Posted on February 16, 2007
The man was heavy in the middle, with a girth I couldn’t possibly have put my arms around. Not that I intended to.
Earl and I were waiting by the hostess desk for our table at Papa Vino’s earlier this evening when the man, who had a neatly tied ponytail, strode from the restaurant through the doors to the outside. He talked loudly with one of those things in his ears that looks like a giant cockroach, but which enables one to talk on the phone with free hands.
Earl and I were still waiting when he re-entered the restaurant and approached the hostess desk. “I need a pen,” he demanded. The hostess, a young woman, raised the pen in her hand and said, “I’m sorry; this is my only one.” He glowered, as if restaurants were required to meet secretarial needs as well as culinary ones. He reached over the desk, grabbed the pen and a pad of paper that rested there. As he turned to go back outside, the woman said, “Sir?” as if that would stop him. “I’ll be back soon,” he said over his shoulder and went his way.
Just then we were invited to our table, which happened to be in a cozy section of the bar. We settled in and ordered our cocktails when I noticed the burly man enter and join a couple at the bar. I have no idea whether he returned the pen or the pad of paper, but my first impression of him was set. And it wasn’t a complimentary one.
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Posted on February 15, 2007
And I ate a taxicab too.
For Christmas, I received a wonderful box of Eleni’s cookies. Eleni’s bakery is located in Chelsea Market, NYC, and whenever I go to town I try to get there and admire the artistry of the various theme cookies. Butterflies that almost flit, strawberries and lemon wedges that make your mouth water, designer handbags and designer shoes for the person on the go — Eleni’s has it all.
My gift was the “I’ll take Manhattan” collection, which includes cookies shaped as apples (the Big Apple, get it?), T-shirts that proclaim I heart NY, yellow taxicabs, and one gorgeous Statue of Liberty. I’ve slowly enjoyed them, working hard to make each cookie last. But two nights ago, I was down to the green frosted Statue of Liberty. As I polished off her crown, it dawned on me that Christmas was finally over.
Not to worry, however. Eleni’s has cookies all ready for the upcoming Academy Awards, complete with pictures of the best actors and actresses on them, as well as shapes for each of the five movies up for best picture. My favorite is the clunky yellow VW bus which has a starring role in “Little Miss Sunshine.”
If you’re interested in great cookies, visit www.elenis.com. Who knows? Maybe someday you’ll be able to say you ate a bus. Or the envelope that’s used on Oscar night with the phrase . . . “And the winner is.”
In the cookie category, the winner is Eleni’s.
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Posted on February 13, 2007
There’s a commercial that features Abraham Lincoln in his familiar stovepipe hat waiting in the kitchen with some sort of furry rodent-like animal. It might be a beaver or a groundhog — it doesn’t really matter. They’ve got a chess game set up on the table and seem to be waiting for someone.
Sure enough. In strolls a bedraggled man in a bathrobe. It’s evident he hasn’t slept in a while. “Where have you been? We’ve been waiting for you,” Lincoln says. To which the man replies that he can’t sleep; therefore, he can’t dream. The assumption is that Abe and his furry friend have been waiting for the man to return to dreamland and play chess with them.
This commercial promotes a prescription sleeping aid. I won’t dignify it by naming the drug and providing free publicity. But it is an insult to our intelligence, whether we’ve gotten a full night’s sleep lately or not.
Think about it. It’s as if the man, and by implication anyone who hasn’t slept well lately, should consider what is happening to his dreams. It’s as if dreams are reality and we need to cater to them. It’s as if losing one night’s sleep will disturb Abraham Lincoln, who — I’ve read — had issues with sleep himself.
This kind of silliness annoys me, because it suggests there’s something wrong with us if we don’t sleep well every night. Granted long term sleep deprivation is a serious concern; but suggesting we resolve it so our dreams will be happy is absurd. I bet the real Abraham Lincoln would think so too.
See more 10 Minutes in category Annoyances, Things to Ponder
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Posted on February 12, 2007
Molly Ivins, the syndicated liberal columnist who heralded from the same state as our current President, died about ten days ago after a lengthy battle with breast cancer. She was my age, sixty-two.
