Billy, that was great grandma's dish you just broke. It's been in our family for decades. What were you doing in that cabinet? GG served beef stew in that dish. Our family had no money when we came from the old country. We had beef stew seven days a week. That woman sacrificed day and night.
Her brother Augustus got very ill and there was no money to give him a proper burial. There were rumors, but I prefer to think he was buried somewhere.
GG's recipe was a well guarded secret. When the family finally got jobs and began making some money, they were able to celebrate a normal Thanksgiving with a big turkey. Sadly, right about that time your great Aunt Tracey passed on. There are sick people out there, Billy, monsters who spread their disgusting rumors, just like what happened after Augustus died.
GG was a great woman who did whatever she had to to keep the family intact. Perhaps the stuffing had a unique taste, but that only proves what a terrific cook she was. Now let me see if I can glue this dish back together. And please stop staring at me like that.
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Monday, December 26, 2011
Eggnog
As a diabetic, I'm not supposed to have eggnog. Too much sugar. But how do you make it through the holidays without at least one glass? The problem is stopping at one. I know they've come up with eggnog ice cream and probably eggnog coffee. I'm hoping for eggnog toothpaste, gravy, soup, stuffing, stew, deodorant, moisturizer, body lotion, pizza topping, tile spray, whipped cream--you get the idea.
Another item probably not good for you that you can't stop eating is Wasabi almonds. I'm not sure if Wasabi is a country or something researchers created. They're hot and salty and cause great thirst, but once you've had them you never go back to smoked almonds.
Unsalted saltines are light as marshmallows, easily devoured by the dozen. It feels like you're crunching air, unlike peanut butter crackers, which are never actually digested. They just set up a table and play cards in your small intestine for years.
There are certain people on TV like Chelsea Handler you know you shouldn't be watching because they supply no intellectual nutrition, but you're too weak to stop. The hope is someday she'll snap and flash the audience. I just pray I'm not sipping eggnog when it happens. Spillage of that elixir would be a tragedy.
Another item probably not good for you that you can't stop eating is Wasabi almonds. I'm not sure if Wasabi is a country or something researchers created. They're hot and salty and cause great thirst, but once you've had them you never go back to smoked almonds.
Unsalted saltines are light as marshmallows, easily devoured by the dozen. It feels like you're crunching air, unlike peanut butter crackers, which are never actually digested. They just set up a table and play cards in your small intestine for years.
There are certain people on TV like Chelsea Handler you know you shouldn't be watching because they supply no intellectual nutrition, but you're too weak to stop. The hope is someday she'll snap and flash the audience. I just pray I'm not sipping eggnog when it happens. Spillage of that elixir would be a tragedy.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
My Lesson
I've given up trying to read women. I will never grasp their subtext. Even the intellectuals give you little hint of what's really going on with them. But the quiet ones who refuse to volunteer anything, who just sit there staring at nothing, are impossible to analyze.
Sometimes you're foolish enough to believe you have a bead on their mood or attitude. Then you send a perfectly benign email (I don't text) and wait for a response that will never come. Then you backtrack and go over every word you said in every conversation dating back three years wondering what f aux pas you've committed. Women who laugh easily and make you think they are comfortable in your presence, then snub you out of the blue are creatures put here by a sadistic deity. At least if there was an argument, a reason for their behavior can be established.
Maybe these women suffer from a low level form of autism that hasn't been named yet. Or lack Vitamin D. Detached, indifferent, aloof, whatever the label, after awhile you wonder if it's worth it. Maybe sticking with older, gregarious types who never shut up is the way to go. No mystery there. But a continuing effort to understand and accommodate these ladies is taking too much time away from my stomach crunches. I've learned my lesson. This time I mean it.
Sometimes you're foolish enough to believe you have a bead on their mood or attitude. Then you send a perfectly benign email (I don't text) and wait for a response that will never come. Then you backtrack and go over every word you said in every conversation dating back three years wondering what f aux pas you've committed. Women who laugh easily and make you think they are comfortable in your presence, then snub you out of the blue are creatures put here by a sadistic deity. At least if there was an argument, a reason for their behavior can be established.
Maybe these women suffer from a low level form of autism that hasn't been named yet. Or lack Vitamin D. Detached, indifferent, aloof, whatever the label, after awhile you wonder if it's worth it. Maybe sticking with older, gregarious types who never shut up is the way to go. No mystery there. But a continuing effort to understand and accommodate these ladies is taking too much time away from my stomach crunches. I've learned my lesson. This time I mean it.
Friday, December 23, 2011
Ellen
Why don't I like Ellen anymore? I used to, really. I got sucked into the energy, especially at the opening with all those women screaming. Her monologues were so so, but then she did her little shimmy dance up the aisle and her movements rippled through the audience, lending it a revivalist atmosphere.
