Last night this time I was lying awake after hearing a lengthy public debate about fish guts. When I say lengthy, I mean it was clocked by hours not minutes. Approximately two of them.

Atlantic Highlands is trying to make its vibrant marina -- home to Seastreak ferry service to Manhattan, commercial and recreational fisherman, sailors and motor-boaters and a couple of eateries -- a "clean marina." The Clean Marina Program is a federal/state partnership that established best management practices and guidelines for all aspects of marina management, which you'd already know if you read that somewhat hefty link. In many marinas, fish may be a small part of the operation. But here in Atlantic Highlands it's a big one, and two camps have emerged: Old-school fisherman say appropriate dumping of fish heads and guts in the water is part of the "circle of life," while beach-goers and marina mavens find floating and landed fish bits unacceptable. Two proposals were raised and, so far, rejected as part of the local enabling legislation -- piercing the eyes and bladders so fish sink, and bagging fish detritus and giving it a burial in a nearby dumpster. As part of the marathon public hearing Wednesday night members of the public suggested manual grinders feeding into the water, machine grinders and composting. Apparently research has been done into contracting fish-grinding out, and it's been found to be rather costly.

Two bottom lines here. (One) I don't know which of the alternatives mentioned would be best for the environment and best for the marina. The beaches and docks here are beautiful -- they are all the more beautiful when nothing but the rare fishkill and some driftwood and shells wash ashore. At the same time, it is entirely possible that some of fishermen's ways may be beneficial to ocean life: It is in their best interests to preserve the fish stocks out there, too. Perhaps a nearby research facility or university can shed some light on the matter without holding clean marina measures up for too long. (Two) All concerned have to consider the fact that the Clean Marina Program is about more than fish, and that its passage is expected to be both an environmental and fiscal boon, as the "incentive-driven" program's home page describes. If it's desirable, then Atlantic Highlands should do it properly -- and do it soon.

Woodruff this evening on ABC's World News Tonight began a series on Iraqi refugees. Interesting and, of course, sad.

So this is what Bob Woodruff's been up to. I was wondering about him.

You've got a friend in Pennsylvania?

Well, it seems a large number of Nova Scotians -- and Canadians in general -- do. Me.

I have discovered I currently have more friends in Halifax than I do in my hometown. This is heartening because rarely is Canada -- and Nova Scotia in particular -- far from mind. It's disturbing because, well, it makes me realize I have to get off my duff and start doing more around here. Sure, I've tried to remain politically in touch both in Pennsylvania and New Jersey. Basic political volunteering, small jobs, discussion, and the rubber-chicken circuit tie me to a cadre of decent folk in the Mid-Atlantic states. That's not enough. I've done volunteer training in literacy and spoken-word book production, and have yet to volunteer.

Plus, I want to chat more with the neighbors and get better about looking up and keeping up old friendships. As Brownie Scouts we sang, "Make new friends/But keep the old/One is silver and the other's gold." Here's to riches!

On a somewhat contrary side note, enough people have now told me to write a book that I'm starting to think I could do it, and starting to consider the possibility that I should.

Expect slow progress, since I haven't even been able to keep up my blog.

Oh, and I've been informed by the kind gentleman who papered up a food post in this space that his goal is to give us one item a month. If I had known this, I could have more effectively supported his goal! That being said, I expect I'll enjoy his next installment. I'm sure you will too. As for me, I'm committing to a minimum of a posting a week -- more if I can. Watch this space.

Where the "mainstream media" (MSM) and the bloggers manage to meet. Believe it or not, it's not just in the magnificent worldview of Peggy "if-I-couldn't-be-myself-I'd-wanna-be-her" Noonan!

It's Sunshine Week. And, no, that's not a reference to the weather -- although it's temperate and on the sunny side where I am right now.

The media, citizens' advocacy groups and others join together once a year to highlight our country's right-to-know legislation and promote open and accountable public government. As pointed out on the Web site of the Asbury Park Press, a fine New Jersey newspaper aquired by Gannett back in the 90s, a devotion to open government can prove costly. Governmental agencies can charge fees for releasing records, the legal costs of court challenges to denials of information can add up quickly, and current legal precedent makes it unlikely that successful claimants will recover court costs. And this is pure speculation on my part, but I'm sure some citizens have been branded as cranks by their community, if not the authorities, for using the freedom of information mechanisms and for asking questions.

At the very minimum, citizens can show their elected representatives they care -- and that they're watching -- by showing up to meetings even when they don't have an issue on the agenda. They can also keeping track of agendas and official Internet postings on community topics. And, of course, they can ask questions, politely and in a clear voice.

Enjoy the sunshine, literal and figurative, and enjoy the freedom that our society offers.

