April Fools Day - Or Amateur Day. You Decide.

I mean really.

This is a day where everyone thinks up little jokes to play on friends.  They usually fall flat and someone gets their feelings hurt.

I usually do a lot of jokes myself.  In fact I drop a lot of what can be called "Dad Jokes" on the weekend.  All could be told in a high school class, most in an elementary school with some explanation I am sure. 

Hey! what can I say.   I do have a little story though.

I used to work with someone, Sam.  It was the nick he went by so I guess no real names were used.  Nice enough guy but he was an intense one.

Sam had a rapport with the five Ukrainian programmers we had on staff.  The ladies were all excellent and some were struggling with English.  

One, Inna, came to me completely frustrated with her English.  Flailing her hands around I waited for her to calm down.  Grasping those now still hands, I merely told her "Inna, No matter what, I will help you".  

She said that Sam was learning Russian Language obscenities and swearing all over the office.  She was deeply uncomfortable with it.  When I asked what he was saying, she blushed and insisted that she could not say it because it was so bad.

I said "Inna, I have an idea".  

"Teach me a word.  Something sounding rude in English but it should be very common or 'nice' for all audiences."  

I then explained that I will use this word at him, publicly and really get him all worked up, but she had to explain to the other ladies what is happening and since the one who is teaching him the rude words is out of the office for two weeks, we were going to play a prank on him.

I think I made a friend and an ally then with the plan.

For the next two weeks I was calling old Sammy a "Tsviatok".  That is what I remember the transliteration to be.  It means "Flower", and if spat out by an American, it sounded really rude.

The whole office did not know what was going on and any time Sammy started up, I would sound off "What is that little Tsviatok getting into now?!".

Everyone was aware that something was up.  

When asked, I would simply say "I like you too much to tell you, let's just keep it a secret."  That usually did enough to quiet the flames.

Eventually "Management" got involved.  I was called into a Closed Door Meeting.  I have caused Closed Door Meetings many times myself, I had a privileged place in the organization and was treated as Someone Who Will Be Promoted As Soon As We Can.

My direct managers asked me point blank and said this is becoming a problem.

When I told them the story and that it meant "Flower" the laugh was loud enough to be heard outside the closed doors.

The next day, I was in front of both managers, their boss, and Sammy.  Sammy said I know what that means!

I said "Sammy stop swearing, especially in front of the bosses!".

"It isn't a swear, it means Flower!" said Sammy.

I simply repeated what I said to the bosses in that closed door meeting.  I liked Sammy but I could see that he was really embarrassed at what happened and that most of the office was in on the joke by that point.  

It turned out that the person who he was most friendly in the five Ukrainian ladies, Slava, had clued him in that morning what was going on.  

So the trap got sprung and everyone knew what was up.

Remember though, keep it light.  Someone may be uncomfortable with your little prank.

I know Sammy was.

Honeybells in the Driveway. A Very Florida Way To Have An Orange

Once upon a time, I was a Snowbird.  

Yes, I am sorry, one of those people.  I would fly to Florida and bask in the sun for a few weeks.  Then I would fly back and have stories to tell about a vacation.

I did that for years before I moved here.  I never really did like the cold weather.  Cold Weather went from being something that happened, to something that I dreaded.  The day I left Pennsylvania, April 11 2006, there was still snow on the ground.  A late snow for Philadelphia, but still snow.

I hope never to live in a place with snow on the ground.

My preferred way of getting there was driving the car.  It gave me freedom of motion, and freedom from planning.

Plus flying meant airports, airports and the whole ritual of getting in the air is about as close to hell on earth as I can conceive of.  Even being in rush hour traffic is preferable.

It also allowed me to stop and look around.  After all, the drive for me was a two day affair.  I'm good with long drives, but you do have to get out from time to time.

Stopping midway down the coast one time I discovered a distinctly Florida fruit.  Honeybells.  Specifically Honeybell Oranges.  They were similar to a Tangelo, but those were nowhere near as sweet.  A leathery skin, very moist, very sweet.  Candy like, the name Honeybell fit well.  

The locals turned me onto the things.  They would speak in loving terms about these with pride.  Good Years they were everywhere.  There was a farmer's market on the way that I would always stop at and get a big bag of them.  Both directions actually, one for while I was in Florida, one for home.  

My family and friends got wind of them and insisted on my getting them some when I could.

One of the first things I did when I moved here, and into my house, was to find a Honeybell tree and plant it in a bad spot near the car port.  It's too hot there, too dry, and the tree struggled to put any fruit out, usually giving up at about 3 oranges.

A couple years back, news came out that Florida Citrus had Canker.  I didn't know it, but that was the end of finding these fruit widely.  My own tree did not have the canker, as that picture is about as perfect an Orange as I could find at any point.

But the days of wedging a heavy half bushel bag on each side of the Jeep's wheel well was done.  I wasn't driving, and the fruit just wasn't available.

This year's three little oranges was about as much as I could find.  I have had two of three and they were wonderful.  Since Citrus does not ripen off the trees, as my Mangoes do, I am allowing the last one a little more time.

My mistreated tree was doing me well.  I picked the first, and walked to the driveway.  Peeling the leathery skin and setting bits on the bumper of the Jeep, I was able to taste that same wonderful taste from days gone by.

They just are not available, you just won't be able to have one unless you know someone with a tree.  When canker swept Florida, "They" - the state or the USDA or both, paid the owners to cut down their trees.  Mine was planted after the canker.  

There is just one orange left.  I'll have it sitting on the bumper of the Jeep, leaving a sloppy puddle of juice on the cement behind the car.  Or maybe, better, indoors on a plate.  That way I can catch that sweet nectar.

They really are that good.  Too bad you will probably never have one.
You see, I used to have a place I could go.  I knew a guy who could get me "B" fruit.  Oh it ate well but was not "Gift" quality.

But no longer.  That is quite the shame.  A bit of old Florida sweetness gone by the wayside.

Let me tell you, one year, I made the trip on a big old motorcycle.  Honda Goldwing Interstate.  When you get to middle of the coast, say Indian River county, and the trees were in bloom, your ride would be perfumed by millions of Orange Blossoms.  Having a big bag of oranges strapped to the back of that bike added some weight but the pay off of the snack on the road was worth it.

Mrs Monarch Butterfly Takes Her First Flight

This is a case of if you annoy someone enough, you may just get some truly fascinating pictures.

I have enjoyed watching Monarch Butterflies since I was a wee brat.  Literally all my life.

They were the beautiful jewels of summer when I was growing up on the Prairies of New Jersey.  You never saw many of them, and when you did they were always special.

I did take some time to read up on them, and their life cycle is well known.  The butterfly is one of a few stages.  Egg, Caterpillar, Pupa, Butterfly. 

I had a thing for growing flowers, specifically Zinnia.  They would grow freely in our yard so it was a matter of tossing a few seeds and keeping the soil moist.  You would be graced by a bloom in time. 

