HOME COOKING---NOT AT MY HOUSE YOU DON'T!

Everything my mother learned about cooking came from my grandmother. Big mistake!

My grandmother made only one delicious dish, but I had to develop a nasty cold for her to prepare it. At the hint of a sniffle, she’d separate a raw egg and stir the yellow yolk with sugar and whiskey. Then she’d add the beaten egg white to the now frothy mixture, and feed it to me. I’m not sure it ever cured a cold, but the more whiskey she added, the better I felt. The concoction did have a name, but I can’t spell it.

My mother was a beautiful woman who loved to laugh and have fun, but cooking was not her forte. She didn’t really care what foods went together as long as she got them on the table in time for dinner. Therefore, it wasn’t unusual to be served an extremely well done steak with a few red crab apples perched on top. Salami and baloney sandwiches on rye bread, slathered with chicken fat. became a staple for lunch. I was so happy when my friends’ mothers served me peanut butter.  Like Grandma, Mother did have one redeeming dish. Her chicken soup was delicious. Which only goes to show that no one is perfect.

Life was so much easier when we didn’t know what foods were bad for us. Today, when I smell burnt toast, I become nostalgic for Mama’s cooking.

Frank Tyger said, “Discoveries are often made by not following instructions, by going off the main road; by trying the untried.” That’s the way I cook. I kind of look at recipe instructions and then I improvise.  Of course that’s not being scientific, because I can rarely replicate the dish. However, sometimes that is a very good thing.

Someone once said, “A recipe is a series of step-by-step instructions for preparing with ingredients you forgot to buy, using utensils you don’t own, to make a dish even the dog won’t eat.” W.C. Fields had the right idea when he said, “I cook with wine. Sometimes, I even add it to the food.”

I’ll drink to that!

Esther Blumenfeld (“The kitchen is a walk through at my house”) Johanna Stein.

GETTING OFF THE FENCE

Often, making a decision is difficult. I’m not sure that Queen Elizabeth chooses her own hats. It would be so much easier if she could blame an underling on the day that she looks as if someone had dumped a plate of spaghetti on her royal head.

I recently realized that I had fallen into the trap of over thinking---worrying too much about the future---about decisions that I may or may not have to make. I have vowed to stop driving my friends crazy. I have made the decision that by not making a decision, I am making a decision. Richard Bach said, “The best way to avoid responsibility is to say, “I’ve got responsibilities.” However, like it or not, everyday we are confronted with choices.

A newly wed once told me, “Being married is great! Finally, I can have cheese and popcorn for dinner without my mother scolding me.” Often choices involve how much you want to get out of your comfort zone. As far as I know, the young bride never fed her husband some crispy grasshoppers, but, sadly, the marriage didn’t last.

Mr. Google gives us these rules for making decisions:

1. Think about what you are doing before you do it. My husband and I came to Tucson in the summer. The temperature was 105 degrees. We bought a house in a week.

2. Avoid rash decisions. When our son, Josh asked us. “What did you do on your vacation?” My husband said, “We bought a house.”

3. Don’t over think. It causes stress.  Our son was speechless for the first time in his life.

4. Trust yourself and have faith in your instincts. We loved our realtor, Diane. She invited us to her home for a party. She and her husband went to San Diego for the rest of the summer, and we stole many of their friends.

I always told my son, “Are you going to regret the choices you made, or the ones you didn’t make? Follow your dreams while you are young,” Consequently; he pursued careers in science, journalism, flying, theatre, meteorology, and television. As a Science Writer for NASA, he has been able to combine many of his past experiences, and he better never say, “I wish I had.” Flying lessons were, of course, the hardest on his parents.  When I asked him, “How are the lessons coming along?”  He said, “Great!” but I have to perfect my landings.” A mother does not want to hear that!

Everything in life is timing. Playing the, “Would’a, Could’a, Should’a“ game is not productive. There is no time machine to send us back. The best I can figure out is that it is always a good idea to base my choices on the facts at hand rather than fiction, and to see the big picture.  If that doesn’t work, I can always toss a coin.

Mark Twain said, “People fall into three categories: Those who make things happen. Those who watch things happen. And, those who are left to ask, ‘What happened?’”

Esther Blumenfeld (“ If Pavlov tested his cat, he would have failed.”) Patrick H.T. Doyle

BLAME THE BRAIN

 Sitting on an airplane, on my way to London, got me to thinking about space. No, not the vast space of the floating astronauts, but rather the crammed cabin space afforded an airplane passenger. Why is it so uncomfortable to be jammed close to a stranger?

