I saved the world

I saved the world this morning.

Well, if not the world, then a Stamford train, the station and all the employees.

OK. So it's more likely that I saved a kid either lots of money replacing textbooks or the hassle of having to track down lost and found at the train station.

I boarded the train in Danbury. I got on and sat down. Across the aisle from me a younger guy got on, took off his backpack and put it on the seat along with another bag he was carrying. He was looking around, perhaps he was surprised by how empty the train was, I don't know. Everyone settled in and the hour ride to Stamford began.

People started to stand up when they announced we were approaching Stamford station. I never stand up until the train is at the station; they make those announcements too early. The kid across the row stood up, put on his backpack and started looking around again. I figured he was running late or something and was a bit agitated by it. Then, the doors opened and he walked off, leaving behind his second bag. It was a pretty bright blue University of Connecticut book bag, so it was hard to miss. I tried to get his attention as he walked through the train, but he kept walking. I picked up the bag and walked after him. I caught him on the stairs, about 30 seconds later, and tapped him on the shoulder.

"You left this on the seat." I said

He just looked at me, didn't say anything, and took the bag. Then he mumbled something and started walking away. He didn't seem happy to be reunited with his bag.

It was then that images flashed through my mind. All of the "See something, say something" posters that are plastered all over trains and train stations. It hadn't occured to me that I could be picking anything other than a bag full of books up; I was just trying to help someone out.

So there you have it. That's how I saved a kid either lots of money replacing textbooks or the hassle of having to track down lost and found at the train station.

Or perhaps I saved a train, the station and all the employees.

Nope, right there, that can be nothing else but the story of how I saved the world.

Perhaps I need to learn from these ads...

We Bought A House - Part 2

I'm told that people enjoyed We Bought A House - Part 1, so I'm encouraged to write more. Heck, a lot has been going on at the house, so I should be full of stories. Which one today, though. Ah, yes...

When we bought the house it turned out that we also bought some creatures. Some of them have been simple, yet amusing to deal with. The yellowjacket comes to mind. The mailbox is in bad shape, and has a gap big enough for things to climb in. The first time I checked the mail I noticed the yellowjacket sitting at the back of the box. By the time our mail actually started being delivered (it took USPS a while, probably because their trucks in Bethel are lame compared to other places), the yellowjacket had started making a nest. Covered neck to toe, wearing thick gloves and armed with an empty jar and a trowel because it is all we had (it was a funny sight), I scooped up the nest and left it jarred up in the sun for a few days. The yellowjacket eventually ate the nest, which was weird.

But that's not the main creature we had to deal with. The creature that came to mind has four legs and a tail. No, it isn't a fox or deer, though we have seen both of those in the yard. It isn't a dog, either, even though we were asked if we were interested in taking on the previous owner's 11-year old, incontinent, cataract-ridden dog, Lucky. We passed on that. Nope. I'm talking about mice. The fact that there were mice was not unexpected. Our property backs onto woods (bush for Australians who just can't do 'woods'), so there are all manner of critters out there.

Our first solid clue that we had mice was probably when we went to get some chocolate for dessert not long after we moved into the house. At the opened end of the chocolate were some small, but definitely noticeable, teeth marks. We looked into how to get rid of the mice. There were several steps. The first actually involved the pantry, and that was to close up any food supplies that the mouse may have. That made sense to me. If nomadic animals in Africa run out of food they move along. At least that is what National Geographical channel has taught me. If I can't find food in the pantry, I move to the fridge. Yep, that logic sounds airtight. So, we went airtight. We bought some mason jars at the local supermarket and took anything that might be remotely interesting for a mouse and sealed it up. Step 1 complete.

The second step was exclusion. This step required some thought. Eventually I came to understand what it meant: mice must be social creatures. So, I asked Liz if she wanted to go out for dinner. The key to the plan was that I didn't invite the mouse. We went on walks, still not inviting the mouse. Basically, we just excluded the mouse from every activity that we did, big or small. It didn't seem to work, because we walked into the garage to go out one day (without the mouse, of course) and Liz saw it running along the garage wall, behind an old cabinet thing. Once we were home I pulled the cabinet away from the corner to see if the mouse was still there. I didn't find a mouse, but I did find a gaping hole. A new meaning for exclusion came to mind; it turns out that exclusion just means keeping mice out in the first place! Liz was already planning a trip to Lowe's on unrelated business, so she said she would pick something up there to fill the hole. The guy at Lowe's recommended steel wool.

