Christmas dinner was at our house as usual. A bit larger crowd this year as new "significant others" with offspring were included as well as "other" offspring who were available. Of course that causes us to roughly double the amount of food intended for dinner with two solid weeks of left-over casseroles, potpies, sandwiches, etc, etc etc. The amount of food is not determined by the number of people - the only measurement is roughly "more food than we could possibly eat if we invited the entire Mormon tabernacle choir" which, come to think of it, would have certainly added to my Pandora-sourced Christmas music.
A raucous game of naughty questions was going on in one room; football in another and appetizers, candy, dinner items and desserts were liberally sprinkled throughout the house. Secret Santa was down to seven participants so less insulting than usual. I still think my contribution of the alpaca wool socks was an inspired offering. Again I captured a giant bottle of booze - rum this year, vodka the last. Some kind of pattern apparently though it serves as a backdrop to the 100 bottles of wine we have in the bar.
The day always starts celebrating with our little family of daughter, S-I-L and grandson before the rest of the party arrives in the afternoon. Joseph was forced to revert to his "count to ten" tactic when the number of wrapped packages caught his attention when he arrived causing unbelievable heights of excitement. He proved extremely helpful by unwrapping his gifts, his Mom and Dad's gifts and Grandpa and Nana's. But he is an excellent "recipient" as well examining each offering and asking how it works before going on to the next.
One highlight for me was when Joseph was forced into a debate between a practicing veterinarian and practicing psychologist in identifying the different dinosaurs in the tube of dinosaurs he got from Grandpa. He listened patiently as the others identified the various types as he is used to most people getting them wrong. They even argued with him about the name of one and said there was no such dinosaur. Joseph just kindly pointed out their error, which they did not accept, but sorry, Joe knows his dinosaurs. Yep these professionals were arguing with a 4 year old and he was beating them! LOL
Saturday, January 7, 2017
Friday, December 2, 2016
WHO'S IN THE KITCHEN & WILL WE SURVIVE?
What is it about holidays that brings out the "best of times and the worst of times". Great to see family and enjoy a great meal and fun activities. Followed by the often inevitable attack of the bugs. Winter in close quarters allows people to mingle and share all the germy little creatures that we are blessed with. As with all traditions, we share more than just fellowship and food. Garden and patio parties are much healthier as we can cough, sneeze and spit into the healthy outdoors. Just as the buggies seek warmer places to snuggle during the winter so do people. Close quarters allow things to grow and fester. Ewww. And little people are great transporters. They're kind of like two sided tape by both carrying and catching whatever is nearby.
I am usually the first casualty which if it gets bad enough I get over my guilt at skipping my "intense" exercise routine. Then Burt falls victim - though he blames me. A couple of days of drugs and I'm good. However,,,,, his becomes entrenched in his chest leading to extreme bouts of coughing, gagging, blowing... well you get the picture. At any rate even I cannot expect him to continue the cooking chores - for my own protection - and really he is pretty sick.
Ok - I can cook, I think but I'm not big on planning. Consequently I have become the Queen of casseroles. Several cookbooks are consulted and then I decide if I have the necessary ingredients on hand. Of course not, so I improvise. Chicken stock instead of chicken broth is probably the mildest infraction. Ok and pie crust instead of crescent rolls for the lattice top - it's the same thing right? Some of my other substitutions could be lethal but in small doses are ok. Or leaving stuff out of the recipe shouldn't make that much of a difference right? Then when I presented my latest presentation he confesses he can't taste anything anyway. Hmmm. To test this theory I made a Mexican style meatloaf loaded with salsa, picante and a whole can of green chiles. Couldn't taste a thing but he did compliment me on the nice firmness of the loaf (his meatloaf usually) falls apart. Of course he doesn't know I was using the meat thermometer on Celsius which read 98 degrees and I needed 160 Fahrenheit so technically the meat was over 200 degrees. Damn straight it held together. Actually I don't think it tasted too bad.
At any rate, I hope he gets better soon.
.
THANKSGIVING MEMORIES
Thanksgiving was a little different this year as we did not make our usual madcap dash to the northern reaches of Michigan on Thanksgiving morning. We had this annual trek down and usually traveled up Thursday morning in plenty of time to make the annual food fest. My two issues in winter - bad roads and darkness. Watching the weather reports dictates a Wednesday night departure or Thursday am. Light wins. Often we would return the following day as our Saturday bowling league rarely enjoyed a holiday respite.
