(Currently rushed, the following is unedited)  

Things have been just fine over here this past week, just so’s ya know.  Because you’ve all been thirsting for news on this suburban joyride, right?  Right? 

Right.  So here’s the recap of the highlights, which tend to fall in with the array of topics we’ve covered over the last couple of months… I’ve yet to dismantle the ice rink which, more precisely, is now a swimming rink.  Part of me refuses to let go; I put in the effort, it just didn’t give back enough this year and my heart is all ouchy over it.  Another factor in letting the pond live on in the backyard is how Murphy’s Law presides over our existence.  If I drain the beast then we can fully expect a deep cold snap and then people would just get mad at me.

 In terms of skating, Jacko finally got the hockey bug. We signed him up for clinics, got him the gear and he’s been wearing the stuff like he’s ready for the Stanley Cup all week. For extra practice, we’ve been heading over to the arena in Norfolk. A run down joint with soft ice, toxic restrooms which burn eyes, nose & throat, and a questionable choice of music on the PA.  While lacing up Liz Phair’s H.W.C. came on. For those of you unfamiliar with catchy, poppy tune allow me to explain the acronym to you.  The “C” refers to the cinematic jargon for male ejaculation, the “W” is for its preferred color and “H” for the lyrically ideal temperature.  And she doesn’t sing the initial, which is probably why there was a little girl there whose dad was skating with a very puzzled expression on his face. 

There has been YMCA activity for the family, though the new pool schedule forced us to swim on a Sunday which, if you’re not already familiar with my tracts about the Y, really sucks. The water is a swarm of maniacal brats and inconsiderate, ugly adults. I needed goggles to protect myself from the splashing of hairy, spazzoid Indian kids while Elsie got plowed over once by somebody’s tubby mom and again by some pale jackass whose face had turned purple from the chlorine.  The one time this week I managed to slip off to the gym for some dumbbell breast augmentation some lady took my sweat pants off a row of hooks to make room for her coat and douchebag. Where is the respect for anybody anymore?

 I’ve taken to sleeping with an athletic supporter and cup.  Jack had a bad cough brought on by strep throat and when the kids are sick we often cave in to the highly questionable of letting the kids sleep with us.  Jack in my bed with mom, Elsie in Jack’s with me.  And my little princess is of exactly the right length and nocturnal habits to kick me in the jimmies.  A lot. Alllllll night long.  I’m lying about the jock strap, but those night are spent waking up at every little movement she makes and reactively throwing a blocking hand down to my groin. 

Delving further into the theme of emasculation, I had cause to be proud of my son’s character – even though I’d tried to subvert it a little. The skating bug has suddenly hit the hood hard.  Kids from 10 to 14 have been looking for ice or throwing nets in the street to play hockey on roller blades. Cool for Jack now, considering that even last year, of all the yard apes on the block, there was only one girl who was interested in skating with him.  One of Jack’s buddies has been calling for him to come over and rollerblade.  He’s been using his sister’s hand-me-downs.  They’re gray and purple…with a good splash of pink. 

   Now I’ve never been one to make fun of people for things beyond their control*. I prefer going after character flaws. But Jack’s buddy can be a strident d-bag at times, teasing Jack by saying crap like “orange is a girl’s color” or “skating is pretty stupid.” He’s the youngest kid at home, and attacking the rest of the world is just his response to getting dumped on by older siblings.  So those pink skates were a big turnaround opportunity for Jack.  When he came home I asked if he made fun of Luke for wearing girl skates.

   Ummmm… No.  I guess I didn’t, Dad…

   Oh? Well, uh, that’s really good that you didn’t, buddy.  But, y’know…you could if you wanted…

   I really shouldn’t have planted that seed.  My son was being a stand-up kid, by really only having an interest in playing – not in douching on a pal’s gear.  Sometimes, I just get tired of the dumb, nasty stuff kids say to each other and get particularly defensive about any shit sent towards mine.  I need to ease up, because it’s going to be happening a lot in the next 10-15 years; no creature is as nasty to a kid as another kid. What I should be concentrating on is how help the kids have thicker skins and how to maintain their self-esteem as they grow up.  And how to knock somebody’s teeth out if necessary – that’s what the speed-bag is for downstairs….

*except for a brief, highly reactive phase in high school which followed on the heels of a phase of getting shit on myself. 

Thus, in celebration of not being a weenie, protecting your weenie and songs about things which exit through weenies I offer up a recipe for Weenie Sauce! 

For those not in the know, weenie sauce refers to the meat sauce put atop little hot dogs known as New York System Wieners.  They are a Rhode Island original (the NY tag was a marketing thing), they’re highly addictive and the meat sauce is a closely guarded secret by wiener shop people.  People have their favorites – Olneyville’s joint is usually praised as the best. But my people know that the ultimate weenie comes from Woonsocket’s New York Lunch, which itself was once second to the great Coney Island Wieners.  Only a few doors down from New York Lunch, that magical slop chute burned down about 25 years ago. 

So, after some experiments and tweaks here’s something that’s as close to New York Lunch as I can get without kidnapping the owner, Dennis, and attaching jumper cables to his nipples. 

New York Lunch Weenie Sauce

Note – to complete the wiener you’ll need steamed hotdog rolls (or wrap in paper towels and soften in microwave), celery salt, chopped onion and mustard.  And wieners – any mild, skinless hot dog will suffice but you can get the authentic kind here: http://www.littlerhodyhotdogs.com

 1 lb ground beef (not too lean, 80-85%)
3 tbs vegetable shortening
1 small onion, minced

1 ½ cups water
1 tbs garlic powder
1 ½ tbs allspice
1 tablespoon salt
1 pinch of pepper
1 ½ tbs chili powder

Sauté onions in shortening over med-low heat until soft and translucent – but not brown. Add water. Add raw beef – do not brown ahead (important). Add remainder of spices. Simmer gently for at least 2 hours, adding a little water if necessary – mixture should be wet and slightly soupy.