I'm going to step on my new team member's toes, and express my opinion that there is nothing finer to eat on St. Patrick's Day than corned beef and cabbage. And that the best, simplest recipe I've ever seen for perfection in that department is in the Better Homes and Gardens cookbook. Look for its "New England boiled dinner."

Some restuarants on the East coast, most notably Kildare's in my Pennsylvania 'hood, are offering green eggs and ham. Skip the gimmicks, the green beer, even skip the Guinness (just for one day). It's a good meal and a happy home most Irishmen are looking for!

I’ve been invited to contribute to this blog, with food and recipes my suggested topic. I do enjoy eating and don’t at all mind cooking, but I don’t have any recipes of my own, really. I get mine from Epicurious, or from one of the very few cookbooks I own, or my wife clips them from magazines. I may alter them to suit the ingredients available to me, or, more likely, shrink them by a factor of two, three or four. Most of my meals are made for two, although we occasionally entertain guests.

With all that in mind, let me present for your consideration a meal I made to celebrate St. Valentine’s Day. We opted for a home-cooked Valentine’s supper to spare us the expense of going out – and, since I had the day off, the deal was that I would select the menu, shop, and prepare the meal to be ready when my wife came home from work.

An interesting recipe on Epicurious caught my eye: Rosemary Lamb Chops with Swiss Chard and Balsamic Syrup. I went to the Pennington Market for most of the ingredients. It has an excellent butcher shop, but the lamb I bought came vacuum-wrapped from a NJ source: Catelli Brothers French Rack Lamb Chops, 1.02 lb @ $19.99/lb = $20.40. This was an entire frenched rack, suitable for the fanciest of recipes. The store didn’t have any individual chops, but it was no problem for me to cut the chops apart myself. I also bought the red onion and chard there. The garlic came from my garden — some is starting to sprout, but it’s still ok. (It probably won’t last till the new crop is ready.) The rosemary came from two potted plants I keep under a shop light in my cellar. The rest of the ingredients we had in the pantry.

I made the balsamic syrup first, reducing the vinegar with rosemary and peppercorns to one-third its original volume and putting it through a sieve. We don’t have a microwave oven at the moment, so I warmed up the syrup at serving time with a mini bain-marie: I put boiling water in a tea cup and put the small ceramic bowl full of syrup on top, and brought it to the table.

I cut up all the vegetables in advance and sweated the onion and garlic with some olive oil. When my wife came home from work, I broiled the lamb chops with garlic, salt, and pepper in the oven, turning them once; it took about eight minutes. While the meat broiled, I wilted the chard in the onion and garlic. I probably used more water than the one tablespoon called for in the recipe, and I used a lid on the skillet. For once, everything was done cooking at the same time. I supplemented the recipe with some butternut squash (a family favorite), and my wife, without a hint of what would be on our table, brought home a perfect accompaniment: a 187 mL bottle of Casalnova prosecco, $5 at our neighborhood liquor store. And 187 mL was plenty of bubbly considering the dessert I’d prepared.

My wife loves things like chard and butternut; she thinks they promote health and longevity, and I hope she’s right. This was the first time I made chard that tasted good. We used the same recipe the next night with the other half of the bunch. The balsamic syrup recipe really brought to life the cheap vinegar we buy by the quart at BJ’s.

Now for dessert: The other day I saw on television NYC restaurateur Bobby Flay pour an entire bottle of Moet into a tray and put it in a freezer for his Champagne Granita. Great idea, but I can’t afford to do that with the good stuff. I went to the liquor store looking for something a little cheaper, maybe a half bottle. Instead, I found 750 mL bottles of Andre California champagne on sale for $3.34. At that price, how could I go wrong? I followed Mr. Flay’s recipe, adding lemon juice to the wine and scraping every half hour. After three hours in the freezer, it was ready to eat. The result was superb — certainly better than drinking that stuff. I served it plain, without the berries. My wife wants to try using rose water in place of lemon juice next time.

The meal was a major success. It was easy to prepare, fairly inexpensive, and it tasted great. Everything met with my wife’s enthusiastic approval, which made me feel good. I would encourage anyone with a bare minimum of cooking skill to use these recipes for a special dinner to impress a loved one.

The story of wonder-anchor Bob Woodruff got deeper for me after he woke up from his IED-induced coma, although I'll admit to being reduced to sobs by the sheer mechanics of the attack. I have long admired those who maintained their dignity through humbling situations -- and losing the ability to think, to speak and to perceive is an identity-stripping situation for someone who surely must identify himself, in a fundamental way, as a journalist.

