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Let Me Sleep on That

Michael Leave a comment

I had a great idea for a blog post. Unfortunately, I had it while I was asleep. Maybe “great idea” isn’t quite the right way to put that. Everything I post is real, hence the title “The Real Reality Show Blog.” This is really real. But not everything is blogworthy. (By the way, did you know that “blogworthy” passes the spell-check test? That could be blogworthy in itself.) And not everything that is blogworthy lends itself to a blog. But enough times, something happens that makes a great post. And then something happens to actually make me able to write about it.

Sometimes that something is a bit of work. I mull it over, run it through my brain, try out a phrase or two, and somehow remember it when I sit down in front of the computer where it can fall out of my head through my fingers onto the screen. One of those times was sometime last week. It was a great idea and it just about wrote itself completely in my head. Had I had a computer in front of me I could have walked away with a completed post in just a few minutes. But what I had in front of me was a pair of closed eyelids. And behind them was what turned out to be a faulty memory.

I have absolutely no idea what I was thinking or dreaming or meditating or whatever it is one does on the edge of sleep. All I remember is that I woke up thinking “that would be a great blog!” I just had no idea what “that” was.

Some people can remember every little thing they dream. They’re probably the same persons who know everything that is in their refrigerators. They can relate them at lunch to everybody at the office in excruciating detail.  (That would be their dreams, not their refrigerator contents but probably those, too.) On particularly good days they even come with critiques of the main characters in their mental movies. I can do that only if I have a particularly spicy enchilada with multiple beers after 9pm. Then I either wake up remembering my dreams or remembering an actual altercation in the parking lot between my untied shoe and a telephone pole. Neither makes for a great idea for a blog post although the shoe lace bear some promise.

So whatever it was it isn’t going to be. And instead of a great blog post, you get this. Sorry.

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

Have I Got a Deal for You

Michael 1 Comment

Last weekend my daughter was lamenting the fact that the stores were starting to advertise fall fashions. Fortunately, she reported, they were also beginning summer clearances so it wasn’t all that terrible that the season was being rushed along a bit.

It’s always been that way. Valentine specials show up right after New Year’s; Easter Sales go on sale in February; Memorial Day Specials pop up in early April; Fourth of July Sales are here and gone by Flag Day; Labor Day Back to School Sales get started at the end of July; Halloween candy is displayed around the start of the school year; Black Friday opens around Halloween; Christmas Sales deck the shelves on Columbus Day; and the End of the Year Clearance flyers hit the mailboxes a week before Thanksgiving.  Next year will probably start a week earlier.

It’s not necessarily a bad thing. It really does become a plus when you can buy this season’s fashions at bargain basement prices while still in the season. But then does that mean the demise of bargain basements?

I suppose that bargain basements are already dead. And that’s a shame. They used to be THE place to shop for the folks who couldn’t afford Saks, Lord and Taylor, or Tiffany. And back a generation or two that was almost everybody. The bargain basements were where back to school meant it didn’t have to be hand-me-downs, where grills and patio furniture and outdoor life came to life for middle class America, where Christmas got to overflow from each child’s stocking.  They might have all been the previous year’s fashion but who cared. Jeans were jeans, chairs were chairs, and toys were toys. And all of them hidden away in the department stores’ lowest levels. Even when the big retailers moved to the suburban shopping centers there still was a certain square footage devoted to the bargain basement.

Now the bargains are relegated to a few clearance racks pushed to the back of a department, behind next season’s meticulous displays. They are a few handfuls of what didn’t sell, the few pieces management is willing to part with this season rather than storing in back rooms to be brought out next year or auctioned off to remainder stores.

Those days of the bargain basements were the days when real savings were passed to the public. Today if you want a real savings you have to know where your closest time machine dealer is. Of course, if he’s not running any good specials when you get there, ask for a test drive and go back one holiday. You’ll find your deal there. Or is that then?

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

Forget About It

Michael Leave a comment

I cleaned out my desk last week. Not the one at work. That one was cleaned out last summer on my last day. Not the one in my home office. That one was cleaned out of anything of value years ago and the whole room took on more of a storage quality. Well, that sounds too neat. It sort of became a junk drawer with expandable walls. No, the one I cleaned out was the one I use almost every day. It’s the spot where bills are paid, receipts are kept, coupons are sorted, and important papers are stored. After almost thirty years I figured it was time to do some thinning.

