Five Minutes Wait

If you don’t like the weather just wait five minutes. It’ll change. How many times have you heard that, said that, or wished that? Unless you maybe live on St. Lucia not during hurricane season. Around here those five minute changes are actually getting fairly commonplace. It’s sort of scary sometimes. Let me take you through 48 hours of last weekend.

Friday morning followed a couple warmish days for February north of the 40th parallel. With temperatures expected to be around 40 degrees at midday we had just completed a week of daytime highs in the 50s and 60s. At wakeup time it was about 54 degrees. We should have expected it to be closer to 24 degrees but a warm week happens just as often as the cold week.

It shouldn’t have been unexpected. The forecasters actually predicted warmer weather. Even though over half of the month to date had been at or below average for February, the half that was higher was high enough to predict that this month would be the warmest February on record. Days and weeks and months of weather being any but what’s expected are expected around here. A warmest February on record didn’t get the global warming proponents any more excited than the coldest February on record in 2015 got the global warming opponents excited. We’ve come to learn to expect the unexpected. (Trite, but descriptive.)

Anyway, Friday I woke up to 54 degree weather and a morning forecast of it getting warmer. Indeed, by 1:00 it had breezed past (with calm winds) the previous date record of 70 degrees on its way to a high a few hours later of 76 degrees under clear, sunny skies. I got to see none of this being locked away against my will at the dialysis clinic. When I emerged from their binds a bit after 4:00 in the afternoon my car thermometer confirmed I was living in a parallel city that should have been occupying the Southern Hemisphere. As pleasant as it was I could honestly say I didn’t like it and wished it would change.

You see, I wanted it to change because it is still winter. As much as I have been less tolerant of colder days as I have entered my older days I still want seasons. If I didn’t enjoy a few weeks every year of rain and new growth flowers in the spring and falling leaves and brisk mornings in the fall and even cold and snow in the winter, I’d move to St. Lucia. I also wanted it to change because there a hockey game was scheduled to be played outside Saturday evening. Who wants to see outdoor hockey in mid70 degree weather. I don’t even like to go to baseball games when it’s that hot. Not to worry. God is a hockey fan and He’ll take care of it I told myself. It took a few more than five minutes.

Saturday at wake up it was the same 54 degrees that greeted me Friday morning and at 1:00 in the afternoon the weather service was still recording temperatures in the 50s. But then (probably because I was outside rather than chained to a medieval medical machine yet dressed like I was outside the day before) the temperature took a dramatic plunge. An hour later it was ten degrees colder, another hour another ten degrees and by 4:00 as I was finally home and changed into more appropriate clothing for February weather, February weather returned with a gusto (and with wind gusts approaching 40mph).

At 6:00 when the gates opened for the game the temperature had dropped to 36 degrees and snow flurries were flitting in the glow of the high intensity lighting. At face-off the recorded temp was exactly 32 degrees. And all was right with the world.

Sunday morning I woke up to the temperature at 26 degrees, a drop of 50 degrees in 40 hours. Maybe a little chilly for some but according to the weather people exactly average for the date.

Exactly average. How unimpressive is that? But it’s ok. If you don’t like it, just wait five minutes.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

Salad Days

A couple of days ago I met a friend for lunch. This is a change for me as I usually meet friends for breakfast which itself was a change for me as I used to meet friends for happy hour. The things we must adjust to as we get older. Sigh.

Anyway changing from breakfast to lunch meant I had to read and consider the menu. Breakfast is easy. I check out what’s at the top of the list and say I’ll have the *full in the blank* with the eggs over easy and wheat toast. The top item is always the same, two (sometimes 3) eggs any style with three (sometimes 2) pieces of bacon and sauaage, home fries, and toast. It’s just about what I have every morning whether out or at home except that on Saturdays at home I add pancakes or waffles depending on my mood unless I completely switch things up and go with French Toast, or decide to give my heart a break (it’s one of the few organs still in its original condition) and have oatmeal.

So, that top item on the breakfast menu. It’s always the same but I have to take a quick glance at the menu to see what that particular restaurant/diner calls it so I can *fill in the blank* for the server. Even the most greasy-spoon-ish diner will have some cute name for it. Grandpa Bob’s Favorite or Harvey’s Hungry Meal or The Lumberjack Special. Bob and Harvey make sense because we’re usually eating at Bob’s Breakfasts or Harvey’s Hungry House. But a bunch of places have a lumberjack meal or two and I don’t know that this spot on Earth is known for commercial forresting. It’s their places and their menus so I guess they can call ther meals whatever they like.

But I digress. Again. On this particular day I wasn’t eating breakfast out and had to get accustomed to a whole new set of menu selections. Did you ever notice that restaurants/diners don’t give lunch offerings cute names? A grilled chicken wrap is a grilled chicken wrap. I guess by lunch most of the diners have fumbled their way through a half day of work, school, or shopping and just want to eat.

I checked out the offerings and made my choice. I might have mumbled sort of out loud that I was going on the light side and order a salad. That’s when my lunch companion just had to remind me that salad does not always equal light and healthy. Especially at this spot on Earth. Around here our best selling salad whether at restaurants, diners, or at the bar during those once happier happy hours is the steak salad.

