tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71253389325955792672024-02-19T08:55:58.500-08:00JustWalt's Mental MeanderingsThis is just a place for my many "mental meanderings" that I'd like to share and invite you to read and comment on. We'll talk about Family & Life, Good Tasting Cooking on a Budget, Stuff and Car Talk--Thoughts on Buying and Selling Cars and the Automotive Industry. Join me! There's always going to be just a little bit of love in every post. If you want more of my "Cheap Bastid" food posts, please join me at http://www.cheap-bastid-cooks.com/Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger259125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125338932595579267.post-4102410129640214592012-03-11T16:38:00.005-07:002012-03-11T17:11:35.193-07:00Cheap Bastid's: Who Wants a "Pink Slime" Burger?<div><div><div><br />Doesn’t that sound good? A big old double-stacker of Pink Slime. </div><div><br />Last week, “pink slime” leaped to the top of the standing in Google searches after a series of stories hit the news about 5 million pounds of it being sold to school lunch programs.<br /><br />All of a sudden people were questioning whether or not their kids should be eating such stuff. Well hell, they’ve been eating it for a while in the burgers and tacos they snarf down at fast food joints.<br /><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 260px; height: 274px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5718794789019271794" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguck2IvC-vesvcF8r_hyphenhyphen2PSXP83RjpDLYmfxU0KZTrECG8Cjc-GsWa7aYp5NrKUK_Np_18GiGaFulc5BiRFUVgzebwLufR80pqfC_fEjkAf3Gvf-cUkpAcJgZXROUfP91ttobQC2QB2ok/s320/pink-slime-wimpy.jpg" /><br />Beef Products, Inc. of South Dakota (or BPI) is apparently the main purveyor of this tasty product which they call “finely textured lean beef”. Dr. Gerald Zirnstein of the USDA coined the<br />term “pink slime” in a memo a while back defining it as “boneless beef trimmings”, or such products that have gone through a centrifuge.”<br /><br />“Mary Jane’s Farm”, a blog which was quoted in a post by TLC (The Learning Channel) described “pink slime” like this:<br />“Ten years ago, the rejected fat, sinew, bloody effluvia, and occasional bits of meat cut from carcasses in the slaughterhouse were a low-value waste product called ‘trimmings’ that were sold primarily as pet food. No more. Now, BPI transforms trimmings into something they call boneless lean beef’. In huge factories, the company liquefies the trimmings and uses a spinning centrifuge to separate the sinews and fats from the meat, leaving a mash that has been described as ‘pink slime’, which is then frozen into small squares and sold as a low-cost additive to hamburger”.<br /><br />Oh yeah, and BPI produces more than 7 million pounds of it. Per Week! That’s a million pounds a day. Enough each year for more than a pound of this magical elixir for every person in the U.S.<br /><br />What the blogpost didn’t say was that the “mash” is treated with ammonium hydroxide in order to kill germs like <em>e coli</em>.<br /><br />Supposedly this product now is present in 70% of the ground beef sold in the U.S.</div><div> </div><div><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 454px; height: 266px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5718794785592021426" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5yJNc7lc6tagbC5-xB78Gqy93ceOPHjBgRUWt687cTSaIIM86Rr6Bb9sdbtd9tJrIHdfS813QdbXL7pqMvnbj8flx6L1LpmRK1DcnRQYb1O2ZZCZ9BrHGKVwIcD7HQHFeETtmRcZmsO4/s320/finely+textured+lean+beef+pink+slime.jpg" /><br />OK, if you’re alarmed, worried or a bit scared raise your hand and let’s count. Yep, I see quite a<br />few hands raise out there, including mine. I don’t want to eat that stuff, do you? I wouldn’t want my kid eating that stuff at school either.<br /><br />And, there’s no requirement to label the product or otherwise warn consumers that the amburger they’re buying contains “pink slime”. I’m not too thrilled about that either. Janet Riley, Senior Vice President of the American Meat Institute told ABC News that there’s no need to label this product as anything other than “beef”. “It’s beef,” she said. “and it’s labeled as beef.”<br /><br />Huh? I have a problem defining “connective tissue” and the waste meat that was discarded then treated with chemicals and put into a centrifuge as beef. I have a big problem with it.<br /><br />What’s the motivation behind it? How about profit? I would guess that it’s more profitable to<br />take the stuff that would normally be thrown out because it dropped on the floor or might be contaminated with fecal matter to “process” it and sell it as an “additive” for ground beef than to box it up to be processed into pet food. If it can be peddled to the consuming public it means that they can 1) charge more and 2) not have to raise and slaughter as many cattle.<br /><br />So, WWCBD? (that’s short for “What Would Cheap Bastid Do?”) I rarely buy pre-ground hamburger. For the last several years I have about 90% of the time selected a chuck roast or round roast when it’s on special at my grocery store and asked the meat cutter to grind it for me. My grocery store will grind it for no extra charge. I typically spend less than $3 a pound for ground beef that is $4 or more per pound if it’s already ground up.<br /><br />I know the roast I picked out comes from one cow. It’s clean. I’m confident in its quality—and<br />there is NO “pink slime”.</div></div><div> </div><div><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 369px; height: 233px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5718794783988111362" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5OtYMc-4lIXiUFmlzGRTDKciyAg3iN_JN9828wvg5xJLkjdoOpJNbEz1J4VfORB71F5onUvoDXEbKVBDA0Nvvqoo-CBGe_WpdQbC6r0iV2dZteF0CAlFjAiJTh_v9SrFjJ-RygwdkZM8/s320/London+Broil+ground+beef.jpg" /><br />When I get home, I take my meat package, open it up and divide it into freezer bags. (One other<br />Cheap Bastid secret is that I’m usually planning on cooking for 2 so, to me, a “pound” is 12 ounces—we don’t need more than that for 2 people. If I have “pounds” or about 2 ¼ pounds of<br />actual meat, I’ll put 12 ounces each into bags and then divide the last 12 ounces in half, wrap each 6 ounce lump in plastic wrap and put the 2 of those in a bag—that’s in case we’ve got more than 2 to cook for). It takes about 5 minutes to do when you get home. You’ve got enough time to do it.<br /><br />Check with your grocer’s meat department to find out if they will grind meat for you. And ask the meat department manager if they use “pink slime”. If they do, find out in what products and don’t buy that product anymore if you’re concerned.<br /><br />You know, my father was a food safety inspector in the Air Force for 30 years. After that, he did<br />the same job for the Florida Department of Agriculture for another 20 years. I remember what seemed to be his favorite word when it came to food. That word was “wholesome”. His job was to make sure that the food being processed and provided to people to eat was “wholesome”—that it was safe and fresh and that it met “standards”.<br /><br />That’s what I think this is all about. There are a lot of us who wonder and question whether or not “finely textured lean beef” or “boneless beef trimmings” or “pink slime” is “wholesome”. We’re paying for it at the grocery store and at the restaurant and I think we’ve got a reasonable expectation to know exactly what’s going on and to have any product which contains “pink slime” labeled with big bold letters “contains chemically processed trimmings”.<br /><br /><strong>That's the Cheap Bastid Way: Eat Good. Eat Cheap. Be Grateful!</strong></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125338932595579267.post-5478974341314044332012-03-06T13:14:00.006-08:002012-03-06T13:32:19.205-08:00Apathy Man to the Rescue on Super Tuesday<div><div><div><br />Yesterday’s San Diego Union Tribune (a newspaper which is sliding inexorably downhill at an ever increasing rate) had an editorial cartoon which really got my attention and made me stop and think.<br /><br />It seems as though we have been in the most insane political “season” that I can recall ever since the mid-term election. It’s been non-stop posturing, debating and spending. All of this to the point where so many of us reached our saturation level long ago and wish only for it all to go away.<br /><br />Anyway, before I take off into my rant, I wanted to share the cartoon with you. This is from <strong><em>R.McKee at The Augusta Chronicle</em></strong> on March 2:<br /><br /><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 430px; height: 274px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716898272302937346" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9c59jmHE28I1_614dRWqO9qS1aeeBxT__elp2Al9v0wqtEv7KGWq_hRQlxWs3xBgwRqWe5JIlbiEGOrgQALmSC6KpmgQGP-b7JmWNezFQHptKu12_3s3Vsnmaq7C3rLN45qGghO3OJuw/s320/cartoon+you+fiend.jpg" /><br /><br />Yep, it’s “Super Tuesday”, a supposedly pivotal date in Presidential Primary season. I love this cartoon suggesting that somehow or another we should be paying attention and become actively engaged. But why on God’s green earth would any of us want to participate in this insanity and inanity?