Page Two Hundred-Nine.
I'm sometimes surprised by people's lack of knowledge concerning world religions, or their own religion even. A while ago, I found myself trying to educate a friend on the fact that Jews don't give up anything for Lent. He simply wouldn't hear my explanation. He just "knew" that Lent is an American secular season which is practiced by anybody who wants to express their appreciation to Jesus for dying on that cross 2000 years ago. He recognized it's origins in religion, Christianity specifically, but was convinced that nowadays religion had nothing to do with it. I was stunned by his ignorance.
Along similar lines, quite recently I found myself talking with a devout Protestant about Martin Luther. I was explaining to her that prior to 500 year ago, there was no such thing as Catholicism or Protestantism. Every Christian was what we would refer to today as Catholic. Then this priest, Martin Luther, came along and virtually invented the Protestant movement. Her response? "I'm going to ask my minister about this. He knows so much about church history, he's just so smart." I thought to myself, "Why didn't this woman learn about the Reformation in 7th grade world history?"
One day, a few years back, an acquaintance couldn't understand how Jews could believe in God if they didn't simultaneously believe in Jesus. "You see, Jesus is God, so if they don't believe in Jesus then they don't believe in God." Maybe I simply know really uneducated people. Perhaps that's it.
I believe that if comparative religion were required learning, world-wide, we'd have much less war.
Sunday, March 30, 2014
Friday, March 28, 2014
Avicii
Page Two Hundred-Eight.
The only thing on my mind today is Avicii's music. Boy it's great. Seriously, I'm not thinking about anything else right now. I need to get that CD. Bye for now.
The only thing on my mind today is Avicii's music. Boy it's great. Seriously, I'm not thinking about anything else right now. I need to get that CD. Bye for now.
Thursday, March 27, 2014
Home Made Hamburger Helper
Page Two Hundred-Seven.
Much easier than you ever thought and so good it would convert a Humanist to Orthodox Judaism.
Make some homemade Mac 'n Cheese. Use your favorite recipe, but it really needs to be homemade. I suppose you could start with The Blue Box or something along those lines, but really, the more authentic the Mac 'n Cheese, the better the final product. Now, brown some ground beef. Drain it and add it to the Mac. Finally, toss in some diced tomatoes. Stir, pour into a casserole and bake for a while. (325-350 degrees, 20-25 minutes. 'Till it seems done) Enjoy.
If I had to guess amounts, I'd figure that if you were making this for 6-8, then start with 1 pound of elbow macaroni and the appropriate 4 or so cups of cheese sauce. To that, perhaps add 2 pounds of ground beef and one large can of diced tomatoes. But really, this is one of those things which simply cannot be ruined.
Of course this can be personalized. Like Tex-Mex? Add some finely diced chiles, cumin, diced bell peppers or what have you to the ground beef while sauteing. Then add to the other ingredients as usual. Serve with taco sauce. It'll be good. Like Hungarian? Saute a little too many onions and garlic in with the ground beef. Serve with sour cream and a liberal sprinkle of paprika. Yum-Yum. Like French? Add escargot and serve with red wine and a sneer. You'll think you're in a Parisian cafe.
Much easier than you ever thought and so good it would convert a Humanist to Orthodox Judaism.
Make some homemade Mac 'n Cheese. Use your favorite recipe, but it really needs to be homemade. I suppose you could start with The Blue Box or something along those lines, but really, the more authentic the Mac 'n Cheese, the better the final product. Now, brown some ground beef. Drain it and add it to the Mac. Finally, toss in some diced tomatoes. Stir, pour into a casserole and bake for a while. (325-350 degrees, 20-25 minutes. 'Till it seems done) Enjoy.
If I had to guess amounts, I'd figure that if you were making this for 6-8, then start with 1 pound of elbow macaroni and the appropriate 4 or so cups of cheese sauce. To that, perhaps add 2 pounds of ground beef and one large can of diced tomatoes. But really, this is one of those things which simply cannot be ruined.
