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Sandwiched Between Here and There
About 15 years ago I spent a few years living in Philadelphia. To this day, when friends and family plan a trip to the city proverbially of brotherly love I get calls about finding the best…well, not the best time to visit Independence Hall, not the best museum for kids, not the best place to see fireworks on the Fourth of July. Nope, people are always asking about the best cheese steaks in the city.
Maybe I just look like someone who eats a lot of sandwiches or maybe sandwiches are starting to define certain cities and even whole geographic areas.
Think about it. That cheese steak identifies so closely with Philadelphia that in other cities it’s often called a “Philly Cheese Steak.” Across the state in Pittsburgh take that same meat and cheese and top them with tomatoes, french fries, and cole slaw and you have the classic Pittsburgher sandwich. Pile a sandwich high with thinly sliced corned beef or pastrami, add a well pickled pickle on the side and you’re eating in a deli in New York City. If you’re lunching on a lobster roll you’re lunching in a New England coastal town. You’ve made your sandwich with sour dough bread and you’re on the other coast somewhere around San Francisco. And a Po’ Boy on your plate puts that plate and you in New Orleans.
Of course there are some sandwiches that are universal like peanut butter and jelly. Then there are others that people eat all across the country but nobody will claim them. Like peanut butter and marshmallow fluff. No pickle required.
That’s what I think. Really. How ’bout you?
A Hair Raising Thought
I was staring into the mirror the other day when a thought hit me. You know that I spent a couple of months in the hospital recently. I had so much blood thinner running through me that for several weeks no one dared approach me with a razor. I had gone in wearing a beard that already could have used a trim and it didn’t take much time for it to qualify as “bushy.” Not a bad look but not for me.
While I was wondering if I would ever get be groomed again I started wondering why hair seems to grow only above the neck.Or in my case, above the neck but below the scalp. Stay with me here.
I have to trim my beard at least once a week to keep the level of neatness that I like. (I don’t always make it but that’s what I strive for.) The parts of my face not covered in hair get shaved daily. The hair on my head, actually the ring of hair around my head seems to always need a haircut starting with the day after I get a haircut. And for some reason the left side of that ring grows faster than the right side. As I said, the parts above the neck are always growing hair.
The rest of the hair follicles across other body parts don’t seem to be as diligent about new growth. I have never, ever shaved my arms yet the amount of hair there has not changed since I was in high school. If I hadn’t cut the hair on my head since then I would be pushing it around in a wheelbarrow. Arms, legs, chest, underarms, and those private areas seem to have some auto-sensor about when to stop growing.
The hair at those places will grow if it has to. I have had areas shaved for medical procedures and everywhere that was done the hair ultimately returned to its pre-procedure length and then stopped. How does it know?
But back to that day that I was staring into the mirror. I definitely needed a beard trim but just wasn’t in the mood. Not a good enough reason to keep the trimmer in its holder. Facial hair just has no clue as to when to stop growing on its own.
That;s what I think. Really. How ’bout you?
Considering My Options
Just a couple of years ago we proposed some nifty retirement jobs even though retirement was “years and years” away. (See Who Could Ask For Anything More.) Now, just 2 years later I find myself in a forced early retirement and those jobs look even niftier. But the niftiest one was even a consideration back then.
As fun as serving ice cream, driving a limo, or tending bar (on the slow nights) might be, I want to spend my golden years (ok, silver) (ok, ok, bronze) (but shiny bronze) (where was I?) I want to spend my after-work years as part of Jeopardy’s Clue Crew. If you’re a fan you know the Clue Crew. They are the intrepid 3-some who do the narratives for the visual clue in the background. I assumed they filmed those shots in front of a green screen and the clue was painted in by computer. Recently I found out those guys actually travel to the locale of the category in question. Or would that be ‘in answer?’ Either way, that is so cool.
Here’s why I would be the perfect addition to the Clue Crew. I like to travel, I read and speak well, I already know a bunch of useless facts, and I’ve been watching Jeopardy since Art Fleming read the answers.
