Special Class

Aren't we special. The human race, we are special because we are so smart. We are not ruled by instinct, we think our way through things.
I sit each morning and watch a flock of Cedar Waxwings descend on the tall cedar tree by the window. They bustle about, eating cedar berries from the tree. They never go out to the end of the branches, The prevalence of hawks in this neighborhood explains that. They stay a few minutes and then they all fly away, leaving many berries still on the tree. This continues until the Spring. I am sure that they do this by instinct. They are not politicians but they are still birdbrains. They don't know that they are saving themselves from future starvation. Instinct saves them from themselves.
We are using petroleum as if there were no end to the supply. Everyone complains about the cost of a gallon of gasoline. Imagine how much the LAST gallon of gasoline is going to cost. Gasoline is a limited resource, it doesn't fall from the sky. Water does. People buy water in stores, never complaining that a gallon of water cost more than a gallon of gasoline. The reasoning for bottled water is that the municipal supplies are tainted. We need water to live, every day. Didn't anyone ever stop to think " If I foul the water, I won't have any for tomorrow.".
We need oxygen, water, food, shelter, and love. Can't you feel the love around us, listen to the lyrics of today's popular songs. With the mortgage crisis, many people are going to end up without shelter. Most of our food supply is based on corn. Some genius has come up with a way to substitute corn for petroleum. We will be able to drive to where the grocery store used to be.
Remember Perrier? The French were sitting around one day, they do that a lot, and decided that there was no more challenge in outsmarting the English. "How can we trick the Americans into doing something even more foolish than holding the fork in the right hand? I know, we will get them to buy water. I know it sounds preposterous, but we'll put bubbles in it. They are suckers for bubbles, especially if the bubbles are French.".
Americans finally wised up and started selling their own water. What are the French doing now? They are sitting around, they do that a lot and there are a lot of them doing it because the live so long, and working on a new idea.
"How can we make the Americans look even more foolish than people who buy what falls from the sky? I know, we will sell them oxygen. Pure oxygen from the Pyrenees. The problem is that we can't put bubbles in it. I know, we will put an aroma in it and say that it is theraputic. When they ask what the aroma is, we will tell them it is from an herb that can only be grown in France, the Jenecequois plant. Once they are hooked, we can tell them that the Jenecequois goes with a happy meal. You need petiteetudie for a whopper and eaudemoron for pizza.".
We need petroleum from corn to bring our food supply from the mid-west to the seaboards, Empty Trucks. We go way out on a limb to finance the policies of hawks. We are indeed members of a Special Class. Tomorrow we are going to learn to snap the velcro straps on our sneakers so we don't fall down on our way to the zoo.
I am going to have to find an oxygen that goes well with bile, something with a hint of flint, tobacco, and oak mmmm.

Special Day

Today is the kind of day that makes New England special. The snow is gently falling, the sky is grey, and there is peace all around. It is Winter. The time to rest and reflect on the past year and the coming year. Only farmers know the joy of not being able to do anything outside. It is a time to stop scurrying around, performing the mundane tasks that we tell ourselves are necessary, sticking our noses in other people's business, and take time to be human. Sometimes we create a sense of self-importance so great that we forget how important we are to ourselves. Want to know how important we are to the world? Put your hand in a bucket of water, then take your hand out. Do you see the hole that was left when you took your hand out? That is the hole we will leave when we are gone. There is meaning to life but only to the person living it.
Lately I have been thinking of the meaning of my life a great deal. I haven't found much. This morning I was walking in the snow. I tried to grasp what was around me by concentrating on each sense individually. The grey day, the whisper of the snow in the trees, the cushion of the snow on my steps, the taste of the flakes on the tongue, and hardest to explain, the smell of crispness in the air. When was the last time I thought of crispness as a smell? A thought, more of a concern, came and suddenly there was purpose. I have an idea but I am sure it will come to naught, as all the other plans I make. John Lennon "Life is what happens while you're making other plans." The ancient Greeks "What makes the gods laugh? A man with a plan.". Life seems to move so slowly, and then WHOOSH, it has streamed by. I will keep my plan to myself and hope that it comes to fruition.
The smell of crispness will stay with me. It is like life in New England. Crisp, brisk, and always displaying a new nuance to behold, if you take the time to notice it. It is not showy or flashy. It does not grab you by the senses and say "Hey, look at me!". It whispers "I am here, if you take the time to notice me.". Time is all we have, and we owe it to ourselves to notice it instead of letting it flit by. New Englanders notice. One farmer, not a very successful one, took the time to notice walls, birches, snow, and paths. He took the time to be human. Grow peas in Concord, wander Cape Cod, take the time to think, listen to ice crack. We are only visiting this world, don't spoil the trip by following an agenda. Enjoy the view and the smell of crispness.

