School is in, summer is out

Fall is here,hear the yell
back to school,ring the bell
brand new shoes,walking blues
climb the fence,books and pens
I can tell that we're going to be friends

Walk with me,Suzy Lee
through the park and by the tree
we will rest upon the ground
and look at all the bugs we found
then safely walk to school
without a sound

Well here we are,no one else
we walked to school all by ourselves
there's dirt on our uniforms
from chasing all the ants and worms
we clean up and now its time to learn

Numbers,letters,learn to spell
nouns,and books,and show and tell
at playtime we will throw the ball
back to class,through the hall
teacher marks our height
against the wall

And we don't notice any time pass
we don't notice anything
we sit side by side in every class
teacher thinks that I sound funny
but she likes the way you sing

Tonight I'll dream while I'm in bed
when silly thoughts go through my head
about the bugs and alphbet
and when I wake tommorow I'll bet
that you and I will walk together again
cause I can tell that we're going to be friends


Credit where credit is due, of course, (we will not tolerate plagiarism) this song is by the White Stripes. Classes started today, amazingly enough, my favorite class so far is Anatomy and Physiology. Not so excited about the English class. This is precisely opposite of what I had anticipated. Hmmm

A call for prayer

Hurricane Katrina is hurtling toward land. This is a terrifyingly large, strong, and destructive storm and will quite possibly lay waste to parts of the Gulf Coast. Many have evacuated, but still, many are for various reasons unable to leave. We should all be in prayer for the safety of those in the path of this storm and for strength and consolation for those who must deal with the aftermath.

In accordance with prophecy...

My brother John has started a blog. Yes. Another brother. Making a grand total of 4 blogging Jurries, meaning exactly half of my parents' children spew forth their nonsense onto the internet. I'm sure they're very proud. John's blog promises to be informative (about stuff you never knew you wanted to know) and humorous (humor being a grand tradition in the Jurries blogging world). Check it out and leave him a comment. Let's make him feel at home in the brogosphere, y'all!

FYI

Just so y'all know, chocolate mousse doesn't taste the same at all when you've mistaken sea salt for sugar.
That is all.

Another installment in the great American novel...

The girls had settled in with their weekly order of buckeye bar and tea when the shaggy British accountant toddled over to their booth. “Hi girls! Sorry to interrupt! Was just going to come over when Tomas popped by. You’ll never guess what Luke and I have got going this weekend!”

Molly and Hazel eyed one another, not quite sure what to expect. With James, one never knew.

“We’re going Speed Dating!”

Stunned, the girls stared at James, then at each other, then at James again. Hazel found her voice first and managed to croak, “WHAT?”

“Yeah! Speed Dating!” James bopped his head enthusiastically and sat down next to Hazel. “Crazy, isn’t it?”

Crazy, indeed it was, but it was only the latest in James and Luke’s string of increasingly desperate attempts at finding girlfriends. Though not members of any church or professors of any particular religion, they were nonetheless semi-regular attendees at the singles group of a local mega-church, where they had been told the females outnumbered the males 3-1.

“How exactly does one ’speed date’?” queried Hazel.

“Well! You all sign up and everyone gets a card with some questions printed on it. You go about the room and ask these questions and jot down the answers. Then, when you go home, you read over the card and if there’s someone you’d like to contact, you ring the speed dating coordinator. He contacts the girl, and if she’s interested she tells him to give you her number. Then you can ring her and ask her out. Much less chance of rejection this way.”

“How so? Can’t she still say no?”

“Well, yeah, but it’s much less painful hearing it from the coordinator than from the girl.”

The girls deliberately avoided eye contact with one another. One glance, and the buckeye bar in Molly’s mouth would spew all over.

“Anyway,” continued James, optimistically, “Luke and I are going to put on suits and ties, you know, really put on the dog, and totally slay those girls. We figure that most of the guys there will be losers who don’t know how to dress, and our suits will give us an advantage. First impressions you know. Hazel, which tie do you think looks better? The blue pinstripe, or the red?”

Comida Criolla

Because I, frankly, don't feel like writing about the Perons quite yet, I am going to write instead about Argentinian food. These people have been doing the whole "global fusion cooking" thing for years and years now. Good stuff, my friends. Mediterranean (largely Spanish and Italian) meets native Indian. Yum. Not to mention the influence had by large groups of immigrants from Wales, Lebanon, Germany, and Asia.