Geez, you should have seen the stuff I dug out of those drawers. If they could only talk maybe they’d tell me what I was doing with some of that. There was once a time when I spoke at a lot of conferences and that time reached back to before we put our slide shows on a flash drive and used real slides. For some reason I decided to keep those slides but couldn’t imagine what that reason was. Out they went. Over the years the bank I deal with has been bought, sold, and/or changed names. Several times. Lots of several times. And each time they felt it necessary to change account numbers and thus change checks. And I found all the old checks. Not cancelled ones to prove when I paid for the coffee grinder so I could take advantage of the 90 day warranty. These were the unused leftover checks the bank said not to use after some specific date usually 2 or 3 days before the letter from them was received. I couldn’t recall any good reason why I would have kept checks just as useless as if there was no money in the bank. To the shredder they went. I also uncovered eight (yes, 8) pages of return address labels, 200 labels per sheet, each page with 4 to 6 labels used and the other 190-some waiting patiently to be stuck on an envelope. That was over 1500 return labels. Apparently I paid my monthly bills, did not remember that I had labels somewhere, and printed another page. Several pages found themselves on the inside of the recycle bin.

But the point of today’s post isn’t pre-hoarding proclivities I may be demonstrating. It’s the tale of a specific piece of paper, a single page of a simple form to reclaim lost money. In our state, any sort of property held by an institution in a person’s name is turned over to the state treasury if said person has forgotten about said property. Before it becomes part of the general fund and disappears forever into the current year’s pool for graft, the state conducts a search for the rightful owner. Quite some few years ago I was the rightful owner of an account forgotten at a credit union. Amazingly, years’ worth of fees had not depleted the balance to nothing and there was still money to be reclaimed.

Reclaiming it was easy. All one had to do was prove one was the one being sought and one owned that which was the reason for the seeking. Easy enough, a state issued ID such as a driver’s license is sufficient to prove who I was, or am.  And a copy of a statement from the credit union showing my name and address was sufficient to prove ownership. Hmm, now I began to remember why I had forgotten about this form those many years ago. I actually had a statement from the credit union even though it has been many, many years since I had dealt with them. But that statement had an address three addresses old. According to the nice lady who answered the phone at the state treasury it is a simple process to prove I am that person who lived at the address three addresses ago. Just provide copies of the change of address requests for each change from that address to the one on my current ID.

So in order to get my own money back from the state I have to prove that I once held an account that I completely forgot about when I was living somewhere else in a different century.  I think I just might have remembered why I never finished that form.

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

It’s Taco Thursday!

Michael 1 Comment

Yes, I am quite aware that the entire rest of the world recognizes Taco Tuesday. But I post only on Monday and Thursday and Taco Monday sounds stupid even though I’m just as apt to eat a taco on a Monday as a Thursday or any other day of the week.

In fact, that’s the point of today’s post. And you thought this was going to be pointless like all the others. The point is I’m worrying myself a bit. I seem to have fallen into a taco trough. (That’s sort of like a taco rut but more alliterative.)  I really am apt to have a taco any day of the week and any time of any day. And not just tacos. Toss into that mix burritos, fajitas, and enchiladas, just about anything with meat and cheese in a tortilla and you have my diet from the past couple of weeks.

Lately I’ve had a lot of appointments and trying to do as much as I can around the house. For me that means I’m working sometimes up to two, maybe three hours a day. (I tire easily.) Standing in front of a stove isn’t on the list. Nor is on the list standing in front of the counter prepping something to go into the oven. A sandwich is quite doable, but who wants a steady diet of sandwiches? Thus, the taco. As quick as the sandwich but certainly more fun. And just as versatile.

Over the past week I’ve had a couple of breakfast burritos with scrambled eggs, sausage, peppers and onions, and tomatoes in a flour tortilla. I had a quick lunch of ham and cheese quesadilla, a fajita made from thinly sliced flank steak that I originally was going to use in a cheesesteak, grilled peppers and onions, some provolone cheese, and some tomato slices. I made a dinner of a soft corn tortilla with leftover pot roast and caramelized onions, cheddar cheese, Boston lettuce, and a splash of hot sauce. I even had a more traditional taco dinner with seasoned ground beef, jack cheese, lettuce, red onions, green peppers, and black olives.

All of that and there’s not a drop of Hispanic blood in me unless I got some during a transfusion. Still, the adaptable wraps of the southwest have been far outpacing my ingrained Italian cooking. This weekend I may have to make lasagna to re-center my chakra. Or maybe I’ll do layers of spiced chicken, cheese, and flour tortillas in an enchilada casserole instead. That’s pretty lasagna-like, don’t you think?

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

Can You Keep a Secret?

