One Tough Cookie

Today is National Cookie Day! Those of you outside the United States please feel free to celebrate also. I am almost certain that there is nothing so subversive about cookies that would undermine any world government.

I became aware of today’s designation when I read an article in the paper last week reporting that Cinnabon selected today to release its new cookie/cinnamon bun hybrid specifically because it is National Cookie Day. Since they have outlets in about 40 other countries they must not think cookies pose a threat of international destabilization either.

Although the thought of a cinnamon bun wrapped inside a cookie (or the other way even) is intriguing (and mouthwatering to boot), it was the day designation that made me go “hmmm” when I read that piece. I could have sworn we already had a cookie day this year. A check of my official “let’s celebrate anything we can to make a buck” calendar indeed revealed December 4 as Nation Cookie Day! (exclamation added) Is there nothing we won’t celebrate? (Tolerance of opposing political views excluded.)

Already this month, if you haven’t been paying attention, you have missed Red Apple Day (Dec. 1), National Fritters Day (12/2), and Roof Over Your Head Day (yesterday). Don’t be caught tomorrow in black moccasins because Tuesday is Brown Shoe Day. Not surprisingly every day has something associated with it. Thirty six occasions (you read that right) are special interest supported days designed primarily to get you to buy something. Apparently just about anything from the aforementioned Fritters to Bicarbonate of Soda. (That comes on December 30.) (You would have thought that would have been the Friday after Thanksgiving.) (Or January 2.) (But Dec. 30? Who’s pigging out on Christmas ham for 5 days?) (I probably overuse parentheses, don’t I?)

So, if you are reading this in Morocco and want a cookie today, feel free to stop at your local Cinnabon and try out their new Frankencookie. I am almost certain you’ll be able to find one debuting there also. But if you’re concerned about inciting a riot by serving bouillabaisse on the 14th of this month because it is an American “holiday” (even though you have a better claim on it that we do), feel free to serve a tuna salad sandwich. We’ll understand. (Probably.)

CookieGuide

Something in Common

What do I and Matt Lauer and I have in common? I wouldn’t have been given a second chance either. Finally somebody is treating the elite like the mere mortals they are!

If you were expecting to read a post decrying Matt or Charlie, Kevin or Harvey as scums who don’t deserve to share Earth with the rest of us, that’s not quite what you’ll find here today. They are and they don’t. You don’t need me to add to that conversation. You will find here a grudgingly admiring opinion recognizing the particular powers who finally started treating the Matts and Charlies, the Kevins and Harveys like the Regular Joes that they are. At least the Matts.

Mostly I have to say how I hope this trend will continue. No, not the trend of hate and fear and intimidation. The trend (if one instance can be hoped to be the start of a trend) that even the star quarterback of the team isn’t going to get any different treatment than the water boy when one who was wronged speaks up.

I worked in management positions for 30 years. In addition to nice salaries and bonuses, choice hours, opportunities to write and speak, and a really bigger office than I deserved but wasn’t about to give back, management positions bring with them lots of complaints. Complaints between coworkers that I had to deal with and complaints about me that somebody else made sure I had to deal with, and sometimes complaints about other supervisors that I was asked by my superiors to participate in the deliberations begun to deal with. And among all the complaints, though very few, were complaints of inappropriate behavior.

There were probably very few complaints of inappropriate behavior because for the most part we were a system within an industry within a country of water boys. But when inappropriateness raised its head (and I’ll keep using the questionable term “inappropriate” because at our level, inappropriate behavior was just as bad as blatant assault) there were no look aways, no second chances, no golden parachutes. There was termination. And sometimes criminal charges. If a creep was uncovered he (and sometimes she) was told to move on. Preferably in some other field, like envelope stuffing. See, there aren’t many star quarterbacks in the word. Nor many movie moguls, A-list actors, famous comedians, politicians, TV news anchorpersons. So the investigation, the deliberations, and the punishment were conducted like it was just A Regular Joe, not the face of morning news.