Now at those places on Earth that might recognize that you can make a salad out of a steak might just add some grilled steak strips onto a bowl of lettuce and it’s usual accompaniments. Not here. Here we take a whole steak, perhaps even a strip steak, and drop it on top of a hearty salad that by itself could serve 3 or 4, then add cheese, hardboiled eggs (at least two), and french fries. And the only dressing allowed is ranch. And never on the side. Yep. Not exactly light.

So, I decided against the steak salad and tried to stick with something “on the light side.” And I found it, right there in the salad section. A taco salad. It didn’t even come with dressing.

How much lighter can you get?

That’s what I  think. Really. How ’bout you?

Forty-five Weirdos and Counting

This is a long post. I hope you’ll stick around to read it all, maybe a bit at a time if you have to. I had fun researching and writing it. I’d like to think you’ll have at least as much fun reading it.

mtrushmore

In the United States today is Presidents Day. Actually, it isn’t. Technically it is Washington’s Birthday. But actually it isn’t. That’s Wednesday. February 22. What is today is Washington’s Birthday by an Act of Congress. Actually, by Public Law 90-363 passed on June 28, 1968 Congress decreed that Washington’s Birthday, Memorial Day, Labor Day, Columbus Day, and Veterans Day to be celebrated on a specific Monday rather than whatever willy-nilly day the actual previously recognized date might fall on during the week. This same act, by the way, declared that New Year’s Day shall be celebrated on January 1, Independence Day (colloquially known as The Fourth of July) will be observed on July 4, and Christmas can be held on December 25. At least they were until that was amended that if those last three mentioned holidays might somehow fall on a Saturday or Sunday (which we know that almost all government employees and all Members of Congress already get off), the observation shall be shifted to either the preceding Friday or following Monday. And we question the dedication of today’s Congress.

Well, even though we might actually question the need to recognized 44 other questionable human beings who shared the American Presidency with Gorgeous George, most of us are taking today off to do just that. Questionable? Did I just say questionable? Yes, I did. It didn’t take much research to determine that every one of those 45 elected had something somewhat awkward in their background. Or foreground. Every. Single. One.  Even George. Let me count the ways.

President, the First. George Washington. (1789-1797) Even though almost everyone who has ever petitioned his or her state assembly to legalize marijuana believes that Washington was the first to inhale in office, he didn’t. He liked wine and whiskey, and probably women and song. But not weed. He did grow hemp on his plantation. But that was turned into rope for the shipping business. What he did do in his spare time after leaving the Presidency was turn neighboring plantation owners’ cast-off grains into moonshine. And made a pretty good dollar (at that time without his face on it) at the venture.

John Adams. (1797-1801) Anybody who has seen “1776” on the screen or the stage might walk away with the feeling that our second President (and first Vice President) might have been the least liked of the Founding Fathers. They would be right. John Adams was unpleasant on his most pleasant days. He disliked almost everything that wasn’t his idea, and several of those. He was also brilliant. He graduated from Harvard at age 20 earned his law license a year later, yet another Harvard degree two years after that. He was a two term appointed member of the Continental Congress, authored the Massachusetts Constitution, drafted the Declaration of Independence with Thomas Jefferson Roger Sherman, Robert Livingston, and Benjamin Franklin, negotiated the peace treaty with England, served as Ambassador to France, Holland, and England, and became President. All the while (even the while while he was going to Harvard) (the first time) drunk by today’s standard.  As a skunk. No wonder he was so mean.

Thomas Jefferson. (1801-1809) Jefferson may be best known as the primary author of the Declaration of Independence. That’s far from the only thing he ever wrote. And you can read all of them (or at least be in their presence) at one of the many libraries of Jefferson’s writings. That’s because he saved every single piece of correspondence that he ever wrote. Over 40,000 items. Obsessed?  He owned slaves but they were never seen in the main living quarters of his mansion. He designed a series of dumb waiters and servers so his servants wouldn’t be able to eavesdrop on his conversations. Paranoid? Although credited with nine sustained inventions he never patented any so that everybody could use them. Putz!

James Madison. (1809-1817). Madison was the youngest member of the First Continental Congress. He is known as the Father of the Constitution as the primary author for the document and for the Bill of Rights. (You know, the first 12 amendments. Oh, you think there were only 10? Check your history.) He fostered the idea of the three branches of government and the separation of powers. Madison was a gifted and important man. He was also the proverbial stuffed shirt. But his wife, Dolly, was the life of the party. In fact, is was his Presidency that saw the first Inaugural Ball. He might have been a stuffed shirt but he was smart. His motto may indeed have been “Happy Wife, Happy Life.”

James Monroe. (1817-1825). If you check those dates closely you’ll see he became President shortly after the War of 1812 ended. One of the casualties of that war was the White House. It was during Monroe’s early years that the White House was being repaired and remodeled. Thus, he took the opportunity to visit the masses and spent two years on the road.

John Quincy Adams. (1825-1829). When Adams the Second took up residence of the newly remodeled executive mansion he found a room that had not yet been furnished. Since it looked the right size he had it outfitted with a billiard table, chess sets, and other games of chance of the nineteenth century. He also kept an alligator as a White House pet.

Andrew Jackson. (1829-1837). The first Washington outsider to be elected, Jackson, a general from the War of 1812, was considered the Peoples’ President. He brought his military temperament to his elected position, often intimidating staff, visitors, and reporters at the White House, and always carrying his service revolver on his person.