There were some harrowing trips Wednesday evening, Thursday or Friday mornings as the weather in late November in Michigan is nothing short of unpredictable. Nothing says family time than facing blowing snow directly in your face for four hours as you count on the tiny reflectors on the side of the road to keep you centered. Or the exciting trip after an ice storm where you swore the tires were coming off the car as we hit ridge after ridge of ice at a speed not conducive to rough roads. I still credit my death grip on the armrest that brought us safely through the storms. That and not letting our little buddy get nervous in the backseat that we were inches from death. Eventually the older generation started spending the winters in warmer climes and were anxious to hit the road before the really nasty weather struck. Hence Thanksgiving became our Christmas with the northern contingency.
We round robined at first with each family hosting at a restaurant offering a Thanksgiving buffet in their respective towns until it became difficult for some to travel. The last several years were in Rogers City, a town not known for its plethora of restaurant offerings. Thus it was possible to drive for four hours north and then another hour and a half to get to an open restaurant. Which to country folks is the norm actually. Things started to change as the youngest generation started to grow up and trips often included extra guests which turned into family or other commitments. The final couple of years included the first little great grandchild to add to the joy and Christmas gifts that we got to play with!
This year was different for a sad and difficult reason. The last Grandma passed away the previous November so that generation is officially gone. It's time to start new traditions and be open to different realities. We enjoyed our meal with our own little family - daughter, son-in-law and grandson at our house, using the dining room actually. We tend to be kitchen counter, small kitchen table people. The dining room allows me to use real china and all my fancy little serving pieces. Of course, someone always dumps a glass of water, etc. This year it was me. Little Joe keeps us focused on the here and now and grateful for family no matter who is at the dinner table. New customs and growth are inevitable. Traditions change, laughter doesn't stop, life goes on, and that's how it should be.
Sunday, October 16, 2016
FURTHER LEAFING/CHAPTER 2
Day Two began with a leisurely breakfast in the hotel (because there was a discount & I have no shame) before a conference call at 9. The early birds were already gone or not yet available. We were directed to a 4-person table this time so our odds of catering another party were lowered somewhat. I guess the Sault is just into giving people lots of room at their table, not at all bad. The window view of the park and river below through the morning fog was quite pleasant though I found myself more fascinated by a crew of two who were wet mopping, not kidding, the floor to ceiling windows with a long telescoping sloppy mop right over the tables on the other side of the room. A hostess came along and was horrified they were cleaning windows right over the breakfast diners and quickly sent them packing.
Apologizing to us she said "I don't know what they were thinking washing windows over people's tables." To which I replied, "well it wasn't our table and I'm just happy to see two young people so hard at work." Made my day - nudge, nudge wink, wink. Now we both know they probably perform this task when people aren't in the dining room which may possibly be how the tables get washed with residual mop splatter. Win-win!
Proceeded to my conference call in a room so small I think I hit my head on the ceiling when I walked around the bed. Anyway the desk chair was too short for the desk so I put the phone on speaker and just curled up and wrote with the pad snugged up against my knees. A position they frown upon in a real office so cool.
Back on the road on another non-typical warm UP day and headed to the Mac Bridge. Only boats to be seen were the air boat island hoppers to the Island. I stated that I had never stopped at the fort so we detoured under the bridge to the fort entrance. At a price of $11 apiece with no "senior" discount I contemplated how bad I really wanted to see the attraction. I mean if you've seen one wooded palisade is another one that much different? The docent was quite adamant that this was a fort among forts and a treat not to be missed, not to mention the scheduled firing of the muskets at 2:00. Well not wanting to miss possible gunfire and mayhem I bought in. First stop was a history video which proceeded to tell me "well this isn't the original fort, and it's not really a fort at all but a place to exchange furs for trinkets and the walls were to keep undesirables out"- like coyotes and native Americans apparently. The original structure was torn down to use the wood elsewhere (side note- there is a ton of wood in Northern Michigan so I guess the appeal is it's already cut and ready) and the original buildings were found buried in the sand. Huh. Possibly if I had seen the video before paying the fee I might have passed.
Anyway to get my steps in for the day, I toured. There were people dressed in vintage palisade wear who I enjoyed tormenting by asking them questions about how they manage life in the 1700's with a cell phone sticking out of their homespun. There was a mix of real people and mannequins which led to a hilarious moment when I commented on the odd sight of a mannequin who was bent over in the camp garden pulling weeds. Imagine my surprise and chagrin when the mannequin moved and turned out to be a live young woman. Ahem. The gun show was interesting with two British soldiers sporting long guns appropriate for the times. One gave a fascinating lecture on the bayonet which did more to disrupt the American revolutionaries in a fight than the firing of the musket, which they claimed they could load and shoot 3 times in a minute. However the thought of being pronged by two foot long sharp steelie things on the end of the musket bothered the Americans more than the possibility of being hit with a musket ball. I agree. Another hilarious side note, as stated earlier the main audience for these midweek attractions are Baby Boomers who kept yelling for the soldier to "SPEAK UP" LOL.