The butterflies would eventually arrive from the South on their trip Northward.  Have a meal at my Zinnia buffet, perhaps lay a few eggs elsewhere and disappear.  There would be more coming from the North later on in the season, heading Southward.

When I moved to Florida, I found that there is a permanent population endemic here.  People enjoyed seeing them, so they would plant things in their gardens to help them along. 

I am, of course, one of those people.

Zinnia seeds in hand, along with the Bougainvillea that helped sell this house to us, I made sure that there were plenty of things here for the little visitors to have.

Bright idea!  I would grow milkweed and watch them progress through their life cycles from egg through emergence from their pupa and fly off.

Except, there's a problem.  Since Milkweed is not exactly plentiful in the curated gardens of South Florida, when they found it, the butterflies would lay eggs.  Dozens of eggs.  That meant dozens of caterpillars.  Usually on one or two plants.  Since they don't have much food, the ones that hatched first would eat the plant and the eggs of the others would not get a chance to either hatch or get any food.

In a week, I was left with toothpicks in the soil where once a planter box had knee high foliage. 

I hatched a plan to build a cage around the planter box so that I would reserve a few plants and hopefully get some flowers and seeds.

That cut back the visits.  The butterflies would bounce off the cage and fly off, frustrated. 

Eventually the milkweed grew to touch the top of the cage and one enterprising Momma Monarch left an egg on the plant, before I could train the plant with some wire to bend it away from the protective cage.

The one egg hatched into a caterpillar, then ate away a plant all on its own.  Formed a jade jewel of a chrysalis, and the butterfly eventually emerged.

That morning I saw her, found a stick and she climbed upon it.  The cage was set aside and I put the stick in the croton growing in the front. 

Excitedly, I got the camera out and snapped off a few pictures.  Then a few more.

She did not like having her portrait taken.  I think that is universal, my dog does not seem to care for it either. 

Launching in air, at that point I thought I was done.  Except when I looked at the photos, I saw one very strange picture.  It was a Monarch butterfly Thorax and a bit of the wing along with the antennae.

I have a picture of the butterfly in flight.  I never expected that.

So it does go to say that if you are annoying enough with a camera, even a paparazzi can get an interesting picture.

When you are in The Zone your mind goes to Hibiscus Flowers

Funny where your mind goes when you're in the zone.

See I have been doing endurance workouts for so long that I tell people I never get out of the "Runner's High".   This morning was a 20.13 mile bike ride.  Duckduckgo.com says it's 32.4 km. 

When I first started working out, it was in college.  My parents did not really understand why I started at all, but I did.  I would get tired walking up a three block hill to the dorms.  Tired was a code word for Asthma.

To this day I am convinced that my asthma was from sitting on the couch and never really exercising my lungs as well as having allergies from dust to cats to who knows what else. 

Making it a point to cut out of the diet anything that was perceived to be unhealthy, I eventually got things to a science.  That includes finding out what I needed to eat and drink to lose weight.  75 pounds during the four years I was at campus.  Having the gym was a god send, I was able to work through some severe injuries and by the time I graduated and moved out, I was able to run 10km 3 times a week at Valley Forge National Park near my home in Pennsylvania.

If you are familiar with the place, there is this one hill I was proud of being able to run up.  The trail has a 30% grade.  All this from a kid who was picked last for any sport in school, and pretty much rightfully so.  The Any Size Fits All approach to public education in Cherry Hill NJ meant you did what the meat of the bell curve would do whether you could do it or not.

Can you tell I hated what passed for "Gym Class" in school?  Colossal waste of time for me.  I asked for weightlifting, I was told to run around outside.  Give up.

It really isn't "Why can't Johnny learn" it is more like "Why can't teacher teach". 

So taking life into my own hands I have had a lifetime of sports that I can do "all my life".  Biking was today, but I am within 500 miles of Inline Skating once around the world at the equator worth of distance.  Lifetime goal of 25,000 miles.

To paraphrase Peter Griffin on Family Guy "Left Foot, Right Foot, Eventually you get somewhere".

As I was riding around town in large 4 mile circles, of course my mind drifted through all that.  "On Yer Left!" I announced more than once as I rode past people and it wasn't even sunrise yet.

A beautiful experience, riding a bike through your chosen city as the sun comes up.  The clouds shifting from black to grey, through the rainbow, to white.  The sun painting the skies blue, the trees sway in the breezes, the parrots chattering in the trees.

Eventually people woke and went about their day and I continued riding around in large lazy circles.  Pausing for a cookie on the seats in front of City Hall, I met with others.  I acted like a fool dressed in technicolor polyester.  Cooling down for that break, I get back out for two more large lazy circles. 

You would think that you get tired but there's a dissociative aspect to being on an endurance workout.  I was on the bike actively for more than an hour and a half.  I knew that the body needed a rest, but I did not feel the pain or discomfort.  It was more like I was observing it from the outside.  When I am on the skates and get into this zone, I call it "Skate: The Movie".  Literally you disconnect and watch that body of yours roll through its paces.  Sure you are tired, but you don't "Feel Tired".  

But you do slow down.  I try to keep the speed at a good pace.  The little man who announces in the headphones tells me my heart rate, and I am aware of good bad or indifferent.  I perform well over what a doctor thinks is where my heart should be at for someone of "My Age".  That average has been as high as 160, within the last week, when I am at the better trail, around town I have to slow down and the average today was down to 145.

Like a speedometer in traffic I guess.

While all that is going on I am thinking "What will I write" "Do I have any pictures?" and other things completely disconnected from the task at hand.

I figure that Hibiscus picture is new, I'll use that.  It's pretty and I like it.

Riding through the traffic I notice that the high school drop offs have stopped, and it is late.  I get a text that recycling was picked up, which is a shame since I didn't put it out. 

But all said and done, it's a good day to get your butt off the couch and burn 1500 calories.  A bit light, if it were on skates that would be 2100 calories - biking is easier than skating is due to mechanical advantages.

Biking is good for cross training.  Inline skating will overbuild your outside fibers of your legs, biking will balance that out by building the center fibers.  They do work well together, and had I known that while competitively riding 100 miles per week, I would have been better at my sport.

Oh well, Live and Learn.  When all is said and done, it's time for more coffee and more flower pictures.

Wednesdays are a day off the trails but busy as always. So let's naval gaze and look at some recipes.

 If this is a Day Off, how did I get so busy?

Was up at 515am. Ok, so for me, that is normal.  Got to walk the dog, get home, make coffee, start breakfast.

But today being Wednesday, I got started on "Things".

Before Sunrise I managed to get the dishwasher started, laundry started, and make a giant pot of Rice.  Need that to start on the dog food that the ingredients are thawing.

In case you are wondering - 2 parts water to a full boil with a little bit of olive oil on top.  1 part rice poured over top.  Stir and bring to full boil, then place lid on it.  Forget about the pot for an hour and you don't need a rice cooker.

But that big pot will get used for making dog food later so the rice has to be frozen and portion packed.

I tell people I am a 1950s homemaker.  I roast coffee, make soap, make and home can jelly and jam.  I am on a quest to make cream cheese - if it works I will put that recipe up here because I have no real long term memory.

