Wednesday, January 15, 2020

How Long Will They Stay, or, If It Doesn't Bring You Joy, Set It Free

Over the last few years there have been a bunch of articles.

Actually quite a few articles, so I'll be lazy and not look for them.

One after another says that when the Boomer goes into the Home, the Millennial doesn't want "It".

"It" being "Brown Furniture".  It's also the Great Generation's China that the Boomer inherited as well as a long list of things that they can't be bothered with.

I've come to realize that those Millennials are making a whole lot of sense.

You see, last weekend we went to Ikea. You know the place?  Giant box of a store filled with right-sized food, furniture that you build yourself, and everything is named by throwing a dart at a Swedish Telephone Book?  I am rather fond of Ikea, and the clean lines on the furniture and the names and the possibility of getting some of those awesome cookies at the end is all part of the fun.

Besides being given a Poang Rocking Chair that I am enjoying very much, we got a China Cabinet.  I've been trained to call them a Tallboy, but that could just be my own warped version of English so pay me never mind.

It took all weekend to get the mother-lode of boxes into the house, opened, proofread, and then assembled.  The tallboy is taller than I am so it is truly tall.

To get this beast of a piece of white furniture where it is needed, we had to clear out the old cabinet of its glassware.

Now, Husvik the Tallboy, and Poang the Rocker live in my dining room.

This was where I realized the wisdom of the Millennial.

I was confronted with my glassware from when I was in my first apartment.  Some glasses leftover from when I was a child.  Some more glasses that I pulled out of the landscaping over the years.

Rather a lot of glassware.  In fact so much so that we began to pile it and all the Onesie-Twosie oddball glasses into a low box.

After considering how to get rid of all that strange one off and two off drink-ware, I merely moved the box out to the front of the property.

After all, how much of this stuff can you use at any given moment?   We have never had an actual party in this house, despite knowing that it was the party house on the block before my boring self moved in.

Swimming pool and Dry Bar not withstanding.

So how did it go?  The box is still out in front of the house.  I'm going to keep putting it out in the morning, and picking it up at night until it is gone or the next trash day happens.

Stay tuned, Fellow Babies, Stay tuned!

So I waited.  The box went out there at 8 in the morning.  Mind you, I live on a street with a fair amount of foot traffic.  People walk from apartments and day rentals to the Shops and Restaurants here all day long.

Lunch came. 

Box Stayed.

Mid afternoon crash happened.  Not too happy about that Nod-Off but blood sugar and high metabolism will do that to an athlete.

Box stayed.

Dinner hour hit.  I walked Rack the McNab SuperDog (TM).

Came home and the box was still there.

I stood up to close the blinds and was told that I should just close the blinds and ignore it.  We just don't want a box of potential missiles to reside on the driveway over night.

It turns out that in the first half hour of night, someone came by and moved my weird mismatched glasses on to their new home.

No more Crown Royal Old Fashioned Glasses.
No more Highball Glasses.
Gone is the cut glass goblet (singular, all the rest suffered deceleration trauma over the years). 
Even the "extra" glass that came from a Bag Of Crap that once blinked from LEDs in the bottom of it.

Goodnight Glasses, er Moon!

Bye Bye!  With my blessings. 

Now if I can just get rid of those plastic tubs of weird stuff in the back room... Hmmm.  Maybe a handful a day... I wonder if I can get away with that?

Sunday, January 12, 2020

What did the green grape say to the purple grape? BREATHE!

With the usual weekend dementia, here's a story about a talking dog.  Personally, I think all dogs talk, I'm just not sure all people listen.



A guy sees a sign in front of a house that says “Talking Dog for Sale.” He rings the bell and the owner tells him the dog is in the backyard. The guy goes into the backyard and sees a black mutt just sitting there.

“You talk?” he asks.

“Yep,” the mutt replies.

“So, what’s your story?”

The mutt looks up and says: “Well, I discovered my gift of talking pretty young and I wanted to help the government, so I told the CIA about my gift, and in no time they had me jetting from country to country, sitting in rooms with spies and world leaders, because no one figured a dog would be eavesdropping. I was one of their most valuable spies eight years running.

