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.

Rounds on the House

I have a family member who likes a particular drink. Let's call her generiic family member, of GFM for short.

The drink in question shall be called Fun in the Sand, or FIS for the purposes of this post.

Now that that technical stuff is out of the way, let us proceed.

I had some pineapple juice left over from a recipe that Lovey made, so I decided to see what drink I could mak using it, since most people don't open a fridge and exclaim " WOW! pineapple juice! I am SOOO excited".

Well, I had recently taken out some bartender books, so I perused them with the help of Bug to see if there were any with pinapple juice in them. While I was doing this, I decided to try the FIS drink with it, as it calls for orange juice usually. As I sat there sipping the drink, having not found any that contain pineapplle juice that were actually do-able with my supplies at hand (What is Creme De Noyoux anyhow?) , I decided to check out the FIS recipies.

Image my surpirse when one of the books had the recipe as orange OR pineapple juice!

So this weekend we had GFM and I made the drink with pineapple juice. She deemed it passable good. I was quite pleased.

Now to figure out what to do with the leftover gravy.

I'm Sorry

You know you are having a positively awful day when you send the following text to someone.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you, it was uncalled for."

It's even worse when that person happens to be your boss.

And it really shows how bad the day is when you have to then cut and paste the message and send it to ANOTHER friend.

Backspace Delete

You learn something new every day. I recently picked up an Apple laptop which does not have a backspace button. I mentioned this to a Mac user that I know, who told me that you just get used to it, I also noticed that my Blackberry didn't have a backspace, only a delete button, and I managed to get used to that, so I guess I would just have to get used to it on the laptop as well, even though it can be a bit cumbersome.

However, quite by accident, I discovered on my Blackberry, while editing some numbers and using the alt button and delete, it becomes a backspace.

Bolstered and encouraged by this new information, I figured there HAS to be a way to get to the backspace function on a really powerful, really new laptop. So instead of bothering to research the issue, or actually reading a manual, I happened to have been in the Apple store, so I decided to ask someone, assuming they would know. Sure enough, he told me the function key and delete makes it a backspace ( which is actually kind of intuitive).

So now I am happier in my knowledge than I had been in my ignorance.

Family

Yesterday was a really good day. I spent time with my parents and all of my siblings.

'nuff said.

Pizza Party?

The other night I went out to eat with Lovey for her birthday ( somewhat belated, for all of you who might be getting nervous). We decided to go dairy, as that is her usual preference. Now I am a somewhat predictable guy with some real prejudices when it comes to certain dairy foods, facts that are well known to the members of my family. However, I decided to live dangerously and ordered the salmon.

When we got home, I was on the phone with Related, who, when I informed her that i had gone to AL Di La asked me if I had ordered the personal pizza, my usual favorite. I informed her that I had indeed ordered salmon.

Then I spoke to Stretch. I asked him to guess what I had ordered, and the answer was ….. a personal pizza.

Finally, I was talking to Soupeater, and he asked me how the dinner was, followed by " You certainly didn't order fish"

I give up.

Next time I think I will stick with the pizza

More Please

I see that our posting volume has decreased significantly over the past years ( we started the blog at the end of 2008, and pro-rated would have written 360 posts that year). 2009 was 106, 2010 was 88 and we are sitting at 68 now.

It's not like we have less to say ( just ask the family), its just that we have been busy, I guess.

However, that is not fair to all of you who faithfully follow us, hoping for a tidbit to enliven up your day.

So therefore I shall endeavor to write more in the month remaining, similar to the experiment back in August, where we managed to get out 17 posts. Hopefully we can to around 20 for December, to at least stay current with last year's output.

Then we will have something to shoot for in January, 360 posts.

Right.

Green Friday V

Once again i had the opportunity to indulge one of my favorite pastimes,shopping on Black Friday. this year's appliance that I decided to use for my quest was a deep fryer, to aid in my newest food obsession, making Kibbeh. Last year, after spending all morning looking for a waffle maker ( and you all know how THAT turned out). So as I was finally successful at Kohls, and as they were opening up at 12, I decided to go there first.

So off we went at 11:45 to wait for the midnight opening. Once again me and Bug, as well as a friend of his. We waited on line for the fifteen minutes, and then stormed the doors as they opened. I got the deep fryer,which seemed to take all the wind out of my sails. However, I went home to bed, with dreams of other fantastic deals dancing in my head.

The next morning it was off to Walmart ( of course0) for many items I don't really need, but at least the store was relatively empty, as it usually is at that time. Then it was off to the mall, and all the usual spots, Staples ( for the annual Bluetooth) , Brookstone, Bed Bath and Beyond, Radio Shack and the Apple store, where the computer i was planning to get anyhow (and the one I am writing this on) was on sale for $100 off.

After that we went to Sears to pick up my annual radar detector, and then to Home Depot to see if they had any more flashlights, since I only have about 30.

As I walked int he store, I picked up the flyer, but nothing really caught my eye. Then I saw, by the tractors, one grill. I told the boys with me, let's go look at that grill.

I had been looking for a new Weber grill all season, but then never seem to go on sale. I wanted to upgrade from my old ( about 17 years) one, which goes for $400, and the price for the next level is $500 ( but the DO last a long time). I saw that it was indeed a Weber, and it was the second level up, as well as being stainless, and having a side burner as well ( Also, all Home Depot Webers come with cast iron grates, a $30 upgrade over the regular porcelain coated ones). It was indeed on sale, reduced from $630 to $400. As i had wanted one, had lots of people to help me carry it, and was in buying mode, I picked it up and danced home (figuratively) with it.

As that was the big score of the day, and it was getting late, I curtailed the rest of the shopping to picking something up in Costco and proceeding home.

So I can catalogue everything for Lovey to return.

Public Transportation

I was in the City on Friday, down on Water Street, and I needed to go to 1st Avenue in the 20s to catch a ride home. So I decided to take a bus that would go up the east side, since the trains involve a lot of cross town action.

As I approached the bus stop, I saw ahead of me a bus in the travel lane parallel to the bus stop. ( It didn't look as if the bus had stopped there). However, this did not really compute in my brain until later. I figured I would catch the next bus. So I was waiting by the stop when a bus again pulls up to the light in the travel lane. I call out to the driver and ask why he isn't stopping and opening the doors, he shouts back ( without opening the door) that he is an express bus. So I ask him where the stop is for the express bus, and he indicates that it is further up. Mind you, this is all shouted through a closed door and window, without a doubt heard by all the people in the bus enjoying this drama.