There are creeps among the Regular Joes but for most, Regular Joes are an ok bunch. When a Regular Joe is determined to be irregular, Joe is called out for it. There aren’t many “suspended with pay pending investigation,” “determined to be an isolated incident,” or “it was consensual.” Regular Joes were sent home while we looked into it, which usually took just a day or two or three. Only if there was clear evidence that the allegation was fabricated was Joe asked back. Then a whole different investigation was begun. Sometimes Regular Joe had to sit at home for a length of time. When that happened, Regular Joe better have had a decent savings account because in the Water Boy World, if you aren’t working, you aren’t earning.

Finally, I have to ask for blessings to the women and men who have stepped up and made known the atrocities they were forced to endure. I also have to state my disappointment that there were probably others who didn’t step up not because they felt threatened but because they sought out the attention of these creeps only because they were famous creeps. Some creeps are born to creepdom but many are encouraged along the way. It’s no excuse and it’s not making things easy for the ones opened up.

There aren’t a lot of breaks for Regular Josephines and Joes that stepped forward. There shouldn’t be for a Matt or a Harvey.

The famous already got their break.

Give Till It Doesn’t Hurt

Tomorrow is Giving Tuesday. I would hope that enough people are mature enough to be able to donate time, talent, and/or money to worthy causes without a special day to remind us to donate to worthy causes. But if you aren’t and you do, then somebody can benefit from your generosity at least once a year. (That’s the generic you, not the you who is reading this.) (Surely.)

It’s odd they would stick such an altruistic day right after the excesses of Thanksgiving, Black Friday, Small Saturday, and Cyber Monday. Then again, maybe it is the perfect day for it. Any change you have left isn’t enough to do you any good so you might as well give it away.

GTHeartIf you are a little strapped either from the holiday excess or just because you’re a little strapped, I have some giving ideas that aren’t economically painful.

Remember those homeless people you wanted to help by volunteering at the shelters with Thanksgiving dinner? They are still hungry and most of those shelters don’t have so many volunteers they can turn away an extra hand on a not so random Tuesday.

For almost every Christian sect in the world, Advent begins this weekend. Churches and chapels are decorating their spaces for Christmas this week. I never met a church with enough hands that they would turn away an extra pair not tied up at the homeless shelter serving lunch. Most of those churches can use help throughout the year also, so while you’re there ask about those needs also.

Are you still fighting leftovers? While you’re rummaging through your recipe files for yet another way to prepare a turkey casserole, pull one out for something you can make to bring to your local fire station, emergency medical service, police or sheriff department. They made a choice to give back to their communities for a lifetime. You can choose to give to them for a day. (Pick something fresh and leave the leftovers to the kids.)

Hospitals, nursing homes, health centers, schools, day cares, libraries, Meals on Wheels, senior agencies, and other assorted services want help over the entire year. Make Giving Tuesday your start date to apply to volunteer on a regular basis to a worthy cause.

And finally, if you still want to give back and really can’t spare more than about an hour, donate blood. You’ll even get a cookie when you’re done. You can give and get all at the same time!

 

 

A Prayer for Thanksgiving

Today is Thanksgiving in the United States. It was or will be likewise around the world. Everybody is thankful for something and most nations have managed to work in a holiday to legitimize the feeling.

I don’t know how others do it but Americans have been managing to delegitimize feelings quite efficiently lately. We’ll tout our tolerance and claim to accept all and then slur anyone who doesn’t feel the same and blur want for welcome. We support everything and everyone as long as it or they support us in the manner to which we think we should be accustomed. Our gratitude for what we have is matched by our appetite for what we don’t.

Sometime today while I think of all that I am thankful for I’ll manage to miss most of them. So will everyone else. Mostly we’re not bad people as much as clueless ones. Clueless to the differences between our reality and the one that’s really out there. And clueless to how much we rely on what we don’t even know is happening.

So when you give your thanks today that hopefully you won’t restrict to just today I offer you the prayer I started today with.

Heavenly Father, this is the day set aside to give thanks for Your surpassing goodness to human beings. Let me give proper thanks for my blessings  –  those I am aware of as well as those that I habitually take for granted. And let me use them according to Your will.

Happy Thanksgiving today and every day you think to be thankful.