You should not either.  Not with baking.  Sure, some things can be a little forgiving - like the Magic Shell I dropped online earlier.  That depends on the quality of the baking chips.  Good quality chocolate pieces need more Coconut Oil to help it get more melty, the cheaper flavored things like Butterscotch need less.  If it is waxy, add less to the mix.

But anything with a process and precise, like baking bread or making soap, require a proper recipe.

Excuse me, the washer wants my attention!

Hmmm, dishwasher's done too.

Oh well this way I've always got plenty of Mango Jelly and clean dishes to have it on.  Clean dishes are important.

Last year we had a long and late Mango season.  Into August there were still fruit falling from the trees.  A Freshly Fallen Mango can be one of the sweetest fruits you have ever had.  I chunked those mangoes up into 4 cup bags, and froze them.  Still had enough to make a batch a year later when I was chunking up this years early windfallen fruit.

If ever I get a chance and finish all that mango goodness, I really do want to try that recipe with peaches.  They have the same texture as a mango does.

If not, have you ever had a Mango Tart?  Basically a fruit pie made with Mango Jelly.  I have a lot of the stuff, and it's really nice on a Graham Cracker Crust.  I Know what I will have for my dessert after lunch.  It works incredibly well with the Lemon Curd recipe I have too.

All that athleticism is really just an excuse for me to eat sweets, right?  Don't tell anyone my secret!

I guess it's time to hop to it, right?  That coffee isn't going to roast itself and I can be a terror on full caff.  I am out of decaf and the regular is getting low.

No, seriously,   Caffeine is a performance enhancing drug.  It works like an oxygen uptake enhancer.  So if you are an athlete, getting a good amount of caffeine in your system can help you.  Sort of like that blood doping that you hear about but on the cheap and not as crazy as the olympic athletes are trying to get away with.

And at my age, well over 40, I need all the help I can get.

Usually with 3 sweets, and 4 cream to a tankard.

Cedarwood Soap, Caramel, and Sea Breeze Memories from the Jersey Shore

The day started out like a typical workout day:

Dog walk, Coffee, Spanish, Carboload, out to the park before 9AM.

I seem to enjoy going around in large lazy circles on plastic wheels with ceramic bearings.  Ceramic, like your coffee mug made out of Sapphires.

Long story, I won't go into that here.

I was out at Mills Pond Park in Fort Lauderdale.  If you aren't from the area, this is the same park that Jackass did some scenes for their own insanity.  Jumps and leaps over partially submerged ramps is not my preferred way to get Beta Endorphins.

I did my 18.7 miles for the day and came home.  That would be 30.09 KM if you're counting.  Good day for a workout too, temps in the high 70s, light winds, bright sun... that sort of thing.  Even the grounds were watered in a way I could get through them.

Kids, don't try this at home.  I have Ceramic Bearings in my boots so I CAN get them wet.  If you try that with "regular" skates, they will rust solid before you can get them cleaned at home.

After having lunch it was time to clean up.  Shower time, Coach!  I selected some music to play on the speaker and set the volume.

Classic Disco Mix.  I was feeling retro today.  I do that frequently.

One other thing I do frequently is make my own soap.  I have been for a few years now.  I do it so I can dial in the quality I demand, the scents I want, and just the right amount of moisturizing.  It works well and it helps me work through the chemistry that I aced in High School.  The teacher was a big stoner and used to give us labs that we would finish while he went out and "relaxed" with the math teacher for a bit.

He also knew that I was there and would help people out.  I used to get 99.5% or better of theoretical results on my Chem labs. 

So my soap is down to a science as well.  I have a couple scents that I like but this one... well it gave me a flash back to childhood.

It was a "Cedarwood" scented bar. 

If you are a Jersey Boy like I am, and no I don't mean like those Noo Yawk Idiots that go and do the Jersey Shore nonsense on TV, you know the scents of the Boardwalk.

I mean "Boardwalk" as in Atlantic City.  I also mean "boardwalk" as in Ocean City.  Both in New Jersey.  Almost everyone there were from South Jersey and Philly anyway since we were inconvenient for the New Yorkers to get that far South.

It's "Boardwalk" in AC.  And ONLY in AC.  Because someone named Board built the thing.  Anywhere else it should be in lower case. 

There's a "scent" to that part of the Jersey Shore.  Think Cotton Candy, Popcorn, Caramel from the Salt Water Taffy, Roasting Peanuts, and when you walk into a store, Cedar.

A quirk of these Boardwalk and boardwalk shops was that you could find trinkets all made of Cedar.  Smelled like "Mom's Cedar Chest". 

And so does that soap.

There I was finishing up soaping my head with Cedarwood Soap, and I tend to not send that stuff out when I make bricks since it's for me.  On pops Bonnie Pointer singing her heart out that "Heaven Must Have Sent ... You Baby, For Only Meeeee"!. 

I'm getting a childhood flashback.  Sitting in Dad's Old Buick Limited.  It became mine after he died.  The timing is a bit odd since I'm conflating a couple Jersey Shore Memories, but stick with me. 

When you're driving a Big Old Buick down US 30 towards ACY you hit a curve around Pomona NJ.  That's where you get that smell from the Jersey Shore.  First dad would say "Hey smell that salt air" to us, and we'd breathe deeply.  In the summer he would switch off the air conditioning in the big car so we could smell it.  Pomona was where the "thermocline" was and the temperature would drop a solid 10 Degrees F on the right day and you got nice and cool.

Then as you got closer to your destination you would catch that smell from the shops.  I swear they pump that stuff out the windows of the shops so you would be dragged in.  It's like being near a Cinnamon bun place in a mall, Remember Malls?

Of course we would go in there and get some stuff to give our pre-teen selves a sugar high and head to the water to look for shells and clams and lay out for a "couple-a-hours".

Down-a-shore we would go.  Dig a hole, hit the water table in less than a hand's depth, and build a drain for it to get to the ocean and you would have a sand castle with a moat.

I was in that shower, warm water, cedar scented soap, and finishing up with Bonnie Pointer singing.  It all reminds me of when we piled into that Buick later those two weeks between High School and College for a vacation.  Me and my buddies in a cheap hotel room doing the last gasp of childhood.  We drove down and hit that spot in Pomona and rolled down the windows and took it all in.

So if I catch a whiff of my own private stash of Cedarwood soap I just may be thinking of Ninth Street Beach in Ocean City, NJ and if the radio is playing just the right track, I'll be smiling.

Hey, youse wanna go downashore?  Just watch for those seagulls, they'll steal yer food right from yer hand!

Betty's Vinca Blooms By The Pool

 Somehow this fits.

Once upon a time I had an Aunt.  She moved into Century Village down here for the winters instead of staying in New York in the cold.  

Happily, I visited her, and at the end of one visit she told me to take some of her flowers.  I did and they grew here happily.

She was going.  Somehow I knew she would not come back and she was leaving me with these as a token.

Perhaps a bit too happily, now they're in strange spots all over my yard.