<br /><br />Apathy Man. What an apt description. But one has to wonder—what caused it? Is it that we just don’t care? Is it that we’ve been beaten down by the incessant “nattering nabobs of negativism” (remember that fromSpiro Agnew?) who day after day after day come up with some piece of minutiae to waggle in the face of an opponent and the public?<br /><br />We constantly hear about SuperPacs and we cringe and grow numb. We don’t know where the money comes from exactly but we suspect it is from sources that we don’t trust. So why then, are we apathetic?<br /><br />Primaries and caucuses have traditionally been the venue for the “party faithful”. They’re supposed to be an exercise in which the candidate proves his or her credentials and worthiness—and ultimately electability. They used to be occasions for candidates to get out into the “hustings” and communicate directly with small groups of voters in a give and take which crystallized positions and clarified issues. But no more.<br /><br />It’s like the internet where one is inundated with a constant barrage of crap. I went to a job search site the other day and got an e-mail this morning from them bluntly asking why I haven’t paid for their service. Geesh, because it’s a free site, that’s why. And that’s what happens on the political front. I had the temerity to “sign up” at a site promoting Obama and now I get solicitations each day for money.<br /><br />It used to be that we had some sort of sense that our point of view and our vote counted for something. There are those who, like this cartoon, lament the apathy of voters and point to that as a signal that voters are either satisfied or just too ambivalent to do anything other than accept all the garbage that is being pewed forth. And this becomes a justification for all the garbage that’s dumped on us through various media sources.<br /><br /><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px; height: 232px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716898536500074802" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN5-PE-_OkEsipMD8u2GVrnE3TuCvhJoI5b12J5B-X_kmTq5aYfUfICRVHmiapvyrKsds7N3ikhXjpgj0cla7-LLV57oCVyKJnOUOO4W9iZWG_TAYlPlqme36Axona4xodbsCGOdGyxX8/s320/super+tuesday.jpg" /><br /><br />It’s not that at all. We’re numb. We’re beaten down. We’re tired of it already and we’ve got to go until the first Tuesday in November.<br /><br />Sometimes I wonder though, maybe “they” (whoever “they” are) want it this way. If enough of us get sick and damned tired of all the garbage then perhaps “they” (whoever “they” are) win. See, if we become apathetic then those who aren’t apathetic get their voices magnified. That means people like the “teabaggers” get a stronger voice. (By the way I always use the word teabagger—uncapitalized—because I refuse to refer to those folks as a “party” of any sort. Using the word “party” legitimizes them and I won’t do that).<br /><br />It’s a technique that has been used pretty effectively in the past. What we need to do is just to<br />sit back in the weeds. Observe. Think. Talk to each other. And then at election time, kick the bastards to the side of the road. I’m tired of the crap. I’m more disgusted now than ever before in my adult and political life—and that includes Watergate and Bush the Younger.<br /><br />Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem as though anyone gives a fat damn about what people like me think. And between now and November it’s going to get a lot worse before it gets any better.<br /><br />And now, Sen. McCain is advocating that we bomb Syria. President Obama is trying to mollify Israel with veiled promises that if necessary, the U.S. will bomb Iran. Legislatures are trying to force women into invasive procedures to be “eligible” to have an abortion and state and local<br />revenues aren’t covering the costs of services.<br /><br />We’re numb. We’re overwhelmed. And we know that ultimately we’re the ones who will have to pay the price. Not some politician who’s trying to coerce us to vote for him.</div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125338932595579267.post-47193502392534309342012-03-02T08:11:00.005-08:002012-03-02T08:27:19.876-08:00These Guys Take the Damned Cake<div><br />Ann Landers once provided her definition of chutzpah in her column. She wrote that chutzpah is the young man pleading for mercy from the court because he is an orphan—when he was<br />being sentenced for murdering his parents.<br /><br />That’s kind of what’s been going through my head today after reading an article from <strong><em>Bloomberg News</em></strong>. The headline of the article read <strong><em>“Bonus Withdrawal Puts Bankers in </em></strong><strong><em>Malaise”.</em></strong> So while you’re reading the rest of this play this song because it really, really fits these guys.<br /><br /><object style="width: 459px; height: 277px;" width="459" height="277"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/3i6OrOZwtmA?version=3&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed height="315" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="420" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/3i6OrOZwtmA?version=3&hl=en_US" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object><br /><br />Now I don’t know if the headline was suggesting that bonuses<br />have been withdrawn or that bankers were suffering withdrawal like an addict<br />goes through but probably it doesn’t matter.<br /><br />Over the last few years I’ve gotten kind of numb to the machinations of brokers and investment bankers and the harm they have done to both our economy and our nation. And I’ve avoided taken too much umbrage because it just doesn’t do any good.<br /><br />I’ve kind of taken an approach like Mister “T” who has long been know for saying “pity the fool”.<br /><br />But this is just the absolute worst kind of arrogance. Unmitigated gall. Sense of entitlement. Here's a couple of excerpts from the article that really got me spitting and spluttering:<br /><br />"People who don't have money don't understand the stress," said Alan Dlugash, a partner at accounting firm Marks Paneth & Shron LLP in New York who specializes in financial planning for the wealthy. "Could you imagine what it's like to say I got three kids in private school, I have to think about pulling them out? How do you do that?"<br /><br />And:<br /><br />The malaise is shared by Andrew Schiff, the New York-based marketing director for Euro Pacific Capital, where his brother is CEO. His family rents the lower duplex of a brownstone in Cobble Hill, where his two children share a room. His 10-year- old daughter is a student at $32,000-a- ear Poly Prep Country Day School in <a href="http://topics.bloomberg.com/brooklyn/?cmpid=yhoo.hlinks">Brooklyn</a>. His son, 7, will apply in a few years.<br /><br />"I can't imagine what I'm going to do," Schiff said. "I'm crammed into 1,200 square feet. I don't have a dishwasher. We do all our dishes by hand."<br /><br />He wants 1,800 square feet -- "a room for each kid, three bedrooms, maybe four," he said. Imagine four bedrooms. You have the luxury of a guest room, how crazy is that?" The family rents a three-bedroom summer house in Connecticut and will go there again this year for one month instead of four. Schiff said he brings home less than $200,000 after taxes, health-insurance and 401(k) contributions.<br /><br />The closing costs, renovation and down payment on one of the $1.5 million 17-foot-wide row houses nearby, what he called "the low rung on the brownstone ladder," would consume "every dime" of the family's savings, he said.<br /><br />"I wouldn't want to whine," Schiff said. "All I want is the stuff that I always thought, growing up,<br />that successful parents had."<br /><br /></div><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 362px; height: 251px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5715336046044765730" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvh2o7DpowS3C0f4g5bav_nt6cvtxwhy0gFt6HAL0WAe23Xg18i8SfQE_6QSwWCjeeDeW-4svXdztWJnpwu7Srl_Cq_QNm68Pura5mORjPMcIfCV65NzVNPIlkCVs2HOqEckaVi5C2Rho/s320/asshole.jpg" /><br /><br />Awwwwww, too bad for those poor fellows and their underprivileged children. Having to sacrifice by only renting their summer home for 1 month rather than 4. Having to risk the spectre of their children attending public schools with the “unwashed” and “untouchable”.<br /><br />Man I feel bad for these guys. Don’t you? They are so obviously struggling just to make ends meet.<br /><br />And people wonder why there is talk of a risk of class warfare in this nation? And people wonder why so many are angry at the “1%”?<br /><br /><br />I just leads me to shake my head and mutter to myself, “assholes.”Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125338932595579267.post-2266647602962891292012-01-24T09:33:00.000-08:002012-01-24T09:50:47.251-08:00Cheap Bastid Finally Kills Off the Thanksgiving TurkeyIt’s taken me 2 months but that bird is finally gone. Well not completely. We’re having the last of the turkey noodle soup tonight with home made French bread and I’ve got a bunch of turkey stock that will last me several months.