It was a surprise, not only because of the age similarity but also because the photo that usually accompanied her column in the local newspaper revealed a smiling woman with curly hair who seemed to be in the prime of her life. There was no hint that cancer stalked her.
Here in conservative southwestern Michigan, Ivins’ column ran maybe once or twice a week. Whenever I read the local paper — and I don’t always get to it — I enjoyed her view on things, probably because it was compatible with my own. She abhorred the war in Iraq and disdained the politicians who supported it. She coined the nickname “Shrub” for President Bush, although she attached it to him when he was the Governor of Texas and not when he became President. Nevertheless, she continued to use it until she died.
I asked Earl if he knew who Molly Ivins was. Not that I expected him too, since he is cut from a different political cloth than I am. I wasn’t disappointed in his answer, but when I explained at his request, “She was a liberal columnist who was my age and who died of breast cancer last Wednesday,” Earl’s wince suggested sympathy.
I should have stopped there. But, no, I told him about the nickname “Shrub.” In the doing, I probably erased any support he had. But then Molly wouldn’t have cared. As I settle in to read today’s paper, how I wish her smiling picture would greet me.
See more 10 Minutes in category Changing Scene, Politics, Writing
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Posted on February 11, 2007
A week ago today the Chicago Bears lost the Super Bowl to the Indianapolis Colts. There was great angst in the losing city and great euphoria in the winning one. Yesterday, the Pro Bowl — which I think is like other sports’ all-star games — was played in Hawaii. I learned of it after the fact. Pitchers and catchers report for duty sometime this week. And I forgot about blogging.
Not that any of these things necessarily changed the world. American soldiers and Iraqi residents were still killed. Eight feet of snow fell and buried Mexico, New York. Various Democratic presidential candidates made their decisions known. And Anna Nicole Smith’s death reminded me once again that we are obsessed with pop culture.
Most weeks probably see their share of “stories,” which — for a writer — provide grist to turn into prose. I found myself thinking about some of these things, but never got around to putting them on the virtual page. Instead, I spent the time reading, practicing piano, and generally hibernating. It’s that time of year, regardless of what the groundhog says.
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Posted on February 4, 2007
I’m busying watching the Super Bowl, so will offer only a brief thought for today:
The quickest renewable energy source is a smile.
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Posted on February 3, 2007
This is the eve of Super Bowl XLI. For those of you who don’t remember Roman numerals, that’s Super Bowl 41. Roman numerals are often used when one — in this instance, probably football professionals — wants to add status and drama to an event. It’s reminiscent of the glory days of the Coliseum.
The Super Bowl is nothing if not a re-enactment of the glory days. It pits two teams who have waged courageous battles over several months, defeating lesser opponents, until only they remain to claim the prize. It attracts worldwide attention, even though all the teams live and play in the United States. It takes two weeks to run up the hype until the Super Bowl is billed as the largest viewing event in all sportsdom.
Billy Joel will sing the national anthem; Prince will perform at half-time. Almost a billion people will seek a potty break then. City sewer systems will struggle.
This year, the two teams vying for the coveted trophy are — as if anyone out there needs this education — the Chicago Bears and the Indianapolis Colts, with the latter team favored by seven points. I’ve lived in both cities, but there’s no question about it. I’m rooting for the underdog Bears. Earl is rooting for them even more. Thankfully, we’re on the same side.
I’m a fair weather fan; but he’s the real deal. Earl will clap when we do well; scowl in silence when we don’t. He’ll take a victory, as well as a defeat, into Monday morning. Me? I’m stoic about it. It is, after all, just a game. The outcome won’t cure cancer or stop people from killing each other or even put food on one more table. It’s merely an evening of entertainment, and when it’s over we need to move on.
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Posted on February 2, 2007
In case you haven’t heard, we’re due for an early spring. I write this as I dig out from over two feet of snow that has stranded me in my own home.
