Is it Me???

Today in Court I was reminded of a blog I intended to write last year, but never got around to it.

I was coming out of the mens room when a woman started to walk in, There is a bit of a vestibule after the door before the actual facilities, so it wasn't as bad as it could have been. I gently informed her that she was entering the mens room. She still hesitated ( based on her look and accent, I would have to say she wasn't  born in this country), started to come in, then thought a little better of the situation, went out to check the picture on the door, ( it might be different in her country of origin, but I don't see how, and then asked me where the women's room was. I pointed it out to her, on the other side of the hall, but did not feel compelled to walk her in to it.

So this brought back memories of last year. Before Bug switched to his current dorm room, we took a tour of the general facilities of the dorm. They included an extensive shower/bathroom setup. As we were walking through the bathroom section, there was a woman in there with a security uniform on.

Just walking through.

A mens dormitory's bathroom.

I thought it a bit odd, ( what was she looking for? females? look in a mirror, honey.) so I mentioned to the main guard upstairs that perhaps they should not assign the mens locker/shower/bathroom to a female guard. I hope the suggestion was well taken, and taken as well.

Then a few days later I was at a wedding at a very nice hall on Long Island. I was using the facilities that are attached to the wall, and on the same basic wall as the sinks. Next thing I know, the door opens, and in comes a woman. I double checked that the unit I was using is generally only found in a mens rooms (so I was sure i was in the right place, whats good for the goose, etc.) it was indeed a mens room. I thought at first perhaps she made a mistake, but no, she started to clean the bathroom

with men in it

actually using the facilities.


I began to think it was me, but then just chalked it up to weird coincidences.

Until today .....

More Eats

Although people have the feeling that I have become preoccupied with food, this isn't really the case. I pretty much have always been preoccupied with food, which would explain both the inordinate amount of time spent on waffles and the sixty extra pounds I was carrying around.

So with that out of the way, let's talk food!

As I have stated, my goal is to re-create the foods that I should no longer eat with a reasonable facsimile thereof.

So the latest ones where tortilla chips with the help of FBB from Iceberg Carwash. We took corn tortillas, cut them in quarters, spiced and baked them. Not bad, but we needed to tweak it a bit. I think making them from scratch with spices in the batter would probably come out better  when chipifying them.

Then it was on to smores. Rice cakes, marshmallows and chocolate sauce. Not bad. I felt decadent.

But light.

All is Not Right in Paradise

I went to vote this week for the school budget and the school board.  What happened there was beyond appalling.

As you drive in to the parking lot of the school, there were two guys handing out a card ( well away from the limits set for electioneering). As I wanted to follow their position for candidates, I took the card, parked and went in to vote.

As soon as I walk in, a guard, who works for the school stem and is not in favor of the position that I am concerning the school budget, yells at me that I can't have that card out and I have to put it away. As I am not yet ready to vote, since I am on line to register, I fold up the card and put it in my jacket pocket.

I then get my ballot, and go over to the little booths they now have set up. Its a table with sides that go up on three sides. As I put down my ballot in my own, (supposedly) private, booth, the guard and some other pompous jerk who is masquerading as an election official come over to me and start shouting that I can't have the card out. I scanned the names I wanted, just to be sure, and handed the card to someone ( I decided they weren't even worth a look), voted and left.

As I left, I thought about the matter and decided that I would not let it stand. I went back inside and asked the guard for his supervisor, he told me ( surprise, surprise) that his supervisor wasn't there. ( I think that is the first thing they teach them in guards for idiots 101, if ever questioned, there is NEVER anyone above them available to rein them in.)

I then said to some belligerent election official who came over  (who my children later informed me was the same one who came over to harass me in the booth, but I didn't know that since I never looked up) that they have no right to come over to the booths, look what I am doing in the booth, and then harass and try to intimidate me. I told him that is by far a bigger violation of any election law than having the names of who you vote for with you in your private voting booth. They disagreed.

I then decided the best thing to do was leave, and if the results had not turned out the way I wanted, I would probably take this up a level, but I don't have to at this point.