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<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 321px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 212px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5701255426989903826" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1bc5fys2IG78qjT_vY9MvhnDmAQJWL3dbLQb7ghtp7DZhwZJYab82VKXqsjltChpz1MmuRVYyv-zyWeRvFfxRw-krI7P_27E15t7wo9MQCPz2rwdTg1Kp0bBvHfQJRrFQvqhHfDEF3OQ/s320/breast+ready+to+carve.jpg" />
<br />But that damned turkey breast carcass is finally out of the freezer. All that’s left is a small mound of bones which now resides in the garbage.
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<br />The weather forecast for the weekend was for rain and blustery winds—which is the closest thing that the San Diego area will ever get to a blizzard. So I decided it was time to finish off the carcass with stock and soup.
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<br />You can make your own any time you want. All you need is to keep the carcass of a turkey, turkey breast or chicken with shreds of meat still attached. Do what I did, take out your slow cooker or your stock pot and put in about 6-8 cups of water and put it on slow heat. Now toss in your carcass (I mean I just took mine out of the freezer, pulled it out of the freezer bag and dropped it into the slow cooker).
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<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 321px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 230px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5701255420429111330" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJCKSBbS8hjLeTpcGt4Jad6ho2zTk-mgtQsxEnc47D29Gi4QxC_5ApuI8nwsRRZEQLd4LDrBOpyj3li5Lbtf6FKI8dkOoPr_PAIei4AleqCWZ6ChriiEnqszAn98_EGMLeUSnQfCvVfoo/s320/cooking+down2.jpg" />
<br />That’s all you need to do. Except if you’re like me, go check it occasionally, especially after it starts to send off that fantastic aroma. After a couple of hours it’ll start to look like weak broth and a couple hours after that it will look and smell rich and start to taste a bit richer. I’m going for stock here, not broth. Broth is for wusses.
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<br />And after 4 or 5 hours you might want to add another cup or so of water. So after 6 to 8 hours I turn off the heat and slide the cooker pot into the fridge overnight. The next morning what I’m going to do is skim any congealed solids off the top and throw it away.
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<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 321px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 225px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5701255418841150434" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA0tc5zg4tN0p7S22shppbmBPSCSC3Zik-kIMp5fa260Ljo05Vo2upI4-woFyRaOqxQqXXKrVkZh9KNl-AMo7IzuG7AlczhVf3_9miRKXzFWUNRAlF5-AM6XtO69wYoc3My3HMEjO4E4Q/s320/broth+and+meat.jpg" />
<br /><div>Then, strain the liquid getting out all those meat bits and bones which could cause a problem. After you do that, just pour the liquid into ice cube trays and turn it into “stock-cicles”. Let them freeze solid and then put the cubes into freezer bags for use throughout the year.
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<br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 321px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 210px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5701254373331337922" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHudLGu4Rq2wlcVJewdyMYXxU4MovOHpb08tBuX6GtyyqcOJ6nW5bUBAAyAYAIwvyo0Vqk_qsr5dBS89ONMIqUBXgQPWRxxYnlzKpctrPpeEGh58dhNVNb12j_eWDsJQWkeqt690VHH2w/s320/broth+cubes2.jpg" />
<br />But I wasn’t done. I was going to make stock AND soup. I kept about a cup and a half of the stock for “stock-cicles”. And I used the rest—about 2 ½ cups as my soup base. Then I picked through the meat—shredding it and discarding the bones and any remaining skin. What I had left was just about a pound of turkey.
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<br />Sample the broth! Add salt and pepper a little bit at a time. I also add garlic powder and cumin (why do I add cumin? Because we like cumin!). Remember, go easy with the spices—you can always add more, but once it’s in, you can’t take it out.
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<br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 321px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 228px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5701254375280927170" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJlkPWeOZfZehGQIMvxjN2k80WdNvrSBbvxf0o2BTyIIrS2lzRqA9ohIKV0k60Bpc21Eebme3paoG4D7a7pqDmkpsgkvraxXHKc4zQE5Dz8G26Clb28EOSzjwSRZ_Uw-hgqxXhCDJV9RE/s320/pot+of+soup.jpg" />
<br />That went into the pot and I let it simmer for several hours. From there, I added a little over a cup each of diced onion, diced carrot, diced celery and diced jalapeno. I let that cook for a couple more hours and added 2 or 3 handsful of frozen corn.
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<br />Now about an hour before serving, toss in about half a bag of egg noodles. By now this is going to be smelling so fantastic that you’ll be drooling. Sometimes I make drop dumplings for this soup, but not this time. They’re fantastically easy to make. Instead, I sliced some French bread and lightly toasted it in the oven for dipping into the soup.
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<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 321px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 232px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5701254371290241394" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA82QkRIt-XYH1t9mppDp1KJAaVBbWG-o5GPTOZ-nwGBJbTGjaBuqZuXkABLrRjfbeHwT9zVTkswagdLmmOAkz_1it16JpfyGEDp2N_CaTes6jAGk841IE8geA_0t64v4_sZxuazrZCBk/s320/soup+bowl+bread2.jpg" />
<br />Oh man, it was fantastic. Stick to the ribs good. Silky, tasty texture—just enough spices to bring out the full flavor of the soup. And what’s best is that this was really inexpensive.
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<br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">The Cheap Bastid Test:</span></strong> This started out as an 8 pound turkey breast. We got 3 dinners and several sandwiches from it. And we just got 2 more nights of dinner out of the soup plus multiple meals with a flavor boost from the homemade stock. That’s a bargain. And for the soup, I used the left-over carcass and meat and added about $2.50 worth of vegetables and noodles.
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<br />In today’s world, you have to stretch every dollar. It’s even better when the result of the stretching is comfort food this tasty and nourishing.