I liked her haircut and toothy smile, her look of barely concealed bafflement when her guests said something strange. Always Ellen would bail them out with a one-liner. Yes, there were stupid contests, some involving celebrities making fools of themselves. And those phone calls to strangers were edgy in their unpredictability.
I suppose my attitude began to change when I sensed the screaming was out of control. I mean, after awhile those women would become apoplectic if Ellen coughed. It was like they were in on the joke and I wasn't. At some point enthusiasm becomes mindless and repetitive.
What really drove me away, however, was the plethora of gifts given to those in the studio. Every single show these mostly white, well off ladies were given something. It could be anything from a DVD to a gift card to Saks. On the surface, this is unbridled generosity. Underneath, is a tsunami of consumerism and materialism at a time when millions are starving, homeless, out of work. Christmas season was the worst display of sheer greed. The decibels increase as gift after gift is bestowed upon the anointed kneeling before their Goddess. A complete turnoff and that wouldn't change if it were men receiving this largess.
Harmless, you say. Stop being anal, you say. Well, all I know is at 4pm I am no longer in front of the TV. Instead, I'm sticking March of Dimes icons on my holiday cards. Or at least I plan to if I can just get the damn neighbors to cease caroling in front of my door. Screeching maniacs.
I liked her haircut and toothy smile, her look of barely concealed bafflement when her guests said something strange. Always Ellen would bail them out with a one-liner. Yes, there were stupid contests, some involving celebrities making fools of themselves. And those phone calls to strangers were edgy in their unpredictability.
I suppose my attitude began to change when I sensed the screaming was out of control. I mean, after awhile those women would become apoplectic if Ellen coughed. It was like they were in on the joke and I wasn't. At some point enthusiasm becomes mindless and repetitive.
What really drove me away, however, was the plethora of gifts given to those in the studio. Every single show these mostly white, well off ladies were given something. It could be anything from a DVD to a gift card to Saks. On the surface, this is unbridled generosity. Underneath, is a tsunami of consumerism and materialism at a time when millions are starving, homeless, out of work. Christmas season was the worst display of sheer greed. The decibels increase as gift after gift is bestowed upon the anointed kneeling before their Goddess. A complete turnoff and that wouldn't change if it were men receiving this largess.
Harmless, you say. Stop being anal, you say. Well, all I know is at 4pm I am no longer in front of the TV. Instead, I'm sticking March of Dimes icons on my holiday cards. Or at least I plan to if I can just get the damn neighbors to cease caroling in front of my door. Screeching maniacs.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Crush
I guess you reach a point where you don't get crushes anymore. Maybe it's aging or too much information about a person. Having a crush is synonymous with youth. I had a crush on my high school English teacher, an Audrey Hepburn type, very sophisticated. She married before I graduated, but then got divorced. In my dreams I thought I had a shot as a college student. I imagined waltzing in off the street wearing my Rutgers sweatshirt, escorting her out for coffee right after her last class. I remember she asked for a word to fit a definition she gave and for some reason I piped up with 'subservient'. She was stunned. After that I think she viewed me as being secretly much smarter than I had shown before.
I continued to have crushes on women I barely knew from afar. Celebrities? Barbara Hershey, Tuesday Weld, Sue Lyon, Michelle Phillips, Valerie Bertinelli, Ingrid Bergman, who was middle aged, but she was still Ingrid. Grace Kelly was too intimidating. The young Sally Field with that pert little nose. Others, many others.
Of course, one can't speak of these things with friends. Private crushes are so fragile.
These days I'm embarrassed to admit I sort of have a crush on Lauren Graham.Maybe I just loved her character in Gilmore Girls. I haven't been watching her new show Parenthood, so I guess I'm shallow. I wish there were someone living around me that I see frequently, like in the laundry room, who I might develop a crush on. But would I pursue it? Maybe the aroma of fabric softener would stimulate my sensuality and propel me forward. Or maybe not.
.
I continued to have crushes on women I barely knew from afar. Celebrities? Barbara Hershey, Tuesday Weld, Sue Lyon, Michelle Phillips, Valerie Bertinelli, Ingrid Bergman, who was middle aged, but she was still Ingrid. Grace Kelly was too intimidating. The young Sally Field with that pert little nose. Others, many others.
Of course, one can't speak of these things with friends. Private crushes are so fragile.
These days I'm embarrassed to admit I sort of have a crush on Lauren Graham.Maybe I just loved her character in Gilmore Girls. I haven't been watching her new show Parenthood, so I guess I'm shallow. I wish there were someone living around me that I see frequently, like in the laundry room, who I might develop a crush on. But would I pursue it? Maybe the aroma of fabric softener would stimulate my sensuality and propel me forward. Or maybe not.
