The New Yorker covers: November 20, 1965
3 days ago
Sunday, June 30, 2013
Ode to an Old Friend
Another blogger recently wrote a very touching blog about the recent loss of a long time friend of 43 years.
It got me to thinking about my longest ( living) relationship......a friend I have known, loved, hung out with, laughed with, cried with, shared with, disagreed with, traveled with, caroused with, grown up with, grown old with.....all of the above in spite of the fact that we have been separated by 3000 miles for all but the first 15 months of our relatinship ( not counting the many times we have traveled together and traveled to be with each other). Some day I may tell you a lot more about this friendship, but I have just realized that my frugality,my refusal to part with any beloved thing I have collected over my lifetime and my tendency to hoard the good stuff and not let it go sort of slops over into my relationships. I do try to hold on to the good ones. Just 10 or 12 years ago I still had 5 or 6 friends whom I had known for more than 50 years. I have lost all but 3 of them to death over recent years, but it sort of shocks me when I realize that my newest close friendship was engendered about 35 or 40 years ago. Oh, I do have some newer, younger friends, but they are not quite the same as those others that have been part of me for 50, 60, 70 years. Even some of my lovers remained friends long after the flames of passion died down......quality lasts after lust and passion have ridden off into the sunset. But, I digress.....I was intending to tell you about my Oldest Friendship...... Stel.
I remember like it was yesterday that morning in September of 1940 when Sylvia Shahinian (my then oldest friend since age 9) and I climbed the steps to Shaw Jr. High School in West Philadelphia and Syl suddenly stopped and hissed, "Be careful....there's that girl". What girl, I asked. That new girl who lives on our street. Why should I be careful I asked. "She wants to be friends with us", Syl said.
I did not see that as a problem so I disengaged my sleeve from Syl's grip and sauntered up the steps to the new girl. "Hi", I said. "Hi", she said. and so began my very long association with Stella.
That was more than 73 years ago and I have just paraphrased Bob Hope's old song, "Thanks For The Memory", hitting some highlights of this rare friendship and I intend to sing it to her........yes I will. Since she adamantly refuses to have anything to do with a computer since she retired as head of the Reference Dept of the New Hampshire State Library, I will have to make a CD and send it to her. Only Stel and I will understand all the references. but I am really tickled with it and will share my lyrics with you below.
.
I hope she will get as big a kick out of it as I have gotten developing it. I guess I had better hurry....neither of us is getting any younger. Where did I put my pitchpipe?
Some may consider it maudlin and sappy, but I stand by it proudly.
Thanks for the memory
of Paris long ago, trips to Mexico,
Stomach pains and hurricanes
and sharing Guillermo
I thank you so much.
Thanks for the memory
My only Broadway show
was Kiss Me Kate, you know
The transit strike caused us to hike
Manhattan high and low
I thank you so much..
I loved your father and mother
And had a huge crush on your brother
And you were a friend like no other
I felt lucky to be
close to your family.
So thanks for the memory
Las Vegas was such fun
I taught you 21
T'was in the Golden Nugget
Can't remember if we won
But thank you so much.
Second chorus
Thanks for the memory
of cruising Norway's fjords
we've toured and dined like Lords
and Frisco was two inches, and my wagon was a Ford
I thank you so much.
Thanks for the memory
San Miguel was so hypnotic
Our villa was exotic
The trip to Guanajuato
Showed that Don was Don Quixotic
Oh, thank you so much.
Many's the times that we feasted
I don't think that we ever fasted
And look at how long we have lasted
We've had great fun, for more than 71 (years, that is)
So thanks for the memory
of music near and far
Guillermo played guitar
and Pete and Joe swung sweet and low
and look, here we still are
I'm awfully glad I met you
Stella darling, you're my Star
I thank you so much.
Friday, June 21, 2013
Eureka.......In which Lo Finally Learns to Cheat Bigtime
I just realized that I have been overlooking a fantastic blogging tool......that of re-publishing old blogs when one is unable to put one word after another in any intelligible fashion. Lately I have been preoccupied with some urgent matters and each time I have peered into my blogging brain I have seen nothing but a vast expanse of nutthin'.......except for a few wispy bits of ash from frazzled brain cells sacrificed to my efforts to gather up some info for the dreaded IRS.
So, what I have done is go back to the very beginning of my blogging life when I did not have a clue about blogging (not terribly different from my current clueless condition actually.) At that time I had only a handful of followers....mostly loyal members of my family, and if I got a single comment I was euphoric. And, not unlike today, when I got no comments I was grumpy, whiny and generally pissed off. Some things change and some things remain the same.
Hold onto your hats....here we go.
Hold onto your hats....here we go.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Guess Who Is #1 in Guinness Book of Klutzes
It's no contest, really. (You
may THINK you are a bigger klutz than I am, but I don't really want to
fight about it so please, just acknowledge my greatness in the klutz
department and let's move on).
I started honing my klutzy skills as a child, dropped out of the race for a number of middle years and now seem to be perfecting my technique in my decrepitude. I am not bragging about this, you understand, just recognizing and accepting it.
As a child my claim to the title rested on simply falling down a lot, often from standing on my own foot and then trying to pick up the bottom foot to walk, but also tripping over twigs, pebbles or cracks in the pavement. When I grew my great boobs my talents expanded to feats like catching my dress or shirt on the protruding bolts holding the ping pong table net in place, thereby rending asunder my garments with great regularity. Until I learned to allow for the protrusions I hardly owned any clothing which had not been darned or otherwise mended from such encounters, much to my poor Mamma's grief and horror.
Then when I lost 50 lbs. and stopped bumping into so many things the plague went into a state of remission, I guess. I remained somewhat accident prone but things took on a much more sophisticated quality as I learned to use tools .......I think the epitome was reached when I managed to nail my finger to the picture frame I was building........lesson: never hold the piece of wood with your fingers behind the place where you are hitting the nail with the hammer.
It is a small miracle that I survived all those years of using power tools and building stuff while still keeping all fingers and toes and minor limbs attached to my body. God was good to me and my Guardian Angels must have worked overtime. . However, after the past few days I think the plague is returning. I have been behaving like my left foot is attached to my right leg and vice versa. This is beyond klutzy. A few days ago I was trying to put on a stretchy velcro knee brace and pulled so hard to stretch the flap that I pulled my foot off the chair it was resting on thereby knocking over the chair and myself in the process. Only bruises, tenks gott, but very unsettling (no pun intended).
Before continuing I must explain that one of my many weird habits is to keep my purse (very large with 2 carrying straps) on the floor under the dining table where I live for a good part of the day since that is where the laptop resides.) Consequently, I should at all times be very careful to ensure that it is tucked safely under the table without protruding enticingly to tempt disaster. Well, of course, I don't, so there have been many awkward encounters, but none as great as last nite when I rose from my chair to let a cat in or out or fetch some delicacy from the kitchen or something and somehow managed to step into the jaws of the purse which then wrapped it's straps around my leg and anchored me to the floor on the left side. Meanwhile, my right leg was still merrily making it's way to the other room. Both dining chairs went over in this one and I found myself in my old familiar position of shame.....in a shambles and general state of disarray on the floor with several cats peering down at me with puzzled expressions. Careful counting elicited the info that I still had all my body parts attached, no one was bleeding and nothing seemed to be broken, sprained or otherwise mangled. Sigh.