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<br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">That’s the Cheap Bastid Way: Eat Good. Eat Cheap. Be Grateful!</span></strong></div></div></div></div></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125338932595579267.post-33696856055381677052012-01-23T16:49:00.000-08:002012-01-23T16:58:06.952-08:00Warren Buffett Gets it Right Again--He Blames the Tax Code Not RomneyBloomberg News just reported on an interview today with Warren Buffett. He echoed his earlier sentiments about how the rich should be paying a higher rate of tax.<br /><br />While some may take it as a swipe at Mitt Romney, Buffett put himself in the same category. Buffett said that the tax rate that he pays along with Romney comes reflects “poor laws rather than failings by the candidate…”<br /><br />John Boehner probably classifies Romney and Buffett as “jobs creators” who should pay even less than they are now. But, a guy who can buy and sell Mitt Romney 25 times over says otherwise.<br /><br />Buffett is kind of like the old fashioned ads from E.F. Hutton. When he talks, people listen.<br /><br /><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 289px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 209px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700995338429633698" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHrsm0aPxpVR9xP9MzK5Sucf18859_X8HIv9aKVFIyVAfDyTiaTtIDi3rHI-D6NydzeuwT7ei04dxx1x7vAuKvpEIX2paFZgiOQ77L6ZmLZ-3ihWHy802Km8wKt2osEy1nh0QaxBCcUCQ/s320/warren+buffett.jpg" /><br />Here’s the full article from Yahoo News and Bloomberg:<br /><br /><strong><span style="font-size:180%;">Buffett Blames Congress for Romney's 15% Rate<br /></span></strong><a href="http://us.lrd.yahoo.com/SIG=11vf5sumh/EXP=1328571313/**http%3A/www.bloomberg.com/%3Fcmpid=yhoo.logo"></a>By Andrew Frye and Andrea Ludtke Bloomberg – 5 hours ago<br /><a href="http://us.lrd.yahoo.com/SIG=12jlbnqdo/EXP=1328571313/**http%3A/topics.bloomberg.com/warren-buffett/%3Fcmpid=yhoo.hlinks">Warren Buffett</a>, the billionaire calling for more taxes on the rich, said Mitt Romney's U.S. tax rate of about 15 percent reflects poor laws rather than failings by the candidate for the Republican presidential nomination.<br /><br /><br /><p>"It's the wrong policy to have," Buffett told Bloomberg Television's Betty Liu in an interview today. "He's not going to pay more than the law requires, and I don't fault him for that in the least. But I do fault a law that allows him and me earning enormous sums to pay overall federal taxes at a rate that's about half what the average person in my office pays."<br /><br /><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 269px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700995334909583506" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeUAfFi3sCMbZvfXcxyWdWc1twmTl1DLGKqni-pCoJbzBrUI2Bt5QfmFnQRga6yq10aljSIzceAbvFF0bzVl2JueJ2WYkN5QE42zT7X0QTSa4uABlFELI7_hzhxsgROtpOoqnEoP_msaM/s320/mitt+romney.jpg" /><br />Buffett, chairman and chief executive officer of Berkshire Hathaway Inc. (BRK/A) , supports Democratic President Barack Obama and said Congress needs to raise taxes on the wealthiest Americans to close the budget deficit. Romney has agreed to release his 2010 tax return tomorrow, under pressure from Republican opponents, after saying he pays about 15 percent. Romney co- founded Boston-based private-equity firm Bain Capital LLC. <br /><p>"He makes his money the same way I make my money," Buffett said. "He makes money by moving around big bucks, not by straining his back or going to work and cleaning toilets or whatever it may be. He makes it shoving around money." </p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125338932595579267.post-66824289772603878312012-01-20T13:37:00.000-08:002012-01-20T13:44:05.224-08:00"I'm Building A Ship"Once upon a time, in the later 1980’s, I lived and worked in the small city of Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin. This town of 9,000 was the county seat of Door County which was, and still is, one of the largest destination tourism areas in the Midwest. I ran the County’s Chamber of Commerce.
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<br />There were 3 sizeable shipbuilders in the city—between the 3 employing about 2,000 workers. One, Peterson Builders was the lead contractor for a new series of minesweepers for the U.S. Navy. These are fiberglass sheathed, wooden hulled vessels (you don’t want much steel on a ship which neutralizes mines, many of which have magnetic detonators). Peterson was expert at designing and building these vessels.
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<br />It was quite an event whenever one of these ships were launched or commissioned. There would be dignitaries from Washington and Madison in attendance and I was fortunate to participate in several of them.
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<br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 364px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 217px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5699831980030507698" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMzmHFHHxqOkFN-5S-8R_la4RP2YZvh_FZ8iwfG-EAgZp37GJkNb1DesoZLV7zUdzoA5QXRLA1mZ1xbJal4zKIcQnS2NorOe5jJWIAd4hoT0BB3BA24JYXV-AzAdZZvrCi51Jamb4pSWU/s320/minesweeper+from+Peterson+Builders.jpg" /></div>
<br /><div>One of my all time favorite stories though deals with another organization in our community called the Sunshine House. This was a sheltered workshop for adults with developmental and other disabilities. It was an amazing place full of people engaged in work that was both therapeutic and meaningful.
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<br />The Chamber contracted with Sunshine House to do quite a bit of our “fulfillment”. We would get thousands and thousands of inquiries from tourists for information on lodging and activities in our area heading up to the busy tourism season. We found that we could contract with Sunshine House to put mailing labels on our “vacation planning guide” and mail them quicker and cheaper than we could do it in-house. We’re talking 100,000 or more pieces of mail over a several month period. </div>
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<br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 321px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 212px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5699831973578566098" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGAoVBw1Ehdg_Di4PIERQQTcVwuTSYAo0hFlccmtQ-edaDzSdnqQnsewuKWr4IxZrIs6DMG8ViXboaKERySHwuGmHalgGOfpng0M7fVKJ0n6qXmFs7AMW6P9jZ-X2ETTKfcVY9Lr51i_w/s320/sunshine+house.jpg" />
<br />One day I was touring the Sunshine House. They had just picked up a new contract for Peterson Builders. It seems as though the decks of the ships were made of white oak and needed pegs to hold them together—the pegs were about ½ inch by 6 inches. Another company had been making them but their quality wasn’t very good and their price was quite high. So, Sunshine House bid on the contract and received it and started to make the pegs out of scrap white oak from Peterson.
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<br />OK, to make this long story short, as I was touring the facility I stopped next to a young man who was sanding one of the pegs. I stopped and watched and then asked him, “so, what are you doing?”
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<br />And instantly he answered me, with a light in his eye and a smile, “I’m building a ship.”
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<br />I’ve thought of his answer many times over the years. When I was working in economic development I knew that I was “building a community”. When I was a consultant for Ford Motors I knew that I was “building a car company” or “building a car dealership” even though I was helping a dealer do a better job of selling more vehicles. When I sold cars, I thought of myself a “building a dealership” rather than selling cars or just making commissions.
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<br />Yeah, “I’m building a ship.” That young man was a professional. And he was right. For building that ship is the sum of all the parts that go into it and his part—a humble white oak peg—was a vital part without which the whole ship would not come together.