On to Traverse City another beautiful area on the water. Land of boats, white sands, blue water and a billion wineries (well give or take a few million). All and all a pleasant place to linger. Sitting on the 45th parallel puts TC in line with the fabulous wine lands of France and Germany. They have the Gulf Stream, we have Lake Michigan-check and mate. Asking my sis-in-law for dinner ideas we settled on a new Italian eatery located in, wait for it, a former mental hospital. Well the grounds and buildings are quite spectacular, fitting for the area so maybe only the choicest mentally challenged called them home. Perfect.
Dressed in a Tee Shirt that advertised my affinity for red wine and jeans we were asked if we had a reservation. First clue. No, but they were able to accommodate us. We then commenced a long, long, long walk to the very last little room which was about a 10 by 10 furnished with two four-person tables, a tiny inaccessible window and stone walls. ahhh, we are pretty much trapped back in what had to be a former patient room. However, we did pass a fabulous wine cellar on the way in, so I'm good. We were then greeted by the Waiter, the Assistant Waiter and the Table Clearer, for lack of a better description. Hmm second clue. We peruse little copies of the day's selections that changes and is printed daily. Third clue - the menu was pretty much in Italian - oops. But I did get the impression they were big on organ meats and other things that I would probably shoot down the garbage disposal rather than cooking and charging so much for them. Little did I know I was flushing the expensive stuff down the drain.
Everything was ala carte of course with at least five courses constituting the meal which by my figuring should last approximately five hours. Though table clearer kept popping in every two minutes to see if we had any dirty dishes to dispose of, so apparently my time estimate was way off. But if you're to spend $100+ for dinner, I am going to take my time. Waiter A regaled us with the specials which for some reason were not listed on the daily bill of fare. Also from what I recall consisted of the loser of a recent bullfight or pig toss, I'm not really sure. I stuck with soup, salad and pasta with identifiable ingredients. Really cool restaurant overall and fitting for the type of clientele that would normally frequent such a place. News flash. People with money dress down 'cause if you can afford to eat there, you can wear any dang thing you want including tutus and sandals. And that was just the guys.
Final day was in search of a famous, yet unknown apple that is only grown in this area. But as we didn't remember the name of it or where it was located we were rather at a disadvantage. Ended up hitting a couple of vineyards and collecting the special Rose that we went up there to purchase in the first place before heading home.
Oh BTW, looks like this week would have been perfect as the fickle leaves have started their annual showing. Ah well when you get apples and grapes make cider and wine.
Apologizing to us she said "I don't know what they were thinking washing windows over people's tables." To which I replied, "well it wasn't our table and I'm just happy to see two young people so hard at work." Made my day - nudge, nudge wink, wink. Now we both know they probably perform this task when people aren't in the dining room which may possibly be how the tables get washed with residual mop splatter. Win-win!
Proceeded to my conference call in a room so small I think I hit my head on the ceiling when I walked around the bed. Anyway the desk chair was too short for the desk so I put the phone on speaker and just curled up and wrote with the pad snugged up against my knees. A position they frown upon in a real office so cool.
Back on the road on another non-typical warm UP day and headed to the Mac Bridge. Only boats to be seen were the air boat island hoppers to the Island. I stated that I had never stopped at the fort so we detoured under the bridge to the fort entrance. At a price of $11 apiece with no "senior" discount I contemplated how bad I really wanted to see the attraction. I mean if you've seen one wooded palisade is another one that much different? The docent was quite adamant that this was a fort among forts and a treat not to be missed, not to mention the scheduled firing of the muskets at 2:00. Well not wanting to miss possible gunfire and mayhem I bought in. First stop was a history video which proceeded to tell me "well this isn't the original fort, and it's not really a fort at all but a place to exchange furs for trinkets and the walls were to keep undesirables out"- like coyotes and native Americans apparently. The original structure was torn down to use the wood elsewhere (side note- there is a ton of wood in Northern Michigan so I guess the appeal is it's already cut and ready) and the original buildings were found buried in the sand. Huh. Possibly if I had seen the video before paying the fee I might have passed.