Of course this can be personalized. Like Tex-Mex? Add some finely diced chiles, cumin, diced bell peppers or what have you to the ground beef while sauteing. Then add to the other ingredients as usual. Serve with taco sauce. It'll be good. Like Hungarian? Saute a little too many onions and garlic in with the ground beef. Serve with sour cream and a liberal sprinkle of paprika. Yum-Yum. Like French? Add escargot and serve with red wine and a sneer. You'll think you're in a Parisian cafe.
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
Quito. Chapter 1. The Fireball
Page Two Hundred-Six.
Quito died recently, Friday, March 7th, 2014, 6PM, to be exact. The world lost one special doggy in that one, lemme tell ya. Now that he's gone though, his secrets can finally be told. And I'm just the person to tell 'em. Here goes.
Quito was a 50 pound, poly-breed, long-haired black and white thing whom I dog-sat whenever his pet humans were out-of-town. He resembled a Collie, preferred The Who over Led Zeppelin, knew 6 languages fluently* was 12 when he died and had quite a life. Few people knew his clandestine affairs, but he shared them with me while we were alone in his rather large, contemporary, pink champagne beige, brick Shaker Heights home during all those extended weekends.
His humans are world travelers; they're royalty. Their cousins, Clair, Hannah, Evelyn and Grant along with their dog, Harli-Monster, are rulers of a European country which must, obviously, remain anonymous. But, those 5 have no direct heirs so these four children, Quito's humans, are going to be taking over the throne one day. All you really need to know for right now are their names: Jordan is the baby girl (who's now 7), then Jackson (8), Thomas (14), finally William is the crown prince (15). They're beautiful and charming children who's down to earth demeanor belies their upper crust, blue blood, royal status.
Parents found Quito in the Rubbermaid garbage can one morning. Plain and simple. Seems he'd crawled in one night looking for food, then couldn't get out. What a humble beginning to one of the most auspicious lives of the 21st century. He was about 10-12 weeks old when found but 5 months old when he began developing his super-powers.
William and Thomas were very little that August day when they took Quito outside and were ho-humming through a game of Twister with him in the steamy, hot sunshine. Nena was singing about 99 Luftballons on the outdoor Victrola. The smell of freshly shaved grass was in the air as Ippolitto & Sons had just finished cutting the large emerald green expanse of backyard. The three of them were excitedly looking forward to the Feast of the Assumption street festival they'd be attending a few days later.
"I can't wait to eat the scrumptious fried calamari," piped baby Thomas. "If I shan't get my bellyfull of those luscious ringed morsels, I shan throw a tantrum like Parents never experienced. I mean from me anyhoo."
"I'm anticipating with great glee the elephant ears with extra Vietnamese cinnamon sprinkled atop," squeaked young Prince William. "I do believe Vietnam grows the best cinnamon, don't you Quito?"
"Heavens to Murgatroyd! Who cares about cinnamon? I want the homemade sausage pizza," woofed Quito.
They proceeded to have an overly animated conversation about which food would taste the best. Then it happened. There was a quick flash in the atmosphere above and they all looked up just in time to see a fireball the size of a scoop of pralines and cream gelato come flying down out of nowhere, well the sky really, and land right near the Twister board. Quito went close, but not too close, to the still flaming ball because he wanted to protect the boys, yet investigate also. After a moment, the flame went out but the heat scorched a bit of grass which gradually grew to the approximate size and shape of a red, felt Christmas tree skirt with white furry trim; the kind you might purchase from K-Mart. Quito was standing in that spot while it happened. He felt no burn, instead just a slight stinging sensation in each foot; a stinging similar to the shot of penicillin you get in response to a positive strep throat culture. It barely registered with him at the time.
(Let me interrupt myself right here and now. I'm relating this story as Quito told me. I've never had any reason to question it.)
So later that evening, after changing Thomas's very smelly diaper, rapping Tone Loc's "Funky Cold Medina" to William and changing the burned out bulb in the boys' bedroom night light, he began noticing a taste in his mouth. The taste was definitely that of Hamburger Helper, but more effervescent somehow. Could it be? Yes! it was... the taste was homemade Hamburger Helper. "Oh great! And here I am on a low-carb diet" he barked to himself. But he could just smell the cheesy, gooeyness. It was too late in the evening by that time though and he didn't feel like starting a project like that at this late hour. "I'll make some tomorrow" he thought. He then put out Penny, the Maine Coon cat; turned off the Victrola, now playing Springsteen; left a note for the milkman to leave extra cheddar cheese and went to sleep.
