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 My blog was filled up. I'm too lazy to clean it out. So I started a new one. |
| We're seven weeks into autumn, only six left to go. it's finally cold at night, typical high school football weather, and sometimes cold during the day. My elephant ears froze and fell limp to the ground like wilted celery, all mushy. That means the bulbs died, too. If only we had covered them up or cut them off and dug up the bulbs. The basil has shriveled away, and the tarragon's on its way out. But the sage is still thriving and fragrant, and will be here come spring with or without any protection from me. The chives are lush green and ready for harvest. They will die back for the winter and return come spring without my help. It's a gloomy day, but no rain. The local reservoir is starting to fill up again. The local usage restrictions might be lifted later this week. The small birds have flocked to my loaded feeder hanging off the deck. The air is very still. Mother Nature is very quiet today. It gives me the feeling that the weather is about to change. Either a cold rain or snow will come. It's rare to get snow this time of year, but it has happened. Thanksgiving is only a week away. So much to do. Dinners and concerts, birthday parties, baby showers, housekeeping, shopping, etc. I have to catch up on so many things. This time of year races by. I usually feel ready to face Christmas in mid-January. The kids have told me what they want for Christmas. Now they want to bake cookies with sprinkles. They love sprinkles. We'll see. I carried the trash out to the street this morning and stopped to survey the yard. I'm going to have to hire someone to rake this year. I just can't handle it all. The kids in my family aren't big enough yet to handle a rake satisfactorily. Yet despite the work, autumn is my favorite time of year. The beauty of the changing leaves is just a disguise for the fact that the leaves are dying. It's kind of like middle age. Not as young and healthy as before, but still capable of great beauty and awesomeness. |
| It's happening! My dad is in the other room playing Christmas music! I have to admit I'm singing along with the familiar, comfortable songs. They're nostalgic. They raise the hopes for a better world, for a peaceful family, for childhood wonder in the adult years. And the smoothness of Doris Day's or Johnny Mathis' voice doesn't hurt. It's soothing. Overall, the music is perky. They may have a few contemplative Christmas songs, but for the most part, they're happy and upbeat. We can use that once a year. Admittedly, I didn't want to start my Christmas season so early. The weather here has been very cold. Some plants died in the freeze, but my sage and chives are still thriving. I wish we had cut the elephant ears back in time, and put the bulbs away. They can be replanted next year, but one freeze kills the bulb as well as the plant. We had ice in some buckets filled from a recent rain. On the down side, I had a mishap with my pot roast. It was in a disposable pan, covered with fresh foil, not a wrinkle in it. The pan was full with vegetables all around. I placed the pan which was flimsy in a heavy cardboard box, but the box was too big. I entered my foyer to run it to the folks planning to serve it to homeless women, the pan slid in the box, toppling out of my hands. It fell to the floor against the wall, where I caught the foil against the meat. I lost almost half the vegetables and a lot of broth on the floor. Thank goodness, the meat stayed in the pan, The pan was bent from the clash with the wall and my hand, the foil was crumpled. The pan had some empty spots. Not too pretty, after all. i re-covered it, rushed out to drop it off. When I returned home, I had to clean my floor and throw out potatoes and carrots to feed about 2 to 4 people. The new potato salad recipe didn't work out. I liked it, but my dad didn't. Roasting two kinds of potatoes in olive oil and spring onions was okay. Tossing them with bacon crumbles and diced green onion tops and black pepper was okay. Serving at room temperature was okay with me (potato salads are usually cold). But the dressing calls for miso. I don't have any and did not want to buy fermented soybean paste just for one use. So instead of mixing that with vinegar, I just used lite Italian dressing sparsely sprinkled on. I have lots left over. Dad wants it hot --"Is it supposed to be served cold like that?" So, we won't be using that for Thanksgiving. It does look nice, tho'. The girls made brownies with me and decorated them with sprinkles-their idea. They had fun. One of them helped set the table, and did some other things. She took some credit, and patted herself on the back. She's five. Julie Andrews is singing now. I think I need to go read a book. |