Games People Play

Christmas is coming. You can tell by the way TV commercials have taken their annual bend towards toys and games that most companies don’t spend money on during the year.

RaiseTheFunHasbro has taken a different approach to marketing some of their classic boxed games on their “Raise the Fun” commercial suggesting you add challenges to some of their games. I personally like the idea of Pillow Twister*. But of course that got me thinking, why stop there?

So, as I have said from time to time, since yes, I do have that kind of time, I came up with a few of my own combinations. (You should probably see ** about this next section.)

Remote Control Life: No, this game is not about telecommuting or “working from home.” It’s played like the regular Game of Life but instead of the little plastic cars you use remote control cars to navigate the game board. For bonus points you can raid the kids’ doll collections to replace the traditional stick figure-ish tokens.

Basketball Monopoly: Play progresses like regular monopoly but you can’t buy or build on any property until you successfully toss the deed through an indoor basketball hoop like you mount on the back of your office door at work. (I had thought of Real Money Monopoly but that would limit players to only movie stars and politicians, the only demographic groups that want you to believe they are just regular folk but are actually the only ones with enough money to pull off the game.)

Macaronic Scrabble: Each player constructs words in a different language.

Drone Strike Battleship: Upon completely identifying an opponent’s vessel it is sunk in an actual drone strike. WARNING: this game should be played only outdoors and with all warnings traditionally reserved for lawn darts.

Bubble Wrap Lawn Darts: Like Pillow Twister for the more adventurous set. See warning above.

Clay Pottionary:  Three dimensional Pictionary with Play-Doh.

Candy Candy Land: Candy Land with real goodies. Should not be played within 4 hours of bedtime.

Strip Mahjong: For the older crowd. Players identify a varicose vein that has been stripped each time tiles are removed from the board. (You weren’t expecting that, were you?)

* Hasbro did not pay me or anyone in my family or any close friends in cash or by other financial considerations. I just really like the idea of Pillow Twister. Being around when it was first released I have a special spot for the game. Maybe that was because I was a young teenager when Johnny Carson and Eva Gabor played it on the Tonight Show and, well….

** None of the owners of any these games paid me nothing neither. See if I ever mention them again!

Twister

Image via Global Toy News

 

Packed Man

Thanksgiving is a week away and that means that many families are preparing for their week away. All those people that come home for the holidays and the homecomings and the reunions are coming from somewhere. And that involves travelling.

I don’t travel. I only have to go about 12 miles to get home and if anyone wants to return to my nest it’s still only a dozen or so mile markers only from a different direction. No cots or sleeping bags will adorn my living room floor next week, I’ll need not make any hotel reservations to visit anyone and at the end of the day everyone can use their own pillows without having to pack them.

A friend of mine doesn’t share the same travel stress-free holiday as I and it brought up the subject of packing. And not just pillows. Although I have never had to pack to enjoy a weekend with loved ones, I have over the years packed billions and billions of times for work, leisure, both, and sometimes in retrospect, neither. And all our talk brought up memories of packing and even unpacking that I have lodged in my memories vault.

Packing for vacations was always a harder than it should be ordeal for me. I wish I could be one of those who spend a summer backpacking across Europe and actually manage to spend an entire season crossing an entire continent while surviving out of one actual backpack. I needed an entire three suiter sized suitcase (plus my allotted two carry-ons) to spend 7 days on Puerto Rico. Just for me. And I’m a guy!

You’d think that would have been easy. Swimsuit. Flip flops. Done. Pack in a day bag. Still have room for a toothbrush and some sunscreen. I had that covered. It actually went more like this.
-Swimsuit and flip flops into the case. A whole week? Just one pair of trunks? In goes another.
-If I want to walk anywhere but along the beach I don’t like flip flops. Sandals, into the case.
-Can’t have dinner in swimwear. Shorts, tropical print shirt. Times 7.
-Gotta go to a nice dinner at least once, maybe twice. Maybe more. Slacks. Nice shirts.
-One even nicer dinner. Add a blazer. Wait, now we need real shoes.
-I’ll want to go to the casino. Bond, James Bond always wears a tuxedo to the casino. I’m not Bond, James Bond. No tux. But something nicer than shorts and a t-shirt. For a few nights. Ok, all of them.
-And something for the work out room. I never use the work out rooms but just in case that means work out clothes and shoes.
-Don’t forget pajamas. Even if you don’t wear them at home you have to have them for travelling in case there’s a fire at night. Don’t forget slippers.
And that is why I have paid overweight baggage fees.

