What’s Cooking & Other Kitchen Games

I’m pitching a reality TV show idea to Hollywood.  This show would feature any number of really excellent cooks (Rachel Ray, Paula Dean, and, ooh la la Emeril (Bam!) to name a few) who would come in to the studio kitchen and attempt to teach me how to cook. I would then attempt (keyword: attempt) to make the dish or the meal, right there on national television.  It’s a bit like Julie & Julia because, of course I would be attempting to imitate a great cook, but it would also combine elements of some other reality TV shows like Survivor.  The audience members getting drawn to sample the finished product (would they be the contestants or the judges?) would be the ones trying to survive, of course.  The name of this new reality TV show?  You guessed it, “How To Screw Up A Really Great Meal”.  I can hear it now.  The studio audience applauding, the cameras swing into action panning the audience, lights go up full, the musical score plays and the announcer’s voice belts out my cue to go onstage, “This is How To Screw Up A Really Great Meal with your host, The Wild Mind!”  The crowd goes wild, because they truly hope that this episode will be the one where I finally pull off an edible attempt.

Sigh.  One can dream.

Hell’s Kitchen

Truth of the matter is, I’ve never been comfortable in the kitchen until recently.  Growing up in my home, for me, and learning to cook with a dad who was first, an excellent cook himself, and two, anal retentive about leveling off every single cup, tablespoon and teaspoon.  Now, that’s not such a bad thing, but something happened between my father and I in the kitchen every time he tried to teach me a recipe that led to him getting frustrated with me and me in tears about it…or angry.  My memory of the experience is a bit Hell’s Kitchen-esque.  The result?  I gave up trying to cook.  By the time I really needed to cook to feed a family, there was no way on God’s green earth I was going to ever measure up to my, then, husband’s mom’s cooking or my now deceased father’s ability to measure and scoop so succinctly, so again, you guessed it, I gave up and quit trying.  I mean, who really enjoys slaving away for a couple of hours after a long day at work only to be greeted with criticism.  Throw the poor cook a bone and at least affirm the effort. Those of you wonderful family members out there who suffer in silence and still muster the lie, “It was great honey!” and manage to choke it down anyway, are to be commended.  You will soon be dining like kings instead of ordering out take-out. Anyway, enough of my deplorable kitchen issues. 

Cooking isn’t rocket science

One thing my dad did tell me was any fool who can read can learn to cook.  In fact, his attitude was that if you can read you can teach yourself to do anything and by the time I left home for college he’d proven that theory on a number of things in his own life.  It was pretty amazing.  So, while our father-daughter bonding kitchen experiences are less than ideal, my dad set a pretty great example in a bunch of areas. Learning things you have no clue how to do was one of them.

So, with that example, and with the added incentive that my poor children are starving, I’ve decided to, finally in midlife, do something I’ve really always wanted to do, but have never really made a commitment to doing.  I’m finding that cooking is a lot more fun than I expected. 

Since being single, I’ve found out that there are also many, many men who are not only great handy men, but they are skilled in the kitchen as well.  This leads me to think that gaining some kitchen knowledge might be a lot more fun than I previously thought.  After all, there’s a lot of fun to be had using hot pads, an egg beater and real butter.  Accompanying the meal preparations with a fine bottle of wine is a nice touch.  Later in the evening the adventurous cooking couple can advance to serving each other cocktails such as Sex On The Beach or Screwdrivers.  But for those, who like me, are uncertain of themselves in this new domain, I’d like to suggest these simple steps to enjoying a wonderful culinary experience. This is a combination cooking experience for beginners and a party game.  It is a versatile recipe.  Feel free to experiment with your own combinations and techniques.  As you gain confidence and skill, I’m sure you, too, will be able to develop your own personal culinary style.  If you’re more adept at the culinary arts maybe you could leave a comment and share what variations on this recipe you’ve tried. 

Recipe For Kitchen Success

Ingredients:

2 nicely shaped ripe oranges, one ripe but not over-ripe banana, saucepan, oven with working heat controls, 1 very flavorful Kielbasa, seasonings.

Instructions:

Step One:  Carefully and slowly, peel the oranges

Step Two:  Gently squeeze the oranges

Step Three: Savor the oranges as you simmer over a low heat and season to taste.

Step 4:  Continue savoring and simmering while stirring occasionally.

Step 4:  While simmering the oranges over a gradually increasing heat, peel the banana

Step 5:  When the oranges, banana and oven are fully heated…

Step 6:  Play Hide The Kielbasa

Enjoy!