Why steel wool? As everyone knows when humans move into a new place they tend to exterminate whatever is already living there, and that can often lead to extinction. Around these parts, back while colonization was still slow, there were special sheep that, rather than regular wool, had steel wool. The only thing these steel wool sheep needed to worry about were humans and lightning. These sheep also didn't graze on grass; they ate mice. So, I put 2 and 2 together and realized that by shoving steel wool in the hole these mice would be reminded of their age old foe and not want to be anywhere near the house. All of that realization took place in the space of a second or so after Liz produced the steel wool from the bag, before she could explain to me that steel wool was good because the mice can't chew their way through it. But if I worked at Lowe's, I'd be giving people my reason for using steel wool for mouse exclusion. I packed the hole tight, and we looked around but didn't see any other big gaping holes that they might be coming through. We decided that we were done with exclusion.

A week or so later I was sitting in the family room, absent-mindedly watching baseball and not at all worrying about mice. Then, from behind the TV, in the shelving along the wall, I heard a noise. Several noises. It went something like "Thump. Thu-thu-thu-thu-thump." Then, rolling onto the floor, came a small mouse. It was momentarily startled by the fact that it had fallen out and rolled onto the floor. Then it saw me. Our eyes locked for what seemed like an eternity, when in reality it was probably only about 5 seconds. It was frozen. I was thinking "Damn you, you little bastard, I don't have anything to catch you in right now..." Almost as if it could read my mind the mouse set off, probably making fun of me as it went. It was time for phase 3. I know I was using "step" earlier, but phase sounds so much cooler. Phase 3 was relocation/extermination.

Phase 3 revolved around taking the mice that had already breached our perimeter and removing them. Now that we had a sighting inside the house we had somewhere to set our trap. We had picked up a no-kill trap, because neither of us really wanted to deal with dead mice. I read the instructions, put some peanut butter in the trap and set it up. The next day the trap hadn't been tripped. The day after that though the door was closed and the trap triggered. I spoke with enthusiasm to Liz about the fact that we had caught a mouse, and that I would go release it back into the food chain next to the woods. I picked up the trap, careful not to open the door and let the mouse just run free. I got all the way to the rocks at the back of the yard and lowered the trap to the ground. I opened the door, but the mouse didn't like the smell of freedom. I tilted the trap slightly, but the mouse still didn't take the hint. I tipped it all the way, but still no mouse. I looked inside, and it was empty... ghost mouse. In one of those panicked "The killer is calling from inside the house" moments, I ran back inside... Fortunately, Liz was OK.

A few days passed and still nothing found its way into the trap, not even false alarms, so we decided to move the trap for the hell of it somewhere else. The next morning the door was shut. Wary of false alarms again I told Liz about it and got ready for the day. I picked up the trap and went outside. I got to the edge of the grass in the yard and opened the door. Nothing. Not again! I tilted the trap, and then it happened. Out slid a dead mouse. I sighed. "No kill trap my ass." was my thought. I dropped the trap next to the garage door and went inside to tell Liz. We decided not to use the killing no-kill trap anymore and get something else. We set it up instead and haven't seen anything since.

So, what can we deduce from that long, pictureless and almost pointless account? There are many options:

1. The mouse that was caught and killed was the only mouse in the house. But that's probably the least likely of all of the options.

2. By following through with the 3 phases of the plan, the mice that we did have moved on when they realized there was nothing there for them. That's more likely than option 1.

3. The mice are waiting. You see, I didn't tell you the strangest part of the story. When I went into the backyard later that same day, the dead mouse was gone. Vanished. Now, I think that somewhere, either in the woods, or perhaps they've already evaded out security and are in the house, a family of mice waits. Lead by their zombie king, the mice will strike when we least suspect it. That, I believe, is the most likely option.

I have to leave it there for now. I have a battle to prep for, and supplies to gather. The zombie mouse battle could be here any day now.