This is obviously very dangerous and must be solved at once.....migawd I could have fallen on a cat and killed it. I had better go into the rubber room to ponder..........I love to solve problems, but this one may not be so easy..............
P.S. On another subject entirely:
To my new follower, Shirley, who made me faint with joy when she said she went back and read every one of my blogs (wow) your comment yesterday has no ID so I do not know how to thank you privately......therefore you must endure this public gratitude and/or embarrassment and humiliation......Thank you!
And, while I am on the subject......., to all my dear followers whose affection and loyalty I appreciate and treasure.........thank you , dear ones from the bottom of my heart....you light up my life!
I started honing my klutzy skills as a child, dropped out of the race for a number of middle years and now seem to be perfecting my technique in my decrepitude. I am not bragging about this, you understand, just recognizing and accepting it.
As a child my claim to the title rested on simply falling down a lot, often from standing on my own foot and then trying to pick up the bottom foot to walk, but also tripping over twigs, pebbles or cracks in the pavement. When I grew my great boobs my talents expanded to feats like catching my dress or shirt on the protruding bolts holding the ping pong table net in place, thereby rending asunder my garments with great regularity. Until I learned to allow for the protrusions I hardly owned any clothing which had not been darned or otherwise mended from such encounters, much to my poor Mamma's grief and horror.
Then when I lost 50 lbs. and stopped bumping into so many things the plague went into a state of remission, I guess. I remained somewhat accident prone but things took on a much more sophisticated quality as I learned to use tools .......I think the epitome was reached when I managed to nail my finger to the picture frame I was building........lesson: never hold the piece of wood with your fingers behind the place where you are hitting the nail with the hammer.
It is a small miracle that I survived all those years of using power tools and building stuff while still keeping all fingers and toes and minor limbs attached to my body. God was good to me and my Guardian Angels must have worked overtime. . However, after the past few days I think the plague is returning. I have been behaving like my left foot is attached to my right leg and vice versa. This is beyond klutzy. A few days ago I was trying to put on a stretchy velcro knee brace and pulled so hard to stretch the flap that I pulled my foot off the chair it was resting on thereby knocking over the chair and myself in the process. Only bruises, tenks gott, but very unsettling (no pun intended).
Before continuing I must explain that one of my many weird habits is to keep my purse (very large with 2 carrying straps) on the floor under the dining table where I live for a good part of the day since that is where the laptop resides.) Consequently, I should at all times be very careful to ensure that it is tucked safely under the table without protruding enticingly to tempt disaster. Well, of course, I don't, so there have been many awkward encounters, but none as great as last nite when I rose from my chair to let a cat in or out or fetch some delicacy from the kitchen or something and somehow managed to step into the jaws of the purse which then wrapped it's straps around my leg and anchored me to the floor on the left side. Meanwhile, my right leg was still merrily making it's way to the other room. Both dining chairs went over in this one and I found myself in my old familiar position of shame.....in a shambles and general state of disarray on the floor with several cats peering down at me with puzzled expressions. Careful counting elicited the info that I still had all my body parts attached, no one was bleeding and nothing seemed to be broken, sprained or otherwise mangled. Sigh.
This is obviously very dangerous and must be solved at once.....migawd I could have fallen on a cat and killed it. I had better go into the rubber room to ponder..........I love to solve problems, but this one may not be so easy..............
P.S. On another subject entirely:
To my new follower, Shirley, who made me faint with joy when she said she went back and read every one of my blogs (wow) your comment yesterday has no ID so I do not know how to thank you privately......therefore you must endure this public gratitude and/or embarrassment and humiliation......Thank you!
And, while I am on the subject......., to all my dear followers whose affection and loyalty I appreciate and treasure.........thank you , dear ones from the bottom of my heart....you light up my life!
Friday, December 4, 2009
The Loneliness of the Cyberspace Blogger
December, 2009
Experiment gone wrong
Horrors !! In a desperate effort to learn how to upload an image from
my pix files onto my blog I have committed an unpardonable sin at worst
and an egregious error at best......I intended to try to post one of my
cartoons as an experiment and after four or five failed attempts..(
three of the drawings needed to be rotated 90 degrees, one somehow got
enlarged beyond fitting the page and another one just disappeared amid
my wild flailing around) I chose one set of pohotos I knew was right
side up and, intending to only create a draft and delete, old
fumble-fingers accidentally hit "publish". Since I do not know how to
delete an item once it has been published I fear I will have to live
with those images of someone who looks vaguely familiar but whom I have
not seen in some time. The only saving grace I can think of is the fact
that whenever any of you find yourself complacently and patronizingly
thinking of me as a harmless old lady, just remember that I wasn't
always so harmless........
Please forgive this transgression......I swear it wasn't intentional.
Those of you who have seen me in my current decrepitude should take
warning, however, that this sort of thing could happen to anyone after
80 odd years of wear and tear........
Oh, Misery
November, 2009
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
Short P.S. to My Last Blog Re the FastDiet
(a follower named Mollie left a comment on my last blog inquiring about the FastDiet and Sarah, the British housewife who put me on to it. I just left the following comment under her comment because I have no way of reaching her. On the off chance that some of you had similar queries I am just posting it here. Needless to say, I will have a lot more to say about the subject in my next blog or two. I have found it to be a most fascinating subject and a totally marvelous way of eating. More later.)
I just tried to give Mollie the info she asked for on the FastDiet and Sarah's blogs about it but she has no blogsite nor contact info so I will just leave a few bits here in case she comes back to look.
The best way to get the information is to Google the FastDiet or the 5:2 Diet.
To read Sarah's blogs re her experiences, go to her blogsite
http://secretworldofahousewife.blogspot.com
and keep going back through older posts till you get to about April 30. From there thru May there are several very interesting pieces on her reactions and successes,
As for me....I am sold on it....am into my 5th week , lost 5 lbs, feel much better, have practically no problem with hunger on my fast days and can easily see myself staying on this program for the rest of my life. I could never say that about any other diet I have ever been on and, take my word for it, I have been on ALL of them, every damned last one. For the first time in my life I feel in control and am not living in fear of my cravings and that, my dears, is really Something.
Hope this helps.
Love,
Healthier and slightly skinnier, Lo
I just tried to give Mollie the info she asked for on the FastDiet and Sarah's blogs about it but she has no blogsite nor contact info so I will just leave a few bits here in case she comes back to look.
The best way to get the information is to Google the FastDiet or the 5:2 Diet.
To read Sarah's blogs re her experiences, go to her blogsite
http://secretworldofahousewife.blogspot.com
and keep going back through older posts till you get to about April 30. From there thru May there are several very interesting pieces on her reactions and successes,
As for me....I am sold on it....am into my 5th week , lost 5 lbs, feel much better, have practically no problem with hunger on my fast days and can easily see myself staying on this program for the rest of my life. I could never say that about any other diet I have ever been on and, take my word for it, I have been on ALL of them, every damned last one. For the first time in my life I feel in control and am not living in fear of my cravings and that, my dears, is really Something.
Hope this helps.
Love,
Healthier and slightly skinnier, Lo
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
Warning! I Think the Mean, Contemptible, Evil Lo Has Seized Control today....Hazmat Outfits Recommended
Well, dammit.....last week I was a bright, cheery, feeble but grateful 85 year old just futzing around here doing my thing.....which ain't much, but, what the hell....I was 85 years old after all.
