Topic 191: The Pleasures of Eating

Carol:

Hold the Butter, Please

I know what Megan is going to write about for today’s topic.  She has been taking pictures with her cell phone all weekend of the dishes she has prepared while she and Marc are taking a nutrition class that encourages a plant-based diet.  I am reaping the health benefits of what they are learning in the class. I had almond milk in my multi-grain cereal yesterday and 5 different veggies on my vegan pizza. There is no real cheese in the fridge, no yogurt, no meat. I miss the cheese.

My dictum is that I will follow their vegan routine at home and slip in the dairy, chicken and fish when we go out to eat. I had shrimp tempura at the Japanese restaurant the other day, and I bought a vegetarian green chili tamale at the Prescott Farmer’s market because the vegan black bean tamale Megan bought had cilantro in it. I think she does resent it when I “doctor” some of the vegan dishes, especially when I tell her how delicious something is while I’m doing the doctoring. Minor tinkering I call it.  A friend brought me a deli container of olives with a little mozzarella mixed in, so I sliced just a tad of the mozzarella and the olives onto the pizza. Megan hates olives. I hate cilantro. We make our accommodations.

The current food plan also eliminates most fats. I cut way back on the oil and haven’t put butter on anything for a while. Although… we have two ears of corn waiting for dinner tonight, and I just can’t imagine corn on the cob without a slice of butter on it. Corn and butter, they just go together. Hot, fresh cornbread with butter, or corn tortillas, or…hot buttered popcorn.

I have even adjusted my palate regarding popcorn, which is probably in the top 5 list of foods I could eat every day along with shrimp, asparagus, and onion soup. Not a bad combination for a semi-balanced non-vegan menu. In college when the dorm dining-room was closed on Sunday evenings, my roommate and I often would have chicken noodle soup, apples and popcorn for dinner. Great combo.  Since then I have owned a whole variety of popcorn poppers, including one that fit inside the microwave oven and didn’t require oil. Now, I’m lazy and just buy the bags.

Last Friday morning was a popcorn challenge. We went to the 9:30 am showing of the final Harry Potter movie.  My brain argued that 9:30 am is too early for popcorn (who makes those rules?).  However, Harry Potter movies are meant to be viewed with a big bag of popcorn, so my mouth overtook my brain and I bought a bag. But… I bought a medium instead of a large without butter. I was absolutely determined to make that bag last the whole movie, so I resorted to one of the great pleasures of my youth, rationing the popcorn by eating one at a time. Also, by nibbling off the small parts that stick out from the main body of the kernel.  Popcorn connoisseurs call those kernels “butterflies” and the less tender round kernels “mushrooms.” I also timed myself by not eating during quiet moments. Who likes the rustling of the popcorn bag or the crunch of a half-popped kernel during the sad scenes?

There you have it. I was able to enjoy one of my greatest eating pleasures at the wrong time of the day, without butter, and it lasted until the final 10 minutes of a very long movie. Okay, so I miss the butter.

Megan:

The Pleasures of Eating Well

Note the symmetrical arrangement of the fruit. I did that for you.

I’ve been planning for this topic all weekend by taking pictures of everything I ate.  But, before I get to that, I want to mention one thing. In 2004, when I was studying in England for the second time, my parents and brother came over for Christmas and together we went to Spain. It was a really great trip, except for one thing which maybe only I remember. I flat-out refused to eat in any restaurants that had menus with pictures of the food hanging in the windows.  Because the sun-faded photos made the food look gross.

There are some cooking blogs that do a good job with lighting and presentation that can make a plate of food look attractive and delicious. I have a friend who regularly posts pictures of her cooking on Facebook, but she’s got a nice camera and has had some training. I do not have a nice camera; I have a nice cell phone. So, I’m just warning you that I’m going to put up all these pictures, but the food may not look particularly appetizing.

Ok, then. Since I started this plant-based nutrition/vegan way of eating, people have been mostly supportive. The same friends who saw my teen-age vegetarianism as weird and rebellious now commend me for trying to make healthy choices. But the question I keep getting is, "But what do you eat? Salad? Broccoli?" And the answer is, yes. And lots of other things too.

On Saturday, I made hash browns for breakfast. Without using any oil, I combined frozen Ore-Ida Southern Style Hash Browns, onions and orange bell-peppers.  I also added some cajun seasoning for flavor. Despite the lack of oil, the potatoes still managed to crisp up nicely, and it was a tasty, filling meal.

When I make this again, I'll probably add some green and red peppers as well because I really like peppers and it will look more colorful and interesting. I've learned in my class that (naturally) colorful food has more nutrients.

Although the hash browns were very good, they take more time and effort than I'm willing to expend early in the morning. After walking 3 miles with the dogs, I'm usually pretty hungry when we get home, so I like to make a smoothie. It's quick and still very filling.

Smoothies been a breakfast favorite for as long as I can remember, and it was very easy to amend the recipe to exclude animal products. Up the left you can see the ingredients I used this morning -- frozen strawberries, a banana and a cup of no-sugar-added apple juice. I usually use orange juice, but we ran out. 

This recipe used to include a cup of yogurt (or, if my father was making it, a scoop of ice cream) but tastes just as good without the dairy. I prefer to use frozen fruit (except for the banana) because because it gives the drink a frosty, daiquiri-esque texture that is very refreshing as the day starts to heat up.

This morning, I added a piece of whole wheat toast with fresh almond butter for protein and some additional fiber. 

We usually get our fruits and vegetables from Bountiful Baskets -- which is a food co-op that purchases the produce whole sale. I order the basket on Monday, and collect it the following Saturday from a local park. For $15 dollars, we get a large laundry basket full of fresh produce. The entire project is run by volunteers, and we've been quite pleased with the result. The pears and plums in the top picture are what's left of last week's basket (pears and plums being our least favorite of the selection). 

I didn't order one for this weekend because my father is out of town, and Mom and I decided to try out the local farmer's market. For a small city, I was pretty pleased with the selection but we spent  almost $10 for two zucchini and three potatoes, so we'll be sticking with the baskets. Aside from the costly produce, the market did yield some great (also expensive) finds, including fresh pasta and home-made tamales. I got some vegan black bean tamales, and I paired them with three-bean brown rice dish I made up, with corn, kale, peppers and tofutti sour cream. This was definitely the best meal of the weekend.

