Skip to content

Blog

Published on Leave a comment on Just Don’t Care? Deconstruct!

Once upon a time we attended an awards banquet, held at a posh seaside resort. Having been to many catered banquets in my time, I had girded my loins for the dreaded rubber chicken dinner. A small part of me was hopeful, since we were in one of America's greatest food cities. Alas, 'twas not to be, cherie.

I am not a foodie exactly, other than I sure do like to eat. So I am not sure but I think they were going for Nouvelle Cuisine? You know, the fancy French stuff that is long on presentation and short on, well, food? At our table, everyone's plate for the salad course was identical, down to the number of carrot shavings (not pieces, not slices) and cherry tomato halves. I envisioned a crisply uniformed Food Nazi

Beware the rubber chicken

standing at the kitchen entrance, complete with one of those drop-down barriers they use at toll booths and railroad crossings. No plate shall pass unless it contained the precisely calculated and arranged accoutrements of saladry (and yes, I just made that word up - 'saladry', not 'accoutrements').  Perhaps neatly labeled Tupperware containers sat lined up nearby, ready to receive any excess items the Food Nazi was fully authorized to pluck off the plate with his plastic-gloved fingers (which would of course be recycled onto any plates found wanting).

Our table was a combination of strangers and work acquaintances, not exactly the Fellowship of the Ring. So we kept our salad snarks to ourselves, cleaned our plates in record time, and held out hope for the next course. It's only a salad, after all. Our expectations were low.  Next up: the entree.

The facility had graciously provided each attendee with a menu so that we knew what to look forward to with each course. The entree was promised as some kind of pork, with sweet potatoes, asparagus, and portabello mushrooms. Heck yeah! That's what I'm talking about! I don't like salad, anyway.

I will say the caterers must have felt some guilt about the stingy salad course because the pork item they served next was plenty big. I think it was a chop or a loin; not being particularly interested in animal flesh, I am not sure. It had a bone sticking out of it, if that is any help. I think I was the only one at my table who was satisfied with the quality. I like my animal flesh cooked in such a way that I am able to forget, however briefly, that I am indeed eating animal flesh. No juices running, no pink middle, and forget about it mooing or oinking. The thing on my plate was suitably disguised, putting me more in mind of the time I tried to make cornbread with water because I was out of milk: crumbly, chalky, set up quickly - excellent for concrete patch. Imagine my surprise to find my carnivorous table mates somewhat less satisfied. Go figure.

As for the promised side veg, yes there were potatoes-a-plenty. I think they used one of the settings on their blender that I am afraid to use at home - frappe, maybe? and used them a creamy but very un-potatolike underlayment to the pork. I did spot two pinkie knuckle-sized pieces of asparagus on my plate, but there was very little 'spear' to them - they looked more like dark green cigarette butts.

After the plates were cleared, I remembered we had been promised portabello mushrooms with that course. I am no mushroom expert, but those Frisbee-size babies are hard to overlook. When I asked the lady across from me if she had mushrooms served with her plate, she said 'yes, those three little black cubes were the mushrooms'. I did in fact recall three black squarish items on my plate, but I thought it was grated black pepper.

Well, at least we had the dessert to look forward to. The menu promised us cheesecake. Yay! It had been ages since I had any real cheesecake. I had a fond flashback of a piece of plain New York style cheesecake I had been served at a chain restaurant when we lived in Minnesota. It was beastly huge, like one of those ridiculously large portions where you get a free t-shirt if you finish it. Even if there had been a shirt offered, I would not have received one. It was one of the few times in my life I was unable to finish a dessert by myself. Let's just say it exceeded expectations. And also add that I love cheesecake (except blueberry cheesecake due to an unpleasant gastronomic memory from a long-ago summer vacation road trip).

Deconstructed cheesecake. When you don't care enough to put out any effort whatsoever.

