Casey's Just Sayin'

I think criticizing is probably the most basic reaction any of us can have to something we find undesirable, disagreeable or otherwise counter to our own personal culture. We use criticism at work, at home, in politics, with religion, etc. etc. Some criticisms are brilliant to be sure; crafty webs of words that dig into the subject like an ice-cream scoop in melting butter. Like this parody my SIL turned me on to earlier today. I can't wait for my iPad, but this is hilarious . Some are barely above slobbering grunts. But I’m talking about the decision to criticize as being simple-minded, not necessarily the criticism itself. That moment when the switch is thrown, before a single word of negative reaction can be shared, I think is at the lowest level of human interaction. Criticism is basic because it’s absolutely unproductive in the end, save maybe the hue and crier getting his or her rocks off. If you agree with the criticism you may raise your hand in salute or bark a hard laug...

I’ve talked before about my dad with his incredible cooking and I've mentioned at least some of his creations. Well, every once in a while I like to make one for the kids. I don’t ask that they eat what I make because I’m pretty sure I didn’t care for most of it when I was very young, but I do ask that they try it. Today was S.O.S. or Shit on a Shingle . This is more mundanely known as chipped-beef on toast, but I didn’t hear that title until I was grown. The recipe is simple: 1 pound lean ground beef 1 onion, chopped 2 tablespoons flour 2 tablespoons butter (“Not margarine,” my dad would say. 1 cup milk Brown ground beef and drain. Add onions and cook until tender. Keep warm. Put flour and butter in a cup and microwave for 30 seconds. Stir together. Pour milk into saucepan and add butter/flour mix. Add salt and pepper to taste (liberally). Heat, stirring frequently, until sauce reaches desired thickness. Pour over ground beef/onion and mix together Serve on buttered toast...

This doesn’t happen very often. I feel the need and want to say something, but I don’t know what to say. On Thursday I had my 42nd birthday. It was by any measure a great day. On Friday my ex-wife, the 40-year-old mother of my beautiful girl, lost her battle with Lyme disease. In many ways we were opponents in life. We battled for six years during our marriage and then, as young parents often do, we battled over our daughter. Jess was 5 when we split. She’s 21 now. This spectacular creature I cherish more than each breath was conceived during a period of very young, very passionate love. And that is how she lives her life, passionately and with mountains of love. She is one-half her mother and I can’t help but be grateful for that. As much as we fought, as fierce as our battles were, I’m still torn up. It’d be convenient to say I’m torn up because my daughter is torn up and that’s certainly true. But it’s more than that. There’s guilt in there. There’s my own personal loss ...

I thought today (in case I fall down a well tomorrow and Lassie is drunk) that I might make a list of my passwords. This was just a passing thought… just a brief breeze across the surface of the deep pond that is my wondrous brain, causing only the slightest ripple. Hahahahaha… Sorry, I'm entertaining myself now... Where was I? Oh, yeah, passwords. Ever stop to think, really think, how many passwords we all use in our daily lives? It’s significant. Start with my MacBook which is password protected because my kids would be on it 24/7 if it wasn’t. Okay, cool. I put in my password and my computer is up. We’re good to go. Oh, wait… I have four social networking passwords that I can think of including my blog, facebook, Twitter and my handy dandy StatCounter to keep track of it all. I have five mail accounts. I actually have a couple that are active, but I cannot get to because I no longer know the password and have long since lost the master E-mail address it was attached to. So...

After work yesterday I hopped over to the local market to pick up the items needed for my love’s enchiladas and Mexican rice. It’s one of our family’s favorite dishes and I was excited and very nearly salivating as I pushed the cart out onto the sidewalk. 9 times out of ten when I come out of this particular store, there is one of two individuals lying in wait. It’s either a Hispanic gentleman wearing a white suit and big smile asking for donations for an extremely dubious purpose, or it’s a 40-something woman wearing Saturday casual and a big smile asking for signatures for an extremely dubious purpose. I will normally let my eyes lose focus, divert as if trying to make out the 3D-ish pic in those now grossly outdated Magic Eye pictures. But the lady with the petitions was sharper than most, or I was off my game. Even though she was busy thieving sigs from a very old man, she must have caught my motion because before I knew it she was in front of me with a second clipboard and pe...

One of the coolest chicks in the blogosphere suggested that we all come up with twenty things that nurture us. Everyone who has taken this challenge seriously has approached it in a slightly different way, which is one of the things that makes blog communities so cool… the differences within the similarities. For me, I must define. Nurture - to care for and encourage the growth or development of Since really only humans can care for and nurture other humans, what we’re really looking for here are twenty things that inspire us to nurture ourselves. Here we go: 1 – The scents of my woman Which makes me think of the feel of her skin, which makes me think of other nurturing things I will not bring up… 2 – “Hey Dad,” as I walk in the front door at night If those two words don’t ease my soul, nothing will. 3 – Golf The last seven years of my life would not be the same without those long walks and the man-bonding previously missing in nearly my entire adult life. 4 – The smell and fee...

There are certainly thousands of reviews for a movie that, as of this weekend, has grossed more than 2.5 billion dollars worldwide. I stayed away from those reviews as much as possible so my experience with the movie might be untainted. This is the final week for the 3D version of Avatar to play in our town, as with many, because room must be made for the next 3D extravaganza, Alice in Wonderland. With the epic running 2 ½ hours a weekday jaunt was out of the question, so last night was do or don’t. So we did. Before reading further, this is a spoiler further on. So if you haven’t seen it, you might want to stop after The Politics section below. The Effects: The 3D experience continues to fascinate me. How do they do that? What trick are they playing on my retina to make me believe that there is a deadly creature literally flying right out of the screen, hovering above the poor folks in front of me? And each time I see a film with this new 3D I’m astounded all over again. This ...