Today I am a grumpy, frazzled, bitter, vengeful, decrepit 86 year old and not a pretty sight, I'll tell you. I did not have any idea how much OLDER a person feels at 86 than a person felt at 85 (which was still pretty damned old, I'll have you know.). And the trouble is, even if you can psych yourself up to ignore, forget and totally blank out the event and the transition, people just won't let you get away with that. They keep reminding you and rubbing your nose in it with phone calls and cheery greeting cards and all sorts of well meant but painfully received prods. Sigh.
I know, I know.......I should be proud to have managed to achieve this dubious pinnacle and grateful that I still have enough marbles rattling around in my ancient skull to be able to spew forth all these long words and sentences. And, do you know what.......I AM proud and grateful. But, Oy Vey......it ain't easy to be 86 particularly when you are then going on 87.
That said, I will just report that I did survive the week somehow and you can still find me at the same old stand, tossing bits of lettuce and swiss chard at my Fabulous Flying Finches, screaming threats and epithets at them as I observe that they have once again switched nest boxes and asking them what I should tell the babies, should any of the eggs hatch, about who their parents really were......even as I wonder if the babies would give a shit as long as some bird or other shoved some food down their gullets. I somehow doubt if Finches spend much time wondering who their real birth mothers were.....do ya' think?
And, in the spare time left to me after doing all that wondering, I am still going around cleaning up hairballs that Gussie so thoughtfully leaves me, since, with her clever feline mind, she knows I need small tasks to perform that are simple and do not tax my ancientness too much and leave me with a feeling of accomplishment. She, too, means well, but just does not understand about the knees.
I am happy to report that I am still doing well on the FastDiet.........I can hardly believe it myself, but I am into week 3, have successfully fasted for 5 of 16 days, have actually lost 3 or 4 pounds and am thrilled beyond words that I may have finally, after 75 years of searching, struggling and suffering, found the eating program that is perfect for me. Godbless Sarah, the lovely British Blogger........http://secretworldofahousewife.blogspot.com ..., for showing me the way to deal with my food insanity in a healthy and easy manner.
And to finish up my random ranting on a really positive note, I must tell you of my recent experience with the Lost Needle. You must all know of my ongoing problems with my vision so I will simply report that each day I discover a new thing which I can no longer do. Most recently it became obvious that, if my life depended on it, I would probably never again be able to thread a needle no matter how many pairs of spectacles and magnifying glasses I employed, but I figured that I could get Florence to thread the needle on my sewing machine and could thereby duke it out to run a wandering line of stitches (mostly by feel) in order to put up a hem. (the days of my hemming things by hand ended some time ago). Unfortunately, I forgot about the quirks of inserting the bobbin into this machine and after about 20 abortive tries and much cursing each time I heard the dreadful sound of the bobbin falling out resulting in the thread breaking and necessitating calling Flo to rethread the needle yet again, I decided to give up and do the damned thing by hand. How lucky, I thought, that a while back I had jumped on an email offer of some needles with eyes that you simply pulled the thread down a slot in order to thread them. Yeah, sure......but where had I put them? In some safe place, of course, but where might that safe place be? An hour later, after tearing apart the sewing department in my house without finding them, I dispatched my helper to the fabric store to buy a new supply. Home she came clutching a wonderful pack of 6 needles of various sizes and I pounced on them and proceeded to thread the one my undextrous fingers could best hold. A little tough for my limited sight, but doable, and off went hand-hemming away mostly by feel, but good enough, till the thread was too short to continue, so I made some knots and took a new piece of thread to finish. Then, to my horror, as I pressed the thread onto the slit I saw the needle slip from my fingers, fly through the air and land........somewhere....... in my living room probably, but it might as well be China for all the good that would do me. Flo was gone for the day so first I crawled every inch of the floor with my biggest flashlight.........not a sign. Next I seized the floor lamp that I work by and turned it upside down and combed the area again, uttering horrid sounds, curses and weeping bitter tears intermittently. Zilch. I felt every inch of the carpet with both fingers and toes hoping to impale a digit on the damned needle. Nada. I gave up and went to bed thinking unmentionable thoughts.
Next morning, with a bit of renewed energy I crawled from bed and repeated the process in the light of day.....Zero. Before giving up entirely I decided to move all the furniture in the vicinity of the crime scene and try one last time. As I reached the place where the carpet ended and the wood floor began......the spot under which my chair had resided I caught a brief gleam and my heart leaped up. Partially obscuring the prize was a BD card which had fallen on the floor. It was one of the cleverest cards I had ever received (and it even had sound) congratulating me on my achievement in reaching 86. Carefully, in order to get more light on the subject, I reached out and moved the card. In doing so the page fell open and out blared the opening bars of the Hallelujah Chorus!
I am not sure but I think I wet my bloomers.
Today I am a grumpy, frazzled, bitter, vengeful, decrepit 86 year old and not a pretty sight, I'll tell you. I did not have any idea how much OLDER a person feels at 86 than a person felt at 85 (which was still pretty damned old, I'll have you know.). And the trouble is, even if you can psych yourself up to ignore, forget and totally blank out the event and the transition, people just won't let you get away with that. They keep reminding you and rubbing your nose in it with phone calls and cheery greeting cards and all sorts of well meant but painfully received prods. Sigh.
I know, I know.......I should be proud to have managed to achieve this dubious pinnacle and grateful that I still have enough marbles rattling around in my ancient skull to be able to spew forth all these long words and sentences. And, do you know what.......I AM proud and grateful. But, Oy Vey......it ain't easy to be 86 particularly when you are then going on 87.
That said, I will just report that I did survive the week somehow and you can still find me at the same old stand, tossing bits of lettuce and swiss chard at my Fabulous Flying Finches, screaming threats and epithets at them as I observe that they have once again switched nest boxes and asking them what I should tell the babies, should any of the eggs hatch, about who their parents really were......even as I wonder if the babies would give a shit as long as some bird or other shoved some food down their gullets. I somehow doubt if Finches spend much time wondering who their real birth mothers were.....do ya' think?
And, in the spare time left to me after doing all that wondering, I am still going around cleaning up hairballs that Gussie so thoughtfully leaves me, since, with her clever feline mind, she knows I need small tasks to perform that are simple and do not tax my ancientness too much and leave me with a feeling of accomplishment. She, too, means well, but just does not understand about the knees.
I am happy to report that I am still doing well on the FastDiet.........I can hardly believe it myself, but I am into week 3, have successfully fasted for 5 of 16 days, have actually lost 3 or 4 pounds and am thrilled beyond words that I may have finally, after 75 years of searching, struggling and suffering, found the eating program that is perfect for me. Godbless Sarah, the lovely British Blogger........http://secretworldofahousewife.blogspot.com ..., for showing me the way to deal with my food insanity in a healthy and easy manner.