Anthropologist, Edward T. Hall, set forth the notion of personal space in 1966, when he introduced the concept of proxemics, describing the physical distances people try to keep from one another. He broke it down into: intimate space, personal space, social space and public space.  Later scientists discovered a brain structure called the amygdalae in each temporal lobe that controls fear and the processing of emotion.

So, when someone says, “Get out of my face!” They are not just being rude; it’s their amygdalae talking. The intimate zone is reserved for lovers, close friends, children and some family members (unless they are “Get-out-of-my-face relatives). Personal space is a bit more complicated. It depends on what distance is comfortable for you. It involves setting boundaries. If you are talking to someone, and they take a step back, it’s a tip off that you are invading their personal space.

President Lyndon Johnson would get his way by backing an adversary into a wall, and confronting him nose to nose. Personal space is also affected by a person’s position in society. Rich people expect a lot of personal space. That’s why they prefer a limousine to a subway at rush hour.

The first time I rode a subway at rush hour in New York, I stood hanging on to an overhead strap, and a little man with a beard rested his chin on my arm. There was nowhere for me to escape, except to imagine that I was on the Mongolian steppes instead of a subway. Even rich people don’t go there.

By replicating, “The dining room place setting experiment,” you can test the---“Too close for comfort” theory. When everyone is seated at the table, slowly move your water glass, and then your cutlery, and plate into your neighbor’s space. Eventually, he will move his place setting.

My husband’s, Uncle Max was an expert in invading social space. He hated asparagus. At one dinner party, when the stranger on his left was engaged in conversation, with the person on her left, he surprised her by dumping his asparagus on her plate. She kept right on talking and eating, and never knew what hit her space.

 Social space is reserved for conversation with friends, a chat with associates or group discussions. I’m sure there is an overlap of invasion here when someone gets too close for comfort at a cocktail party. One woman managed to splash red wine on my shoes, while at the same time spitting on my silk dress. I don’t remember the gossip, but it was juicy.

The last invasion of space is public space. Ever spread your blanket on a deserted beach. For some reason, that is an invitation for a family with bratty children to plop next to you, while kicking sand on both you and your space.

Recently, a classmate, recuperating from hip surgery, parked her car in an empty space in the empty parking lot. It gave her room to deal with her foot brace, maneuver her books and get to her walker. Inextricably, another classmate parked on the driver’s side of her car. Explaining her dilemma, she asked the woman to park her car elsewhere. So, the woman moved her car to block the passenger side of my classmate’s car. That way, she couldn’t get to her books and walker. It was a “Get out of my space” moment.

 When someone cuts in front of you, at a checkout line at the grocery store, you might want to try standing very close to that person. Push that cart as close as you can. It won’t make the line move faster, but with will play havoc with his amygdalae.  And, if you want to really test the theory of public space, the next time you get on an elevator, instead of not making eye contact and facing the doors, try facing the people on the elevator and say, “We have to stop meeting like this!”  But be sure to get off on the next floor.

Esther Blumenfeld (“I’m the only person standing between Richard Nixon and the White House.”) John Kennedy

THE WORLD IS SPINNING TOO FAST

If I were paranoid, I’d think that everyone is plotting to get me. When I woke up this morning, all of my windows were sealed shut and covered with plastic sheets. It was a very Egyptian experience. I immediately called a friend and wailed, “Help, I’m sealed into my house.” She replied, “Tut, Tut,” which was no help at all. Then I remembered that my house was being prepped for an outside coat of paint. I was not prepared for this dark, foreboding tomb/like experience.

I turned on some lights and switched on my computer, which had been updated to a new operating system called, Yosemite, by a technician named Sam. My computer informed me--- as only a computer can---that; ”Ha!  Ha! your AOL is blocked. I wasn’t amused. So, I punched through some plastic and crawled through an exit, dragging my Mac behind me, and I drove to Sam’s place to get Mac an enema.

Unblocked Mac, and I, arrived back home and my phone began to blink a voice mail signal. The problem was that the phone was busy before anyone had even bothered to call me. I proceeded to yell at the robot on the other end of the Comcast line until I finally got a real person on the phone. He ordered me to climb under my desk and put a pin into a little hole. I told him which hole he could insert any pin of his choice. Then I suggested that he “reset my voice mail modem message indicator.” No, I am not that smart. It’s a regular event when my phone rebels, and I am sure that my phone has driven Radio Shack out of business.

