Roasted Brussels Sprouts with Walnuts and Pecorino

No more wrinkled noses when people hear you’re serving Brussels Sprouts — they’ll be begging for more. Properly cooked Brussels Sprouts are sweet, nutty, and full of good flavor. In this preparation, from Franny’s restaurant in Brooklyn, they’re also anointed with olive oil and given a good roasting. The walnuts and pecorino are perfect counterpoints. Look for fresh Brussels Sprouts on their long stalks at the farmers’ market.

Recipe By: BEST AMERICAN RECIPES 2005-2006, page 183
Serving Size: 6
Cuisine: Uncategorized
Main Ingredient: Brussels Sprouts
Categories: Roast, Vegetables, Side Dish

-= Ingredients =-
1/2 cup Walnuts
18 each Brussels Sprouts ; cut in half
to taste Extra virgin olive oil
to taste Salt and pepper
squeeze Fresh lemon juice
to taste Pecorino Toscano ; optional, for topping

-= Instructions =-
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Toast the walnuts on a rimmed baking sheet for about 10 minutes, or until they smell toasty; set aside. Crumble them when they’re cool enough to handle.

Turn the oven up to 450 degrees.

Toss the Brussels Sprouts in a bowl with enough olive oil to coat each sprout, 2 to 3 tablespoons. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

Arrange the sprouts in a single layer on the baking sheet and roast for about 20 minutes or until fork-tender and some of the leaves have become crunchy.

Let the sprouts cool on the baking sheet, then toss in a large bowl with the walnuts. Drizzle liberally with olive oil, add a squeeze of lemon, and season with salt and pepper. Shave some of the pecorino on top and serve warm.

** This recipe can be pasted into BigOven without retyping. BigOven.com ID= 162285 **
** Easy recipe software. Try it free at: http://www.bigoven.com **

Anne — the good news is this — it’s NEVER TOO LATE to begin/continue the healing process. Even though it may have been a while ago that you had a loss, and just as those feelings are within you every day, they CAN BE HEALED.

Now, that being said, how to proceed? Before you read on, please understand that I take a *behaviorist* methodology when approaching healing of the heart. This may not work for you (in fact, it’s been a considerable failure for my housemate. His path is completely different).


My recommendation is to start simply. Get a notebook and a good pen and WRITE, Anne, WRITE. Keep a journal… You have to be careful that the journal doesn’t devolve into a simple recitation of the days’ events. There is a certain amount of that, but try for ‘higher level’ writing as much as possible. Don’t use the paper for anything other than a journal, and keep it private. No one should read what you write in there. As you sit down to write your first time, plan to spend a fair amount of time (a few hours or so) writing. There’s lots to write about the first time. I’ve been writing since I moved into the house, and probably write 4-5 nights a week, sometimes more as I feel I need to.

Another thing I recommend… Pick up a book called HOW TO SURVIVE THE LOSS OF A LOVE by Melba Colgrove, Harold Bloomfield, and Peter McWilliams. For me, this book was a roadmap toward healing, and it was very valuable.

Okay. So now you have some of the tools. Now it’s time to assess your situation and find out the areas that you want to refine. Notice I said ‘refine’. Not ‘fix’ or anything. You’re already a good person, Anne. That’s not the question. What you’re seeking is a refinement of those qualities that are already there, not the drastic reformation or re-creation of yourself. An analogy that works for me is that of ’sanding’ — a piece of wood by itself is good, and it may take a little bit of ’sanding’ to make it just the way you want… That’s kinda the feel here.

Spend some time analyzing your behavior. Be as objective as you can be. Think about behavior that either builds yourself up, or holds yourself back. Some of the more common behaviors folks exhibit are withdrawing from society (not going out or _making the effort_ to go out with friends, family), self-denial (not doing things that will comfort oneself in the time of loss), loss of feelings of self-worth (”No one would want me. I’m no good.”, etc.), timidity when approaching a new relationship/dating, and some self-destructive behavior (not eating, not taking care of oneself, etc.). These behaviors must be

identified,
acknowledged,
modified, then
understood and minimized for future experiences.

Take an honest, objective look at the relationship, and determine what role you played in the relationship, both the positive aspects and the negative. Avoid beating yourself up (”It was all my fault!”), or not taking responsibility (”It was all his fault!”). An honest assessment will allow you to identify your contributions to the relationship. Once you know what they were (knowing is half the battle!), you can make strides to refine them.