SuitcaseBusiness trips weren’t less painful. The last few years of work I traveled a lot to other hospitals to do operational reviews. These would take me one or two days each and I usually did 2 or 3 hospitals at a time so I was mostly gone for 4 or 5 days. Because these places could be located almost anywhere in the country and there are only 3 airports in the world that have direct flights between them, business travel meant more time in and between airports than at productive work. Somehow I managed to get a week’s worth of shirts and ties, laptop and files, and the requisite book, phone and flight snack crammed into one approved sized carry-on. Heavy, but within the limits of the underseat and overhead compartment areas.

No matter if it was a week-long vacation, a long weekend getaway, or the puddle jumping business treks, each time I’d check in to a hotel I’d empty my modern day steamer trunk and/or little carry-on, iron the wrinkles out of the shirts, then hang everything up and load the folded stuff into the dresser drawers. When I’d go anywhere with anyone else I’d get the questioning looks that said “what the heck are you doing?” and that included the ex who should have already known I was more than a little on the “over organized” side of things. (Does anybody else do this also or do all those hotels put in closets and dressers and provide irons and ironing boards just in case I happen to show up?)

And that’s why I’m looking forward to next week and one of the things I am thankful for. No matter where I end up for the holiday, no suitcases will be involved in the travel.

All Downhill from Here

I know I haven’t lived the most exemplary life, but even by my standards, this just isn’t fair. It’s because I still read the paper.

Yesterday’s Sunday paper, the big one for the week, the one with all the features and ads that get in your way of finding Saturday’s scores and the comics. That one. The one that published this year’s first ski report. Yeah. It’s skiing time.

I guess that shouldn’t be so shocking. It was only 14 degrees Friday night. (That’s in Fahrenheit here. Using my handy dandy conversion calculator I make it that would be -10 Celsius. Oh, that sounds even colder.) Plenty cold enough for either the natural or manufactured variety of ski powder, and there were both in the mountains. Not shocking nor unfair.

The shocking part…the price of lift tickets. Here a weekend ticket is going for better than $200. That’s not close to a weekend at say St. Regis but a far cry from the $49 that is cost when I was half my current age. But the reality is that a Big Mac has gone up over 200% in 30 years also. So, shocking but not not fair.

skier

Image by Lakeshore Learning via Pinterest

The unfair part is the discounts. I don’t mind seeing the young ones getting their 20% or so off the adult prices and that kids under 5 ski free. I applaud that they recognize that seniors might still want to tackle the slopes and give them a full half off the regular prices. That’s very fair. Especially as one pending seniordom I relish on finally collecting the perks. The unfair part is that I can’t yet and won’t for years! Why? Because their idea of senior doesn’t start at 55 with one’s newly acquired AARP card. It’s not at 60, a nice round number, or at 62 which seems to have become the new standard for discounts announced right about the time I turned 60. It’s not even 65 which is what most places will consider reasonable for a senior discount right around the time I’ll turn 62. Nope, their idea of senior is 70. Yes, if you are between 70 and 79, you can ski at any of the area ski resorts for 50% off the regular adult rate.

Oh, what happens after 79? I’m glad you asked. At 80, you can ski free. Really. If you can manage to remember where you put your skis you can use them to your hearts content. Or its stoppage, whichever comes first.

Butter Me Up

While going though yesterday’s emails I skimmed past the one “What’s in Movie Theatre Popcorn Butter,” stopped, went back, and clicked. First, DON’T click on that if you like movie theater popcorn butter. And second, this post has nothing to do with movies, theaters, or popcorn. But that does leave butter. (Which apparently is more than you can say about movie theater popcorn butter.) (Ooops.)