Martin Van Buren. (1837-1841). Van Buren was the ideological opposite of his predecessor Jackson. But one thing did not change.  The 8th President had the same proclivity as the 7th for Presidential weaponry and often wore loaded pistols (2!) when addressing the Senate.

William Henry Harrison. (1841-1841). (Yes, he’s the one. Only 32 days in office, March 4 to April 4.) (Yes, March 4. They didn’t move the inauguration to January until 1937.)  Harrison famously delivered his 8,400+ word address in the wind, rain and cold without hat or coat. Three weeks later he was diagnosed with pneumonia and died 10 days later, the first President to die in office.

John Tyler. (1841-1845). Dubbed “His Accidency.” Need more?

James K. Polk. (1845-1849). Polk’s weirdiosity was not as frivolous as some of the preceding chief executives. In fact, he was as anti-frivolous as you could imagine banning liquor and dancing at all Presidential functions. Definitely not foot loose.

Zachary Taylor. (1849-1850). Our twelfth President spent only 16 months in office before passing away. His party didn’t fare much better. After selecting Taylor, an inexperienced, unqualified, wealthy outsider to be its nominee, many party members questioned how their party could compromise its ideals, trading the path to victory over party principles. (Sound familiar?) The American Whig Party, known for its ideological principle of elevating Congress over the Presidency, fractured by internal arguments became irrelevant by 1854. Oh, what did in President Taylor? Maybe it was bad milk, it might have been spoiled vegetables, possibly it was heat stroke, or it could have been arsenic. The first three were considered in 1850 when he died. The last was proposed in 1991 when his body was exhumed and tested for poisoning. He wasn’t. Just unlucky.

Millard Fillmore. (1850-1853). Millard Fillmore very seldom gets his name printed on anything so I’ll use his full name at least twice here. Oh heck, how about three times. Millard Fillmore didn’t really do anything as President. He was actually called a secondhand president by one of his own staff.

Franklin Pierce. (1853-1857). The “Hero of many a well fought bottle,” Pierce was known to have a drink. Pretty much one long drink throughout the four years of his Presidency.

James Buchanan. (1857-1861). Buchanan, perhaps undeservedly, is considered the worst President to have served. His critics base this by saying he set the stage for the American Civil War. Indeed, it was the Supreme Court that ruled Congress had no power to deprive slaveholders of their property rights. That led the Democratic Party to push for the separation of northern and southern states and Buchanan argued, rather weakly, that although the states had no right to secede, the government couldn’t stop them.

Abraham Lincoln. (1861-1865). Although a member of the new Republican Party and a political conservative supporting many of the former Whig ideals including the censure of some individual states’ failure to decry the abuses of slaves even if not specifically supporting slavery itself, and a return to nationalism, Lincoln was also considered a classic liberal opposing artificial hierarchies and a champion of human liberties. His is considered by many to be the greatest American President and when many polls ranked the top three Presidents it was always Lincoln one and Washington, and Franklin Roosevelt trading two and three. Unfortunately his one escape from his arduous Presidency was the theater.

Andrew Johnson. (1865-1869). Johnson was an unusual successor to the Presidency. He was a Democrat serving as the Republican Lincoln’s Vice President. And he was a Southerner (from Tennessee) who did not join the Confederacy. In 1864 when Lincoln was preparing for his second election, he replaced his then Vice President, Hannibal Hamlin, with Johnson as his running mate considering Johnson as a unifying figure to the War Democrats. When Lincoln was assassinated just 6 weeks after his second inauguration Johnson got to practice his unifying skills. He used those to oversee the reconstruction of the Union though not always in concert with the plans of Congress for reconstruction.  Did I mention he was the first President to be impeached?

Ulysses S. Grant. (1869-1877). U. S. Grant absolutely paints a picture of the U. S. in the west during the 1800’s. Rough, ready for anything, and raring to go! But…Ulysses Simpson Grant isn’t the name he was born with. That would be Hiram Ulysses Grant. It seems somewhere at the U. S. Military Academy at West Point a document ended up identifying him as Ulysses Simpson Grant. Rather than take a semester off to have the paperwork corrected, Cadet Grant adopted his new name and carried on.

Rutherford B. Hayes. (1877-1881). So you think some people were shocked when they woke up the day after the election in 2016? You should have been around in 1876. That was back when the state election committees really did use the popular vote to appoint electors and the electors who voted for the President were really considered the people to actual elect the President. And everybody was fine with that. It was also a time that state election committees often didn’t always consider the popular vote when appointing electors depending on who they wanted to see elected as President. To make a long story short, when three of the then 38 states appeared to have confirmed voter fraud and others had challenges made in their electoral appointments, Congress set up an electoral commission to resolve the conflicts. Still with challenges from both parties the commission, through a series of several votes and finally by March 2 just two days before the scheduled inauguration, Hayes was awarded the disputed states and won the election. He pledged not to run for reelection. Whew!