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<br />Let’s build some ships. Maybe those politicians who constantly bloviate with the new buzz-word “jobs creators” will get the message.</div></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125338932595579267.post-85910552046128000352012-01-18T09:28:00.001-08:002012-01-18T12:28:46.809-08:00Sleeping Through the "Southland" Premier on TNT 1/17/2012My wife and I really enjoy TNT’s “Southland” (formerly on NBC which was stupid enough to cancel this well-written, well-cast, well-directed and well filmed show).<br /><br />So, we we’ve been anticipating it’s “season premiere” which has been promoted on Facebook and other places for the last couple of months (I don’t “like” too many things on my Facebook page but “Southland” is one of them). It premiered last night at 10 p.m., a little late but we’ll stay up occasionally for something worth watching.<br /><br /><div></div><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 521px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 125px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5699025423221141826" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaYkmcpKzGreltm75jUp4HXlCOw1KYHpl1iToYst-52pucPh7cA0FSluCC3mPyys-B73ORBgbJE9Iq9KwOUf6HCZTod41JKR_7ThrB6tw5knLkvxYZkOr7zmSX8dKi1EwdYW0zUb_c8aU/s320/southland+2012.jpg" /><br /><br /><br /><div>So, here’s what the season premiere was like…including the welcoming of Lucy Liu to the cast.<br /><br />9:45: Carolyn announces that she’s going to go into the bedroom and watch it in bed. I’m in the living room reading a book (you know, those things with covers and paper with words printed on them). “OK,” I say, “you know that if I come into the bedroom that I’ll just fall asleep and miss it.”<br /><br />10:05: Carolyn comes out of the bedroom and wakes me up on the couch to tell me that it’s started. Damn. “Why don’t you come in and watch it in bed?” “Naw, I’m fine here,” I respond.<br /><br />10:06: Cops driving down street. See young street thugs chasing one another with guns. They give chase in car. One kid gets shot. Cops chase the other. Thug runs into school yard chased by 4 cops. Kid is shot but keeps going. They follow blood trail through corridors of school and find kid “bleeding out” on floor of restroom.<br /><br />10:15: I wake up again. Michael Cudlitz, Officer John Cooper, is working out, lifting weights shirtless going through full range of motion including lower back. He gets done and walks towards showers showing a scar running up back from surgery. “Hmmmm, he got his back fixed. Wonder if it’s OK.”<br /><br />10:20: I wake up again. They’re in briefing for their “tour”. Michael Cudlitz is assigned to a new partner who wants to drive. New partner is Lucy Liu. Looks a lot different from other roles she’s played like in “Kill Bill” and “Ally McBeal”. Hair’s pulled back, not playing the vixen…<br /><br />11:10: Carolyn comes out to the living room. Wakes me up. Drags me off to bed. “Did you watch it?” I ask. “Oh yes, but you didn’t”. I crawl in bed and go back to sleep.<br /><br />Dammit. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125338932595579267.post-80396795075904338222012-01-09T10:25:00.000-08:002012-01-09T10:38:42.051-08:00How Many Public Works Guys Does It Take to Change a Light?<div>About a month ago I did a post on my recent experience serving—albeit briefly—on a redevelopment committee for the City of Vista, CA where I live. It was, to say the least, an interesting, although brief, experience. If you recall, a month after I was appointed, the City disbanded the Committee.
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<br />Well, since then I have had a wonderful opportunity to get “re-acquainted” with the machinations of the City of Vista. Here’s my sordid, but true tale. It all started on October 25, 2011.
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<br />You see folks, there’s a street light just in front of my apartment building. I mean if the wind is right I can spit on it—that’s how close it is. In mid-0ctober I noticed that it was dark along our street—really dark. Now, the City had been threatening/promising or whatever for months that it would have to turn off most of the residential streetlights as a budget saving measure. But, the light would come on. Then in about 5 minutes it would fizzle out. A few minutes later it would sputter and come back on. It did this all night long—well at least as late as I’ve ever chosen to stay up.
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<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 295px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 312px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695702266287072498" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgv1Qzlvm0VF6wllkaNItbGUcx5k3-9Xp579XVyET_1d1qtZN1hhmSkKQ_Py1iyMdROmHKIV5VAcTuwhjuoz-BYHjTX-1gbN6NLZcwdb7E913TBk9khN_XjaPDnp5dgRz0YXsALsWR-OY/s320/220+light1b.jpg" />
<br />I put up with it for a few nights. When it’s out, it’s dark along our street. Really dark. Dangerous dark—there are always pedestrians going up and down the sidewalks. So I decided to do something about it.
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<br />But what to do? I went into the City’s website which is decidedly not “user-friendly”, almost as if the City acknowledges that it has to have a public website but that it would really prefer if no citizen actually used it to get information or contact their local government. I was looking for the Department of Public Works or some other way to contact someone who could do something about my streetlight. Finally, I stumbled on a “feedback” link which let’s someone send a generic message to the “city”.
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<br />I sent about a 2 sentence message (I was limited to about 300 characters, which for me is not much) and much to my surprise within an hour I had a response. Not just one response but 2! The second one was from a project assistant in public works who actually read what I had sent and who said she would check it out.
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<br />A little while later I got a second e-mail from her telling me that there wasn’t a streetlight out in front of my building but that there was one on the other side of the street about 100 yards away. Hmmmm, no, there’s one in front of the building all right. What to do? I was encountering bureaucracy.
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<br />So I took out my camera and took a few pictures showing the light from my balcony and then went across the street to photograph the light with my building and its address in the background. These I attached to a new e-mail. Oops! The city official sent me back a response saying that she would update the city’s map and put in a “work order” which should be taken care of in 6-7 “business days”. OK, 2 weeks.
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<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 265px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 285px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695702262183619202" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiBS08FZTj37RvTJh5sQq_bAjnykAtq9R9vKvoNIu46oI3Kmc_5QSpxoVcKdC0-RQq6zjqVEQnGkhiGThHhybdlp17u4OPmM49eM8Vff0T71ZRUjkZNMw7VdIOl_PPPmCdGI95VTfgsrA/s320/220+light4b.jpg" />
<br />Two weeks go by. Nothing happens. In fact, on October 30 (the day before Halloween and trick or treating) I sent another e-mail to the person suggesting that it would be nice if the light could be fixed before Halloween and all the extra kids and families who would be walking up and down the street the next night. No response—even though I played the “public safety trump card”.
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<br />So I waited some more. Now don’t get me wrong. I didn’t sit out on my balcony all day, every day waiting for a city crew to come by. I kept on with my life but each night, I would grumble and complain while watching the light “bzzzzzt” off and on, off and on all night long.
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<br />The positive side of it was that at night when the light was on we could get a much better view of the stars in the dark sky. It was in its own way pleasant—but not really safe.
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<br />About the 5th or so of November, I called the Department of Public works and talked to a nice guy who also told me that there was no light in front of my apartment. And then, just as quickly told me that there was (he had just pulled up my original e-mail proving it’s existence). He also pledged that he was updating the map and would schedule the work—apparently it hadn’t happened the first time. And so I waited. And waited. Still nothing.
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<br />So, along about mid-November I dug out the big guns. I prepared another e-mail. This one (after doing some more online research) was addressed to the Mayor, City Manager and Director of Public Works. Wow! Even though City Hall is a whopping 3 blocks away, one could almost hear the gears of the system screech and grind as these officials seemed to drop what they were doing and take action.
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<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 292px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695702260785797426" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjArLZ1qa3CFLPy2cVpuuKnVTF2IlRs6KTvZYt1Wdt8kIyhu-x6M3sGAqBw8RTXkATc_ZkUogaQ0ogRUkwUxW7UN1ISs4XDiy3mDG7GWxTRmmP18fldh-k3z5S5f6f8QfCVkLnlMKTiRHk/s320/burned+out+light.jpg" />
<br />In less than an hour I had an e-mail from the City Manager AND the Public Works director pledging action the following day. I don’t think I was very snotty to them in my e-mail—OK maybe a bit sarcastic. And maybe it helped that I sent the pictures of the light, along with a new photo of the light at night, burned out.
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<br />Anyway, there were e-mails and promises. “Yeah, yeah,” I thought.
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<br />Let’s fast forward to the very next morning. It’s 8:10 a.m. I don’t work until 2 p.m. So I’m checking out e-mail and the blogs and the news and drinking coffee—still in my pajamas.
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<br />My phone rings. “Walter, this is Jim Howell, the Director of Public Works here in Vista,” a voice tells me.
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<br />Now, my first thought is that it’s pretty early for a city employee to be on the phone. The guy’s voice is a bit hard to hear because there’s a diesel truck out in front of the building idling.
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<br />“I’m standing out in front of your building and we’re fixing your light now,” he proceeded to tell me. “Do you have a minute so I can explain the situation to you.”
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<br />“Hold on just a minute, Jim,” I replied. “Yep, I see you. Tell you what, I’ll come down and we can talk rather than on the phone.”
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<br />There’s this tall, professional guy in a shirt and tie and leather jacket standing across the street talking into a cell phone. I went out the door and down the stairs—still in my pajamas.
