I received my acceptance letter to the North Bennet Street School Preservation Carpentry Program.  The question now is whether or not to accept.

About three weeks ago I roasted a whole chicken. While preparing the bird I excavated from its abdomen a small gauze bag containing the chicken’s heart, liver and neck and fired the liver in a hot skillet with some butter, Herbs de Provence (Quel dommage!), and to my astonishment it wasn’t half bad. This needed further exploration.

Fast forward to last Thursday. Kate was out and I decided that it was gross food night. On the way home I stopped at the supermarket and picked up a pint of fresh “young” chicken livers and a half dozen Duxbury oysters. The livers were dredged in flour, salt, pepper and tarragon then cooked in a medium hot pan with some corn oil and butter. As I bit into the first one there was a distinct and anxiety provoking feeling that I might be, in an instant, throwing up in my mouth. The half bottle of wine I’d consumed seemed to be making this first time slightly easier. Drinking tends to aid you in those tender moments of inexperience. One bite, two bites, three bites…”Wow. I’m really enjoying this.” I thought to myself.

After killing half the pint of livers and taking in my yearly quota of iron it was time to murder some South Shore bivalves. Normally a “real” New Englander like myself would have an oyster knife on hand but alas, I’ve yet to acquire one so a butter knife would have to do. My Dad later scolded me for not using a screw drive. I felt ashamed.

Anyhow, the first four opened easier than Paris Hilton’s legs but the fifth one was a prude. As good as a freshly shucked oyster is, a shard of the shell can ruin the experience so I was quick to run the clam, knife and my hand under some cold water to wash the chunks away.

At this point I had nearly three quarters of the bottle of white in my stomach. The wine was mingling nicely with the liver but it was an awkward situation as the liver was used to hanging with light beer and cheap whiskey. Conversation was cordial. Wine wanted to talk about Terry Gross’s interview with Natsuo Kirino but she knew Liver wouldn’t understand. Liver thought Wine was cute in a Martha Stewart kind of way but didn’t understand her big words and kept wondering if she might like to turn on the race. They sat quietly and wondered how they had ended up in the same place.

But I digress, back to the shucking. With the knife now wet and slicker than snot on a door knob I bore down on the hilt hoping that scientifically applied bruit force might convince this mollusk to embrace it’s fate and allow me entrance to its fleshy center. This oyster had other plans, he was an insurgent oyster.

With one last push I exerted my all and down the knife my tightly clenched fist raced. Down all the way past the serrated edge (why do flatware companies feel so compelled to put on serrated edges on butter knifes?). And that sinking feeling you get when cold steel races across, or through, your skin swept over me. I clenched my fist and then drip, drip, drip, blood fell into the sink.

“ASS HOLE!” I yelled.

In my hand staring back at me was a cut, deep, ugly, mangled and severe. Ok, fine, with respect to butter knife wounds, deep, ugly, mangled and severe.

If this oyster was not going to cooperate I had other means of persuasion. He begged for a second chance before I placed him and his friend into a hot pan of butter and garlic. They didn’t last long. In a matter of minutes their shells lay agape, fixed in a dead stare at the exhaust fan.

Shortly thereafter the two lifeless oyster corpses hurdled down my neck and landed with a smack on the bridge table Wine had set up. She cried. Liver comforted her in the only way he knew how. His breath was rich and sweat with bourbon. He knew they came from different places but he hugged her tight and ran his stubby fingers through her hair. Slowly she calmed. His eyes were wide. It was then she new he was scared too.

Firstly I’d like to recognize Ze Frank for being arguably the most amusing video blogger on the net. For the uninitiated I strongly suggest you visit his site and check out the videos. Sadly, his 1 year v-blog experiment, or “internship” as he calls it, ends in two weeks. So get while the gettin’s hot.

I’m considering a major career change. Currently I work as a structural engineer at VHB, which is a great company but I’m just not cut out for the office/corporate life, at least not in the traditional sense. So after being miserable for the better part of the last decade I finally decided to MOVE ON. In part that is that catalyst for this blog, moving on.

I’m considering a few options. Firstly, I’ve begun the application process for the preservation carpentry program at the North Bennet Street School here in Boston. After the two year program I’d have to skills required to work on old timber structures, such as homes, historic buildings, barns, etc. I’ve had a long time interest in this line of work and coupled with my engineering skills, I think it would be a nice fit.

Option two is Treadcrumbs.com. It’s a bit top secret at the moment but keep checking it to see the evolution. The sweetened condensed explanation is that it is a place for people to go share their adventures in the outdoors by supplementing the traditional blog with maps of their trips. GPS will play heavily into it.

Fact: The Delmonico steak from the Capital Grill is delicious.

Fact: Bistro 5 in West Medford is one of my favorite restaurants.

Lastly, if you haven’t heard, the markets are tanking today due in large part to China’s 9% market dive, Cheney’s near miss in Afghanistan, and Alan G.’s comments from Hong Kong that the US may be headed for a recession. WTF Al, WTF Taliban!

Update 4:30 pm: That loud crashing noise you heard today was the Dow tumbling over 500 points. After a slight recovery (if it could be called that) the Dow finished down 415 points. Ouch! I suppose we should expect more selling tomorrow.