| I was cooking when the power went out. I had three things going on at once. I was cooling off the pot roast with potatoes and carrots that I cooked for the homeless shelter for women for Sunday. When cool, I would transfer it to an aluminum pan with foil covering, refrigerate until tomorrow, and they'll reheat at the shelter. Others are bringing the rest of the meal. The second was that I had in the oven some roasting potatoes, sweet and regular, for a potato salad I found in a magazine. The trial run at home will be tomorrow; if they like it, I'll do it again for Thanksgiving. I'll be able to do most of the work the day before, then bring to room tempera the next day and toss with vinegar and green onions. A little less stress on the holiday. The third item I was just finishing up-boxed mac and cheese for supper with Dad. I had leftover Waldorf salad and tossed salad. I had to mix up the macaroni in the dark, but we weren't ready for dinner. We groped around in the dark until he found his little flashlight-imagine an old man shuffling in the dark-and then some matches. For about five hours my neighborhood had no power. I left the potatoes steaming in the hot oven and wouldn't open it, so they finished cooking anyway. It was cold, ice had formed on the back porch. The most light around was a solar windmill on the porch, a model T with lights on its wheels standing out of a large flower pot. I had already fed the neighbor's cat, so that was done. We sat with our candles to read and a transistor radio on the only station he could find, a gospel station in another town. To break up the boredom, we got up to eat lukewarm and cold food. I couldn't concentrate on my book, so I closed my eyes and listened to the music and the thoughts running through my head. Finally, when my dad had to get up and stretch his aching bones, the lights came back. That meant I had to deal with all the food and wash dishes. The cold air in the house had kept the food well. I have oil lamps in the window behind the washer. In other words, they're not accessible in emergency. I could have gotten on my exercise bike. It's not like I need to see where I'm going, and it would have warmed me up. But no. I sat. I could have written some notes on the book I was reading, but I had an excuse not to do that. I bent the frame of my glasses in the dark. The power outage is going to be my excuse for everything that doesn't go right this weekend. Very inconvenient. But convenient. |
| I'm all over the place today. I substituted wax paper for parchment paper. Actually, the recipe didn't call for either. But I saw Alton Brown using it for cookies to avoid misshaping them by scraping off the pan with a spatula. So I thought I would try the same for my sausage balls that I'm taking to a brunch in the morning. We're doing boxes for Operation Christmas Child, and I haven't purchased anything yet. I have to stop off at the Dollar Store for crayons on my way to the brunch. Let me tell you that wax paper doesn't work. It sticks to whatever you're cooking, unless it's soft like a cake. I had to take a knife and cut off the bottoms, so that no one will eat wax paper. i did manage to do the last pan with parchment. It worked like a dream. The wax paper keeps the pans easy to clean, but no so good for the food. I'm not happy with the lopsided turnout of voters in my state. The winning side did a lot of emotional and untrue ads. They were obviously using scare tactics. Neither side did much in the way of platform or issues. It was all personal attacks and mud-slinging. It was ugly. The voters for the other side just didn't go out in the rain to make an effort. Their indifference determined the outcome. In this season of horrible TV programming--my favorite sitcoms have turned political and repetitive, I have been watching Christmas movies on Hallmark channels.They are usually romances and have strong elements of nostalgia and positive outlooks. Circumstances are somewhat contrived. Instead of being hectic, and having normal work and school hours, they always have time for skating, shopping, decorating, and singing. You know, the way we fantasize that Christmas should be, with hot chocolate and down time. After a few, you begin to recognize the actors and realize they must have contracts with Hallmark. The bigger names include Roger Moore of 007 fame, who appeared as a stuffy English grandfather. He hates Christmas, but undergoes a rapid change of heart around his grandchildren and his late daughter-in-law's sister, their guardian. It's kind of fun. I tell myself I could write stories like that. I can contrive some good, clean family tales. So I justify the time sitting in an easy chair. In June, my neighbor, a doctor, left to practice medicine in another state. She had to get a license to go there. her husband joined her two weeks later. I was asked to feed the cat. A family member would come once a month to give the cat a flea treatment and check up on her. That person also cuts the grass and is now raking leaves. The summer is over, and I still have the cat, an outdoor cat. They practiced with her, getting her to eat on my patio. I was only expecting "summer". Now it's almost Thanksgiving, and this cat is still begging for dinner on my back porch. No sign of anyone next door, except I notice the grass is cut. I think I've inherited a cat. The money they left for food has been gone quite a while. The cat was only feeding at night, but now she's there 24 hours, crying like she's starving. |