Victorious Stew

The stew survived to bite another day. It was heating on the stove when I spied the can of tomatoes. Tomato sauce came out quite good because I finally put salt in it, along with eight cloves of garlic and about a tablespoon of dried basil. All of the desiccated Parmesan rinds went in also. Add some linguine and bliss was achieved. The stew is gloating in the refrigerator. So, today's menu will definitely be stew or pork chops and homefried potatoes. I found out why the fried chicken can taste fishy. It is the oil. Vegetable oil starts breaking down at a fairly low temperature. Peanut oil can get a lot hotter before the smoke alarm goes off. Peanut or fish, take your pick. I don't want to know how much cholesterol is in peanut oil. Speaking of cholesterol, bacon, I miss you very much.

Chicken

Things are looking up. Two more days of stew and I will be done with it. I made pumpernickel bread and lathered with butter it makes the stew palatable. Stew does not freeze well. I cannot give it to the neighbors because if I walk out of the house carrying a pot, I hear dead bolts crashing all over the neighborhood. They are all French and are convinced that a barbarian from Sweden cannot possibly make anything edible and there is always the possibility that there is Lutefisk in the pot. The barbarian also has Irish roots and we all know about the Irish cookbook. There is only one recipe in it: Bring three gallons of water to a boil.
Throw all of the food in the water.
Drink beer until the water is all gone.
I have a chicken defrosting in the refrigerator. Soon there will be roast chicken, mashed potatoes, carrots, green beans, stuffing. and biscuits. And then, glory of all glories, there will be chicken stock to make. Escoffier was right, without stock there is no cooking. When I die, I would like the stockpots and the Kitchenaid buried with me. I always thought I would be buried with the wool hat and sweater but I buried Rosie in them. Sad memory that still hurts.

Blessed stew

Today doesn't look promising. Like yesterday, it will be filled with beef stew. I don't know why I make such a quantity of stew but when you have two gallons of homemade beef stock, it seems like the thing to do. Ah, the hubris of someone complaining of too much food when there are millions that don't have enough.
Joke for the day: this is a Walter Cronkite joke. It turns out that he has a very dry sense of humor

Two Irishmen walk out of a bar.
It's possible.

Hallmark

Today was a hallmark day. Two things that I had been assured would happen actually happened. Despite my mistrust of computers and customer services, they actually happened. Things are actually looking up, despite my belief in Becker's elastic. I went for a walk and the weather seems to be turning. Is this the January thaw?
I am eating beef stew. Yesterday I made enough beef stew to feed the multitude. It is the curse of having big pots.
I may have made a mistake. I offered advice to my oldest daughter. As if that marvel needs advice from a jerk like me. I hope she is not offended. It is O.K. if she is embarrassed, she has been embarrassed by her father many times before. The advice may be trash and elitist but the love that initiated it is there.

Brilliant move

Another brilliant move by the master of disaster. I went for a walk today. It was quite cold. Not the bone aching cold of some days but not very comfortable. I have the heat on seventy degrees and I am sipping green tea. Today might be a good day for baking.

Weather

It has been recently brought to my attention that some people doubt my weather forecasting ability. O.K., I was off by one day and forgot to mention that the figure included the wind chill factor.
I am a member of Forecast On Satellite, a service just for old folks. It enables old folks to wow the pants off of young whippersnappers by correctly predicting the weather. Such explanations as: my bones tell me, I can tell by the clouds, the stripe on wooly bear caterpillars, the thickness of squirrel's tails, are substituted. Remember, when it comes to the weather, almost all old folks are F.O.S..
Good news, I finally made something that tastes very good: glass pie plate, 1/2 chopped onion, chopped garlic clove, salt and pepper, 1 cup of chicken broth, four chicken thighs nestled into the mix in the plate, 350 degrees for one hour. Great over rice. Today I am going to try it with thyme and tarragon also, although dried tarragon can be really crappy on occasion. I have tried to find French tarragon plants on the Internet, it cannot be grown from seed, but there is none available. I refuse to buy fresh tarragon at the market as I don't believe a person should have to sell their car to buy fresh herbs.