So here comes our dessert course, and this is what they bring us. This is not a picture of my actual plate, but close enough that you get the idea. Loose graham cracker crumbs - check. Squirt of whitish substance excreted over top of crumbs -  check. Our plates were missing whatever that orangey-yellow thing is in this picture, and we had exactly four frozen blueberries (blueberries! why did it have to be blueberries??!!) lined up to one side of the white stuff, but other than that, same deal. The whitish substance turned out to be the 'cheesecake'.  At about this time my brain kicks into gear and dredges up the word 'deconstructed' from the menu. Ah. I was hoping that meant it was some fancy new flavor like Key Lime or pomegranate. But no, they meant it literally.

Of course we all cleaned our deconstructed plates. Didn't take long.

After chatting with some friends afterward and doing a little Googling, I guess this deconstructed food fad is a thing. Does this mean I am way ahead of the curve on this one every time I have a 'deconstructed' peanut butter sandwich by standing over the sink and eating the peanut butter straight out of the jar? I understand restaurants wanting to appear on the leading edge and offering the peeps what they want, no matter how weird, on the off chance that it will catch on (sushi, anyone?). But this deconstructed thing is a food manager's dream. You mean I can use half the ingredients, put out half the effort, and people will think they're getting something fancy? Love it! 

Constructed cheesecake. Which would you rather have? Me, too.

What's next, a deconstructed hamburger - a quarter pound of ground beef served still in the plastic wrap with a package of hamburger buns? How about some deconstructed spaghetti: a bale of hay and a couple tomatoes?

I am definitely not a food expert. But I am an expert on cheap, so let me give all of you food managers out there a heads-up: by serving me anything 'deconstructed', you look cheap. And not in a 'hey, what a value!', Good Way cheap. More of a 'jeez what a waste of money', Bad Way cheap. People will pay to have their cheesecake constructed properly. If you don't believe me, just compare the two pictures of cheesecake I have provided. Which one would YOU rather eat?

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this post, I hope you'll take a minute and subscribe to my email list.

2

Published on 2 Comments on Zippity Zoo Dah

This post was originally published in 2014.

We have a pretty cool zoo in our town. They recently added a zip line course. So when my daughter and her husband visited, we decided to check it out.

If you are not familiar with a zip line, let me lay it out for you. Think of it as a mash-up of a clothes line and Tarzan's swinging vine network (if you don't know what a clothes line is, you are too young to be reading this blog). Or maybe envision a gondola ride with only one passenger (you) and no gondola car, just you sliding down the gondola cable at about 40 mph via fancy harness and cable hook.

Zip lines have been around for ages as a quick and easy way to transport goods and people across obstacles such as ravines and rivers that would not be easily passable otherwise. Zip lines as recreation emerged in the 1990s as lines originally used by scientists in the Costa Rican rain forest evolved into lucrative tourist attractions. The first zip line in the U.S. opened in Hawaii in 2002. The idea really took off 😉 Presently there are hundreds of zip line courses around the world.

We had a great time on the zip lines. If you are considering trying it, here are a few handy tips:

The Bridge Of Doom

Find out what is involved. I vaguely knew what a zip line was. I assumed it would be fairly tame. You know what they say about people who assume.

Evaluate your priorities. I was torn about whether to take my most prized possession on the zip with me. I am talking about my phone, of course. I ended up taking it, but there were some moments during the zip where I was more terrified about what might happen to my phone than anything that might happen to me since it is at a zoo; unlike, say, at a combination bungee-jumping/parachuting/cave diving facility.

I did not plan on having to climb a rope ladder to get up to the first platform. I did not anticipate navigating a rickety bridge between zip landing stations. And I certainly was not prepared for the worst horror of all, being weighed before being allowed to participate (there is a weight limit). This was in public, people. In broad daylight. Fully clothed - including shoes! They sure don't put that in the brochure. Otherwise no woman would ever do it, guaranteed.

Dress accordingly. Don't wear anything that you would miss if you lost it. Don't wear anything that might cut off circulation once you are strapped into your harness. Don't wear anything you might ruin by soiling yourself when you realize you have to walk across thirty yards of rope bridge, fifty feet off the ground.