Now all I have to do is get Alex to read the preceding paragraph, pack my bags, and get a passport. Retirement is going to be so cool!
That’s what I think. Really. How ’bout you?
Summer Sunny Preview
Today in the U.S.A. is Memorial Day and before we go with another word let’s pause to remember all those who gave all they had to give so that we can continue to celebrate holidays like Memorial Day.
Around here, Memorial Day is also the “unofficial start of summer.” If you live close to the Equator you don’t need an unofficial start to summer; you don’t even need an official start for it. It’s summer all year long and apparently that’s ok with you because you’re still there. If you live in the Southern Hemisphere as deep as we are in the northern half of the world you’d maybe love to have a start to summer, even unofficial, right about now. Instead you’re waxing snowboards and servicing snow blowers. Let me say that if your upcoming winter is anything like our past winter you might want to consider chopping some extra firewood also.
So what does the unofficial start of summer mean. Well…it’s like those things that you’ve been waiting for all winter and spring can start happening. Weather permitting. What might they be you ask.
Here’s my list of things everyone should do at least once a summer. (Those reading in the Southern Hemisphere may want to save this list for 6 months or so.)
1. Plant something. Flower, vegetable, herb, tree, shrub. Be a part of the world Even if you live in one room on the 8th floor you can find room on a windowsill for a small pot with a colorful bloom or tasty herb.
2. Drive (or if you prefer, ride in) a convertible. Don’t have one? take a “test drive” at the local (or not so local) car store. You weren’t doing anything else after work.
3. Eat outdoors. The ideal spot would be in a piazza somewhere in Italy with fresh fruit, sharp cheeses, a bottle of chilled, semi-dry white wine, and strolling minstrels. But coffee and a donut on the deck will do. Just get outside and feel the nature that brought you that food.
4. Go to a baseball game. If you don’t like baseball, go with somebody who really understands the game. If you still aren’t going to like it, go for the atmosphere. Do some people watching, have a hot dog, get some sun and fresh air. It doesn’t matter if it’s a MLB game, a minor league offering, or a college or high school game, there is no other sports event like baseball.
5. Go to an outdoor concert. Parts of our city’s symphony orchestra put on free concerts in town on select days during lunch and the full symphony does a couple free evenings at a county park. In fact, the county sponsors several shows of a variety of styles throughout the summer. But if one doesn’t check the web-site one doesn’t know of them. Be the smart one and check your county’s website. Why? Because baseball games aren’t the only outdoor events with people watching and fresh air.
6. Go ahead, put on a pair of shorts. I don’t care if you say you wouldn’t wear shorts in your own back yard, at least wear them in your own back yard. Then you know summer is really here!
An even half-dozen things to do this summer. On me. You can come up with stuff to fill the other days.
That’s what I think. How ’bout you?
News You Can’t Use
Lately I’ve seen some pretty unusual news stories often delivered with complete seriousness by the media. They have little or no consequence on life as I know it other than being good head scratchers. So now I present them to you.
This past Tuesday was primary election day in Pennsylvania. Pennsylvania is a closed primary state. Voters registered Democrats select who will be on the fall general election ballot from among Democrats on a Democrat ballot. Republicans do the same on a Republican ballot. Voters of both parties had some interesting choices presented to them. There is a law in Pennsylvania and most other states that prohibit convicted felons from holding public office. But there is no law prohibiting them from running for office. And in a dozen local elections across the state, felons were on the ballot. None won so the counties’ boards of election won’t have to go through the trouble of certifying the election and then petitioning a local judge to invalidate the results.
To continue in this vein, if someone wins an election who cannot serve, like a convicted felon or a fictitious character (haven’t you been tempted to vote for Mickey Mouse?) or a dead person, the person who came in second doesn’t get the nomination. That selection is made by the local party committee. Speaking of dead people, it was a candidate who passed away two weeks ago who won a county council nomination in Allegheny County, PA.