[BREAK]

Instead of allowing counterproductive behaviors, you must CONSCIOUSLY strive to make yourself move forward. A ready example is right after a relationship ends, I tend to feel lethargic and draggy, desiring nothing more than to sit on my bed or ‘mope’ around the house all day. During my divorce, I became aware of that tendancy — I wanted to miss a lot of work.

Here is a look at my thought process during my divorce:

I’m sad today. I don’t want to go to work.
Well, if I miss a lot of work, you run the risk of adding another bad situation (loss of a job) to a bad situation (divorce). Heaven knows my plate is full right now.
There is no need to complicate matters any more!

I was aware that at certain (at first, infrequent) times during my work day, I’d become absorbed in my work and find myself NOT thinking about my personal situation.
I knew that it was a good thing to give my brain a ‘break’ from constantly pondering my personal situation.
Therefore, I threw myself into my job - I’d get there early, stay late, volunteer for extra duties, etc.

In that way, I gave myself a break from the constant pondering of the situation, improved my situation at work, and avoided heaping a bad situation on top of a bad situation. My coworkers would probably attest to my excellent ‘work ethic’ during that time… Little did they know that by doing extra work (and making many of them look bad!), I was helping myself heal!

Now, it’s important to know that I did the above as a COMPONENT of the healing process, NOT as the entire healing process. We’ve all seen people who _only_ throw themselves into their job and don’t work on themselves during times of loss. This is an incomplete approach, and yields incomplete (and unsatisfactory) results.

Phew! I’ve suddenly realized that I’ve been writing on this topic for some time here — this may be a lot to swallow, so I’ll stop for now. Also, I guess you know what “Cathedral of the Heart” is about now!

More later…

Here are some quotes from High Fidelity:

• …and my friends don’t seem to be friends at all but people whose phone numbers I haven’t lost. 
• …I have a terrible, chilling, bone-shaking experience: the most pathetic man in the world gives me a smile of recognition. The Most Pathetic Man In The World has huge horn-rimmed spectacles and buckteeth; he’s wearing a dirty fawn anorak and brown cord trousers which have been rubbed smooth at the knee; he, too, is being taken to see Howard’s End by his parents, despite the fact that he’s in his late twenties. And he gives me this terrible little smile because he has spotted a kindred spirit.
  
• “Have you slept with him yet?” and it’s all over.
  “Is that why you wanted to see me?”
  “I guess.”
  “Oh, Rob.”
  I just want to ask the question again, straightaway; I want an answer, I don’t want “Oh, Rob,” and a pitying stare.
  “What do you want me to say?”
  “I want you to say that you haven’t, and for your answer to be the truth.”
  “I can’t do that.” She can’t look at me when she’s saying it, either.
• It must be hard for parents, I guess, when they see that things aren’t working out for their children, but that their children can no longer be reached by the old parental routes, because those roads are now much too long.
• When I nestled into Laura’s back in the night, I was afraid because I didn’t want to lose her, and we always lose someone, or they lose us, in the end. I’d rather not take the risk. I’d rather not come home from work one day in ten or twenty years’ time to be faced with a pale, frightened woman saying that she’d been shitting blood — I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but this is what happens to people — and then we go to the doctor and then the doctor says it’s inoperable and then . . . . I wouldn’t have the guts, you know? I’d probably just take off, live in a different city under an assumed name, and Laura would check in to the hospital to die and they’d say, “Isn’t your partner coming to visit?” and she’d say, “No, when he found out about the cancer he left me.” Great guy! “Cancer? Sorry, that’s not for me! I don’t like it!” Best not to put yourself in that position. Best leave it all alone. 
• I‘ve been thinking with my guts since I was fourteen years old, and frankly speaking, between you and me, I have come to the conclusion that my guts have shit for brains.

 

Compliments of Progressive Graphics, a division of BowTie Productions.

Like this? Hate this? Tell me all about it.

NOTE: There does seem to be some confusion about what pipe is safest to use. Finding pressure rated ABS pipe is nearly impossible in many areas. Therefore, most spud shooters are constructed of PVC pipe. If you stick to conventional propellants (such as hairspray) and do not use oxidizers, PVC should perform with adequate safety.