Choose your fellow zippers wisely. Our guide said she had seen zip liners as young as 6 and as old as 80. After we zipped and were wandering around enjoying the zoo, everyone I passed, I imagined up on the zip line with me. Believe me, there were many I was thankful had chosen not to zip that day. Not sure which would be worse, the precocious 9-year-old twins who love fidgeting with the carabiners; or the white-haired thrillseekers from the local assisted living facility.

The ideal fellow zip liner: folks like my daughter and her husband. Young, healthy, fit adults weighing well under 200 lbs each, with an expert working knowledge of camera phones.  This last came in handy when I was trying to video my husband zipping toward me, but on account of my very short leash, my attempts to literally hug the tree I was leashed to 50 feet off the ground, and my hands shaking from adrenaline rush, I pushed who knows what button on my phone and all kinds of craziness ensued on the screen. Thanks again to my son-in-law, who pushed a couple buttons and got the thing back under control.

Bottom line, two thumbs up for enjoying reputable zip lines in your area. The views, exhilaration, and camaraderie were almost worth the agony of being weighed in public. Almost.

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this post, I hope you'll take a minute and subscribe to my email list.

Published on Leave a comment on Think Fast Or Go Hungry

As a self-described Lazy Cook, I freely admit when I am looking at a recipe, the first thing my brain looks for is not how delicious or what ingredients or how much it feeds or wine pairings. No, it is already wondering what shortcuts can be made to make it easier or faster to cook. This is why I don't have a show on a cooking channel. This is also why I don't waste a lot of time in the kitchen unless I am cleaning or eating. Cooking = no time wasted here.

Take this recipe, for example. I am in the process of organizing 20 years' worth of recipe detritus. The process is simple. I make the recipe. If it is good, I keep it. If it is not, I toss it. In tennis tournament parlance, single elimination. No consolation round. If it is my fault the dish is bad, too bad. Any recipe I keep better be bullet proof! No Julia Child Fancy French Cooking in my house!

So, back to the recipe. This one floats to the top of the rotation and it looks easy enough. I plan on having it for dinner the other night but as usual have not a) paid attention to detail, or b) planned for said details prior to preparing dinner at around 6pm. So when I see 'bake potatoes for one hour' the usual Oh Crap, Go To Plan B kicks in.

This was an easy fix thanks to microwave technology.

My Hero: Dr. Percy Spencer Inventor of Microwave Oven

Sweet Mother of Pearl, seriously, what would we do without the microwave??? 10 minutes nuking and three big potatoes (of course I did not plan correctly and only had three) were just right, turned out fine. Another minor adjustment: I was also out of sour cream but scrounged around in the fridge and came up with a container of spreadable cream cheese. In it went. Also had no green onions. Left them out. No problem! Are you starting to see why I don't have a show on a cooking channel?

This baby is rich and creamy - just look at all that butter, flour, potato, sour cream (or in my case, cream cheese), cheese. At least there's a sprinkling of bacon in there for the protein portion of our show. It's a miracle I even made this for myself, because Carbs Are The Devil. But it was easy and delicious. Be sure to use a big pan like a Dutch oven - it makes a lot. Final word of warning here: if you are on a low-carb diet, No Soup For You! 

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this post, I hope you'll take a minute to subscribe to my blog (the subscribe box is near the top of the right sidebar).

4

Published on 4 Comments on February Has A Little Something For Everyone
Februarius panel from mosaic calendar, Roman Africa (Tunisia)

Ah, February - one of my favorite months for many reasons. It's my birthday month. It's my mom's, my former dog's (may she RIP), two cousins, and my paternal grandmother's as well. It's Super Bowl time, and Groundhog Day, and Mardi Gras. And of course Valentine's Day which happens to be my wedding anniversary (yeah, my husband's wallet gets slammed in February). It signals the end of winter (I live in the South) which in and of itself is a reason to celebrate. History nerds rejoice - February is Black History Month which I have blogged about previously, and also features a three day weekend thanks to the fairly recent national holiday known most places as Presidents' Day.