So as the light turns green and the bus pulls away from the light, I take off, all short and fat of me, to run as many blocks as it might take to catch this bus, since the idea of an express appeals to me, as my ride would be ready to leave within a half hour. So I run the first block, and I see that the bus pulls in to the following block. I try valiantly to increase my speed, but it is a losing proposition ( see: short and fat above). However, the bus is still there when I stagger up to it, so I hop in the back, as I have no more strength to make it to the front door, and continue my stagger to the front to pay.

I then realize, to my great consternation, that this is one of the new express buses where you pay outside, similar to a subway. The idea is great, in that people just get on and off, and there is no delay for the passengers to pay the driver. However, this does not work so well for me, as I have just jumped on the bus.

So I ask the driver, oh, I have to pay outside on this one, and I jump off the bus, and look stupidly at the three machines there, in my extreme haste to (1) not have the driver leave me there, and (2) not unduly hold up the bus for all the passengers already on the bus who actually know how to use the new system.

However, as I am both out of breath and discombobulated, I just look at the machine. The driver then shouts to me to come back, I run back to the door, and he tells me push the button on the blue. That is all I hear as I charge back to the machines, since the third one is kind of blue. However, that is (probably) for credit card transactions as is it a different machine than the other two.

So now the driver has just about had it, and he shouts once again at me to come back. I zip back, and he tells me "Go to the first machine, push the button in the middle of the BLUE panel, put your metrocard in on the RIGHT, and take your receipt on the LEFT, don't worry, I'll wait for you." (He really was a nice and patient transit employee.) So reassured and properly directed, I ran again to the machine, pushed the button, slammed my card in the slot on the right, hopped a bit waiting for the receipt ( Three seconds, maybe?) and grabbed my card and the receipt, and dashed back on to the bus.


To the thunderous applause of all the passengers.


Who I then had to walk through, to get a seat in the back, nodding and bowing, thanking them and apologizing.


When I finally sat down, some kind soul, trying to be nice, told me not to worry, but managed to make it even worse by telling me that he watched and listened to the whole event for two blocks ( I assume that included the original shouting through the door) and saw me running, and really didn't think I would make it.


Next time, I think I'll drive.

8000

While we have been away celebrating the holidays and not posting, we went over the 8,000 hits mark. Maybe the way to generate hits is to actually not post anything, and just have everyone come and look. I have researched the timing from 7,000 to 8,000 to see if this theory holds up. Actually, the numbers are interesting in how they trend.

First of all, keep in mind that in August we attempted to post almost every day to see if it could be done, and if it would create more traffic. With that in mind, here are the numbers.

It took 143 days to go from 6,000 hits to 7,000. During that time , we posted 39 times, an average of one every 3.6 days.

It then took 231 days to get to 8,146 (since I haven't checked the site in a while, apparently, I am not sure when we got to 8,000). During this period we posted 48 times, including the August experiment. That comes out to one post every 4.8 days. ( I feel like MBB with all my percentages)

So the theory of posting less often would seem to bear this out. However, as we post in bursts, it isn't really fair to use this analysis, so I propose a different one.

In the 6,000 to 7,000 time period, there were ten (10) posts on waffles, that comes out to 14.3 days per waffle post. In the 7,000 to 8,000 period, I think there were two waffle posts, that comes out to 115.5 days per waffle post. So the more waffle posts, the faster we get to the next level.

I see the trend folks, BRING ON THE WAFFLES!

GILAD, WE'RE HAPPY YOU'RE SAFE, BUT........

There are celebrations among two diverse groups in the middle east today. The one in Gaza and West Bank is understandable. The arabs, enemies of Israel, are delirious over their ability to have their murderers, thieves, terrorists - criminals all - released from Israeli jails to join the continued fight against Israel. People who should have been executed will now be returned to their families scot free. Truly cause for celebration.

The celebration on the other side of the green line is mystifying to me. Yes, if I were a close relative or friend of Gilad Shalit I would be unrelievedly joyous to have my son, brother or other loved one returned from the hell of the past five years. But in the big picture, our beloved nation is bleeding and, if anything, this deal with Hamas has opened a new vein.

The lopsided numbers don't make sense. We know from experience that the arabs will see this as a sign of softness in diplomacy, a sign that we will pay any price to ransom any one of our citizens. What does Netanyahu think will become of the criminals he releases? Does he expect these formerly unemployed troublemakers to suddenly take their place in palestinian society as doctors, teachers, lawyers and community officials? We know they will continue their fight against the nation that has now amnestied them, laughing all the way to the rocket launch site. We know that those who will be exiled to other democratic nations will use their new-found freedom to concoct further mayhem in the relative anonymity afforded them by the liberal governments in whose jurisdiction they will settle. And make no mistake, they always return home, at the head of a violent following to run a country inimical to the welfare and peace of mainstream established nations.

The arabs are now convinced that all it takes to get 1000 of their criminals released from jail is to kidnap a boy barely out of his childhood and then negotiate for as long as it takes.

What Israel desperately needs is a death penalty and a revamping of the judicial mindset that has corrupted the morality of the country and its religious base.

Huh?

Sometimes, the audacity of politicians exceeds even the unbelievably low standards that I expect from them.

I heard our wimpy leader stating that he would no longer defend the Marriage Sanctity law because he believes it is unconstitutional and that it should be repealed like Don't Ask, Don't Tell. So we have a president who had publicly stated that he is no longer going to follow the law of the land because he doesn't feel like it. Forget the problems with this line of reasoning an statement for a moment ( that is for a different time and post).

What really got to me is that the announcer then went on to say that the president continued to say that all the republican candidates MUST support the repeal of Don't Ask, Don't Tell because IT IS THE LAW OF THE LAND!!!!

I guess the best liar with the most Chutzpa really should be the president.

Oh Give Me A Home...

Last week found me looking for a company in Crawfordsville, IN. Or rather, outside of Crawfordsville, IN. Near county road 400 south which translates into a road running east west four miles south of the center of town. The street address was 4414 east which means that it was something more than four miles east of the center of town. The town isn't very big although not small for that part of the country.