Anyway to get my steps in for the day, I toured. There were people dressed in vintage palisade wear who I enjoyed tormenting by asking them questions about how they manage life in the 1700's with a cell phone sticking out of their homespun. There was a mix of real people and mannequins which led to a hilarious moment when I commented on the odd sight of a mannequin who was bent over in the camp garden pulling weeds. Imagine my surprise and chagrin when the mannequin moved and turned out to be a live young woman. Ahem. The gun show was interesting with two British soldiers sporting long guns appropriate for the times. One gave a fascinating lecture on the bayonet which did more to disrupt the American revolutionaries in a fight than the firing of the musket, which they claimed they could load and shoot 3 times in a minute. However the thought of being pronged by two foot long sharp steelie things on the end of the musket bothered the Americans more than the possibility of being hit with a musket ball. I agree. Another hilarious side note, as stated earlier the main audience for these midweek attractions are Baby Boomers who kept yelling for the soldier to "SPEAK UP" LOL.
On to Traverse City another beautiful area on the water. Land of boats, white sands, blue water and a billion wineries (well give or take a few million). All and all a pleasant place to linger. Sitting on the 45th parallel puts TC in line with the fabulous wine lands of France and Germany. They have the Gulf Stream, we have Lake Michigan-check and mate. Asking my sis-in-law for dinner ideas we settled on a new Italian eatery located in, wait for it, a former mental hospital. Well the grounds and buildings are quite spectacular, fitting for the area so maybe only the choicest mentally challenged called them home. Perfect.
Dressed in a Tee Shirt that advertised my affinity for red wine and jeans we were asked if we had a reservation. First clue. No, but they were able to accommodate us. We then commenced a long, long, long walk to the very last little room which was about a 10 by 10 furnished with two four-person tables, a tiny inaccessible window and stone walls. ahhh, we are pretty much trapped back in what had to be a former patient room. However, we did pass a fabulous wine cellar on the way in, so I'm good. We were then greeted by the Waiter, the Assistant Waiter and the Table Clearer, for lack of a better description. Hmm second clue. We peruse little copies of the day's selections that changes and is printed daily. Third clue - the menu was pretty much in Italian - oops. But I did get the impression they were big on organ meats and other things that I would probably shoot down the garbage disposal rather than cooking and charging so much for them. Little did I know I was flushing the expensive stuff down the drain.
Everything was ala carte of course with at least five courses constituting the meal which by my figuring should last approximately five hours. Though table clearer kept popping in every two minutes to see if we had any dirty dishes to dispose of, so apparently my time estimate was way off. But if you're to spend $100+ for dinner, I am going to take my time. Waiter A regaled us with the specials which for some reason were not listed on the daily bill of fare. Also from what I recall consisted of the loser of a recent bullfight or pig toss, I'm not really sure. I stuck with soup, salad and pasta with identifiable ingredients. Really cool restaurant overall and fitting for the type of clientele that would normally frequent such a place. News flash. People with money dress down 'cause if you can afford to eat there, you can wear any dang thing you want including tutus and sandals. And that was just the guys.
Final day was in search of a famous, yet unknown apple that is only grown in this area. But as we didn't remember the name of it or where it was located we were rather at a disadvantage. Ended up hitting a couple of vineyards and collecting the special Rose that we went up there to purchase in the first place before heading home.
Oh BTW, looks like this week would have been perfect as the fickle leaves have started their annual showing. Ah well when you get apples and grapes make cider and wine.
Saturday, October 15, 2016
COLOR TOUR WOES
Day One of a spontaneous trip up North (as Michiganders speak), to review the fall color face lift enjoyed by our State. Woefully the leaves are stubbornly retaining their chlorophyll gluttony and refusing to turn as quickly as usual. Every year is basically a crap shoot -- too much rain? cold nights? wind? Part of nature's little game of "catch me if you can" on fall leaf painting. Temperature is in the mid 70's.
However all is not lost, frequent pops of burnt orange (often fluorescent) were paramount as mile after mile of ROAD WORK signs were encountered. Occasionally the orange is punctuated by a few errant spots of yellow and green from the worker's safety vests. I usually refer to them as targets considering the level of accidents that occur to road workers. One has to ponder why government budgets end in September with new money available October 1, Did it occur to anyone that perhaps road work would be better completed in, say, the warmer months? Immediately subjecting fragile new roadways to the punishment of winter does not seem to be a very good game plan. But I digress.
Ok, past Houghton Lake a few more Fall jacketed trees are starting to appear. No doubt these are possibly dying foliage throwing a last shawl of brilliant color on before passing on. Could be the slowness of the technicolor show commencing or the angle of the light, but I have never seen the color of raspberry on so many colored leaves. Or could it just be a trick of my sunglasses - the proverbial rose colored phenomenon?