Last night I made a curry I'd seen in a video I watched in the class. The recipe called for basmati rice, which used to be my favorite, but despite following the directions exactly, I totally overcooked it. The curry itself is made up of cauliflower, zucchini, potatoes, garbanzo beans, onions, tomatoes, garlic and ginger. I put in about twice as many vegetables as were mentioned in the video, but did not increase the curry seasoning so it was not as spicy as it could have been. There's enough left over to feed an army, and I'll probably eat it with brown rice the rest of the week. I'm going to use the leftover basmati to make a pudding. 

I added Daiya "cheese", made from tapioca. It melts like real cheese.

So, all those meals look good (well, they don't look good, but they taste good), but what happens when I get a craving for one of the old favorites? Pizza is what I crave most often and what I knew I would miss the most once I changed my eating habits. Since moving back to Prescott, I've discovered Papa Murphy's -- a "take & bake" place where they make the pizza in front of you, and then you cook it at home. All the ingredients are fresh, and the crust is thin which is how my mom prefers it, and we used to get one almost every week. So, imagine my surprise when in class, the instructor passed out 50% off coupons to Papa Murphy's. Apparently she knows the owners and was telling them about the class and they offered to start making vegan pizzas, and gave her the coupons to advertise in class. Prescott is not Portland -- there isn't a lot of choice for vegetarians in this town, let alone vegans, so this is pretty cool. As soon as I got the coupon, I headed right over.

So, there you have it. A sampling of a weekend's worth of vegan meals. I've been doing this for 3 weeks now and have lost 12 pounds (despite having M&M's twice at the movies). I think the reason I've been able to stick to it so far is because, although trying new foods is interesting, I have been able to "veganize" food I already loved -- like tamales and pizza. And ice cream.

Although, just because it's vegan doesn't make it healthy.

Harry Potter Day, Pt. 2

No essay today, we're off to see the final movie.

 

Happy Harry Potter Day!

 

Topic 190: The Responsibility of Being Sane

Carol:

“If You Can Keep Your Head”

Rudyard Kipling was popular when the young men of the Ivy League were writing their daily themes in 1915 and assigned the topic “the responsibility of being sane.” They were probably more likely to think about Kipling’s 1895 poem “If” than to worry about driving themselves insane from the responsibility to attain academic accolades and become renowned doctors, lawyers or military officers.  As young men well-schooled in the classics, they would have known the latin derivation of “sane” as meaning simply healthy, of being well in both body and mind.

Kipling’s poem is an inspirational primer for “sane” behavior in the tradition of gentlemanly stoicism. Living in Canada for seven years, I read a lot of Kipling and In high school memorized “If” even though the ending left me out: “Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it, And—which is more—you’ll be a Man my son!” I love the poem anyway for its emphasis on resilience, forgiveness of the failures of others and acceptance of fate. Two of its lines are written on the wall of the players’ entrance to Centre Court at Wimbledon: “If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster and treat those two impostors just the same.”
 

Kipling’s own life was met with “Triumph and Disaster.”  Born in Bombay, Kipling was sent to England at the age of 7 to board with a family for six years. These were such unhappy years that he later would describe the holidays he sometimes spent with his aunt in London as “a Paradise that I verily believe saved me” (source “Kipling Society”).
 

Kipling began writing as a student, his first verses published in the early 1880’s. His most familiar works were written between 1894-1906, and in 1907 he was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature.  The Swedish Academy acknowledged some controversy in its choice of Rudyard Kipling, for his use of “coarse language” and slang. However, the presentation speech ended with the following:
 

Kipling has given us descriptions in vivid colours of many different countries. But the picturesque surface of things has not been the principal matter with him; he has always, in all places, had a manly ideal before him: ever to be ‘ready, ay ready at the call of duty’ and then, when the appointed time comes, to ‘go to God like a soldier’ “ (source: Nobel Prize Speech)

Perhaps that notion of duty helped Kipling cope with the  loss of his son John during World War I, reported missing on the Western Front in 1916.

“Oh, dear, what comfort can I find?”
    “None this tide,
    Nor any tide,
Except he did not shame his kind—
    Not even with that wind blowing, and that tide.” (from “My Boy Jack”)

Whether or not “My Boy Jack” (1919) referred specifically to Kipling’s son or to any son lost in war, it epitomizes the same ideals from “If” of resoluteness and pride.
 

The same year John Kipling died in an unknown place, those Ivy League students were scribbling their compositions. How many of them would soon march off to War steeped in the stiff-upper lip tradition of Kipling’s generation, called by a responsibility to maintain their sanity, to protect the well-being of family and country through self-sacrifice? How many of their parents also took comfort in Kipling?

Then hold your head up all the more,
This tide,
And every tide;
Because he was the son you bore,
And gave to that wind blowing and that tide.

Sources:
All information on Rudyard Kipling and full copies of “If” and “My Boy Jack” are found at the Kipling Society website
1907 Nobel Prize Presentation Speech
        

Megan:

The Irresponsibility of Being Insane

The worst thing to call someone is crazy. It’s dismissive. –Dave Chappelle, 2006.

This is one of the topics we pulled earlier in the year and then threw back into the basket. I can’t speak for my mother’s reasons, but I found fault with the premise of the topic. However, we’re winding down now… only 60 topics left, and there’s no point in throwing it back again. We rarely have topics that require us to tread lightly in order to avoid offending people, I don’t want to brush this off with humorous anecdotes and cartoons.

In this case, I must consider my friends and family members who suffer from mental illness. Trivializing their difficulties is out of the question. And it’s out of consideration for them that I am so offended by the implication that being “insane” is an act of immaturity or irresponsibility. I briefly mentioned this to my mother and she suggested that perhaps we could take a more carefree approach to the ideas of sanity and insanity. So, think of chaos, of children screaming, running around and acting crazy.

Acting crazy.

Our vocabularies are infused with out-dated and offensive terms for mental illness. In England, if someone is acting silly, they are called mental or a head case. Over here, you still hear terms like demented, nutty, psycho, and schizo. I used a thesaurus to come up with that list, which is only a partial selection of the terms we once used for the mentally ill that now describe socially unacceptable behavior. And one of the synonyms listed for Crazy is irresponsible.

