Category House and Home

Land of Plenty

Michael 7 Comments

I have seen the Land of Plenty and it doubles as my apartment. It’s closing in one three years that I downsized from a 2000+sq.ft. house to a 700sq.ft. apartment and it was time to take stock of that which I decided was worthy of making the change with me. So I did and I discovered that I should have put downsize in quotes.

Clothes are easy. If you haven’t worn it in a year you’re not going to wear in another. Tuxedos excluded. But how do you know when it’s time to let go of those bath towels. I don’t know how I decided which towels to bring with me on the move but however it was it was not well thought out. I ended up with 14 bath towels in my linen closet; there are also 12 hand towels and 14 wash cloths. (No, I don’t have an explanation for the discrepancy. Just go with it.) I can change full towel sets every day and not be concerned with having to do a load of bath linens for half a month.

Bed linen seems to have actually grown since my life reduction. Still I am the proud owner (ok, I am the owner) of seven complete sheets sets each with 4 pillow cases, two comforters, 4 blankets, and two dust ruffles. I know men who can’t even recognize a dust ruffle. Why do I have two? That might have been appropriate for a three bedroom house but for a single bedroom hovel, per sleeping space I probably outpace some major hotel chains.

KitchenToolsThe kitchen hasn’t been spared its own review. There I’ve had the benefit of slowly transferring pieces to my daughter whenever she says things like “I really need a new blender,” and I can come back with “Before you go to Target you can have one of mine.” Even shifting a blender off to her I still have two (one standard, one immersion). I also still have two food processors and two slow cookers even though she has taken possession of one of each of those, and for some reason I have two coffee makers.

Somehow the number and sizes of my pots and pans are appropriate but the kitchen tools are out of control. Do I really need three potato mashers? I rarely even eat potatoes. How many slotted spoons should grace one small kitchen? If the answer is four I have just enough. Spatulas, turners, and spoons fill two utensil crocks on the small counter. One drawer holds three zesters, two peelers, and a garlic press.

Even the glassware hasn’t escaped consideration for further reduction. A man who doesn’t drink does not need a complete set of 4 each red and white wine glasses, champagne flutes, and martini, rocks, and pilsner glasses. And an ice bucket.

Yes I think it’s time for another elimination round. There’s always the tried and true garage sale. I certainly have enough to make for an interesting afternoon of browsing for some people. I could donate them all to the local St. Vincent dePaul Society. If I did I’d not ask for a receipt for taxes or I’d certainly be setting myself up for an audit down the road. I could post them for sale on line but then I’d have to worry about taking pictures and shipping or meeting a complete stranger in a parking lot to hand over a stir fry pan. No I think the easiest thing to do is just leave them all where they are and let my heirs fight over them when I’m gone.

By then they should be museum quality antiques.

———-

WTC

Photo: Jeff Mock via WikiMedia Commons

TRRSB Extra: Say World Trade Center terrorist attack and your first thought probably goes to Sept 11, 2001. But that wasn’t the first terrorist attack on the New York skyscraper. That came 25 years ago today on 26 February 1993 when 15 people conspired and parked a rental van packed with 1200 pounds of explosives in the parking garage beneath the towers. Six people including a pregnant woman were killed and over 1,000 injured in the blast that also caused over $590 million in damage.

The FBI called the van bomb the “largest by weight and by damage of any improvised explosive device that we’ve seen since the inception of forensic explosive identification.” The World Trade Center’s sprinklers, generators, elevators, public address system, emergency command center, and more than half of the incoming electricity lines to the buildings were destroyed in the attack.

Sometime today please take a moment to remember the victims of the forgotten attack on the World Trade Center.

 

It’s the Most Unwonderful Time of the Year

Michael 12 Comments

It’s time for my annual “Woe is me” party. I figure I have lots of reasons to celebrate my misfortunes. A rare weird disease, cancer, blood clots, lack of mobility, dialysis. Too much plaid in my wardrobe. The list goes on. But those are everyday disasters and things that almost everybody else will go through. Maybe not all of them or the ones you someday experience not all at once. But these are the things people deal with. And I deal with them pretty well. I have good family and good friends and a good medical team to help me along.