Moving farther south, in Georgia an out of work contractor was getting tired of not working so he drove his pick-up truck through his house. He’s been working on repairs for the past couple of weeks. He said the job doesn’t pay but at least he’s not bored.
Heading out west to Las Vegas, Romy and Rocky were married at the Little Church of the West. Did I mention that they are horses.
Staying in the animal world of politics, Giggles the Pig is a candidate for mayor of Flint. Michigan. Giggles owner (campaign manager?) announced the the pig will run at the city’s primary election in August. He claims Michigan state law does not prohibit a pig from running for mayor.
In Chicago a bank employee was fired for calling the company’s regular caterer, ordered a bunch of food, met the delivery person outside the building and had him put the food in her car which she then drove home for the party she was having. She had a hard time understanding why she ended up unemployed.
So there you are, a bunch of news that hopefully means nothing to you. If you happen to be an out of work contractor, a pig handler, a recently unemployed bank employee who just had a party, or a dead politician…um, sorry.
That’s what I think. How ’bout you?
Now they’re really making things up, really
Lately I’ve been thinking about food a lot. Just look at some of my most recent posts. Soup, kale,eggrolls. Soup is pretty straightforward. A few posts ago I talked about “them” making up new foods like chia seeds. I got to thinking about more made up stuff when I saw a Taco Bell commercial for a “Doubledilla.” Restaurants, particularly fast food restaurants have a long history of making up stuff. There were no McMuffins before there were McDonalds. But I found a group who are really making up stuff in or for or around the kitchen. Novelists. Yes, those people whose jobs are to make up stuff. And they have taken to food like a nutritionist takes to quinoa.
Many years ago, in a whole different century, I encountered my first food related novel – Someone Is Killing the Great Chefs of Europe by Nan and Ivan Lyons. Now this isn’t your classic mystery or (my favorite) a hard boiled crime story. But it has murders in it so that was good enough for me to pluck it off the bookstore shelf. It was also on clearance, is relatively short for a quick weekend read, and it looked pretty fun based on the backflap synopsis. So I bit. And I still go back and read it today.
Since then, whenever I’ve needed a break from gritty crime and mayhem I’ll crack open a fun, lighthearted food mystery ala Joann Fluke or Chris Cavender. Silly stories you don’t have to concentrate hard on and usually figure out whodunnit somewhere around page 6.
I recently (and finally) slogged my way through Dan Brown’s latest. After several hundred pages of dashing across Florence I needed fluff. So I went off in the search of The Marshmallow Fluff Murders or something similar. Boy did I find similar!
As I was perusing the B&N catalog I found some of the most remarkably titled tomes. I don’t know how good any of the books are but the names are wonderful. We have Battered to Death, All the President’s Menus, As Gouda as Dead, Basil Instinct, Bread on Arrival, and about a hundred other bad puns masquerading as book titles. (Yes, you can really search using the phrase “Foodie Mysteries.”)
There once was a day when if I wanted to mix meals with murder I had to read Robert B. Parker’s “Spenser” mysteries. It seemed at least once every 10 or so chapters our hero would cogitate over his most recent discovery while fixing dinner. And Mr. Parker worked great detail into those fixings.
But today, we have our “Foodie Mysteries” and I don’t dare Roux the Day that I discovered them.
That’s what I think. How ’bout you?
Soup’s On
It started innocently enough with a cup of clam chowder. This was a couple of weeks ago after a doctor appointment stuck right in the middle of the day. By the time that was over I was hungry as a bear and lunch came at one of those big casual restaurants that are handiest when you have no idea what you want but you know that whatever you decide on will be decent. I decided on soup and a sandwich. Clam chowder and corned beef. I know, not one of your classic combinations but it was decent. and it woke up a soup need in me.