On the other hand, it’s pretty much common knowledge that it is not okay to use these terms for someone who actually is mentally ill. Political correctness is often bemoaned as having been taken too far, but as with racist and homophobic language, referring to a person who is mentally ill with the same language that describes unacceptable behavior is the same as saying that person is unacceptable.
 

Obviously, there are arguments to be made about context, and about the constant evolution of the English language. Words that once meant one thing now mean another. Take the word “Gay” for example. It used to mean happy, now it means homosexual, but in other contexts it is offensive. I once challenged a housemate when he used the word derisively. He said, “I didn’t mean gay like Gay. I meant gay like rubbish.” I told him that, while I understood that he didn’t actually believe that the board game he’d just lost was homosexual, using the word in that negative context implied a correlation between homosexuality and garbage.
 

 Setting aside arguments about context and linguistic evolution, I still have a problem with equating Responsibility with Sanity. Linking those words, and by implication, their opposites –suggests that sanity is achievable simply by exerting some self-control. And that is crazy. 

Source:
Look up "Crazy" in Thesaurus.com

Topic 189: On Advising the Almighty

Carol:

Search Me

In the communications business, Google is as “almighty” as it gets.   Our Daily Theme website receives inadvertent visits from people using Google’s “key word” search process.  Most of those random visitors face disappointment when they don’t find out how to avoid paying a traffic ticket in Prescott, about the life cycle of shrews, or how Elizabeth Taylor’s children are handling her death, all of which brought up our website because of matched words or phrases rather than actual content. 
 

Early version of Google server

Popping up on the first page of a Google list is important, especially if you’re a for-profit site or include advertising on your webpage.  According to my daughter the librarian, most people never move beyond the first page of a Google search even though what they really want or need may be way down the list prioritized by the Google search engine itself.  So, designing online marketing sites or advertising materials requires expertise, the advice of computer wizards who come up with the exact page design and word combinations to make optimum impact on Google’s search technology, which is called PageRank (source: Google Fun Facts). 
 

So, who advises the almighty Google? The official advisors of Google are the Board of Directors and Executive Officers of the company which became a public corporation in 2004, in an online sale of stock that made many of Google’s employees instant millionaires. Central to the mission of the company and its leadership are founders Larry Page and Sergey Brin, who created Google in 1998 when they were Ph.D students at Stanford University.  Current Stanford President John L Hennessey has been a board member since 2004, Princeton University President Shirley Tighman since 2005. 
 

When the company went public, Page and Brin promised investors that they would retain the original philosophy of the company, which includes among its 10 core principles “You can make money without doing evil,” “Democracy on the Web Works” and “Focus on the user and all else will follow” (source: “Our Philosophy”) These are lofty purposes that generally are reflected in Google’s business practices.
 

Google Co-Founder Larry Page

But, what happens when these values conflict with each other? On an issue like censorship, for instance, with the definitely-not-Democratic Republic of China. The original licensing agreement included abiding by Chinese laws that “filtered” (i.e. censored access to) information.  In 2009, for eight days in June clustered around the 20th anniversary of Tiananmen Square, Google blocked all key word searches under “Tiananmen Square” by sending an error message.  Once publicity got out about the censorship practices in China, the company faced international criticism. Somebody must have been advising the almighty Google because its officers decided to automatically send users of the censored Chinese Google site to the uncensored Hong Kong search engine. In negotiations for renewal of Google’s licensing contract, the company agreed to drop the automatic redirecting and require users to click on a link to get to the uncensored sight. (source: “China renews Google License..). 
 

One of the other tenets of Google’s philosophy is “Fast is better than slow.” Although they may be speed demons in the internet business wars, I’m sure they have been advised by their Board of Directors that fast doesn’t always work in the culture wars.
 

Sources
“China renews Google license, ending standoff.” CNNMoney.com 2010.
“Google Fun Facts.”
Image of Google’s First Production Server. Wikipedia. Author: Steve Jurvetson 

Image of Larry Page, Google Founder. Author Marcin Mycielski, European Parliament 

“Our Philosophy. Ten Things We Know to be True.” Google.com
      

Megan:

I’ve offered a lot of advice to God over the years. During the height of my religious devotion, in my early-mid teens, I carried on a near constant internal monologue of unstructured and informal prayer. My journals from that time shifted from Dear Diary to Dear God (– always in letter format. Even now, I write best with a specific audience in mind, and begin many of my entries with Dear…) Anyway, I was taught in school and church that God doesn’t take specific requests, and that I should pray for the strength to accept His will. That seemed pretty specific to me. Usually, I would just let Him know what I wanted, why it made sense that I should get it, and then end with something along the lines of “whatever You think is best.” This is not unlike how I ask things of my parents.

Even though God and I don’t talk like we used to, I’m never short of suggestions in a moment of panic. Generally the requests involve the quick return of Milo after he’d run off chasing a rabbit or the safe landing of an airplane. I realize that it is not really fair to make requests of Someone for whom I do nothing in return, but rational thoughts are hard to come by when you think you’re about to die.

Even though I’m not religious anymore, I still think there is value in that constant internal monologue. Instead of calling it prayer, I think of it as a form of meditation or even positive visualization. A few years ago I read and then watched the film version of Rhonda Byrne’s The Secret. If you are not familiar with it, the concept is basically that positive thinking and visualization can affect the outcome of events and inspire change in one’s life. This is the sort of thing that usually makes me roll my eyes and make sarcastic and cynical jokes. But in a weird mood, I gave it a try and (because I was broke at the time) I visualized money coming to me. Over the next two days, I received several hundred dollars in the mail –a refund after being unknowingly overcharged, as well as money I was owed but had forgotten about. Maybe it was a coincidence, but I was completely freaked out and stopped doing it.

Recently, I’ve started trying positive thinking and visualization again, this time as a way to keep myself motivated in the course of my experiment in healthy living. It feels less corrupt than just sitting around wishing for money (although sometimes I do imagine an anonymous benefactor stepping in to take over the burden currently being shouldered by my not-anonymous parents). I think the reason it feels better this time is I’m visualizing the action as well as the result. After all, God helps those who help themselves.