It was sweet and painful to see Woodruff play learning games with his children ... diffusing tension by singing about his rehabilitation work while dancing with his wife ... talking with a young serviceman who also has severe restriction of his field of vision about having one good set of eyes between them.

As my friends no doubt know, I bumped my head some years back hard enough to crush my C-7 and, despite testing that assures me I'm still oh-so-brilliant, I can feel the loss of function. And I feel my own frustration. I admire Woodruff's ability to maintain his equanimity while being filmed at less than peak performance, and I admire his ability to admit that he is still not fully firing on all 12 cylinders. Part of me feels inadequate, like a slacker or a whiner, for not just standing up and doing what he is now doing. The fact of the matter is that it didn't go so well for me when I took the same robust approach, and my traditionally overexuberant confidence level diminished substantially as a result.

I worry, too, that Woodruff is pushing himself too hard for the sake of his recovery, the sake of a crucially important story and for the sake of other noble goals which I can only project onto him. I try not to play the celebrity game. I try to realize that those in the spotlight are every bit as human as the people I meet on the street every day, and that fame gives no one a right to guide my life. But we can't help but pick out both the cautionary tales and the role models in the media.

I cannot help but adopt Bob Woodruff as -- at the very least -- a mascot as I continue to insist that I will not only survive the challenges of life, but that I'll also succeed at thriving.

[This may lower my street cred, but, believe it or not, it was Latin pop superstar Gloria Estafan who was a role model for me when I first broke my neck. A tour bus accident had broken her back around the same time, and she came out of the experience with such strength and grace, releasing a musical work (Mi Tierra) of depth and beauty as she did. She helped me motivate to keep my mind and body active and to get back as quickly as I could to good, hard, productive work.]

I've already sweated for one journalist, a colleague and penpal, when he was embedded some years back in the Iraqi engagement. I've had the privilege of fullfilling a promise to buy a New Jersey Reservist a beer when he finished his tour. I also offered to buy -- and ship -- a dress to the guy who was getting the nickname "Klinger" for his devotion to getting back home to his kids at the end of his civilian commitment there. I was a footnote at one of many media gatherings that celebrated the spirit of writer and editor Michael Kelly after he was killed in theater. Let's just say sometimes I delude myself into thinking that it might have been less exhausting to have gone ahead and enlisted.

And I do drag around this sad little bag of guilt for identifying with the "signature injury" of this miltary action without ever having served. Whatever closed head trauma I suffered is nothing compared to the violent percussions and concussions these men and women have.

Yet despite a staggering catalog of objects that were imbedded in and travelling through his body, our favorite embed talks about each near miss as a miracle. And he has been deflecting death and disability at every turn. I want to cultivate his ability to touch base with the positive, to recognize the luck that lets him see his loved ones and lets him return to his life's work. We are lucky to be able to listen to his stories again, and we are luckier that his story right now entwines with the lives of our veterans.

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On other, lighter note: As soon as my buddy can set up his account, we'll see a posting from him -- a romantic meal field tested on St. Valentine's Day but suitable for wooing your sweetie whenever the mood strikes. And don't let the fact that he splurged on some cheap bubbly fool you. This guy knows how to eat and drink. I wouldn't call him a role model in that respect, but more of the kind of guy you'd love to have hosting (or attending) your dinner party, at home or out on the town.

Enjoy.

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I have plans to enrich the above post with a few links. Until then, gentlemen, start your search engines ...

For all those who actually like a blog to have content: Looks like we may have something new.

A friend has consented to post occasional recipes, restaurant recommendations -- and maybe even occasional day trips -- right here.

His invitation to join the blog is still pending, but he'll be a great addition when he gets here.

Watch this space, as they say!

OK, here's a regressive exercise I had been avoiding. Yahoo! Avatars. It reminds me of playing with Barbies and GI Joe. There are almost as many accessories and fashion choices. I kept it simple (for now). Extra bonus: a link to a library that has a problem with porn. Jeez!

I was asked how Election Day was. To be fair I was just asked how "the day" was. But I was focused on electoral activity from 4:30 am until, well, at least now. So this was my answer:

Long, painful & mercifully over. I can't feel my toes. But I did enfranchise at leat 7 new voters, including one new citizen, and did some (very rudimentary) translation for a lovely deaf woman who asked me for help. And explained the machines with glee to a dozen or two, mostly fidgety, kids.

A demain.

Ick!

Not being very big on banning books, imagine my surprise when I take out a semi-random title from a suburban Pennsylvania public library and get X-rated material. I am not exaggerating in the slightest.

I wasn't particularly pleased when Stephen Elliot's anthology "Politically Inspired" turned out to contain some liberal drivel. But the bits in its "erotic" chapters don't border on the grotesque -- they cross the line.