To Eat or Not to Eat

So I am really trying to figure this diet thing out. The correct thing to do would be to talk to a nutritionist. however, I didn't become a doctor without having a basic rudimentary knowledge of nutrition. ( please don't comment on this, I am well aware that it is nonsense, just let it ride.)

So I hear that it is good to eat fish. Even salmon. I asked my panel of experts what they do with salmon, and if it is high in fats. they told me it is, but is is supposed to be good for you.  So we have been buying different kinds of fish and I went down to the pool ( freezer) to compare the different types of fish. Tilapia has one gram of fat per 4 ounces. Sounds good. Flounder has one and half for the same size portion, bring it on. ( Unfortunately I worry that the taste is on par with the fat content, low.) Then it was on to a can of tuna. one gram for two ounces, which relates to two grams of fat for the same size 9 at least my brain works, so the fish must be working).

Then I looked at the salmon

holy cow, or maybe we should eat the cow, it can't be higher.

a seven ounce piece has 20 GRAMS OF FAT with 7 SATURATED

I really need to figure this out.

Today, it's the Food

So the truth is, when you don't really get outside much for days on end, there isn't much that happens to write about. I mean, I check the surrounding area each day for wildlife, and then I see what there is for me to eat.

So to start with the continued waffle quest, I went back to the original waffle I made, which my tasters/critics/daughters have always told me was the only one with any taste, and I made it again, with my added improvements noted on the recipe.  The only mistake I made was to substitute half the whole wheat for regular, instead of all the whole wheat. I will try that next.

However, I upped the temperature on the cooking, and it really came out good. Put on some fat free ice cream, chocolate and maple syrup and you are in for quite a treat! We had them for supper the other night and everyone was full. Then we made one for Soupeater, and even HE liked it this time. (Even though it was basically the same recipe, the tweaks make a big difference.)

So now I am trying to to see how many foods that are now off limits to me I can duplicate. here's a teaser, Falalfel is first.

Update

So even though I am supposed to be recovering, my relentless critics have not been shy in telling me that since I have soooo much time on my hands, I should be writing lengthy and detailed blogs.

Alas, I don't want my readers to lose interest as I meander through the intricacies of bypass surgery. So I have decided that when Lovey has enough off me just sitting around, and I am forced to make dinners, along with my quest of the perfect fat free foods, I really should have a lot more to talk about.

I also have the attention span of that woodchuck, who has wisely decided to lay low for a while, and has not been out when I pass by the window.

My Country

Even though i was planning to basically make this a cooking blog, I have succumbed to the pressures of the readership ( Ok, One reader) and shall expand the repertoire.

Since I am now at home during the day,  I have noticed some interesting things that are going on around the house.

The first thing I noticed is that there is a really really brave ( and foolish) woodchuck who has re-invaded the hole that I gassed and sealed up last year. As I went past my window this morning, I saw him standing there on his hind legs, like a sailor at sea, surveying the endless undulation of the waves. Needless to say, my greeting to him was not Ahoy. 

Later int he day I discovered, to my growing chagrin, that it appears that a woodpecker has decided to confuse old siding for a tree, and he is drilling on the house with his head attempting to make a nest.  

This birdbrain did not even get the benefit of a greeting, as I only heard the sound, and need to determine where on the house he is looking to put in his annex.

Stay tuned to see how Little House in the Woods turns out. 

What's to Eat?

OK folks, before you all go and get cozy in your recliners waiting for more updates or pithy comments on the Cardiac Condition, I just want to remind you of a few things.

1.    I obsess about waffles
2.    The first waffle quest was for the effect FAT FREE waffle
3.    I now must eat FAT FREE

so, putting it all together, you can assume that WE ARE GOING ON ANOTHER QUEST to find the perfect fat free waffle, since that is what i now have to eat, along with seaweed and cardboard.

Now my schedule tells me that i need to take a nap, so I have to go.

Back Again, AND Alive B"H

As many of you dear readers are by now no doubt aware, I had a small cardiac event followed by some additional, far more significant surgery.

As I now have nothing but time on my hands, as well as a new source of material, I really should write every day.

That doesn't mean I will, but you should check and see.