| Note that I have a 13+ rating here, so I can discuss the topic at hand. (I did not choose the rating originally, but I wrote about a violent crime in my area that haunted all of us. The rating was placed on it my management. I just left it.)I will be referring to the entertainment industry as "Hollywood" in a very lose sense, not the actual place. OK, I did not coin the title of today's blog. I got it from Laura Ingraham, a news commentator. It just seems to fit. Hollywood has been getting more graphic and more violent as time passes. We are becoming desensitized to sexual crime, to abuse, to loose morals. No matter how hard a parent tries to protect their children from what's on TV or in the movies, all their friends know about it and talk about it at school, and even at church. These "things" are on the Internet and in the music. The kids watch and move with the music. Girls dress kind of slutty at an early age, not knowing any better. I've heard young boys talking filth around grown-ups like it's normal. So now, we are appalled as new charges are made almost daily about Hollywood moguls and actors. But if we think about it, all that darkness comes from somewhere. What is in the heart of the "artist" who thinks up this stuff, who produces it and directs it. Granted the actors and crew may be mere pawns seeking fame and fortune, so they do what they're told. But don't they get hardened by it after a while. When do they stop thinking of it as out of the norm? If they are busy dreaming up the violent and sadistic, maybe that's what they want or begin to want. Does filth come from a seedy, dark soul? As a writer, I don't want to be censored. There are times when we have to deal with the realities of life, and they sometimes include crime and sickness. So where do we draw the line? I know in many films, perversion is superfluous. We don't need to see masochism; we can take a hint. We don't need to see the face that a bullet has blown through (I saw that tonight from a two year old movie. It did not add to the reality. It was just nasty.)When does the artist have to repress his desire to thrill and excite? When does he or she have to stop pushing past the boundaries? Obviously, the objectification of women and the brashness on camera, and maybe in books, is coming home with a vengeance. People are losing their jobs. Many will go to jail. If this many people are speaking out, think how many are still holding their secrets.Even if Hollywood cleaned up its act just a little, the damage may have been done. When I was kid, porn consisted of pictures of women with bare chests. I remember the boys would sneak outside to look at the Sears catalog for pictures of women in undergarments. Now they can see more live in the grocery store, and see all on the Internet. Our culture has lost the sense of right and wrong. The idea of a faithful couple is a thing of the past. Ingrahm had two child and family therapists on her show. They both claim that they are seeing abnormal behavior in children as young as six. They don't know what normal relationships are. If they want something, they want it NOW. There is no patience, no reasoning. These children believe they have the right to demand and take what they want when they want it. So did these moguls of entertainment and business. As members of a creative community, we have to figure our part in setting things right for the next generation. We don't want even more people to experience what these victims coming forward have endured. We want freedom and must not be censored. But we must be responsible, too. |
| The growing fiasco in Hollywood and the entertainment industry raises a lot of questions. One is how many women gave in to the demands and pressures? Are they that desperate for fame and fortune? How did so many creeps get away with it for so long? What finally broke the dam of secrets? Isn't this the stereotype that a lot of us had in mind anyway? Did the women encourage or silently allow it? Were there no decent men who were aware of these antics who were willing to be real men and stand up to them? Are some of these women willing to admit that they never would have gotten the part if they hadn't given in to some creep? Are there some better actors who were turned down because they didn't submit? How did these men get away with it for so long, without fear of reprisal? Did some of the women encourage or tease the men into thinking they had a chance? No doubt, it will take a long time to sort it out. Think of all the movies where women allowed themselves to be exploited on camera. They didn't have good roles; they were just willing to be naked or fondled, almost as a backdrop, but not essential to the story. What were the men wearing? What were they doing? They weren't exploited, for sure. These movies were made, directed, filmed by men, for men. The women who participated weren't helping women or women's rights. They were just getting a paycheck. Pardon my prudishness. I think it's time to reconsider what we want to see in movies, how we let the men treat the women in the movies, and how women are viewed. In turn, movies and TV influence the culture. Despite women's lib, and attempts at equal pay and representation, women are objectified in entertainment and our culture as much, if not more, than ever. One issue to consider is how women dress. The red carpet look is not the every day look. Newscasters don't need short skirts or low cut tops to report the news. If the men are in business suits, the woman should wear something of a similar nature. If three sportscasters are wearing tie and jacket, why would the female reporter be standing there in an evening dress with a slit up to her hip and her leg poked out in front? If a man wore a tight tank top, sandals and tight shorts, we'd be repulsed at the news or weather or sports. Why should a woman do it? Situation comedies don't need to do so much body shaming or revealing, unless it involves a fashion show or ball room dancing. Jack and Will need to spend less time talking about or touching Grace's boob, and prove they have other issues in their lives. Since Hollywood moguls and criminals can't control themselves, women need to cover up a tad more and be more wary of story lines as well as wardrobe. Hopefully, the general public will wake up and objectify women less. Maybe more women will get into those positions of power, unseating the men. Encourage your daughters to become directors and producers, not just actors and rock stars. Let them dress appropriately for where they are going. Strangers don't need to be gawking at their bodies. Let something good come out of this mess. |