James A. Garfield. (March 1881-September 1881). Although President Tyler was called “His Accidency” following his rise to the office upon Harrison’s death forty years earlier, Garfield really got to the office (or at least the nomination) by accident. He was actually the campaign manager for then Secretary of the Treasury John Sherman. Through 35 ballots neither Sherman, nor rivals U. S. Grant and James Blaine could secure the nomination. On the 36th ballot Garfield was selected as a compromise candidate. He went on to defeat Winfield Scott Hancock (who at least had a sufficient number of last names to be President) and is noted for proposing the Civil Service Reform Act calling for federal jobs to be awarded based on merit not political ties. That could have been his demise. Just six months after taking office Garfield was assassinated by Charles Guiteau. Since there was little radio or television in the nineteenth century, politicians used professional speech makers to spread their platforms to the masses when and where they could not speak themselves. Guiteau was one of these, though not a very often used. He still felt his contribution to Garfield’s election win was enough to earn him an appointment in the American embassy in Paris, a position for which he clearly was not qualified. Although he spoke for Garfield he personally supported Chester A. Arthur and his opposition to civil service reform. Guiteau was convinced that he did not get the appointment because of this and that the only way to end the party internal conflicts was to see that Garfield was eliminated. On July 2, 1881, he shot Garfield twice, once in the back where the bullet was never able to be retrieved. After 78 days of partial paralysis, fevers, and finally pneumonia, Garfield died, the second President to be assassinated.

Chester A. Arthur. (1881-1885). A true accident, Chester A. Arthur gets my vote for worst President, but that’s a different post. A New York socialite, he managed to wrangle the nomination for Vice President through political cronyism, the antithesis of his President, James Garfield. Everyday dinners at the Arthur White House typically consisted of 14 course meals with up to eight different wines accompanying various courses. State dinners ballooned to 21 courses. He hired Louis Comfort Tiffany to redecorate the White House (he was quoted in the New York World “You have no idea how depressing and fatiguing it is to live in the same house where you work,”) and was the first President to hire a personal valet. Yet somehow he never got around to appointing a Vice President upon his ascendency to the number one job.

Grover Cleveland. (1885-1889 and 1893-1897). The only President to be elected to non-consecutive terms, Cleveland is best known for being the only President to be elected to non-consecutive terms.

Benjamin Harrison. (1889-1893). Finally a Harrison got to serve a full term. The grandson of William Henry Harrison (of the 32 day Presidency) won the electoral vote but not the popular vote (not the first and not the last to do that) and got to be sworn in 100 years to the day that George Washington took the first oath of office for that, um, office. Four year after defeating Grover Cleveland he lost to Grover Cleveland.

Grover Cleveland. (Again). Oh, yeah. See above.

William McKinley (1897-1901).  William McKinley was a very popular President in his time. He won both his elections easily and had support of his major proposals from both Congress and the public. Like Lincoln he had one quirk though his was not an escape from the rigors of the office. McKinley’s quirk was his lucky carnation. He always sported a red carnation in his lapel. While attending the Pan-American Exposition on September 6, 1901, he took his carnation from his jacket and gave it to a little girl who met him in a receiving line. Seconds later, Leon Czolgosz reached the front of the line and shot the President in the abdomen twice. McKinley died eight days later. After his conviction of assassinating the President, Czolgosz said, “I killed the President because he was the enemy of the good people – the good working people. I am not sorry for my crime.”

Theodore Roosevelt. (1901-1909). A consummate alpha male, Teddy Roosevelt (TR to his friends and frenemies), climbed the Matterhorn in 1881, herded his own cattle on his North Dakota ranch, resigned as Assistant Secretary of the Navy to form the Rough Riders to fight in the Spanish American War, swam the Potomac almost daily during his Presidency, and tried to join the Navy six years after leaving office. But he had his softer side. In 1906 he received the Nobel Peace Prize for having negotiated peace in the Russo-Japanese War at the Treaty of Portsmouth in November 1905.

William Howard Taft. (1909-1913). A big name for a big man, Taft weighed in at 300 pounds on his inauguration, after losing 60 pounds for it. He holds the distinction of being the only President to continue to serve after leaving office, then as a Supreme Court Justice. After taking the oath of office himself he got to swear in two other Presidents, Coolidge and Hoover, while serving as Chief Justice.

Woodrow Wilson. (1913-1921). Wilson looked like the PhD professor that he was. Big ears, strong jaw, pointy nose, and a perpetual scowl gave him the appearance of a banker who would foreclose on a widow with 5 children on Christmas Eve. He was the second American President to receive the Nobel Peace Prize for his efforts in working out the World War I peace treaty and proposed League of Nations, the predecessor organization to the United Nations joined by 42 countries but not the United States.

Warren G. Harding. (1921-1923). Harding entered the Presidency during the first full year of American prohibition. But that didn’t stop him from celebrating his inauguration with whiskey, wine, and beer. The model of hypocrisy he voted for Prohibition while a Senator but kept a fully stocked bar in the Oval Office, partied publicly with his wife of 32 years but was known to have at least 7 mistresses and children by at least two of them, never made political enemies because he never took a firm stand on anything. Though not the worst President he is certainly right up there.

Calvin Coolidge. (1923-1929). Nicknamed Silent Cal, Coolidge’s sobriquet may have been not so appropriate. Although he wrote his own speeches and he kept them short, he delivered more speeches that any other President thus far in the twentieth century and his inauguration speech was the third longest in history missing out on the silver medal to Polk by only about 800 words. (Nobody came close to William Henry Harrison’s 8400+ word behemoth, better than doubling Coolidge’s comparatively modest 4055 word address.