There are several national gastrointestinal delights, the least of which is certainly not their beef. The Argentinian people are obsessively proud of their beef. Some even claim to be able to identify the breed of cow by the taste of the steak. Steak is the most common cut, and a grateful world thanks Argentina for chimmichurri sauce, which is delightful. Apparently, American palattes take time to get used to Argentinian beef. We're used to aged beef (which the Argentines think tastes "cadavorous") and eating beef fresh is quite the experience.

Never ones to waste, these resourceful folk pretty much eat all of the cow. And I mean ALL of it. Eew. Lamb and goat are also popular in this protein crazy nation. Another popular meat item is the empanada, which is a fried pastry pocket stuffed full of meat, cheese, and whatever else happens to be lying about the place.

Dulce de Leche is quite definitely the greatest contribution the Argentine people have made to the world of sweets. This sauce, made by boiling sweetened milk and sugar for hours and hours and hours, is a thick caramel suitable for filling pastries and spreading on anything (Dulce de Leche is to Argentina as peanut butter is to America, and Nutella is to Europe). Some sickos use it to make flan, which is a particularily nasty and slimy concoction. Decent people pour it on their ice cream. Which is more likely in Argentina to be ice cream's creamier cousin gelato because...

Italian cooking is extremely popular, especially in Buenos Aires. Pizzarias positively litter the city, and some seem to believe Italian food is more popular in Argentina than in Italy. This seems a silly idea, but some people will have their crazy notions...

Outside of the city the food is less sophisticated, it seems. The yocals take advantage of the many fresh products, making stews and meats pies and such. If you enjoy stuff made with beans, maize, squash, pumpkin, and chiles, then you'll want to leave Buenos Aires. You won't find it there.

In all my vast research into the topic of Argentinian cuisine, one thing continually cropped up. In addition to beef and dulce de leche, one thing unites this diverse country. That is yerba mate (mate to locals). Yerba mate is a brewed herb drink (questionable? oh yeah!) and apparently tastes something like green tea, though other sites I checked said it's closer to coffee. Yerba is a plant in the holly family and is, seemingly, quite caffinated. Still seems a bit sketchy to me...

Well, I've only scratched the surface of Argentinian food, but I figure as long as you remember that the beef is way good, the pizza plentiful, the dulce de leche yummy, and the mate rather questionable, you'll be okay.

That is all.

Housecleaning

It being the weekend and all, there will be no educational posts. Saturdays are meant for relaxing and housecleaning, and even blogs need occasional tidying.

First off, I will be eating potato salad for the rest of my life. I made WAY too much for the party the other night. Next year I'll just skip it. And get more torches. And more Christmas lights. And a croquet set. Yeah.

Secondly, there have been unstable brogospheric conditions this week. Due to reasons beyond the control of both, "In My Opinion" and "The Ministry of Vocabulary" have been shut down. Also, "Don't Write Yourself Off Yet" closed it's doors for business. These are all sad developments. However, do not be downcast. Maggie is reportedly working on a new blog (yay!) and there are rumors afoot that the MOV may resume with it's humanitarian mission to improve the world through better English. I am also pleased to announce new blogs on my links list - Petey's Pro-Action Pics and Life on Union Avenue. I also have been given to understand that yet another new blog is in pre-production. News updates on this as they become available.

Thirdly, in what I consider to be a fine move, ABC reality show "Dancing with the Stars" will be holding a Dance-Off on Sept 20 (results on sept 22). Many (including myself) felt that Kelly and Alex's win over John and Charlotte was somewhat unfair. I resigned myself to their loss though. After all, I have a tendency to root for the losers. (I still wish Bo Bice had won American Idol) For deadpan grannies out there, no, I do not watch alot of reality TV. Just these two. So don't even start.

Fourthly and lastly, Celebration on the Grand is coming up! That means fireworks on Friday, Sept 9! I'll be camped out on Pearl Street bridge, which is the best spot for fireworks viewing. I'll be saving seats for all interested parties. Who knows, maybe I'll bring potato salad...

Tango Argentino

To keep y'all entertained while top notch research into the Peronist era of Argentina is being conducted, I have provided a link on the history of .....The Tango. We see again how the many immigrants to Buenos Aires influenced the culture of the entire country. Good stuff, this.