.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Tapped
Do you know how many times my car has been tapped by people getting into or out of a parking space? How about dozens. How many times have I confronted them? Zero. If there is no damage why start something that can escalate into a mess?
The other day I was backing up to pull out of a space when I tapped the car behind me. The driver had just gotten out and was standing next to it waiting to cross. I was waiting to pull out. He did not immediately rush over and say anything. About 40 seconds passed and just as I was about to leave, he walks over and says you know you tapped my car. It was his verb and it was accurate. Then he said that's a $150000 machine and I knew right then what I was dealing with. He was poorly shaven, holding half a cigarette, wearing a fatigue shirt. This was not a hedge fund manager. I shrugged and said sorry.
Then the Tom Berringer wannabe launched into a 30 second verbal assault, using longshoreman's language, half turning, gesturing. I let him wind down and watched the jerk cross the street, seething. Him, not me. There was a good chance if I had gotten out of the car there would have been escalation, maybe punches thrown. My lawyer ordered me to walk away from confrontations. With my luck, the crossing guard would have backed him and I'd have been charged with assault. No, that crap doesn't bother me anymore.
I expect little from people and am seldom disappointed. The guy probably had a miserable job, a rotten social life, a history of losses in every arena. He was just itching to spread his foul stench of misery and I would have none of it. I feel nothing for people like that. Let the humanists embrace compassion. I hit the gas and got out of there. I never did check what model car he drove. I'm guessing 150 thou was a bit of an exaggeration.
The other day I was backing up to pull out of a space when I tapped the car behind me. The driver had just gotten out and was standing next to it waiting to cross. I was waiting to pull out. He did not immediately rush over and say anything. About 40 seconds passed and just as I was about to leave, he walks over and says you know you tapped my car. It was his verb and it was accurate. Then he said that's a $150000 machine and I knew right then what I was dealing with. He was poorly shaven, holding half a cigarette, wearing a fatigue shirt. This was not a hedge fund manager. I shrugged and said sorry.
Then the Tom Berringer wannabe launched into a 30 second verbal assault, using longshoreman's language, half turning, gesturing. I let him wind down and watched the jerk cross the street, seething. Him, not me. There was a good chance if I had gotten out of the car there would have been escalation, maybe punches thrown. My lawyer ordered me to walk away from confrontations. With my luck, the crossing guard would have backed him and I'd have been charged with assault. No, that crap doesn't bother me anymore.
I expect little from people and am seldom disappointed. The guy probably had a miserable job, a rotten social life, a history of losses in every arena. He was just itching to spread his foul stench of misery and I would have none of it. I feel nothing for people like that. Let the humanists embrace compassion. I hit the gas and got out of there. I never did check what model car he drove. I'm guessing 150 thou was a bit of an exaggeration.
Closing
It's happening and I hate it. Another B&N closing. It is painful watching a book store close in segments. First they drop prices and plaster the windows with ugly signs. Then, one by one, sections are roped off. Books are consolidated. Empty spaces invade once happily stuffed shelves. Employees skulk around trying to force a smile.
The area in the front lobby, which contained two tables holding last chance books, is now empty. Sloppiness abounds. No one can gather up the energy to replace books left open or magazines scattered around tables.
The floor hasn't been swept. Imagine the bathrooms.
Suddenly whole battalions of customers appear to ravage bargains. Where were these people when the store's future was in the balance?
To be fair, I was part of the problem. I grabbed a book or periodical, headed to the cafe, ordered my drink and maybe a cookie, then spent two hours of free reading without purchasing the material. I hang my head in shame. I did get a Nook, which mitigates part of my guilt, but not enough. I am going to miss this place, as well as the record store next to it, also closing. What good is being retired if you can't go and hang out someplace?
The Starbucks nearby is okay in a pinch, but there are too many old guys sitting outside in warm weather speaking in some Eastern European language I can't understand. I just hope the empty space isn't filled by another Bed, Bath & Beyond. Yeah, beyond boring.
The area in the front lobby, which contained two tables holding last chance books, is now empty. Sloppiness abounds. No one can gather up the energy to replace books left open or magazines scattered around tables.
The floor hasn't been swept. Imagine the bathrooms.
Suddenly whole battalions of customers appear to ravage bargains. Where were these people when the store's future was in the balance?
To be fair, I was part of the problem. I grabbed a book or periodical, headed to the cafe, ordered my drink and maybe a cookie, then spent two hours of free reading without purchasing the material. I hang my head in shame. I did get a Nook, which mitigates part of my guilt, but not enough. I am going to miss this place, as well as the record store next to it, also closing. What good is being retired if you can't go and hang out someplace?
The Starbucks nearby is okay in a pinch, but there are too many old guys sitting outside in warm weather speaking in some Eastern European language I can't understand. I just hope the empty space isn't filled by another Bed, Bath & Beyond. Yeah, beyond boring.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)