Herbert Hoover. (1929-1933). Although he was active in politics and served as Commerce Secretary under Harding and Coolidge, the Presidency was Hoover’s first elected office. He won in a landslide on the platform of continued prosperity. Less than a year later the stock market crashed and the Great Depression ensued. His bid for reelection resulted in a landslide loss.

Franklin D. Roosevelt. (1933-1945). The only President to serve (though not the only to try) more than two terms, Franklin Roosevelt is considered by many to be one of the greatest Presidents. He reversed the depression, repealed prohibition, established the Social Security Administration and federal minimum wage, was instrumental in the formation of the United Nations, and partied like Julius Cesar at his toga themed 52nd birthday party at the White House. You can’t top that!

Harry S. Truman. (1945-1953). It’s hard to find anything quirky about America’s 33rd President. Except for his unique turns of phrase. We’re all familiar with “If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen,” and  “It is amazing what you can accomplish if you do not care who gets the credit.” But he also made it known that “Everybody has the right to express what he thinks. That, of course, lets the crackpots in. But if you cannot tell a crackpot when you see one, then you ought to be taken in.” And “When the Liberals said they were going to create a million new jobs, I didn’t think they were all going to be tax collectors.” My favorite is, “Work Hard. Do your best. Keep your word. Never get too big for your britches. Trust in God. Have no fear; and Never forget a friend.”

Dwight D. Eisenhower. (1953-1961). The 1950s – the time of Father Knows Best, Make Room for Daddy, Ozzie and Harriet, and Leave It to Beaver. Suburbia at its finest. Although elected as a war hero, Ike’s contributions were very family oriented. He was responsible for the Interstate Highway Act, the Civil Rights Acts of 1957 and 1960, and was the first President to provide funding to education at all levels from the federal government. Just like their TV counterparts the Eisenhowers worked hard then he played golf and she made fudge and they both played bridge.

John F. Kennedy. (1961-1963). Nobody wants to hear a Kennedy quirk. It was the time of Camelot in America.  Every woman wanted to be Jackie, Every man, Jack. On his 21st birthday Kennedy received $1 million from his father (that’s about $16,450,000 today). Now there’s something everybody can relate to. Kennedy’s problems basically amounted to too much money, too many friends, too many women, and too little time.

Lyndon B. Johnson. (1963-1969).  At his ranch outside of Austin, Texas sits a pillow embroidered with, “This is my ranch and I do as I damn please.” And that’s how he ruled.

Richard M. Nixon. (1969-1974). “I am not a thief.” Ok.

Gerald R. Ford. (1974-1977). Probably the first President that American comics made fun of. Before that Presidents were laughed with. Gerry got laughed at. Senator Bob Doyle said in 1976, “He was a friend to everyone who met him. He has no enemies.” And with friends like the American public, who needed enemies. After five and a half years of Tricky Dicky, the media needed someone they could screw before they got screwed. And they picked on Ford, the only man to serve as President without being elected President or Vice President. He was appointed after Spiro Agnew resigned. A year later he was being sworn in as President after Nixon resigned. Talk about a tough act to follow. For a man who had no enemies he was the victim of two assassination attempts. With friends like those…

Jimmy Carter. (1977-1981). He lusted in his heart. Uh huh. But he did win a Nobel Peace Prize.

Ronald Reagan. (1981-1989). Elected to the Presidency at age 69 he had already had three other careers before adding chief executive to his resume. Everyone knew about his bowl of jelly beans on the desk in the Oval Office but one of his favorite mealtime foods was macaroni and cheese and he held a fondness for hamburger soup. He was also fond of earlobes and often held them too.

George H. W. Bush. (1989-1993). Daddy Bush, Vice President for both of Reagan’s terms and Director of the CIA before that and Ambassador to the United Nations before that was no stranger to the diplomatic world. So he probably was really embarrassed when he threw up at a Japanese state dinner. It was the flu, not the sushi.

William Jefferson Clinton. (1993-2001). He lusted with more than his heart. But he didn’t inhale. Wink, wink.

George W. Bush (2001-2009).  For a President considered so horrible by his political enemies he was ranked mid-pack (20 out of 41 in 2000 (no word on the other three at the time)) by a poll of C-Span watchers, those intrepid folks who watch Congress on TV, and was elected twice by the intrepid folks who vote. Oh well, everyone has a bad day. Even Congressional TV viewers and voters.

Barack Obama. (2009-2017). Before he became the fourth President to become a Nobel Peace Prize winner, before he introduced his signature health care reform bill, before he became Senator from Illinois, before Michelle was his boss at a law firm in Chicago, before he was rejected as a model for a pin-up calendar at Harvard, before he owned a pet gorilla, before he came off Mount Tantulus, he was Barry of the “Choom Gang.” And he inhaled. And more. And still more. And more again.

Donald J. Trump. (2017-TBD). If nothing else he is responsible for more people being able to spell “xenophobe” than Scripps or Howard.

That’s a lot of quirks for a lot of people. Since 1789 forty five Presidents have occupied the White House. (Actually, forty-four, Washington’s official residence was in New York since Washington the city wasn’t done yet.) (Who else by Americans would build a new city for their leader? Now there’s a quirk!) In that same time, England who was bested for control of those famous colonies way back then, has had nine royal monarchs. Maybe their system is better. But then they’ve had 61 Prime Minister’s since 1789, so…maybe not.