Early Argentine history in ten minutes or less

Amerigo Vespucci, being an enterprising gentleman, was in 1502 the first European to visit the region of South America. Prior to the arrival of the European, the country was sparsely inhabited by various native Indian tribes (with lovely names such as the Diaquita) and groups of rabidly carnivorous nomads. The Spaniards being at the time mad for exploration and colonization, sent Juan Diaz de Solis round and about 1516. He, with the help of his minions, established the colony of Buenos Aires. It remained a backwater for a century or two. Much of the region remained poor, with the exception of estancieros (ranchers) and gauchos (cowboys), who capitalized on the, um, cash cow that was beef.

So in 1776, while we here in America were otherwise occupied, the Spanish integrated Argentina into the Viceroyalty of the Rio de la Plata. Buenos Aires became the capitol of said viceroyalty, and flourished. The rabble, as is their wont, became discontent, and this soon spread to all levels of Argentine society. They had, they felt, outgrown their need for Spain. Things festered and simmered until the need for change became overwhelming, and in 1810 they decided to hold a revolution. General Jose San de Martin led what the Argentines still revere as a brilliant campaign, and independance was secured in 1816.

The problem was, you see, that no one had much considered what to do once Spain buggered out. The reality was that there were many factions, and that each faction would have been highly gratified to rule the country with an iron fist. It eventually boiled down to two main rivaling parties. The estancieros, gauchos, and rural working classes were in favor of the Federalists, who rather liked the idea of provincial autonomy. They were opposed by the Unitarists, a party comprised of mostly urban peoples who favored European immigrants and European ideas, and they were inclined to belive that authority should be centralized in Buenos Aires. After a diastrous try at the Federalists' plan, the Unitarists took over, and eventually (1853) adapted a constitution.

Under this government, the usual mixed bag of results took place. There was quite a bit of growth and prosperity, as the province of Pampas in particular was developed and cereal crops were propogated. Sheep were introduced to the country, and trade with and investments from Europe enriched the economy. Buenos Aires itself became a microsm of Europe as immigration increased, and the exploration and settling of Patagonia by General Roca fascinated the world. By the end of the century, Argentina was one of the world ten wealthiest nations. However, power had been placed in the hands of too few, and the economy was largely at the mercy of world economic downturns and whims and such. This did not bode well...

I'm just here for the steak...

Argentina is quite a fascinating country. More to come.

Advice for life

Be courteous, kind and forgiving,
Be gentle and peaceful each day,
Be warm and human and grateful,
And have a good thing to say.

Be thoughtful and trustful and childlike,
Be witty and happy and wise,
Be honest and love all your neighbours,
Be obsequious, purple, and clairvoyant.

Be pompus, obese, and eat cactus,
Be dull, and boring, and omnipresent,
Criticize things you don't know about,
Be oblong and have your knees removed.

Be tasteless, rude, and offensive,
Live in a swamp and be three dimentional,
Put a live chicken in your underwear,
Get all excited and go to a yawning festival.

Be courteous, kind and forgiving,
Be gentle and peaceful each day,
Be warm and human and grateful,
And have a good thing to say.

Be thoughtful and trustful and childlike,
Be witty and happy and wise,
Be honest and love all your neighbours,
Be obsequious, purple, and clairvoyant.

Be pompus, obese, and eat cactus,
Be dull, and boring, and omnipresent,
Criticize things you don't know about,
Be oblong and have your knees removed.

Be tasteless, rude, and offensive,
Live in a swamp and be three dimentional,
Put a live chicken in your underwear,
Go into a closet and suck eggs.

Unseen, in the background, Fate was quietly slipping the lead into the boxing glove.

Nothing can brighten your day more than a good old P.G. Wodehouse quote. I'd go into all the details of Plum's volumnious career, but no doubt he shall be featured one of these days as a linquist of the week on the MOV. Details thus spared, I'll provide you with a few favorites.

""What ho!'' I said.
"What ho!'' said Monty.
"What ho! What ho!''
"What ho! What ho! What ho!''
After that it seemed rather difficult to go on with the conversation."


"Chumps always make the best husbands. When you marry, Sally, grab a chump. Tap his head first, and if it rings solid, don't hesitate. All the unhappy marriages come from husbands having brains. What good are brains to a man? They only unsettle him."


"The only thing that prevented a father's love from faltering was the fact that there was in his possession a photograph of himself at the same early age, in which he, too, looked like a homicidal fried egg."


"I can detach myself from the world. If there is a better world to detach oneself from than the one functioning at the moment I have yet to hear of it."