Christmas is coming and shortly we’ll start seeing the television commercials they only trot out at holidays. Among these are the commercials for fragrances. You would think the only time anybody bought perfume for their feminine others is at Christmas, Valentine’s Day, and Mother’s Day. Come to think of it, you’d probably be right. Equally right would be the only time anybody buys colognes for dads is at Christmas and Father’s Day. (I’m specifying dads here because other than dads and granddads, the chance of having a male fragrance bought for any male without guilt ridden children with no idea what to get him is basically nonexistent even at these times of year.)

Something that has changed in the last few years is that men’s fragrances now don’t stop at what one splashes on one’s face. Today the fragrance world also includes men’s favorites for room freshening.

Leather, cedar, barbecue, and bacon scented air fresheners will also be heavily advertised in print, on line, and on air next month. These are the smells men like. One fragrancier boasts air fresheners named “Hunting Lodge,” “Distillery,” and “European Sports Car.” A major chain ‘mart’ has pizza scented freshener hanging next to the dangly pine trees. You can buy candles scented as gunpowder and pipe tobacco. Turkey leg and corn dog car scents threaten to replace “new car” and “ocean breeze” for on the road freshairness.

Hot dogs and pizza, even bourbon and tobacco are good smells. Nobody can argue against the ability of the smell of bacon crisping on the stove to stimulate the salivary glands. But do you want to smell that all day. Ok, maybe you do, but I don’t. I don’t want to smell bacon or bourbon, pizza or pipes, or heather or hotdogs everywhere I go. At the same time, even though I enjoy hanging out with my sensitive side, I don’t want lavender and chamomile following me around all day either. So what do I want my living room to be to my nose? Where can in turn for some smelly inspiration?

I spent almost 40 years working in hospitals, nursing homes, and colleges. All have their own unique … um … smells yet they’re all the same. Whether outside a patient room, a dorm room, or the C-Suite conference room, there will be a mix of bad coffee, sweat, fear, and a bodily function gone wrong. No, not there.

I love to be outside. In the summer I don’t really need a house. I’ll be at the pool, on the patio or on the road. In the winter I am very happy walking through snowflakes falling from the sky on a crisp morning. In between those seasons it can be rainy and windy and ugly but it’s also the best times to put the top down and test the limits of lateral suspension cruising down a country road speeding by the new colors of spring or the waning colors of fall. The sights of the seasons may be remarkable but the olfactory memories are of chlorine, charcoal, gasoline, road salt, and abused tires and clutches. Pass.

My personal favorite scents come from the kitchen. Starting with breakfast and sizzling sausage and brewing coffee. Ripe apples cut into super thin slices stirred into yogurt dusted with fresh grated nutmeg at lunch. Dinner with fresh lemon juice and balsamic dancing in the ripping hot pan around a perfectly cooked salmon. Now here are some a-list aromas. But no. They are special. They belong in the kitchen and the dining room. Not hung from the rear view mirror.

ButterSo what manly smell would I want hanging around me all day? Remember that movie theater popcorn butter that started this meandering missive? Yeah, that one. No, not that. But it’s close. It’s butter. Real butter, but the real butter melted in a hot pan when it just hits that perfect spot after the water has sizzled out of it but the browning hasn’t started and it gives off that unexpected nuttiness that lasts just a handful of seconds. That butter.

Take that scent and put it in a candle, hang it from a mirror, or spray it all around. Heck, do all three. Even the manliest of men will stop and sniff the air and know this is the way the world is supposed to smell.

And if that doesn’t work, well there’s always the popcorn.

Timely yet Priceless

Have you changed your clock back yet? If you’re somewhere where that happens, of course. If you’re not, then you shouldn’t have, so don’t now. I’m of two minds when it comes to these twice yearly time changes. Now the two minds aren’t I like it but I don’t like it. It’s the rule so I’m going to do it and not let my personal feelings intrude on my appropriate completion of this task. Like coming to a complete stop before making a right turn on red, particularly in the face of oncoming traffic. I might not like it but it’s what we’re supposed to do and not liking it out loud isn’t going to change that.