Next morning started and he absolutely knew something was different.
To be continued next week... Chapter 2: Quito the Astro-Pup
*Languages which Quito was fluent in: English; Spanish; Arabic; French; Russian; Chinese.
Quito died recently, Friday, March 7th, 2014, 6PM, to be exact. The world lost one special doggy in that one, lemme tell ya. Now that he's gone though, his secrets can finally be told. And I'm just the person to tell 'em. Here goes.
Quito was a 50 pound, poly-breed, long-haired black and white thing whom I dog-sat whenever his pet humans were out-of-town. He resembled a Collie, preferred The Who over Led Zeppelin, knew 6 languages fluently* was 12 when he died and had quite a life. Few people knew his clandestine affairs, but he shared them with me while we were alone in his rather large, contemporary, pink champagne beige, brick Shaker Heights home during all those extended weekends.
His humans are world travelers; they're royalty. Their cousins, Clair, Hannah, Evelyn and Grant along with their dog, Harli-Monster, are rulers of a European country which must, obviously, remain anonymous. But, those 5 have no direct heirs so these four children, Quito's humans, are going to be taking over the throne one day. All you really need to know for right now are their names: Jordan is the baby girl (who's now 7), then Jackson (8), Thomas (14), finally William is the crown prince (15). They're beautiful and charming children who's down to earth demeanor belies their upper crust, blue blood, royal status.
Parents found Quito in the Rubbermaid garbage can one morning. Plain and simple. Seems he'd crawled in one night looking for food, then couldn't get out. What a humble beginning to one of the most auspicious lives of the 21st century. He was about 10-12 weeks old when found but 5 months old when he began developing his super-powers.
William and Thomas were very little that August day when they took Quito outside and were ho-humming through a game of Twister with him in the steamy, hot sunshine. Nena was singing about 99 Luftballons on the outdoor Victrola. The smell of freshly shaved grass was in the air as Ippolitto & Sons had just finished cutting the large emerald green expanse of backyard. The three of them were excitedly looking forward to the Feast of the Assumption street festival they'd be attending a few days later.
"I can't wait to eat the scrumptious fried calamari," piped baby Thomas. "If I shan't get my bellyfull of those luscious ringed morsels, I shan throw a tantrum like Parents never experienced. I mean from me anyhoo."
"I'm anticipating with great glee the elephant ears with extra Vietnamese cinnamon sprinkled atop," squeaked young Prince William. "I do believe Vietnam grows the best cinnamon, don't you Quito?"
"Heavens to Murgatroyd! Who cares about cinnamon? I want the homemade sausage pizza," woofed Quito.
They proceeded to have an overly animated conversation about which food would taste the best. Then it happened. There was a quick flash in the atmosphere above and they all looked up just in time to see a fireball the size of a scoop of pralines and cream gelato come flying down out of nowhere, well the sky really, and land right near the Twister board. Quito went close, but not too close, to the still flaming ball because he wanted to protect the boys, yet investigate also. After a moment, the flame went out but the heat scorched a bit of grass which gradually grew to the approximate size and shape of a red, felt Christmas tree skirt with white furry trim; the kind you might purchase from K-Mart. Quito was standing in that spot while it happened. He felt no burn, instead just a slight stinging sensation in each foot; a stinging similar to the shot of penicillin you get in response to a positive strep throat culture. It barely registered with him at the time.
(Let me interrupt myself right here and now. I'm relating this story as Quito told me. I've never had any reason to question it.)
So later that evening, after changing Thomas's very smelly diaper, rapping Tone Loc's "Funky Cold Medina" to William and changing the burned out bulb in the boys' bedroom night light, he began noticing a taste in his mouth. The taste was definitely that of Hamburger Helper, but more effervescent somehow. Could it be? Yes! it was... the taste was homemade Hamburger Helper. "Oh great! And here I am on a low-carb diet" he barked to himself. But he could just smell the cheesy, gooeyness. It was too late in the evening by that time though and he didn't feel like starting a project like that at this late hour. "I'll make some tomorrow" he thought. He then put out Penny, the Maine Coon cat; turned off the Victrola, now playing Springsteen; left a note for the milkman to leave extra cheddar cheese and went to sleep.
