March Madness

Perhaps you've heard? Warren Buffet is offering a billion dollars to anyone who picks a perfect bracket for this year's NCAA tournament. (Don't worry-- those two 16th seed play-in spots are not included.) Even so, the odds, they say, are 1 in 128 billion.

If you are so inclined, you can do a little research to find out just how slim your chances are (the same as flipping heads 37 times in a row, for example), but I have another question. What would you do with a billion bucks? Or, if you take it in a lump sum, 500 million bucks, minus 39.6%? That seems practically unspendable to me, but perhaps my tastes are too simple?

I confess that I did enter the contest... fingers crossed I'll be able to answer that last question myself.

Anything is possible

until Thursday.

Popcorn

My dad was neither a good eater nor an accomplished cook, but he did have a few culinary specialties. On Saturday morning he would fry bacon and cut up oranges into eighths for us to eat while we watched cartoons. Later, when he took us grocery shopping for the week, store brand sodas were 10 for a dollar so each of us got to choose three and he picked the tenth. (It was always cream soda or root beer.)

We drank the sodas on nights when my mom was out at one of her meetings or another. Then, my dad would make popcorn on the stove and serve it with plenty of salt and butter in the biggest bowl we had. He set it in the middle of the three of us on the floor in front of the TV, and we would crunch and munch and wash it down with ice cold soda straight from the can. When the popcorn was gone, the unpopped kernels languished in a little puddle of butter and salt at the bottom of the bowl until it was wiped away one little fingerful at a time.

I took advantage of that one more unexpected snow day we had today to pop some corn over the fire. When it was done, I poured it in my big bowl, a twin to the one my dad used, and sat down on the floor in front of the fire to crunch and munch and enjoy the warmth, both of the fire and of the memory of those long ago evenings.

Silver Palate

Finding a table for a party of six at 7:30 on a Saturday night can be tricky in these parts. Most of the places we checked had at least a 90 minute wait, but then for some reason I recalled a review I had read a few years back about a Burmese restaurant in the area. The description of the menu, 200+ dishes that would take you on a gastronomic tour of Myanmar, had stuck with me, and I'd been meaning to try it for some time.

When I called, I could hear the clamor and clank of a busy Saturday service over the phone, but they told me that they could probably seat us in 30 minutes, so off we went. A few minutes later we found ourselves in front of a storefront in a strip mall. The sign either didn't work, or was turned off, but we pushed in through the standard plate glass door and waited for a six top to open.

I'm lucky to live in such a diverse area with so many ethnic restaurants to choose from. As kind of a foody, though, it's been a while since I have experienced anything completely unfamiliar as far as cuisine is concerned. That all changed when I took a look at the menu as I waited.

Myanmar is bordered by Thailand and Malaysia to the south, Laos and China to the East, and India and Bangladesh to the North. Consider, for a moment, the intersection of all those cuisines. Can't do it? Neither could I. Add to that my lack of experience with anything Burmese (except the python and Aung San Suu Kyi) and you might have an idea of how clueless I felt approaching the menu.

The six of us blundered through, though, and we had food that ranged from the sublime to something my brother politely spit into his napkin. It was both interesting and frustrating, and on the way home, Heidi asked me if I'd ever eat there again. "No way!" I told her and went on to explain my disappointment.

Later, though, I took a second look at the review I'd read so long ago. They had said that some dishes were uneven, and they had also provided a primer for the inexperienced. Two of the dishes we liked, ginger salad and chicken coconut soup, were on that list, but there were several others that we had not tried.

Oh all right! I'll go back.

What kind of a foodie would I be anyway to dismiss an entire cuisine after one try?

The Spice of Life

I can honestly say that I don't mind 60 degree weather one day and a possible snowstorm the next.

Bring it!

Wearin o' the Green

Was it just last year that St. Patrick's day was on a Sunday and April Fools a teacher work day? Talk about luck of the Irish-- in middle school, those have got to be two of the silliest days on the calendar, and missing them both in a single year? Brilliant!

This year, though? We're up da spout, lads, and St. Paddy's day is Monday. In an effort to prevent as much pinchin' as possible, I've loaded up on green pipe cleaners and beads, so that anyone who wants to court a little luck can fashion themselves a wee emerald charm.

If not? I recommend this little blessing:

May your neighbors respect you,
Trouble neglect you,
The angels protect you,
And heaven accept you.

Tony

It was windy when I left school this evening. The 50 mph gusts that had our light poles swaying earlier in the day had given way to calmer, but more sustained wind. As I crossed the parking lot, my eye caught a flash of buff and auburn against the blustery blue sky to my right.

It was hawk. At first I thought perhaps it was on the hunt, the way it powered its mighty wings into the wind, and then let go to soar like a glider on the upgusts. I watched it for a while, curious about its quarry, wondering what possible meal could be scurrying across the windblown asphalt.

The longer I looked though, the clearer it became that this hawk?

Just catching air, dude!

It Takes Two

My students are pairing up for a collaborative writing project over the next couple of weeks, so today I had them "interview" prospective partners and then submit their requests to me, along with a rationale as to why this particular duo would be a good match-up. Before they go to work, each proposal has to be approved by me.

Most kids pick their friends, which is hardly surprising; I know what I do when put in a similar situation. Still, I like to know what they're thinking when they consider the endeavor ahead; it can be very enlightening, and in some cases it helps me to explain why I haven't approved a certain partnership.

Today I laughed out loud when I read the following explanation:

I know he's a slacker, but he's got a BIG imagination!

That about sums it up-- seems like that student knows the risks and advantages, too.

Approved!