We Bought A House - Part 1

You may have heard the whispers, or read the Facebook updates, or even talked to us about it. It is no secret, Liz and I have bought a house. There has been so much going on, so much to do, so much to fix, so much to enjoy (which we're starting to find out) that there hasn't been much time for telling people too much about it. Even though I haven't seen the movie, I imagine our experience has been similar to the newly released movie We Bought a Zoo, except, instead of a zoo, we bought a house.

I've decided to share some of the things we do with the place with everyone, and make a bit of a series out of it. I'm going to present the things in no particular order right now, but as time goes on it will probably get more sequential. Today's post: it happened today. The next post, perhaps it happened last week. Maybe it hasn't happened yet. Time will tell.

So, I bring to you, Part 1 of We Bought A House.

We've lived in the house now for about 3 weeks, mainly doing stuff on the inside. Each week we seem to add to the list of things to do without taking too much away from it, and looking outside, early this past week, we conceded that it had to be done. Liz was the first to actually verbalise it.

"I think we're going to have to cut the grass..."

Now, thanks to Dad always doing it and having a grass allergy, I had never mowed a lawn. Owing to the fact she has brothers, Liz had never either. But now that it's our lawn, we decided we would have to do it. Massive tufts were growing up in patches, and they needed to be dealt with. We thought about doing it after work a couple of nights, but it always got put off. Today, we woke up, dealt with some plumbers and the time had come.

Time to cut the grass.

While Liz wrapped some things up inside I headed out to the shed to see what tools there were that might help on the quest. The shed right now is a collection of the few items that we already had, and the items that the previous owners didn't need, want or bother to take with them. Opening the doors I was greeted with this view:

"Ah, yes, that should do the trick", I thought, front and center when I opened the door. "That should cut grass well."

I started working my way methodically through the yard, cutting the grass. It was long and hard work, with a lot of bending, standing, walking, repeat. I kept thinking to myself "Why the hell do Americans think it's so great to cut the grass?" Liz came out and offered to take over. Her approach was different, like she knew what to look for, like she was stalking the grass.

Deciding on a change of tactic to get the job done, Liz went to the shed in search of a new tool while I kept cutting. She came out all excited, and started swinging around a pole. It looked like she was practicing a golf swing, and whatever the tool is called, it was pretty effective.

After a while we had had enough cutting and took a break. We watched TV for half an hour (the new Avatar series is awesome) and then thought about going back to work. The thought of doing the whole yard (the property is a little less than half an acre) with those scissor things seemed daunting. Luckily, you may not have noticed in the picture of the shed, the previous owners left a lawn mower! You see, the cutting of the grass was only to bring the massive tufts down to a more manageable length. Feeling drastically relieved we turned our attention to the mower. We checked and topped up the oil, attached the grass catcher, pulled the cord and nothing. Tried again: nothing. It was like the Millennium Falcon trying to go into hyperspace in The Empire Strikes Back. It just wasn't happening. We checked the spark plug; it looked fine. Figuring it just needed some time, I kept pulling the cord.

Eureka! The engine roared to life, and the sound of our mower joined the others in the neighbourhood. I pushed it around a bit and liked the way it handled, before handing it over to Liz.

She really wanted to try it out, I swear! I'm not some horrible husband who forced his wife to mow! After a couple of back and forths I took the reins again.

Oh yeah, grass is getting cut properly now. I finished up the backyard, then moved to the side, then did the front. As I was doing the last few passes I noticed just how heavy the mower felt. "This self propelling drive thingy doesn't do that much." I thought. I let go of the self drive bar, and suddenly I could barely move the mower. "Oh, it actually does a whole lot! I'm just not in peak mowing shape yet." I realized.

Finishing up, I took the mower around to the shed, dumping out the last of our 5 or so catcher loads of grass. Looking around at the yard, that had looked so messy and unkept that morning, I became quite proud. We had just done something that many people have done countless times, but I was proud for having done it. But more than that, I was proud that this was our yard that we were working on, and that was when I understood what it means to be house proud.

And that's the story of the first time we mowed the yard.

So people are probably thinking or even saying "You've done an entire post, and made me read about you mowing the lawn, and haven't even shown me what the house looks like!" Well, the thing is the house is starting to look better and better with each passing day, as spring sets in with its sprouting of leaves. But, OK. Here it is.