And to finish up my random ranting on a really positive note, I must tell you of my recent experience with the Lost Needle. You must all know of my ongoing problems with my vision so I will simply report that each day I discover a new thing which I can no longer do. Most recently it became obvious that, if my life depended on it, I would probably never again be able to thread a needle no matter how many pairs of spectacles and magnifying glasses I employed, but I figured that I could get Florence to thread the needle on my sewing machine and could thereby duke it out to run a wandering line of stitches (mostly by feel) in order to put up a hem. (the days of my hemming things by hand ended some time ago). Unfortunately, I forgot about the quirks of inserting the bobbin into this machine and after about 20 abortive tries and much cursing each time I heard the dreadful sound of the bobbin falling out resulting in the thread breaking and necessitating calling Flo to rethread the needle yet again, I decided to give up and do the damned thing by hand. How lucky, I thought, that a while back I had jumped on an email offer of some needles with eyes that you simply pulled the thread down a slot in order to thread them. Yeah, sure......but where had I put them? In some safe place, of course, but where might that safe place be? An hour later, after tearing apart the sewing department in my house without finding them, I dispatched my helper to the fabric store to buy a new supply. Home she came clutching a wonderful pack of 6 needles of various sizes and I pounced on them and proceeded to thread the one my undextrous fingers could best hold. A little tough for my limited sight, but doable, and off went hand-hemming away mostly by feel, but good enough, till the thread was too short to continue, so I made some knots and took a new piece of thread to finish. Then, to my horror, as I pressed the thread onto the slit I saw the needle slip from my fingers, fly through the air and land........somewhere....... in my living room probably, but it might as well be China for all the good that would do me. Flo was gone for the day so first I crawled every inch of the floor with my biggest flashlight.........not a sign. Next I seized the floor lamp that I work by and turned it upside down and combed the area again, uttering horrid sounds, curses and weeping bitter tears intermittently. Zilch. I felt every inch of the carpet with both fingers and toes hoping to impale a digit on the damned needle. Nada. I gave up and went to bed thinking unmentionable thoughts.
Next morning, with a bit of renewed energy I crawled from bed and repeated the process in the light of day.....Zero. Before giving up entirely I decided to move all the furniture in the vicinity of the crime scene and try one last time. As I reached the place where the carpet ended and the wood floor began......the spot under which my chair had resided I caught a brief gleam and my heart leaped up. Partially obscuring the prize was a BD card which had fallen on the floor. It was one of the cleverest cards I had ever received (and it even had sound) congratulating me on my achievement in reaching 86. Carefully, in order to get more light on the subject, I reached out and moved the card. In doing so the page fell open and out blared the opening bars of the Hallelujah Chorus!
I am not sure but I think I wet my bloomers.
Sunday, May 26, 2013
Egads....Milestones Reached and Passed.....or Am I Actually Upside Down In A Ditch?
Warning: Do not look for laughs in my blog today......it is all very heartfelt stuff......I do not often deal with me and the nitty-gritty of advanced age in these pages, but once in a while I just feel like talking to you about what is on my mind without trying to amuse or make light of things. If that idea does not appeal to you, just skip this one and try me again next time. I'll still love ya.
What a week! I hardly know how to begin to describe it all. For one thing, I had an appointment at the Department of Motor Vehicles this week.....a very special one........not to sit down and ace the written test of silly driving rules, nor to struggle through the dreaded eye test with my one working eye, nor to grapple white knuckled with the damned, infernal driving test with an always hostile inspector diligently annotating my every minute transgressions only to finally stagger to the window where the wretched photo gets taken....the one you have to live with for the next four or five years. No, this was very different.
My drivers' license is expiring next week and I, in my infinite wisdom, decided there would be no more memorizing of the eye chart to make up for the eye that doesn't see ....no more enduring the annoyance of having to get my Retinologist to specify and authenticate the degree of my ability to see large objects and traffic signs with my "good" eye, no more putting up with the insolence of those driving inspectors just to be granted official permission to operate an automobile for the next year or two......especially when I would not have the poor judgment or the guts to get behind a wheel and endanger my own life not to mention a few others by propelling my vehicle onto a public street or highway. No, after about 70 consecutive years of having an official drivers' license, it was finally time to settle for just a DMV Identification Card. My driving days were officially over.
This is usually the moment when I have read that other people go ballistic and bonkers over the loss of their "Independence"......I say, "Bullshit". I feel nothing of the sort. I have been very content for the past few years of my failing eyesight to let my caregivers chauffeur me all over the place while I relax happily in the passenger seat just giving an occasional order or suggestion now and then. And, during those night hours and the day when I am alone and on my own I have not once wrung my hands and railed against being unable to run out to the market and pick up more Twizzlers when I have just consumed the last one in the bag and there are no more in the cupboard. Amazingly, I have found that I can placidly accept the fact that I can somehow survive for another day without them. (even though that idea would have been unthinkable a few years ago......what?...trapped in the house with no Twizzlers?......aaaarrrrrggghhh......total loss of sanity and control immediately following the realization.)
In the same way, you keep hearing about people protesting wildly the loss of their dignity when forced to don one of those funny paper gowns in a Doctor's office that always reveal a good glimpse of your fanny or what some call their private parts (what a silly term) to anyone around. Or having to suffer the awful shame of calling for a bedpan the Hospital. That is all such a load of crap. Having weird hangups about exposing ones naked body to professionals who have seen one or two of them during their careers has nothing to do with one's actual sense of dignity. Having once been so painfully shy and lacking in self esteem that I chose to slink down alleys rather than walk along the streets where I might encounter a passerby who might happen to look at me (and, I feared, silently judge me to be inadequate), I can understand someone's reluctance to expose themselves to strangers on the grounds of shyness, vulnerability due to low self worth or a mistaken ordering of priorities . But I reject the idea that it has anything to do with loss of dignity. But, to yank myself back from this meandering digression, I do not feel like I have lost my independence by surrendering my right to drive a motor vehicle. I am not confined by bars and I can still think freely, express my cockamamie thoughts freely and, if necessary, call for help to somebody on the Internet. One of you would surely respond, wouldn't you? I may be a little hampered here and there, but I am still independent, goddammit.
However, today I did feel a slight loss of independence when I had to have Ann, my caregiver, read me the questions and fill in my answers on a form demanding that I report for Jury Duty or else and, if not why not? (easy....I am, 86, pretty damned blind and also considerably disabled unless you consider schlepping around like Quasimodo to be a perfectly fine way of getting places.) Of course, I offered this very pedestrian reason rather than tell them the truth which is that I would make the world's worst juror, being dreadfully judgmental, horribly opinionated, totally in favor of capital punishment for all offenses including spitting on the floor and writing poor grammar and misspellings. I would never be selected to sit on any jury so why waste everyone's time and the governments money?
I have a taste of this particular loss of independence whenever I have to have Ann or Florence fill out a form for me in a doctor's office or find my pen when I have dropped it on the floor, or even when the Parking Lot attendant asks for 45 cents more than the $6 I have offered and I just dig out a fistful of change from my wallet and have my helper find the quarter and dimes among the stuff I am holding. That sort of thing does sometimes make me a bit cross but that irritation is immediately drowned out by gratitude that I am so lucky as to have someone who can "see" for me.
Here's a bit of Lo's wisdom on this subject.........to survive the perils of old age and still enjoy life you damn well have to get your priorities in the right order.
And now, on other fronts, I am thrilled and proud to report that I have survived the first week of the FastDiet which consisted of 5 days of eating whatever I wanted and 2 separate random days of my choice in which I consumed only 500 calories per day and all the non caloric liquids my rotund little body wanted or could hold. It has been a fascinating experience.......mind blowing and eye opening.