Next morning started and he absolutely knew something was different.
To be continued next week... Chapter 2: Quito the Astro-Pup
*Languages which Quito was fluent in: English; Spanish; Arabic; French; Russian; Chinese.
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
On Getting A Haircut At A Barber School
Page Two Hundred Five.
I go to a barber school to get my haircut. I know that may sound weird considering the fact that I manage a beauty salon. You'd figure I'd get my haircut right at work. But many years ago I worked at a salon which was recognized by Clairol International as being one of the 3 finest salons in Northeast Ohio. While there, all my co-workers and I were encouraged to go elsewhere to have our hair done. The thinking was, observe how much better we are than our competition and if you do see something they do better, we should know about it.
I still live by that rule. It makes sense. And by going to a school, I get to practice my interpersonal communication skills. The vast majority of all problems in a beauty salon can be traced back to poor communication between client and stylist. Either the client didn't explain properly what was desired or the hairdresser wasn't listening properly. By going to a school I'm constantly getting somebody new; someone who's never done my hair before. I have to start from scratch each time. It keeps me on my toes and aware of the importance of language so I can be more objective on my job.
I never tell them that I'm a hairdresser going on 33 years, beauty salon manager or licensed cosmetology instructor. That would intimidate them waaaaaay to much. They only know that I'm a private chef (who's currently unemployed). I typically get a haircut which is either perfectly correct or very close. And let me tell you, some of those students are fresh and new. I've been one of the first haircuts a couple of them ever gave.
As long as I explain properly, as long as they listen properly, I'm not too concerned about technical ability. I'd suggest to anybody that they be very aware of how they explain themselves when in a beauty salon or barber shop. Words are so important there.
I go to a barber school to get my haircut. I know that may sound weird considering the fact that I manage a beauty salon. You'd figure I'd get my haircut right at work. But many years ago I worked at a salon which was recognized by Clairol International as being one of the 3 finest salons in Northeast Ohio. While there, all my co-workers and I were encouraged to go elsewhere to have our hair done. The thinking was, observe how much better we are than our competition and if you do see something they do better, we should know about it.
I still live by that rule. It makes sense. And by going to a school, I get to practice my interpersonal communication skills. The vast majority of all problems in a beauty salon can be traced back to poor communication between client and stylist. Either the client didn't explain properly what was desired or the hairdresser wasn't listening properly. By going to a school I'm constantly getting somebody new; someone who's never done my hair before. I have to start from scratch each time. It keeps me on my toes and aware of the importance of language so I can be more objective on my job.
I never tell them that I'm a hairdresser going on 33 years, beauty salon manager or licensed cosmetology instructor. That would intimidate them waaaaaay to much. They only know that I'm a private chef (who's currently unemployed). I typically get a haircut which is either perfectly correct or very close. And let me tell you, some of those students are fresh and new. I've been one of the first haircuts a couple of them ever gave.
As long as I explain properly, as long as they listen properly, I'm not too concerned about technical ability. I'd suggest to anybody that they be very aware of how they explain themselves when in a beauty salon or barber shop. Words are so important there.
Monday, March 24, 2014
Enough Caffeine For You?
Page Two Hundred Four.
In 2005, my doctor took me off caffeine for the rest of my life. I'm allowed to cheat in very low moderation, perhaps a couple of cups of coffee per month, but that's about it. Caffeine irritates my kidneys so Doc doesn't me want to tempt fate. I agree with him. So for the last 9 years I've lived primarily caffeine free.
I'm an exceedingly high energy person naturally. So living sans-caf is not a big deal for me. And, like I say, I'm allowed to cheat occasionally, if I really am tired. But what all this really means is I've become quite aware of caffeine and it's place in contemporary American society. (I'm aware of it since I can't have it. Funny how that works.)