THE EMPTY LAND

Aahh! I'm back in the high plains. Coming into Rick Husband Airport, at about 5,000 feet just after sunset, the emptiness of the plains glaringly announces itself. One sees the truly huge rectangles of cultivated land or the perfect giant circles of center pivot irrigated land marching in serried ranks to the horizon 90 miles away.

The local roads dividing the plots of land in all this vast panorama, are empty of traffic except for two cars in the far distance, who are driving towards me, their headlights illuminated. Along the roads, clusters of farm buildings and their attached farmhouses sparsely dot the landscape, little spots of habitation randomly scattered, miles from each other, on a checkerboard of browns and greens.

Viewed from 3000 feet up, the windmills, normally seen as giant towers of gleaming steel, look more like sticks of silver birch in a midwinter forest.

It is dark as we land and I can't see the cattle grazing in the fields or the lumbering diesels puffing streams of smoke as they haul their load of 150 or so containers on flatbeds across the treeless plains nor yet the oilfield jacks pumping their liquid gold from the depths of the earth.

That will have to wait until tomorrow.

Mayor Moron Update

Just to update you on the idiocy of New York's mayor.

First, he stops the donations of food to shelters because they don't meet the criteria of healthy food. FOR HOMELESS PEOPLE!!!!!

who have NOTHING to eat.

So, on principle, they have to starve instead of eating fatty and salty food, or they can get food that the city, which has no money, has to pay for.

Issue 2. They have no money because they spend, i think the number was 17 million on overtime for those crackpots living in the parks downtown. Instead of throwing them out after the first week, like he should have done.

So in order to get money, this cretin VETOES a bill that would have given a five minute grace period to drivers trying to put money on a muni meter, and ensure that a ticket for an upside down tag is dismissed if the appropriate time was paid for. His reasoning was as follows:

That a traffic enforcement cop would not give a ticket to someone who was at the meter trying to get it to work ( I have stood there for over 5 minutes trying to get my credit card to work sometimes). This presupposes that the traffic cops are not the laziest city employees on the planet, and cant be bothered to actually look, check to see if someone is attempting a transaction, and go over to them to ask which is their car. Trust me, its NEVER gonna happen.

Then they say they started writing the ticket, so the heck with you .

But his best logic? That people are going to pay for the meter AFTER they get the ticket, and avoid paying when they park, so the law is flawed.

This has got to be the STUPIDEST thing I have ever heard a government official claim, which is really saying something. Let's see, someone parks for an hour, and STANDS AROUND waiting for a traffic cop to write him a ticket, and THEN quickly, WITHIN 5 MINUTES goes and buys time. Does this make any sense??? The slim chance that someone will show up just when they are getting a ticket and game the system is the reason why the idiot vetoed the law.

Actually, it is just another way for him to tax the heck out of anyone in New York.

Until it is only him left. And a bicycle.

Yummy????

One of my sisters, known as GFM, who has been quoted quite often lately on these pages, has a rule about her car. No yogurt or herring may be eaten. I always wondered about this rule, until one of my kids started to eat a yogurt, and I almost passed out while driving from trying not to gag.

The herring rule makes more sense to me, although I was hoping never to have to actually put the rule to the test.

Well, I had the misfortune of being on the Monsey bus a while ago. I have seen all kinds of meals being eaten, but this morning was special. I generally put in earplugs when I take the bus so I am not disturbed by conversations or cell phones ringing when I try to sleep. I also cannot deal with the sounds of "shmecking". So i fortunately had in my earplugs when the gentleman next to me started rooting around in his bag,

First came out the orange, I can deal with that, so the delicious citrus aroma did not bother me a bit. After dispatching with that,however, he reached in to his bag and out came bowl with some semi liquid concoction that positively REEKED of fish. It appeared to become form of herring in a kind of sauce, which he attacked with much gusto.

I really wished for a pair of nose plugs at that point, thinking of GFM the entire time.

I'M BAAAACK

I FINALLY have blogger back where I can access it easily.

Therefore, my excuse for not writing is now gone.

I shall have to come up with another one, I guess.

We Have Peace in Our Time... England or America?

And they say at least he is intelligent. I beg to differ.