I found myself at the intersection of County road 400S and Ladoga road where 400 dead ended. I knew that it must continue somewhere further east but wasn't sure where, so being at a stop sign, I stopped and took up my trusty GPS for a look.

One of the difficulties of doing any kind of manual route planning using a GPS instead of a paper map is that in order to see the whole picture, you need to zoom out to a large scale but then you can't see enough detail to be useful. Then too, each time you zoom in, the place you are looking for appears at a different location on the screen because the scale changes and becomes difficult to find.

Anyway, fooling around with the GPS for a while, I determined how I wanted to go. It struck me that I had spent about 10 minutes at the intersection and in all that time, no one beeped me from behind. In fact, I realized to my amazement that I hadn't seen a single car on either road in either direction.

Here I was, alone, surrounded by a million corn plants and as many soybean bushes their leaves firing in the mid-morning stillness. It isn't empty, it isn't quiet; you can hear the birds calling, the insects buzzing and the plants rustling in an occasional gust of air. It's the solitude, the lack of any other human being in an area encompassing the size of Manhattan.

Truly awesome!

Nobody and Me

This seems to be the season to bash the good Doctor.

I had gone to tovel some things yesterday morning. This morning, Boo asked me why I only did three items when there is a whole box of stuff to be done. I told her that I had only been given the three things, but it would have been a great time to give me more, since the place was empty, or as I put it, " it was empty, just me and my thoughts". Which prompted Lovey to state

"Wow, it was REALLY empty".

Oscar and Me

I was reading comments over at Iceberg Carwash and a look of amusement must have crossed my face.

One of my colleagues passed my office and came to an abrupt stop.

With a look of true concern, he asked me



You're smiling, is everything ok?

Short Takes

A few short observations.

I just heard that US test scores in Math and English Reading have again dipped to the lowest levels ever. We are raising a nation of morons and idiots and no one is doing anything about it.

The drop in payroll taxes instituted in 2008 to ease the growing economic crisis is scheduled to be continued if the jobs bill passes. It's great for the workers, but that is your future Social Security money which isn't being paid into the system, so if one day, you don't collect your Social Security, blame it on this. The truth is that there is no free lunch.

A European official came up with the draconian idea (that is how it is being styled) of separating commercial banking from investment banking. It's no different from Glass-Steagall which turned out was one of the best ideas for keeping the banks from risking your money. To now consider this revolutionary (it was enacted in 1935 and repealed in 1997) is ridiculous.

MICHIANA

40 years is a long time and a lot changes from then till now. A recent visit to the South Bend area illustrates the point.

What hasn't changed (at least not to my uncritical eye) is the lovely St. Joseph river which wends its way through northern Indiana and up into Michigan. In some places along the shoreline of this swift flowing river, the houses which line it as well as the docks and boathouse are almost invisible, screened by heavy forestation but in other places, one sees the typical jumble of boats, docks and house right up against the treeless shore. Driving along either shore, one glimpses short peeks of the dark water wending its way to Lake Michigan as if the water is playing hide-and-seek with the observer. For me, the river dominates the whole of western Michiana.

Cheek by jowl with the natural scenery of the river is the manmade industrial landscape of South Bend. The brick and cement multi level buildings with their mullioned windows, which lined the whole southwestern corner of the city, have slowly given way, over the years, first to other industrial uses but lately to demolition.

The Studebaker automobile company built a huge manufacturing complex here in the early part of the 20th century. A landmark of the period was a building encompassing half a million square feet which stretched along 1500 feet of Sample street, built as Studebaker's engine plant. When the company closed in the 60's the building was taken over by the South Bend Lathe company, the largest lathe manufacturer in the world. They made the best lathes. The company eventually fell on hard times and the building was abandoned. When I first visited South Bend, I was impressed by the size and length of the building and on subsequent visits, it never failed to impress me. When I visited this week the building was no longer there. In its place was partly a cultivated field and partly an excavated demolition site. If the builders could see the site now, reclaimed into the open fields they originally were, what would they think?.

A metaphor for the history of American industry.

9-11 Tragedy or Triumph

9/11 found me in Detroit early in the morning. I had flown in on a ridiculously early flight, especially for a Sunday morning, but such are the vicissitudes of life.

In the days leading up to 9/11/2011 many articles appeared in the media discoursing upon grief, renewal, remembrance, forgiveness and love. Glaringly absent from all this syrupy, touchy-feeley pap was any mention of those who did this to us. It's as if a hurricane or a tornado or some other divine accident caused those towers to fall down. Let's not point any fingers, no one's to blame, let's all hold hands and forgive each other. To paraphrase something I read in a book by Mary Doria Russel, if G-d can forgive this, hell must be an empty place.

Back in Detroit, at the zoo in beautiful late summer weather (similar to conditions on that lovely Tuesday of 9/11), while New York and the nation mourned, I was surprised to see some ragheads, strolling there in full regalia, bold as brass, as if they had nothing to do with 9/11 on its tenth anniversary.

It reminded me of the celebrations in Gaza and other middle eastern cities as the towers collapsed.

WAKE UP AMERICA! Europe has already been overrun, let's not have it happen here.

Reflections on American Business

Note:

I wrote this a month ago after a bout of feckless shopping. I returned to this today after another bout of feckless shopping.

Finally, I bought what I needed from Amazon (a company I dislike for various reasons)with no frustration. I got a better deal than I could get in any store.

As I write this, the American business community is experiencing a blue funk. With nothing to buoy the system, the market has dropped like a stone, presaging another drop in economic activity which the wrangling in congress and the incompetence of our financial controllers has done nothing to prevent.

There exists a lack of sincerity in corporate dealings with both their potential customers and the public at large. They seek to create an image of altruism which is so false that no one is fooled by it. The mystery is why they persist in this nonsense.

Many E-mails today carry an admonition not to print a message unnecessarily in order to save paper. On the other hand, I found this tag line at the bottom of a message today:

Notice: It’s OK to print this e-mail. Paper is a biodegradable, renewable, sustainable product made from trees. Growing and harvesting trees provides jobs for millions of men and women, and working forests are good for the environment, providing clean air, clean water, wildlife habitat and carbon storage. When you are through, please remember to recycle it.