Roasting Chestnuts, Ringing Bells, Jumping Santa Merrily On High and Other Songs of the Season

Have you ever stopped to consider the lyrics of many of the songs we sing during this time of year?  I’m talking about the songs that are usually passed off as innocent children’s songs of Santa, elves, presents under the tree and reindeer on rooftops.  If you’ve read my posts on Handy Men and Their Tools, Hoses and Pumps, Fire Trucks, or Wood Deliveries then you might already suspect the direction I am heading with this.   Now that it is Christmas, and because I had a special request to get away from the depressing divorce stuff and do something much more fun and tawdry, let’s take a look at some of those holiday songs Wild Mind style.

To start things off, I suggest that the song, Up On The Housetop, by B.R. Hanby, is not as naively innocent as it appears.  Let’s take a look:

Up on the housetop reindeer pause (okay, this is starting to sound weird already.  I mean there is the couch, the kitchen, the hot tub and the bedroom, but the rooftop? With reindeer?)

Out jumps good old Santa Claus (Jumping

Santa? Sounds like a title from the movie section of the adult store)

Down thru the chimney with lots of toys

(What? Toys from the adult store? Not in my chimney!)

All for the little ones, Christmas joys (See! Size does NOT matter.)

Ho, ho, ho! (Wait!  Who you callin’ a ho?)

Who wouldn’t go? (Where?  To the adult store? I wouldn’t but that’s just me.  After all, I thought Santa made home delivery. Isn’t that what this whole reindeer and sleigh thing is about anyway? No, I said reindeer and sleigh, not reindeer and swing…but…wait…now that you mention it…)

Up on the housetop, click, click, click (very delicately stated but sleighs and reindeer don’t click, they creak, they snort, they groan, they…well, never mind, what do I know anyway? I’m not into sleighs and swings, housetops and deer, not much anyway.)

Down thru the chimney with good Saint Nick (oh, he’s good alright! But, again, what do I know, right?)

I could go on and on with this song alone.  It talks about filling stockings, begging Santa to “fill it well” and even later on talks about whips.  It isn’t as innocent a song as one might think. It isn’t the only song of this ilk either. Let’s take a look at some other holiday titles just for fun. 

We’ve all heard of the popular favorite, Jingle Balls Bells which accurately depicts the state of affairs (pun intended) after the Chestnuts Have Been Roasting on The Open Fire. Hmmm, nice and tender!

Then, of course, those who are single at Christmas might experience Silver Bells or have a Blue Christmas unless they can figure out a way to Ding Dong Merrily on High (which by the way is a pretty song, but the name?  Are you kidding me?) or Rock Around The Christmas Tree with a Boogie Woogie Santa Claus of their own. In that case, someone’s Bells Will Be Ringing.  Of course, for those who are desperate for some winter companionship there is always Dominick the Donkey (does it help that he’s Italian?), The Little Drummer Boy, Good King Wenceslas, Frosty the Snowman (though I hear he’s a bit frigid), and Jolly Old St. Nick (just be sure to stock up on  the Viagra, just in case). No one should be lonely with companions like these readily available and willing to spread a little Christmas cheer.  I would advise you to stay away from Little St. Nick, after, all how much fun is that? Of course, if you are into large group events, then the Parade of The Wooden Soldiers might be more to your liking. 

Now, for all my guy friends out there who are seeking female companionship because Baby It’s Cold Outside, I encourage you to consider Jeannette Isabella.  I hear she brings a torch with her when she comes. That might make for some Glad Christmas Bells! I also understand that The Sugarplum Fairies put on a good show.  I think for the right price, they might even dance.  And, men, if you are decent to your date and don’t expect her to go Over the River and Through the Woods, then you might end up being one of the lucky ones Driving Home for Christmas.

So, for all out there, however you choose to celebrate, I do hope you hear the Bells of Christmas All Through The Night.  After all, everyone needs their own Hard Rock Candy Christmas.  And, in all your festivities, whether on couch, in front of the fire, or on the rooftop with Santa in his sleigh, have a Wonderful Christmas Time and Don’t Forget To Feed The Reindeer!

P.S.  If you do try the rooftop, sleigh and reindeer thing, let me know how it goes.  I have serious questions about how that’s going to look when you have to explain to the insurance guy how the holes got in the roof and I’m dying to know how you managed to balance the sleigh.  I’ve had trouble with those parts myself.

 

What Color Ornaments Do You Have Hanging On Your Tree?