After another 30 or 40 miles we will be crossing the Mighty Mac to the Upper Peninsula the land of whitewater waterfalls and chuckling chipmunks. Well at least I think they are chipmunks I hear as one traverses the off-road woodland paths to the aforementioned waterfalls. It is also the land of two mailboxes - one for warm weather and the second 10 feet higher to accommodate the massive piles of plowed snow that occur in the cooler months. A land where the motorcycles of summer are replaced with the rumbling excitement of the snowmobiles, with drivers and passengers often wearing the same protective gear as weather does tend to change quickly.
Sault Ste Marie (the Soo) was uncharacteristically sheathed in warm weather and green trees. Most unusual for October. Remembering our adventures from our youth we eagerly checked into the downtown hotel and headed to the "Antlers" restaurant for dinner where one picked out their meat from a giant cooler for grilling and some brave souls would attempt the 5-pound hamburger. Although the masses of animal heads and body parts were still prominently displayed on walls and ceiling alas the meat locker was gone along with the front door and other illusions of grandeur that made the Antlers special. Upon suggesting that changes had occurred since the last trip there to the youngish waiter who looked extremely blank or cautious as not to upset the customer it dawned on me - that was 40 years ago. Sigh. Things definitely get smaller as you get older.
After dinner I was treated to the numerous well-lit exotic places of food and fantasy that were bypassed in favor of the A-room with its dead animals on the walls and no obvious door. Perhaps the darkness and lack of front door should have been warning enough. Not that one in front; ok that one is chained, go to the rear past the motorcycle chained to some steps. In pouring rain no less. Finally finding the back door available ( oh that's why everyone parked back here) and then another labyrinth to a hostess who seated the two of us at a table for 8. Did we stumble on a party to be joined by others? Or are we dining European style where all are friends over food or lack of tables. Nope, just they know how many diners to expect on a rainy Wednesday evening so it just plain didn't matter!
Bottom line - I didn't recognize the old place. Wasn't it bigger with a more elaborate menu? Dead animals still making camp on walls ceilings check. However I did discover "pontaine" which is apparently a Canadian delicacy that closely resembles cheesy fries.
Souvenir hunting in mind after dinner we discovered all sidewalks apparently roll up at 9 pm. Except for the fabulous restaurants and bars of course. I suppose it makes sense as the majority of people we saw on our impromptu road trip were boomer aged. So hunkering down with some wine or whiskey is probably the activity of choice after 9 pm. This is a college town so there was a variety of bars and saloons to choose from however.
However all is not lost, frequent pops of burnt orange (often fluorescent) were paramount as mile after mile of ROAD WORK signs were encountered. Occasionally the orange is punctuated by a few errant spots of yellow and green from the worker's safety vests. I usually refer to them as targets considering the level of accidents that occur to road workers. One has to ponder why government budgets end in September with new money available October 1, Did it occur to anyone that perhaps road work would be better completed in, say, the warmer months? Immediately subjecting fragile new roadways to the punishment of winter does not seem to be a very good game plan. But I digress.
Ok, past Houghton Lake a few more Fall jacketed trees are starting to appear. No doubt these are possibly dying foliage throwing a last shawl of brilliant color on before passing on. Could be the slowness of the technicolor show commencing or the angle of the light, but I have never seen the color of raspberry on so many colored leaves. Or could it just be a trick of my sunglasses - the proverbial rose colored phenomenon?
After another 30 or 40 miles we will be crossing the Mighty Mac to the Upper Peninsula the land of whitewater waterfalls and chuckling chipmunks. Well at least I think they are chipmunks I hear as one traverses the off-road woodland paths to the aforementioned waterfalls. It is also the land of two mailboxes - one for warm weather and the second 10 feet higher to accommodate the massive piles of plowed snow that occur in the cooler months. A land where the motorcycles of summer are replaced with the rumbling excitement of the snowmobiles, with drivers and passengers often wearing the same protective gear as weather does tend to change quickly.
Sault Ste Marie (the Soo) was uncharacteristically sheathed in warm weather and green trees. Most unusual for October. Remembering our adventures from our youth we eagerly checked into the downtown hotel and headed to the "Antlers" restaurant for dinner where one picked out their meat from a giant cooler for grilling and some brave souls would attempt the 5-pound hamburger. Although the masses of animal heads and body parts were still prominently displayed on walls and ceiling alas the meat locker was gone along with the front door and other illusions of grandeur that made the Antlers special. Upon suggesting that changes had occurred since the last trip there to the youngish waiter who looked extremely blank or cautious as not to upset the customer it dawned on me - that was 40 years ago. Sigh. Things definitely get smaller as you get older.