“The jetting around really tired me out, and I knew I wasn’t getting any younger and I wanted to settle down. So I signed up for a job at the airport to do some undercover security work, mostly wandering near suspicious characters and listening in. I uncovered some incredible dealings there and was awarded a batch of medals. Had a wife, a mess of puppies, and now I’m just retired.”

The guy is amazed. He goes back in and asks the owner what he wants for the dog.

The owner says: “Ten dollars.”

The guy says: “This dog is amazing. Why on earth are you selling him, so cheap?”

The owner replies: “He’s just a big liar. He didn’t do any of that stuff.”

Saturday, January 11, 2020

What keeps the ocean from leaking out? The seals.

How about a couple of "Dad Jokes" that are suitable for all audiences?



A broccoli, a tomato, and a yam were running in a race.

The broccoli got off to a great start, but being a green runner, he didn’t have enough stamina to finish the race. The yam and the tomato were neck and neck for the first mile, but the tomato fell behind. The yam was about to reach the end of the race when he collapsed from exhaustion right in front of the finish line. Over the course of the next hour, the tomato ran the entire length of the race, and won.

Why was the tomato so successful?

The tomato paste himself.


---- Now, I am embarrassed that I like this one so much.  I remember telling it to my nephew when he was a small child and he was laughing about it all weekend!  ----



Mamma gets Tommy a turtle for his birthday . . .

3 days later she checks it and sees it's covered with nasty bloody scabs all over the bottom. So she takes it back for an exchange.

2 days later she sees this one also has the same wounds on it's belly.

She marches back to the pet store with Tommy on tow and yells at the manager that she wants a good healthy turtle this time. The manager is baffled, none of the other customers have had this issue. So he hands her the best turtle he has.

Tommy picks it up and gets on his knees, takes the turtle and swipes in on the floor yelling VRROOM! VROOM!

Wednesday, January 8, 2020

Cinnamon Brown Sugar Tortilla Recipe

Actually, I hesitate to call this a recipe.

It's so simple.

On the other hand since my metabolism is through the roof with all the cardio I do, I sometimes need a snack NOW! at odd hours and this is perfect for that.

As prepared, this is only 95 calories.  Your counts can vary depending on the size of things but here we go!

And it's so easy it's one of those kid friendly things you can do.

Ingredients:
  • 1 Six Inch Flour Tortilla
  • 1 Teaspoon Brown Sugar
  • A Dusting of Ground Cinnamon to taste

Preparation:
  • Take a six inch flour tortilla out of the package and place it on the rack of the toaster oven.
  • Dust the tortilla liberally with Ground Cinnamon to taste.
  • Pour the Brown Sugar on top of the Ground Cinnamon and mix it evenly.  I use my finger (don't tell!).
  • Slide the rack back into the toaster oven and toast until tan and crispy.
  • When done, allow to cool and slice into pieces as needed.

Yep!  That's it.  Like I said, I hesitate to call this a recipe.  More of a snack, and something after a workout to boost my blood sugar back to normal so I don't fall asleep in the chair.

Enjoy!


Sunday, January 5, 2020

The first sign of madness is talking to yourself. The second sign is replying.

Say what you will about Southern Culture, they have a way with a story.  There is a long tradition of artfully telling a story down here that is difficult to top.


This is one of those stories that has been told and retold. 

Heck, I may be retelling it here again.

Oh wait!  It's a blog, of course I am!



The Southern Grandma

-Lawyers should never ask a Mississippi grandma a question if they aren't prepared for the answer.

In a trial, a Southern small-town prosecuting attorney called his first witness, a grandmotherly, elderly woman to the stand. He approached her and asked, 'Mrs. Jones, do you know me?'

She responded, 'Why, yes, I do know you, Mr. Williams. I've known you since you were a boy, and frankly, you've been a big disappointment to me. You lie, you cheat on your wife, and you manipulate people and talk about them behind their backs. You think you're a big shot when you haven't the brains to realize you'll never amount to anything more than a two-bit paper pusher. Yes, I know you.'

The lawyer was stunned. Not knowing what else to do, he pointed across the room and asked, 'Mrs. Jones, do you know the defense attorney?'

She again replied, 'Why yes, I do. I've known Mr. Bradley since he was a youngster, too. He's lazy, bigoted, and he has a drinking problem. He can't build a normal relationship with anyone, and his law practice is one of the worst in the entire state. Not to mention he cheated on his wife with three different women. One of them was your wife. Yes, I know him.'