Fitting to the memory of my Aunt, they're tough.  Betty's Flowers are showing up in cracks in the pavement by the pool and blooming.

I've been told that the flowers I chose are considered Invasive.  Vincas.  I don't care.  I see them and I smile.  I think of my long gone friend and these little plants and enjoy the memories.

Thanks, Betty, for the memories.

Take A Break, Mango Season Is Coming

Just like anything else with me, everything happens near the house or on a workout.

I was out skating.  Nothing new with that, in fact it was the longest skate workout I have had since I moved to Florida.

I had already gotten ten miles in and it was time to rest.  The spot I rest at is under a small copse of trees, has a bench, water, and overlooks the Goodyear Blimp base in Pompano Airpark.  It's a pretty little spot where you can watch people get their cardio in, watch the blimp from time to time, and just have a break from what you are doing.   

Call it an Athlete's Hangout, I do.  Beautiful day.  Warm sun, breezes were light off the ocean.  I rather enjoy that spot.  

I got greeted by one of the fellow skaters and decided to get back to the task at hand and pack in another couple sprints.  Conditions like this only happen in the winter in the south, by the time April hits, we're already pushing the temps towards 90 and you know season is changing.

Actually when I got back to that same bench, that was exactly what I was thinking.  How nice it is, and how privileged I was to be able to enjoy this kind of condition.

Reaching into my skate pack, I grabbed my sport bottle, opened it, and tipped my head back to enjoy some ice water.  Looking up through spotted sunglasses, I noticed that my friend the Mango Tree was back in bloom.  It's a Hagen Mango tree, just like the big one near my house, and I have had fruit from it before.  Orange, creamy, and sweet.  

In a couple months it will be dropping more fruit.

Sitting there, you can gather your thoughts.  I skated 17 miles at that point and decided that it was approaching enough.  I'd do another 3 miles and then head on back.

Smiling at the thought, it was time to go.  Any more would break that peaceful spell.  Yes, it is possible to have peace at upwards of a 175 BPM heart rate, in fact it's preferable.  Standing up, I got on the trail and was able to glide on home. 

I used to compete, I used to skate hyper marathons multiple times in the week.  Now I do this for me.  Headphones on, it's a great way to enjoy the day.

Find your zone.  If it includes being on eight wheels, say hi as you pass the other way or join me for a sprint. 

In Philadelphia, Skating was massive.  On West River Drive, and I believe they changed the name of it by now to something else.  Weekend days it would be closed to allow people to enjoy the park, intimately, so that you could do any non motorized sport.  About half way through that drive is an old stone bridge and a water stop.  Right by that stop, and you have to know where, the was an old apple tree.   If you were lucky, you could tramp out across the grass and find an apple still on the tree.  Fairmount Park did not treat the grounds there other than cutting the grass so it was organic.  I've had many of those apples through the years, and having the mango here is ... well it is just right.

What did the step ladder say to the ladder? You’re not my real dad!

I have driven Jeep Wranglers for quite a while.  I have a vehicle that can take me anywhere that there is a hit of a road.  The one I have is 19 years old, and is as sound as the day I bought it.  It is thirsty and if I can find gas for it, it will probably outlast me.  With only 50,000 miles, it's just a baby.

That combination of the 4 Liter Inline Six designed by AMC and a Manual Five Speed Transmission is usually described as unkillable.

It's taken me to some amazing places where I got to indulge my desires to commune with Nature, see the sunrise over the New Jersey Pine Forests, and see the wildlife where they live.

Take nothing but memories, leave nothing but footprints, and tread lightly.

I never was the kind of Jeep Bro who would carve out water channels through the muck because it just was not my way.  But it was fun to get out to places where once your motor is turned off, the only thing you would hear is the cooling of the heat shields and the breezes through the forest.  

Wildlife was always nearby and you could get out and hike a bit while you are at it.

Just remember When Hiking Near Bears.

The National Park Rangers are advising hikers in Glacier National Park and other Rocky Mountain parks to be alert for bears and take extra precautions to avoid an encounter.

They advise park visitors to wear little bells on their clothes so they make noise when hiking.
The bell noise allows bears to hear them coming from a distance and not be startled by a hiker accidentally sneaking up on them. This might cause a bear to charge.

Visitors should also carry a pepper spray can just in case a bear is encountered. S
praying the pepper into the air will irritate the bear's sensitive nose and it will run away.

It is also a good idea to keep an eye out for fresh bear scat so you have an idea if bears are in the area.
People should be able to recognize the difference between black bear and grizzly bear scat.
Black bear droppings are smaller and often contain berries, leaves, and possibly bits of fur.
Grizzly bear droppings tend to contain small bells and smell of pepper.

How it got to be Kevin Puryear's Bench at Pompano Airpark

For me, the story starts well after things were in play.

You see, I restarted a regular habit of my own, then took it on the road.

I have started skating on a regular basis this year, and that meant I was going to Pompano Airpark.  I’d go, skate, fall down, and generally beat myself into a pulp while thoroughly enjoying the exercise.

I’m going twice a week, as early in the day as I can get out there, to skate a 9 mile workout. It is a great way to burn upwards of 1500 calories, and get some beta endorphins.

I guess being as big as I am, almost 7 feet on skates with helmet, the beta endorphins would soften my own appearance.

Going along on the trail, I’d have a big goofy grin on my face, while I am in my cocoon of music on the headphones.

I became a regular. People would recognize me, smile and wave.

There was one person in specific who hung out at the 1.5 mile water stop.  It’s a small stand of shade trees surrounding a water fountain and three green metal benches.  Since the park really needs more water stops, this stop became a bit of a hangout.

I noticed as I was skating by, heading past the big Goodyear blimp hangar, there was one person curiously asking me the time.

Frequently.

“What Time You Got? Is it 9 O’Clock yet?” I’d hear.
“Um sure!” Glancing at my watch.
“Have a great morning!”

I’d be confused as he was generally very friendly even if his outward appearance was on the rather scruffy side and led me to believe that he might be homeless.

As I’m going through this year, I’m testing out old equipment to prove that I can continue to use it, or that I should “retire” it.  Trust me, skates don’t age well, and my newest pair is over 15 years old.

One of those test workouts, I had to stop at that water stop.  By that I meant I was in desperate need of a rest since the skates being tested had me burning almost twice my usual “burn rate” in calories.  I was exhausted.

He was there.  Still pleasant as usual.

I got my drink and he waited.  As soon as I had finished “Is it 9 o’clock yet? You enjoying yourself?”

“Oh yes, I am!”  I fibbed, but people never want to hear bad news.  After all my third wheel had swollen and was forcing me to take way too many rests than usual.

I guess I had made a new friend.  Every time in the future, I’d hear him cheer me on or shout a loud Hello! as I passed.

This was what he did.  He would hang out with the people working out at the park.  Some more athletic than others, always greeted by him.

I grew to expect to see him there, then grew to look forward to him.  He just was there, being pleasant, sitting under the trees, never threatening, just enjoying being there as everyone would come and go.