But all the help and support from family members and dialysis nurses won’t change the fact that on Wednesday I’m going to wake up alone. There will be no card taped to the bathroom mirror, they’ll be no second place setting at breakfast (and that’s a shame because I’m planning on a traditional Eggs Benedict with my own Hollandaise), there’ll be no impromptu dancing in the living room in front of an open window for the world to see that old people can still love.

I suppose old people still love. I see them. I know some who are seemingly doing all the right things. Maybe that’s it. Seemingly. In my experience, getting old did not help in the still loving department.

Broken_Heart_Pose_(1)First there was the ex. Forgive me for being so old fashioned here but by “ex” I shouldn’t have to explain ex what. It kills me when people refer to someone they dated three times as their ex. That’s a “guy or girl I dated.” Or someone they saw for almost a year. That’s an “old boyfriend.” By the way there is no “old girlfriend.” Just someone “I used to spend time with” accompanied by a wistful look into nowhere. But no, these people aren’t exes. There has to be something that existed to be exed out of. To me “ex” will always and only be an ex-wife. Or husband depending on your point of view.

Anyway, first there was the ex. We weren’t that bad when we were. We had our moments but then we also had our moments. It was hard getting together in the 70’s. Things were expensive. Money was expensive. It was not a time of destination weddings and yearly two week tropical vacations, new cars, new houses, or new tires no matter how much the mechanic whined they weren’t going to pass inspection next time. We’ll worry about it then. And that was pretty much how we got though out first 10 years. Worrying about it then. And then by the next 10 years we didn’t have to worry so much. Cars were newer. Houses were big enough that the daughter could have her own room with lots of space to spare. Plans were made and met and new ones thought up. One plan that caught us off guard was that I planned on turning 40 and she didn’t. So when I did and she should have soon followed there was lots of holding back and plans changed. Eventually my 40 turned 45 and her never ending 39 regressed to 30 and the 15 years difference was too much for her.

comforting__hearttle_6__by_domobfdi-d7186dwYears went by and I would meet a somebody now and then in between being dad and homemaker. Single parenting isn’t much fun for the male set either in case you’re wondering. Eventually a new she entered and if she wasn’t perfect, she was just right. Right enough that space could be made for her. We danced and swam and festivaled. We visited places from northern falls to tropical islands and enjoyed time in farm markets and art studios. Plans were made and met and new ones thought up. One plan that caught us off guard was that I planned on getting cancer (well, part of me did but didn’t bother to tell the rest of me until it was too late) and she planned on me always being the same. So when I did and the cure necessitated removing some parts of me, and some of those parts were the parts that impart a certain amount of masculinity to maleness, and plans changed. We struggled a bit until the phone call that spoke of things wanted and things able and they weren’t the same things. And then sometime in our 8th, maybe 9th, could have been 10th year, the new she began to become someone I used to spend time with.

So twice bitten I’ve had no will to risk adding even a girl I used to date to my record. The desire, yes. The will, no. I’d love to have someone warm to hold close at night or to slog through mud tracked roads leading to the demonstration area at the maple festival. Someone to see the old ships of New England and the old houses of the Old Country. Or someone to sit next to and read a book for the fourteenth time and for the thirteenth time to explain that it’s OK to reread a book. Or someone to share an Eggs Benedict then dance with in front of a window

Nope, not the most wonderful week of the year for me. But that’s ok. There are 51 others to amuse me. I’ll be back to normal sometime next week.

 

Images by Picquery

Now I’m Just Milking It

Michael 11 Comments

I think it’s happened. I have finally gotten so old that I don’t understand what’s happening. Not that I don’t think I understand or I misunderstand. I don’t understand what’s happening.

With milk.

BananaMilkdI was going over this week’s grocery store ads (you know, those things that come in the mail) (yes, that mail) (yes, in email too if you want) (or on line) and saw that this week’s sales include banana milk. What do people have against cows?

I know many people have dairy allergies and need a cow’s milk alternative. That’s why we have soy milk although I don’t understand how they fit the little stool and bucket under a soy bean. But that’s a different kind of not understanding, not the big not understanding what’s happening of understandings.