Topic 188: On Being Small

Carol:

Nano, Nano

Today’s paper had a photograph of a baby born last Friday, a whopper at 16 pounds. Ouch.  Pretty well anything that is bigger, higher, taller, longer gets notice: the world record giant pumpkin at 1810.5 pounds, the tallest cornstalk at over 31 feet (higher than an elephant’s eye), the longest bull horns (4 feet 7”) (Guinness Book of World Records).  We tend to think of the other end of the measurement spectrum as wanting in some way, too small is stunted, too short a range is a dud. But, modern science has created a whole new world of miniaturization and a vocabulary to describe that world.
 

Micro: Greek prefix meaning “small.” In the metric system, used by every industrialized country except for the United States, “micro” means 1 millionth of something. But, in common language it identifies any number of smallish devices (microphone, microbe, microscope, micrometer). The microchip is the miniature “wafer” of semiconducting material that carries the electronic devices or transistors that run cell phones, computers, cameras, I-pods, etc.

When microchips were first invented, only a few transistors could ride on a wafer, but current technology has increased that capacity to millions or even billions of transistors on a single chip (source; “Integrated Circuit”).  Microchips about the size of a large grain of rice are routinely implanted into not only domestic pets for identification but wild animals and livestock for tracking and research.

Cat X-Ray with microchip

Nano: another Greek prefix for a measurement that is a billionth of something, most often used in science and electronics.  So, a nanosecond is one billionth of a second or 1 thousandth of a microsecond.  How people ever created the equipment to be able to measure something in nanoseconds I don’t know.  But, that’s what I get for studying literature and not computer science, and what I get for using Wikipedia rather than a physics or computer science academic journal.
 

Hopper: is not a Greek prefix.  Hopper, as in “Grace Hopper” is a link at the bottom of the Wikipedia entry on “nano.” She was an American scientist who was a pioneer in computer science. Her concepts led to the development of modern programming language such as COBOL, FORTRAN, etc. Hopper spent the last part of her life working as a consultant for Digital Equipment Corporation, travelling a lecture circuit to its different facilities. Hopper received standing ovations for her presentations and was particularly well known for her ability to illustrate the concept of the “nanosecond.”
 
Hopper graduated from Vassar in1928 with degrees in mathematics and physics, earned graduate degrees at Yale. In 1943, she volunteered for the US Navy Reserve, graduated first in her class at Naval Reserve Midshipmen’s School, and ended up working on the Mark I computer project. The next 30 years of her life measure the evolution of computer science. Thank her for introducing the term “debugging” into our computer vocabulary.
 

Grace Murray Hopper maintained her loyalty to military service throughout her career. After being recalled to reserve duty several times, she retired for good in 1986,   the oldest commissioned officer in the US Navy and a few months shy of her 80th birthday.  One of the few US military vessels named for a woman, the USS Hopper was launched to honor her in 1996 and nicknamed  Amazing Grace. (source: “Grace Hopper”)
 

Amazing Grace, Rear Admiral Grace Murray Hopper, had to get an exemption to enlist in the Navy back in 1943  because at 105 pounds, she was 15 pounds under the weight limit. Talk about miniaturization. 

 

Sources:
“Grace Hopper.”  Wikipedia.
Image of cat with identifying microchip above the spine. Wikipedia. Attribution: Joelmills 

“Integrated Circuit.” Wikipedia.

Megan:

On Being (Sort of) Small

I don’t think of myself as a small person. At 5 foot 3 inches, I am the shortest full-grown member of an extended family that tends to be taller than average. If I sit back in a chair, my feet barely touch the ground. I have the smallest hands of anyone I’ve met except for my one friend who is also shorter than me. I make fun of her shortness, but she is not small either. Our voices and opinions and laughter make us seem bigger than we are, even if we are whispering. Even though I am used to looking up at the world around me, I rarely ever feel short or small.

There are a few exceptions. I eat soup with a teaspoon, because a soupspoon is too big for my mouth. Trying on pants is a hassle. Regular pants come up my chest, long ones up to my chin. Do you know how hard it is to find a pair of pants that are both petite and plus-sized ? When I joined my softball team, I requested an XL uniform shirt to be sure it would fit. It is comfortably wide enough, but the ¾ length sleeves extend past my fingertips.

My shorter friend has the disadvantage of having tiny feet. Her legs might as well end at the ankles, is what I mean. She has to wear children’s shoes or else order online.  So, she has little patience when I complain about the inconvenience of being short. Reaching high shelves is a problem for both of us. At home, I use a step stool or my father. I was over at my friend’s house the other day and I opened a kitchen cabinet looking for a cup. The first two shelves were perfectly organized, but the highest shelf was a disheveled mess of Tupperware. Unable to reach that shelf, she tosses items up and then shuts the door quickly to stop them from bouncing out. She also has a step stool (and a husband) but this system works for her, I guess. 

Recently, my mother and I visited family in California. My aunt and uncle are less mobile than they used to be, and have difficulty bending over to pick things up off the floor. So, they have this grabber thing that does it for them. Mom thought it was a nifty invention and kept mentioning that she would like one, so I picked on up from the hardware store. It’s useful as long as we can remember where it is, but since I have no problems bending over, it was mainly a novelty toy as far as I was concerned.

The other day, we discovered another use for it. I was getting ready to re-upholster that chair, and needed a sewing kit. I have one my mother gave me when I was little, but it was in the back of my closet and I couldn’t reach it. Mom offered to get it down for me, which I thought was strange because she’s started shrinking the past few years and is now only barely taller than me.  But she walked into my room with the grabber thing, and used it to pull down the sewing box. The grabber thing is not mean to support any real weight though, so the box fell out of its grip and landed on her head. Still, it did the trick.

Topic 187: Laughter as a social asset

Carol:

Did you hear the one about the Priest who….