Michael 1 Comment

There is a weekly feature in one of our city’s newspapers where a local celebrity is interviewed in a basic high school journalism class format. You know – what’s your favorite movie, which is your favorite local sports team, what would you find in your glove compartment, what song always gets you on the dance floor. And even though the questions are pretty kitschy, it can make for some interesting reading on a light news day. Of course nobody ever answers all of the questions. Some almost famous people don’t want you to know that their first concert was Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention, so the “official” answer might be “Oh, I don’t go to concerts.” And many of them also don’t go to the movies, watch TV, dance when or when not anybody is watching, own glove compartments, have a favorite food, or a celebrity crush. But one thing every one of them has is a secret vice.

Now that’s odd. If you were to stop the average Jo and/or JoAnn on the street you’d find that most of us have a TV, go to movies, read books, and even sing in the shower. But asking for a secret vice is like asking if they know any good government secrets. Nobody would dare reveal his or her secret vice. Let me ask you, can you keep a secret? So can I!

That’s the difference between the famous and the ordinary. In a bid to appear just as ordinary, the famous fall over themselves trying to do something that the ordinary would never do. (I know, that’s a weird sentence but I tried writing it 4 or 5 different ways and believe it or not, that’s the best sounding one of the bunch.) See, the famous people want to appear to be just one of the average Joes, or JoAnns. They share their secrets with everybody and then when the tabloids make a big deal out of it they get all huffy.

So to make the famous people feel like one of us non-famous folks I’m going to do something I’d never ordinarily do. I’m going to reveal my secret vice. This will make any famous people reading this feel much better about connecting with ordinary people. My secret vice is…shhhh, keep it to yourself now…my secret vice is rippled potato chips with French onion dip. Always eaten alone. Never shared. One chip after another each dipped in that cool, savory, bitey flavored cream cheese based condiment until every last one out of the one pound bag is gone.

Wow! I feel so much better now. Almost famous even.

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

T(-Shirt) is for Thinking

Michael 2 Comments

I’m all for self-expression. I’ve expressed my approval of it already in several posts. Over the years we’ve written about expressing one-self in signs on our the walls (Walls O’ Wisdom, March 19, 2012) on license plates (UNDTSAY, April 2, 2012) and even on license plate frames (Mobile Philosophy, June 30, 2014). But the “selfest” of self-expression has to be the T-shirt. And by goodness there are some expressive ones out there!

I started wondering about this a couple of weeks ago. I was at the supermarket and was reminded of how nobody wears a plain collared shirt any more. Everything has something on it. Around here, the sports-minded person rarely goes out in public without declaring his or her devotion to some team or another. (See ‘Tis the Season – Summer 2014 Edition, July 28, 2014.) Coming on strong, though, are the shirts that spout his or her thoughts beyond championship seasons.

It always seems to be around the meat counter that I am struck by people’s clothing. This time it was a guy wearing a T-shirt that read “Lie Like You Mean It.” I found myself wondering if his wife gave it to him for his birthday. Two aisles over, another fellow sported “Drive It Like You Stole It.” Two shirts, two commandments. We were on a roll!

It wasn’t just the men – or maybe boys. A woman got me noticing her T-Shirt inscribed with the self-assured (self-)expression “I’m A Keeper.” Another had a more practical opinion to share. Her shirt read “If I Had Ruby Slippers I Wouldn’t Pick Kansas.” And my favorite was a lady mature enough to be in her retirement years seen at the deli counter, “Out To Lunch – Permanently!”

My walls are filled with boards and posters of seemingly clever sayings (Behind every great man is an enormous amount of caffeine); I actually have a custom license plate frame appropriate to an old geezer that I someday want to grow up to be (Aged to Perfection). I don’t have a vanity plate on the car but I have thought of it. But I can honestly say I’ve a veritable dearth of philosophical clothing.  The closest I come to is an old T-shirt proclaiming “I Fought the Lawn and the Lawn Won.” Actually, if you ever saw my lawn you’d realize that isn’t philosophical.  That’s the honest to gosh truth!

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

Weight Not, Want Not

Michael Leave a comment

Three years ago I said to myself, “Self,” I said, “you have got to lose some weight!” I was easily 50 pounds overweight. I not only was putting on pounds, I was losing height. The inches I lost going up and down found their way to my middle and went round and round. I recall when I was told I had to start getting in shape my stock answer was “round is a shape!” But truth be told, I felt pretty bad. I was always short of breath, I took elevators to go one floor (down, even), and my favorite place to go was the airport because there were people movers all over. If I had to walk all that way on my own I’d just sit and wait a while and eventually my breathing and heart rate would get back close to normal.