Happy Weirdos Day!

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

Photo: National Park Service, U. S. Department of the Interior

Half-Baked

I baked cookies yesterday. Hold your applause. They were just oatmeal cookies. Oatmeal cookies are like the Blue Apron of the baking world. No thought required. The most difficult step is finding the measuring cups.

You all already know I enjoy my time in the kitchen but it’s almost always cooking. Baking is a whole different animal. It requires measuring stuff, preheating the oven, using the timer even. As a person who spent his whole career in a regimented, scientific occupation you’d think the most comfortable thing I could do in the kitchen is fall into the baking regimen. Nope, I prefer the loosey-goosey world of cooking.

Maybe that’s because I enjoy the freedom of modifying the dish I’m working on based on what’s fresh, what’s handy, what’s tasting good. Maybe it’s because most of the dishes I started out cooking were family recipes which changed as the family moved from Italy to America and ingredients changed based on what was available. Or maybe it was because some of those recipes were written in a combination of Italian and English and we weren’t always sure what was supposed to go into that pot so we improvised.

Or maybe that’s because it’s just the way I’m wired.

While I was deciding if I wanted to weigh or measure my dry ingredients I did some thinking about just that. Does our personality reflect our cooking style – and shouldn’t it also compare to our chosen lifestyle? Here’s what I came up with.  . . .  Maybe.

Take me for the first example. Even though I decided on keeping the wolves from my door in the highly regulated, policed, and exacting world of health care I tend to keep most of the rest of my life in the “let’s see what’s up” end of the spectrum. Back in the day when I actually made plans my idea of making plans (unless it involved non-refundable air fare), was “hey I heard about blah-blah-blah on the radio this morning, let’s go!” Thus my life in the kitchen is more a matter of “hmm, I wonder what’s in the refrigerator that hasn’t changed color yet, let’s eat!” And 9,999 times out of 10,000 it will be good.

Consider the ex. I’ll not be bad-mouthing anybody here. I’m just using her as an example. Her idea of spontaneous was using only two sources of information for research on a place, restaurant, movie, or wall-covering. But boy could she bake. Pies, cakes, breads, cookies. If it involved a rolling pin (no, I won’t go there), she had it mastered.

Now, let’s look at the daughter. The mix of the aforementioned Thing One and Thing Two. On one hand she’s creative enough to have selected one of the most imaginative fields you can imagine to make a living at and is making a living at it. On the other, she’s making a living at it by working for herself and manages to handle all the requirements of self-employment successfully enough to still make a living at it. Her style in the kitchen? She can bake a mall-worthy cinnamon roll in the morning and finesse her way through a dinner for four with whatever might be in the pantry after not shopping for two weeks in the evening.  Living at both poles and baking and cooking with aplomb.

I guess that’s make her sort of a hybrid.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

Once Upon a Time They Lived Happily Ever After

Ahhh. Valentine’s Day is here. Called the most romantic day of the year, around six million Americans will become engaged tomorrow. But that won’t be the biggest day of the year for that. That distinction belongs to Christmas. Christmas and Christmas Eve actually. It depends on which day you unwrap your presents. Since there is not a Valentine’s Eve to spread the festivities over, either you’re going to be romantic on the 14th or you wait till Easter and work a ring into an egg I suppose.

snowpeopleIt’s fitting that Christmas and Valentine’s share people’s affection for romance, or at least for a desire to formally get together. Both celebrations focus on love. Unfortunately, when you don’t have a focus for your love on Valentine’s Day you probably notice it more.

As a guy, I know about losing your focus. We do it with alarming regularity. No offense to the gay community but if it wasn’t for men screwing up relationships with women, the romantic comedy movie genre would be a wasteland. It’s the perfect formula – boy meets girl, boy does something incredibly stupid, boy loses girl, boy apologizes, girl gives boy second chance, boy and girl live happily ever after or until the sequel whichever comes first. Art mimics life. Actually, that’s not the formula. Usually it’s boy does something credibly stupid. The incredible part is how often girl gives boy that second chance.

Another somewhat ominous tie between Christmas and Valentine’s is the anti-romance factor. January is the most popular month for divorce filings. Apparently those Christmas/New Year’s/Holiday parties are the perfect settings for boy does something credibly stupid and girl doesn’t fancy that second chance. But the power of Valentine’s Day shows itself in that a good chunk of those filings are withdrawn by the end of February. And the better part of those reconciliations never end up at the Clerk of Courts office again. Perhaps the mid-February apology is stronger than the end of December transgression.

No other time of the year displays as great a forgiveness factor than the Valentine season.heart So my advice to any guys reading this (and that includes any guys whose girls have not so surreptitiously passed this under their noses), is don’t wait for the boy does something stupid step and move right to boy apologizes. Heavens know we’ve done something stupid whether girl noticed it or not. If you really have any desire to move onto boy and girl live happily ever after, don’t take any chances. Make love, not excuses.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

Once and For All

Yesterday’s mail included a post card with large letters screaming to me “Quit smoking now…for once and for all!” Once and for all is a strange sentiment. I remember that phrase from my mother using it mostly when talking about things that happen more than once because they don’t last for all. Typically something like “I’m telling you for once and for all to get in there and clean up your room.”