I really can’t think of any profession that doesn’t require a sense of humor. And that includes religious vocations. I haven’t seen a job description for minister, rabbis or priests, but people skills must be on the list, including not just compassion and patience but a sense of  “Humor In Uniform “

One of my favorite Mary Tyler Moore episodes revolves around inappropriate laughter. Chuckles the Clown, a rarely seen but often gossiped-about character on the show, dies under bizarre circumstances; prompting all kinds of jokes in the newsroom by Mary Richards’ colleagues. The always prim Mary is appalled at their poor taste and lack of respect for the dead. Later, Mary lapses into uncontrollable giggles during the minister’s eulogy at Chuckles’ funeral, then into loud guffaws as the rest of the attendees remain somber, even shocked at her behavior. The minister turns the situation around, encouraging Mary to “Laugh…Laugh for Chuckles,” at which Mary bursts into tears. This episode is ranked by TV Guide as #3 in list of televisions “100 Great Episodes of All Times” (source:  “Chuckes Bites the Dust.”)

A few months ago I went to a funeral for a judge who died in his early sixties after a  battle with brain cancer.  The church was packed with  colleagues, friends and family,  all of whom  admired and loved him as a special person of humanity and faith. Certainly there were tears and mourning, but the judge’s wife, son and large extended family chose to honor him with laughter and whimsy. Every participant in the service, every family member wore black trousers, white dress shirt and a large necktie from the judge’s own infamous collection of outrageous, gaudy, unique ties. Music provided by the folk choir his wife directed, and which he had belonged to for many years, included a recording with his voice.  How many people get to sing at their own funeral? His wife smiled, quipped and encouraged a spirit of gratitude for a life well-lived, if short, and for a dignity that was anything but stuffy.  The laughter followed us to the church basement after the service as we mingled with family over lunch, humor alleviating the awkwardness that often accompanies such social occasions.

In both funerals, the imaginary and the real, the tone of humor was encouraged by the “Pastor in Charge.” When I announce the music at our Saturday church service, I have learned to wait while ‘Father Woz” slips in a joke after the final blessing and before the last hymn. The congregation appreciates his humor, which often involves a story that sets up a pun or corny joke. Father Woz even self-published a collection of his favorite jokes to raise money for charitable projects. But, one of my favorite homilists is a big, tall, wide, loud convert from Wyoming who does a terrific job of poking fun at himself before he slides beautifully  into the gospel message.

I have no doubt that laughter is a social asset, but is it a spiritual one as well? I took me a while to wade through all the websites that popped up when I googled “Is laughter good for the soul?” but I found a website with Bible quotes. Proverbs 17.22 “A joyful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones.”

So, in honor of  Father Woz, I’ll end my essay with a joke:

Sources:
 “Chuckles Bites the Dust.” Wikipedia.  

Megan:

Laughter is my only social asset

So, maybe you noticed, maybe you didn’t… but we forgot to write on Friday. Mom had an early morning appointment and I was busy doing very important things that I not going to share because I cannot remember them. I know I walked 3 miles in the morning and then 2 miles that evening, but I remember nothing of the hours between except that at one point, mom looked at me and said, “Hey… we forgot to write our essays.” And I said I was too tired to write (on account of the walking 5 miles) so we left it until today, both of us hoping that the extra days would give us a chance to come up with something funnier to say.

Let’s see… what else happened this weekend? On Saturday, my father and I climbed Thumb Butte with the dogs. It’s not a long or difficult hike unless you are me, and you haven’t climbed that mountain in more than 15 years. So, we went up the shallow side and came down the steep side, and if you’ve ever hiked with a really strong puppy who doesn’t know how to heel, you know there are benefits and draw backs. Bella pulled me up the mountain, but nearly killed me on the way back down. Dad and I switched dogs halfway down, and by the time we got to the bottom, Bella knew how to heel. Afterwards, Dad commented on how different he was treated by the people we passed while he walked Bella instead of Milo. People smiled and talked to him while he had the puppy, but avoided him when he had Milo (probably because Milo looks like a scary dog). I too, have noticed the puppy phenomenon in the past, but on this particular day I was focused on staying upright on legs made of jell-o.

The rest of Saturday was spent running errands, going to see Horrible Bosses (which was hilarious if you like really bad language, which I do) and then dinner at a Mexican Restaurant. I managed to stay vegan with the entrée, but blew it with the sopapilla for dessert. It was probably this lapse that caused me to cut Sunday’s walk short because I had what my nutrition instructor refers to as McDougall’s Revenge (McDougall being the name of the doctor who wrote the book on the particular type of vegan diet we are attempting to follow). 

After I recovered, my father and I went to a Native American Art Show that he got free tickets to in exchange for allowing the exhibitors to park in his building. That was pretty nice except for and handful of white artists who called themselves names like Felicity Honeycomb or Terrence Ladykiller, which I thought might be offensive, but I couldn’t really tell if it was, so I was just uncomfortable. Then I saw a statue I liked and turned into the jackass who says too loudly, “Hey, that would go really well with our living room sofa.”

When I got home, I made a vegan pizza (again, not according to McDougall’s plan, but still so delicious). Mom had some, and she did this thing she does with everything I make, where she tells me how good it is and then she completely changes it. “This is the best pizza I’ve ever hard, “she said, and then added olives and real cheese.  I don’t take it personally, but next time she’s making her own damn pizza.

Finally, I spent the rest of Sunday re-upholstering a chair my mother bought from a neighbor for $5. I streamed Bones from Netflix to watch while I worked on the chair, and the entire project took 8 episodes. I was really enjoying myself and started thinking maybe this could be a new career path for me, restoring old furniture, but when I finished, I couldn’t straighten my back and my fingers were bleeding from repeated pricks by this giant curved needle, and I changed my mind. The chair looks awesome though.

I tried to take a "before" picture, but I forgot to press the button.

Topic 186: On Deceiving Oneself

Carol:

What’s Up, Doc?   

I haven’t pulled a topic out of the daily theme basket lately that really excited or challenged me.  Megan thinks it’s because we are getting down to the end of the basket where the topics we rejected over the last nine months are starting to pile up. I think it’s because the topics are starting to overlap in my mind, and I feel like “been there, done that.” Frankly, I’m deceiving myself here with excuses. I’m often not enthusiastic because I have given in to one of my demon qualities, procrastination. And, when I rush to finish an essay instead of letting ideas percolate, my efforts become mediocre.
 