So we have a mistaken burning of some religious articles during a sweep of things used for terror. The "offended" party uses this to raise a tremendous ruckus, and the President of the United States, the current occupant of the White House, the leader of the free world APOLOGIZES!!!!!

Let's analyze this. We have a bunch of hysterical fanatics who are screaming and yelling over some perceived slight, and the supposed offending party, in a mistaken believe that if they follow a policy of appeasement, it will defuse the situation, decides to apologize. Which does no good, leads to more (planned) rioting, threats against the offending country, and world sympathy.

I was just at the Holocaust museum in Washington. they have a whole section on the Nazi propaganda machine.

The Arabs have learned their lessons well.

Our Jackwagon in Chief has learned nothing.

YOU VENAL HYPOCRITES!

Here's an excerpt from the news report of the latest town council meeting of Happy Valley, Grey County, TX*.

"Decline an offer from Tried and True Wireless LLC* to lease the town’s Iron Lake Pumping Station* for the installation of a cellular communications tower because of potential health hazards and detrimental impact on property values."

If I have ever seen a purer form of bovine excrement, I can't remember it.

Health hazards from a communications tower? Detrimental impact on property values? If there is any impact at all, it is miniscule in order of magnitude, like an angstrom to a light year, in comparison with the impact on property values of the multi-family housing projects that have been approved over the voters' objections, the confiscatory property taxes which threaten to make our properties unsalable, the increasing density caused by a total disregard of the zoning laws, and the myriad other expenditures which menace our homeowners with the specter of a town bankruptcy.

By the way, this was the only item, the entire night, among a host of frivolous expenditures, which, although it actually would have brought some revenue into the town, that was rejected.

I guess Tried and True* didn't pay enough to our worthy councilmen.

*Not their real names to protect both the innocent and the guilty

Really??

I saw something truly disturbing the other day. I was driving in upper Manhattan and I passed a car from a driving school. The car had its flashers on, and appeared to be waiting for someone, probably a student.

The instructor was oriental.

Neither rain nor sleet nor snow nor retirement...

The other day, I received, among the usual junk in my mailbox, a photocopied, handwritten note from my mailman to the effect that he was throwing in the towel after 46 years with the post office.

Only recently, maybe a few weeks ago, I was standing by my mailbox when he pulled up, so he handed me my mail. I don't remember another instance of having met him or any other mailman (if indeed there has been another mailman in the 33 years of my residence here)and I would not recognize him again from this brief encounter and would not have recognized him then were it not for the fact that he was delivering my mail and driving the mail truck. Even then, I could not be sure it was the same fellow. I don't think he is a Cal Ripkin-like figure who has faithfully delivered the mail every mail day for the past 46 years and there may have been many other mailmen in my life, unbeknownst to me.

Right now, I am mulling over my response to his messsage and have sort of decided to buy a card for someone embarked on retirement and maybe leave him a bottle of wine as a token of my appreciation for his unobtrusive devotion to increasing the amount of paper garbage generated by my household, which, by the way, has led to my familiarity with the recycling team with whom I am only slightly better acquainted.

The whole scene with my mailman here in the country is in stark contrast to my experience decades ago in Manhattan. I lived in a six story apartment building with about 48 apartments and there, I was very well acquainted with my mailman. Probably because he would spend about half an hour a day in our building, sorting and placing mail in the individual mailboxes; and while a whole coterie of building residents waited for him to finish, we became his friends.

I remember the scene vividly. A little after 8:30 in the morning, a small crowd would gather in the area of the lobby which contained the mailboxes. They were located in an ill lit area behind the stairway and contained several rows of individual mailboxes with hinged doors about 4 inches wide and maybe 8 inches high. each mailbox had a unique key and was assigned to a particular apartment. Above these boxes was another single hinged door which ran along the top of the mailboxes and could be opened with a master key, which revealed, when opened, the open tops of the individual mailboxes. The mail was inserted into the individual boxes and the large door was locked by the mailman and all was secure.