That post card didn’t encourage me to clean my room. But that probably wasn’t its intention. It didn’t encourage me to stop smoking either, nor to sign up for the very successful (in its words) smoking cessation program it was hawking. Why not? Because I don’t smoke. A run of the mill solicitation for behavior modification may not know that but my own insurance company should, especially since every time I fill out one of their health questionaires I check “no ” where they ask about smoking.

Last week I got an email from my cable company encouraging me to consider paying my bill electronically. I can save time and money it explained if I would pay my monthly fees using a computer instead of a checkbook. I’m not convinced that it takes less time to open a browser than to open a checbook or if the saving money refers to the one postage stamp a month I can rescue from the clutches of the mailman that comes to a whopping 4 bucks a year is worth the effort. Butler  I am convinced that I already pay them using a monthly auto draft that takes me no time (and saves me at least 4 dollars a year (woohoo)) and they should know that.

About a month ago I was multitasking by watching TV, reading emails and intermittently dozing in my recliner. I opened an email asking me to complete a survey on new trends in technology. Since I was in one of my non-dozing periods I thought I would and clicked on the link in the email – on my tablet. It directed me to a page that read “Were sorry, this survey does not support mobile devices.” Hmm, the survey on new trends in technology doesn’t support the old tablet technology.

It seems to me that there is a lot of information about us that “service” providers have that they must not realize what they have. Or don’t care. Could it be that exemplifies the rest of their service also? Maybe they should reconsider that. For once and for all.

That’s what I think. Really. How ’bout you?

What Gimbels Didn’t Tell Macy

Last weekend I had the occasion to hold a credit card in my hand. It was my own. No need to call out the diversion police. And indeed I’ve held it once or twice before. Usually the only time we hold a card is when we swipe it through or slot it into a card reader. But this time I had to actually pay some attention to it. I was ordering something on line and, no matter how politely they ask, I won’t allow a merchant or browser to store my card information. Call me old fashioned. Anyway, it was while I reading it, or I should say struggling to read it, that I thought how little these little chunks of plastic have changed in the 40ish years that I’ve been carrying one.

The first card I carried was for Gimbels department stores. You might remember Gimbels
from the movie “Miracle on 34th Street” as the main competitor to R. H. Macy and his juggernaut of an outlet that doubled as a destination to New York’s second oldest gimbelsThanksgiving Day parade. Gimbels beat him by four years on that one. Again anyway, my Gimbels card had none of the modern improvements like the RFID chip and magnetic strip, the issuer ID and hologram, the CVV (that three or f
our digit number on the back that is supposed to mean you have the card in your possession but everybody wants when you aren’t in their company), or even a signature strip and expiration date. Nope, all it had was my account number and name. In that same embossed type that today’s “modern” cards use.

That’s why I was struggling so hard to read that credit card this weekend. It was those silly embossed characters. They start out in a different color than the body of the card but after a while (like a few hours) of being carried around in a wallet, that color wears off and all you are left with are the raised ghosts of the numbers identifying your account number and expiration date. Fortunately I know my name. With all the advancements made on that little piece of plastic why are they still using raised letters for the most important characters on the card? Well, it seems they are still about, and still being used I would imagine if they are about. And the it are credit card machines. Not the reader thingies you slide your magnetic stripped equipped card through. The imprinter thingies that run an ink-covered roller over the card.

If you are old enough you might remember one like  this:

imprinter2

But I remember one like his:

imprinter1

From where do I remember such a dinosaur? From Gimbels, of course. The only reason I had that early card was because that was my in-the-summer-and-on-breaks-and-vacation job during college. You don’t think they’d give a 20 year old a credit card unless they were controlling his income, do you? Back then, twienty wasn’t even old enough to vote. No, I’m not kidding all you 18 to 20 year olds out there. But for a third time anyway, while I was struggling trying to read those horrible raised numbers I suddenly remembered those old imprinters. And that got me wondering if they were still out there. That was the only reason anyone could imagine still embossing the name and number on a modern credit card. Since I have that kind of time, I checked. Indeed you can still buy a credit card imprinter (both styles even) if you were in I would imagine a rather vintage retail business and really wanted to carry on the nostalgic feeling.

For the zillions of us who really don’t care about nostalgia carried to that extreme perhaps the next time I’m due for a new card, Capital One will issue me one with a printed number that I can actually read.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

Brutalbee Honest

Don’t be shocked. I may get a little ranty here. I try to be fair and respectful to everybody regardless of their views. But things I’ve heard in the media lately have gotten me over my edge. One thing I insist on is honesty. At lest from my food.  Apparently food feels it no longer feels it has to hold up its end of the deal.

Once upon a time, honesty in food was a given. “I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter” took honest to the brutal level. (And now that I think about it, I can’t begin to count the number of women who I’ve tried to tell that honesty doesn’t have to be brutal.) (But I digress.)  But at least the Not Butter people were honest enough so that if you did pick up a stick or two of the stuff you didn’t expect it to be butter. After all, Not Butter is right in the name.

honeybeeOk, food hasn’t always been honest. Sweetbreads don’t come from the bakery. Head cheese doesn’t start out as milk. Neither does soy milk. And don’t bother to bring up lady fingers. But for the most part when you  see something that isn’t it usually says so, like salt substitute or butter flavor popcorn.