Then somebody decided soy milk wasn’t any better for people than cow’s milk so they had to invent new milks. (Just to mention another thing in the long list of things that I don’t understand is how the soy in soy milk isn’t good for us but the soy in tofu is still ok.) So now we have almond milk, cashew milk, flax milk, quinoa milk, hemp milk, oat milk, rice milk, coconut milk, and pea protein milk. And now banana milk. All with nothing in common with dairy milk (and soy milk) except they are sort of white but without all the pesky allergens. And most of the nutrients. Then we add to each one its proponents. Check that. Each one’s fanatics.

Why is it that food attracts so much controversy? There always seems to be as much debate with food extremists as with partisan politics zealots. And sometimes not even as much fun. We have vegans, gluten freers (who are not celiacs), paleo dieters, juicers and cleansers, and now milkers. But not the kind with stools and buckets. Each trying to convince anybody not in said camp why theirs is the one way, the right way, the only way. Next you’ll be seeing them soliciting in airports handing out banana peels in exchange for your loose change.

Well, while all those others are trying to fit their stools and buckets under their nuts and peas and bananas I’m going to have a nice big glass of old fashioned milk milk. With a cookie. Baked. If that’s not too old fashioned.

Cow

Moo.

Happy Hot Sauce Day

Michael 8 Comments

Happy Hot Sauce Day! 😲 I’m not sure if that really should be capitalized but it sounds official enough so why not. I’ve looked into it but have not been able to determine the origin of Hot Sauce Day but I’m going to take a wild guess and say it’s relatively new and was dreamed up by a marketing company. I’m guessing it’s fairly new because when I was growing up there weren’t many hot sauces out there so there wouldn’t have been a need for a “day” and it probably would have been called chili pepper sauce day not hot sauce day. And I’m guessing it was the brain child of a marketing group because I’m not stupid.

Hot Sauce Day is a particularly significant day for me this year. I am finally getting some appetite back having been set back by pneumonia now going into its third week. But just because I want to eat doesn’t mean I can taste much of what I eat. Thus the addition of strong flavors to my foods. It’s amazing what a splash or two of Tabasco will do to scrambled eggs.

HotSauceTabasco is one of two hot sauces I keep in my pantry. The other is Frank’s. I don’t get any remuneration from either but if one, the other, or both would like to make an offer, I’m all taste buds.

Frank’s is the hot sauce most often associated with Buffalo wings although it serves a more subtle use in my kitchen. Anything made with ground beef, chicken, or turkey, such as meatloaf gets a few splashes of Frank’s. So too do most sauces and braising liquids. Tabasco, being lighter and more acidic is added to most dressings and marinades.

So today being Hot Sauce Day in one way isn’t such a big thing for me. Almost every day is Hot Sauce Day to me. On the other hand it’s a really big deal because instead of the controlled restraint I usually use on my hot sauce, today and for a few more I’ll be pouring it on like the typical macho bar fly uses his hot sauce. As a weapon against his taste buds.

Fortunately my taste buds are just as incapacitated as the rest of me and can stand a little extra jolt. Hmm. Jolt? No, that would be November 19, Carbonated Beverage with Caffeine Day. I wouldn’t make that up.

 

All Washed Up

Michael 12 Comments

Since the beginning of last week I’ve been fairly much home bound with my pneumania. I say daily much because I’ve still had to go to dialysis and the occasional outing for a lab draw or x-ray. That means I’ve had to make myself presentable to the general public. You know how us old people are. Um, how we old people are. I still dress up to fly.

I was beginning to think that I had better do something around the house and since I had a hamper full of germ laden clothes from the week I thought that might be a good place to start. Dust on the furniture and dirt in carpet could hang out for another few days. Used linen could wait since I have enough sheets and towels to outfit a good size bed and breakfast. But socks and underwear exist only in a finite supply.