Now, before you go getting your diaper in a knot because you suspect I’ve breached an impropriety by asking a question that is far too personal, just hold on.  It is, after all, Christmas and the season for festive decor.  By festive decor I do mean festive and, well, just look about.  It is everywhere.  The decor at this time of the year is bright, colorful and nearly overwhelming.  I have to admit, some of the decor is even nauseating.

In my younger years, I was totally into the decorator trees. You know, pick a color theme and go with it.  My ex, however, simply could not see his tree decorated in such a manner.  He was into the multi-colored decor.  You know what I’m talking about.  All the different colored lights, tinsel and balls ornaments strung willy nilly on the tree.  The tree ends up looking like someone puked candy on it.

I always had a hard time putting more than three colors on my tree.  Actually, two colors was pushing the limit.  I’m a bit of a monochromatic scheme girl myself since the tree itself lends so much strength, vigor and color to the entire situation in its natural state.  Why hide a good thing with grotesque coloration?  Would you tattoo your tree? No?  Too many varied colors on the tree makes me wonder if the tree is sick or dying or something dire. It certainly makes me feel a bit queasy looking at something like that. A tree with too much ornamentation or the wrong color ornamentation is just wrong.  The tree ends up seeming dwarfed by the decor; diminished behind the ornaments.

Another problem with tree decorating can be found with the choice of the ornaments.  Color is so critical, don’t you think?  I mean, gold balls ornaments are nice.  They indicate a sense of peace and rest.  They represent prosperity and wealth.  They embrace a position of satisfaction and contentment.

Silver ornaments on the other hand are hard, cold, unfeeling and unyielding.  Brrrrrr! Want that hanging on your tree?  What on earth do silver things do but reflect a coldness to the brightly wrapped boxes under the tree.  Might as well have a white and frozen tree.  Not much fun there.  Cold, icy, painfully un-giving. 

Green ornaments?  Eww! Moldy. Decaying unused, sick.  Good if they turn a different color with some tender polishing and loving care, but if they are permanently green?  Something seriously must have died on that tree. Or maybe the ornaments are just discolored permanently due to negligence or lack of use. 

Purple or pink ornaments?  Give me a break! Or….give them a break!    

Red ornaments?  Hmmm, now we’re talking a color that ignites The Wild Mind’s imagination.  It seems there’s a nice balance between the luxuriously contented peacefulness of the gold ornaments and the passionate, energetic, passion of the red ornaments. 

Blue ornaments?  Seriously?  Do I need to say anything more?

What color ornaments are hanging on your tree, this holiday season? 

Thanksgiving 2009 in Review: Screwing Up Fine American Traditions One Recipe At A Time

Never before have I been aware of the great lengths we Americans go to in our efforts to conceptualize, create, concoct and consume food on this particular day of the year.  Sure we say the day is all about family, but I think the day is all about food. Even more accurately, I suspect it isn’t even about food but about consumption. Better even, I believe it is about food, consumption and our competition to best each other in both realms.  Family, holiday and tradition simply legitimizes our desire to compete with each other in our desire to satiate our gluttonous tendencies.

Alright, alright.

Maybe that is a bit extreme, maudlin, or even harsh. Maybe it is unfair. Maybe I am just all sour grapes today.  I have reason to be. After all, I’m a lousy cook.  I can’t boil water without ruining a pan. Why would this day, of all days, the day we worship food and it’s preparation, even be a fun day for me? It isn’t.  It’s an ordeal.  It doesn’t ever start out this way for me.  I actually end up looking forward to making the attempt to enter into this realm of celebration, but somehow, some way disaster stalks me in the kitchen and always has his way with me.

A New Reality TV Show?

I’m notorious for screwing up completely wonderful UDSA approved food products in an attempt to take them from the state they were purchased in to a form that quasi resembles cooked and edible matter.  Delicious?  Ha!  That word NEVER is uttered at my table. I can blow a microwave TV dinner, I’m that good at screwing up anything food related. I can make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich taste like something that should be used to pave roads.  Better, I can make it BE something that should be used to pave roads.  In fact, I’ve often considered pitching Hollywood for a new TV reality show called “Cooking With Cat: Screwing Up Great Cuisine One Recipe At A Time”.  Hell, I don’t even need a recipe. I can screw it up without even looking at the directions.  Really.  I am that good.  

The Way To A Man’s Heart?

