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.