I had tickets to attend a play, so I got dressed and was looking forward to leaving my sealed up house. I punched through more plastic and opened the door. But before I could escape, I got a call from the theatre. The person on the other end of the line said, “Sorry, there won’t be a show tonight. The lead actress fell and hurt her mouth, so she can’t talk.” I said, “You should have cast a mime.” He didn’t think that was funny. Then I closed the door on my finger. Ouch!  So, with only nine fingers I discovered that, although the language on my newly unblocked AOL search engine is in English---the local news is now in Spanish. “Ola!”

So to sum up: 

My windows are blocked with plastic sheets.

My AOL needed an enema.

The local news is now in Spanish.

I had a busy phone with no one talking on it, and

I couldn’t see a play because the actress fell on her mouth, and

I slammed the door on my finger.

All in all, Steven Wright had it worse than I did.  He said, “My mechanic told me, ‘I couldn’t repair your brakes, so I made your horn louder.”’

Esther Blumenfeld (Have a nice day!)

LANGUAGE TIGHTROPE

“Sometimes I wonder whether the world is being run by smart people who are putting us on, or by imbeciles who really mean it!”  Conon O’Brien

Recently, scientists at the University of Maryland have expounded on the Gala Hypothesis, first articulated by scientists in the 1970’s; that Mother Earth is a living, breathing organism that needs life sustaining conditions for its survival. When a politician says, “I’m not a scientist,” I believe him. It’s the---“but”---that follows this statement that makes me queasy.

Whether it’s called “climate change” or “climate disruption,” something is obviously happening out there.  I know that cold is cold and hot is hot, but sometimes we don’t know what we’ve got. Some people are trying to help and/or find out.

The Japanese have pledged $450 million in aid to Pacific Island nations that are battling rising sea levels, and Brazil and Germany have co-funded a $9 billion, 1,000 foot Amazonian Tall Tower Observatory located in the largest contiguous rain forest on Earth. It will enable scientists to monitor temperature, green-gas levels and other chemical changes in Mother Earth’s atmosphere. I imagine that some of our politicians will blow it off as just another Tower of Babel.

So how are our politicians handling the problem? In 2000, White House official, Philip Cooney removed or altered climate research findings in several federal reports. In 2012, the North Carolina legislature voted that sea level predictions be ignored for future planning. And, Virginia lawmakers voted to only approve a study of the risks to their coastline if it did not mention “Climate Change.”

In Florida, storms and rising sea levels have allowed salt water to seep inland threatening the Everglades as well as Florida’s potable water. Scientists have warned that without action Joshua Tree National Park could soon lose its trees, and Glacier National Park could be a park without glaciers.

Consequently, governor Rick Scott of Florida, who famously said, “I’m not a scientist,” banned state employees from using the terms, “Global Warming,” or “Climate Change” in any reports or communications. Wisconsin, Governor Scott Walker, followed suite, banning staffers who manage thousands of acres of forest to talk about “Global Warming.”  Grand Haven, Michigan, Mayor Geri McCaleb, a skeptic of “Climate Change,” said, “History will bear out who has the right answers.”

So, with few answers, coupled with a basic mistrust of science, and the Federal Government, some of our politicians are pushed into a world of euphemisms that, as George Carlin said, “are commonly used by Americans to shade the truth or shield themselves from reality.” While “The Blob,” washes ashore on California beaches, killing thousands of seabirds and sea pups, I take inspiration from Pat McGinnis, City Manger of Grand Haven, Michigan, who instead of saying the dreaded words uses the euphemism, “Potential Flash Point.” 

Assuming that The Gala Hypothesis is correct, and that Mother Earth needs life sustaining conditions for her survival, I won’t scare people by writing about “Climate Change.” Instead, I suggest that Mother Earth is going through “The Change.” She is certainly old enough for Menopause. People all over the world can attest to the fact that climate has been irregular from month to month, and 75% of Arizonans admit that Mother Earth is having hot flashes. 

There is no denying that Mother Earth is having stormy mood swings that cause volcanic eruptions, tsunamis, and tornadoes. And while she has night sweats, and kicks off the covers of snow and ice, she also has oceans of rising emotions. In other places, she is bone-dry getting wrinkled fields of crop loss, and probably some hare loss along the way. No doubt about it, Mother Earth is going through “The Change”, and it isn’t pretty. A shot of sulfur might help, but I’m no scientist.

All I know is that the apple from “The Tree Of Knowledge” is still missing.

Esther Blumenfeld (“What good is it to have a nice house without a decent planet to put it on?”) Henry David Thoreau.