I was certain I could lose weight. I watched TV. I saw the ads for pills, exercise CDs, diet books, and portable gym equipment. In just 3 weeks, 6 weeks, 30 days, or 90 days I too could lose inches and pounds. I was ready to take all the “before” pictures if I could just bend over far enough to get the camera case off the floor. And if pills, exercise, and diet didn’t work – or didn’t get started – I had a secret weapon. I would monitor my portions and eat less. And I did. I only had one rack of ribs for dinner, half a chicken at one meal, only two appetizers even if the special was for three, and I always shared dessert. I rarely had soft drinks unless they were mixed with bourbon and I even started drinking light beer for a little while. Even with all that, I still didn’t lose weight. In fact, I gained! By the time that year was over I was exactly 100 pounds heavier than what the height/weight charts said I should have weighed.

Two years ago I said to myself, “Self,” I said, “this would be a whole lot easier if I wasn’t so fat.” The surgeon agreed with me but said I really needed to do this. So during the procedure to remove the cancer, all or part of a couple organs were removed. And finally I lost some weight. Since then I’ve had three more surgeries, five more hospitalizations, several outpatient procedures, and quite a bit more weight loss.

I am 90 pounds lighter than I was three years ago, only 10 pounds away from a goal I would have otherwise been proud to have reached. I still get short of breath and I still take elevators for just one floor. That’s because I can’t walk a flight of steps without becoming over-exerted. I’d like to take an “after” picture but when I get down to the floor I have to have somebody help me back up. Eventually the stamina will return, the flexibility will come back, and those last 10 pounds will disappear.

All I have to do is sit around and wait a while.

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

Support Your Local Garden

Michael Leave a comment

Locavores are not people who eat their neighbors. But they are people who eat their neighbors’ meat and produce. It’s not a new idea, it’s not a new term, it’s not a new fad. It’s as old as backyard gardens and farmers’ markets and the term was first used in 2005. It reached a milestone in 2013 when AqSuared released an iPhone app just in case you didn’t know what was in season around your home.

If you’re a food junkie and you spend some time watching TV or surfing the net in search of articles and shows built with foodies in mind, catch phrases are growing faster than zucchini during a hot summer. Locavore and Farm to Table are two of the hottest right now.  (Farm to Table is another not new idea going back to 2003 as a recognized “movement.”) Why are they so hot? Probably because it’s hot right now.

Everything tastes better in the summer. It should. That’s the peak growing and harvesting season for almost everything we eat that comes from the earth. It’s when farmer’s markets pop up in parking lots every week, when local coops are wholesaling produce to the local supermarkets and purveyors, and when a salad bar at the neighborhood restaurant isn’t such a bad thing after all. It makes you glad that somebody in the early 2000s was thinking we should eat local.

Wait a minute! In the early 2000s? How about in the early 1900s, 1800, 1700s even. I can’t speak personally of any of those but I can reach back to mid-twentieth century when my father and every other father in our little neighborhood turned most of their backyards into vegetable gardens. The dads would come home from work some spring day and plan the “patch.” That weekend, shovels, rakes, and hoes turned and prepared soil for seeds and seedlings. Daily watering and weeding was added to kids’ lists of chores from then through the summer months. Moms started planning for summer sides for those veggies put to immediate use and for canning, freezing, and otherwise preserving those grown in quantity for use during the fall and winter months.

Locavores claim “locally produced” means within 100 miles. Those old gardeners did it within 100 feet! Oh there is nothing like eating a tomato or an ear of corn that you picked up at a local farmers’ market from a real local farmer. But even they pale to the ones that grow outside your back door. Now that’s local!

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

To see a previous post on Farmers’ Markets, click here.

You Give Me 15 Minutes, I’ll Give You … You Know

Michael Leave a comment

This week among the junk mail was a notice of “Big Savings!” from a local car dealer. Right there with their tire specials, tune-ups specials, air conditioning service specials, and brake specials was their “Signature 29 Minute Oil Change” now at a special price. Isn’t that special? I don’t know why but it made me think why 29 minutes, why not a half hour? And then I thought even more. Whatever happened to the 15 minute oil change?