So I tossed a small load of said mangerie in the machine, selected the load size and water temperature, and measured out the appropriate amount of liquid detergent. Just like on the television commercials. At the appropriate time, when I heard the machine shift from wash to rinse mode, I poured in the required amount of liquid fabric softener. You see, unlike the machines on those commercials, mine is not of the fancy variety with dispensers where you can pour everything into at the beginning and forget it. I have the cheap model that requires me to be my own dispenser of detergent, bleach, and fabric softener at the appropriate times in the cycle. (Darn apartment living!) As I was returning the fabric softener bottle to the shelf I realized something was in its space. What was it? Why, it was liquid fabric softener! Hmm. Then what was in my hand awaiting its return to this space? Why, it was the liquid detergent! But I knew I had my hands on fabric softener and indeed I had. At the beginning of the wash cycle! And that’s how I ended up washing that load twice. Well, they were germ laden and probably benefited from the extra spin around the tub.

At least I had to dry them only once.

 

Pneumania

Michael 14 Comments

“Yeah, they sound pretty junky.”  Not the thing you want to hear from your doctor while he’s pressing a stethoscope against your back but what I expected to hear from the time I woke up seven hours earlier. It would be “official” when the x-ray results showed what looked like the course diagram of a nine hole golf course where my right lower lung should be but I was pretty sure I had pneumonia when I coughed myself awake around 4 Monday morning.

I’d been moving slower than usual and had a little cough for a couple days before but I hadn’t considered that I was actually any sicker than usual. If it wasn’t for the fever, chills, dizziness, shortness of breath, and inability to get out of bed without falling over I might have thought I was overreacting when I said to myself, “Self, this ain’t no man flu. You got pneumania. You should call someone,” in between gasps.

ChestXrayYes, pneumania is a real thing. It’s just like the pneumonia that non-men get only it’s real. It’s not the “cough, cough, oh I feel so bad I think I have pneumonia but I’ll still make breakfast and pack everybody’s lunch then go to work and come home and still clean the house before I make a gourmet dinner then I’ll work on my hand crafted head bands for my Etsy shop and write 3 or 4 thousand words for my novel” type of pneumonia. No. What I have is a real pneumonia. A man’s pneumonia. Pneumania!

Ok, it’s true. You can get a little loopy from too much cough syrup. But hey, I got photograph proof that my life is in jeopardy. And not just from your lack of compassion. So there! 😛

Hmm. That might mean more if I didn’t live alone.

Cough, cough.

Sorry.

Cough.

 

On a Clear Day

Michael 6 Comments

I was out driving in yesterday’s clear, cold, January afternoon when I decided that I don’t like driving in clear, cold, January afternoons. Well, it’s not that I don’t like driving in clear, cold, January afternoons. It’s that clear, cold, January afternoons come with a tremendous amount of glare. (Probably like clear, cold, July afternoons in Uruguay but I’m just supposing that.)

I don’t recall having glare issues until a few years ago. I’m not sure if I had better sunglasses before then, if sunglasses in general were better before then, if Polarizing (the trade mark kind, not what happens when you put Democrats and Republicans on the same Facebook page) actually worked before then, or if my eyes are just getting old and tired. Nah, can’t be that.

SunglassesI don’t think I would have even considered the tremendous amount of glare associated with clear, cold, January afternoons had I not yesterday morning saw a commercial for new “tactical” glasses that supposedly dramatically reduce tremendous amount of glare. Again, among the things that I’m not sure of, I’m not sure if I’m a sucker for things that dramatically reduce glare, if I’m a sucker about things called “tactical,” if I’m a sucker for glasses in general, or if I’m just a sucker. Nah. If I was just a sucker I’d be a sucker for things in the Sky Mall catalog, not the As Seen On TV bounty.

I’m sorry. How did I get from Polarized sunglasses to being a sucker? Clearly it was the $5 scratch off lottery ticket winnings burning a hole in my pocket. So as soon as I got home I got online and looked up “tactical glasses as seen on TV.” You know, just in case I might be out on another clear, cold, January afternoon. Do you have any idea how many tactical glasses have been on TV?!?! Fourteen! From $14.88 to $69.

That’s when I realized that I really need a hobby. Or more winning scratch off tickets. Or I have to stay indoors on clear, cold, January afternoons.