After dinner I was treated to the numerous well-lit exotic places of food and fantasy that were bypassed in favor of the A-room with its dead animals on the walls and no obvious door. Perhaps the darkness and lack of front door should have been warning enough. Not that one in front; ok that one is chained, go to the rear past the motorcycle chained to some steps. In pouring rain no less. Finally finding the back door available ( oh that's why everyone parked back here) and then another labyrinth to a hostess who seated the two of us at a table for 8. Did we stumble on a party to be joined by others? Or are we dining European style where all are friends over food or lack of tables. Nope, just they know how many diners to expect on a rainy Wednesday evening so it just plain didn't matter!
Bottom line - I didn't recognize the old place. Wasn't it bigger with a more elaborate menu? Dead animals still making camp on walls ceilings check. However I did discover "pontaine" which is apparently a Canadian delicacy that closely resembles cheesy fries.
Souvenir hunting in mind after dinner we discovered all sidewalks apparently roll up at 9 pm. Except for the fabulous restaurants and bars of course. I suppose it makes sense as the majority of people we saw on our impromptu road trip were boomer aged. So hunkering down with some wine or whiskey is probably the activity of choice after 9 pm. This is a college town so there was a variety of bars and saloons to choose from however.
Wednesday, September 28, 2016
WHY I WILLNEVER VOTE FOR TRUMP
It needs to be said. Trump is running to be dictator-in-chief. His deplorable performance at the first debate is just another indication of his meglamania mindset. He only takes on projects where he can make a buck usually at the expense of everyone else. He actually used his projects/scams in other countries as his knowledge of their culture, history and relationship with the United States. Being President is not a business deal where your sole objective is to take advantage of the other guy and make money.
A business person who does not understand that this is a global economy and every country's actions have an impact on others is an idiot. This is not the 1930's though one wonders if that is his objective. It is especially telling when his rallies focus on blaming minorities (fast becoming majorities) for all the woes of the country. That we can solve our problems by "cleansing" certain ethnicities, religious beliefs or race. Next we will be seeing makeshift swastikas appearing with the Trump logo embedded of course.
Government does not exist to make a profit which is why the forefathers created checks and balances so that no one person could become King. We pay taxes to allow our government the ability to take care of the helpless, undertake projects that are too large for the individual, protect our citizens and speak for us on the world platform. Surprise, none of this is a business deal designed to screw the other guy, but to be a faithful servant of the people. Does our legislature often fail to be good caretakers. Granted, but that is on us to vote and apply pressure to assure the right things are done rather than complacently allowing things to go on as usual and then bitch about it.
Our boy admires people like dictator brother Putin and there is evidence to indicate Russia is heavily invested in Trump projects. There are also strong indications that the Russians are behind strategic hacking as evidenced by Trump's assertion that it is probably some 400 lb loser sitting on his bed with his laptop. That loser's bed is probably located in the Kremlin. Why make such ridiculous statements including I don't pay taxes because I'm smart. How do we make America great again when you don't believe you need to pay anything for the cause. Again arrogant to the extreme.
There are many reasons why I despise what the man stands for but here are a few outrageous examples. 1) mocking a physically impaired journalist and locking other journalists in a fenced area encouraging rabid rally attendees to heap ridicule and missiles onto them; 2) denouncing a judge, born in the United States, because his parents were from Mexico (your grandparents were from Germany, but you don't like to say that do you); 3) a female journalist was unfit as she had blood coming out of her whatever; 4) receiving a purple heart from a veteran saying - always wanted one but this was easier way to get one; 5) insulting the parents of an American soldier killed in the Mideast defending his men; 6) destroying the lives of small investors and contractors unlucky enough to be involved in his business dealings claiming it will be more expensive for them to sue him than to collect what was rightfully owed to them.
This man does not speak for me and I sure as hell don't want him speaking for my country. Remember if he is smart for not paying his taxes, what does that make us? We do have an alternative who is highly qualified and has earned the right to represent this country, but I will not sully her reputation in this condemnation of the idiot Trump.
A business person who does not understand that this is a global economy and every country's actions have an impact on others is an idiot. This is not the 1930's though one wonders if that is his objective. It is especially telling when his rallies focus on blaming minorities (fast becoming majorities) for all the woes of the country. That we can solve our problems by "cleansing" certain ethnicities, religious beliefs or race. Next we will be seeing makeshift swastikas appearing with the Trump logo embedded of course.