The defense attorney nearly died.

The judge asked both counselors to approach the bench and, in a very quiet voice, said,

'If either of you idiots asks her if she knows me, I'll send you both to the electric chair.'

Saturday, January 4, 2020

Once upon a time, a guy had dementia. What was I writing again?

I had some pretty good professors when I went to University.  Some of them were intensely engaging, and they kept me interested. 

My favorite one was in Economics, a basic knowledge of which will help you realize how much, er, Nonsense you are being fed by the people who you voted in.


I can absolutely see him making a speech like this one.

And just think!  You don't have to pay $100 a Credit Hour to hear it!




Marketing concepts.

 Professor at college explaining marketing concepts to Students:

    You see a gorgeous girl at a party. You go up to her and say: "I am very rich. "Marry me!" - That's Direct Marketing"

    You're at a party with a bunch of friends and see a gorgeous girl. One of your friends goes up to her and pointing at you says: "He's very rich. "Marry him." -That's Advertising"

    You see a gorgeous girl at a party. You go up to her and get her telephone number. The next day, you call and say: "Hi, I'm very rich. "Marry me - That's Telemarketing"

    You're at a party and see gorgeous girl. You get up and straighten your tie, you walk up to her and pour her a drink, you open the door (of the car) for her, pick up her bag after she drops it, offer her ride and then say: "By the way, I'm rich. Will you "Marry Me?" - That's Public Relations

    You're at a party and see gorgeous girl. She walks up to you and says:"You are very rich! "Can you marry ! me?" - That's Brand Recognition

    You see a gorgeous girl at a party. You go up to her and say: "I am very rich. Marry me!" She gives you a nice hard slap on your face. - "That's Customer Feedback"

    You see a gorgeous girl at a party. You go up to her and say: "I am very rich. Marry me!" And she introduces you to her husband. - "That's demand and supply gap"

    You see a gorgeous girl at a party. You go up to her and before you say anything, another person come and tell her: "I'm rich. Will you marry me?" and she
    goes with him - "That's competition eating into your market share"

    You see a gorgeous girl at a party. You go up to her and before you say: "I'm rich, Marry me!" your wife arrives. - "That's restriction for entering new markets"

Wednesday, January 1, 2020

Happy New Year 2020

All done with Amateur Night I see?

You have hopefully made it home safe without any ahem "legal" problems.


Yeah, we don't particularly like it when people imbibe and drive.  It's become less and less socially acceptable to do so during my lifetime.

I will say that the town doesn't look like it was picked up and dropped after that party that started a block and a half away just after sunset and lasted until after midnight. 

Supposedly the fireworks that freaked my dog out until he lost control of his bowels at the front door had ended around 2 AM.

He may be a McNab SuperDog (TM) but Rack is in the
majority of dogs that simply don't fathom why people need to celebrate turning the page on the calendar by using explosive devices long past the point where they ceased to be entertaining.

I'll be doing an extra laundry today.

And obviously, this happens more than once a year. 

So take down the old calendar.  My new one for 2020 is already on the door, and I don't see that I need another one, perfectly.

Pun Intended.

If you will excuse me I have to "spatch" a
chicken for lunch.  We found a Lemon Spatch Cooked Skillet Chicken recipe and apparently I am the little old lady with the technique.  Spatching a chicken is cutting it along the ribcage to be able to flatten it out.  You can do it with a sharp knife or a pair of scissors, but I think I just may grab the electric sawsall and pretend that I'll be doing some heavy construction instead of preparing a tasty meal.

So may your chickens be spatched, your dog be not freaked out, and your new year be bright and shiny and in focus.

Happy New Year 2020, where ever you may be reading this.


Sunday, December 29, 2019

Why is Santa so damn jolly? Because he knows where all the naughty girls live!

Tis the Season and all that.  Every time I hear about a little man in a Pointy Red Hat, I have to think about one of Santa's Elves.

In this little story about a little man in a little hat, if he is indeed one of Santa's Helpers, he got lost.


The little man in the hat.

There was the short man, about 2-3 ft tall, who had a tall pointy red hat and a big white beard. He would walk around subways and metros and find those people who sit on the ground play music for money.