As I mentioned in my earlier post when I bravely committed to try this regimen, I have never had much trouble in actual fasting as long as I did not let a taste of food pass my lips. (once tasting a morsel actvates a monster who will eat YOU if you happen to be unfortunate or foolish enough to be obstructing my path to
Food. My only discomfort when fasting occurs around 5 pm when I notice an uncomfortable hollow feeling in my middle which I asssume is what people call hunger. I do not know from hunger. I only know from craving. For one thing, I noticed that time sort of stretches out when you are fasting.....you find yourself with all that time that you usually spend either eating, thinking of eating, preparing or obtaining food and then wishing you hadn't eaten all that whatever-it-was before you begin thinking about what you are going to eat tomorrow. If Einstein had gone on a fast when he was formulating his theory of Relativity this odd time situation would have blown his ideas out of the water or set him on a completely different path. Heaven only knows what he might have come up with when he discovered that time expands when you fast. (hmmm, I seem to recall in my one failed effort to understand that theory that it had something to do with time expanding when you move fast....I am now wondering if someone misinterpreted the meaning of "fast"....well, nevermind.....).
As for nourishment and food....in my mind they have no connection to each other whatsoever. However, eating out of boredom, eating for comfort, using food as a tranquilizer to assuage anxiety...oh yeah......those are all the real reasons I eat. I realize I NEVER eat for nourishment. And so it was this week that I learned lots of things about me and food and ithas been quite enlightening.
On the days following my modified fasts I found I felt very good, did not wake up ravenous or dive headlong into the frig or cupboard for some delicacy to stuff in my face. I was, as usual, not hungry since I had not yet put a morsel of food into my mouth and I actually called for my breakfast around noon after I had checked my email and several Stock Market chart services and spent several hours making sure that the stock market had not eaten all of my nest egg since the previous day. I was however, I noticed, very happy that I was looking forward to being able to eat whatever I wanted whenever I wanted it that day and I really enjoyed my toasted cinnamon bagel. Yum. I found that I craved and consumed just about what I ordinarily eat each day....perhaps even a bit less.
And, amazingly, I found this morning that I had actually lost 1 pound during this week, a fact that made me delirious with joy, since I have been unable to shed an ounce by any means for a long time, especially since my mobility is so limited and exercise as we know it is not possible.
Anyway, folks, I am now facing my fast day tomorrow and the beginning of my 2nd week with much interest, curiosity, enthusiasm and hope. I promise to report on my progress in what I call revolting detail. I signed up at the Library for the book on the FastDiet which they are expecting to arrive shortly. (too frugal/cheap to buy it yet) I will force Flo or Ann to read me the juiciest parts. Then I will be more knowledgeable, should you wish to ask me any questions about it beyond my own experience. All I can say is, it sure seems to pay to keep trying new things, bizarre though they may be. Onward and upward!
What a week! I hardly know how to begin to describe it all. For one thing, I had an appointment at the Department of Motor Vehicles this week.....a very special one........not to sit down and ace the written test of silly driving rules, nor to struggle through the dreaded eye test with my one working eye, nor to grapple white knuckled with the damned, infernal driving test with an always hostile inspector diligently annotating my every minute transgressions only to finally stagger to the window where the wretched photo gets taken....the one you have to live with for the next four or five years. No, this was very different.
My drivers' license is expiring next week and I, in my infinite wisdom, decided there would be no more memorizing of the eye chart to make up for the eye that doesn't see ....no more enduring the annoyance of having to get my Retinologist to specify and authenticate the degree of my ability to see large objects and traffic signs with my "good" eye, no more putting up with the insolence of those driving inspectors just to be granted official permission to operate an automobile for the next year or two......especially when I would not have the poor judgment or the guts to get behind a wheel and endanger my own life not to mention a few others by propelling my vehicle onto a public street or highway. No, after about 70 consecutive years of having an official drivers' license, it was finally time to settle for just a DMV Identification Card. My driving days were officially over.
This is usually the moment when I have read that other people go ballistic and bonkers over the loss of their "Independence"......I say, "Bullshit". I feel nothing of the sort. I have been very content for the past few years of my failing eyesight to let my caregivers chauffeur me all over the place while I relax happily in the passenger seat just giving an occasional order or suggestion now and then. And, during those night hours and the day when I am alone and on my own I have not once wrung my hands and railed against being unable to run out to the market and pick up more Twizzlers when I have just consumed the last one in the bag and there are no more in the cupboard. Amazingly, I have found that I can placidly accept the fact that I can somehow survive for another day without them. (even though that idea would have been unthinkable a few years ago......what?...trapped in the house with no Twizzlers?......aaaarrrrrggghhh......total loss of sanity and control immediately following the realization.)
In the same way, you keep hearing about people protesting wildly the loss of their dignity when forced to don one of those funny paper gowns in a Doctor's office that always reveal a good glimpse of your fanny or what some call their private parts (what a silly term) to anyone around. Or having to suffer the awful shame of calling for a bedpan the Hospital. That is all such a load of crap. Having weird hangups about exposing ones naked body to professionals who have seen one or two of them during their careers has nothing to do with one's actual sense of dignity. Having once been so painfully shy and lacking in self esteem that I chose to slink down alleys rather than walk along the streets where I might encounter a passerby who might happen to look at me (and, I feared, silently judge me to be inadequate), I can understand someone's reluctance to expose themselves to strangers on the grounds of shyness, vulnerability due to low self worth or a mistaken ordering of priorities . But I reject the idea that it has anything to do with loss of dignity. But, to yank myself back from this meandering digression, I do not feel like I have lost my independence by surrendering my right to drive a motor vehicle. I am not confined by bars and I can still think freely, express my cockamamie thoughts freely and, if necessary, call for help to somebody on the Internet. One of you would surely respond, wouldn't you? I may be a little hampered here and there, but I am still independent, goddammit.
However, today I did feel a slight loss of independence when I had to have Ann, my caregiver, read me the questions and fill in my answers on a form demanding that I report for Jury Duty or else and, if not why not? (easy....I am, 86, pretty damned blind and also considerably disabled unless you consider schlepping around like Quasimodo to be a perfectly fine way of getting places.) Of course, I offered this very pedestrian reason rather than tell them the truth which is that I would make the world's worst juror, being dreadfully judgmental, horribly opinionated, totally in favor of capital punishment for all offenses including spitting on the floor and writing poor grammar and misspellings. I would never be selected to sit on any jury so why waste everyone's time and the governments money?
I have a taste of this particular loss of independence whenever I have to have Ann or Florence fill out a form for me in a doctor's office or find my pen when I have dropped it on the floor, or even when the Parking Lot attendant asks for 45 cents more than the $6 I have offered and I just dig out a fistful of change from my wallet and have my helper find the quarter and dimes among the stuff I am holding. That sort of thing does sometimes make me a bit cross but that irritation is immediately drowned out by gratitude that I am so lucky as to have someone who can "see" for me.
Here's a bit of Lo's wisdom on this subject.........to survive the perils of old age and still enjoy life you damn well have to get your priorities in the right order.
And now, on other fronts, I am thrilled and proud to report that I have survived the first week of the FastDiet which consisted of 5 days of eating whatever I wanted and 2 separate random days of my choice in which I consumed only 500 calories per day and all the non caloric liquids my rotund little body wanted or could hold. It has been a fascinating experience.......mind blowing and eye opening.