This is how the house looks. At night. And out of focus.

Fine! Here it is in the day:

And here is how it looks from the back:

And here is the dust print that a bird left hitting our front window.

Can't give everything away in part 1! Stay tuned for more "exciting" stories, and perhaps even more photos, maybe even inside the house!

(Batman voiceover voice) Same bacon time*, same bacon channel!

* probably different time.

Wedding photos

Hi Everyone!

I've been told that some people are having issues looking at wedding photos from the links that were pasted on Facebook and stuff. So, here is a link that I have been told works:

https://picasaweb.google.com/114937612820486718376/WeddingPhotos?authuser=0&authkey=Gv1sRgCNH64d6QooiFhgE&feat=directlink

I'll be back to post more at some stage!

Irene: The Aftermath

Hurricane Irene, later demoted to the position of Tropical Storm Irene, recently blew into Stamford. We, along with a few other cities along the East Coast, were said to be right in the path of the storm (though the exact path couldn't be predicted and kept changing), so media outlets were predicting the worst. Widespread damage, flooding, power outages. We started to worry - if someone goes outside and blows hard at our power lines we lose power for days.

After a great load of fanfare, Irene arrived in the wee hours of the morning. I was asleep, during most of her visit, but Liz was woken up. This morning we woke up to find the wind still blowing, and the rain still coming down. By 3pm we figured it was time to step out, as survivors, and survey the damage and get our first look at this new, post-Irene world.

Some people would say we got off lucky, but I'll let you all look at the photos below and decide for yourself...

Signs like this, with their 1 inch wide and 1/4 inch thick wood didn't stand a chance.

This sign on the street survived, but there was no sign of the person on the sign, or the dog. The only conclusion can be that they were blown away by the winds.

Ordinarily our back deck would have a table and grill/barbecue on it. Look at the deck above and they are nowhere to be seen... fine, so we moved them, but we moved them because of Irene.

Irene must have dunked this basketball hoop hard.

Bud Light littered the streets, presumably dropped by Irene as she went. I believe this is why her path was so hard to predict - can anyone really tell where a drunk person's foot is going to land next?

This car must have been blown into town all the way from Colorado.

Flood waters cascade down the drain on Turner Road. Water peaked at around 1/8 of an inch.

Winds blew these flip-flops/thongs 2 feet apart.

People on this street are lucky to still have power after branches fell onto the lines.

The Post-Irene world has spawned new profiteers and scavengers - they scour the streets, picking up people's broken trees, presumably to sell for profit. Step 1: Collect Wood. Step 2: ? Step 3: Profit.

The top level of Turner Road has been stripped away, leaving raised manhole covers and an uneven surface.

Reliving that walk, looking at what Irene did... yeah, we got off very lightly in our neighborhood...

Friday afternoon thought process

Today was, and still is, Good Friday. While I didn't get the day off work, I got what some would consider the next best thing: an early close. So, when 3PM arrived, I got up from my desk and headed for the elevators. My plan was simple: grab the shuttle to the train station, catch a bus from there, then walk a short distance home.

I arrived in the lobby to see a co-worker looking at the screen that shows where the shuttle is. The screen is new, and earlier in the week I had talked to Ivan about how useless it is. I checked the screen, and the shuttle was right outside! Plan seemed to be working. I walked towards the doors, but no shuttle. I looked back at the screen, which mustn't have updated in a timely fashion.

Co-worker: "I guess we just missed it..."

Me: "I guess so. Unless... no, they don't often break out the special invisible bus."

Co-worker: "Yeah... probably not today anyway."

My mind started whirring: "The 33 bus gets me closer to home, and that runs at 3 and 3:30. The 31 gets me in the right neighborhood, and it runs at 3, 3:15, 3:30 and 3:40. If there is only 1 shuttle running at the moment, then it's going to take around 20 minutes to get to the train station and back. That means I will miss the 3:15 bus, and it could cut it fine with the 3:30 bus."

Me: "I'm gonna do the walking thing."

Co-worker: "The walking thing? I think I'll wait. Have a good one!"