I say most places, as according to the federal government, it is still known as Washington's Birthday, even though his actual birthday is on February 22 and 'his' holiday has been celebrated a week early for more than 40 years. Why the change? Back in the 1960s, legislators (likely with help from labor union lobbyists) decided to shift certain holidays away from specific dates, in favor of moving them to a specific Monday. This created a nice three day weekend that would fall on the same day (not date) each year to make it easier to plan vacations. Retailers loved the idea - an extra day off to shop! And once the holiday was no longer tied to February 22, it could be expanded to include other notable leaders whose birthdays fell in February - like Abraham Lincoln (Feb 12). Indeed, the holiday is now meant to honor all presidents, not just the February babies.

True history nerds may want to take issue with my statement that Washington's 'actual' birthday is on Feb. 22. You got me! Washington was 'actually' born on February 11, 1731. But when the British empire converted from the Julian to the Gregorian calendar in September of 1752, his birth date got bumped to Feb 22 due to the 11 day adjustment. If you are a little math-challenged like me, you may be wondering why he didn't just keep his birthday on Feb 11. But if he did that, he would always be 11 days off from his true solar age. That would bug me almost as much as having to switch birth dates. Washington was not exactly an early adopter, but had switched to celebrating on Feb. 22 before he died in 1799. I envision an elderly Washington doddering around Mt. Vernon every February, asking Martha, 'is it today?'.

The Gregorian calendar - get out your cheaters

There was some initial resistance to using Washington's birthday as an excuse to take the day off and tie one on. Thomas Jefferson, of all people, thought celebrating an individual's birthday was uncomfortably close to the British custom of feting King George on his special day. Jefferson's suggestion to substitute the birth of our nation on July 4 was warmly received. But it wasn't long before Washington's birthday was back on the holiday calendar. Parades, elegant 'Birthnight' (not birthday) balls, and cannon fire marked the February occasion throughout the new country.

This weekend the tradition continues. Folks somewhere are standing on a downtown sidewalk six deep in the bitter cold, waving cheap but cheerful flags at the passing high school marching band. However, I'm guessing even more folks will be waving debit cards at newly lowered prices on holiday clearance items in the comfort of their centrally heated local mall. Whether you prefer celebrating your day off with patriotism or conspicuous consumption, you have that guy on our money to thank.

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed reading this, I hope you'll take a minute to subscribe to my newsletter.

Published on Leave a comment on And The Winner Is: MailChimp

A few posts ago I mentioned one of the things I was slowly coming around to (against my better judgment) was reverting to email as a communications tool. I prefer social media, but the numbers don't lie - more interaction occurs from email than just about any other online tool, even Facebook.

I am of an age that email is a faithful companion. I don't mind going back to it if it means improving communications. I'm on the fence about it mainly because I don't like having an overstuffed inbox myself and am constantly looking for ways to cut down on receiving them. Whenever I see advice urging us to use email more as part of our branding/marketing, I want to say, 'Didn't you get the email? People HATE email!' Maybe I'm in the minority, so I'm willing to keep an open mind.

The two email managers I tried out were FlashIssue and MailChimp. I chose them mainly because they offer free versions. In addition, I wanted to spruce up the weekly email into a more professional-looking newsletter.

Please note:  features may have changed between the time I tried these products and the publication of this post.

FlashIssue
FlashIssue is an app that works within my Gmail program. Once installed, it appears as one of the mail folders. When you want to send a group email, you just click on the FlashIssue folder. A screen within Gmail opens with all the gadgets you need to create or replicate a quality newsletter.

FlashIssue has several templates to get the process started. You can move bits around, play with fonts, add photos, and so forth. I also really like the feature of clipping articles as you browse the Internet, then saving them for plugging them into a future newsletter. Once plugged in, you get a nice-looking preview of the linked article including a photo if the article has one. FlashIssue also makes it easy to create and manage email lists, including hints on how to avoid spam filters. And of course you can schedule emails in advance.