Later, usually late morning, he’d wander off.  I never saw where he went to but I figured he had another place to go and more people to see.

Local Color is what I call something like this.  Someone who does something unexpected that brings a bit of character to the area.

I realized after a while that he had gone missing and I didn’t know why.  My mid lap greeting was gone.  Since I tended not to stop often at that water stop, I never learned why.

Except one day a small memorial cropped up on his bench.  Right where he always sat, closest to the trail on the southernmost bench.

The story explained that he had been struck by the Brightline train on June 10, 2019.  His family had invited everyone to his service and his funeral to say goodbye.

It turns out that he was an uncle, a brother, and a friend to his family and they said he will be missed.

I was telling this story to my own family the other day and realized that yes, he would be missed.  I missed seeing him there on what I had taken to calling Kevin’s Bench.

It is now two months after he died.  The little memorial is still there.  I still look every time I pass there.

Kevin has gone, we at the park still remember.

You never really know who you touch in life or how you effect others by your actions.

Sometimes those effected don’t realize that they were until you've gone.

Rye Beer Bread Recipe

I needed bread in the house.

I wanted something different.

I was actually thinking about the Rye bagels I used to get as a kid in Cherry Hill, NJ. 

If you couldn't get a good, proper, and Kosher bagel in Cherry Hill, you couldn't get it. 

Say what you will about NJ, but South Jersey was different, and you could get great Kosher there.  I would go to the Bagel Place on Chapel and Kings Highway and talk to Mrs H there, and she would get my bagels. 

Mrs H is long gone, I moved away, and I understand there's still "A" Bagel Place there, although I am not sure if it is still using her recipes so maybe it isn't or maybe it really "Is" THE Bagel Place.  I'll leave it to someone up there in Jersey to find out for me.

Another quirk about South Jersey was that you could get excellent Ethnic food there.  Being that close to Philly, I think it was a requirement.

But that Rye Bread.  I knew I would never make a proper Jewish Rye bread, because there's just a certain something about a loaf of bread with that little sticker on the side.

This was close.

It was good.  Had a proper chewy body to it.  Everyone who had some of this loaf commented about it, long and loud.

I will certainly make it again.

Oh - and it was one of those "why not" moments.

I was a cup down on the flour and simply poured in as an add-in a cup of Rye Flour.

The recipe below... Substitute 1 cup Rye Flour (or more to taste) to get this awesome loaf of bread.


Ingredients:

For "Sponge" or "Poolish":

• 1 1/2 teaspoons of yeast
• 1/2 cup all purpose flour
• 1/2 cup warm water - 100 degrees F or 40 degrees C
• you may need a few drops more water depending on conditions

For the rest of the bread:

• 4 Cups All Purpose Flour - Substitute 1 cup Rye for Rye Bread
• 12 ounce bottle of ROOM TEMPERATURE Beer, your choice
• 1 1/2 teaspoons table salt
• you may need extra water depending on your conditions

For Dusting:

• Cornmeal for dusting the pan and Parchment Paper
• Flour for dusting the loaf

Process:

I used a stand mixer and it's bowl to prepare this recipe, Poolish and Dough, but you may choose to use a large mixing bowl and your hands.  This dough will be sticky and result in a silky smooth dough - so enjoy the texture.  I did finish this out on the counter by hand.

Poolish/Sponge

• To your mixing bowl add yeast, flour, and warm water.
• Mix the ingredients with fork or whisk.
• The resulting mix will be like a pancake batter, it should stir easily.  
• Add an extra tablespoon of water if needed.
• Allow your Poolish to brew in a warm place for 30 minutes.
• My own warm place is inside a cold oven with the light on.

Making the dough

• To your mixing bowl and the Poolish add the Beer, Flour, and Salt one by one.
• Mix the dough by hand or with a dough hook until it is even and pulls away from the walls of the bowl.
• The dough will be sticky and thick.
• Cover the dough with a wet towel, and place back in your warm place for two hours or until it is at least doubled in size.

Forming the Loaf

• Scrape your dough out of the bowl with your hands or spatula.
• Place the dough onto the floured board and dust well with more flour.
• Roll the dough out into a loaf shape.
• The dough should be silky and a little sticky.
• You may divide the dough into two loaves for convenience.
• Move each loaf onto a baking sheet that is generously dusted with cornmeal.
• Dust the top of the loaves with more flour,
• Return your loaves to the warm place for another half hour or more.

Baking your loaf

• Preheat the oven to 425F with a pan of water for humidity.
• Slash some slits in the top of the loaf to allow growth.
• Bake each loaf for 30 minutes or until they sound hollow when thumped.
• Allow your bread to cool before serving. 

Or don't allow your bread to cool.  I couldn't wait, this stuff was amazing!

Four Cherry Cordials, a Welcome Treat

I've had these all my life.

At least as long as I can remember.

These are the G Rated version of a treat that I discovered probably before I could walk well.  Always having a sweet tooth, I would gravitate toward them and anything else that tasted well. 

I'd pop one in my mouth, and if I was patient, allow the chocolate shell to melt until the cherry sugar syrup would run out onto my tongue.  Then I'd have a third treat as the cherry waited behind for my molar to pop it open like a sweet balloon.

My sister discovered that I liked those things and when we realized that tradition said we should be giving gifts on holidays and birthdays, a box of these would show up.

A welcome treat.

Once, and only once, I found the Real Version of these.   They'd have an alcoholic brandy in them, most likely Kirschwasser, a German Cherry Cordial.  I remember those being "amazing" but decidedly hard to come by.  New Jersey, where my sister and I grew up, most likely had regulated them to being frightfully scarce and in "all my years" I've only ever seen them twice. 

It has been a while since the Mastodons roamed free in the North Eastern United States, and I suspect that they ate most of the Alcoholic Cherry Cordials to keep them out of my own hands.  I guess they like Kirschwasser as well.

It's an open secret between my sister and I that I will receive these in a "Care Package From Home". 

I see them here at the supermarket and it Isn't Quite The Same.  Of course we could just toss one in the cart, but it just hasn't felt right to do so.  While I truly enjoy these overly sugary treats, it wouldn't have quite the same feeling since my dear sister didn't toss them in a box, cart them to the Cherry Hill, New Jersey Post Office, stand in line, and post them to me here in South Florida.

Luckily those events are in the cooler parts of the year.  Shipping chocolate to Florida via the US Postal Service guarantees that they will arrive partially melted and most likely "deformed".

But, Hey!  They Eat Well, Right?

I had gotten a welcome Care Package back around the holidays and set a few of these aside in a very cool part of the refrigerator.  Not so much to hide them from anyone else in the house, I did it to hide them from myself.  I wanted a small treat to remember a well thought and welcome present from someone dear to me, far away.

Plus they taste damn good.

POP! All gone!

Oh and frozen?  They're amazing too!

Winter in Florida and The Dogs Are Prepared

It was scheduled last week on Friday.

I hear we may be getting more this week.

By "Winter" I mean temperatures in the 50s.

That would be a low of between 10 and 15C for my international readers.