Me: "You too."

I pushed through the doors and started for the grass that would cut me across the courtyard at the front of the building. I looked at my watch: 3:02. I crossed the road and started thinking:

"I wonder how long it would take me to walk home?"

I've wondered it before, and I kept thinking that this might be the perfect time to find out. It's early, it's not hot and it's not cold. It's overcast, so the sun isn't too strong.

"I'm going to walk home."

I kept walking, mapping the route out in my mind. I decide on a general direction and then think about how it would have been cool to take random pictures along my walk.

"Damn lack of a working camera phone!"

Now, let me explain. Work provided me with a Blackberry around 2 years ago. The model that they gave me, the 8830, doesn't come standard with a camera. I had to install it myself.

BB Camera: can't work out if the hardware or the software is the problem...

I walked under I-95, it was 3:10.

"Is this really such a good idea? Do I really want... why do I keep seeing those 4 door Porsches (sedans) everywhere lately?" that was the first, but certainly not last, time that I would start thinking about something and then get distracted by something shiny, distinctive smelling or just plain cool.

I passed PF Changs and looked at my watch. 3:13.

"I'm making good time!" was my cheerful realization. I've walked this route before when Liz was having regular appointments at the chiropractor after her car accident last year.

My route continued past the mall and I decide to turn after the mall and head for Bedford Street. I like Bedford Street: it has a few restaurants on it and it has some life to it. It will also then be a straight shot most of the way home. I get about 50 yards away from the intersection with Bedford and the bus that I would have caught at 3:15 is going through the intersection. It feels like a defining moment for me: that bus was the last realistic alternative to walking the rest of the way home. I turned the corner, it's 3:20. The bus is further up the road, stopped at a traffic light. Some people might consider that a taunt, but I'm still determined to see this challenge through.

The first of the restaurant smells hit my nose. The "restaurant" was McDonalds. The smell though is short-lived, as I pass McDonalds and hit Remo's. Remo's is a brick oven pizza restaurant, so the smell is immensely better now that I've walked a dozen steps forward. I keep going, and within about 20 yards I get the next smell.

"Mmmmm... Lucky's...." Lucky's Classic Burger and Malt Shop smells awesome, and the smell lasts from well before the front door to well past it.

I passed a small park, looking at a sculpture of a girl sitting on a bench. "Is she holding a mirror or a lollypop? She's pretty young, it must be a big ass lollypop. Wait, now that I am closer, she's holding lipstick in the other hand. That girl is way to young looking for lipstick."

I passed the church, and behind me I heard the unmistakeable burble of a boxer engine. I turned my head slightly and saw a 2005 WRX driving past me. Black, not too dark tinted windows, tasteful wheels, no rear spoiler. It's a nice car. Then, as I watch it, it passes a parked USPS truck!!!! Jackpot! 2 nice vehicles in as many seconds.

I've never walked down this side of the road before, and it brings me closer to the cop shop (police station) than I remember being. I start to notice a pattern amongst the cruisers parked out the front. "Hehe - car 25 is parked next to car 24. Then they're pulling 23 in too." Then there's an empty spot. "It's labelled 22... well, I guess that makes sense..." The pattern continues until I reach the end of the line, which ended a few cars later. Then it was a big jump, all the way down to 10. "What?!?!" The sudden drop in numbers blew my mind. It wasn't an ordinary cruiser either - it was one of the more stealthy, unmarked cars. The funny thing about their unmarked cars is that they still have Stamford Police stickers on them, they're just the same color as the car. "I wonder why the guy parked in such an obviously wrong spot in the numbered series?" I concentrated for a second, because I had to cross the road. I turned my head, and then I saw it. "Wait - is the unmarked car in an unmarked spot? Well played, Stamford Police."

So by now it's about 3:26 or so, and I'm passing a church. They have a sign up saying that they have a free Good Friday concert at 8PM. "I wonder if Faith + 1 is playing!" For the next few minutes I have this is my head:

Christian Rock Hard
Tags: SOUTH
PARKmore...