| There's a show on INSP that I love to watch. It's a half hour show devoted to a different state each week. Taylor Hicks, a singer, is the amiable host. They try to pick out the most iconic food from each state, starting with an appetizer, and ending with dessert. Taylor samples the dishes, helps to prepare them, and sometimes to fish or hunt for the ingredients. For example, last season California was featured. I can't remember all categories, but they showcased avocados, almonds, and artichokes. I guess they got stuck at the beginning of the alphabet. Almost all artichokes in the USA come from California. Taylor had to go to the fields and harvest the artichokes, which involves tossing them into a pack on your back. Various cooks prepare each dish, so you only see them one at a time. There is never a whole meal at once. In Oregon, the main dish was the Dungeness crab, which he had to fetch himself. A side dish involved hunting for truffles which are buried in moist, sandy soil in the woods. These truffles are mixed into a macaroni and cheese. In maryland, the main dish was the blue crab, steamed, not boiled. The side dish was oyster stew. This is served with beaten biscuits. The dough has no yeast or leavening. It is beaten literally until it rises. Minnesota featured a strange mushroom, that we can't get in my part of the world. They promise it has a hearty, earthy flavor. They saute it in butter and use as an appetizer. The side is a potato batter flat bread from Northern Europe. It's cooked on a griddle like a pancake, handled carefully, and rolled up. It's eaten plain. Taylor had to make his own, and it took a lot of practice. Today I watched the Washington state episode. The appetizer is made of geoduck (pronounced gooey duck-that's how they tell if you're a stranger). It's a type of clam (a bivalve) that has been planted in the mud along the ocean.When they're a few years old, you have to dig elbow deep into the mud and feel around. This weird looking thing comes up out of the mud. There are lots of recipes for it, cooked and raw. For the state plate, they sliced up the clean geoduck and mixed it with salad greens and edible flowers. The main dish was salmon. There are several types in Washington. They catch them as they swim back from Alaska. Each has a slightly different flavor. The fisherman feathered favored the coho, which is what Taylor hooked from the boat. For the side dish, he picked apples from this cool place. A city bought a small orchard that was about to be closed. Now it's a public orchard and park, featuring concerts, cider pressing, and fairs. They have several varieties of apples, which they mixed to make stewed apples outdoors. It sounds like the recipe my grandmother used on the east coast, apples, butter, sugar, and cinnamon. That was the side dish. Dessert was a cream tart with freshly picked raspberries. Taylor showed us how to pick a good raspberry. Washington produces about 90% of America's raspberries. To go with the tart, he showed how to make expresso one cup at a time. Washington is known its blends of coffee and pressing specialties. There's even an art to how you add the milk. I would love to have a book with all 50 states. Not only do you get some food ideas and recipe overviews, you learn about your country the way you never did in school. I'm already guessing what he'll feature for my state. |
| Yes, I am one of those people who lets the answering machine screen my phone calls. Most of my calls are just sale calls, so I don't want to talk to them. There's also the drug store just calling my dad to let him know his prescription is ready. I switched to text messages on my cell for my drugs, so that's reduced a few calls. I'm tired of all the Medicare supplement calls, the mortgage calls, election polls,charity drives, etc. We have our insurance handled. No one here has any credit card debt. The mortgage has been zero for over a decade. I discovered that when you give to a charity, they are never satisfied, but will call you every six weeks or so for more.I'd rather have junk mail, but that costs the beggars more than automated calls. I can choose my own charities without random calls. For voting matters, I'd prefer to have something in writing, so that I can think about it. These calls tend to come at inconvenient times and always last too long. I have become a person who hangs up, not only on computerized calls, but even live callers, no apologies. If it's someone I with whom I want to talk, like the doctor's office, I'll pick up. If I miss the call, and there's a message, and I'll call back. I want the insurance people, the credit card companies, the debt companies and other solicitors to back off. Phone solicitation is one of my pet peeves. I never give out my cell phone to anyone but friends and doctors (and the drug store). Yet, most of my missed calls are from long distance unknown callers--solicitors who don't know me. I'm just a random number. At least the home phone is on some sales list for home owner, retailer, age related, or political party. (Like everyone over 50 needs a security tag, insurance, a reverse mortgage, or incontinence products.) If you call me, identify yourself and wait: I might run to the phone before you hang up. |