BILL OF MATERIAL
1 10 foot piece of 2 inch diameter schedule 40 ABS or PVC pipe
1 10 foot piece of 3 inch diameter schedule 40 ABS or PVC pipe
1 3 inch threaded (one side) coupling
1 3 inch threaded end-cap 1 3 inch to 2 inch reducing bushing
1 2 inch female threaded coupling
1 2 inch male threaded coupling
1 can PVC primer (see NOTE, below)
1 can PVC glue
Sandpaper (see NOTE, below)
Epoxy
1 sparker - I use and recommend an igniter for a gas grill. You can get these at any hardware store.
About 4-6 inches of stiff, solid copper wire

CONSTRUCTION
NOTE: When gluing PVC, it is STRONGLY recommended that you first sand the areas to be glued to ‘roughen’ them. Then use a liberal application of PVC Primer to prepare the area and then glue according to the directions.

STEP 1 - Cut the combustion chamber. Cut a 14 inch section of the 3 inch diameter pipe. You don’t need the rest of the 10 foot length, so save it for future bazookas, or make one with a couple of buddies to split the cost.

STEP 2 - Glue the threaded coupling to the other end of the combustion chamber (using the slip-joint side, obviously) make sure the glue doesn’t run into the threads. This is the rear end of the combustion chamber.

STEP 3 - Glue the 3 inch to 2 inch reducing bushing into one end of the 14 inch combustion chamber. Make sure the joints are clean first and be liberal with the glue. This is the front end of the combustion chamber.

STEP 4 - Prepare the Ross-connector joint (so-named for its inventor, Tim Ross, who modified his gun so he could break it down and pack it in his Miata’s trunk). Cut a 3 inch length of the 2 inch pipe. Glue this into the end of the reducing bushing you’ve previously glued to the combustion chamber.

STEP 5 - Glue the 2 inch male threaded coupling to the other end of the short piece of pipe in STEP 4.

STEP 6 - Cut the “barrel”. Cut a 36 inch (3 foot) length of the 2 inch pipe.

STEP 7 - Glue the 2 inch female threaded coupling to one end of the 36 inch length of 2 inch pipe. This is the joint that allows the gun to be dismantled for storage in your Miata’s trunk.

STEP 8 - Using a file, taper the “muzzle” for the last half an inch on the outside. This will serve to cut the potato as it’s rammed in.

STEP 9 - Prepare the firing mechanism. There are two different ways to do prepare the firing mechanism. I’ll tell you the EASY way first, and then tell you what _I_ use.

THE EASY WAY: You’ll mount the sparker inside the end cap. Drill a hole dead center in the ABS end cap of a diameter to take the shaft of the sparker. Mount the sparker inside the end cap and secure using the epoxy.

MY WAY: First, strip the rubber coating from the last inch or so of the stiff copper wire. Sharpen the exposed end of the wire (if the end is sharpened, the spark is better). Attach the wire to the sparker so that the exposed, sharpened end is about 3/4 inch from the ‘business end’ of the sparker. To attach the wire to the sparker, I used lots of black tape and some epoxy. Next, drill a hole in the sloped part of the 3 inch to 2 inch reducing bushing of a diameter to take the shaft of the sparker. Insert the sparker & wire assembly into the hole and secure using the epoxy.

STEP 10 - Make a ram rod. I used surplus 1/2 inch PVC pipe, 4 feet in length. A broom handle, piece of dowel, etc., will do. Measure and make a mark about 2 feet 8 inches down the ram rod.

STEP 11 - Make sure the glue has “cured”. It is recommended that you wait overnight before firing.

TO FIRE
The Basics: Load ‘ammo’, add propellant, fire!
The Specifics: Remove end cap. Ram a potato from the muzzle end. The tapered end of the muzzle will cut the potato to size. Make sure it has a good seal as you ram it down with the ramrod. Ram to the mark you made. I’ve found most misfires happen when there are gaps between the potato and the barrel where gasses can escape. Spray 2 - 5 seconds worth of cheap hair spray (White Rain, Aqua Net). I’d use an “unscented” one if you can, or the gun stinks after a few shots! Start at 2 seconds and build up! After spraying the hair spray, quickly screw in the end cap. One push of the sparker sends the spud skyward!

SAFETY
Once you shoot this, you’ll see the potato comes out with enough force, you wouldn’t want to be on the wrong side! Usual safety about pointing the muzzle etc. still apply. This is for fun only. I don’t make any guarantee you won’t blow your arse off. (You may laugh it off, however). Personally, I’d never use acetylene, starting fluid (ether), black powder, lighter fluid, gasoline etc. as a propellant, but you may not value your body parts as much. You can get 3 shots off a big spud. Partially baked ones are fun - they seal in better and shoot farther, but they do break up and the barrel is a mess to clean up afterwards.