As I mentioned in my earlier post when I bravely committed to try this regimen, I have never had much trouble in actual fasting as long as I did not let a taste of food pass my lips. (once tasting a morsel actvates a monster who will eat YOU if you happen to be unfortunate or foolish enough to be obstructing my path to
Food. My only discomfort when fasting occurs around 5 pm when I notice an uncomfortable hollow feeling in my middle which I asssume is what people call hunger. I do not know from hunger. I only know from craving. For one thing, I noticed that time sort of stretches out when you are fasting.....you find yourself with all that time that you usually spend either eating, thinking of eating, preparing or obtaining food and then wishing you hadn't eaten all that whatever-it-was before you begin thinking about what you are going to eat tomorrow. If Einstein had gone on a fast when he was formulating his theory of Relativity this odd time situation would have blown his ideas out of the water or set him on a completely different path. Heaven only knows what he might have come up with when he discovered that time expands when you fast. (hmmm, I seem to recall in my one failed effort to understand that theory that it had something to do with time expanding when you move fast....I am now wondering if someone misinterpreted the meaning of "fast"....well, nevermind.....).
As for nourishment and food....in my mind they have no connection to each other whatsoever. However, eating out of boredom, eating for comfort, using food as a tranquilizer to assuage anxiety...oh yeah......those are all the real reasons I eat. I realize I NEVER eat for nourishment. And so it was this week that I learned lots of things about me and food and ithas been quite enlightening.
On the days following my modified fasts I found I felt very good, did not wake up ravenous or dive headlong into the frig or cupboard for some delicacy to stuff in my face. I was, as usual, not hungry since I had not yet put a morsel of food into my mouth and I actually called for my breakfast around noon after I had checked my email and several Stock Market chart services and spent several hours making sure that the stock market had not eaten all of my nest egg since the previous day. I was however, I noticed, very happy that I was looking forward to being able to eat whatever I wanted whenever I wanted it that day and I really enjoyed my toasted cinnamon bagel. Yum. I found that I craved and consumed just about what I ordinarily eat each day....perhaps even a bit less.
And, amazingly, I found this morning that I had actually lost 1 pound during this week, a fact that made me delirious with joy, since I have been unable to shed an ounce by any means for a long time, especially since my mobility is so limited and exercise as we know it is not possible.
Anyway, folks, I am now facing my fast day tomorrow and the beginning of my 2nd week with much interest, curiosity, enthusiasm and hope. I promise to report on my progress in what I call revolting detail. I signed up at the Library for the book on the FastDiet which they are expecting to arrive shortly. (too frugal/cheap to buy it yet) I will force Flo or Ann to read me the juiciest parts. Then I will be more knowledgeable, should you wish to ask me any questions about it beyond my own experience. All I can say is, it sure seems to pay to keep trying new things, bizarre though they may be. Onward and upward!
Sunday, May 19, 2013
I Must Be Out of My Fucking Mind.....or....If You Aren't Going to Eat That Crumb on Your Lip, May I Have It?
If I had a buck or even a dime for every time I have said to myself, "Lois, you must be out of your mind", I'd be as rich as Warren Buffet. But this time, I really MEAN it. I am no longer teetering on the brink of insanity.......I have fallen smack dab into it and worse yet, I am wallowing in it.
After 75 years of diets and severe food deprivation of every sort, I did swear to myself and to the world at large that, after hitting and passing the 80 mark, I was never going to deprive myself of a single morsel of anything edible that I wanted ever again..... for whatever time is left to me in this world full of infinite delicacies. Yeah, so I wake up this morning and discover that I have put myself on, of all things, a Diet. And not just a diet telling me I can't eat this or that, but a diet in which I actually Fast for 2 days out of the 7 that are usually in a week. I am not sure quite how this happened, but it seemed to be a good idea when I pondered it last night and it somehow retained its luster when I got up this morning. Utterly amazing.
Even more amazing is the fact that I had decided last night that I would fast on Sundays and Thursdays and therefore, today being Sunday, it would be foodless. (Actually, I lie..... that is not totally accurate.....these here diet gurus decreed that you can have 500 calories on your fast days...probably to placate all of those wimps who claim that, without any food they suffer headaches, dizziness, spots before the eyes and all manner of plagues. I will comment on that idea some other time but I AM allowed to eat something today. Whatever fits withing the circumference of 500 calories which, I know from vast experience, is not very damned much. But that's OK.
Being a creature who has always worshiped food as my principal Deity, I have spent a lot of my life thinking about food in all its glorious forms and I realize that I have been lying to myself for many years about our relationship.......or, if not outright lying, I have not analyzed the subject sufficiently from all angles and it might just behoove me to do so before I die......in pursuit of truth and for my own damned good, that is. I am suspecting that I eat for a bunch of very strange reasons that have nothing to do with hunger and certainly nothing to do with nourishment. Kind of like the person who smokes cigarettes in order to have something to do with their hands.
I have fasted many times in my life......the longest having been for 4 days with nothing but water. I survived very well and found that the first day was the hardest and it got easier not harder as the project progressed. That does NOT mean that I did not trample a multitude of defenceless women and children and even a burly man or two who, on day 5, were unfortunate enough to be in my way in my glassy-eyed wild gallop to get my hands (and teeth) on a bagel. That experiment was to test my theory that my body's metabolism was such that I could gain weight while ingesting nothing and by simply thinking of food. Or at least it would not surrender a molecule of fat even if I fasted and walked miles per day on the treadmill. (Turned out that I was right about the latter half of that theory....I lost not an ounce in 4 days of not eating and you would not have wanted to be around me when I found that out......dishes were smashed, cats were kicked (symbolically) and epithets were uttered and hurled hither and yon..... in spades, baby.).
But even during that experiment I noticed that my body actually enjoyed being given a day off from digesting and processing even as my mind was screaming that I was trying to kill myself and that if I did not give me a ham sandwich or reasonable facsimile immediately I would wither like a scalded seedling and expire then and there and by gum, I'd be sorry then dammit but it would be too late.
The most interesting eating/not eating fact I learned and relearned over the years but which I have never been able to employ usefully was that when I got up in the morning I was not hungry and if I did not eat anything I was still not hungry and this lasted throughout the day. It was only toward evening when I noticed the slightly hollow feeling in my middle that I felt the need to eat a little something and then, once I had a single taste of food, I became ravenous and insatiable.
Because I adore food, the textures, the flavors the aromas the mere glorious sight of it, anything lurking in the frig, the cupboards or lying on a plate not only beckons seductively to me but gets behind my rotund buttocks and shoves me rudely in its direction. The first bite is sheer heaven, but, just like booze, after the first sip courses through your body and makes you feel so good, the succeeding bites never quite match up and I find myself continuing to eat just trying to recapture that first heavenly sensation. Of course, there is also something comforting about feeling full, sated, slightly stuffed. (beyond slightly stuffed there is only agony and recriminations, blame and finger pointing and empty promises ). In fact, as dismissive as I can be about hunger during the day, I cannot fall asleep hungry and have been known, after tossing for 3 or 4 hours, to rise from my couch and go in and ferociously empty the frig, shelf by shelf into my gaping maw......well, I do exagerate, but you get the idea. In fact, I am saving most of those 500 calories for bedtime gnashing, crunchng and gobbling......or as much of that as can be done with such a pittance of fodder. Anyway, as of 7:30 pm I am still doing fine with nothing under my belt but water, a few spinach leaves and mushroom slices, black coffee and a few cups of fat free chicken bouillion.