If you live in South Florida, have a pool, have social and intelligent dogs that follow you around every day, watch your Iced Tea.

This was an older picture.  That's Lettie who passed a couple years back.  I was going through my pictures and she popped out at me.  It's pretty much what I go through though.

You see that small area is a spa, or hot tub, and we rarely use it.  The heater takes hours to get it to a nice comfy 104F/40C and we settle for 95F/35C.  That last 5C is a killer. 

I've sat in that spa at oddball times of the day and night.  Days are better since you can see the mosquitoes to swat at them.  Night is more comfortable since the air is cooler, and that is of course quite relative.

Lately thought it is just something for my dog, Rack, the McNab SuperDog (TM) to leap over when he's

excitedly running circles around the yard and the pool and out to the portal in the front gate to see who is there.

Portals help.  It entertains the dog.  Entertained dogs are good dogs.  Herding dogs need to be mentally stimulated just like they need to be able to run off some of that energy from time to time.

Lettie used to have a portal that I created in the Laundry Room door.  It was completely frosted glass panes and Jalousie windows, since replaced.  I removed two of the slats at the bottom and replaced them with clear panes so she could go out there and watch the world.

Trust me she did.

She's gone, the door was replaced with fully frosted impact glass, and Rack has the front door to look out of anyway.

Things certainly change in five years.  The weather is about to change.  And for now, Rack's happy to watch out the front door.   He watches for his favorite people, and whines quietly as they walk past.  He also gets all bent out of shape when any sort of delivery comes through.  I think that is a requirement of Dog.  When Dog is selected and the soul inhabits the creature, there is a little subroutine written.  Delivery Truck requires Alert.  Luckily, Herding Dogs are easy to train and a simple "Go Look!" works. 

No, nobody is out there, is there?

But that would be a story for a different day wouldn't it?

The Story of Santa Clothes and the Lump of Coal

A comment flew by me this morning that tripped a memory of a while back.

When you are a kid, one of the things you want the least are clothes for the holidays.

Oh sure, you need them, but they're not exactly exciting.  At least now.  I remember an old picture of right after World War 2 in the rubble of a bombed out building, there was a child who was clutching a brand new pair of shoes as if it were the crown jewels he had just been given.  So be thankful that you can have that sort of a First World Problem, young child...

I know, get off the soap box, big guy, right?

Anyway, my nephew was another one of those kids.  I was like it and so was my sister, his mom. 

"Uncah Beewl!  Santa Claus is coming soon and I am getting toys!"

Yeah he had that kids twang to his voice.  Uncah Beewl.  For the record, I never liked being called "Uncle Bill" because it reminded me of that horribly saccharine show Family Affair from back in the 1960s on US Television.   I had told my nephew it was ok, just call me Bill, but it didn't stick.

"Are you now?" I asked

I was then treated to the excitement of a little pre-school boy telling me a list of toys and what he wanted to do to them.  Of course I was going to have a bit of fun with him.

"But, I heard you were getting a lump of coal!  Are you sure?  Maybe it is Santa Clothes who is coming, not Santa Claus?"

"NO! No lump of coal!  NOOOO!  No Santa Clothes!"

"But I heard that you were getting a lump of coal and some new clothes.  Socks and T Shirts for school."

"You silly, Uncah Beewl!  No Santa Clothes! Noooo!  No lump of coal!  Toys!"

I swear the kid believed me, but hey he was young still!  "See, Santa Clothes comes when Santa Claus can't.  Santa Clothes brings good boys and girls the clothes they need to go out in the world and be with their friends!  You are a good boy, right?"

I got the strongest "YES!" I could ever get from a kid.

"So you will get some clothes for the holidays then.  I will tell Santa Clothes that he can come and you will get socks and ..."

"NOOOOOO!  NO Santa Clothes, Uncah Beewl!  No clothes for Christmahahahahs!" 

He was on the edge of crying, I needed to back off a bit.  "We will see.  Maybe I can get to Santa and see what he can do.  But remember the holidays are soon and the sleigh is packed!"

My sister thought I had lost my mind, she may be right, it might have slid out my ear and rolled under the couch somewhere.

So when the day arrived I had found some items.  Wrapped in a nice pretty box was a bunch of kids socks.  Yep, had to do it.  Along with it was a separate box of a lump of black licorice candy that looked like a lump of coal.

Jon was not downstairs yet, so I slipped the two items front and center under the tree. 

He came down, spotted the pretty little box with the lump of coal inside of it and opened it.

"Jon!  It's a lump of coal!  Isn't that great!"

"No Uncah Beewl!  Not great!"
"But look closer!  It's not a lump of coal!  It is candy!"

Jon perked up.  He opened the candy up and had a smile on his face when he tasted the stuff.   I see he had the same like for Licorice as I do.

"There's another box, Jon, go for it!"

Ok, not so happy about getting a box of socks are you?

"Jon, come here"  He was pouting thinking that his holiday gifts were over.  I had to make this right.

"Come on out to the Jeep.  I caught up with Santa but he said he was late and could I bring things to you personally? "

Jon's eyes were huge and he got real excited.

"Lets go to the Jeep!" 

We trundled out to the big grey CJ7 that was parked in front of the house.  I remember some ice on the driveway that I skidded over.  I opened the tail gate on the car, and Jon got another big present.

This was the year of the fire engine.  My sister hated that thing, just like mom did. 

But it was Perfect!

Santa and the lump of coal aside, this Fire Engine was big, and Sturdy, and when you pushed it, the siren would sound.  It was the hit of the year.  In fact it was the hit of the next couple years.

He went from being a pouty toddler to being completely happy with what he had. 

The next couple years became a tradition.  Until he was around 18, Jon would get some licorice candy in the shape of a lump of coal.  A couple years I even got it back.

Good licorice candy too!

So the moral of the lesson was to calm down and Uncah Beewl will make it right.

And lumps of coal can be tasty too!

Happy holidays folks.  Glad you could share this fractured memory of days gone by in the prairies of South Jersey.

Time To Rebuild My Skates

I've done this before. 

I have skated 21,000 miles.  Elite Inline Fitness Skater.  I've taken a long break from the sport.  There's practically nobody doing it any more, except us "hard core" group who do it because we enjoy it.

That and your kids.

But it's not like it was back around 2000 when there were races and competitions and you would trip over people trying to get into a shop.

For a brief time I was even sponsored, although that could be stretching it a bit.   I had a relationship with a skate shop in Philadelphia who would give me some gear from time to time to try out and report back how it worked out.  Not too much, mind you.  T-Shirts, of course.  Water Bottles, but everyone had those.  Deep discounts on parts like wheels and bearings.  Some free bearings that I liked so much that I kept them clean, lubed, and used them for over a year and well into the second year.

A year then was 2000 miles plus.  My peak week was a week I took vacation to simply skate. 

204 Miles in 7 days.

Seriously.

I've introduced people to the sport.  Served as a coach and trainer for others.  Even got paid to train people which was a serious ego boost.  Enjoyed Skating more than just about any physical activity that you can do in public.  Had a resting heart rate of 42 BPM as a result.