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<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 394px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 264px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695700806895700114" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLK67AMhbrsPvDyxVscbaecW8IKKf2pbWUKOxFNxg_hBFLBcfNgd_LfKxDLQGCdjOYMm0-mDD1BsEtw8kjWqFoDPReo16SNSa-i9JaDPaez-iE5sj30Cyort8OxWK56pyXqaJcZpiq1rI/s320/streetlight+repair1b.jpg" />
<br />There’s a boom-truck with several guys right by the streetlight and they’re actually working. OK, so how many city workers does it take to change a light bulb? A total this day of 5—one in the bucket, one to run the controls on the truck, 2 to keep an eye on traffic and the Director of Public Works. Damn! This has got to be a fairly pricey light bulb change!
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<br />So I went down and talked to the guy while my wife took my picture in my jammies. He explained to me that they had actually done some work on the light (and showed me a work order) on October 10 but apparently didn’t realize that the ballast was bad.
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<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 339px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 234px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695700802211012738" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhoJEmF6yk8oHU_FdTFJb6y0ZIM0ye8ybNFRylg-ZQPqUvd5vDEHfBCgKH141-TOf8fNJYYZ_mruP0WbWf7ix_5qTWHzYhQmU-eEjOiNSph2-ak-HmUqNfb87E-fhN51TQxB9qlZoKH1k/s320/Director+of+Public+Works+b.jpg" />
<br />OK, that’s fine with me. I’m just glad that they’re getting to it. Now, I know that Vista, California is a bigger city than I’ve lived in most of my life and that by California standards at 100,000 it’s not that big but…
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<br />Yeah, “but”…I still didn’t think that it should take the better part of a month to fix this and to have to convince people that there is, indeed, a streetlight in front of my address. I can’t help but wonder whether it would have been accomplished any quicker if I lived in a more “upscale” neighborhood—but that’s not fair to the folks at City Hall.
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<br />But these guys showed up and didn’t laugh at me out talking to the Director of Public Works in my pajamas. And, start to finish, it only took a month.
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<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 255px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 311px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695700800131112258" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3UDdWojVnWCSxorIsIysM8-C6YLlcdc2kbalkCizEzfDTM4XyEsSaa8K1WsyYxQ9lgk11FS_dhrXkBlq39lOESjeicbErUXDW-CgWlvR9mnV0WKm601QJHa6GoVWj6vG_hj-3h_a5EUc/s320/streetlight+repair3b.jpg" />I guess I’m just getting too old and grumpy but it was kind of cool seeing that big old truck hoist a guy up in the air to change a light bulb and then hang around watching it for a half hour to make sure that it worked. </div></div></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125338932595579267.post-8818793710279926632012-01-03T09:30:00.000-08:002012-01-03T09:36:48.216-08:00Iowa Caucuses--Gotta Know the Territory, Territory, TerritoryHere we are, January 3, 2012. It’s Iowa Caucus night. It’s the night Republican contenders/wannabes/candidates have been anticipating for months now. Regrettably the preening and posturing is just getting into high gear.<br /><br />Most Americans, I think, wonder why the process of nominating a candidate starts in such an unassuming state like Iowa or New Hampshire. After all, these places really “don’t count”. Or do they? <br /><br />And, Iowa’s not even a primary. It’s a damned caucus for crying out loud. What’s a caucus anyway? I did the Iowa caucuses 3 times over a 12 year period of living in Iowa. They were a fascinating experience. All 3 of them were as a Republican even though I was almost invariably the most liberal person in the room. (In Iowa a pro-choice Republican is like being a fiscally conservative Democrat). <br /><br />But wouldn’t it be nice to have some sort of rule that says the candidates can’t even begin to posture and preen and sling manure until after Halloween the year before primary season? If that were the case, the only “losers” would be the media—both “news” and advertising.<br /><br />Here’s the thing as far as I’m concerned: Meredith Wilson wrote a wonderful musical set in Iowa (he was from Mason City, after-all) called “The Music Man”. Professor Harold Hill gave all traveling salesmen a bad name. Why? Because as the opening number in the musical said, “he doesn’t know the territory, territory, territory.”<br /><br /><object width="560" height="315"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/-kSukkRjV-A?version=3&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/-kSukkRjV-A?version=3&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="560" height="315" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object><br /><br />But I digress. Yes, indeed Iowa’s caucuses count. I remember the caucus season in 1983 (damn, I’m old, aren’t I?) when I was living and running the local Chamber of Commerce and Economic Development Corporation in Algona, Iowa—population 6,000. This was the year that Democrats were trying to wrest the White House from Ronald Reagan who had defeated incumbent Jimmy Carter in 1980. Walter Mondale, Carter’s VP, secured the nomination.<br /><br />One of the things I remember best was John Glenn coming into town to a gathering at the Chrome Country Café—a truck stop at the junction of Highways 169 and 18. There were about 20 people who showed up—mostly older farmers and their families along with a smattering of business types from town. Glenn showed up in a van, with a retinue of maybe 3 people accompanying him. And no media—other than the local reporters from newspaper and radio station. <br /><br />It was a conversation over coffee. What were people actually thinking? What did they want? How was Glenn going to help provide that? It was a time for a very short “stump speech” and lots of feedback. And that’s what the caucuses are all about—putting a human face on the candidate; expecting the candidate to do this thing called listening.<br /><br />Now, the expectation is for the candidate to strut their stuff and address their “core” or their “base”. Hell if they want to do something with their core, they should do crunches and planks.<br /><br />Yeah, Iowa is a largely rural state (unless you live in Des Moines or Waterloo or Cedar Rapids and think the world revolves around your city). And indeed, many in the larger cities started out in small towns. But the caucuses are about interaction. They’ve been bastardized by the changes in the process over the years. <br /><br />My last caucus was in the late 90’s when “W” was going after the nomination. By then the process had become totally centered on the media and mean-spirited. And it has only gotten worse.<br /><br />Here’s the thing—Iowans tend to be “what you see is what you get”. They have a fairly low bullshit tolerance. This is a state which has consistently re-elected arguably one of the U.S. Senate’s most liberal members, Tom Harkin and one of it’s most conservative members, Chuck Grassley to term after term. <br /><br />Why? Because each, in his own way, speaks to the people of this state. Each is passionate about his beliefs and yet shares the root values of the state. The cross-over vote each time one is up for re-election is phenomenal. Republicans routinely vote for Harkin and Democrats for Grassley. <br /><br />Yeah, Iowa counts. But I don’t think the current crop of contenders really understand the how or why of it. Wouldn’t it be nice if they made an effort to know the “territory, territory, territory.” Maybe then they’d be able to muster the ability to actually do something productive and positive.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125338932595579267.post-86418084108823710232011-12-06T07:33:00.000-08:002011-12-09T11:11:08.678-08:00Christmas Music--"Ugly Christmas Sweater" It's a Hoot!Just for fun today and to nudge you a little further into the spirit of Christmas. If you don’t get a laugh out of this then there’s no hope.<br /><br /><br /><br /><object width="560" height="315"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/hAyjTKjBYV8?version=3&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><br /><br /><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/hAyjTKjBYV8?version=3&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="560" height="315" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125338932595579267.post-41251038279825484142011-11-11T08:04:00.000-08:002011-11-11T08:12:09.624-08:00A Tale of Two VeteransMany is the time when my wife and I have gotten to talking about our fathers and how interesting it would have been for the two of them to have met. One was Hispanic from Kansas and the other was a farm boy from the hills of Kentucky. Both of them were veterans. More importantly, each of them spent more than 30 years in a military career.