This man would go up to them and start to stomp and clap a beat for them. Most of the time the musicians would enjoy and encourage the assistance.

One day when this man was off doing his thing, a talent agent who happened to be commuting through the same metro station heard this man’s percussive assistance and had a brilliant idea.

The talent agent realized that his clients, as good as they were with singing lacked a steady rhythm. So the talent agent decided to try to hire this man who had a gift for rhythm.

The agent approached the little man and asked him, “ Hello sir, I represent a certain talent agency that works with famous singers, and I couldn’t stop my self from hearing your rhythmical talents. I was wondering if you would want to come and work for me assisting famous singers maintain a solid beat?”

The little man replies with delight, “Boy, I’d love too!”

The agent says, “Great! What’s your name, I’ll start the paper work as soon as I can and get in touch with you.”

The little man says, “they call me the metro-gnome”.

Saturday, December 28, 2019

I called the tinnitus helpline today. It didn't stop ringing!

Then again, if you were what they called "An Aspirin Baby" your ears would be ringing too.

Lets see, Tylenol simply doesn't work (for me).
Aspirin has my ears ringing.

Got a headache?  Heck let's have a beer.  Beer is proof that God Loves Us and Wants to Keep Us Happy.

Anyway...


An engineer, a psychologist, and a theologian were hunting in the wilderness of northern Canada.

Suddenly, the temperature dropped and a furious snowstorm was upon them. They came across an isolated cabin, far removed from any town. The hunters had heard that the locals in the area were quite hospitable, so they knocked on the door to ask permission to rest.

No one answered their knocks, but they discovered the cabin was unlocked and they entered. It was a simple place ... 2 rooms with a minimum of furniture and household equipment. Nothing was unusual about the cabin except the stove. It was large, potbellied, and made of cast-iron. What was strange about it was its location ... it was suspended in midair by wires attached to the ceiling beams.

"Fascinating," said the psychologist. "It is obvious that this lonely trapper, isolated from humanity, has elevated this stove so that he can curl up under it and vicariously experience a return to the womb."

"Nonsense!" replied the engineer. "The man is practicing the laws of thermodynamics. By elevating his stove, he has discovered a way to distribute heat more evenly throughout the cabin."

"With all due respect," interrupted the theologian, "I'm sure that hanging his stove from the ceiling has religious meaning. Fire LIFTED UP has been a religious symbol for centuries." The three debated the point for several hours without resolving the issue.

When the trapper finally returned, they immediately asked him why he had hung his heavy potbellied stove from the ceiling. His answer was succinct. "Had plenty of wire, not much stove pipe."

Wednesday, December 25, 2019

Happy Holidays Where Ever You Are


It's still early, you really can have a good holiday.

Choose one, pick a tradition, it doesn't even have to be your own.  Then make it your own and enjoy it.

In my case, we're going to cook Boeuf Borguignon in the Instant Pot.  We'll have it for lunch and enjoy the company here even if it just talking to the dog and going outside later to get complained at by the Blue Jays that have come down from Up North for the winter.

Now, if you are a good cook and are a little confused about cooking Haute French Cuisine in a pressure cooker, consider that every recipe is a tradition.  It's a set of instructions that are handed down through the ages to perform an act and receive a result.  Traditions do change but are meant to be adapted to the way you live today.

Since we were gifted the Instant Pot and are taking to it very well, we have decided to adapt that recipe to our own tradition. 

Julia Child did that when she simplified and popularized the recipe. 

After all, isn't that exactly what you do with your own holiday traditions?

Heck we didn't even put up lights or a tree this year. 

The lights because we got the house painted and the hooks STILL aren't up.  The tree because the table has four pounds of soap curing. Plus I felt all Meh about a table top tree.

Oh the batteries are charged for the lights on the table top tree but ... well you get the picture.  I even charged them via the Solar Charger so it would be carbon neutral as a point of pride.

So have a happy holiday, what ever holiday and which ever tradition you choose.  I'm going to sip coffee until the house wakes up, then try not to get involved. 

You know, too many cooks spoil the Adapted French Cuisine, and all that!

That picture?  Seen it before did you?  Then you're paying attention.  It's my tradition.  I rather like the picture so I tend to reuse it when I can.  As in once a year.