The mailman, carrying a sack of mail and later using a trolley to carry it, would show up, get comfortable, fill his pipe with tobacco and get it going with a few aromatic puffs. He would then open the master door and reach in to the leftmost mailbox and pull out an electric light bulb which he screwed in to the socket above the boxes, enabling him to do his job. Then the fun would begin . Correspondents were supposed to write the apartment number as part of the address but this was not always done. He would pull a stack of letters out of his bag and taking each individual one, look at it, tap the bottom edge of the envelope against the edge of the mailboxes, either to see the address clearly if it was in a loose window envelope or maybe just as a habit, sort of like someone saying "eh" when contemplating his next words. He did need time to process where to put the mail, especially when the address did not show an apartment number. Sometimes he would hand mail to one of the waiting crowd whom he recognized. He sometimes had to struggle to get a large or bulky envelope into the narrow sheath of the mailbox (not a patch on the struggle by the subscriber to get it out)and sometimes he was baffled as to where to put the mail. He once complained, after the neighborhood had become more hispanic, "There are five Gonzales' here and they say to me 'watch!'." When I came home in the evenings there were always letters laying around near the mailboxes which apparently had been misdirected.

When he finished delivering the mail, he would unscrew the light bulb, put it in its place, slam the large door with the key in the lock which was attached to a long thong connected to his belt. We would say good bye, everyone would scramble to get the mail out of their box, and the crowd would disperse with their bills and dunning notices, until the next day.

Ah, how I love the country.

Out of the Fog

I was driving this morning on the Tappan Zee bridge in a very thick fog. As I toodled along, I thought that the drive was a good metaphor for life. I was on the long, low part, completely covered by the fog so that I couldn't see the water at all, and I couldn't see that far ahead either. So here I am, just going along with just the people around me, with no ability to see the future. Just like in life, we go on surrounded by the people around us, all heading into the future on faith. We assume that there is a road ahead of us, and we drive towards it expecting a good outcome.

Then the sun came out, and I just kept going.

Missing in Action

I know that I have not been posting lately. This is largely due to me being blocked at work from access to my blogger account, and no (real) internet at home. I am working to remedy the situation at work, but today I have the trusty laptop and access to the internet through the Court systems wifi in the courthouse. (Your tax dollars at work!). Well, they are about to call the calendar, so I have to get off now.

Until I get access or appear in Court again.

An Allegory

Many decades ago, I was invited to my brother's new suburban home for a Sunday barbecue. When my sister-in-law needed to purchase some hamburger buns or rye bread - I forget which - I volunteered to drive to the bakery and make the purchase. I was unfamiliar with the area at the time and, while willing to go into town, I didn't know where to go.

The bakery was designated by the locals as "Mrs. Frank's". To ease my way - this was before GPS - my 15 year old nephew was designated to ride shotgun and tell me exactly where to drive. He assured me he knew exactly what we were looking for. We got into my car and sped away in the direction of the center of town. As we neared the center, I asked him where to turn and he told me to just keep on going. Following his direction, I continued on past the main intersection in town heading towards the east end. I was certain we had missed the place and kept asking him if he was sure he knew where to go and he told me, "of course I do, I go this way every day," which, while slightly encouraging, didn't mean that he knew where I wanted to go. We continued in this vein for another mile or so and I was sure he had no idea. Suddenly, we approached a run down building that at one time was a private house and now boasted a sign "FRANK'S SUPERETTE."

My nephew pointed it out and told me that this was the place. Okay, I didn't know what I was to expect and he seemed so sure that I skeptically pulled to the curb, again asking him, as we got out of the car, if he was sure that this was the place. He again replied in the affirmative. I went in to find a small grocery store with a deli counter at one end. The price list showed an array of products, including pork chops and ham sandwiches among more innocuous fare. Now I knew I was in the wrong place and shamefacedly, we left the premises and returned home sans baked goods. (We didn't have cell phones then, either.)

I subsequently moved to the same area and in the ensuing years, whenever we passed Frank's Superette, we recalled the incident which had become a family joke. Over the years, Frank's closed and the building was abandoned and thereafter was razed. The property stood empty and unused for many years, the grass growing tall and finally being overcome by weeds.

This morning I chanced to pass by and to my surprise a brand new building in the style of Rite-Aid or CVS with a paved parking lot, stood on the site.

Sic transit gloria mundi.