johnvano.com

Vermont's Finest

I love Ben and Jerry's ice cream. To me, it's one of the very best food items on earth. I even took my family on a sojourn to the Ben and Jerry's factory in Vermont back in 2005--I have a review of that trip in my drafts, which I need to post soon.

I've never really met a Ben and Jerry's flavor I didn't like... until now. This week I picked up a pint (in my vernacular this always refers to ice cream) each for Paula and I to try. I let her give Vanilla HEATH Bar Crunch a whirl, while I sunk my spoon into Vermonty Python.

Here's a play-by-play of Paula, enjoying Vanilla HEATH Bar Crunch (vanilla ice cream with chunks of HEATH Bar crunch) for the very first time:

Her shoulders shiver with, "Mmmmm." Then she giggles and says, "Ben and Jerry's rocks my world!" There are more noises that I'm really not comfortable putting into print here before she says, "They just get it right. Oh, and here's a big chunk of Heath bar! Rock on!" Then I hear: "CrunchCrunchCrunch." I ask her for a review and she says, "The mixture of the... whether it's the Heath bar crunch or anything else... the distribution is perfect. The texture, the taste... mmmmm. This is so good."

I took her spoon and gave it a try, but I found that it tasted like paint. She wanted to know how I knew what paint tasted like, but I just knew.

Then I tried Vermonty Python (coffee liqueur ice cream with a chocolate cookie crumb swirl and fudge cows). These were my thoughts:

A rich, decadent coffee taste. I feel a buzz coming on. Is this stuff legal? I think I'm becoming intoxicated.

Paula refused to try it. Different strokes for different folks.

I'm Sorry, I Thought You Were Dead

I thought that I kept pretty good tabs on famous people. At least well enough to know whether they were dead or alive. That is, until recently. For instance, late last year I was convinced that one of the Redgrave sisters (Vanessa and Lynn) was dead. Or maybe both of them. But then I saw one of them show up at the Oscars, and I soon learned that they're both with us still. Thankfully.

Now let me stop here for a moment, because I am not simply assuming that people are dead, no, it's worse than that. I am remembering that it was announced that they were dead--when they're not. Peter O'Toole is the best example of this. I was sure we all mourned his passing about 18 months ago, and then around the end of 2006, I hear him mentioned in Oscar buzz.

The Unwelcome Guest

Why don't we ever see cockroaches when we're outside? That's their natural habitat, isn't it? They aren't born with a silver spoon in their mouth, even if there is a certain sense of entitlement to their actions.

The human dwelling is not anything they've been born into or invited to, and yet, why is it that they pop up in my kitchen from time to time? Most people understand when it's time to leave. If I stand, the guest usually takes it as a hint that they should leave. If I yawn, or ask, "What time is it?" that is another clue.

Perhaps most obvious of all is when I smash you with a shoe. Is that not your clue to leave, cockroach? I know it would send a message to me...

Red Sox 11, Braves 0

I took my daughter Madison to see the Red Sox play the Braves at Turner Field last week. She was pinch hitting for Marshall who got sick with the croup who was pinch hitting for Paula who couldn't go because we never found a babysitter.

We arrived at the park 40 minutes before game time, but as I made my way to my usual parking spot, I was astounded to find that all the official Braves parking lots were full. So I drove down the street, circled around, and then was forced to go back to the stadium because of all the rerouted traffic. It was a crawl, and every time I found a lot with some room, they were charging $20, $25, even $30 to park. Finally, I found a church that was taking cars for $10. These folks were very friendly, and after the game, they left headlights on and bathed you and flashlight beams to ensure that you got to your car safely. They stayed until every car was accounted for. Such service!

Mr. Turtle

I've always been ribbed about being a slow walker. I'm casual, laid-back, carefree, but I never thought I was that slow. But on Monday, I came face to back with the reality of my loafing gait.

I was walking at a comfortable pace, just short of briskly, with my laptop and a take-out cup of sweet tea. At one point I glanced behind me to see a dude in a chef's uniform walking at the same free and relaxed pace, only he was gaining on me. In no time at all, he had covered the 35 feet between us and had passed me. As I walked the remaining 50 feet before I reached my office driveway, I watched the chef. As he walked, he kind of loped from side to side, his feet pointing outward with each step. His white chef's cloak caught wind, but he walked with ease and very little effort. I wonder what it was about his pedometery that propelled him farther than me.

Over those last 50 feet, he must have gained 40 feet on me, causing me to wonder just how far he could travel if we began from the same starting point. Here's some algebra for you: If the chef covers 90 paces for every 40 paces John covers, and if the chef walks 14,000 paces a day while John travels 12,500, at what time will each man arrive in Bemidji, Minnesota, assuming it is 1.85 million paces away and both men begin walking at 8:00 each morning?