CLEAN UP
Soap and water. Push a small towel through (here’s a case where it’s OK to clean from the muzzle). I’ve been shooting mine since 12/94 and have been having a barrel of laughs. The spuds will go nearly 200 yards! I plan to make the “220 swift” variety by coupling a one inch barrel to the three inch combustion chamber. I wonder if you put the barrels on threaded couplings you could have interchangeable barrels. Sort of an “Idaho Contender”.

OTHER TRICKS
* Ram in a cardboard container from McDonalds from a large order of fries. Leave the fries in the container. The cardboard serves as wadding and voila! - a shotgun!

* Use something non-flamable as ‘wadding’ (such as a cut out circle of Tyvek (you know, that hard-to-tear stuff that some mailing envelopes are made out of), and then load confetti, a spongy ball, or whatever comes to mind.

* Tim Ross found some CLEAR PVC for the combustion chamber. He reports that there is a really nice pulse of blue light (fire!) when the spud gun is fired.

WARNING
Use at your own risk. If you’re not sure what you’re doing, DO NOT DO IT.

Wear protective goggles and gloves.

These things have a tendency to attract every 8-12 year old kid in the neighborhood.

Be safe and have fun!

The dinner was interesting. When Holly called and asked if we could get together, I told her no, that I didn’t think it was necessary. She talked me into it, and I must admit, I’m glad she did. I think that one thing that made it easier for me to agree to dinner was something that Holly did that showed me that she was beginning her process of healing. In the middle of our conversation, right in the middle in fact — it came from out of the blue, Holly apologized to me. She said, “Andy, I’m sorry.” I said, “What?” and she repeated it. “What for?,” I asked. And she replied, “I didn’t handle it very well with you,” and I knew that she was aplogizing for many things in those words, everything from the marriage to the breakup to the divorce, and more. I accepted her apology, and then told her that I’d forgiven her a long time ago and that I didn’t need to hear those words from her, but understood and supported her need to say them to me. I didn’t say it in a bitter way, but just as someone who’d moved on, sorta like if an adult came to you and apologized to you for breaking your favorite toy when you were 5 years old — it’s nice, but it just doesn’t affect you anymore.


During that, our first phone conversation in three years, I thanked Holly for everything that had happened between us. I told her that while what we went though was indescribibly painful, I was glad for the person I’d become through the experience, and that I would go though it again to become the person I am now.

Holly was staying with some friends, and she came over to the house at about 4:30 or so, with the rest of our dinner companions to meet us there around 5:00. She wanted to see me, the place, and Stanley. Right around 4:15 or so, I began to get really nervous. Pacing, sitting, standing, etc. When she arrived at 4:30, though, it felt ‘better’ than I thought it would. I gave her a hug, and she was amazed at how long my hair has gotten, etc. We wandered around the house for a few mintues, pointing out changes that I’ve made and want to make. All the while, Holly was gabbing on nervously.

Shortly, the rest arrived, and we were off to dinner at a place out in Milford (I think) called THE MELTING POT. It’s a fondue restaurant. I have to say, fondue restaurants are not my favorite. They’re expensive, they’re hot, and you have to cook your own food. Nothing there says “This is a good dining experience” to me!

ANYhow, the six of us sat down, and Holly was very quick to point out to the waitier that the other two couples were married, and that she and I are DIVORCED. (I think I saw the waitier breathe a sigh of relief when he heard that news — apparently, his life was not complete without that information.) I commented to Holly how odd it was that she’d feel the need to tell him that.

Dinner was fun; full of laughter and good company.

One funny observation about dinner: I was with my ex-wife, my divorce lawyer, my therapist, Holly’s therapist, and my accountant (and their spouses). When I noticed that, I got a laugh out of it, and then everyone else laughed when I told them.