Trickster Coyote

Today, I procrastinated on getting my materials ready for the OLLI class I am co-facilitating on “Mythology and the Human Experience.” My job was to prep the introduction  for a segment on Native-American Trickster myths (raven, coyote, spider and hare). Trickster figures are “self-deceivers.” They often think they have the cunning and imagination to outsmart everyone else. They flaunt the tribal rules, go against the natural order of things, and end up oftentimes getting smacked for it in different ways.  In their elaborate efforts to deceive others, they deceive themselves into thinking this next time, this next trick…they will prevail. They DO prevail often enough to keep trying. I guess you might say they are “sophomoric,” the incarnation of the wise fool.
 

One such trickster is the Rabbit.  Like all tricksters, Rabbit boasts that he can do anything anybody else can...and better. He deceives himself into thinking that cunning will surpass his true nature so that he can fly like a bird or swim like an otter. In a Cherokee tale, even though he can’t swim, Rabbit shows off to Otter by “proving” that he eats ducks just like Otter.  He fashions a noose and rope, then dives from a bank into the water to catch a meal of duck just like Otter does. After several sputtering efforts, he reaches a duck and throws a noose over its head. The bird flies up from the water with Rabbit still hanging onto the noose. Rabbit cannot hold on and lets go of the rope, falling into a large tree stump: “and there he stayed until he was so hungry that he had to eat his own fur, as the rabbit does when he is starving.” (source; Mooney 40).
 

Rabbit eventually finds a way out of the tree using his cunning. Like the Energizer Bunny, the Trickster always keeps on going despite starving, drowning, incinerating and other near-death experiences. 
 

Trickster Br'er Rabbit

The trickster Rabbit appears in other cultures besides the folklore of the Cherokee, such as western, central and southern African stories. They are the basis of the southern stories of Bre’r Rabbit and the Uncle Remus stories, which Joel Chandler Harris wrote and published from oral forms. Looney Tunes brought us Bugs Bunny, who has many Trickster qualities except that his trickery usually leave him on top in his confrontations with Elmer Fudd, Yosemite Sam, etc. Imagine the voice of Bugs Bunny as he speaks the words of his creator Bob Clampett:  “I always treat the contest with my pursuers as 'fun and games.' When momentarily I appear to be cornered or in dire danger and I scream, don't be consoined[sic] – it's actually a big put-on” (source: “Bugs Bunny”).
 

I see that my morning has disappeared, and I need to finish up. I hear in my head the words of another famous rabbit “I’m late, I’m late for a very important date…”


Source:
“Bugs Bunny.” Wikipedia.

Mooney, James.  Myths of the Cherokee.  P. 40

Megan:

On Deceiving Oneself

In a different mood, I might have a different response to this topic. I might think of all the times I’ve said things like “I let myself believe…” or “I fooled myself…” or “I was lying to myself…” We claim an ability to “trick” ourselves, when in reality we are belatedly trying to justify an action that we knew was wrong. I don't believe it is possible to deceive your own self.

Examples of other kinds of deception abound. Commercial advertising, for example, often deceives consumers by pairing a product with a desirable or aspirational image (ie shampoo with a supermodel), which suggests that the former produced the latter, and can do the same for you!  By inundating the public (and especially girls and young women) with unnatural and unattainable standards of beauty, these companies ensure a continuous demand for their products. But this is common knowledge, right? Everyone knows that stick thin models are bad examples for insecure teenage girls. Yet new ads come out all the time, for diet plans and prepackaged “healthy snacks” all following the same template -- because it works, because people still buy the products, because people still want to believe.

In the nutrition class I am taking, we recently watched a video lecture about how to respond to people who will criticize or naysay the benefits of a vegan diet. The lecturer was a psychologist named Doug Lisle, author of The Pleasure Trap (from where his lecture was drawn). He pointed out that the challenges will come from two separate groups – from those who are nutritionally ignorant (“Where do you get your protein?”) and from those who know the benefits, but for whatever reason choose not to follow the diet themselves. And, he warned us,  it is from this second group that the criticisms will be more emotional and manipulative. Alcoholics in recovery often lose their drinking friends, who perceive abstinence to be an indictment of their own behavior. Dr. Lisle warns that people who “know the truth” but are unable to apply it in their own life, will feel threatened and judged by one who can.  But it is Ego, rather than self-deception, that provokes this reaction.

I use these two examples on purpose, and I want to acknowledge the “hypocrisy.” I’m very vocal about my resentment of the advertising industry, and not because I am able to rise above and see it for what it is. I resent it because I have fallen for it. I buy the department store makeup, the hair dye, and the shoes that are supposed to make my ass look great. I’ve resisted dieting in the past (with one dangerous exception*) because I didn’t want to be one of those women – obsessed with calorie counting and scales and “a moment on the lips, forever on the hips.” I told myself being overweight was a way to rebel against the superficial.

I don’t consider veganism a “diet.” For myself, this is a bit of an experiment. What I’m learning in class makes sense to me, and I’m seeing results. I don’t just mean weight loss. It’s easier for me to get up in the morning, and I have more energy. I don’t feel tired after I eat. So, I’m going to stick with it for a while and see how it goes, even if it does seem that by trying to lose weight I’m allowing myself to be deceived by a superficial and artificial ideal.

* I tried the Cambridge Diet a few years ago when a lot of my colleagues were also doing it. I lost a lot of weight very quickly, but my hair started falling out and my gums began to recede. I am more concerned about keeping my teeth and hair than I am about losing weight – probably because toothless, bald women are not considered attractive in our society.

Topic 185: Animal Facial Expressions

Carol:

Making Faces                   

 Lots of websites help pet owners interpret the facial expressions and body language of their animals. That includes such variables as the position of the tail, alignment of the body, position of the eyes, lips and teeth, and appearance of hackles. Vocalization is another thing all together. Mostly, with domestic animals, I think we interpret animal facial expressions as we would human expressions. Lips curl up as if to smile says, “Look, I’m happy to see you.” Eyes look sad, happy, or angry.  We spend a lot of time in the daily theme talking about the antics of our two canine pets and the challenges of introducing a puppy into our once placid environment.. Dogs have always been a part of my life.  But in reality there is one animal I have always loved to  watch with fascination on television or at the zoo. Chimpanzees.