Finally something that works

This world is full of advice that doesn't work. Recipes, car repair instructions, computer adjustments to make, and super glues. Finally I found something that does: King Arthur TRADITIONAL Whole wheat Flour. Just follow the instructions on the back of the bag and you get two of the most marvelous loaves of bread I have ever tasted. It only takes 2 1/2 hours, most of which is rising time, and the bread is marvelous! Just be sure to use rapid rising yeast and you may have to use a little extra milk to make a slightly soupy dough that gets silky when extra flour is kneaded in. So much for the triumphs of a sheltered life. Next up: croissants.

Nesting

The forecast for this area is: cold, followed by very cold, followed by colder than the well diggers bottom. It is supposed to get warmer the first part of next week. I have been in for three days and look forward to three more. Wednesday I made pork stew. It was supposed to be beef stew but when I went to brown the meat I discovered that it was pork. Great beef stock, great vegetables, and pork make a lousy stew. I have been eating it for two days and foresee two more. This must be the recipe for Ratso Rizzo's stew. Today will be homemade bread. I will have to use bread flour as I don't have enough all-purpose flour for the recipe and I am not going out to get more. Baking, cocoa, and reading. Life doesn't get much better than this. Sunday's forecast is for -10. It is 72 inside here. I am nesting.

Snow

I awoke this morning to snow. It is still dark out but it looks like about four inches. I like snow very much. Today I will go for a walk. I have not been outside for several days. Yesterday was baked beans, sausages, and corn bread. Today will be a walk, reading, and maybe pizza. Last night was again filled with dreams. I have been turning the heat off before I go to bed and sleeping under a soft, warm blanket and a very thick quilt. I wonder if that could be stimulating all of the dreams. If so I will continue this, it is enjoyable.

Who's that knocking?

Last night was a strange night. I woke up around 2 A.M. because I heard a knock at the door. That is strange because I get one visitor, once a month, the landlord. There was no one at the door so I went back to bed. Sleep did not come for several hours but something else did, a torrent of memories washed over my mind. Memories from long ago, I mean REALLY long ago. I can date some of them by their surroundings. Age three, age five, the third grade, and the list goes on and on. I don't know what has happened but suddenly I like myself. I have not liked myself for about fifteen years. In the past I have analyzed this feeling and come to the conclusion that it is because I have not conducted my life in accordance with my Father's high standards. Not his expectations but his high personal moral code. Suddenly the slate is clean. I got up this morning and made coffee the old fashioned way without even thinking about it. Suddenly the future looks rosy. Popeye was right "I yam what I yam and that all what I am.". I suddenly have an overpowering urge to restudy English grammar. 2008 looks promising, maybe I will finally solve the preposition problem. I was absent from the second grade the day they discussed prepositions and have always felt shaky when the term was brought up. Who knows, if I solve that then maybe it will be factoring in mathematics. I might even get to know what a sine is.

A little boy is better

A little boy is better. The heart rejoices. The world seems to be a gentler place than it was a few days ago. This event put things in perspective. In our world of mundane goals and trivial accomplishments, the restoration of a young, innocent life restores the order of our values. No dvd player, no new car, no pickled humming birds tongues, no the newest, latest. hottest anything but a little boy is better.The world is somehow less frightening and cleaner. It feels good to feel this way. Old people suffer and pass on, it is the way of life. It should never happen to a child. A child has a right to love and warmth and sustenance. It is more heroic to care for a child than win honors and glory in war or business. The world still needs a bit of tweaking. The leaders of the world need to pay more attention to Maslow than Machiavelli.

Calvin

No news today about Calvin. I hope this means that he is better. It must be terrifying for a small child to be in a place that is not home. I hope that the people treating him are also parents. How Johanna can deal with a crisis of this magnitude I don't know. I would just go to pieces. My heart goes out to her.

Bad news

There is bad news today. A little boy is seriously sick. When an adult is sick, it seems to be just part of living, one of the rites of passage but when a child is sick it just doesn't seem fair. They are so young and trusting. Their lives should be joy and play and huge amounts of love. When will the world realize that children are all that really matters? They bring so much love with them when they come into the world, the world owes them. When a child is sick, it puts all of life's other miniscule troubles into a proper perspective except for the pain of the parent who wishes it could be them instead of the child.

Re-chili

I had two bowls of the chili last night. It has mellowed some but has grown teeth. I am gong back to New England chili: onions, green pepper, garlic, beef, and one large can of B+M baked beans. Top with chopped onions and grated cheddar cheese.
While I was taking another try at the Illiad, I did some thinking. Many things have happened to me in my life, some good, some bad. All of the bad things were a direct result of my actions or behavior. All of the good things were the result of someone else's. Being blessed with three wonderful daughters is an example. I reasoned that I should stop trying but I can't seem to keep my greasy little fingers out of things. Once more up to the plate!