If the adage “The  way to a man’s heart is through his stomach” is true, I’m doomed.   This would totally explain why, as incredibly attractive as I am, I still remain single…well…that and the four kids…and the fact that I live in the Wild Wild West where mostly cavemen and cowboys reside, but details, details.  I keep hoping that, there really is something else more enticing to men than food.

Clearly, a holiday centered around boasting of one’s culinary clout is not one that I’m going to revel in let alone experience much success with.  Unless, of course, we measure success by my standards which is “She with the greatest disaster wins”.  (And, yes, I do have a scoring rubric to determine the greatest disaster.) This Thanksgiving had all the markings of an unmitigated disaster. Try as I might to maintain a respectable presence in my kitchen I was courted and consumed by disaster almost from the get-go.

Step 1 To Screwing Up A Great Meal:  Plan Ahead then Screw Up The Plan

I’ve heard that a key ingredient to a good meal is advance planning.  I really took this to heart this year.  When I went out to buy groceries for the month, I planned ahead.  I actually planned on cooking a Thanksgiving turkey this year instead of hoping beleaguered friends or relatives would take pity on my children and invite us over for the big meal.  You see, this works for me because then I can just bring a bottle or two of wine and call it good.  That’s really how I prefer to do my cooking. 

This year, though, I decided to step up to the plate and attempt to be a “real” mom. I planned ahead and bought a 21 pound turkey at the beginning of the month.  Got it home, stuck it in the freezer and made a mental note that I’d have to take it out and put it in the fridge on the Sunday before Thanksgiving so it could thaw.  See?  Planning ahead.  I even remembered (the Sunday before Thanksgiving) to take the turkey out and let it thaw.  Never mind that it seemed a little bit smaller than the turkey I purchased a few weeks ago, but being as I am a tired, frazzled (can’t you hear the violins playing now?) single mom, I didn’t think much of it at the time. 

I thought a great deal about it when three days later I went out to the other freezer to get ice cream for the kids, pulled the door open and saw this huge 21 pound turkey stuffed in there.  I wondered, “What is this huge turkey doing here?”  Then panic struck and I wondered, “If that’s the turkey I bought at the beginning of the month then what did I stick in the refrigerator to thaw?”  I checked the refrigerator and, sure enough, the thing I put in the refrigerator was a much, much smaller bird.  “ Oh no!” I sighed in dismay, “We’re gonna be havin’ Thanksgiving chicken this year, I’m afraid.”

So, step number one to screwing up your Thanksgiving meal is to defrost the wrong bird.

Step 2 And Beyond:  Lose Your Camera

I trudged on valiantly hoping to make the best of things.  I even googled “How to Cook a Turkey” so I could get it right. I mean, after all, I can read.  How hard can this really be? I found some great recipes, complete with cooking times and seasoning recipes.  I followed all the directions for cleaning the turkey, seasoning it and getting it in the oven.  Everything seemed to be going well, until, about 45 minutes before the time went off I began smelling smoke.  I thought maybe something was up with the fireplace but, no, this smell was coming from the kitchen and, yes, there was a fine smoky haze in my kitchen.  I quickly opened windows and checked to make sure I hadn’t accidentally put the oven in self-cleaning mode.  (Don’t even ask!) The turkey appeared to be fine.  I could detect no reason for the smoky haze in my kitchen. Eventually the haze dissipated through the open kitchen window and we went on about our day preparing for the disastrous time when the turkey comes out of the oven and everything else goes in (rolls, bean casserole, etc.) and potatoes need to be boiled and smashed. 

Most experienced cooks would have been proud of me at this point.  I even had a meat thermometer and I used it.  The chicken turkey was right on schedule and when the timer went off after three hours I checked the thermometer.  Everything read the right temperature so I pulled it out and let it sit while I quite effectively did the following:

1. Got Child Number 1 to do the mashed potatoes (that way if everything else got ruined at least the potatoes would provide nourishment until we could ruin the frozen pies we bought for desert).

1a. Got Number 2 to do the stuffing.  “Just read the directions on the back of the box.” I told her.  “Use this pan,” I instructed as I handed her the really nice and muy expensive saucepan my other daughter bought for me last Christmas.

2. Had a glass of wine (after all the most stressful part of the meal had begun). 

3.  Realized the chicken turkey looked great and I needed to take a picture to post on my blog so the world could see that, yes, even I can cook a great turkey!

4. Realized I’d lost my camera.

5. Went off looking for my camera and after looking everywhere and not finding it, went into panic mode and began hyperventilating.