Surely you remember the 15 minute oil change places. There were lots of them and they were everywhere. I remember going to them. I also remember they always took more than 15 minutes. They spent at least 15 minutes on asking you what type of oil you wanted (if I knew that I’d do my own oil change), do you want your old filter or may they discard it (yuck!), will you be needing new windshield wipers today (I hope not, it’s a convertible and the top is down), would you be interested in joining their savings club (here’s a brochure you can read while we huddle around your car), and do you have any coupons (why do they always ask about couponS when they (the couponS) always say “cannot be combined?”). Then a squadron of oil changers descended on your vehicle checking tire pressure, topping off windshield washer fluid, cleaning headlights, checking coolant, transmission, steering and brake fluids, examining air filters, and changing the oil. Then another 15 minutes of post-change summary included the status of your fluids (always due for something), air filter (always dirty), windshield wipers (always worn), and tires (holding up pretty well and aren’t you lucky because we don’t sell them here).

Well, I’ve come up with some things that really do take only a quarter of an hour and make you better for them! For instance, in 15 minutes or less you can start an exercise program. You’ll notice general health improvements in most low to moderate impact exercises including walking. After a few weeks you may want to increase your activity time to 30 minutes but that’s still less time than it took to get a 15 minute oil change!

Staying with health, in less than 15 minutes you can check your blood pressure and pulse, and breathing rate and oxygen level at home. Every day if you want. Even young, seemingly healthy people can have high blood pressure and never know it. For a few dollars and a few minutes you can buy and use a blood pressure monitor that measures your pressure and heart rate. Another inexpensive tool is the pulse oximeter to measure how much oxygen is in your blood and you do it bloodlessly. This little thing does it by clamping onto your fingertip. Learning how to measure your breathing rate is easy. You probably already have everything you need – a watch with a second hand and your lungs.

A whole world of 15 minutes or less is right in your kitchen. A hot breakfast of ham and eggs or a bowl of oatmeal takes about as much time as it does to toast a bagel and find the cream cheese. You can make a whole light dinner in 15 minutes. Boil your favorite pasta in water for about a minute less than the package directions instruct. While that’s going on sauté sliced green peppers, and broccoli in olive oil, then add some spinach to wilt. Toss in your cooked pasta, top with shredded parmesan and you have a delicious pasta prima vera. If you’re willing to use a pre-made pizza shell or store bought dough you can shape, top, and bake a pizza, then let it rest for a few minutes while you make a small salad for the side and you have another dinner in half the time it takes to get one delivered. For something more fun, season one pound of ground beef with salt and pepper, add just a drizzle of olive oil, and splash in a couple of squirts of hot sauce.  Shape into four patties, grill or broil for 4 to 5 minutes on each side for medium and let rest for a couple minutes. While the patties are cooking, slice a few potatoes, toss with oil, and roast in a 400 degree oven for 12 minutes turning once. As soon as they come out, season with salt, pepper, paprika, Cajun seasoning, grated cheese, or whatever you and 3 friends feel like. Dinner for four and you didn’t give your guests enough time to talk about you.

And the ultimate less than 15 minute activity – reading this blog twice a week! Even a lengthy post like today’s takes maybe 5 minutes. Do that twice a week and you still have time to make a comment, smile, laugh, cry, or curse at your screen as appropriate, and/or scratch your head and wonder “who is this guy?”

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

The Second (and Third) Happiest Places in the World

Michael Leave a comment

Tomorrow is July 17, 2015. It is also Disneyland’s 60th anniversary. We would have recognized the park’s golden anniversary but nobody was blogging ten years ago. We did recognize “The Happiest Place in the World” two years ago but it wasn’t then, and isn’t still, a Disney property. (Go ahead and check it out. I won’t spoil the surprise if you didn’t read it back then.)

At best, Disneyland is the second happiest place in the world. That’s the small one in California. I’ve been there. I’ve also been to Disney World, the larger one in Florida. Each will try to convince you that it is the happiest place but we know better. They are probably equally happiness inducing so it could be a tie for second happiest place in the world. But I don’t know about that. On second thought I can think of a better second happiest place pushing the park pair to third happiest place.

Sort of related to the Disneys, I came across the second happiest place last weekend. I was having a horrible weekend.  It was hot and when it wasn’t hot it was raining, and when it was hot and raining my basement was leaking. I slept poorly, I ached constantly, and for some reason I had three days of hot food (picante hot, not caliente hot) and was not the better for it. But around 7:00 on Sunday evening in between rain storms I looked out the window and saw the most beautiful rainbow. Vivid colors, perfect arch, disappearing beyond the horizon filling that fabled pot of gold. It was absolutely impossible to be grumpy, grouchy, crabby, cranky, or any other -y you can think of while gazing at that rainbow. That immediately became the second happiest place in the world. The place you stand when you see your rainbow.

Happy birthday Disneyland, and many more. May your visitors be merry and your rainbow be bright. Copyright or not, you just can’t compete with nature for happy. How are rainbows and Disney parks related you ask? You have to watch more movies.