I'm sure this is yet another reason God hasn't blessed me with a kid: I can't begin to imagine what I'd do if my 11-year-old managed to get his hands on something like this.

Here's another quandary for those brighter minds than mine. Those companies doing business in China -- are they opening it up or are they perpetuating a totalitarian system of government?

I'd suspect the truth lies in the middle, and I can't pretend to write the history of China before it even happens. I will, however, bring this effort by Google to bolster free speech -- or perhaps to put a free speech spin on a controversial company -- to netizens' attention.

I like the fact that they include a list of in-links.

Enjoy your cyber and paper reading, whether it's controversial or plain vanilla. Of course, it's always a good idea to help your library circulate books that strike your fancy. It's an equally good idea idea to give feedback to them so their aquisitions people can put themselves in the shoes of the so-called average reader.

I've got to say, I already feel guilty for not tuning in to memorial names recitation at the World Trade Center. Hope you don't fall into that trap.

I am remembering. I have not forgotten. I am hoping history will not distort that awful day, while I, of course, hope time will heal all our losses and wounds.

My relatives heard from me today, as did that good man I mention here from time to time. I am trying to respect this day by living fully and respectfully, and by supporting this great country, its democratic processes and its elected leaders. I pray for all those who have lost someone or had their lives changed as a result of America's struggle against terrorism -- in short, for all of us.

I am trying to particularly remember those who are in harm's way, and those who try to keep harm from visiting our towns, cities, 'burbs and coutryside.

If you're up to some reading, please check out Rich Galen's reposting of his September 11, 2002 column and the New York Post Opinion pages' fine coverage of the anniversary.

Looks as though my access to the Internet may be sporadic for a bit. Given the occasional and sometimes random postings I lob onto here, a service interruption may not even be noticed. However, I'm absolving myself of any responsibility to even *think* about this blog until I get service reestablished. Or until I get a good, reliable place to post from a public Internet connection. Ta ta for now.

That second poem? Cummings. I pinned it down the other day, but haven't been able to post 'til now.

Fox News' Steve Centanni and Olaf Wiig are out of Gaza. No word yet on how this was accomplished, although BBC World's Anita McNaught, Olaf's wife, opened a televised news conference prior to the pair's arrival in Jerusalem by stating an obvious fact: they will never be able to acknowledge some players in the process.

It is good to be relieved for the sake of the families and employers involved -- and it's nice to hear some good news for a change.

Both journalists looked to be the picture of health. Pictures can be deceiving, though, and I hope they do both enjoy good health, get crucial rest and continue to find happiness in their pursuits.

How kidnappings, abductions and detentions, supply lines and funding sources play into a commitment to end terrorism remains a volatile issue. Figuring out how governments, non-government militias and fringe terrorist groups interact -- and who gets the guns and bread when, how and from whom -- are questions that brighter minds than mine must continue to try to address.

In the meantime, two guests at the Hotel Terror were able to check out. They did, indeed, leave.

Ah, love. Yeah, right. Sure.

Well, I did run into what I thought was poetry -- good poetry -- in my early teens.

The first belongs to e.e. cummings; I haven't yet made a trip to a library to find a source for the second one -- it may have been an original one of mine or a less well known e.e. cummings work. I'm betting it also belongs to cummings. From my handwriting on the pair of them, I'd guess I was in the seventh, eighth or ninth grade. (around the same time I was doing dozens of extremely naive haiku studies of trees)

First cummings' iconic work:

since feeling is first
who pays any attention
to the syntax of things
will never wholly kiss you;

wholly to be a fool
while Spring is in the world

my blood approves,
and kisses are a better fate
then wisdom
lady i swear by all flowers. Don't cry
-- the best gesture of my brain is less than
your eyelids flutter which says

we are for each other: then
laugh, leaning back into my arms
for life's not a paragraph

And death I think is no parenthesis

e.e. cummings

And this one, of unknown parentage:

except in your
honour,
my loveliest,
nothing
may move may rest
-- you bring

(out of dark the
earth) a
procession of
wonders
huger than prove
our fears

were hopes: the moon
open
for you and close
will shy
wings of because;
each why

of star (afloat
on not
quite less than all
of time)
gives you skillful
his flame

so is your heart
alert,
of languages
there's none
but well she knows;
and can

perfectly speak
(snowflake
and rainbow mind
and soul
november and
april)

who younger than
begin
are, in the worlds move
in your
(and rest, my love)
honour

P.S. Please let me know if you'd like me to publish emailed & snail-mailed lists. Comments on this blog are public right now, so post gently, but I'd be delighted to get some feedback from any semi to fully literate readers. I cherish the bandwidth this blog takes up, and I'd like to think kindly of anyone who might post, too.