Government does not exist to make a profit which is why the forefathers created checks and balances so that no one person could become King. We pay taxes to allow our government the ability to take care of the helpless, undertake projects that are too large for the individual, protect our citizens and speak for us on the world platform. Surprise, none of this is a business deal designed to screw the other guy, but to be a faithful servant of the people. Does our legislature often fail to be good caretakers. Granted, but that is on us to vote and apply pressure to assure the right things are done rather than complacently allowing things to go on as usual and then bitch about it.
Our boy admires people like dictator brother Putin and there is evidence to indicate Russia is heavily invested in Trump projects. There are also strong indications that the Russians are behind strategic hacking as evidenced by Trump's assertion that it is probably some 400 lb loser sitting on his bed with his laptop. That loser's bed is probably located in the Kremlin. Why make such ridiculous statements including I don't pay taxes because I'm smart. How do we make America great again when you don't believe you need to pay anything for the cause. Again arrogant to the extreme.
There are many reasons why I despise what the man stands for but here are a few outrageous examples. 1) mocking a physically impaired journalist and locking other journalists in a fenced area encouraging rabid rally attendees to heap ridicule and missiles onto them; 2) denouncing a judge, born in the United States, because his parents were from Mexico (your grandparents were from Germany, but you don't like to say that do you); 3) a female journalist was unfit as she had blood coming out of her whatever; 4) receiving a purple heart from a veteran saying - always wanted one but this was easier way to get one; 5) insulting the parents of an American soldier killed in the Mideast defending his men; 6) destroying the lives of small investors and contractors unlucky enough to be involved in his business dealings claiming it will be more expensive for them to sue him than to collect what was rightfully owed to them.
This man does not speak for me and I sure as hell don't want him speaking for my country. Remember if he is smart for not paying his taxes, what does that make us? We do have an alternative who is highly qualified and has earned the right to represent this country, but I will not sully her reputation in this condemnation of the idiot Trump.
Thursday, September 15, 2016
FOOD FOR THOUGHT
Enjoying the enviable position of being able to grocery shop on a weekday I almost miss the consternation in the chicken coops of everyone scrambling to get their food chores done on the weekend. Sandwiched in between other necessary errands neglected during the work week. Yes, food references throughout! There is a pattern to when people shop however. Monday store shelves are often missing popular items due to the invasions over the weekends so not a good day to go.
Though I understand it is a necessity, how many times have we tripped over both shoppers grabbing products and store personnel frantically replenishing said product at the same time? Which basically leaves aisles impassable due to shopping carts aggressively parked sideways in the aisle together with the rolling multi-layer store carts taking up the rest of the space? Neither is willing to give up any hard fought for real estate to ease the passage of others. Although I will attribute this roadblock to inattention and not maliciousness, there are still some who believe, by golly I got here first and I will examine each brand, ingredient and price in minute detail and the heck with the rest of you. Polite "excuse me's" may or may not grant you passage but accidently on purpose ramming a cart into another usually works.
Then there are the older people who move a little slower, reach is limited and eyesight suspect. For their own safety I advocate weekday early morning shopping. However the weekday is fraught with its own hazards. For some reason Tuesday morning brings the march of the riding carts equipped with a small basket. I have counted at least half a dozen blocking the lanes in the course of a couple of minutes. My theory is there is a beacon on top of the building inviting the cart riders to "come on down". You would think that would speed things up right? Not. Just provides a more comfortable spot to contemplate the various products or the shopper's navals, whatever.
There is an interesting contrast between summer and winter weekday shopping however. When school is not in session, adults are accompanied by varying numbers of children wild with boredom who are let loose in a huge warehouse of toys and food. Wheee. I actually noticed one harried Mother tending to the infant in the front seat ignorant of the fact that an older sibling was playfully pulling the lip up of a slightly older sibling. They were boys so I imagine they worked it out or will when the younger one grows bigger and meaner than his tormentor. Once school is back in session you see much calmer Moms and Dads practically dancing down the aisles drunk on their new-found freedom. Of course they still block the aisles.
And of course checkout is always a contest. Walking through the area on my way into the store I see plenty of open lanes with cashiers literally filing their nails or learning conversational French as they wait for customers. By some magic when it is time to check out however, we of the full carts eye each other warily as we realize we are now all in competition for the shortest available lane. You literally hear engines idling and sharp intakes of breath as we all frantically scan for the "best lane". I am not proud of beating out the older lady with the cane to that short lane the other day. But who knows this may have been the highlight of her day so who am I to rush the experience.