But lately I've come back.  Skating in Florida is different.   There is no park here like the Schuylkill River Trail.  I've skated from the Rocky Steps at the Philadelphia Museum of Art to Valley Forge and back a number of times.  That is 20 to 30 miles of "Black Ice".  Smooth asphalt complete with regular Water Stops.

There was one trip that I came around a bend in Valley Forge and spotted a Buck.  A Deer.  Pointy things on its head.  He spotted me and trotted beside me for about a half mile at my speed.  We looked back and forth at each other enjoying the workout and parted friends.

That sort of thing doesn't happen often, does it?

Here I find myself going to Pompano Airpark in Pompano Beach.  Meh.  Better than most, at least it is safe.  4.5 mile loop of table top flat asphalt with a water stop at start and middle.  Not exactly exciting but ... well it works.

After a while though, you find yourself thinking it's time to rework things.  The wheels get flat spotted.  In the 94 degree heat and direct sun, the polystyrene compound breaks down on the black pavement that you could cook an egg on.  Where I got 50 to 200 miles on the wheels in the cooler conditions of Philadelphia, I am lucky to get 10 out of them here.

Swap the wheels out, especially the all important rear wheel - the Push Wheel that wears out on your power stroke faster than all the rest. 

Look at the bearings.  Wipe off the dust and road grit.  Hold the center spindle in your fingers carefully and see if they spin free.

Nope.  I thought so.  I was out with my dog Rack skating around the neighborhood the other day and thought I was being held back by the bearings.  Takes too much effort to move forward, may as well skate with a parachute.

Take a pin to flick the C Spring clip out.  Then spin the shield around that looks like an aluminum pancake with a hole in the middle and pop it out of the bearing.  Flip the bearing and repeat.  Spin the bearing and see if it is free spinning.  Drop it in a plastic container for later.

Repeat for each wheel.  10 wheels for the racing skates.  8 wheels for the cruising skates.  Two bearings per wheel plus a speed kit in the middle to hold it all together.  36 bearings, 72 O Rings and C Clips.

Do a few extra in case there will be a problem.  Throw out all the sealed bearings because they can't be rebuilt.  It all comes out in the wash.

The Wash is when you pour Citrus Degreaser on all bearings and shake vigorously for about a minute.  The degreaser goes from a pale orange to black.  All those miles melt into the bottom of the plastic cup.

Triple rinse the bearings in water to loosen more grease, grit, and degreaser.  Bang them out on a paper towel to par-dry so they don't rust.

Then take them to the hair dryer that everyone has hidden in the back of the cabinets.  Don't have one?  Stop off at the thrift store and get one for this purpose.  It has to have a metal mesh on the air outlet.  The mesh has to be flat.  Put as many bearings on the mesh as fit.  Turn it on full blast and get the bearings as hot as you can.  That will boil off the last of the water.

Repeat for 36 bearings.

Reassemble the bearings.   One shield, one C Clip.

Snap!

Lay it out on a paper towel and drop 3 drops of Tri-Flex Teflon Lube on the bearing. 

Repeat for 36 bearings.

Put the other shield and C Clip back on.  Spin to test. 

Ahhh, silky smooth!

Each wheel gets one bearing per side, and a speed kit.

Slide the wheels in the skate "truck" that holds them to the boot.

Now, you are good.  Another 200 miles per bearing rebuild if the conditions are average.  If you can hear them get loud, rebuild them. 

Two and a half hours of rebuilding, snapping, lubing, and reconstruction.  They're not doing this sort of thing any more.  Want to know why? 

Skating is still fun.  Even in 94 degree 75% humidity Florida heat.

Gliding over Black Ice at up to 15 MPH.  4 Minute Miles.  Slower when the wind comes in off the ocean.

That makes that afternoon well spent.  The knowledge that I will be able to go out and have the park practically to myself flying free in the sun.

Feel like a workout?  I'll slow down for you.  I'll even give you some tips.  There was this time where I was at mile 20 when I burned through all my breakfast and needed a rest and there was the most beautiful sunrise over the city of Philadelphia.

You'll be surprised what you will see on 8 wheels.  10 wheels if you're lucky.

Rack Hates It When I Sleep In

Every so often you just get a little tired.  You think to yourself, boy it would be great to sleep in a little tomorrow morning.

The schedule allows it, so why not, right?

Not so fast, sunshine.

See, I'm used to getting up at 5AM.  I'm not sure why, most likely it's because I was getting up in Philly to get to Fairmount Park on the weekends to train on my inline skates in summer.  It would get me to the park by sunrise, maybe a little before, and I could get in the workout before the charity walks would start. 

Charity Walks plus "regular park use" do not mesh well.  I gave up on that at one point and went out to the Schuylkill River Trail starting at the City Line and skating past Valley Forge to Oaks at the Perkiomen River Bridge. 

Even now, I'm up earlier than I really have to because it's "normal". 

As we all know, Normal is just a setting on a dryer.

This particular morning I slept in.  6:30.  Oooh, such a slacker!  Up only 30 minutes before Sunrise!

The result is that things just got pushed later, including breakfast.

Rack doesn't like that.  You see, herding dogs are creatures of habit.  Even more than I am, Rack does things in specific orders at specific times.  By 9AM, he's sitting in his crate becoming one with it until pretty much Dinner Hour.

If you ever wondered what your dogs do while you're gone, it's probably very little with a few exceptions.  People at the door and the UPS truck.  Both of them make my boy Rack grow a pair and let loose a tirade of barking that sounds like a cross between a Yodeling contest and a Machine Gun.

Fearful Dogs can bark too.  Yodeling barks usually mean fear.

A bit late, I wandered into the kitchen and started making breakfast and the second mug of coffee.   I'm beginning to master the art of standing in one place and reaching over the dog to get things done.  I am joined in there by 45 pounds of mostly black fur and two twin brown laser beams staring me down.

Why?  Yogurt.  He loves my yogurt to the point where it effects how much he will eat of his regular food.  I know that because when I stopped feeding him yogurt, two things immediately happened.  He began to eat more, and got more insistent in wanting yogurt.

Candy for dogs is bad, yogurt good.  Go fig!  Moderation in everything is best, little guy.


The kettle begins to scream for attention.  Looking down I see Rack less than a foot from my foot.  I step over him, get the kettle and pour the hot water into the French Press.  Give it a stir and I'm able to finish breakfast.

Until I open that 2 quart Mason jar of plain yogurt that finished brewing the other day.  He's up begging.  Playing it cool, I ignore him until there's only a tablespoon left in the bottom of the bowl.  Of course I had to make sure that all the Mango was gone from the bottom.  He hates Mango.  I must have the only dog in the world that does.

I'm back at fussing over the coffee and cleaning up the morning spills.   I hear padding feet back and forth pacing furiously.

It's his way of saying Damnit Let's Go! 

I get the rest of the things done, turn around away from the sink and I notice that my left side is smoking.  Smouldering from the twin brown laser beams vying for attention.  Intensity, thy name is Rack.