<br /><br />Carolyn’s father, Onofre “Hank” Hernandez, retired as a Master Gunny in the Marine Corps. My father, John R. Blevins, Sr., retired as a Senior Master Sergeant in the Air Force. Both of them started their service in World War II. Carolyn’s father enlisted in the Marines shortly after Pearl Harbor. My father was drafted when he turned 18 in 1943. Carolyn’s dad saw multiple campaigns in the Pacific theater while my father hit the beaches at Normandy on D-Day and spent the next year and a half on the ground in Europe.<br /><br />Carolyn’s father was about 12 years older than my father. He was a dirt poor underground coal miner in Kansas. In many ways his patriotic act of enlistment was his ticket out of the poverty and prejudice a Mexican man lived with in the 1930s and 40s. My father was self-described “white trash” whose family cash-rented cropland in Kentucky to raise tobacco. He was the second oldest of 11 children. <br /><div></div><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 403px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 283px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673770081528215698" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEins55kHn53FiBNvPPPGyLOeSwBIOBnt7tptv-5YCE-Pb3DbPrc4d1E0iQ0SDOI-Kh9e3yybJ3dgZIyJkrjhwgq0WnIsI6ZWhqBYniAiW52qr6leFkjVzw9yNK2Il00LDPdHfug9eSWgOM/s320/Master+Gunny+Hernandez+2.jpg" /><br />There wasn’t going to be much of a life for either of them in the environments in which they grew up. The military changed all that. It was a profession of honor and service and, yes, of risk. Carolyn’s father served in combat in WWII, Korea and Viet Nam. My father was only in combat in the Army in WWII. He served throughout the Korean War and Viet Nam. My father earned a Purple Heart in WWII while Carolyn’s father was fortunate to have been in combat far more often but went unscathed.<br /><br />So, this is Veteran’s Day a day when we remember and honor veterans. The military has long been a profession where men, and increasingly women, from very humble backgrounds can thrive in service to their country.<br /><br />Here’s what Carolyn had to say about her father: “My dad loved this country. Maybe he didn't agree with the way it was going or its politics, but I have literally never met more of an 'American' than my dad. He believed in this country and the concepts and idelas upon which it was founded, even though - being a poor Mexican and all - they were definitely not written nor intended for the likes of him. Or maybe, in their noblest form, they actually were.”<br /><br />My Dad never talked of his experiences of combat in World War II other than to say that he had never been so cold or hungry or scared in his life. That was it. It was personal and private, locked in the recesses of memory. Like many veterans he knew that combat was nothing to be bragged about like a fourth grader during “show and tell”. That’s probably something else that he and Gunny Hernandez would have understood about one another. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 311px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 390px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673770078432170962" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilJe573HPa_kivlw6gF9UIm9ZMw0TgJ8zL7vab7zSv8vsi7YzH96b3q0h-U7BZBGFBBCVSU9N8qhxrmupww43Bu9n1QOfOan1i13eD7FQ6dCCUBCplP1fOcpF5PmCG4xnjlxf3dwLBAEg/s320/PFC+Blevins+2.jpg" /><br />Carolyn and I joke from time to time about the “military-isms” we grew up with. Lessons like “clean up after yourself—leave the latrine clean for the next guy” were mantras we both heard from the time we were youngsters. In my household, shoeshines were obligatory. But, Sunday mornings sitting in the old high chair while my Dad shined my shoes for church were also times for the old man to have some one-on-one time with his son. Just like when we were throwing the baseball or fishing, they were times when the remoteness of a military father softened to just a couple of guys.<br /><br />By the time I was a bit older, I was spit shining my own shoes. I remember high school classmates who thought the wing-tips I wore with my choir blazer and slacks were patent leather. Nope, they were just spit-shined in a “thoroughly military manner”.<br /><br />And in a lot of ways, our respective fathers could be unreasonable hardasses. But that was just the way they were hardwired from their background and by the military.<br /><br />We always talk about how they would have found that they had far more in common with one another than one would ever assume and we think their conversation would have been fascinating. Both had a background of poverty. Neither was well educated (until later in their careers) but both were articulate. And both grasped the opportunity of service and honor and discipline as a path to a career.<br /><br />These men took pride in their military professionalism. They had risen much further than they ever imagined from their humble backgrounds. Both of our fathers took pride in the fact that they were in “the service”. That term has stuck with us our entire lives. They served. There is no more noble calling. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125338932595579267.post-51412556444310373022011-11-09T10:50:00.000-08:002011-11-09T10:56:08.370-08:00Cheap Bastid Chewing on "The Chew" and Blasting YahooCheap Bastid has done enough Cheap Bastidly cooking and writing by now to be entitled to express an opinion or two. So that’s what I’m going to do today.<br /><br />I’m going to take a swipe at ABC’s new food show “The Chew”, a cutsey play on “The View”, and take a swipe at an insipid piece that showed up yesterday on Yahoo finance.<br /><br />First, “The Chew”. This new show features Karla Hall who was a contestant on Top Chef along with Food Network Iron Chefs Mario Batalli and Michael Symon. It’s been on for a little over a month now. And it’s all right although a bit vapid. They’ve even made some efforts at showing how to cook good food fast and on a budget.<br /><br /><div><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 379px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 215px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673070781582442018" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgii7_VWKdlEeTiR3T80jzjImSigA3-_nbysEpZ21EwEtNTTAshO8SKCVtIGZ6EU_YSJvxn5akkPv-SfyNvRNochDmpZ7hW6jI1j_zhO5mW78BOWVxdctxv6-lFGhm7FhrBU49oqLdceT8/s320/the+Chew.jpg" /><br />But yesterday they managed to pretty much alienate me with their snarky, almost condescending, take on “Southern Cooking”. Sure, they paid some lip service to the traditions of Southern or country cooking but they also managed to insert a recorded “Yeehaw” everytime they mentioned the theme or took a commercial break.<br /><br />Hey jackasses, southern or country cooking is the epitome of making food dollars stretch. It’s not fancy but its inexpensive and filling and good and, most importantly, is usually made with more pinches of love than the paid shills manage to add.<br /><br />To stand up in front of America spewing fake southern/country/Texas accents in the cause of entertainment demeans what they do and disrespects the food that they’re supposed to be extolling.<br /><br />Certainly it’s entertainment but there are people from all over watching—not just foodies from the East coast. I thought it was offensive. Oh, and remember when earlier I said the show was all right? Too bad, because their audience (including me, at least for now) deserves something better than “all right”.<br /><br />Now on to Yahoo. There was an article yesterday in Yahoo Finance—Financially Fit titled “How to Feed a Family on $15 a Day”. OK, not bad. It got my attention—I’m the Cheap Bastid. Fifteen bucks seems a bit generous, but it’s for a family of 4.<br /><br />The article rubbed me the wrong way with its lead which said that the “average family of four” spends upwards of $1200 a month on groceries. Say what? The author was citing data from the USDA on monthly food costs—the $1200 a month comes from the column titled “Liberal Plan”. Even the “Thrifty Plan” at $615 per month struck me as high.<br /><br />More particularly, the author was interviewing some expert who had “stopped by her kitchen” to share some advice. This expert, Allison Fishman, contributing editor to “Cooking Light”. Fishman was right when she said the important thing is to plan menus and plan shopping. I started doing that when my kids were little. Planning a menu prior to shopping was the key to making sure that ingredients were on hand and, even better, it had the result of significantly reducing the total grocery bill. </div><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 389px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 261px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673070779094856050" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCq7vMQVPK6X7nxzTHHv1Q8CzcnYfx4vbVhhzYriUo4egJGTCLffO4RTGpFpA9y5Pl6WPpDWkQ_xP1PoLDX5X6wzpEgGCjZ4dhjJ1R60Qui2Cs-84ABnnByh-imSdqJuO8kbGiHet9FGQ/s320/family-dinner.jpg" /> <br /><div>But Fishman was also suggesting that meat be used “almost like a condiment” rather than as the main feature of a meal. Huh? Meat, a condiment? She suggested that beef at $5.99 a pound and chicken breast at $5 per pound was out of reach for many to be able to provide other than a sampling of it in a meal.