I would be more impressed with this paean to the workers in the forestry industry had it not come from a manufacturer of papermaking machinery.

Products, especially electronic ones, have become increasingly complicated to operate for customer satisfaction. On the other hand, a customer's ability to determine if the product fills the bill for his application has increasingly dwindled. One cannot easily get information about a product from its packaging and the trend in retailing is to discourage hands-on inspection. You are limited to reading the few lines - for which there is still room on the virtually unopenable package - dedicated to product description . Most of the packaging is dedicated to warnings in the nature of "Don't eat the packaging, it will cause stomach aches" or "This knife is a sharp instrument and can cause severe injury when used to assault another human being" and similar messages. Repeating these warnings in three or four languages further diminishes room for substantive product information. Even stores with product displays carry only non-working, facade models which frustratingly can't be moved or picked up and is of no more use than the product's picture on the side of the box.

I visited a Walmart where every model of laptop displayed in their iron fetters had most, if not all, of their keys popped off their keyboards. The sales counters were unmanned and the products were locked behind closed gates.

The importance of customer service in the health of any business is a principle that was inculcated in me by my bosses from the moment I joined the business world. Indeed, even today, good customer relations is a cornerstone of our business. I guess it's a universal concept, but among giant businesses with tens of millions of customers, it is honored more in the breach than in fact.

Case in point: Cellular phone providers. Their first response to anything you say to them is to apologize. They can't seriously be sorry for your troubles because they have just made you wait 15 minutes subjected to loud jungle music interspersed with recorded messages telling you of their commitment to your full satisfaction, etc., etc. If you are lucky enough to get in touch with someone who speaks and understands English you are still not assured of having your question answered, especially if it is technical. This hand-holding is what passes for customer service. The truth is, they don't care! And why should they? They have millions of customers with revenues of billions of dollars; does it really matter if they lose a $600.00 a year customer. They will lose him to the competition, true. But the competition experiences the same scenario so no one loses. They expect their system to run flawlessly, which it usually does, and only have customer service to maintain the public's perception that they are concerned.

Woe to us all. The large retailers both brick and mortar as well as online, Walmart, Home Depot, Amazon, and their ilk have destroyed the hands on shopping experience where once a buyer could touch a product, see a real live product in action, ask questions on its use and features before comitting to a purchase. Today, you can return any product when you have determined it doesn't do what you bought it for, but your waste of time and the disadvantage to the guy who buys the product after you have disassembled and repackaged it with likely some parts missing is UnAmerican!

Once Again into the Breach

As an end of summer treat, the chief multitakser and I took a day off. She from a grueling few weeks of hard work, and I for a pre autumn lazy day.

Of course our destination was once again, Manhattan. There seems to be an unlimited number of things to do there but boiled down, it's the same as can be done elsewhere only without the variety. I do have to admit, though, it's more interesting than the High Plains. All in all, it was a very relaxing day, and I'll tell you why.

I usually get uptight every time I even think of going into the city. It has never completely occured to me why, but yesterday was an exception. We traveled along the Jersey side of the Hudson River, parked the car at Port Imperial in Weehawken and boarded the ferry for the very short trip across the river to land in the heart of Manhattan.

I didn't take my car into the city!

There were no parking problems, and no traffic headaches. When we disembarked, free busses provided by the ferry company were on hand to take us along the main cross streets of midtown Manhattan; 34th, 42nd, 50th, 57th and up to Lincoln Center and even a bus that drove along the west side south of 39th street. These busses can be flagged down along any of the routes in order to get back to the ferry pier and theoretically to travel along the route from point to point. They even have a web site which tracks the busses via GPS so if you have an internet phone, you can check where the busses are at any time.

We took the bus to Times Square. It's been a while since I've been there. Although vehicular traffic still travels through the square many sections of it are closed to traffic and are furnished with small steel folding chairs and round tables where you can eat your lunch or just sit and watch the human traffic go by. And what traffic it is! The sidewalks and the pedestrian malls are so crowded that you can't take a power walk anywhere in the area. The side streets are filled with New Yorkers going about their business, but the more open areas are crowded with tourists and those who live off them. Wherever we walked, there were people selling tickets, mainly to the local theaters but also to sporting events and off Broadway shows not in walking distance of the square. The rest were tourists snapping pictures buying tickets, eating lunch or just sunning themselves in the stunning weather.

After deciding that the "half price" theater tickets sold in the middle of the square would pay about half the national debt, we opted to eat lunch at a fancy New York steak house but didn't have time for steak so settled for soup and salad.

It was a gorgeous afternoon and after walking around some and doing some shopping we decided to head back to the other side of the river. We ate dinner outdoors at a good suburban restaurant. Alls well and it ended well.

August in with a bang/ Out with..... Average

This was supposed to be the month that we rerally banged the post out at an alarming rate. However,I see that it is the end of the month, so I shall take stock on how we did.


Initially, I stated I would not write on the weekends, or jewish fast days. So that knocked out nine days. That left 21. I happened to go way for two days, so if I give myself a grace for those, (even though I got two posts out of the trip), I am down to 19.

We actually put up 17, so I claim the month a success for all the writers here at the good doctor.

Let's see what September brings.

Face, or something else

There was a terrible tragedy in the neighborhood, where a tzadik and a hero lost his life helping to save a little boy. I was on the scene. At one point, I noticed some photographers, so I put up my hood to avoid the cameras.

However, there is a picture of me with two other members. It happens to be the photo link into the pictures of the event on one site. I received an inquiry from a relative in Chicago questioning whether the guy in the middle was me. I went to look at it. It shows me from the back, sagging pants and all. He claims that he could identify me by my stance. It was nice of him to say so.

I was not really happy to be part of the pictorial recording of the horrible event, but that is life. Until i saw the brochure that they put together to raise funds for the family ( here is the link to donate). In the flyer that will go out to the community, there is that same picture. (I think they used it because it is the least offensive of all the pics, but that is for another time.)

So I see now that I am the tush of the organization.

Shake, Rattle and Roll

Last week the entire region experienced what for many was a first time event, an actual earthquake. However, for those of you keen-eyed readers, you will remember that last June (2010) there was an earthquake that was felt in Brooklyn.