However, this latest aberration in food dishonesty has gone too far. Apparently the latest craze is beeless honey. Not only are the proponents of this deviation from good taste (and from good tasting food) dishonest, they claim that this, this, this stuff is protecting the bees. And what are they making this misrepresentation from? Apples. Bananas. Dates. Flax seed oil. All good stuff (well, three out of four) but nothing that could keep a bee buzzing for very long. If you want to sell fruit paste than make it the best tasting fruit paste you can and give it a catchy name like Kit Kat, A1, V8, New Coke. But please, leave the honey business to the experts. Honestly.

No, honesty.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

PS: Happy Groundhog Day!

Prepping for Punxsutawney

Last week I was watching a hockey game and heard mention that somebody’s back-up goal keeper is from North Pole, Alaska.  What struck me was the North Pole part. Obviously because not even a week later do I remember the who or even the team. That North Pole part struck me because I know that Alaska doesn’t make it to the North Pole. So, I just had to look it up, because, after all, – all together now – I have that kind of time. Seems that North Pole isn’t along Alaska’s northern shore, not in the northern counties, not even in the northern half of the state. It’s a suburb of Fairbanks. Now how about that. That’s almost akin to false advertising naming North Pole North Pole when it’s around 1,700 miles south of the North Pole.

I must be going somewhere with this, you muse. And you muse correctly. It got me thinking about some of the names we call our hamlets. And the hamlet I thought of first, because it will be a Mecca for about 100,000 more people than just me this Thursday, is Punxsutawney. Even the most irregular of regular readers know I have a special fondness for Groundhog Day and the festivities that will take place at that Western Pennsylvania village. Punxsutawney Phil is so dear to me that his was the first picture to accompany a post on this blog.  (See “Six Weeks,” Feb. 2, 2012.) (If you want, it doesn’t have anything to do with this post but it still makes interesting reading.) (Well, I think it’s interesting but then I think the other 9 or 10 posts that mention Groundhog Day are interesting also.) (Actually I think all of the posts are more than fairly interesting or I wouldn’t have posted them now would have I?) (Or darn, I did it again. Where was I?)

20170129_175057All that thinking about North Pole, Alaska and how names are given to places got me thinking about just what “Punxsutawney” means. So I looked that up too. It means “land of the sandflies.” Punxsutawney was a 1700 era settlement of the Delaware nation and presumably named by them. I’m not really in a place to question their observations and aptitude for naming places, but I don’t understand how a clearing on the edge of the Allegheny Forrest, in the mountains, over 300 miles from any ocean, over 900 miles to any water hot enough to have a sand beach presumably with flies, could be considered the “land of the sandflies.”  The “land of” would indicate that whatever comes after “of” is so indigenous to that area that one cannot think of the “land” without automatically thinking of the “of.” I don’t know about you but Punxsutawney Sandflies doesn’t fall from my lips instinctively.  Not even the local high school picked the sandfly as its mascot even considering the origin of its town’s moniker. (In fact, they are the Punxsutawney Chucks, as in woodchucks, as in groundhog.)

And there we are, back to the groundhog and Punxsutawney Phil and Groundhog Day. And I am positively thrilled that inhabitants of the “land of the sandflies” got over that as quickly as they did. In time somebody noted that February 2 was midway between the Winter Solstice and the Spring Equinox and was ideal for predicting the severity of the balance of the season so the spring plantings could be planned. And no animal was better suited to make that prediction than the humble groundhog.

And now I know how Punxsutawney got its name. And so do you. Aren’t you glad you read all the way through? Yes you are.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

You Can’t Fool Mother Nature

I’m sure wherever you are you are having a more traditional winter than I am where I are – err, am. (Southern hemisphere residents please just bear with me here for this post.) (Thank you.)

We started out the season with a bang and a 5 to 6 inch snowfall. In November. Then even though the temps got colder and colder, cold enough you really didn’t need a refrigerator to keep your holiday leftovers provided you had an animal-proof deck or back porch, the only other thing that fell were some flurries and one wicked ice storm. Then the calendar turned to January and the weather turned spring like.

Now you have to understand that the Farmers’ Almanac did not prepare me for this. There the experts predicted an average winter. Nor were the local weather forecast bumblers any more accurate also claiming this season was going to be typical. And less than 60 miles from here at the local ski resorts there is an abundance of snow and not all of it is man made – although they are about a half mile closer to the clouds.

Normally I would be grateful for a few weeks of warmth in January even if it did mean rain instead of snow, especially now that the car has to sit outside and would require cleaning off every time I wanted to go somewhere like another doctor appointment. But this year I’m feeling somewhat guilty basking in all this overcast while so much of the rest of the country and the world is having a greater than typical winter for their locales.

Not to be completely spared closed roads, downed trees, flooding, and rockslides, the averages caught up with us here this week. Rivers spilled over their banks on the weekend, hillsides loosened their rocks in three seperate slides on three separate days, and stores and highways are as jammed as on those days that snow falls faster than the plows can pick it up.

Fortunately there hadn’t been any injuries, the only damage being property. I guess someone looked at us and wondered why we were out and about in windbreakers and sunglasses. Hopefully next month we can get back to average.

And God bless everybody around the world who has been subjected to winter’s rath. May next month defy your weather experts. In a good way.

That’s what I think. Really. How ’bout you?