At dinner, Holly sometimes referred to our marriage or divorce in a sarcastic tone or with a wise-crack of some kind. I would just look at her and smile; I’d been there before. I remember one accidentally-theraputic night during my process. I was an officer in a local computer club. Each monthly meeting, the officers gave a report. This particular month, I don’t remember which month it was, I got up and gave about 15-20 minutes about divorce and my feelings about it. It was a gushing forth of anger and frustration, bitterness and hurt, all delivered with my wry sense of humor. It was very healing for me, but I can imagine the poor club members, sitting in the darkened room, eyes wide, aghast at what I was saying but powerless (or unwilling) to get up to leave and possibly interrupt my process. I’m embarrassed about that, but recognize that it was a step, just placed a little poorly. It was with that in mind that I didn’t stop Holly for saying those things.

Holly and I rode home together, and had a chance to talk for a little bit about our lives, and where we are and where we want to be heading. She’s happy with her life, but I could tell that she was perhaps a little jealous about my progress. When we got back to my house, I gave her another hug and told her that it was nice to see her, and that it went easier than I thought it would. She agreed and then asked if we could get together sometime. I knew she meant as a date, so I said, “Nope. I’d love to see you when you’re in town, but please don’t make any special trips for me.” She nodded wistfully and that was that.

The thing about that entire encounter, (this being the part where I wax somewhat philosophical. You may just want to ignore the rest.) was that it felt like I was an AFTER looking at a BEFORE. I feel that is a correct assesment; Holly admitted that she’d repressed everything, and had only recently began to deal with the reality of divorce — three years later. Better late than never.

One thing about seeing her was my feelings of “Am I ready to see my ex?”, “Have I healed enough that this won’t be damaging to me?”, etc. Well, I am very happy to report that I came through it with flying colors. I did better with the entire situation than I feared I might. At no point in the evening was I bitter, angry, or even sarcastic toward Holly or about what I’d gone through. Those feelings just weren’t there, and I am proud of myself for taking an aggressive, directed route toward healing myself through that process.

It was a definate growing experience.

——————————————————————————–

Go to part 2.

> Ok… being that I am away at college and NOT where I’d love to be (in my
> hometown of Cincy) for every concert and get together… I’m REALLY confused!
> Can someone please (in modern English and full sentences) explain what
> happened at the Monk concert?!?!?
>
Hey Elissa… Let’s see… The Monk concert. Yes… Shelly, myself, Allison (lurker on the list, I think Hi Allison!), and one of Allison’s friends met for dinner at Daniel’s Pub. Loverly time had by all. Just about 8:00, I was fixing to stroll up to Sudsy’s when in walks Dug of Snoop Duggy Dug fame. Chatted with him for a moment, off I went while they all sat a shot the sh*t. I wandered up to Sudsy’s where I met Ric and chatted with him for a few minutes (I’d offered to work the door for him). Got settled in. Drank some beer, chatted with Kerry (the sound guy, and a neighbor) when he arrived. Sooner or later, everyone started arriving. Mike Helm opened and did a great job, just him and his guitar (and a wonderful song called “This is my Pop Song” (which, sadly, does not appear on the CD I bought)). After a proper interval, Monk takes the stage and blows us all away.


Of course, there is more… The cast of characters (names changed to protect the guilty):
* A suave, smooth, handsome hunk of man. We’ll call him DREW.
* A saucy, crazy, dancing woman. We’ll call her SHELLY
* A skinny, gangly, under-age, who doesn’t know ‘when to say when’ who loves Monk. Let’s call him DUG.
* A quiet, soft-spoken, music-loving guy with a bullet through his ear (no lie). Let’s call him SCOTT.
* The Tour Merchandise Guy, who needs no introduction. Let’s call him TODD.
* The soundman and my neighbor. We’ll name him KERRY.
Finally,
* A drunk, drunk, drunk, little hotten-tot who was celebrating her 23d birthday. Let’s call her LEE ANN. Did I mention that she was drunk?

Okay… Cast is set. Here’s the starting positions. In the back row sits, in order from left to right, Lee Ann (she’s not too drunk yet, and looking quite fetching in her “braces and boots”, as E. John might say), Scott, Drew, Dug. In front of that crew sits Kerry and Todd.

Drew spies Lee Ann, and continually and unashamedly crowds Scott’s personal space trying to hit on her, which, I think we’ll all agree, he did QUITE well, being the suave, smooth operator that he is.