Nevertheless, it’s true. Today is Ground Hog Day; and the one and only official groundhog, Punxsutawney Phil, came out of his burrow early this morning. If he feels like me about rising early, he probably preferred to stay in bed. But February 2 is his one and only chance to shine each year. He’s been doing it since the late 1880s, although I suspect it’s a job handed down from groundhog generation to the next groundhog generation.
Tradition has it that if the groundhog sees his shadow there are six more weeks of winter, and if he doesn’t then spring is around the snow-enbanked corner. This morning, Phil did not see his shadow and all the morning chat shows reported the happy news. I myself was in bed when the actual event occurred. So I went to Punxsutawney Phil’s web site, www.groundhog.org, to check the facts. Believe me, they are quite impressive.
Then I dressed and went out to shovel.
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Posted on January 31, 2007
I’m back to cooking, although most of my meals are relatively simple in nature. I prefer to serve healthy food at home, since we eat out regularly and indulge ourselves on those occasions. Tonight, for instance, I prepared baked salmon, steamed broccoli, and Spanish rice. And, no, Earl wouldn’t eat broccoli if it contained the cure for cancer.
But this blog isn’t really about the food I fix; it’s more about the tools I use to do it. For me, nothing beats a really good set of knives. For Earl, my kitchen partner, nothing beats the latest gadget. We have drawers full of them, each with its assigned responsibility.
When I want to dice an onion, I use a knife. When Earl wants to dice one, he uses his handy-dandy slicer/dicer. I agree that he probably gets the onion done in less time, but he makes up for it in cleaning the apparatus with its several parts. The same goes for nuts. We have a nut chopper, but I can do the same task in less time with a good knife. The same goes for garlic. We have a garlic press, but all you really need to do is skin the clove and press it under — you guessed it — a sharp knife. Voila!
My list is endless and probably originated with my Mother who never had an extra gadget in her life. Earl has one that removes grapefruit segments from the outer rind; my Mother used her knife. Earl has a mandolin — No, make that two mandolins — to create carrots and zucchini of any thickness. Mother got the job done with the same utensil she used to tighten a loose screw. Her knife was multi-purpose.
I’m beginning to think Earl watches too many infomercials. You know, the ones where you’re guaranteed a wonderful outcome if you purchase the gadget on sale. And so Earl does. This Sunday, Super Bowl Sunday 2007, we’re going to test some of these gadgets. Originally, I thought we’d order pizza; but now we’re going to get out the GT Xpress 101 and the Magic Bullet and go mano a mano to see what works best. I’m still betting on a sharpened kitchen knife.
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Posted on January 30, 2007
It started two days ago as snow began falling in the early morning hours. Radio reports said to expect a foot or more. Weather forecasters are usually less than one hundred percent accurate, but they were deadly precise in this case. By evening our snow gauge measured a good twelve inches. Since then, it’s measured a matching twelve. And it’s still snowing.
This is the first major snow accumulation in several years around here, and I’m not sure residents are ready for it. What with reports of global warming, our winters have become considerably milder; and our expectations have become milder too. For instance, last year’s snowplow bill was a mere sixty dollars, which represents three passes of our lengthy circular drive and the clearing in front of our three car garage. This year’s bill has already topped that, and Plowman George will be here again in the morning.
Another case in point: Earl has a coat he used to wear when winter struck. It made him look like the Michelin Tire guy, but it kept him warm. I haven’t seen it in recent years, although I’m willing to bet its appearance is around the next snowy corner. Schools have been closed these two days, and the prognosis for tomorrow is not good if you’re a parent. It’s wonderful for students, however, as they’ll probably be making snowmen and snow angels at least one more day.
I rather like the snow. It reminds me of childhood memories and how we simply bundled up and dealt with it. I don’t remember ever having a snow day, even though I lived in Syracuse, New York for part of my youth (which is pretty far north), in St. Louis, Missouri; and in Little Rock, Arkansas. Of course, Little Rock didn’t get a lot of snow; but even when it did, life went on.
Maybe people are more practical today, or maybe they’re made of different stuff. I only know that the peace and quiet that has arrived with the snow seems almost novel in its rarity. Stuck inside, I plan to read by the fire, catch up on various projects, sleep a little more, and wait until the thaw.
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