In case you are wondering, (and I am sure that one or two of you are surely wondering) what bit me on the ass to drive me to such extremes, I was very impressed with a video I recently watched, on the study that led up to the creation of this program called the FastDiet. If you can believe a bunch of Mice, it appears that a bit of fasting can actually make you live longer.......and if you are wondering why, after groaning and griping and schlepping along "Oy-ing" for 86 years I would want to do that, I do not have an answer today. Maybe it is just so that I can keep on blogging.
Anyway, I can hardly wait to see how this all turns out. Will Lois lose 2 and 3/4 ounces? Will Lois develop a completely new attitude about food?? Will Lois give up the whole idea when the next fast day rolls around on Thursday? Will Lois fall off the wagon tomorrow ( or, more likely, tonite at approx 3 am) and devour the entire southern side of Califa Street in one orgy of binge eating? You may take bets among yourselves......frankly, I have no effing idea.
After 75 years of diets and severe food deprivation of every sort, I did swear to myself and to the world at large that, after hitting and passing the 80 mark, I was never going to deprive myself of a single morsel of anything edible that I wanted ever again..... for whatever time is left to me in this world full of infinite delicacies. Yeah, so I wake up this morning and discover that I have put myself on, of all things, a Diet. And not just a diet telling me I can't eat this or that, but a diet in which I actually Fast for 2 days out of the 7 that are usually in a week. I am not sure quite how this happened, but it seemed to be a good idea when I pondered it last night and it somehow retained its luster when I got up this morning. Utterly amazing.
Even more amazing is the fact that I had decided last night that I would fast on Sundays and Thursdays and therefore, today being Sunday, it would be foodless. (Actually, I lie..... that is not totally accurate.....these here diet gurus decreed that you can have 500 calories on your fast days...probably to placate all of those wimps who claim that, without any food they suffer headaches, dizziness, spots before the eyes and all manner of plagues. I will comment on that idea some other time but I AM allowed to eat something today. Whatever fits withing the circumference of 500 calories which, I know from vast experience, is not very damned much. But that's OK.
Being a creature who has always worshiped food as my principal Deity, I have spent a lot of my life thinking about food in all its glorious forms and I realize that I have been lying to myself for many years about our relationship.......or, if not outright lying, I have not analyzed the subject sufficiently from all angles and it might just behoove me to do so before I die......in pursuit of truth and for my own damned good, that is. I am suspecting that I eat for a bunch of very strange reasons that have nothing to do with hunger and certainly nothing to do with nourishment. Kind of like the person who smokes cigarettes in order to have something to do with their hands.
I have fasted many times in my life......the longest having been for 4 days with nothing but water. I survived very well and found that the first day was the hardest and it got easier not harder as the project progressed. That does NOT mean that I did not trample a multitude of defenceless women and children and even a burly man or two who, on day 5, were unfortunate enough to be in my way in my glassy-eyed wild gallop to get my hands (and teeth) on a bagel. That experiment was to test my theory that my body's metabolism was such that I could gain weight while ingesting nothing and by simply thinking of food. Or at least it would not surrender a molecule of fat even if I fasted and walked miles per day on the treadmill. (Turned out that I was right about the latter half of that theory....I lost not an ounce in 4 days of not eating and you would not have wanted to be around me when I found that out......dishes were smashed, cats were kicked (symbolically) and epithets were uttered and hurled hither and yon..... in spades, baby.).
But even during that experiment I noticed that my body actually enjoyed being given a day off from digesting and processing even as my mind was screaming that I was trying to kill myself and that if I did not give me a ham sandwich or reasonable facsimile immediately I would wither like a scalded seedling and expire then and there and by gum, I'd be sorry then dammit but it would be too late.
The most interesting eating/not eating fact I learned and relearned over the years but which I have never been able to employ usefully was that when I got up in the morning I was not hungry and if I did not eat anything I was still not hungry and this lasted throughout the day. It was only toward evening when I noticed the slightly hollow feeling in my middle that I felt the need to eat a little something and then, once I had a single taste of food, I became ravenous and insatiable.
Because I adore food, the textures, the flavors the aromas the mere glorious sight of it, anything lurking in the frig, the cupboards or lying on a plate not only beckons seductively to me but gets behind my rotund buttocks and shoves me rudely in its direction. The first bite is sheer heaven, but, just like booze, after the first sip courses through your body and makes you feel so good, the succeeding bites never quite match up and I find myself continuing to eat just trying to recapture that first heavenly sensation. Of course, there is also something comforting about feeling full, sated, slightly stuffed. (beyond slightly stuffed there is only agony and recriminations, blame and finger pointing and empty promises ). In fact, as dismissive as I can be about hunger during the day, I cannot fall asleep hungry and have been known, after tossing for 3 or 4 hours, to rise from my couch and go in and ferociously empty the frig, shelf by shelf into my gaping maw......well, I do exagerate, but you get the idea. In fact, I am saving most of those 500 calories for bedtime gnashing, crunchng and gobbling......or as much of that as can be done with such a pittance of fodder. Anyway, as of 7:30 pm I am still doing fine with nothing under my belt but water, a few spinach leaves and mushroom slices, black coffee and a few cups of fat free chicken bouillion.
In case you are wondering, (and I am sure that one or two of you are surely wondering) what bit me on the ass to drive me to such extremes, I was very impressed with a video I recently watched, on the study that led up to the creation of this program called the FastDiet. If you can believe a bunch of Mice, it appears that a bit of fasting can actually make you live longer.......and if you are wondering why, after groaning and griping and schlepping along "Oy-ing" for 86 years I would want to do that, I do not have an answer today. Maybe it is just so that I can keep on blogging.
Anyway, I can hardly wait to see how this all turns out. Will Lois lose 2 and 3/4 ounces? Will Lois develop a completely new attitude about food?? Will Lois give up the whole idea when the next fast day rolls around on Thursday? Will Lois fall off the wagon tomorrow ( or, more likely, tonite at approx 3 am) and devour the entire southern side of Califa Street in one orgy of binge eating? You may take bets among yourselves......frankly, I have no effing idea.
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
All I Can Say Is Beware When The Recipe Lady Calls It..... "Easy"
Here I lie in the trusty recliner, a tattered wreck, legs splayed akimbo, arms flung hither and yon, too weak to even lift said legs up onto the footstool, gasping for breath and cursing in between gasps. My fingers twitch with an urgent need to strangle someone and I know just who, but in my pitiful condition I would probably be unable to tighten my grip around that scrawny throat sufficient to do any real harm. Oh, Recipe Lady....you are getting off easy this time.......and there is that Word........Easy....ha!. Lies, all lies.
Now, let's face facts here, dear ones......I have been filling and stirring and scrubbing pots and pans for more than....well, never mind. We can just say that I've been around, ya' know. And I know when they say prep time 15 minute, cook time 25, that that means after your sous chef or flunky or scullery maid has assembled all of the ingredients in the proper order across your work surface, scrounged around in the drawers and located all of the proper tools and arranged them neatly in order of use like the surgeon's tools in the Op Room and probably already chopped all the choppables, measured all the measurables and carefully poured your glass of cooking sherry, not for the dish, but for You. Anyway.....you can't ever believe 'em about those details, but usually when they say bake for 25 minutes they more or less mean that, give or take a few on each side.
So there I was throwing together a simple looking recipe for "Vanilla Orange Monkey Bread"....oven to 350, bundt pan at the ready, couple pkgs of buttermilk biscuits quartered, shaken within an inch of their life in a baggie full of sugar and grated orange zest till delightfully coated then set aside. Throw into a saucepan two sticks of salted butter (OY) a bunch of brown sugar, some vanilla,. melt it all up, stir around just few stirs, not too many, set aside.