This earthquake was felt up the entire eastern seaboard from Virginia to Toronto. It really was scary up on the twelfth floor, with the whole building swaying, and we just being around the corner from the 10th anniversary of 9-11. Everyone in my office beat a hasty but orderly retreat for the street via the stairs. Without a consensus, just natural self preservation. We, at least, had an idea what it was, having felt a more milder version a year ago.

However, this got me to thinking. Three natural phenomena (potential disasters?) in the past calendar year in the New York area. The first significant hurricane in over ten years, preceded by an earthquake felt throughout the New York area, and a tornado in Queens last Fall.

I will assume the message is to change our ways. Quite appropriate this time of the year. G-d is watching and is in control of the world. It is a shame that not everyone can read the signs when they are so clear.

Happy Waffle Day

Wednesday I was out of the office, but I received an e-mail from someone who must read the blogs, or has seen my phone, and is aware of my feelings about waffles. ( Odd, that someone might know that.)

The e-mail told me that Wednesday was National Waffle Day, and I was floating along the Delaware without an outlet in sight for me to plug in my waffle maker and properly celebrate the day. However, all was not lost on the waffle front this past week.

On Saturday night I went out with my siblings because I missed the previous Thursday night get together.

We went to a dairy place. As I was perusing the menu, I noted out loud, " look, they have Belgian Waffles!" later in the evening, they brought a waffle to one of the tables near us, and I again exclaimed , in keeping with my image of being totally obsessed about the delectable versatile edible syrup holder, "oh look, a Belgian Waffle!"

My loving family, taking advantage of the wonders of texting technology, along with my complete cluelessness about everything around me, secretly went an ordered one for me and Lovey to commemorate a special day for us. I was touched and thrilled. It was absolutely delicious and enjoyed by all. Here is what it looked like.


Amazing, isn't it? And it tasted as good as it looked. The best part of it, though, was a comment from one of my siblings, I don't remember which one, who said

Don't forget to save a piece for Boo so she can give HER opinion on it.

Bad Advertising

I was in Port Jervis yesterday to float down the Delaware with the family. After the trip, the place you rent the boats from drives you back from the river to your car. I was looking out the window and saw a funeral home. A couple of blocks later, I saw another funeral home. I thought this was a little odd, two in a row, but the next building really struck me as out of place, (or perhaps the others were in the right place).

it was the local hospital.

HELP!

You'll never believe what I found when I came home today!










See below












Is this revenge?

Some people never learn.

Of Pineapples and Peaches

When I arrived home last night, I noticed, in place of the rotting melon, a beautiful large pineapple and a box of 12 of the largest peaches I have ever seen. Obviously the chief multi-tasking householder had again been busy at Costco.

From previous experience, I think the pineapple will slowly wither, become spongy, and generate fruit flies before ultimately accounting for part of the 20lbs of garbage I heft outside every Monday and Thursday morning and every Friday afternoon.

The peaches as well don't have too much hope. I'll tell you why. Last night I was attempting to explain a principle of astronomy to one of my children and since I was in my kitchen at the time, I spied the peaches and quickly picked one up to demonstrate the principle physically, intending to use the peach to represent the earth. A loud protest from the chief multi-tasking householder indicated that I was not to touch the peaches. I remonstrated that I was only using the peach as a prop, not intending to eat such a delectable morsel, which mollified her a bit. It was a sure sign that the peach was to be left to begin its long decline into ballast for our tall kitchen garbage bags and our obligation to continue justification for the town's payment to its trash collectors.

I asked Ms Multi-tasker "What about melons? I don't see any here."

"I'm buying them tomorrow."

Breakfast for Prayers

We were in Baltimore for the weekend. At the beginning of the services, a man walked in with his son. The son was holding an ordinary looking plastic shopping bag, not bulging or anything. I thought to myself, "Oh no, this is not going to end well". Generally when the kids come that prepared, its because they are unable to sit quiet for more that ten seconds.

However, he was sitting quietly, but immediately started to eat. "here comes the shmecking" I thought, but I was pleasantly surprised, as he opened a baggie full of cereal, made a brocho, and commenced to munch with his mouth closed. I was thrilled.

After the cereal came cookies and then mentos. These are NOT quiet, and the chewing got a lot louder, specifically noticeable because this was the one part of the services that are REALLY quiet. Except for the shmecking. Oh well, I guess that is the hazard of being near a child who came to shul for breakfast. ( I wonder if this is the root cause of future "Kiddush Club" members?)

This kids was not at all heavy, but there were more cookies, then some wafers. I am pretty sure there were more goodies that I just don'[t remember all of them, as I couldn't write down all that came out of this miraculous bag. I was beginning to think that this bag had Mary Poppins like properties, and was tempted to see if there was a lamp somewhere in the bag.

Eventually the services ended, I assume before the snacks ran out.

Of Money and Melons

I don't know when I last looked but I am quite sure that this morning, our refrigerator was still well stocked with cherries and grapes. When I got home this afternoon, there were none to be found. Also missing was the spongy, hollow-feeling cantaloupe - the last of the original three - which only this morning was lying on a kitchen counter slowly deteriorating before our eyes.

I asked the chief, multi-tasking, householder about the cherries and grapes and she told me that they had been finished. Skeptically, I asked her if they had been disposed of and I was assured that they had been eaten.

"What about the melon?" I asked. Not being able to plausibly tell me that it had also been eaten, she agreed that it had been tossed.

"So, one's been given away, and one's been thrown out. Not very economical"

"Yes," came the reply. "I'll have to buy some more."

Important Activities

I was reading one of the Jewish newspapers the other day and came upon this piece in the News sections from different neighborhoods. The article mentioned that a certain leader of a small sect in some town in the Netherlands was going on holiday in Switzerland, and before he went, he had a Tish, spoke about the importance of learning, and gave out cake. This was accompanied further along in the paper in the pictures of notable events section with a picture of some plates of cake, (no picture of the ditributor of the goodies) and the heading, that this was the cake given out as mentioned in the previous article.

So lets see, a guy goes on vacation, has a little goodbye party for his friends and gives them cake.


THIS IS NEWSWORTHY????????