I like soup. Not so much that I’ll eat it every day but that’s exactly what I’ve done now for a whole week. You might associate daily soup eating with autumn, a chill in the air, leaves falling outside, fires burning inside. Not with May and unusually high (like in the nineties) daytime temperatures. I blame my daily soup eating partially on being in the hospital during the coldest months of the year where their idea of soup is salted water. And partially on that clam chowder.
Let’s fast forward a week or so. It’s time for another doctor appointment stuck right in the middle of yet another day. Again, lunch was high on my list of things to do. Another casual restaurant, another soup and sandwich. French onion and grilled chicken. (What can I say? I just don’t pick combinations well.)
Since then I’ve had soup and something for lunch or dinner. Every day. For seven days. Soups from spicy hot and sour to hearty black bean to classic chicken noodle. All much better than salted water.
So now as I approach week two I have to decide if I should continue the soup-a-thon or shift to a more season appropriate accompaniment to my meals. After all, I’d hate to be the cause of snow in May.
That’s what I think. How ’bout you?
Pacing Myself
The other day I was cutting into an eggroll and it reminded me of a story. Yes, I cut into the eggroll. With a knife. So I could pick up a piece with a fork. What’s wrong with that? Oh sure, I’ve picked up eggrolls and eaten them out of hand. But I most likely will split it down the middle, add some duck sauce and hot mustard to the innards and then consume it slice by tasty slice. Yum.
I guess there are other things I eat differently from others. I always slice the corn off the cob rather than gnawing my way along it although just the thought of butter dripping down the front of my face makes me salivate. Unless there is a chocolate milkshake handy I dip french fries in mayonnaise. That’s the most efficient way to double up on fat that I can think of. And when I eat asparagus I have to start with the stalk and save the crown for last.
So what was the story that made the eggroll become a reminder? Once upon a time, She of We and I were dining at a Chinese restaurant. I know I wanted the General Tso but couldn’t decide between chicken and shrimp. So I took the diplomatic route and ordered the combination of both. (When it arrived I had to alternate between the two proteins, never doubling up on one or the other. But we’ve already covered my dining proclivities.) She asked how they were and I said I that the chicken could have been better. Later when the fortune cookies arrived and we went through our ritual of determining who got which, I opened mine, unfolded the tiny slip with the tiny print, squinted at it then almost fell out of my chair. Printed there in red and white was “Next time order the shrimp.” True story!
Oh. How does any of this relate to the title of today’s post? Obviously if I have to tkae the extra time to carve an eggroll or arrange my asparagus I obviously take some time to eat. But that’s OK. I’m just pacing myself. If I pace myself slow enough I could end up eating just one meal a day, all day. Sort of Roman Emperor-ish.
That’s what I think. How ’bout you?
Drive By
It’s been over two years since we posted anything about people driving their cars into buildings. (See Drive Through Service, Drive Through Part Two, Drive Around Please, and Drive On.) And there is a good reason for that. When we started that little series it was almost cute the things drivers were getting themselves into. But lately it’s been tragic.
For at least the past year there has been a car driven into a home or business at least once a week with horrible consequences. Cars, trucks, and big rigs have plowed into doctors’ offices, hairdressers, fast food restaurants, convenience stores, banks, a do-nut shop, and private homes. Each time, someone has been injured and buildings have been rendered uninhabitable. One intrusion resulted in a fatality.
Some of the collisions might have been caused by snow-covered, icy, or wet roads, but many of them happened in 70 degree, dry,calm weather. When is wasn’t dry or calm, the drivers should have taken extra care.
So they haven’t been fun, haven’t been innocuous, haven’t even been cute. Why bring it up again? As a reminder to please be careful out there. Just because a car’s speedometer goes up to 120 mph is no reason to try and get there. Just because your phone is ringing doesn’t mean the caller won’t be there when you’re parked. And just because they zoom about in the commercials they really mean it when the put those teeny words across the bottom of the screen that say “Professional driver, do not attempt.”
Take your time, keep alert for hazards in the road, and hang around as long as you can. We want you to be reading us for a long time.
That’s what I think, How ’bout you?
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