Tomorrow We Are All Reagan Republicans

Never let it be said that I do not have an open mind. Twenty-seven years ago, Ronald Reagan did something completely awesome and wonderful, establishing a legacy that has been handed down in successive years to all Americans regardless of party, color, or creed.

President Ronald Reagan proclaimed July to be National Ice Cream Month and the third Sunday of July to be National Ice Cream Day in 1984.

Kickass, St. Ronnie. Kickass.

Hum.

Hmmm. The Supreme Court ruled that a California law banning the sale of violent video games to minors violates the First Amendment. Read this particular line of reasoning and see if you can guess why I find it fascinating.

The justices said governments did not have the authority to "restrict the ideas to which children may be exposed."

O RLY? Does anyone else hear this and immediately start the stopwatch for suits to be filed against Tennessee's "Don't Say Gay" law, or, closer to home, Arizona Superintendent of Public Instruction John Huppenthal's ruling that the TUSD Mexican-American studies program illegally promotes ethnic solidarity and thus must be stopped immediately? How about local school districts that refuse to teach comprehensive sex ed?

On the other hand, does this seeming endorsement of exposure to unlimited ideas roll out the red carpet for creationists to mandate Intelligent Design for science curricula? Or will the Establishment Clause continue to have primacy over an unfettered universe of ideas? I think this has the potential to become way more interesting than maybe they expected.

On We Go

Since life insists on marching resolutely on, despite the dog-sized hole in my heart, we got up for the start of the World Cup yesterday shortly after sunrise. In the first match I pulled mightily for France, since no self-respecting lesbian shitass can cheer in good conscience for Nigeria in anything, ever again. France dominated possession on the wings but was surprisingly toothless in the box, partly due to Camille "Sex Machine" Abily having a sub-par match, to put it mildly. Les Bleus also showed vulnerability to the counter. Nigeria's inability to put away a couple of wide-open chances preserved France's 1-0 win.

The second match, between Canada and host Germany, was far more entertaining. The Germans ended up on top 2-1, although missed chances on both ends meant the score could have been more on the lines of 5-2. What hurts more today, Christine Sinclair? Skying the ball over the bar on a wide-open net, or having your nose rearranged by a Deutsche elbow? Germany's ball movement and running off the ball are impeccable, and that Damn Barbie is a force.

I'm DVRing the matches this morning, so don't tell me who won England-Mexico; I'm hoping for a big game from Casa Boltgirl favorite Kelly Smith. We will be watching tomorrow's brace live with a giant breakfast and hoping the US performance doesn't make us want to puke up all those lovely eggs and biscuits.

Dog

We forget from time to time, but this story only ever ends one way. I don't know if I will want to pick it up again later.

Soccer Prep Guide

Welcome, soccer fans and "abby wambach girlfriend" and "abby wambach boyfriend" googlers. The World Cup starts on Saturday, and you still have a few things you need to do in preparation.

1. The absolute number one requirement is to zip over to The Equalizer and buy the WWC preview they put together with All White Kit. At 82 lovely searchable PDF pages, it's a bargain at 5.95. Both sites are daily must-reads even when the Cup isn't just around the corner, particularly if a big portion of your regular entertainment intake comes from following the trainwreck that is magicJack.

2. Next, march down to your local purveyor of fermented beverages and plead for some Four Peaks Hop Knot IPA. This might be easier if you live in Arizona. Yes, Arizona. Hop Knot is one of the things that makes life in the state of John "Illegals are Pyros" McCain not only tolerable, but downright magical at times. Lay in a stock; it only comes in 12-packs of cans.

3. Got a spare couple of minutes? Go read about brilliant England manager Hope Powell.

4. Lay in the bacon, eggs, and potatoes. Live games in Germany mean breakfast start times here in the Pacific Time Zone. Suggested opening game breakfast bakey thing:

Rinse three or four leeks and thinly slice the white and pale green parts. Caramelize these in a pan with a healthy pinch of salt, deglazing the pan from time to time with broth. While the leeks are cooking, simmer a cup of broth with a bit of garlic and rosemary. Thinly slice some potatoes into rounds. Layer the potatoes in a baking pan with the leeks and some sliced cheese (gruyere is lovely), topping each layer with a sprinkle of salt and a few grinds of pepper. Add sliced ham to each layer if you're a meat person. Strain the broth and pour enough over to make it a bit soupy on the bottom. Beat a couple of eggs with a touch of milk, salt, and pepper, and pour over. Top with one more layer of potatoes and cheese. Cover and bake at 375 for 45 minutes or so, then uncover and bake long enough to brown up the cheese. Remove from oven and let rest a bit, then shovel it out onto plates and NOM.

5. Ali Krieger. 'Nuff said.

Boltgirl is a Curmudgeon Yet Again

You may have noticed that about half of Arizona is on fire at the moment. If you live in Arizona, you have probably also noticed that it’s really fucking hot and dry and the only clouds on the horizon are made of smoke. And if you live in Tucson, you have certainly noticed the goddamn fireworks stands popping up on vacant corners and in parking lots, and probably seen the billboards and basic cable ads from some major firework outlet store just across the New Mexico border, presumably in a spot that hasn’t gone up in flames yet.

What the hell, people?

The Pima County Board of Supervisors is sorta kinda thinking about enacting a ban on private citizen knuckleheads setting off fireworks in their back yards, and possibly a ban on the resorts holding their own shows. The city of Tucson is planning on going ahead with their annual show over A Mountain, despite a track record of setting large portions of the mountain on fire every year. This is the first year you can legally buy fireworks in Arizona—thanks, legislature; we need that like a goddamn hole in the headso I am expecting even more idiocy by my neighbors than usual.