Which came first: the tremendous growth of coffee houses or America's lack of sleep? We all know that Americans sleep 3-5 hours less per night now than we did 100 years ago. Of course a lot of that is because we don't live on farms and do hard labor all day long. So we simply don't need 10-11 hours of sleep per night. But the fact remains that the human body does intrinsically require 7-8 hours of sleep per 24 hour period. That's just how we were designed. Unfortunately many people under-sleep. Subsequently, lots 'o caffeine. There's currently an epidemic of sleep deprivation and increased caffeine consumption in America.
What's the chicken and what's the egg? Are the 2 related? Why or why not? What about the fact that Americans work as much nowadays as we did 100 years ago, just not on farms? What about the fact that our current national lack of sleep is exceptionally unhealthy and probably contributing to our obesity problem? And what if Napoleon had B-52 bombers at Waterloo? Would we all be speaking French today? Oui?
As a kid, I was an elite sleeper. I would definitely have qualified for the Olympics if sleeping were a sport. Through my 20's though, I gradually evolved into a lighter and lighter sleeper. One time the cat walking into my bedroom woke me up. Then one day when I was 31, quite literally "overnight", I stopped sleeping soundly. That night I woke up at 2 AM and couldn't get back to sleep. Since then, I've never gone back to my childhood sleep patterns.
I read everything I could find on sleep. All research suggests that the most effective way to achieve sleep is exercise. Subsequently, I joined my gym when I was 35 (1997) and have been going 3-5 X per week ever since. Also, I walk or run for pleasure/exercise whenever possible. I'll tell you, it works. If I don't get to the gym for a few days, I immediately revert back and may only sleep 4 hours, generating ideas for this blog the other 4 hours that I'm laying in bed.
I'll tell you what else I've discovered. The day Doc took me off caffeine I started sleeping about 25% more. Turns out that caf has a rebound effect. It lounges around the body for much longer than we realize. (All doctors know this.) When I do treat myself to real coffee or heaven help me, my favorite Coca Cola, I'm much less likely to sleep soundly, even if I've exercised my tushy off. Conversely, If I stop exercising but don't do any caf at all, I'll still sleep more soundly than I did in 1995.
I tell people my story if they share with me their sleep problems. I know from first hand experience that sleep can be had if desired. Of course if people don't want sleep, well... that's a different situation. I recently watched Ellen Degeneres' TV show and Arianna Huffington espoused the assets of sleep. For years she thought she had to choose sleep deprivation to get everything done and achieve worldly success. A few years ago though, she redefined her own definition of success and started sleeping more. I think that if somebody like Huffington talks about the assets of sleep on such a forum, we may be seeing a paradigm shift on the need for sleep. After all, why commit slow suicide or increase Mr. Starbucks' stock value by getting less sleep than you require? It just doesn't make sense. (Also, all that caffeine is usually accompanied by much fat and sugar. One more reason for obese America.) Stop the madness!!!
In 2005, my doctor took me off caffeine for the rest of my life. I'm allowed to cheat in very low moderation, perhaps a couple of cups of coffee per month, but that's about it. Caffeine irritates my kidneys so Doc doesn't me want to tempt fate. I agree with him. So for the last 9 years I've lived primarily caffeine free.
I'm an exceedingly high energy person naturally. So living sans-caf is not a big deal for me. And, like I say, I'm allowed to cheat occasionally, if I really am tired. But what all this really means is I've become quite aware of caffeine and it's place in contemporary American society. (I'm aware of it since I can't have it. Funny how that works.)
Which came first: the tremendous growth of coffee houses or America's lack of sleep? We all know that Americans sleep 3-5 hours less per night now than we did 100 years ago. Of course a lot of that is because we don't live on farms and do hard labor all day long. So we simply don't need 10-11 hours of sleep per night. But the fact remains that the human body does intrinsically require 7-8 hours of sleep per 24 hour period. That's just how we were designed. Unfortunately many people under-sleep. Subsequently, lots 'o caffeine. There's currently an epidemic of sleep deprivation and increased caffeine consumption in America.