6. Got Child Number 2 to abandon the stuffing effort and get involved in the search for the lost camera.

7.  Realized a short while later that something was again on fire. 

8. Discovered that the stuffing was now blackened stuffing.  Does that fit under Cajun style cooking?

9. Downed another glass of wine (was I supposed to be using that for the gravy?).

10.  Remembered about the gravy and the bean casserole.

11.  Left Number 2 to continue looking for the camera, while I tried to forge ahead with the meal.

12.  Got Child Number 4 to set the table, Child Number 3 to prepare the bean casserole.  At this point there were four of us in my tiny galley kitchen going back and forth.  Seriously?  Hell’s Kitchen had nothing on me! 

13.  Began carving the turkey at the designated 20 to 30 minutes after taking it out of the oven.

14.  Realized about 3/4 of the way through the carving project that the chicken turkey was NOT completely cooked.  (Yes, you heard me chicken turkey was undercooked in spite of 185 degree readings in several places from meat thermometer).  I should have gone with the 3 1/2 hours instead of the 3 hour time.  Sigh.

15. Wrapped the turkey up in foil and put it back in the oven to finish cooking while we ate was there was of our pathetic meal.  (No, I didn’t tell the kids anything about that so, shhhhh!)

16.  Put what could be salvaged of the “chicken” and stuffing on the table along with the mashed potatoes and green bean casserole which actually survived the ordeal and made it to the table in edible fashion.  Please note, those were the two dishes I let someone else prepare and left them alone to do it.

The Final Step:  Clean Up the Mess and Try Again Tomorrow

By the time we all sat down to Thanksgiving dinner, I had a great deal to be thankful for.  We did have something to eat.  Two parts of the meal actually ended up being edible.  The house didn’t burn down and I did find the camera.  Well, Number 2 found the camera. I did lose a really nice saucepan in the chaos though.   

Now you understand why I was sour grapes about the whole Thanksgiving Feast thing. I mean, really, when it comes to putting food on the table, I’m lucky if it even makes it in edible form, forget it tasting good and looking good.  I simply had to forget the Martha Stewart or Rachel Ray cuisine and table settings everyone else was Face booking about on Thursday. I was simply glad to have made it through my meager attempt at celebrating in my own very unique way and still actually eat.  And losing one muy expensive saucepan in the fray was an improvement for me. 

In spite of it all, I’m still hopeful that I can pull off a tasty “chicken” noodle soup with the carcass and scraps. 

All’s Well That Ends Up Getting Eaten

As I sat down battle weary to yet another successful kitchen disaster (being this bad at cooking is really hard work!), I looked at my starving progeny.  They waited patiently in their chairs until everything was on the table. Their eyes gleamed at the mounds of fluffy white potatoes with butter melting unrestrained on top. The creamy gravy (little did they know then it would taste like paste) at least appeared tempting in its boat.  The “chicken” sliced with my new electric knife gleamed with the soft white juicy tenderness that the outer layers of an almost cooked bird can have.  The bean casserole provided color to an otherwise monochromatic culinary palette. And the soft, doughy rolls?  I completely forgot those, so we did without.  Sweet potatoes?  Nope.  Cranberry sauce?  None.  Other side dishes or soup?  Glaringly apparent in their absence. It was just me, my meager offerings, my hungry kids, some sparkling grape juice for them and a third glass of wine for me.

In spite of my incredible lack of skill in creating ambiance and mood (at least a positive and inviting one) through food, my kids ended up eating until they were stuffed.  Not one of us ended up with food poisoning. The dismal state of our cuisine’s presentation didn’t dampen our gratitude and joy that day one bit.  We all worked together to clean up the mountain of dishes then retired to the living room where we ordered Four Christmases on pay-per-view while digesting our dubious dinner.

In all, the meal may have been a disaster but the day was alright.  The very best part of it all was the chilling realization that my daughter was completely accurate when she said, “Seriously!  Hollywood should so come in here and just film us!  We wouldn’t have to memorize a script.  We wouldn’t have to change a thing and people would watch us!”

Move over, Jon and Kate plus Eight!

Bang Head Here!

Yep!  I have this sign posted in a visible place where I will see it daily.  Most people find it amusing.  Some want it for themselves because they find it humorous.  I personally think it is a sad statement about me that the sign is not a joke for me…I actually use this sign and lately more so than usual.  It’s back-to-school time again and with it comes the usual transition from lazy (or at least very relaxed and unscheduled) days to a lifestyle that moves at warp speed. 