However. A couple of weeks into using and enjoying FlashIssue, I got the dreaded warning that my free period was up and it was time to start paying for the service. That means it's time to start looking for another program!

MailChimp
MailChimp is a standalone program. It had more of a learning curve. I had to import or input my contacts. There are more templates to choose from. They also offer a scheduling feature in the free version. Unfortunately it doesn't have the cool web clipping feature, or if it does, I haven't discovered it yet - it may be offered in a paid version. However, it does have some amazing analytics. I know when someone opens their weekly email. I know when they unsubscribe. I  know exactly what percentage gets opened each week (around 50%). I know when emails bounce. I know when I have entered a duplicate contact. It is really quite amazing considering I have the free version.

Both programs create a much more polished newsletter than my amateurish emails. And I like using a program that helps me stay out of the spam filters. If FlashIssue had a truly free version, I would probably still be using it. But MailChimp just feels more solid and reliable, so I am glad I was motivated to look beyond FlashIssue. Plus, I love the little Rock On! graphic whenever I schedule a newsletter. It's the little things.

Now that I have the means to create some regular emails, on to generating the content that will attract subscribers. Who wants to be first?

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this post, I hope you'll take a minute and subscribe to my email list.

2

Published on 2 Comments on Snuggle Up And Think Of Spring

This post originally appeared in January 2014. I'm thankful to report we dodged the more recent Polar Vortex. No precip here; lows overnight in the 30s - ABOVE zero. I've hated watching the news of all the weather in the Midwest. Stay warm! Higher temps due any time now!

It's cold here, and getting colder by the minute. Much of the country got hammered by Mother Nature this week. We are far enough south that we won't get any white stuff this go-round, thank goodness. But it's plenty cold enough, into the teens over night. That would be above zero, also thank goodness. My former neighbors in Minnesota have good reason to make that distinction.

As a Native Texan, I have zero cold weather defense mechanisms. My survival skills are designed for hot weather: mainly seeking shade and sweating. I can sweat like a horse. But when cold weather rolls in, I'm helpless as a reality show actor without a script. I have some body fat, but it doesn't help much. I am middle-aged, but there's never a hot flash around when you need one.

Some people say southerners are 'thin-skinned', or that we're 'cold-natured'. One of my Yankee in-laws prefers the less accurate but more insulting 'cold-blooded', like lizards. It doesn't help that we refute her snarks from the nearest sunny window, eyes closed, faces tracking the sun's path, basking like, well,  lizards. 
During my husband's career, we spent eight years living in Minnesota.  You do not mess with the cold in Minnesota. School children are taught how to create survival kits for the car in case you are stranded during a snowstorm (candles, matches, flashlight, batteries, Sterno, water, blankets, breakfast bars). Fire hydrants come equipped with what looks like recycled CB antennae to make them easier to find when there's five feet of PSC* from December to March. The lakes freeze so hard, they can easily support large tent cities of ice fishermen/women, vehicles included. I once got an ice cream headache while walking from my car into the grocery store. It was 4 degrees at the time. There was no ice cream involved.

Beautiful place, Minnesota, but I could never get used to the cold. When the

This is how Minnesotans walk on water.

opportunity arose to move to a warmer climate, we took it. Now we're back in a climate where the chances of snow are about equal to the chances of the Cowboys winning another Superbowl - possible, but unlikely. Fire hydrants are antenna-less, as nature intended. The closest thing to a survival kit in my car is lip balm and a cell phone charger. So we will ride out this temporary meterological unpleasantness. The fire is roaring in the fireplace. I have on my favorite flannel jammy pants.  As I learned from my time in Minnesota, whenever the temp is above zero and in double digits, life is good.

*Permanent Snow Cover - the stuff that is not going to melt until spring.

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this post, I hope you'll take a minute and subscribe to my email list.

2

Published on 2 Comments on Resolve To Give Props

Flogging this resolution thing until the momentum runs out, estimating in about four more days . . .