My walk got boring for a few minutes, and I know what you're thinking: "Got boring? Why am I even reading this?" My attention was snapped back into focus by a flashing light. It was the type you would see on the top of an old police car, like at the start of a Naked Gun movie. It was mounted to the top of a non-descript trademan style van. "Contractor... I wonder if that's a mafia van? What? Why would that be a mafia van? And why would a mafia van want to draw attention to itself?" For the next few seconds I chuckle at my own brain's stupidity.

I reached the Ridgeway, which is a shopping center. I went to cross the road, and noticed the striped crossing under my feet. Out of nowhere, a Family Guy moment struck me. For the next minute or so, as I started up the hill, my brain kept going "Left foot, right foot" in Chris Griffin's voice.

My brain often has arguments with itself, where one part of it seems to be me, and the other part deems it necessary to refer to me in the third person.

"Hills? I didn't sign up for this!"

"Don't worry, Russell. Wherever you have an uphill like this, you have downhills as well. It's like you tell yourself on hikes!"

"Yeah, but brain, hikes are round trips, I'm only walking home one way!"

"You mean those hills just before home are all going to be uphill with no accompanying downhill?"

I hit the top of the small rise and realized that the gas station/mechanic at the bottom of the hill often has a USPS truck parked there. It seems to placate both sides of my arguing brain and I walk quickly down the hill. I'm rewarded by catching a glimpse of the parked USPS truck. I look up the rise I'm starting to climb, and I spot a current model Subaru Outback waiting up ahead at a T-intersection.

"I like the Outback, but I really didn't think I would. The first Legacy I saw, it just did nothing for me. But now I like them, and I think I like the Outback even more. Hey, an old Outback just passed me. Yeah, I like the new Outback much more. Hey, look, a HomeGoods. I wonder if I could get an Outback at a price that makes me HomeGoods happy" again I find myself laughing at myself, this time at my cleverness instead. "I've been walking for too long!"

Then I catch another whiff on the air. It smells like asian food, but not particularly good asian food. "But why am I smelling it outside an American style diner? Oh, I'm downwind from Chili Chicken. Whose idea was it to do an Indian-inspired Asian restaurant? Or is it Asian-inspired Indian? I can't remember..."

Now was the time to focus: I had to make a decision. I could veer right, and take the less busy street, Oaklawn, home, or I could stay on the main road. The path naturally veered right, so I kept walking up towards Oaklawn. It has sidewalks I had never walked on: I figure I may as well get some use out of the hassles the roadwork caused while they were putting the sidewalks in... I look up while I'm on the small street, because I've seen a Red-Tailed Hawk around here on more than one occasion. No sign of it today, though.

I started down Oaklawn, and then I saw another one. Another USPS truck. This one was being driven though. The driver must have caught me looking, because he waved to me. He may have also waved because he was pulling over right where I had just walked.

At the driver's wave, a new thought starts: "You know, the people at the post office are very hit and miss; sometimes they're nice, sometimes they're just plain rude and make it seem like you being there is the biggest inconvenience in the world for them. But the guys out delivering the mail? I've never met one that wasn't a nice person. Granted, we've only had a few mail people since I moved here, but each of them that I have met has been nice. These guys are out 6 days a week, in all kinds of weather, and they're still really nice. Maybe it's because they're free, and they spend so much time outside. But winter would suck... the only constant is the truck. USPS delivery staff are nice because they get to spend so much time in those awesome trucks."

It was an epiphany.

I got to Pepper Ridge Road, and I looked at my watch for the first time in a long time. It was 3:52. "Wow! I'm going to break an hour! I'm only going to get home a few minutes later than I would have if I had caught the 3:30 bus and had minimal walk! This is awesome!!! I really need to pee! And what is that awful manure-like smell?!"

The good thoughts, desire to pee and desire to escape the smell start to propel me up the hill. About half way up my legs started to burn. I'm showing winter fitness levels right now... I looked up and saw 2 planes flying across the sky, then two other forms circling one another.

"Red-Taileds!"

I could tell they were hawks because they were flying flatter than vultures, and they weren't wobbling. Seeing the raptors buoyed my spirits and I reached the turn to our street and powered along. I checked the mail, walked up the back stairs and plonked my bag down on the deck to get my keys out.

At 3:02 I had been standing in the lobby of the office. Now, at 3:58, I was standing on the back deck. If you do the math, that's 56 minutes to walk 3.7 miles/5.92 kilometres. In winter shape I'll take that.