"He settled down to dictate a letter to the Consolidated Nailfile and Eyebrow Tweezer Corporation of Scranton, Pa., which would make them realize that life is stern and earnest and Nailfile and Eyebrow Tweezer Corporations are not put in this world for pleasure alone."


"Alf Todd,'' said Ukridge, soaring to an impressive burst of imagery, ``has about as much chance as a one-armed blind man in a dark room trying to shove a pound of melted butter into a wild cat's left ear with a red-hot needle.''


"Into the face of the young man who sat on the terrace of the Hotel Magnifique at Cannes there had crept a look of furtive shame, the shifty hangdog look which announces that an Englishman is about to speak French."

In Memoriam

They say time heals all wounds. Yet, even after all these years, we still miss him. That way he sat there, exchanging c02 for o... it seems like it was yesterday. Out of respect, we republish his obituary.

Chia Pet, Nigel - age unknown
passed away recently of a rare combination
of underwatering, overwatering, and owner separation anxiety.
Nigel passed on to his eternal reward alone and thirsty,
devoid of the love and support of family or friends.
Mr. Pet was a former Green Beret and an avid tap-dancer.
He loved a good drink every now and then
which was, unfortunately, his ruination.
Survivors:
owner, Marion Lanning,
last seen in the ironically green mountains of Vermont;
caretaker, Joy "Dr. Death" Jurries;
life partner, "Mr. Turkey" Baster;
a host of nieces and nephews.
Composting to be performed pending notification of next of kin.
Nigel (what there is of him) reposes on the kitchen counter;
there will be no visitation.
No flowers, please.
Memorials may be made to Miracle-Gro or Chia Pets for Life.
Arrangements by Ronco Fine Family Undertakers
(Fine Families Undertaken Daily)
"To know Nigel was to love him"

The Church Caste System - an exerpt from the great American novel

The room was rapidly filling with young men and women between the ages of 18 and 30- but not 17 and definitely not 31. Another commonly accepted rule among churches: never never never allow people of varying generations, marital status, or other societal distinctives occupy the same church group. The singles, marrieds, highschoolers, grade-schoolers, and seniors can’t possibly be expected to learn anything from each other, much less find anything to talk about.

At birth, a young parishioner is first introduced to the Nursery Set… Infants and THEN toddlers. Never both. Eventually if one applies oneself diligently, one attains acceptance into the Kindergarten Sunday School, where for a year or two one may taste the delights of flannel-grams and saltines after the morning worship service. Having successfully embarrassed oneself at the Church Christmas program, one graduates to the Grade-School set, and partakes in gender specific clubs. The little girls learn to crochet and craft their way to godliness and purity, while the young gentlemen camp, fish, and set off bottle rockets… to what purpose, heaven only knows.

Eventually one finds oneself in the hallowed grounds of catechetical instruction. Everyone meets once a week to study the creeds and confessions of the church, under the tutelage of some unlucky elder, and it is at about this time that one becomes a full fledged member of the highschoolers group. Here, the sexes are allowed to meet at well chaperoned service projects, road rallies, sock hops, ski-trips, and the mother of them all, THE YEARLY CONVENTION.

After four years of learning the catechism, discussing sexual purity, “Just saying NO” to drugs, alcohol and all the other artifices and tools of the Devil, one is encouraged to publicly profess their faith in a small ceremony that consists of standing before the congregation Sunday Morning and answering in the positive to the minister’s questions. The member vows that the Bible and Confessions are true, and promises to be a loyal member of Christ’s church on earth, and agrees to submit to the discipline of elders and pastor.

At this point, one is consigned to the ignomy of The Singles Group. These members are generally left to shift for themselves, languishing unremembered in drafty basements and outbuildings. Even the chaperones desert at this point. It is the goal of nearly every young single person to attain the status of Young Marrieds, where the milk and honey are said to flow freely. However, the journey is not yet finished; for when parenthood is attained there are several groups to progress through. The New Parents, Your Grade Schooler and You, Parents with Teens, and Empty Nesters. Once the grandchildren start rolling in, one is ready for the Seniors.

The Seniors take “Mystery Trips” to Branson, Missouri to see The Lawrence Welk Revue, venture out on color tours in the fall, and attend church dramas at any time. They also arrange the occasional sortie to local glee club singers, and tour area nursing homes. The only way out of this group is, as some of the more humorous members say, ‘in a pine box.’ It’s the pinnacle of the Church Caste System.