Add to this, that I’ve just sent my first child off to college which is both a blessing and a hindrance all of which equates to one big adjustment for the family.  As if we haven’t been through enough adjustments in the last few years.

I guess the statement, “The only constant is change” really is more true than not.  I should after all this time be getting used to it.

The reality?  I haven’t written as often nor as well as I’d like here of late. 

Currently, I’m working on a piece about the significance of phallic symbols in post modern society.  I know.  I know.  People think I’m crazy, but while the ancient Egyptians were quite open and unreserved about phallic symbols, we as a more evolved culture are less so or so it seems.  I have some theories about this.  I don’t think we are less interested in them.  In fact, I think, if we just look phallic symbols are everywhere.  But then maybe that’s just me…

Stay tuned.  When I get through this next week and I get time to really research this topic, I’ll let you know what I discovered.  In the meantime, if you’re so inspired and you have any information you’d like to add as I develop my thoughts, don’t hesitate to share your insights in a comment here.

Gotta Love the City!!!

Okay, I really don’t know what to think of this one. 

On the one hand I think, “You gotta love the city!  It’s this kind of stuff that makes the city experience, well, the city experience!”

On the other hand I totally empathize with those who are being visually assaulted.  I mean, aren’t cities supposed to further civility not erode it? 

Something to think about while you are viewing this:

Blonde Moments

I’m not a news junkie.  I barely keep up on the current events. By keeping up, I mean, I’m lucky to find out something happened within a week of it actually happening.  I’m also not someone who follows the lifestyles of the rich and famous or the rich and political and famous.  I know I should be more informed, but, really…I could care less who slept with who and who did what where under who’s desk and why.  Nor do I care how many of my tax dollars were spent on a designer dress to adorn the current first lady, if even my tax dollars are going to that.  I should be more informed about things that are going on, and in other posts I’ve alluded to why I’m not (i.e., because I think the media in this country is warped, slanted, biased and anything but objectively informing us of anything).  Anyhow, I even reached new heights of uninformed blondeness for me today.

Really.  Sometimes I let those blonde roots show just a little too much.

Today my son was watching the news (yeah, my 14-year-old son watches it…never mind that I rarely do) and he noticed that Senator Edward Kennedy died.

“Oh wow!” he exclaimed.  “Ed Kennedy died?”  Like he couldn’t believe it but also like he knew who this was.

“Yeah,” I replied.  “Do you even know who he is?”

“Yeah, he’s the brother of…” he started to reply.  He seriously was going to tell me all about him!  I was floored.

“The brother of all those other Kennedys who died,” I impulsively interrupted. Somehow I felt I just had to know more than my son about this. 

My son just rolled his eyes, shook his head and clicked the remote to another channel.  “Mom, sometimes you are so blonde!” he sighed. 

Geez.  Now that was impressive.

Have You Ever Noticed?

Okay, so I’m kind of going through a list making phase as prompts for my creative thinking ventures.  The list of the day for me is…

Have You Ever Noticed….

…how if a guy is really into something say football or biking or quads or Nascar and a girl is really into that guy she’ll try to get into whatever he’s into but it doesn’t usually work the other way around?

…how it used to be looked down on to be a stay-at-home mom and now if a woman makes that choice it is more accepted?

…how when you’re in a funk you have to spend some time dealing with it and many times after the funk is over you regret the time you wasted?

…how life can turn on a dime?  Things are rolling right along quite nicely, then the smallest thing happens and it feels like you’ve been thrown into a brick wall at a 100 miles an hour with no protective gear.

…how socks go into the laundry with a perfect match but come out as a single.  Moral of this story?  Lovers should never do laundry together.

…how you can show a kid how to do something a million times and they never get it right…till they move out on their own and get their own place, then suddenly they understand how to do it perfectly.

…how the garbage man has a great job?  He gets to drive around in the big cushy truck all day, never touching the garbage, he gets paid good money and he doesn’t have to take work home with him.

…how most single working moms wish they had a wife who would cook dinner for them and help with the bedtime and bath routine and taxi jobs at the end of the day?

…how when you go to a new medical care provider filling out the form once is not enough, they then have to get a copy of the form, and then you have to go to the inner office where they punch all the same stuff into the computer again. And forget about if you are referred to another provider!

…how kids think they can convince you they aren’t lying by vehemently defending their untruth even though you saw with your own eyes otherwise.  “I didn’t hit her!”  “Uh, excuse me?  I just saw your fist windup and let ‘er fly and land right in her arm!” 