Chili

Yesterday's beef became chili. I may have put too much chili powder in it. I will ask someone as soon as my mouth heals.
This morning I learned that it is not good to keep saying how easy life is. Did anyone ever see the episode of Becker, my favorite character it is like looking into a mirror, where good things keep happening to him and he gets very nervous and speaks about the elastic? The elastic snapped back this morning. I am sure that the problem is just a computer problem and will be resolved Monday. Today is a good day to bake.

Too far

I walked too far. The day is nice and I overextended. I was feeling a bit moody and then I saw two mallard ducks on one of the rivers, a mated pair. Can this mean that an early Spring is coming? My spirits soared.
While I was out I purchased crushed red pepper and basil. I go through basil awfully fast. I stopped at the little store down the street and they were clearing out their wine inventory. Three big bottles for $9.00. I have already started cooking and sipping. That is the great part about cooking with wine, 1/2 cup goes into the recipe and the rest goes into the cook. The French really know how to live. Beef burgundy is definitely in the future, I already have more than enough beef, all I need is salt pork. This is going to be a good day tater.

Walking

Today will be a walking day. The weather is nice and maybe the wind will blow some dust off of me. I will not walk too far however. I have been up since 02:00. That is because at 6:30 P.M. I laid down to read. Two pages at the most. I am sure that today will also be a cooking day as I am also pretty sure that the Sun will rise. I must return some of the books I have finished to the library. The people at the library seem to enjoy my company, much as they enjoy catching their finger in a car door. Maybe I will try Aristotle again. The last two times I tried, my eyes rolled back in my head as the pages seemed to blur. My thinking processes are too rusty to try and comprehend his reasoning. That boy's brain was so big he must have found it impossible to buy a hat. Once more up to the plate.
One question: if Mrs. Clinton gets the nomination can Mr. Clinton run for Vice President? If something tragic befalls President Mrs. Clinton, could Vice President Mr. Clinton become President again? Remember him? He is the one that refused to send troops to Somalia. Republicans have said that that is the reason Osama bin Laden attacked New York. Sure it is and as far as Iraq goes: MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!
So much bile, so little time.

Simple pleasures

I got up this morning at 05:30 A.M.. By 10:00 A.M. I was bored. I decided to walk to the grocery store. I had a list. I wanted wheat germ, coffee, broccoli, and tofu. I made the mistake of reading the supermarket flyer. Chickens $0.69 per pound. I went to the meat aisle and there they were: Beef bones! Not the smarmy marrow bones but real beef bones with beef attached. One thought raced into my mind: Beef Stock and therefore: French Onion Soup! I ended up with carrots, celery, chicken, 2 lbs of butter, beef bones, milk, a batarde, and coffee. No gruyere because they only had domestic.
I got home and went to put the groceries away and then I realized: I have become a food junkie! There was no room in the refrigerator or the freezer. I grind my own hamburger, I make stocks continually, I make my own bread, I buy nothing pre-prepared. I have become a food snob!
Recently one of my neighbors invited me for dinner. She is recently divorced, alarm bells went off all through my head, and is pleasant company. I asked her if she was French and she said she wasn't. I declined the invitation. I can make a better meal at home and I have learned that only French women can do justice to a meal.
The love of my life was French. She came into the kitchen one day and there I was making six quarts of beef stock. She immediately went to the market and got six pounds of assorted onions. I think the only reason she tolerated my idiosyncracies was the beef stock. That is when I learned that if you are walking through the kitchen when a French woman is making soup: KEEP MOVING!
The simple pleasure. I wasn't feeling particularly happy when I went to the market. I saw those beef bones and my whole spirit brightened. Simple pleasures for simple people.
An hour ago the food junkie part kicked in. I looked at the stove and realized that I had beef stock, turkey stock, chili, and pasta cooking. I did this while I was reading a recipe for tomato pie. Will this never end?

Frog Loan

A frog goes into a bank carrying a large paper sack. He asks a teller how to get a loan.
The teller says " You need to talk to our new Loan Officer, Patricia Black, who is sitting at that desk.
The frog goes to Patricia Black's desk and explains that he needs a loan.
Patricia Black says "Certainly Mr. Frog but first I will need some information.".
PB "What is your street address?".
Frog " I don't have a street address, I live in a pond.".
PB " Where do you work".
Frog " I don't work, that's why I need a loan.".
PB " What is your telephone number?".
Frog " I don't have a telephone.".
PB " I don't think we can give you a loan Mr. Frog, you don't work and you have no collateral.".
Frog " I have collateral, this.". He reaches into the bag and pulls out a huge Hummel. Patricia Black has no idea what it is.
PB "Excuse me Mr. Frog, I have to consult with Mr. Jones the bank manager.". She takes the Hummel with her.
Patricia Black goes into Mr. Jones's office and explains the situation to Mr. Jones.
PB " I know that I am new but I don't think I can make the loan because I have no idea what this thing is.".
Mr. Jones " It's a knick-knack Patty Black, give the frog a loan.".

