The other night I took my mom out to see Legend of Zorro. This is because I am a Good Son. And because we both liked the previous movie, Mask of Zorro.

And because my mom has not been to a movie theater in fifteen years.

I said, "Mom, forget that old three-screen theater we went to when I was a kid! Now they have a new six-screen theater with surround sound!" She said, "What's surround sound?" I just shook my head. "Look, it doesn't have water damage on the ceiling tiles, the light bulbs are all working, and there aren't two decades worth of chewing gum, popcorn, and Goobers stuck to the floor." "Oh, that sounds good!" she said.

The movie was very good. Lots of fun; a great family film.

In other news, I've finished my Christmas shopping! Well, most of it. There's only one item left, and I'm waiting to see if I can score a sale before I buy it. I believe in doing my Christmas shopping early; that way, if I see something cool on sale, I'll have the money to buy it for myself! (And you thought I was being selfless!) No, really, my family is awfully hard to buy for. They aren't very materialistic, so I have to think hard about what I'm going to get them. I sometimes plan gifts a good three years in advance, just in case nothing interesting comes up I think they would be interested in.

Last Saturday, I went camera-shopping with my mom. I've asked for a digital camera for Christmas; I want to be able to put photos up on this blog. We examined various models, and we found one that we both agreed would be good for my purposes. Maybe in a month or so, I'll start photoblogging!

All right. So: The reality is that I have no idea how to eat crab legs.

On impulse, I decide to eat at the local Chinese buffet last night. I don't normally eat there on Fridays, because they have crab legs on the all-you-can-eat buffet and charge $3 more for them. I'm already paying a good chunk for the buffet, and there's so much great stuff on there already, I just don't see how I can eat enough crab legs to justify the expense.

Last night, though, I really, really wanted Chinese food. And I realized I'd never had crab legs before. So I said to myself, "Self, live a little! Try the crab legs. It'll be an experience!" So, when my self starts talking to me in that tone of voice, I sit up and take notice.

Well, there's a basket of some strange eating utensils next to the crab legs. I've never seen them before, and I've eaten here often, so I assume they're for the crab legs. I pick one up. It looks kind of like a nutcracker. I take it and turn to the crab legs. They're in a big tub of water, so I grab a few legs and drop them on my plate next to the Sesame Chicken, then head off to my table for my latest culinary adventure.

I pick up the nutcracker and prepare to commence to cracking when I discover the first rule of crab legs: the smaller the crab leg, the harder it is to crack. No, really! In fact, one of the crab legs was so small, the nutcracker shut completely around the leg without denting the shell.

I examine the crabcracker closely, and notice that there're a couple of bumps, one on either side, dividing the "large" part of the cracker from the "small" part of the cracker. "Aha!" I think. "I'll use these bumps to crack open the shell!" I start applying leverage, only to realize three important points: One, the bumps are rounded and (probably) not meant to be used as I am using them, so they keep slipping off the wet crabshell. Two, the crab leg is slippery when wet, and these were just taken out of a tub of water. Three, wet crab juice is running down my arm and getting my sleeve wet.

I finally succeeded in breaking open a larger leg. Ah, tasty, succulent morsel! So, what now? Do I use my fork? My fingers? All right, so this isn't a five-star restaurant; I'm gonna use my fingers. As I start rooting around inside the cracked crabshell, I reflect that this could solve my worst problem with Chinese buffets -- wasting enough time that I get hungry again and can go back for thirds and fourths. I mean, it looks bad just to sit there reading a book for a couple of hours. The waitress starts hovering around, asking pointedly if I need anything, and then the manager comes out to have a "friendly chat" with me. But if I'm fiddling around with a crabshell, it looks like I'm just enjoying my dinner! And as fast as I'm going, it looks like it will be a couple of hours before I get to my crabmeat.

Eventually I get a bite about as big as my thumb. It's okay, I guess. It's definitely tender, and has that seafood flavor without that overwhelming "fishy" taste. It's just not worth all the effort. And there are plenty of other excellent dishes that don't require nearly as much work.

General Tso, for instance. He doesn't put up much of a fight. (I think he's a little chicken.)

Last week I was rummaging through some old paperbacks (on sale for a quarter each) at the local GED/Learning Center. I picked out a few novels and paid the teacher that was there. He struck up a conversation with me:

"Do you go to [local college]?"
"Yes, I'm at [local college where I teach]."
"Oh, what's your major?"

At this point I grimace, because I realize that, once again, I have been mistaken for a student. I don't like to correct people, because 1) it sometimes embarrasses them, and 2) it prolongs the conversation (which I'm usually politely trying to leave). Unfortunately, this time it had (I suspect) the opposite effect.

"I teach these students that are trying to get their GED's. Their writing is atrocious! Look at this page." He shows me a page of student writing. "I have to go through and mark all the errors. Do you think you could do that? Put in all the commas and apostrophes and such?"

I don't know if he's advising me not to be an English major or what. "Uhh . . . maybe," I say glancing back at the door. All I really want to do is go home and read the books I just bought.

"I'm always snowed under with these papers, and it takes a long time to mark them. It would really be great if you or some of your friends could volunteer to mark some of the papers."

I want to burst out laughing. So that's what this is about! He wants to have fun teaching and rope someone else into doing all the legwork for him! I envision the 250 pages of student essays back in my office I have yet to grade, and I want to say, "Buddy, ain't no way I'm doing your dirty work for you." But, polite person that I am, I just say, "Uh, we'll see. I'll mention it to my friends. Bye!" and hurry out.

I might have a solution to this problem. I've just had business cards made up. They're very nice -- black & white, to be sure, but with an attractive logo of the college on them with my office contact information. Now, when I introduce myself, I can just take a card from my wallet and give it to them.

Plus, my 10th anniversary class reunion is coming up in a couple of weeks, and I want to show off.

Halloween was fun. I got several bags of candy at Wal-Mart the next day for half price. White chocolate Reese's cups, mmmm!

Yesterday a friend of mine gave me an early Christmas present: one of Todd McFarlane's Dragon miniatures. It's the Komodo Clan Dragon, and it's awesome!

Tonight was open dorm at one of my student's trailers, so I was invited down for dinner and a showing of Titan A.E.. The movie was mediocre. The food was good. The friends were great.