Scott, being stuck between Drew and Lee Ann sits observing The Skill… The Art… That is the work of Mack-Daddy Drew. Well, before long, Scott is murmuring things in my (err… DREW’s) ear about how he’s blowing it. Great support from Scott. Not to miss out on a great chance to rib me (err.. DREW), Todd and Kerry chime in with “You’re going down in the third (round)”, and “Give him the standing eight — he’s a nice guy”. Etc. (Admittedly, to these untrained novices, it may have appeared that Drew was ‘going down in flames’, when in fact Drew had skillfully assessed the situation with our little drunk gal, and was in the process of ‘letting her down gently’; disengaging the little filly who had not passed Drew’s muster.)

Well, Drew, being the worldly, sophisticated chap that he is, recognizes that Lee Ann, while filling out her sweater quite nicely, lacks, shall we say, some of the finer qualities that are desirable in a companion, so Drew peels off the chase and continues on his merry way.

Meanwhile, Dug has been consuming massive amounts of cheap domestic beep. Now, drinking a lot of beer isn’t necessarily a bad thing, mind you, but when you’re a little slip of a kid like Dug is, a little beer goes a long way. If I had to guess, I’d imagine that Dug is probably 45 pounds wringing wet… Beer is bound to pickle his little addled brain, already taxed by a heavy college course-load.

Well, you can see that we’ve got on our hands a drunk hotten-tot (Lee Ann), and a drunk, horney (so far, could be nearly ANYONE in the bar!), underage (still plenty of folks fit that category), college student (ditto), named Dug (aha!). They were destined to meet. And meet they did…

Drew moved up toward the front of the audience area to stand with Shelly, who was dancing her feet off, all the while sucking down incredible amounts of some foul-smelling vile brown liquor from giant plastic cups. Behind me (err… Drew) stands Dug, and Lee Ann flits about like crazy, eventually settling down somewhere behind Drew and Dug. Scott remarked that he thought that every man in the bar had touched Lee Ann’s spankybutt that night. Well, when Dug’s turn with her spankybutt rolled around, he was MACK DADDY (all caps), and put the moves on her _big time_, despite Drew’s repeated whispered warnings to Lee Ann that Dug was only 14 years old (slight exaggeration on Drew’s part. Very slight).

Apparently, Lee Ann got confused with Drew’s charming good looks and Dug’s feeble attempts to seduce her, and in aiming a kiss at Drew (obviously), failed completely to hit that mark, landing the alcohol-sodden lips instead on young Dug, who happened to be standing in close proximity.

Once Drew picked his jaw up off the floor (shocked that a youth happened to intercept a kiss that was CLEARLY aimed at Drew), I (err…) watched as Lee Ann drifted… no, toddled… no, STAGGERED to the back of the place and proceeded to empty her stomach of all its contents. An amazing amount of contents it was too. All within a few short minutes of being lip-locked by Dear-Young-Duggie. If one puts two and two together, the obvious conclusion is that the effect of Dug’s youthful attempts with Lee Ann were too much for her delicate constitution, and her body reacted by trying to wash any trace of Duggy-ness from her body, using stomach acid.

Well, Drew stood by nobly (he knows no other way) and listened to the cruel taunts and jeers of Shelly, and a few other notables, suggesting, no accusing him of going down in flames, which wasn’t the case at all…

Hopefully, this tale will help you understand the goings-on of that fateful night. Remember that all the names have been changed to protect the guilty…

This story brought to you by SHADOWY MEN ON A SHADOWY PLANET and the letter “M”.

Tada!

Drew’s academic, professional, and personal interests are diverse and multidisciplinary. He studied at Northern Kentucky University and graduated with a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree in Theatre Performance/Directing emphasis in 1991. Theatre, be it on-stage, as a director, or as technical help, has always been a passion for Drew.

Drew was a collaborator on a radio show, called SMACK IT CINCINNATI!. The wildly-popular show ran during the summers on WAIF 88.3FM for three seasons.

Another project for Drew was to co-produce a Tribute CD for Cincinnati-based band Over the Rhine. Working with his cohort, Bruce Lachey, Drew created artwork, contributed a track, and handled the “behind the scenes” work for this project which has raised well over $1000 for Cincinnati Community Shares, a local charity. Drew now works as part of the Over The Rhine team, managing their online forums and providing technical support for them.

Last updated: 23-February-2002

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“I met a new girl at a barbecue, very pretty, a blonde I think. I don’t know, her hair was on fire, and all she talked about was herself. You know these kind of girls: ‘I’m hot. I’m on fire. Me, me, me.’ You know. ‘Help me, put me out.’ Come on, could we talk about me just a little bit?” — Garry Shandling