I don’t understand why Arizona doesn’t follow Daylight Savings Time. Hawaii, Guam, Puerto Rico, Samoa, and the US Virgin Islands don’t either but they’re isolated from the rest of the country so if they want to follow what their closest neighbors do, that makes sense. Arizona doesn’t. Oh sure, Arizonans didn’t have to wonder should I change my clock before I go to bed on Saturday or after I wake up on Sunday, but is that a fair exchange for being out of sync with their border state neighbors all summer long and tuning in for the 6:00 news an hour early for six months?

SlowClock

Anyway, my two minds are when to actually make the change. Nobody in their right mind is going to wake up at 2:00 am just to reset various timepieces. I certainly wouldn’t and I’m not necessarily that right in my mind. Besides, I not only wouldn’t but I couldn’t. I have other things to do when I change my clocks and I need to be alert which I certainly am not in the middle of the night. So that leaves the day before or the day after.

Typically I change my clocks before I go to bed. But not right before. If I waited till then I’d forget. So I change them when I think about it or hear or read a reminder. Usually that’s around 5 in the afternoon. That’s what time I changed them 2 days ago. Then for the next 6 hours I wondered every time I looked at a clock what time it really was. Since the computers and phones magically change themselves in the middle of the night I didn’t touch them. That meant that none of the clocks in the room matched the times on my cell phone and tablet which are my ever present recliner companions. And worse than that, the TV listings didn’t match the clock next to the TV. I’ve been changing my own clocks for over 40 years and I go through this dilemma twice a year every year. Next year I think I might wait until I wake up on Sunday to change them and see what happens.

By the way, tomorrow is a noteworthy if not outright special day for The Real Reality Show Blog. On November 7, 2011, I posted the first of now close to 600 posts. Except for a few months when I was in the intensive care unit at the local get well center, I got a post out every Monday and Thursday for six whole years – with an occasional off schedule day tossed in to keep you on your toes. And during all that, this amazing feat has been brought to you for nothing more than your energy to connect and your desire to read.

I want to thank you for your support and continued readership. It is only with that support that this blog is and always will be free. And worth every penny.

 

Pantsing Around

The last couple of days here have been the cold, rainy, dreary, generally not the kind of weather you want to go outside in unless you have to type of days you find when fall really turns into prep days for winter. So I’ve been practicing sitting around and relaxing since most of my days include “don’t go outside unless you have to” on the to do list.

Mostly I’ll read, write, or puzzle something out to bide my time on those inside days. Every so often I’ll turn on the television and see what I might have missed in prime time over the past few years by watching whatever new has hit the late afternoon/early evening syndication runs. I’ve discovered that I’m much too overdressed to be properly relaxed. Apparently the All-American male cannot relax with pants on. I missed that somewhere along the way.

In every sitcom on television today, there is a male character who barely crosses the threshold of his house before taking his pants off. These males range from youngster at the cusp of teendom, to teenager, to young adult, to middle aged parent, to grandfather. They are from struggling, middle class, well to do, and outright rich families from New York across America to California, of a variety of ethnic backgrounds. Their only common denominators are male-ism and being pantsless at home.

This concerns me. I never ran across this behavior in my personal experiences. I have often been in what I would otherwise consider a relaxing situation and I have always kept my pants on. I have observed other men from my own, older, and younger generations, and have never seen any of them kicked back on the sofa in boxers or briefs. Yet our television role models are dropping trou before they clear the front door. And not just in solitude. They do it and stay that way in front of wives, mothers, siblings, offspring, and on several occasions, delivery persons.

Don’t say that they’re only sitcom males and I shouldn’t be taking them seriously. Sitcoms are America. We may want to think that the hour long dramas are where Americans are really at but they aren’t. The dramas may be what we want to believe us to be. We want to be that deep, that inclusive, that concerned with the environment, current causes, and family. But we aren’t. As much as we want to be the Pearsons, deep down we know we’re really the Hecks.

Clearly I’ve been doing it wrong for a lifetime. And I’m afraid that as I’ve gotten this far in my life I’m too old to change and will continue relaxing with all of my clothes on. I know, I’m bucking convention here but I can’t see myself any other way. And I sincerely hope it doesn’t offend any of you to know that as I’m typing this, I’m wearing pants.