…how you never really crave a particular food (like bread or  pasta) till you decide to cut back on it, then you can’t get enough of it and this is before you’ve even actually started cutting back?!

…how lists like this can be really fun or really tedious or both.  Guess that must mean it is time to end this one…unless, of course…you have something to add?

Will Men Become Obsolete?

Articles like “Will Y Chromosome Go Bye-Bye?” really get me thinking.  Actually, articles like this give me a headache.  My ADD tendencies just want to go crazy with this one  by tossing out ideas and questions without the discipline to think clearly and follow any to their logical and usually flawed conclusions.  Add to this that my multiple personalities begin arguing amongst each other as  to who is correct and you have a migraine that requires a month’s supply of codeine to put down. Even so, the article is interesting and in spite of the headache I’m going to attempt to deal with this one in some fashion. 

In the most simplistic analysis the article discusses the discovery that Chromosome Y (the chromosome responsible for everything male including the reproductive paraphernalia that men sport in one particular area of their bodies) is losing genes at a far faster rate than the X chromosome is.  That’s alarming! 

One I instantly thinks thought, “So that’s how God has planned the end of the world!  He’s just going to eliminate men on a gradual basis so we all think it is evolution!  One day it will be a world without men, no sex, no babies, no further human race once all the women die out.”

Okay, other than being over the top silly (remember what I said earlier about “flawed conclusions”) this just not going to happen for so many reasons. 

The first reason is that we now have the technology to reproduce human beings without either of the two biological parents being present.  All we really need is a few well maintained cells and a warm healthy uterus.  No men needed if the sperm bank’s accounts are full.  For some of us, “No Men = No Problems” so this kind of existence would be a welcome one and as near a Utopia as one could want.  I personally, have a difficult enough time dealing with three females in the same household at a certain time of the month, I can’t imagine an entire female only planet.  If nothing else, men are at least different if completely incomprehensible and often smelly.  They at least add comic relief to our world.

Oh and don’t go all funny on me here and say “Well, without men how would we have and enjoy sex?”  Peeps!  Do NOT even go there! No!  Not with modern technology and alternative lifestyles.  It is simply not a discussion that needs to happen. Women have gotten around this one for ages. 

The article stated that evolution favors survival.  It also stated that the genes the Y chromosome is losing are genes that are no longer needed.  The evolutionary process and all, I guess.  If we consider that as our daily existence changes over time and that existence impacts the human body, how it operates, functions, survives, deals with the changing environment then, okay, the genes that make up that body must necessarily change or adapt over time.  The ones that aren’t needed go bye-bye and other ones stay.  Whatever.  What would interest me would be knowing which genes exactly are disappearing and what they were specifically responsible for in men. 

Like, I wonder, is intelligence implicated here? Or is the gene for discussing bowling, fishing and hunting and the best brand of chew or microbrew replicating itself in exponential proportions?  Personally, if science wants to contribute to humanity it should make the Nascar gene  disappear. 

Is courage and the ability to walk up to a woman and ask her out on a date implicated or has that gene been lost?  Now all men are able to do is give out a number and hope a woman calls or tell her, “Hey, when you get some time and want to do something call me!”  If that gene hasn’t been lost, I suspect it is disappearing.

I suspect that over time, with the overwhelming aversion to body hair continuing into the next several centuries we might see the body hair gene disappear in both sexes.  That would save so much time in the shower and pain at the spa!  Maybe science can figure out a way to speed that process up a bit. 

What I really believe is going on here is that the human body, like everything else in our world is downsizing.  It, like the rest of the world, is moving toward a simpler more efficient existence.  Therefore, to adapt to this more efficient world the irrelevant is being discarded and the human body is simply adapting. 

Simply put, men are already obsolete and evolution is just cleaning up the riff raff. 

Something to think about anyway. 😉

Ask A Dating Coach

I’ve recently been having a small measure of fun on Twitter.  By small measure I mean not very much but some.  Enough to go back each day and read some of the Tweets and on occasion click on some of the links.  The greatest reaction you’d see me give would be one you’d have to be in my mind to hear and that would be a mere, “Hmmm…interesting”.  In all, Twitter is a promotional site as far as I can tell.  It just seems to be a bunch of people promoting themselves…and I’m one of them.  We’ve become a world of self-promoters.  We are now our own best ad agencies.  Sigh.  But that’s not the reason for this post.