A while back, I blogged about bad customer service and revenge fantasies. In the interest of thinking positive for 2019, let's turn that on its head and discuss instances of individuals and businesses CBG (Caught Being Good). Taking a page from elementary school teachers, when someone does something great, resolve this year to give props. Let no good service go un-noticed!

This topic is on my mind because recently when we got home, there was a mysterious package on the porch. Dontcha love when that happens??  I could not figure out what it could be until my hubs reminded me about the pickles.

Recently I tweeted about some amazing pickles I found at a local health food shop, how hot they were, and another company that cranks out some pretty hot stuff.

Both companies are on top of their social networking and responded to my tweet right away. The pickle guy took it to the next level and offered to send me a sampler of some of their other offerings. It would have been rude of me to refuse! And today, here they were on my front porch, expertly packed so that they arrived in great condition and even perfectly chilled thanks to Mother Nature's recent hijinx. Raise your hand if you think I will be patronizing (in a good way) this company in future. For an investment of about $10, this guy just made a lifelong loyal fan who is going to promote the heck out of him and his products. For free. Smart business move! Even better news: the pickles are Out Freakin Standing.

It is indeed a sad state of affairs when I had to really dig and ponder to come up with additional examples of outstanding customer service that did not occur before most of you were born. I fear we will soon need to file that skill under 'Lost Arts' along with driving a stick shift and operating a rotary phone. But I do have a couple:

  • It pains me to say this on account of some of their corporate policies, but Props to Hobby Lobby, the DIY craft store. Recently, filled with the worst combination of hubris and cheapskatery, I presumed to cut a double mat for a picture. I had a yardstick and an Exacto - how hard can it be? Folks, I am here to tell you: possession of a yardstick and an Exacto does not guarantee a quality mat will be the end product - quite the opposite. After a half-hearted attempt with a disastrous result, I admitted defeat and took the picture back to Hobby Lobby along with the remains of the mat boards that I had not mangled beyond recognition. The very kind, understanding staff person took pity on me. She not only took my mat board scraps in trade; she only charged me for the cutting service, and cut the mats while I waited. Ba Da Boom, Ba Da Bing, I was in and out of there in 10 minutes and under $10 for a 20 x 30 finished product. If you have had anything framed lately, you know this is a screamin' deal. Usually it's the kind of purchase you sneak home in the trunk of the car and wait until the hubs is gone to smuggle it into the house. I tweeted my props and am now a more-or-less loyal fan. I guess.
  • Anyone who has visited one of the Disney properties has experience with their superior customer service. They pride themselves on setting the bar high for their employees. The parks are clean. The employees are pleasant and presentable. There is a refreshing absence of sullen, slovenly, tattooed/pierced misfits ignoring you while they thumb their cell phones during their smoke breaks. I think of Disney often when I am submitting myself to customer service abominations elsewhere in the consumer world, standing in a line steaming while the knuckleheads behind the counter answer random phone calls and practice avoiding eye contact, feeling no pressure whatsoever to deal with the living, breathing, cash-carrying customer in front of them. Oh-so-tempted to stray into the many examples of poor customer service that come to mind (Great Clips! Cost Cutters! Maybe I should stop going to cut-rate hair salons! See what I did there!) but in the interest of giving props, I will not be that blogger. Today.

Think of good customer service as an endangered species. Give props and help preserve this valuable skill. With our love and recognition and props, we may be able to save it from extinction.

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this post, I hope you'll take a minute and subscribe to my email list.

Published on Leave a comment on Are You Trying? Or Doing?

When I first dipped a toe into the social media pool, I chose what I thought was a clever moniker for my brand: 'trying2write'. Now of course at that time, I had no idea what a brand was. I was more focused on how clever I seemed by wordsmithing that puppy like a boss.

Most of my writer friends were beginners like me. Finding the time to write was something we constantly fretted over. I was pretty proud of myself for grabbing that handle first. In hindsight, it now appears to be a self-fulfilling defeatist prophecy. As Master Yoda says:

However, being a Glass Half Full kinda gal, I don't view trying as failure. To me, trying is doing. Lack of trying is failure.