What's the chicken and what's the egg? Are the 2 related? Why or why not? What about the fact that Americans work as much nowadays as we did 100 years ago, just not on farms? What about the fact that our current national lack of sleep is exceptionally unhealthy and probably contributing to our obesity problem? And what if Napoleon had B-52 bombers at Waterloo? Would we all be speaking French today? Oui?
As a kid, I was an elite sleeper. I would definitely have qualified for the Olympics if sleeping were a sport. Through my 20's though, I gradually evolved into a lighter and lighter sleeper. One time the cat walking into my bedroom woke me up. Then one day when I was 31, quite literally "overnight", I stopped sleeping soundly. That night I woke up at 2 AM and couldn't get back to sleep. Since then, I've never gone back to my childhood sleep patterns.
I read everything I could find on sleep. All research suggests that the most effective way to achieve sleep is exercise. Subsequently, I joined my gym when I was 35 (1997) and have been going 3-5 X per week ever since. Also, I walk or run for pleasure/exercise whenever possible. I'll tell you, it works. If I don't get to the gym for a few days, I immediately revert back and may only sleep 4 hours, generating ideas for this blog the other 4 hours that I'm laying in bed.
I'll tell you what else I've discovered. The day Doc took me off caffeine I started sleeping about 25% more. Turns out that caf has a rebound effect. It lounges around the body for much longer than we realize. (All doctors know this.) When I do treat myself to real coffee or heaven help me, my favorite Coca Cola, I'm much less likely to sleep soundly, even if I've exercised my tushy off. Conversely, If I stop exercising but don't do any caf at all, I'll still sleep more soundly than I did in 1995.
I tell people my story if they share with me their sleep problems. I know from first hand experience that sleep can be had if desired. Of course if people don't want sleep, well... that's a different situation. I recently watched Ellen Degeneres' TV show and Arianna Huffington espoused the assets of sleep. For years she thought she had to choose sleep deprivation to get everything done and achieve worldly success. A few years ago though, she redefined her own definition of success and started sleeping more. I think that if somebody like Huffington talks about the assets of sleep on such a forum, we may be seeing a paradigm shift on the need for sleep. After all, why commit slow suicide or increase Mr. Starbucks' stock value by getting less sleep than you require? It just doesn't make sense. (Also, all that caffeine is usually accompanied by much fat and sugar. One more reason for obese America.) Stop the madness!!!
Friday, March 21, 2014
NuGo Bars
Page Two Hundred Three.
I'm pretty sure I've found the best tasting protein bars. NuGo brand bars are great. I discovered them a couple of years ago I think. I prefer the chocolate-chocolate chip, though in a pinch the mocha will do. They have a very good texture/taste and 10 grams of protein with only 5 grams of fat and 200 calories. They aren't low carb or low sugar. In fact, the reason they're so good is because they're made with real cane sugar and real dark chocolate. But I'll tell you... I trust real God-made ingredients much more than man-made ones which are supposedly "healthier" alternatives. Give me cane sugar any day.
Over the years I've tried so many different nutrition, protein or meal replacement bars, you can't believe it. Some of them really are the texture of pressed horse food. Some taste so bad I actually couldn't finish them. Others aren't too bad. NuGos are the best I've ever had. I have a NuGo bar quite often for breakfast or lunch. They're wonderful and healthy. I highly recommend them.
And no, I don't own stock in the company.
I'm pretty sure I've found the best tasting protein bars. NuGo brand bars are great. I discovered them a couple of years ago I think. I prefer the chocolate-chocolate chip, though in a pinch the mocha will do. They have a very good texture/taste and 10 grams of protein with only 5 grams of fat and 200 calories. They aren't low carb or low sugar. In fact, the reason they're so good is because they're made with real cane sugar and real dark chocolate. But I'll tell you... I trust real God-made ingredients much more than man-made ones which are supposedly "healthier" alternatives. Give me cane sugar any day.
Over the years I've tried so many different nutrition, protein or meal replacement bars, you can't believe it. Some of them really are the texture of pressed horse food. Some taste so bad I actually couldn't finish them. Others aren't too bad. NuGos are the best I've ever had. I have a NuGo bar quite often for breakfast or lunch. They're wonderful and healthy. I highly recommend them.
And no, I don't own stock in the company.
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