I have viewed almost every documentary about the work and life of Jane Goodall, and I was given time off from work to hear her speak when she came to Yale. The large room was absolutely full of students crammed into every possible space. Twenty-five years later, she continues to attract the interest—and affection of people all over the world. And, her website “Lessons for Hope” provides opportunities for students and teachers to learn more about chimp behavior. She describes her experiences with the chimpanzee William in her work The Shadow of Man (68). William, a scarred, submissive male used both facial expressions and hand gestures to send notice to other adult males that he knew his inferior status; he would “often pull back the corners of his lips and expose his teeth in a nervous grin.” (source: Lessons for Hope)

Researchers continue to examine the behavior of chimpanzees, including how they communicate using facial expressions and body language. The Yerkes National Primate Research Center housed at Emory University (Georgia) conducted research into Chimpanzee facial expressions under the direction of director Lisa Parr, not just to learn more about chimpanzees but to help understand “the evolution of human emotional communication” (source: Science Daily). Parr notes that the study has determined chimpanzee expressions to be much more complex than they expected, requiring more detailed studies. For instance, an open mouth and bared teeth that may appear to be “playful” must also be examined for muscle action, whether the eye brow is raised, etc.

When we say a chimpanzee, or any animal for that matter, smiles or pouts or frowns, we are associating human emotions to their expressions that may be inappropriate.  Right now, my dog (the well-behaved prematurely grizzled one) is looking right at me. He is in a full state of relaxation with ears slightly cocked, lower lip jutting out a bit (caught in his teeth again), and I would interpret that to mean he is relaxed but alert—wondering if I’m going to come over and give him a treat or a pat on the head. He’s tired because he had a big adventure on his morning walk. When he turned around at the sound of barking behind him, he took Marc by surprise and leapt for a young coyote, dragging his extension leash behind him, ruining in fact the second one in several weeks. The first time it was a rabbit. I wasn’t there to observe his facial expression, but it was probably one of completely satisfaction since he had been in full running mode all over the hills for about 15 minutes.

But, I wasn’t going to talk about dogs today.

 

Sources;

“Chimpanzee Facial Expressions…” Science Daily. 26 Mar 2007.      

Image of chimpanzee at LA Zoo. Wikipedia

Megan:

Animal Facial Expressions: a photo essay

 

I spent a long time this morning looking at the photos I've taken of Bella and Milo, and I have to be honest. There's little change to their to their expressions. Milo almost always looks resigned and calm (but maybe that's just the expression he adopts when I pick up my phone to snap a picture).

Considering that Bella is one of the clumsiest dogs I have ever seen, she does manage to look dignified,  and even noble every now and then. Of course, it could be the camera angle.

 

Usually, Bella looks like this:

 

Milo, on the other hand, almost always looks dignified. Except when I force him out of his comfort zone. Here, he is looking profoundly embarrassed.

Milo likes to hang out on the porch in the sunshine. Until a certain someone irritates him and then he retreats to higher ground.

Note that the furniture in disarray, and the torn screen courtesy of Miss Bella.

 Speaking of Miss Bella. She has a bit of a temper. This is the only picture I could get of her in "demon" mode. The white flashes by my blurry finger are her teeth.

But she's a pretty good girl, aside from her occassional outbursts. We finally got her the pool she's always wanted, which she seems to enjoy.

Topic 184: On Keeping Step

Carol:

Oh Say, Can You Step

This weekend, I got out of step with the traditional rituals that mark America’s birthday as an independent nation in the making.   According to the U.S. Census bureau, a government agency which should know of what it speaks, the rituals of  4th of July include parades, fireworks and backyard barbecues.
 

The parade part I have always loved—any procession that includes music, costumes and marching in cadence. One of my favorite 4th of July parades was at Sequoia National Park in 1986. Enthusiastic campers from all over the world cheered and waved as the park employees processed through the visitors’ center either on foot in their official uniforms or riding on a variety of park vehicles (trucks, fire engines, jeeps, lawn mowers, anything that moves).  Prescott has two parades as part of  its annual Frontier Days. The official 4th of July parade on  Saturday attracts marching bands from around the country, equestrian groups, cloggers, and politicians, especially  during election time.  But, the best parade is the day before, the Kiwanis Kiddie Parade, which circles the Courthouse Square on Friday morning.  I was pretty proud of the “horse” Marshall rode in that parade when he was 3 years old, his tricycle sporting a mop for a tail and a painted cereal box for a head. Somehow, we didn’t make it to either parade this year.
 

I always liked the fireworks too, although I can count as many times fog or rain obscured the fireworks when we lived in California.  In drought-plagued Arizona we always wait for the announcement…will the fire conditions cancel the fireworks? When the kids were little, we went to the high school for the official Prescott display, picnicking on the football bleachers while we waited for the sun to go down and the music and fireworks show to begin. Lately, I have enjoyed sitting on our back deck with the same kind of anticipation for darkness to come, at which point we would begin to see one after the other—Prescott Valley, Prescott and then off to the left Chino Valley—the skies light up from the tri-city celebrations.  Last night, we had the best light show of all, magnificent monsoon lightning storms in all directions,  illuminating massive clouds and cracking thunder.  Soon the insects got to us, so we moved indoors; but,  I did catch a glimpse of the Prescott fireworks show from the window of our loft.
 

Barbecue?  Well, we’ve got a grill, but Megan and Marc are taking a nutrition class that espouses a plant-based (i.e. Vegan) diet. No oil, no dairy, no barbecued chicken, no big, thick juicy hamburgers or chips and dip. Saturday’s menu was Louisiana rice and beans without the Andouille sausage. The menu for 4th of July was steamed broccoli accompanied by a medley of barley, butternut squash, apples, and red peppers. Dessert was fresh strawberries dolloped with coconut milk ice cream. It was delicious actually, and especially so because I didn’t have to do the cooking (thanks, Megan).
 
So, what is Independence Day without the parades, the fireworks and the barbecue? Well, I may not have been keeping step with 4th of July traditions, but I did have family here to celebrate the weekend.  We set up the pop-up camper in the yard for a min camp-out, and the littlest family members played all over of our multi-storey house.  Frankly, I just didn’t have time to miss the parade, the fireworks or the barbecue.
 

P.S.  As inconvenient as it is to heft loads of groceries or laundry up all those stairs, sometimes I am really happy to keep steps.