I suspect that for many of us, 'trying' is a euphemism for 'thinking about [fill in your unfulfilled goal here - in my case, writing] while procrastinating and doing just about anything else including scrubbing the bathroom grout with baking soda and a toothpick to avoid actually [writing]'. So the ugly truth is this: I am not further along in my writing process because I am decidedly NOT trying.

For someone (me) who professes to enjoy all aspects of writing - the solitude, the goal-setting, planning, plotting, brainstorming, organizing, publishing, marketing, networking, promoting, payday, and oh yes, THE ACTUAL WRITING  -  I certainly don't set aside much time for this thing I supposedly prize so highly. And I don't even have the formidable obstacles many aspiring writers have to overcome. I don't work a full time job. I don't have young kids to carpool. So what's the issue? The issue is the Not Doing. If I put as much time into my actual unfinished manuscripts (7 at last count) that I do into all the other stuff I just listed, they would be finished by now.

I've since changed most of my social media accounts from the clever to the practical - most of them are now some version of my name. Pro tip: at around the same time I did this, I deleted the word 'aspiring' from all of my author profiles.

So as much as I would love to continue blogging and surfing and tweeting, I need to unplug and devote the precious next two hours I have available today to working on an important scene in the middle build of my current WIP.  If you need me, I'll be trying2write.

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this post, I hope you'll take a minute and subscribe to my email list.

3

Published on 3 Comments on Dreary Days And Icy Nights

Is that dreary, or what?

Today is an overcast, dreary January day in South Carolina. I am sitting here in front of the computer screen, wondering if/when the predicted big winter storm is going to hit. We have made it through to mid-afternoon unscathed. I am hoping the precip holds off until the temperatures dip a little more, and we can skip the ice fest and just deal with the snow. If there's one thing I hate worse than cold weather, it's cold weather paired with a power outage.

It's been a rough winter for many in other parts of the country this year, and we are only halfway through it. Cold weather always has me pining for warmth and sunshine and summer. Some of my fondest memories are of sitting near a body of water in a comfy lounge chair, soaking up the sun on one of those perfect days between spring and summer. You know the day I mean. It's not too hot or humid, not a cloud in the sky, temp about 74 degrees F. Growing up in Texas, I've had this day happen in January a time or two. Definitely won't be happening today.

Whenever the warm weather finally arrives, we should all be thankful for it. It certainly is not guaranteed. Nearly two hundred years ago, much of the northern hemisphere experienced a phenomenon known as 'The Year Without Summer'. New England experienced both the latest recorded frosts (June) and the earliest (August). Daytime highs and lows were well below average everywhere records were kept. The unfortunate congruence of unseasonable lows with planting season spelled disaster. This was long before we developed a national transportation infrastructure, so if local food sources went kaput, you went hungry.

It was nearly 100 years before science and technology caught up enough to render an opinion on what may have caused 1816 to be such a cold year. Scientists determined it was a series of volcanic events, culminating with the eruption of Mount Tambora in 1815.

Mt. Tambora behaving itself.

Before today, if you had said 'Tambora' to me, I would have thought you were talking about a drummer in a rock band. But no. Mount Tambora is a volcano in Indonesia. Its eruption was many times bigger than that of Mount St. Helens in 1980. Tambora was also bigger than its more famous Indonesian cousin, Krakatoa (1883). Tambora dumped so much stuff into the atmosphere, the stuff screened some of our sunlight and had a cooling effect. Weather patterns worldwide were impacted for three years afterward. Famine, floods, disease, and riots swept throughout Europe and Asia as a result.

Here in the U.S., the crop failures of 1816 pressured many to leave the northeast, hoping for better growing conditions and milder weather. The Year Without Summer may have been the final impetus needed to head west and see what opportunities lay there.

As soon as I stepped outside to document today's dreariness and wrap up this post, a raindrop hit me in the eyeball. At least it was still rain - but for how long? Is it too late to request a Year Without Winter?

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this post, I hope you'll take a minute and subscribe to my email list.