Like Father, Like Son?

The Winona Ryder Canon

Just the other day I thought wistfully of the old Winona--of Beetlejuice and Heathers and Reality Bites. She made a lot of movies early in her career that resonated with me--and the kid had some talent. But now, I think of her as a troubled soul, a wooden actress, and a shoplifter. Here are my top ten Winona Ryder movies.

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10. The House of the Spirits--I barely remember this one, but it just had to be better than Autumn in New York.

9. Mermaids--I remember it as a cute movie about three girls--mother Cher, older sister Winona, and little sister Christina Ricci trying to make it in a new town. Bob Hoskins also stars.

8. Mr. Deeds--Not her best work, she was a piece of wood. It wasn't Adam Sandler's best work either, but it had it's moments--the best of them involving John Turturro.

7. Edward Scissorhands--I wasn't a big fan of this at first, but it grows on you. Certainly not easily forgotten and visually arresting.

6. Beetlejuice--Winona's goth stage. Watch Alec Baldwin and Geena Davis in this one, they put in a believable effort as a newly deceased couple freaking out about their situation. Michael Keaton perhaps foreshadows Scissorhands in this piece (in look, not in character).

5. Little Women--The classic of literature came to life and helped me to get the story I had never read. Great performances, but Alcott's work failed to stir me as much as the Bronte, Austen, or Wharton films have.

Lucky Number 7

Itching to add to my Georgia state park total, we loaded up the van and headed off to Panola Mountain State Park on Sunday for an excursion. Panola Mountain marks my 7th state park, with only 39 to go until I complete the cycle.

The kids were a little testy about the trip at first, but once we arrived and toured the interpretive center (with its displays of stuffed beaver, bobcat, chipmunk, wild birds of prey, moths, etc... all indigenous to the park) and started on our hike--there was no stopping them. Even little Cooper kept up--hiking on his own most of the way.

Panola Mountain is a lot like Stone Mountain in its granite outcroppings and bald, only the Panola people are quite proud of the fact that their mountain is "untouched." I think they believe that Stone Mountain is a big blemish, what with the Confederate carving, the fake 1870's town, and the duck boats. Oh well, with both Panola and Stone you get the best of both worlds.

The Rome Red Sox

I'm famous for my weird dreams... Here's my latest oddity:

It's present day and I'm the same age in dreamland as I am in real life, but for some reason I'm at some college. I have three tickets to that evening's Red Sox game and I'm itching to get on the road, but the other guys are stalling. I realize at this point that we're in a cafeteria where my friend Carp and my old college roommate, Buddy, are fixing themselves some cold cereal. They're driving me crazy.

Finally, I tell them just to meet "us" there, I'll find my way. It is at this point that I hop into my little sports car (more dreaming) with Hurley from Lost. I decide to take the back roads, relying on my internal sense of direction, but we end up on top of a mountain, passing through into what appears to be the back country of Italy. I slam on my breaks just before we drop over a single-lane road that's at about a 70 degree angle.

I'm surrounded by beautiful vistas of vineyards and olive groves. There are signoras walking about with baskets on their heads, and all kinds of Italian flavor. It's breathtaking, but I'm beside myself--wanting desperately to get to the game. Should I resign myself to missing it, and enjoy this once in a lifetime trip to Italy? I don't quite understand how I got here... and why is Hurley with me?

How We Spent Memorial Day Weekend

My parents came up from Florida for a visit. We initiated them to IKEA on Saturday. On Sunday after church we had lunch at the Texas Roadhouse. My dad took a nap while I cleaned the house and watched the kids. Paula and my mom went to a consigment shop.

Then we all went to the park for some pitching, hitting, and fielding. I also raced all-takers around the bases. We capped off the evening with some Brusters' ice cream and movies--Arthur and the Invisibles (entertaining) for Madison and Marshall, Relative Strangers (dumb) for the adults.

On Monday we drove a little bit of the way back with my folks--stopping for lunch at a Frontera (really good) and visiting Indian Springs State Park. It is my goal to visit all of Georgia's state parks, and I've only just begun. Indian Springs was area once heralded by Native Americans for it's "healing waters." The water still flows and you can have a drink of it straight from the earth--if you feel like budging in front of the long line of locals with their jugs and jugs. That was kind of a bummer. There are several old buildings set up by "the white man" after he bought the land from the Indians for a song. The park had a revelry of grillers and frisbee-throwers and up on top of the hill was a campground and miniature golf course.

But the big draw was the rock-hopping stream. My father and I took the four oldest kids as they explored and tested themselves against nature. I kept Madison and Marshall close while I held Halle and Emma's hands, but the pull of the challenge and their skill at navigating, left me comfortable with them running ahead.