On Twitter or….due to my experiences there…I’ve come to realize that people like Hitch are not uncommon.  When I first saw that movie, I thought, “How could anyone seriously make any money doing that?”  Well, not only are there dating coaches out there, they actually seem to be making money doing it.  I haven’t done the research on what the qualifications for a dating coach are or how much they make, but the job position clearly exists and it isn’t like there are just one or two out there.

I sometimes think I could be a dating coach.  After all, I date a lot and I get callbacks.  I make it to the second and third and fourth cuts usually unless I opt out first.  I seem to be doing some things right most of the time.  I learn from my mistakes when I don’t and keep moving on.

Other times I think I could use a dating coach.  Those are the times when I encounter a dating situation that I just don’t have the prior knowledge or the required skillset to be able to negotiate the situation seamlessly and effortlessly.

Now is one of those times. 

Certain events have transpired to create a unique situation for me.  The specifics have me trying to wrap my mind around certain things.

These are the things I am trying to wrap my mind around:

When in a long distance relationship, and you finally meet for the first time, clearly the person isn’t going to travel a great distance for just a two hour date.  In the case of an international relationship, just the ordeal of working out passports, visas, and going through customs indicates a fair amount of commitment to the cause, and one is not going to go to all this trouble for a dinner date one evening.  Right? 

So, my question is, if the guy comes in from out of town for the weekend, or the fortnight is that entire time considered the first date?  Or is just the first evening the first date? 

If the first evening is the first date, and he’s come to town from overseas to see you, then if you “play by the rules” is the third evening he’s in town the third date? There is at least one school of thought that suggests the first date should be only two hours long. So the question then becomes,  is the first two hours you’re together considered the first date? Or is the entire visit considered the first date?  

If the entire time is considered the first date does this then mean he has to come back overseas two more times before it is considered the third date? 

Or, conversely, if the first two hours are considered the first date, then by the sixth hour if you haven’t put out should he be getting on the plane and heading home? If he hasn’t made a move on me by the sixth hour do I figure he’s just not that into me?  What amount of time is appropriate to consider getting romantic, the sixth hour, the sixth day or the sixth overseas trip?  I’m just having a really tough time understanding the rules here.

Does the Third Date Rule even apply here? 

Let’s revisit the thinking that says you shouldn’t spend more than two hours on the first date together.  Let’s play that tape again:  he’s flying in from another continent.  You’ve both planned this trip for months.  He gets off the plane after traveling 22 hours and battling customs.  You tell him two hours after he arrives, “Well, I should be getting home now.  I had a great time.  Thanks for everything!” WTH is up with that? 

Or how bout the idea that says you shouldn’t see each other more than twice a week at first?  Hit stop! Rewind!  Let’s play video back at a slower speed.  He’s traveled 22 hours by plane, battled customs at great expense to come see you for two weeks to see if the two of you have what it takes to develop a viable relationship.  He’s making no expectations and covering all the expenses and all you’re going to give up of yourself and your time is  four hours at two different times each of the two weeks he is in your country?  Ummmm, what about all that sounds gamey, manipulative, contrived and very selfish? 

Now clearly, I’m not necessarily advocating spending 24/7 with him either, but it seems there has to be a bit of a balance here.  It seems that the nature of the Long Distance Relationship, especially when two different cultures and countries and the expenses that are involved requires some special treatment and consideration and flexibility.

If you insist upon going by all those rules, can you see how it just gets very confusing when dealing with a distance relationship? Do you adhere to the letter of the law or the spirit of the law when dealing with a long distance relationship?   (And by long distance, I mean one where you cannot possibly drive to see the person in eight hours or less.)

It seems to me that the spirit of the law is the guide here.  The questions to really be asking are how do you develop and sustain trust across the miles?  How do you deal with technological snags that limit communication and still move the relationship forward? How do you show caring and respect and continue getting to know each other.  How do you take care of you even though you are spending a significant amount of time with another person?  How do you overcome the cultural and social challenges that might come your way?  How do you support and care for each other when you cannot be in the same location?  How do you keep the interest alive when you are spending so much time together during visits and then no time together during non-visits?  How long can this go on before you have to consider ways to close the distance? 

I mean I could be wrong here, but isn’t the challenge in every relationship that of maintaining and caring for who you are while also respecting and caring for the other individual too?  There has to be togetherness as well as space and distance and the two people in question are either able to negotiate this or they can’t. If they can’t it is probably not going to be a go in the first two hours, the first six or on the sixth trip. I could be wrong. 

Maybe I should ask a dating coach.