 

A Virtue by Any Other Name

Michael 8 Comments

I’m writing this at about 11:30 Wednesday morning while I’m waiting for my car to be serviced. It’s not the little roadster I’ve often mentioned here but the daily driver. Since my daily drives are now short, few, and far between, it is more aptly a daily parker. But still with even less than 5,000 miles added to its journeys since last December, it needs its annual safety inspection and oil change.

Although there are more than a handful of 29 minute oil change places within a few miles of me I opted for the dealership service department. It’s very close. Close enough I could walk home if I didn’t want to wait although an oil change and inspection is usually only a half hour wait and I can amuse myself reading the paper or tackling a crossword puzzle. And it’s only 9°F (-13°C) outside. That’s warmed up from the 5° it was when I got here 3 hours ago. Less than ideal outdoor walking weather.

Oh, yes, you read that right. Three hours. I have seen people come and people go and I’ve worked all the puzzles I’m I the mood to except the one that answers why it takes so long to drain old oil out, pour new oil in, honk the horn, flash the lights, and tap the brakes.

I guess that’s not a fair representation. I know there’s more to it than that and that those who have come and gone might have had even less work done. After all, it was only 5° at the start of the day. I’m sure lots if batteries are being sold and they can switch out 4 or 5 of them in the time it takes 5° oil to ooze out of crankcase.

I don’t know what you do but whatever you do somebody has said, why do you have to take so long, why do you charge so much, why did you have to go to school for that? All you’re doing is…

Knowing that I had been the subject of such complaints throughout my work days, I was certain I never said such a thing of others. Until 3 paragraphs ago. More than likely, until 50 years ago. Impatience is not one if the seven deadly sins but it certainly should be. I spent the first hour of waiting just fine. I sat in a comfortable chair in a warm lounge and read the morning paper. By the second hour I started getting impatient. The chair got hard, the paper was boring, and there was a definite chill in the air. Heading to the third hour I am close to irate. Why am I still here when I could be home in a comfortable chair …

in a warm room …

reading … um …

the rest … ah …

of …

the … um …

paper.

Hmm…

You know I don’t do resolutions at the beginning of the year but maybe I’ll make an exception and not do that again and hope that you don’t either. So it’s taking a little longer than I expected. Across the room is a father and son playing some sort of game on a tablet. In the corner is a young man appearing to be watching a webcast on his laptop, two seats down from me a pair of young women are planning a brunch before they take a third friend shopping for her wedding dress. They all have more things going on in their lives and don’t seem to mind the wait. I’m sure I can learn something from that.

Even at my advanced impatience.

 

Why We Eat

Michael 8 Comments

It’s the time of year that posts are flying all over the Internet with main dish recipes and cookie recipes and appetizers that don’t require cooking recipes and make ahead dessert recipes and the world’s best ever side dishes recipes. I gain weight every day just opening my tablet.

Seriously, I am gaining weight every day. I know because I weigh myself every day. There might be a little vanity in there. After years of avoiding scales because my weight was approaching numbers usually reserved for poor credit scores it’s refreshing to step on a scale and see a number more closely associated with IQ test scores. (Not my IQ but I’m ok with that. The world needs average people too.) Anyway, I get on the scale every morning and I see a number just a little higher than the day before. Over the last week I’d say a couple of pounds higher.* And I know why.

It’s not because of all the cookie pictures Facebook. Although they certainly aren’t helping. I would go through this unexplained weight gain when I was working, specifically anytime I was about to go out on a business trip.

Regular readers with good memories and occasional readers who visited just the right posts know that back in a different day when I was working I worked for a national health care company. An extra duty as assigned was visiting other facilities to do operational reviews. Unlike McDonald’s or Wendy’s which have the same food from coast to coast, our hospitals did not share that familiarity. There were some pretty bad cafeterias in those places. So I think subconsciously when I knew I was going away I’d eat a lot. Why ever it was, I knew that whenever I was going somewhere I was going at least two pounds heavier than the week before.