Of course there is payback when the mature folks who are ahead of me by 10 or 15 minutes, are still painstakingly removing items from their cart, chatting up the cashier and being surprised that money is to be exchanged at the end at the end of the transaction. The purse is THEN opened and often more times than not, a little white bank envelope is pulled out stuffed with cash. Apparently the older generation still does not trust those little plastic cards and will meet their week's needs with real live money. I worry that at the speed they move and the amount of cash they carry could make them sitting ducks for the swifter and more larcenous of the population.
Another observation is the number of people who will line up and WAIT to self-checkout. Really? Not only are we depriving a person of a cashier job, but we are literally paying the store for the privilege of doing their work. Unless I'm buying something embarrassing or fattening, AND there is no line, I use the humans.
Final observation - toddlers and babies. Nothing is more enjoyable than interacting with the little people trapped in their cart seats while Mom or Dad are waiting to check out. They are bored but are thrilled to talk to any stranger who wishes to engage. A trait we have to beat out of them as they grow older. One little one was chewing on the chip bag which we cooed over until Mom snatched it away. Then she started chewing on the bottle cap of the milk jug. In horror Mom pulled it away probably seeing germs everywhere. At that the little girl just gave up and rested her weary head on the frozen peas with a sly little grin to us.
Though I understand it is a necessity, how many times have we tripped over both shoppers grabbing products and store personnel frantically replenishing said product at the same time? Which basically leaves aisles impassable due to shopping carts aggressively parked sideways in the aisle together with the rolling multi-layer store carts taking up the rest of the space? Neither is willing to give up any hard fought for real estate to ease the passage of others. Although I will attribute this roadblock to inattention and not maliciousness, there are still some who believe, by golly I got here first and I will examine each brand, ingredient and price in minute detail and the heck with the rest of you. Polite "excuse me's" may or may not grant you passage but accidently on purpose ramming a cart into another usually works.
Then there are the older people who move a little slower, reach is limited and eyesight suspect. For their own safety I advocate weekday early morning shopping. However the weekday is fraught with its own hazards. For some reason Tuesday morning brings the march of the riding carts equipped with a small basket. I have counted at least half a dozen blocking the lanes in the course of a couple of minutes. My theory is there is a beacon on top of the building inviting the cart riders to "come on down". You would think that would speed things up right? Not. Just provides a more comfortable spot to contemplate the various products or the shopper's navals, whatever.
There is an interesting contrast between summer and winter weekday shopping however. When school is not in session, adults are accompanied by varying numbers of children wild with boredom who are let loose in a huge warehouse of toys and food. Wheee. I actually noticed one harried Mother tending to the infant in the front seat ignorant of the fact that an older sibling was playfully pulling the lip up of a slightly older sibling. They were boys so I imagine they worked it out or will when the younger one grows bigger and meaner than his tormentor. Once school is back in session you see much calmer Moms and Dads practically dancing down the aisles drunk on their new-found freedom. Of course they still block the aisles.
And of course checkout is always a contest. Walking through the area on my way into the store I see plenty of open lanes with cashiers literally filing their nails or learning conversational French as they wait for customers. By some magic when it is time to check out however, we of the full carts eye each other warily as we realize we are now all in competition for the shortest available lane. You literally hear engines idling and sharp intakes of breath as we all frantically scan for the "best lane". I am not proud of beating out the older lady with the cane to that short lane the other day. But who knows this may have been the highlight of her day so who am I to rush the experience.
Of course there is payback when the mature folks who are ahead of me by 10 or 15 minutes, are still painstakingly removing items from their cart, chatting up the cashier and being surprised that money is to be exchanged at the end at the end of the transaction. The purse is THEN opened and often more times than not, a little white bank envelope is pulled out stuffed with cash. Apparently the older generation still does not trust those little plastic cards and will meet their week's needs with real live money. I worry that at the speed they move and the amount of cash they carry could make them sitting ducks for the swifter and more larcenous of the population.
Another observation is the number of people who will line up and WAIT to self-checkout. Really? Not only are we depriving a person of a cashier job, but we are literally paying the store for the privilege of doing their work. Unless I'm buying something embarrassing or fattening, AND there is no line, I use the humans.
Final observation - toddlers and babies. Nothing is more enjoyable than interacting with the little people trapped in their cart seats while Mom or Dad are waiting to check out. They are bored but are thrilled to talk to any stranger who wishes to engage. A trait we have to beat out of them as they grow older. One little one was chewing on the chip bag which we cooed over until Mom snatched it away. Then she started chewing on the bottle cap of the milk jug. In horror Mom pulled it away probably seeing germs everywhere. At that the little girl just gave up and rested her weary head on the frozen peas with a sly little grin to us.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
