Seafaring Fare

My overworked belts are appreciative that the Christmas cookie making season ended last night. It certainly went out with a bang with my wife creating a huge batch of gingerbread cookies from a recipe gifted to her by the Cali-Daughter. Their safe removal to cold storage awaiting the holiday removed their completely irresistible presence within consumable range.

But Of Course I'm Cool

Cali-Daughter and Wingman checked in from California last night with the First Blog reader cooing in the background. Granddaughter is resisting the occasional bottle, deciding she much prefers to obtain sustenance from the source. She is sleeping longer at night which is a welcome respite and achieved her first bath in a bathtub without a single complaint. It’s fun to hear a recounting of her achievements with the obvious joy permeating the telling and remembering going through the same thing with the permeated young mom.

First Time in her Tub

Call me Ismael. Date night last evening saw us at In the Heart of the Sea which recounts Herman Melville learning of the true life whale attack scenario that led to every high school English student’s bane – Moby Dick. I think the director tried a little too hard to stick with historical truths instead of permitting more interesting plot twists to develop. The first half of the movie dealing with the initial part of the voyage and the dangers of whale hunting was fascinating with some jaw dropping special effects.

The story itself is assuredly harrowing enough as Mr. Dick takes umbrage to the whole whale slaughtering business and sinks Thor’s ship. The resulting stranded seafaring journey across the Pacific with the attendant troubling choices in cuisine has been done many times before and wasn’t particularly memorable here. A nice update but this was still done so much better in the 1950’s film with Gregory Peck as Ahab, tough to compete with a John Huston film with a Ray Bradbury script.

I also finished watching season two of Fargo last night. I'm a huge fan of dark comedy and this show was certainly beyond the pale. So darkly funny that I had a hard time keeping myself from giggling at times. Do yourself a favor and catch this On Demand or re-runs - unless the odd homicidal Midwestern maniac puts you off. 

My favorite son has fallen victim to his father’s predilection for sci fi and fantasy novels and recently took up Terry Goodkind’s epic Sword of Truth series. When I finished my rampage through all things Scudderian I decided to check in with Goodkind to see if he’d published anything recently. I was pleasantly surprised to see that he’d actually published an entire new series of books based on the original Sword of Truth characters, Richard and Kahlan.

Yesterday I finished the first in the new series, The Omen Machine. The story boasted all of Goodkind’s usual painstaking detail into how magic works in this world which at times became a little distracting. Richard is assailed by a new enemy infiltrating from within and discovers a huge machine underneath his palace which issues dire portends. Goodkind is at his best when he puts Richard into action (see below) and there was all too little of that here. Richard and Kahlan are just coming off defeating an immense army of evil doers and they seemed like rookies in this book. After all they’ve been through I hated seeing them once again being pummeled and torn up. I expected more from this daring duo but of course I’ve already purchased and started in on the next one. Goodkind’s got me again.

Some of the excellent words from Terry Goodkind in The Omen Machine as Richard goes into action:

“Richard dropped into a crouch as he landed. Glowing, hooded forms hovered to the side while figures from a nightmare, their gaunt limbs flailing about in the air, danced around the room, high-stepping, slapping their bony feet to the woven floor, making the whole room drum. Their heads thrown back, needle-sharp teeth bared, they all chanted strange guttural sounds in time with their stamping feet. The sound of it lifted the fine hairs at the back of his neck. The sight of it made him grip his sword all the tighter. A haze of acrid smoke hung in the air. The sharp smell of fresh blood overlay even the stench of death.  A small woman in the center of the room, surprised by the intruder, turned to stare up at him with big, black eyes. Her lips were sewn together with strips of leather.”

Mom Under Siege from her Admirers

Ready to Rock

With the California Christmas Tree

Dad Time