A Slice of Life

Today is the 21st anniversary of the passing of my grandfather. we had a little get together last night, consisting of three of his sons, four grandsons, two grandson in laws, a granddaughter, granddaughter in law, and three four daughters in law.

Someone mentioned that he had not spoken about him at the gathering, the answer given was, we all knew who he was. I was thinking about this, and his living legacy. Here is what I came up with.

Of the seven direct descendants there, all were EMTs having served or currently serving on volunteer ambulance squads, six have led High Holiday Services, three (that I know of) currently serve on synagogue boards, and that is what is publicly known, and off the top of my head. I am sure there is more that done that I don't even know about.

Enough said, I think.

Costco Revisited

Much as last year, I again find myself with a refrigerator full of fruits and vegetables which I know is going to waste

4 lbs of grapes
4 lbs of cherries
2 lbs of blueberries
Strawberries (cant find the container so don't know how much)
2 huge cantaloupes (1 already gifted; they come in threes)
Peppers
12 medium to large plum tomatoes

I am adamant that 2 people, no matter how dedicated can't finish all this before it either rots or we do.

So today for lunch here was the main (and only) dish

Unfortunately, about 90% of the inventory is still above ground.

Just Asking

Little bit of politics, especially the double standard.

i read in the paper that Al Sharpton got all huffy with Pat Buchanan for referencing our Dear Leader as "your boy", meaning, obviously, that Sharpton supports him. Buchanan, whatever else you feel about him, rightly refuses to apologize for the deliberate misunderstanding on the part of the rabblerouser. The paper noted that it was uncomfortable, because Buchanan was sitting next to someone just back from a suspension for "insulting the president" on MSNBC.

My only thought on this was that for eight years, the left wing liberals called the President the most horrific names constantly, and belittled him mercilessly. Without any ramifications whatsoever.

When did the first amendment stop applying to comments about Black Democrats?

Enjoy below.

Not wishing to interfere with the lively discussion going on, I shall keep today's post short, so people dont miss Soupeater's below.

Karl Marx Lives at Iceberg-Carwash

Our friends over at Iceberg Carwash have gone, unfortunately, Red. I couldn't believe that these staunch supporters of the capitalist ethic should suddenly veer of the road into the mire of socialist thinking. And not just the writers of the blog but even some of their loyal followers have suddenly confessed to heretical thoughts and long held left-wing opinions.

This is tragic.

Essentially as you can see from the blog post to which I refer they are proposing that social security be paid into by everyone but its purpose would be to benefit only those who need it, based on the old communist motto "From each according to his ability, to each according to his means." Even worse, they propose to confiscate the monies already paid to the system in the belief it would be for the contributors' retirement and convert the pension plan, with a guaranteed payout, into an insurance plan for those whose wealth has diminished. Also, since social security is now, and in order to be effective would have to continue to be, involuntary, this scheme would follow the precedent of that most unamerican piece of current legislation, Obamacare. If you didn't like that, you certainly won't like this. This is no different from the collectivisation and murder of the Kulaks in 1930's Russia.

I am disapointed that such a level-headed, family-minded blog shoud suddenly swerve off the rails. What are they smoking?

I suggest that all my loyal readers voice their protest at the comments section of Iceberg-Carwash's post. Click HERE to easily access the comments. Tell them what you think, maybe we can right the wagon!

Potato. Potahto

This issue has come up before, essentially at the creation of this blog, and the subsequent spelling of Greunkern, which may or may not have been a mistake.

I made reference in my past post to Jack, the fish currently living with us. ( And still living, thank goodness). i referred to him as "Beta" I was then corrected by one of our eagle eyed readers that is is spelled "Betta". We then conducted an informal test, ( putting in betta in a search engine) and most of the returns DID spell the name with two "T"s. However, not all of them did, as there was one site that referred to the fish as "beta". I felt vindicated.

However, in continuing my research for this post, I went back to that same site, and scrolled down. I saw a heading that said "Spelling" so I thought, great, vindication. Alas, here is the paragraph


1. Spelling
The names Beta Fish, Fighting Beta Fish, and Siamese Beta Fish are often seen. But Beta is a misspelling of Betta, which is a word that comes from the scientific name Betta splendens.

So I sit here, corrected. henceforth, the fish I mention that we are betta-sitting for shall be called by its correct name.


Jack

Adventurous August

I am going to attempt to have more posts for my dear readers to lurk about, maybe read, and not comment upon ( Oh, stop your whining already!).

Since this is a bit of a large undertaking, I have dubbed the month adventurous August ( as you can see from the heading). I will not be writing on weekends or the 9th, or if I actually get away for a few days, so expect no more than fifteen posts this month, which for us here at the good Doctor, is quite a bit.

The beauty is this counts as one, even though it really doesn't say anything.

Requiem for a Fish

A month in theory, days in fact, forever in our hearts.

Alas, the (sort of ) expected happened, Fluffy, after physically gracing our lives for all of five days, has gone on to her great reward in the giant fish tank in the sky.

Although her life expectancy prior to her joining our home was not really anticipated to be much longer ( feeder fish, by definition, are only supposed to last until they become lunch), we were still saddened to return to the house Friday afternoon to find Fluffy floating lifeless in her bowl. She had appeared fine Friday morning, swimming happily to and fro. However, I had noticed signs of illness from the day we purchased her, and felt a trip to the vet or a host of chemicals to save her would be a bit much for a sixty four cent fish. I had hoped that food, clean water and love would prolong her life, but it was not to be.

So with a heavy heart, I performed the usual get-rid -of -dead goldfish ritual, which involves solemn carrying of the bowl, taps, and flushing.

Although it is no consolation for our bereft hearts, we happen to be Beta-sitting Jack for the summer, Stretchs' beta, who we are caring for while he is away. We hope he has a better outcome than dear Fluffy.

Goodbye Fluffy, we shall always remember you.

Mincha and Lentil Soup

Living in an orthodox jewish community, a usually difficult problem, that of finding a venue for the mid-day prayer (Mincha) in the midst of the workday, is rather easily solved.

Many merchants in our local community, especially those with large staffs and even larger stores, can easily provide both the venue and the manpower (10 adult men for a quorum) and in fact, do so.

At the supermarket, the prayer takes place in a section of the warehouse where the worshippers pray facing things like cartons of "1 Gross Canned Peas" or "24 count Kellogs Rice Krispies" or "Calf's Foot Jelly - 48 jars", certainly not distracting enough to sway them from their devotions.

