Jesus Plays Golf

EA Sports has a fantastic response to a consumer's YouTube video.

The Blog Myth

Aren't blogs just sites where people write to complain about stuff?

No mom. They're so much more than that.

It's part of my human nature to share, teach and spread knowledge - or maybe that's my 'oldest child' trait. I got excited about how I could spread my interactive knowledge to my mom. As I watched her thumb through the glossy pages of a magazine, I had an aha moment about how a feedreader could be leveraged as a relevant tool for her. Instead of waiting each month for the zines, I'll open her daily computer habits to include bite size tidbits of inspiration.

So begins my quest to spread inspire the blog skeptics, one mom at a time. She now knows blogs aren't just for complaining. They're for getting french country design inspiration, craft ideas, answering: what's for dinner, and getting up close & personal Martha.

The Difference Between Good vs Great, and a Polenta Recipe That Could Feed a Roman Army

A good restaurant introduces you to new flavors, aromas and combinations. It inspires you to try and make the same dish at home - challenges you to make it even better.

A great restaurant serves magic. It plates mmmmmmmm evoking cuisine. It graces you with flavors that dance on your pallet. These send a signal to your brain that says, what is that, it's delicious, I could never make that, I will definitely come back here for more. A great restaurant introduces you to an addiction.

I've been to good and great food establishments in Portland. I despised Italian food as a kid, but now it's all I think about - foodwise. In case you're fishing for recommendations, Cafe Mingo and now Bar Mingo are pretty great Italian restaurants in my book.

I went to a good Italian place in the Pearl and had good polenta. It was so memorable (sarcasm), that I actually can't even remember what it's called. All I remember, was an introduction to a new way to eat polenta - the food staple of the Roman Army. This meal made me think...hmmm that tasted good, I'm going to make that. But make it even better.

So I'll share my great-fantastic-even better than the restaurant polenta recipe, inspired by a good Italian joint.

1 cup Bob's Red Mill Polenta Mix
3 cups water
1 tsp salt
2 cloves minced garlic
2 tbsp butter
black pepper - a couple grinds
red pepper flakes - a couple shakes
white wine - a couple splashes
milk - a couple splashes
goat cheese
parmesan cheese
prosciutto slices

Boil water with salt and garlic. Gradually stir in polenta (per Bob: use a tall wooden spoon because the polenta will pop and bubble. True dat Bob). Reduce to a simmer. Sprinkle in black+red pepper. Plop in butter and a little more salt if you feel like it. Stir. Simmer for about 15 minutes. Be mindful it doesn't stick and stir throughout. At about 13 minutes, splash and stir in some wine, and set your oven to broil. When the buzzer sounds, stir in milk. Plate polenta, sprinkle on cheeses and lay prosciutto slices across. Broil for 2-5 minutes. Caution: hot plate. Enjoy. Makes 1 yummy serving plus leftovers for lunch at work.

Jury Duty Bag

The typically bustling 23rd Ave was still. I was up early with the joggers, dog walkers and garbage men. While patiently waiting for the 15 to whisk me off to jury duty, my bag lightly dented my shoulder. It was full, but just light enough to carry. Like Mary Poppins there's all sorts of things I could make appear from the bag - work, knitting, a crossword puzzle, snack, drink, first aid kit.

This was similar to how I pack for a plane ride. If I had to sit for hours on end, I wanted each minute to have the opportunity to be filled with something exciting and productive. But as I lug it all home, even though the contents have remained the same, the bountiful bag feels heavier with each step. I curse myself for going the boyscout route - always be prepared. For what? To be entertained.

Evolution of a Fan

I invite you to take a moment and reflect on when you were seven.

You were probably in the second grade, if that helps ignite your memory.

Now try and remember what you were interested in. What hobbies did you have? What were you excited about?

In the early 1990s the Blazers were two-time Western Conference champs and NBA champion contenders.

The Rose City was infected with Blazer fever – red head bands encircled foreheads, and Busta Bucket blared from radio speakers. I was seven.

During the 1990 playoff game I donned a charcoal grey t-shirt featuring caricatures of Clyde the Glyde pitted against the rockstar for the Pistons, Isaiah Thomas.

I recall being so appreciative when my dad had agreed to purchase the game on cable. I sat on our orange and brown striped sofa wearing this shirt, with my eyes glued to the screen.

My Blazer memorabilia also included trading cards.

A maroon three ringed binder protected my close to complete set of NBA cards of the teams from the early 90s.

From the Atlanta Hawks to the Utah Jazz, the plastic holders were organized alphabetically by team, with a section in the back for the coaches. As a second grader, I had the entire binder memorized.

If you flipped open a page I could name the player or coach (and I know the cards feature the names, but this was a skill done solely by viewing a player’s face). It was my photographic memory in action and probably a unique skill for a seven-year-old girl.

But today I could only tell you two players on the Blazers' team – that is, if you count the injured, 2007 number one draft pick guy who doesn’t play.

Today, I get ticked when Blazers games push their way into the primetime line-up and shows I enjoy are pre-empted.

Flashback to 17 years ago, I used to stage internal protests against the cable company for monopolizing and blacking out the games.

Yet today I struggle to muster up the same passion for the NBA and the Blazers that I had when I was younger.

My adult perspective on the game wonders why some of the players seem to lack a passion for the sport. Perhaps it’s because as an adult I recognize that their daily drive gets muddied with how much they’re getting paid to play the game.

In more recent years, the Blazers have also had some off-the-court fouls that have made it difficult for me to stand by them as a fan.

When I was seven, all I wanted to do was be a part of the team and the experience. I was excited about the Blazers.

Deep down I’ve earmarked a small piece of me to always be a Blazers Believer. But today, when it comes to sports, I’ve been more excited about football. Maybe that’s just because my dad, my sports role model, is now more of a pigskin fan.