Megan:

On Keeping Step

There’s something about dancing that must be instinctual. Babies dance all the time, often without encouragement. I’ve watched my little cousins, in the midst of another activity, suddenly do a little hop-skippity thing to the music, and then go back to what they are doing.  Small children dance without hesitation, self-consciousness or embarrassment.  That part comes later.

I remember, in first grade, being part of a dance group that performed to New Kids on the Block songs on the playground. In 1989, with crimped hair and sideways pony tails, three pairs of neon socks and white high stop sneakers, we certainly looked the part.  Have you seen Donnie Darko? We were like Sparkle Motion without the organization or motivation to get on Star Search. Anyway, some of the other girls in my class had taken ballet, tap or clogging, so they had some understanding of rhythm. They also had MTV. I had taken gymnastics and no cable. I was put in the back, even though I was the shortest and I remember knowing this meant I was the worst dancer, but I was still happy to be included.

The traumatizing moment came several years later on a Church trip to Universal Studios. I was walking through the theme park with my best friend Noel, when a familiar song came over the speakers. “I really like this song!” I said, and started dancing to it. It’s not that she laughed. I could have handled simple laughter. It was that she clutched her stomach in pain, and then fell onto her hands and knees, tears streaming from her face as she SCREAMED with laughter. For years after, bring it up again: “Remember that time you tried to dance?”  and then she would crack up all over again. I never danced (sober) in public again.

When I moved to England for the first time, I was introduced to clubbing by my housemates. I kept telling them I didn’t know how to dance, but they assured me that if I got pissed (drunk) dancing would be easy. This turned out to be true. Once I stopped being so self-conscious, dancing was fun again. And strobe lights make even the most awkward mover a rhythmic genius. An added benefit to all the dancing was the exercise. Despite a year of complete excess and unhealthy living, I managed to dance off more than 20 pounds.

This fall, nearly 10 years after I last danced in public, I will be taking a Zumba class at the local community college. I have convinced another friend to take it with me. She’s not the same one who laughed at my dancing, but since I regularly send her into paroxysms of laughter, I’m not entirely sure this is a good idea. But, I’m a more confident person now and I bet she can’t dance either.

Happy 4th of July!

We hope you all have a nice holiday weekend!

See you tomorrow.

Topic 183: Diddling

Carol:

Hey, Diddle Diddle

Oh, fiddle faddle. The kitchen sink is stopped up, and  the water is full of tiny, moisture -seeking ants. We have tried the usual non-mechanical “solutions” with no results.   After a phone call to one of the family fix-it types, we are at the stage of (1) taking the pipe apart or (2) calling a plumber. We can’t really diddle around because the same family fix-it types are coming for 4th of July weekend;  we want to de-clog the sink , take control of the pile of dishes, and make the ants disappear before they arrive.
 

Now here’s the real problem. One member of our family considers calling a professional plumber a waste of money, so he has decided to tackle the pipe himself. This man is very bright and creative, the best kind to call in a legal emergency  or personal crisis. But, he is what we call mechanically challenged.  This is the guy who proudly  installed vertical blinds in the dining room—didn’t even need to use the directions—and then held up a “left-over” metal clip.“ What do you suppose this does?”  So, Mr. Not-so-Fixit  is going to disconnect the garbage disposal, pull apart the pipes, and then finish the job hours later when he gets back from taking his mother grocery shopping.
 

The response to that idea was an almost unison cry of protest from his wife and daughter. I’m surprised the dogs didn’t join in with their own howls of protest. After we talked him into waiting, Megan walked him to the door and took control of the situation. “Dad, I’ll fix the pipes. I’ve done it before in England.”  I think I detected a little spring in his step as Mister Mechanically Challenged walked out the door, fully confident that his daughter was not only up to the challenge but wouldn’t diddle around before getting to it (although she does need to finish her daily theme first).
 

You see, we do have a family fix-it type living in this house. She has been honing her mechanical skills  since she was a young girl, usually after her father’s efforts had failed. Like the downstairs toilet. It had a leak that made it run off and on,with a disconcerting sound of water rushing that can be heard all over our house.  Sir Fix-it-Not made several trips to the hardware store, changed out part.  Just when he thought the toilet was working, we would hear it run again.  One day when we arrived from work, 12-year-old Megan greeted us at the door. Grinning, she proudly announced, “I fixed the toilet.” And she had. After the vertical blind incident,  she decided to install the blinds in her bedroom herself. She followed the directions, no extra parts, no swearing (which always accompanies her father’s efforts at home repair). 

I may sound like I’m complaining about my husband. Like I said, he is a talented, creative and resourceful guy, just not with a tool or mechanical device like a TV remote or a DVD player. But, why should he diddle with projects that waste his time and raise his blood pressure when we have  Ms Tool Time living in the house. She’s the real “go-to” person for things mechanical.  I know she’ll be really excited when I show her the little to-do list I’ve been working on. I’ll even let her use my tool box, the one I keep in the downstairs closet for when I tackle home repairs. Heck, now that I’m retired, I may just give her that tool box.

Megan:

Diddling: an illustration

When we drew this topic yesterday, my mother and I looked at each other with exasperated confusion. She recited the nursery rhyme (hey diddle diddle) and I was wondering if I was once again going to have to write an essay about euphemisms. Separately we looked up the word in the dictionary, but when I shared the definitions with her, my mom seemed surprised – as though the definitions she found didn’t line up. Or maybe she was just surprised I was sharing any information with her at all, since I’m usually so concerned about her stealing my ideas.

What I didn’t tell her was that I found a delightful essay by Edgar Allan Poe on this very topic. He starts the same way she did, with the nursery rhyme, and then proceeds to philosophy, and then:  

Diddling; or the abstract idea conveyed by the verb to diddle; is sufficiently well understood. Yet the fact, the deed, the thing diddling, is somewhat difficult to define.

The rest of his essay is then concerned with examples of diddlers – examples of con-men really. I encourage you to read it. And since I have nothing to add to the topic, instead I will simply illustrate the definitions as I found them in Merriam-Webster. 

 1. to move with short, rapid motions

 2. to waste (as time) in trifling

 

3. hoax, swindle

4. often vulgar: to copulate with

Sources:

Defintion of diddling.
Poe, Edgar Allan. "Diddling." (1850).