Not so the bookstore. There, the prayer service is conducted among the latest kosher cookbooks titled in order to induce salivation (not to be confused with salvation) in addition to a physical need to purchase the volume. How then to give your undivided attention to the lord above with "Secrets of 125 Luscious Breads" or "The Best of Near Eastern Cooking" or "99 Best Cherry Dishes" decorated with pictures of the most perfect, mouth watering dishes staring you in the face whenever you open your eyes.

Just recently, I was amused by a fellow worshipper who, while mouthing out loud the holiest part of the litany, was holding a cookbook (instead of a prayer book) opened to a page entitled "Winter Lentil Soup."

I think we need to move the service to the aisle with titles like, "The Power of Thoughtful Prayer" or "Know Before Whom You Stand." It might not improve the worship, but at least they won't be reading the books.

Fluffy

A month in theory, days in fact.

This is the story of Fluffy.

Boo went to camp for the month of July. As soon as she left, I started to write her e-mails ( which the camp prints and gives to the girls at lunch, much easier than actual letters) recounting the exploits of Fluffy, our pet. However, I never actually told her what Fluffy was.

This went on for the first two weeks she was gone, and on visiting day, she asked me about Fluffy, but i was evasive.

Now Fluffy was still in the imagination stage at this point, so I figured I would just have to kill off Fluffy before she got home. As an avid reader of books that routinely kill off pets and people "Daddy, you should read this book, its very sad" I figured it would not be such a big deal.

However, as I am a softy, and only read books with happy endings, and don't like to kill off animals unless they tear up my back yard, I didn't like this solution, so I was in a bit of a dilemma.

Ace saved the day when she suggested that we get a goldfish. I thought this was brilliant, as Feeders are usually pretty cheap, easy to care for, don't last all that long, and are the last thing that would be named Fluffy. So off the the pet store she went to get Fluffy.

Boo comes home and forgets to ask for Fluffy. I met her and Lovey in the City and asked her if she met Fluffy, to which Lovey replied that she locked (hid?) Fluffy in the bathroom until I came home.

So now we were home and time for the big reveal, I went in to the bathroom and came out proudly bearing Fluffy. The reaction?


" Fluffy is a FISH?!?!?!"

The Further Adventures of Soupeater and the Good Companion

We had so much fun at West Point we decided on another adventure, this time into the maw of the big city. A frightening place to a country boy like me but the good companion finds the activity and "action", energizing.

We decided on a cruise around Manhattan, probably one of the most exciting activities for out-of-towners that can be found in the big apple. The oracles of weather had predicted a beautiful day but that changed and the grey skies and small raindrops that we encountered as we were leaving the house did not bode well for the trip. We had some errands to do before sailing time and the sky became progressively lighter as we approached the berth that we decided to chance it. Off to the west we could see breaks in the clouds and only hoped that not too long into the trip the sun would come out. We sailed out from pier 83 at 42nd street and sailed southward. The George Washington Bridge was only a fuzzy image to the north and we concentrated on Manhattan's skyline with occasional glances at the Jersey shore. We were approaching Lady Liberty and it was still cloudy but that didn't prevent me from taking many photographs of this almost 150 year old statue. Ellis Island also came into view, but still, no sunshine.

As the ship turned about and we faced the massive buildings and the lacework of bridges of lower Manhattan, the sky began to lighten in earnest and somewhat past the Brooklyn Bridge the sun came out. Much before we came back out into the Hudson, the weather was fine, excellent for taking pictures.

Although the bridges of Madison County (IA) are the things of legend, the bridges of Manhattan are the things of reality, and what massive reality! Here is a sampling of them for your enjoyment.


Part of our plan was to attend the Shakespeare in the Park festival which is a feature of New York. For about 2 months every summer, the Delacorte Theater, amphitheater like, in the heart of Central Park, puts on two plays, one of which, at least, is by Shakespeare. This year, they produced 2 Shakespeare plays, "Measure for Measure" and "All's Well that Ends Well." Admission is free of charge but definitely not free of hassle as can be perceived by the convoluted procedure for acquiring tickets. Performance is at 8 o'clock. At 1:00 PM, tickets are distributed to those awaiting them, first come, first served. There are three lines, regular, handicapped and senior. Since the tickets are given out at 1:00, obviously a line (or 3 in this case)forms somewhat before this time.

Theoretically, any time after 1:00 is a time to obtain tickets. We had driven from the pier and miraculously found a legal parking spot on Central Park West about 5 cars from 81st Street. The entrace to the park which leads to the theater is at 81st Street. Not having a clue where the theater was we asked one and then another of the many people standing or sitting in the area. One girl pulled out a map and let me look at it but it wasn't detailed enough to give us the information we needed. Another couple tried to bring it up on a phone GPS but couldn't get a reception. It seems that no one roaming the area at that time of day is a native. We finally did find someone who gave us rudimentary directions and we found the theater.

We got there at 4:15PM. There were no tickets left; all sold out. As we were sitting on a bench contemplating our next move, a fellow bench sitter told us that at 6:00 pm there would be another distribution of tickets. We didn't want to wait until then so we decided to go to Brooklyn.

Now, if you have a perfect parking spot, free of charge in Manhattan, you don't easily want to move your car and especially since driving to Brooklyn during rush hour can be nerve wracking and time consuming and expensive into the bargain Luckily we spotted a subway station on the corner and immediately decided to take the train to Brooklyn. I hadn't been in the subway for at least five years and it was a pleasant experience. The F train has some new cars with an electronic sign board showing all the future stations along with connection information and the number of stops until the train gets there, updating at each stop. Fun to watch if you don't have a book and you have scoped out all the wierd passengers in your car.

It was a little after 7:00 pm when we got back to 81st street and seemed rather dark coming out of the subway, not at all what we expected at the beginning of July. It didn't take long for us to realize that we were under an approaching thunder cloud. As we entered the park we felt some drops, nothing serious, but then the heavens opened up. People were clustered around trees shielding themselves as best they could with donut boxes, bits of clothing that they could remove and still remain within the ordinances on public exposure, ponchos, etc. The good companion already had the umbrella out and it helped a great deal.