Bracing

It is cold today. It is cold outside but warm inside. Do the math. I have no reason to go outside today. Friday is supposed to be warmer and I have planned my beginning of the month errands for Friday. That is one of the glories of New England. Today will be cocoa, cookies, pie, and the Illiad.
Yesterday was spaghetti with sausages and turkey sandwiches. My brother is right,"Vegetables aren't food, food eats vegetables. Never eat anything that didn't have parents.".
I made the spaghetti sauce on Tuesday. I couldn't hold out any longer. I have enough canned plum tomatoes and pasta to last a long time. Onions, garlic, green pepper, roasted red pepper, artichokes, olives, and sausage frying in olive oil. Add some tomatoes and the fragrance permeates my whole world. Life is good when it is topped with freshly grated Parmesan cheese.

One more time

Another year begins. Yesterday was a perfect New England day. It started with sunshine, became gray, and then the snow came down as if a goose down jacket had been ripped open above. It was good New England snow, not that smarmy, touristy stuff. I love Massachusetts.
I worked in upstate Michigan in the winter, it was too cold and the wind seemed to never stop blowing. Detroit is the meanest city I have ever been in. Ann Arbor was nice. Bay city is too cold.
I worked in southern Texas in the summer. Too hot but the Mexican food was wonderful. Cheese, beef, and onion enchiladas still dwell in my mind. The Gulf coast of Texas is a miasma of memories. The scenery and the people were nice but how the mosquitos stand the stench of refineries and testosterone I don't know.
I worked in Louisiana in the summer. The people are wonderful, the shrimp is delicious, the coffee is deadly. It was there I had one of the most memorable moments of my life.
I hired Stanley Toups there. Stanley was a nice, quiet, hard working boy but Stanley could not walk down the sidewalk without tripping over the cracks. He was the most ungainly, fumbly, person I have ever met. I used to ride him home every night because he could get lost on the street he was born on. One evening he wantef me to come into the house as he said his Mother wanted to meet me.
I met a wonderful lady. She was effusive in thanking me for giving Stanley a job and invited me to a family party that Saturday evening.
There are times in life when you say to yourself " I have to remember this day.". It turned out that Saturday evening was when the family shrimp boat came back in. I met Stanley's Father, brothers, and sister. His Father was effusive in thanking me for giving Stanley a job. I realized that working on a shrimp boat can be dangerous, winches roaring, nets snaking about, and the boat tossing and diving. Stanley would not have survived five minutes.
The Moon had risen, the bayou was calm, the shrimp were boiling in a large cauldron set over a fire built in a sandbox on the deck, the beer was in a mound of ice, and the cousins, aunts, and uncles were singing to a small accordian. One of those "I have to remember." moments.
It was then that I met Stanley's sister. Skin like cream, hair like ebony, and eyes like emeralds. We danced. It was then that I met Stanley's oldest brother. A chest as big as a semi trailer, hands like catchers mitts, and a silly, polka-dot hat. He informed me "You can dance with her all night long but she is coming home with us and I don't ever want to see you near her again Yankee.". I accepted the advice of this resident Sequoia.
I worked in Mississippi and Alabama in the Summer. It is nice to be able to take a steam bath while walking.
I worked in Georgia when the peaches were ripe. To bite into a ripe peach and have the juice run down your arm is unforgettable.
I worked in Orangeburg, South Carolina during a civil rights demonstration and, being a boy from Newton, Massachusetts, I joined in. The next day two of the local men explained to me that that was a bad idea. They explained it in a rather physical manner.
I worked in New York City on 125th street for six months. The subway was confusing but I still cherish the sub sandwiches with sausage, peppers, and onions. I could see the arch in Washington park from my room. Grenwhich Village in the early sixties was magnificent.
I always come back to Massachusetts. I have found no finer place, although Cape May, New Jersey is a close second. Bermuda is pretty close also, except for the Portuguese Man O'War. OOOOWWWWW, always wear sandals on the beach. They have Double Diamond.
Boston, Athens of America, home of the bean and the cod, and Nils too.