2

Published on 2 Comments on Avoid The Grocery Store And Sin No More
I can honestly say there is absolutely nothing stimulating about this

Recently I stumbled across an entertaining article about the history of snack foods (this is what happens when one of your Google Alert search terms is 'history' - NERD!). Of the five foods featured, three were the result of tinkering with various recipes to make them less sexually stimulating. Yes, that's right: deliberately creating food that had no taste or appeal was a thing. It was thought by some that all types of pleasure were somehow linked. If you got too much enjoyment out of, say, a cracker, all that joy would get you thinking about other ways to keep the joy flowing, and the next thing you know, someone's knickers would be around their ankles. Graham crackers, hot cocoa, and corn flakes formulas were developed specifically to avoid creating snacks that would overstimulate us into raging hordes of pillaging Vandals. In the case of corn flakes, man, did they do the job right!

His resemblance to Joe Camel can't be a coincidence. Eating junk is the new smoking.

Which got me thinking 1) what a bunch of Debbie Downers these early food inventors were; 2) how far the food industry has swung the other direction; and 3) how closely related our eating habits are to other bodily functions linked to survival of the race.

I can see how those early food developers would assume a link between yummy-ness and naughty-ness.  We've all heard particularly delectable dishes described as 'better than sex'. There's even a cake recipe with that name, but trust me - it does not live up to its moniker (although I will admit perhaps my suspect cooking skills were to blame for that). I think their fears were misplaced. My theory is that rather than stimulate more bedroom shenanigans, truly yummy foods are more likely to replace them. I'm no scientist, but I am pretty sure after a certain age, the hunger urge is the most powerful of them all. Ask a middle-aged woman what she would rather have on any special occasion (not just Valentine's Day): chocolate truffles or sex? You already know the answer.

Today, unappealing, bland foods are in the minority. It's hard to imagine anyone in the food business deliberately developing products you have to force yourself to eat - 'better back off on the salt content, Dr. Jones - we don't want to make those crackers too good!'.  

There are a few foods that still manage to sell despite a complete lack of appeal, sexual or otherwise . Oatmeal, for example. I can choke it down for health reasons, but by the time I load it up with brown sugar and raisins so I can choke it down, it isn't all that healthy.  But the majority of food is all about stimulation and attraction and addiction now. Walk down any aisle in the grocery store, and I guarantee you, a little voice in your head will scream 'avoid temptation!' at least three times. Per. Aisle.

Generating fresh how-to tips on avoiding the grocery Sirens has become a cottage industry: Shop only on the perimeter of the store! Avoid the end caps! Look only at the highest and lowest shelves - never in the middle! I am surprised no one has suggested strapping your arms to the grocery cart yet. Maybe a blindfold would be better. I can't be the only one who consciously averts my gaze when I roll by the Krispy Kreme display. A single glance at that sugary temptress with the scandalous peek-a-boo packaging is enough to send my consumption urges into overdrive.

His resemblance to Joe Camel can't be a coincidence. Eating junk is the new smoking.  

The food industry is way out in front on this. Alluring packaging is just the tip of the iceberg. Megacorporations spend billions of dollars on fancy laboratories fully stocked with exceptionally intelligent Ph.D.s. They could be off somewhere developing an affordable and green alternative to fossil fuel. Instead, they are spending their days figuring out the correct mouth feel/salt content/crunch density for the next variety of Cheetos. The Frito-Lay display on the grocery aisle end cap serves exactly the same purpose as that shady character standing on the corner in the sketchy part of town, tempting you with junk you will enjoy momentarily, but that is absolutely no good for you, packaged in carefully calculated serving sizes, priced to sell and guaranteed to keep you coming back for more.

All this talk of eating and sinning has done its job. I'm off to the pantry for a midnight prowl. There better be something salty/crunchy in there. I will settle for something sweet. Oatmeal, no worries - you are safe tonight.

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this post, I hope you'll take a minute to subscribe to my blog (the subscribe box is near the top of the right sidebar).