A line had again formed and we were told that there would be a further distribution of tickets by 7:30. It was already very close to curtain time and we were assured that there would be enough tickets to satisfy those waiting for them. The sun had come out again, the skies cleared and we waited and waited. Some said that the staff were drying the seats and some speculated that the program would be canceled. Time dragged on. Clearly the performance would not begin on time and by 8:15 we realized that even if the 2 hour and 45 minute play were to start by 8:30 we probably wouldn't get home till about 1:00 AM, so after all that we decided to leave. The staff was sorry to see us go.

All's well, but it didn't end well.

Silliness Cookware

I relative of my wife's has a profile picture on facebook that showed a picture of the bottom of a frying pan that said " I kiss better than I cook".

Now this seems silly for a variety of reasons, which I am going to share with you, the lucky reader!

I realize that it is really a novelty piece, but it is still rather dumb. The people who hang all their pots are usually Town and Country types, with enormous kitchens ( that they don't cook in) who have all matching copper pots. They would not be white trailer park trash to hang something so tacky in their kitchen. So more likely it would be hung by someone from a push pin, next to the empty beer can from the final season at Shea stadium, and between the Keep on Truckin' hat and the Kiss the Cook apron. ( At least that's a theme!)

However, the other, practical reason for the pan is reflected in the comment I posted on the page, which was

"If its on the bottom of a frying pan, who would see it but the guy about to get bashed by it???? And at THAT point, neither kissing nor cooking is usually on the woman's mind."

Now if it said I cook and/or kiss better than I run, the guy would have a chance to get out of the way.

....By The Dawn's Early Light

I went to West Point for the fourth of July celebration, a mixture of musical performance, army academy ceremonies and of course, fireworks. We have attended several of these celebrations in the past so we thought we knew what we were in for.

We arrived an hour early for the 8PM performance, but the extra time was quickly eaten up by waiting in long traffic lines and then trying to find a parking spot. On a conventional Sunday afternoon, trophy point looks like this. The flat lower portion directly in front of the bandshell contains rows of long benches which are usually never full. The meadow usually contains a sprinkling of folding chairs and blankets with dogs running on long leashes. The hills leading up to the monument at the summit is usually dotted with people, coolers at their sides filled with drinks and sandwiches and other easily consumed comestibles. It is reminiscent of a lazy late afternoon, people doing their thing while listening to the band play marches and other lively tunes, including a vocal soloist and, more often than not, an instrument soloist as well.

July 4th is a bit different. It is more crowded, the hillsides are packed with people, the program is different. They usually begin by introducing the cadets who march into trophy point. Each class is introduced and that takes a while. Then cadets, representing the 50 states, are introduced, each one carrying his state flag and upon introduction, a cannon is fired.

Then the program begins. It is usually a medley of american marches and other favorites, culminating in Tchaikovsky's 1812 overture with cannon and fireworks as the piece reaches its peroration.

Since it was so crowded we found seats just across the roadway from the monument. The road was closed to vehicular traffic so there was no one close in front of us as we contemplated the monument, the crowd, and a beautiful evening sky. We couldn't see the stage nor could we hear too much. We did hear the Star Spangled Banner which, I was glad to know, was still on the program, especially in light of what occured afterwards.

I had trudged up from a parking space about a mile away from the action and arrived on the scene just after the cadets had made their procession. The places that my good companion had reserved for us were indeed front row and center but to the road, not the stage. Our chairs were on grass and we were surrounded on the sides and back by other people, likewise having misjudged the crowd although one of our neighbors assured us that they had been there since four in the afternoon. The musical program began, but for a variety of reasons we didn't really get much out of it.

First of all, we couldn't hear that well since the sound needed to travel over the hill and through a mass of people. Secondly, it occurred to us that most of the audience was completely uninterested in the program having come solely for the fireworks and were engaged in socializing on a grand scale. Right behind us, sat a group of three couples and their families, the leader of which was a loudmouth know-it-all with a particularly penetrating voice. He didn't shut up for a moment making it difficult to appreciate even the music we did hear. At the end of one piece for solo baritone which we could hardly make out, he remarked without drawing breath from his unending soliloquy, "Hey that guy has a pretty good voice." This sent us and some of the neighbors around us into paroxysms of laughter. The guy behind us continued on as before, oblivious to all but himself. The good companion finally asked him to speak a bit lower which he did (or maybe just ran out of steam [hot air]).

The sky slowly darkened and the young people, flitting from place to place formed a moving tableau of glowing reds, greens and blues worn in their hair, on their wrists and on their ankles or just waving the flexible glow wands in the air. It was a lovely sight. Meanwhile, an entertainment group took over the stage. The MC spoke in a language that I didn't understand but was assured it was English. The crowd went wild with his jokes and sang along with the songs the group performed cheering wildly most of the time. It was a festive evening, one of the loveliest of this season. As it became dark, the excitement was palpable as the hour approached for the start of the main event. It did not disappoint. For 15 minutes the sky was lit and the atmosphere percussed with the reds,greens browns, golds, whites and yellows of the explosive charges. Some particularly beautiful displays were of a kind I had seen before. The reds and greens did not immediately fade as they usually do in conventional fireworks. They remained lambent with solid colors almost like holiday tinsel, suspended in the air. They eventually dropped and were extinguished as they fell to the ground.

The walk back to the car among thousands of others, orderly and mannerly reminds me that there can be calm in crowds. Overall, it was an enjoyable evening but I doubt we will do it again in the near future.

As a clever saying attributed to Yogi Berra says, "That place is so crowded, no one goes there anymore."

How to Beat Hunger for Free

Ace is worried.

I can't really blame her. With all the others gone for the month, we are officially in slow down mode. This means that once the weekend leftovers are gone, food is whatever can be defrosted from the freezer. Since neither Lovey or me are that particular, supper could very well be a frozen pretzel. Period.

We have been informed that she intends to be out all the time. (I think we have gotten to the lofty position of being able to embarrass her even when it is just her and us in the house alone. I defy all you other parents of teenagers to attain that level! We are the ALPHA GEEKS!!!!!) And once she is with other people, I guess she can hang around until someone offers to feed her. We just ask her to bring us something back from them.

So if my sisters are reading this, I prefer my steak medium well.