| For cat lovers, change that to More Purr, Less Hiss. I heard that's a bumper sticker. Doesn't it make sense? We live in a glass half empty world. It feels so much better when someone comes along and reminds us that the glass is half full. How uplifting! Everywhere we turn, there are negative reports, negative attacks. No one can say anything without being taunted, or someone reading something else into the remark. I've seen a change in our culture in my lifetime. I remember when Cheers was a popular new TV show. I didn't like it when I finally saw it. The characters were always insulting one another, and the audience laughed at the rude remarks. The public loved it, and the show was a mass hit. Eventually, I saw enough reruns to realize there was camaraderie beneath the surface. However, TV writers kept going. Everyone became fair game for attacks, with no warm, fuzzy feelings in the background. Since those days, we have advanced in cell phones, everyone has email access, and the social media has blossomed. Snide remarks, or snarks, are commonplace throughout society. The Cheers characters were "snarky" before the word existed. With modern media, we make our snarks without putting our faces to it, and it gets easier each time. We are able to bully people without any personal risk. We're reaching the point where snarks are the norm, not the exception. Late night comedians hold no one sacred. Prime time shows, with school children still up, are setting the norms for behavior. Being rude and insulting is socially acceptable. We complain constantly and look for problems where none exist. We are becoming extremely whiny, maybe globally. The rich and the pampered are not exempt from the complaining. Wouldn't it be great to hear a professional football player say, "Hey, I'm really happy. I'm lucky enough to be well paid for doing a job I love. I have a lot of fans who want my picture. I get to take care of my family. I love life. I'm happy to play by the rules and live up to my fans' expectations because I get so much in return." I'd like to hear any celebrity admit that they don't always agree with our leaders, but that he or she feels privileged to live in a place where he can voice disagreement and have some input, instead of tearing things down. I'd like to hear some immigrants or naturalized citizens say that they are thankful to be in a place they feel safe and free; maybe they're homesick, but they're glad to be away from the oppression and the danger. We all could use a little more wag and less bark. In the workplace, the market place, the home, or on the campus, we could use more cheer and less griping. We need a lot more forgiveness, more grace, and understanding. Our social media could stand a little more purring and less hissing. |
| All the stores now feature Christmas lights. Before purchasing, notice where they are made. Almost all are made in China. You might want to think about taking that bargain. These lights are made with child labor. No volunteer labor, or after school jobs, but all day long for six or seven days a week under hard task masters and for very little money. Our bargains are being paid for with the forced labor of children. If you don't like this idea, you might want alternative lighting or forego them altogether. Lights made anywhere else are very expensive and hard to find. Proper storage of lights you already have could eliminate the need to replace them so often. When making your holiday plans, be sure to list some local charity for money, toys or clothes. And don't forget the food bank, not just for the holidays, but all winter. When canned peas go on sale, buy a case and take to the local food bank, for example. This not only makes you feel like a part of the community, but it sets a great example for children and grandchildren. Some communities have a shoe drive, or a drive for hats and gloves. You might have given up Christmas cards or only do it for business associates because of postage rates. But consider all the people you know who are sick or elderly. A card could go a long way for a relative you haven't seen in ages, or the person in the neighborhood who doesn't get out much any more. Personally, I'm going to contribute gifts to the Women's Correctional Center through my church, and participate in my neighborhood association in playing Santa to several children in the local schools. I support the food bank with a check so they can buy in bulk, and a few other things through various groups. I'm planning now, so that I won't miss any deadlines. As for the lights, I love to look at them. I was dazzled by Kansas City where the white strands are on all year long. But I just can't bring myself to buy lights that are made in China. |
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