I say one word only.  "What?".

He gets up and trots to the back door.   "OK, let me get my coffee" I say as I see the tip of the tail wagging in the distance in response.

Open the door.  Two steps forward and he freezes.  There was a trash truck over at the businesses a block

away. 

"Oh fer!  Come on Rack, come on out."  He doesn't really go very far.  I had to do a perimeter search anyway.   Getting to the far side of the property, Rack is still sitting at the door.

"Come on over here, boy!".  Head down, he comes around the pool and visits.  The truck had moved on and we are all clear except the FEC train going North out of Miami blowing its whistle to get people off the tracks a mile or so away.  That never bothered him before.

I ask him to Show Me and he trots back to the house.  I give up.

You see, what it is is that at 5AM it's a very different world out there, no matter where you are.  The world is still asleep.  It's quiet and restful.  Cotton candy clouds and stars like jewels sparkling in the skies and precious little else.  That's what a fearful dog needs.  Just a little bit of excitement.  Too much is like putting too much pepper in the soup - it won't be right.

Oh well, life moves on and adapts, little pup, and you're getting stronger too.  Some day, little guy, you'll be fine.  Until then you will just have to come to me when that big bad trash truck scares you. 

Ok, lets go back inside.  I think there's some yogurt left in the bowl.

My Old Florida Heater

According to the almanac, which ever one it was that I saw it in, we do get a "winter".

It is all of two weeks long.

Or as a good friend of mine is fond of saying:  We do get all of the seasons here, just not the ones that stink.

Change that last word to something maybe a little more harsh for accuracy.  Four letters, still starts with an S.

Yeah, that one.

But it is two weeks long.

My own Cherry Hill, NJ would descend into Fall somewhere around mid October, Freezing temperatures in December, but sometimes not until New Years.

Give or take a bit.

It would warm up to spring in late April, and by June we were in the mid to upper 80s.

If Memory Serves Me Right.

With Global Warming, that may be shorter, you'll have to ask someone who stayed behind.

Yes, there is Global Warming, No, being a Republican does not excuse you from that.

The weather up there gave me a lot of time to be indoors.  After all, you didn't really want to be out in all that cold slop did you?

We had a house with a gas heater.  It was about as tall as a full grown man, so to my childhood size, it was big.  There were six large burners in it that ran front to back, and were about three feet long.  Just shy of a meter.

When it kicked off, it would FWOOMPF! and light up solid from the back to front.  There was a port hole that fascinated me as a kid because Bright! and Hot!, Daddy! 

To me a heater should be that big.  Especially something meant to heat up a split level home.  Those houses weren't all that efficient to heat or cool.

But down here I hear rumors of some hearty souls that brave our long two week long Winters and month long Spring and Autumn, yes, you guessed it, Without A Heater!

Hey, it gets all the way down to 34 here!

When they replaced our heating and cooling the other day, I took the chance to take some pictures.  The pictures came only when I looked in and was surprised just how little things were.

That picture is actually my entire heater. 

Entire.

It's about six inches square.  Look at the palm of your hand and spread your fingers as wide as you can get them.  About that big.

That's all.  Two layers of "resistance heating". 

I think I have had floor heaters that were larger.  You know, those things that women would stash under their desks in office buildings because they have already put on three sweaters and it's cold in there will youturnupTHAT DAMN HEAT!

Those women.  Five minutes later and they're complaining it's too hot.

But here, that dinky little six inch square of wires?  That's it.  That heats my house.  1200 square feet, a whole 110 square meters.  Two bedrooms, 1 bath. 

I was fascinated by it like a Great Dane would be with a Kitten.

A KITTEN!????  Awwwww!

Yes, a heater, er a kitten.

Classic White Bread or a Clone Of Wonder Bread? You Decide

I finished up the "pressing tasks" of the morning rather early.  Happens when you're up almost two hours before sunrise as a normal habit.

I was debating what I wanted for breakfast and realized that everything I wanted needed to be baked.

I'd have something else, but I would make everything later.

I ended up baking some Cream Biscuits for Biscuits and Sausage Gravy for the next day, and a Pizza In a Skillet for lunch. 

But I realized that I finally had enough room in the freezer to make up a batch of rolls. 

Since I was sitting at the computer doing some decidedly random surfing, my mind turned to Reddit because it had been in the news lately, and I started hitting some random subreddits within the site.  Each "subreddit" is an old school list of topics that people can write about.

Ending up on a subreddit devoted to recipes that are clones of commercial foods that we all enjoy, I started reading Mimic Recipes.

There are a host of things there that I will be trying, but I did find something to help with my need for rolls.  I was intrigued by a Wonder Bread clone recipe. 

Yes, Wonder Bread.  That "stuff" that you feed your kids.  When it goes stale, if it ever goes stale, it makes good to excellent French Toast.  A whole generation was raised on Peanut Butter and Grape Jelly, on Wonder Bread.

The last time I had the stuff it tasted ... like air.  I had grown used to thick crusted rolls with actual flavor.  "Ethnic foods" changed my preferences.

I wondered how close to the old Wonder Bread I could come with this recipe.  Even Wonder Bread isn't the same as I remember it.  The crusts were rather strongly flavored when I was a kid, in my own memory.  The Bread itself would be great to roll up into a dough ball and chew but there wasn't a particularly strong taste.

I have to say, this recipe pretty much nails the crust taste, but the inside had a light flavor that wasn't bad. 

I didn't have the semolina flour that was called for so my own recipe used the commercial All Purpose bread flour that I keep on hand. 

In 25 pound bags.  Cheaper that way.  It also reduced the price of these rolls to about 7 cents a piece.  Maybe a buck a batch give or take.

I guess the idea is that sometimes you want a crusty roll to make a hoagie, other times you want a thin and soft crust roll for a PB&J or other sandwich. 

Will I make it again?  Sure, not bad.  After all, the company did get bought up after it went bankrupt and their bread is being sold everywhere just like the good old days.  Someone out there must like the stuff!

Call it a "Classic White Bread" recipe and skip all the double talk, it was pretty darn good last night with dinner.

Ingredients:

• 1 1/4 cups Water
• 4 1/2 teaspoons Dry Yeast
• 2 Tablespoons Sugar
• 2 teaspoons Salt
• 1/4 cup unsalted Butter, Melted
• 4 cups unbleached all-purpose Flour
• 1/4 cup Semolina Flour - Or just substitute 1/4 more all purpose Flour
• Melted Butter for Glazing

Process:

• Process Ingredients on Dough Cycle In Machine or alternately use mixer with dough hook.
• Gently Deflate dough
• Form into an oblong loaf and place in lightly greased 9" by 5" loaf pan.
• Place the entire loaf pan in a large plastic bag to allow it to rise - or other enclosed space like a cool microwave oven.
• Allow to rise until the dough is about 1 inch above the pan rim.
• Brush with Melted Butter.
• Preheat Oven to 350F.
• Bake 30 to 35 minutes until evenly browned.