It might have taken me a couple of minutes longer to get home, but it gave me time to think. It also made me realize: perhaps I don't want time to think - sometimes, it gets weird.

BLT Day

The story of my day today actually starts on Wednesday. I sat at my desk Wednesday morning, and tore off Tuesday's page on the "Bacon Love" calendar. It revealed the following new and interesting information:

"National BLT month? Is this for real?" was my thought. I checked a couple of places on the net and found confirmation. I posted the following to Facebook, and started thinking about a BLT.

I spoke to Liz about it in the car on the way home, she gave me an idea, and it was decided. While Liz went out today, I would make it BLT day.

So this morning we woke up, Liz got ready and left, and I pondered what was ahead of me. Mmm... the BLT. I wasn't ready to start making food yet, so I turned on the TV and sat on the couch. Avatar The Last Airbender was on, "Hehe - good start to the morning" I thought. Then things got better. I stood up to go get a drink, and as I walked back into the living room I saw it. It sat across our driveway in all it's beauty and resplendent glory.

I had to take a picture, because words can't describe how awesome USPS trucks are. All the omens were pointing to the day being a good one, so I finished the Avatar episode and got to preparations. The first thing I was going to need was bread. No point in making a sandwich without something to sandwich the fillings between. So, I got to work on the bread first. I took a two bowl approach, wet ingredients in one bowl, dry ingredients in another.

I mixed them together, threw them in the bread machine and pressed the start button. OK, 3 hours and 15 minutes and I'll have a loaf of bread. The laptop has been acting up lately, so I grabbed it and started the work to back it up and reinstall Windows. I wanted some background noise while I was doing it though, so I turned the TV back on. What's this? Spike is running the original Star Wars trilogy all day? And Empire recently started? The good things kept adding up, so I sat there reciting the dialogue and kicking off the Windows install. Fast forward 3 hours, and Empire had become Jedi, and the beep from the kitchen signaled that we have a loaf of bread!

I let it cool for an hour or so, then sliced it and got to work on the rest of the BLT. I'm not eating bread sandwiches here!

There's a glamour shot of the bread half sliced. Time to work on the B: it's bacon time! I took out the bacon, a new pack, and decided that my earlier decision of 4 strips should do it. I laid them out in the cast iron, snapping a photo before putting the bacon press on them and cooking them up.

While the bacon was cooking I got to work on the L. Lettuce is boring, so I'm not going to go into detail on how I washed it and, well, that's all. Time to make sure that the T is coming along. Here's the twist in the BLT tale. I don't like tomato. Sure, I'll eat it in chili, or pasta sauce, or ketchup, or well, you get the idea, I'll eat tomato when it is in something. But the thought of a slice of tomato sitting on a sandwich, contaminating it and soaking the bread with its wetness disgusts me. That's where Liz' suggestion from the other day came back. We'd been talking about other T foods. So I added one of those:

TACO! That's right: this BLT is a Bacon, Lettuce and Taco Sandwich. Time to start assembly!

The taco went first, I wanted the BLT in order from the top. Then I threw on the lettuce. Bacon should be done by now!

Oh yeah, look at that! Time to add the B to the LT.

and let's take a lower, more cross section-like view:

I had toasted the bread, so I didn't want it to be too dry. Normally mayo would go on a BLT, but regular mayo just wasn't going to cut it. So I took a page from the book of Erin: I subbed the mayo for chipotle bbq mayo.

Now all that is left to do for this BLT is to put that top slice where it belongs. I threw some roughly cut sweet potato fries on the side and food's done!

But I wasn't quite done yet: you can't have a meal this good without some liquid deliciousness to accompany it. Cream Soda will do the trick!

And there you have it. The culmination of BLT Day. But how did it taste? Really good. The taco wasn't as overpowering as I thought it would be, the hint of chipotle bbq mayo helped add a little to it, and you could taste the bacon throughout.

Now the dishes are done, the laptop's been fixed and I'm sitting, reminiscing about the wonders of BLT Day. A pleasing thought just occurred to me: the weekend isn't over, and there's still bacon in the fridge...