I have no intention of burning down my own house, my own yard, or anyone else's. I just want a little taste of the America where I grew up. Believe it or not, even back then we knew how to work a garden hose.

U-S-A! U-S-A! I hope that garden hose is a full-bore fire hose hooked up to a hydrant, buddy. I will be spending the weekend clearing the easement on the side of the house down to dirt, just in case your good intentions don't fly as far as your fucking bottle rockets.

Song

Trying to keep our suddenly food-averse, lung-infected geriatric beagle mix alive and kicking until the girlfriend gets home next Tuesday may wind up being the most stressful extended event I have had in my adult life. Well, maybe coming out to difficult family members was worse, but it's close.

That stress chose a singular soundtrack for itself that manifested first in my brain and then out loud when I came home after work today. I do not know where it came from.

I opened the door and met the unmistakable smell of an accident.

Just hear those sleigh bells jingling ring ting tingling too

The non-beagle old dog had apparently had some trouble standing up sometime during the afternoon and then laid back down in the resulting pile.

Come on it's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you

I snapped on her collar and pulled her outside, soapy rags in hand, to hose her down and scrub her off. I left the rags in the outdoor poo bag to throw away later.

Outside the snow is falling and friends are calling yoo-hoo

Back inside, the beagle mix turned his nose up at liver treats and turkey, his eyes dull.

[out loud now] Come on, it's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you

I heated some profoundly vile cat food in the microwave. The beagle eagerly downed three whole mouthfuls and then went to stare out the front door at the girlfriend's car, empty and marooned in the driveway until she comes back.

Giddyup giddyup giddyup let's go, let's look at the snow.

After some coaxing, he halfheartedly lapped up some more, then mouthed some biscuits, and chewed on some roast beef before spitting out half of it.

We're riding in a wonderland of snow.

Then it was out the door to meet friends who are going out of town and need me to water their plants, and then back to Costco for more roast beef (please eat it) and tasty treats (please eat them).

When I came home the beagle was perkier than he has been in days. Apparently the combination of weird proteins he managed to get down did something beneficial. He did seem pleased about the new treats and beef. I hope it's the start of an upward trend and not just a blip.

Let's take the road before us and sing a chorus or two

My mom used to play Sleigh Ride a lot on the piano when I was a kid. She was never too sure about the lyrics, so she made up whatever came into her mind at the moment, and it was usually comedy gold. Maybe that's where my brain fled to when I didn't see any solutions in front of me and caved in to frustration and desperation.

Come on, it's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you.

Come on.

Special Occasion du Jour, Tout Les Jours

I bought this bottle fully intending to save it for a special occasion. After all, the first time I sampled this particular brand of magic was at my step-daughter's college graduation dinner a couple weeks back--if you're ever in Ithaca, do drop into Stella's and get a table in the delightfully Mos Eisley-esque basement cave bar, and then try the cilantro chorizo seafood dish--and it was such a perfect capper to the dinner and the weekend that I decided it would become my go-to quaff for toasting family and dear friends in memorable moments.

We got back to Tucson and I bought a bottle and stuck in on the shelf and then started wondering what exactly I was saving it for. The last time I put a bottle away for a special occasion--blackberry wine from the Oliver Winery in Bloomington, Indiana, possibly tromped into existence by Dionysus hisself and maybe Jesus too--the special occasion failed to materialize before the wine sadly shuffled off into vinegarhood. The time before that, the girl I was hoping to share the bottle with moved away before I ever got around to grabbing the corkscrew, much less a second kiss.

So what future am I betting on against the present by stashing the bottle on the high shelf?

I went for a walk this evening as the sun set and watched the bats wheel over the streets. As night settled in, the dogs were still breathing and nothing was on fire, and the breeze was downright pleasant.

Special occasion enough.

Slainte.

Rage, and an Antidote

This week in Things that Make Me Angry:

1. Elvis

2. kale

3. Catholic Charities screaming discrimination in their adoption arm in Illinois. Seriously, people, this is not a difficult concept. Do you want to take public money to perform a public service? Do you want to refuse to provide that service to a specific segment of the public? You can’t do both. Hello.

4. it’s used as a possessive. College rugby sevens championship, I’m looking at you.

5. websites with auto-play video

6. websites with auto-play video and no mute button

7. my right knee

And just to keep it fair and balanced, here’s something that makes me happy:

Funfetti cupcake with dinosaur sprinkles, which totally outweighs 1-7 above. How many of these do I have to eat to get Sarah Palin out of my head? I'm willing to go pretty high here.

Back, Sorta

Oi. Ithaca is indeed incredible, and felt very much like my midwestern home with the thick beech-maple forests, omnipresent creeks and rivers, and familiar wildflowers nodding in the breeze like old friends. I put a hefty number of standard-issue postcardy pictures on the Facebook--if you're truly dying to see them, leave me a note in the comments--as well as a bunch of Android Polaroid emulator shots of Cornell campus architectural details on my tumblr.

Rudy Giuliani gave an eminently forgettable speech at graduation. I declined to take photos. Short version: the terrible tragedy of a Cornell senior dying in a fire three weeks before graduation = 9/11!

Jesus.

We came home to 105-degree heat and a dog with a lung infection. In short order thereafter we were served a heaping dish of Idiocy Two Ways, courtesy of Sarah "Ring Them Bells" Palin and Anthony "I Am Behaving Like A" Weiner. Neither requires more comment here.

I am easing into summer, which means lots of stone fruit with yogurt, chilled light wines (moscato! oh my!), and waiting for fall. The World Cup is coming in a couple of weeks, at which point I will be blogging around the clock. Meanwhile, well, sit, watch, reassess, think. I am getting old.