Fling the beautifully coated biscuit pieces into the bundt pan, pour the syrupy stuff over it all, deposit in oven, bake 25 minutes. My mouth was watering, I was licking all the utensils and all my fingers and when the bell went off at 25 mins I checked things out. Yes, the top was nicely browned, syrup seemed to be bubbling in the pan. * Cool for 10 mins before inverting pan over serving dish. OK......gotta let that sticky stuff set up a bit before de-panning, but not too long or else you will never get it out without the use of a jackhammer. Sure, been there, done that. Bell goes off in 10, I invert the pan over serving dish ** and....holy crap, I am standing ankle deep in a lake of syrup as is my whole work surface. Item on serving dish looks raw on top under the remains of the syrup. Hmmmm. time out to scrape up all the salvageable syrup into a receptacle and rethink this. (Don't be silly......I never throw away good food and I never quit without a decent struggle)
Syrup goes back into saucepan to cook for about 5 mins till it thickens......wish I had a candy thermometer since I have never been good at that "soft ball -hard ball stage" stuff. Carefully lower bundt pan over object on serving plate, invert, shake to settle hoping that the ridges and curves are all repositioned properly (don't ask), pour revised syrup over all and back into the 350 oven for ???? 10 min....12 min???....15 min???
Scrub sticky floor and work surface while waiting and fuming. Double Oy Vey.
When the well trained eyeball examines the top (really the bottom) of the subject and determines that it is sufficiently brown I remove from oven and repeat from * through **. Hmmm, well, this looks more promising.....in fact.....delicious. I cannot wait to sample this amazing looking confection. I cut a small slice, take a mouthful from near the top where the gooiest goody part is and.....spit it out......oy vey....still a mite unbaked! How could this be? Shitpissfuck.
At this point I am really annoyed and more determined than ever. I fling the object back into the bundt pan not caring whether the curves and ridges match up or not, dammit. Back into the oven it goes for how long?....10? 12? a gazillion? mins. I am flying blind here. There is absolutely is no way to determine whether the unbaked portion of the item will get baked before the syrup turns into concrete or cinders. Finally I snatch the pan from the oven at 15 mins.....let cool for 10, invert over serving plate and, " voila" what emerges is this gorgeous orangey caramely creation with only the slight imperfection of one slice having been removed, which I find can easily be concealed by pushing the open edges together while the thing is still warm. No one will ever know.
A work of art, but how does it taste? Didn't take long to find out that it was utterly divine and I had to keep slapping myself on the back of my hand and the side of the head to keep me from devouring The Whole Thing. However, I then fell into the Chair in the state described above at the very beginning, brushing sticky crumbs from my lips and sighing in exstacy and exhaustion and did not even have the strength to make the necessary corrections to the Recipe.
Needless to say, the very first correction I will make will be to that word "EASY".
(Does anyone remember Senor Wences and his adorable little dummy?.........."eeeasy for YOU....deefficult for me...")
The fate of that damned Recipe Lady is still up in the air.......I am too stuffed with Vanilla Orange Monkey Bread to do harm to anyone right now.
Now, let's face facts here, dear ones......I have been filling and stirring and scrubbing pots and pans for more than....well, never mind. We can just say that I've been around, ya' know. And I know when they say prep time 15 minute, cook time 25, that that means after your sous chef or flunky or scullery maid has assembled all of the ingredients in the proper order across your work surface, scrounged around in the drawers and located all of the proper tools and arranged them neatly in order of use like the surgeon's tools in the Op Room and probably already chopped all the choppables, measured all the measurables and carefully poured your glass of cooking sherry, not for the dish, but for You. Anyway.....you can't ever believe 'em about those details, but usually when they say bake for 25 minutes they more or less mean that, give or take a few on each side.
So there I was throwing together a simple looking recipe for "Vanilla Orange Monkey Bread"....oven to 350, bundt pan at the ready, couple pkgs of buttermilk biscuits quartered, shaken within an inch of their life in a baggie full of sugar and grated orange zest till delightfully coated then set aside. Throw into a saucepan two sticks of salted butter (OY) a bunch of brown sugar, some vanilla,. melt it all up, stir around just few stirs, not too many, set aside.
Fling the beautifully coated biscuit pieces into the bundt pan, pour the syrupy stuff over it all, deposit in oven, bake 25 minutes. My mouth was watering, I was licking all the utensils and all my fingers and when the bell went off at 25 mins I checked things out. Yes, the top was nicely browned, syrup seemed to be bubbling in the pan. * Cool for 10 mins before inverting pan over serving dish. OK......gotta let that sticky stuff set up a bit before de-panning, but not too long or else you will never get it out without the use of a jackhammer. Sure, been there, done that. Bell goes off in 10, I invert the pan over serving dish ** and....holy crap, I am standing ankle deep in a lake of syrup as is my whole work surface. Item on serving dish looks raw on top under the remains of the syrup. Hmmmm. time out to scrape up all the salvageable syrup into a receptacle and rethink this. (Don't be silly......I never throw away good food and I never quit without a decent struggle)
Syrup goes back into saucepan to cook for about 5 mins till it thickens......wish I had a candy thermometer since I have never been good at that "soft ball -hard ball stage" stuff. Carefully lower bundt pan over object on serving plate, invert, shake to settle hoping that the ridges and curves are all repositioned properly (don't ask), pour revised syrup over all and back into the 350 oven for ???? 10 min....12 min???....15 min???
Scrub sticky floor and work surface while waiting and fuming. Double Oy Vey.
When the well trained eyeball examines the top (really the bottom) of the subject and determines that it is sufficiently brown I remove from oven and repeat from * through **. Hmmm, well, this looks more promising.....in fact.....delicious. I cannot wait to sample this amazing looking confection. I cut a small slice, take a mouthful from near the top where the gooiest goody part is and.....spit it out......oy vey....still a mite unbaked! How could this be? Shitpissfuck.
At this point I am really annoyed and more determined than ever. I fling the object back into the bundt pan not caring whether the curves and ridges match up or not, dammit. Back into the oven it goes for how long?....10? 12? a gazillion? mins. I am flying blind here. There is absolutely is no way to determine whether the unbaked portion of the item will get baked before the syrup turns into concrete or cinders. Finally I snatch the pan from the oven at 15 mins.....let cool for 10, invert over serving plate and, " voila" what emerges is this gorgeous orangey caramely creation with only the slight imperfection of one slice having been removed, which I find can easily be concealed by pushing the open edges together while the thing is still warm. No one will ever know.
A work of art, but how does it taste? Didn't take long to find out that it was utterly divine and I had to keep slapping myself on the back of my hand and the side of the head to keep me from devouring The Whole Thing. However, I then fell into the Chair in the state described above at the very beginning, brushing sticky crumbs from my lips and sighing in exstacy and exhaustion and did not even have the strength to make the necessary corrections to the Recipe.
Needless to say, the very first correction I will make will be to that word "EASY".
(Does anyone remember Senor Wences and his adorable little dummy?.........."eeeasy for YOU....deefficult for me...")
The fate of that damned Recipe Lady is still up in the air.......I am too stuffed with Vanilla Orange Monkey Bread to do harm to anyone right now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