So, if we are to believe that a) there are no coincidences, b) the past is a harbinger of the future, and c) I historically always use three examples, I am gaining that weight for a reason and it has nothing to do with water weight gain and/or Christmas cookies in the kitchen. I’m going on a trip! Now since I haven’t planned anything on my own and since neither my bank balance nor my credit score is sufficient to finance a trip much farther than 12 to 15 miles down the road**, somebody is giving me a vacation for Christmas!***

Boy I hope it’s somewhere where sun block is recommended.

*For those of you of the metric persuasion that “couple of pounds” would be about a kilogram if you subscribe that a pound is 2.2kg or 1kg=0.454lb. I used to know why the abbreviation for pound is “lb.” but I don’t remember right now and it’s not all that important anyway. Probably more important is if you are somewhere that requires me clarifying the relationship between pounds and kilograms, do you also require clarification of the American credit score (or debt score as some would insist)? If you do, well, there is no reasonable explanation but the lowest FICO score possible is 300. In the VantageScore system the lowest score is 501. See. No sense at all. Just like the lowest SAT score is 400 but the lowest PSAT is 320. Oh. What’s SAT? This is going to take another post. My weight approached the lowest FICO score, not the VantageScore.

**19 to 24 kilometers (We really need to universalize weights and measures.)

***Holiday (We really need to universalize English too.)

What Not To Buy

Michael 8 Comments

Country Living magazine recently published a list of the 29 gifts you do not want to give for Christmas. I’ll tell you up front that I disagree with 28 of them as well as the entire idea of the list.

First, why 29? That seems arbitrary. Who comes up with a Top Twenty-Nine of anything? We’re they just sitting around in the production office and tossing out things they don’t like getting while tossing back some double fortified eggnog? If you can’t be firm on a topic and declare “These are the 10 worst gifts ever!!!” why should you expect anyone to take the basket full of suggested “don’t do it” gifts with any seriousness?

NoGiftsBeyond the idea itself being of little value to normal people, the items they chose would actually make pretty wonderful gifts. Assuming you are gifting to those you care about enough to give thought and consideration to your gift giving, 28 of the 29 items could be tops on anybody’s wish list.

For example, they had to hop on the “let’s hate fruit cake bandwagon” and include the delicacy on their never ever give list. I personally like fruit cake. If you gave me a fruitcake you would go directly to top of my I Love You list. Just don’t give me one that was prepared 11 months ago in a factory that also puts out sparklers for the summer market. If you gave me a mass produced chocolate lava cake made more than 4 hours ago I would use that as a stop to prop open the front door while I threw you out on your ear. So stop knocking my decision to like fruitcake and start practicing that inclusion stuff you keep posting on Facebook!

Another item in their list of taboo tchotchkes is fitness equipment lest you send the message that your giftee is in need of some serious body work. If your friend or family member is an avid exerciser would he or she not appreciate that your share their enthusiasm for self-improvement? One of the best gifts I ever received was my fitness tracker. It provides daily encouragement to keep moving else I find myself behind a walker again. Interestingly, among their suggestions in lieu of exercise equipment is a pocket wine aerator. Now isn’t that just the perfect thing to gift to you closest drunk on the go?

I could go on 26 more times but you get the idea. Gift guides are fun because you can look at stuff out there you may never have thought of and know somebody who would be just right for this or that. But non-gift guides are just mean! They send the message that if you considered any of those items that you’re a lesser person. You know what those on your list like and appreciate. Don’t let somebody you don’t know tell you what your friends and family want!

Oh, what was the one thing on their list I would agree with being a less than thoughtful present? Toilet paper. Yep, toilet paper. Did that really have to be on a list at all? Then again, we are the culture that came up with pet rocks (still available!) and designer sweatpants (on sale now!!).

Remember, only 7 shopping days until Christmas. Happy Holidays!

(No, I don’t get any compensation from the pet rock people, Saks Fifth Avenue, designer anybody, lava cake bakeries, the Association for the Ethical Treatment of Fruitcake (EAT-Fruitcake), toilet paper, and Country Living magazine.) (Although I do subscribe to Country Living so if they want to gift me a couple years renewal I won’t argue.) (If they want to cancel me, I will argue.) (If you haven’t already figured it out, EAT-Fruitcake doesn’t really exist, at least as far as I know. That was supposed to be funny.) (Come on! I said supposed to.)