<br /><br />That’s all well and good. But where the hell is she buying her boneless, skinless chicken breast? I pay $1.97 a pound for it. The same with beef. I now buy “lesser” cuts such as bottom round (London Broil). I can get ground beef for about $2.50 a pound by having my grocer’s meat department grind it for me when chuck or round is on special. And maybe Southern California (or at least my neighborhood) isn’t as expensive as someplace like New York City but it’s still plenty expensive.<br /><br />The way this expert was presenting herself, I kind of got the impression that she was trying to educate the ignorant masses to eat a diet based on beans and squash and legumes along with using the same chicken bone for a couple of weeks to flavor the meager soups.<br /><br />The “average family” spends far less than $1200 a month on food. The average family spends less than $600 a month on food. Who are they kidding. And this kind of advice does little, if anything, to enlighten or encourage or educate. What it does instead is frustrate and infuriate.<br /><br />And Cheap Bastid sees that as a disservice not as being helpful. </div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125338932595579267.post-72482575701918753752011-11-01T16:59:00.000-07:002011-11-01T17:14:07.689-07:00SOAPA while back I wrote about one of my “big scores” at Costco—a year’s supply of Irish Spring. Now, I was going to say “dirt cheap” but that’s just too cheesy a pun to put into the context of shower soap, so I won’t say it.<br /><br />Anyway, it’s been great not having to remember to put this nectar of the shower on the shopping list for months at a time knowing that I’m always going to have a goodly supply of the fresh smelling, clean feeling soap that used to be advertised as “Manly yes, but I like it too,” by a winsome young Irish lass with light red hair and freckles inhaling the aroma next to a stream on the Emerald Isle.<br /><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 321px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 241px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670181973813105218" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyvhj9ZnxTqRGSzF5GwRKhjRTJDBY6yLNTqwk6Gbi7t3RBBnvQbOXjV-63JFWp0RHqfX6BFLCJHn-c3CF9x-RJX26xrVUio7JHacMnxmX43GVMrLM8Tj5TJ65FZ84aT2iwh4danK94WXc/s320/IrishSpringGirl.jpg" />But I digress.<br /><br />As I’ve mentioned previously, I have a bar of Irish Spring in the soap dish on the bathtub. If I count all the bottles, tubes, brushes and razors belonging to my wife and step-daughter in and around the edges of the tub, it numbers somewhere north of 20. It’s tough to pull back the shower curtain and step over the lip of the tub without knocking something on the floor or into the tub and have to precariously bend over, pick it up and put it somewhere where it can be found and where it no longer presents a hazard.<br /><br />But I digress again.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 321px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 227px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670181956185730626" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhut1vPiU67klCTuZ3kTdn3a-DvKLEDjBVf_OblCEqhE1fsXlF3ximvc6T3AhUrkWNf2vo0owgqrWDptxr4FbVqkqkan8h7xiWK-YODBhqoLszf_9B4MJPc6z9nIEMo34kGfTeQ2DThrpg/s320/cluttered+bathtub.jpg" /> <strong><em>(Note: Under of threat of punishment from my wife, I am compelled to notify the reader that this is NOT our bathtub but is one that I found on Google).</em></strong><br /><strong><em(note--under></strong></p><br />So for the last few mornings I’ve noticed that my green bar of soap is rapidly shrinking to sliver status. I’ve been telling myself for the last few days, “Self, you need to replace it.” I’ve even gone so far as to confirm that there isn’t another bar handy in the bathroom. But, by the time I think about it each morning I’m already wet in the shower and I’m not going to climb back out and open the bathroom door to go to the linen closet to retrieve a couple of bars to last me a while. So I’ve been making do with a sliver.<br /><br />Besides, I keep having this mental image of me, stepping out of the shower in my birthday suit and bending over the shelf in the linen closet where we keep extra soap, room freshener, toothbrushes, etc. and have my step-daughter come out of her bedroom three feet behind me and being introduced to my “full moon”. Noooooooooo way. Carolyn would kill me.<br /><br />Well, this morning the sliver disappeared in my hands. It’s no fun showering when you know you’ve got just a tiny bit of soap to wash your face and pits and between each of your toes, not to mention your rungi-schmelli and “nether regions” (that’s probably TMI but I’m sure most know the drill in the shower at least as well as I do). So, which parts do I skip? Hmmmm, well, I’m going to use deodorant so pits you just get a water scrub. And I’m going to put on clean socks, so toes I’m just going to rub you good and you’re going to be on your own.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 321px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 206px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670181943545737426" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji1bkxfkYqEIhyphenhyphenTbHFSPnfZgNNeG7QCtIePtvUOgZfxalY7FXRL8FNhdzY7BkhoNPleLsS0tk6MNC5wPMwQ_T0rhrKXDRuMfIPJMsd2hED3GVOjX0Fyfd0xfBPCd04C1XjSCXYOgMMMww/s320/irish+spring+soap.jpg" /></p><br />Crap, this is just way too much decision making for early in the morning. Now, I wouldn’t have this problem is I left a bit more time each day. But, I usually head for the bathroom about 20 minutes before I have to leave for work—after 3 cups of coffee (one to function, one to wake up and one to soften things up--if you know what I mean). And after sitting and “reading” for a bit, I’m ready to hit the shower, then shave (yes, I have a beard but I still shave every morning) then clean my glasses, brush my teeth and head into the bedroom to get dressed for work.<br /><br />With a “schedule” like that, there’s just no time left for Irish Spring inventory control unless I’m forced into it. So like a good boy I got done in the bathroom, went to the linen closet and took 3 fresh bars out, opened one and put it in the soap dish and put the other 2 in the drawer next to the tub. Now I’m good to go. Until the next time I run out. Damn.<br /><br />There will be those who say to me “why don’t you just leave more time in the morning?” And to those I say, “Yes dear, you’re right”. But for me showering and then dressing and then heading out the door is like a matador or a knight getting ready for the bull-ring or the jousting arena. I’m transitioning from home to work and getting my “game face” on.<br /><br /><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 321px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 216px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670181933705971986" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMU87_QcRi8h3REf8P4YXT6HIowzjzNrFAdT_bzSk2sxvyZ7husmSSEQ0jgQd4TkRb30ywtpWa9DclWyaM85YZTgo-CAs_MSevSodXL34MScX6y9fJKfJ1syalv_dsBrMEPyVP6RC-kFs/s320/irish+spring+on+the+throne.jpg" /> </p><br />What ever happened to “soap on a rope” anyway? Tomorrow morning…the glory of a virgin bar of Irish Spring. I can’t wait. </p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125338932595579267.post-67830963522116906452011-10-14T13:30:00.000-07:002011-10-14T13:38:24.545-07:00I Just Made Up a New Term: Assholitics<div>
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<br />“So why,” you might ask, “have you come up with such a derogatory term?”
<br />“It’s simple”, would be my response. “I just came across the most assholey piece of political crap that I’ve ever seen and I’m sick and tired of it.”
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<br />Or, the articulate political scientist in me would say, “I take extreme umbrage to the tone and tenor of the survey recently sent to my wife by the Republican National Committee.”
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<br />Yes, indeed folks, my wife is a registered Republican—but I love her anyway. I’m not sure if I forgive her for being a Republican but I love her. She puts up with my uber-liberal rants and even agrees with me some of the time.
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<br />Yep, my wife received a survey in the mail recently. On the outside of the envelope it says “2011 Obama Agenda Survey” and Republican National Committee. The 4 page letter inside “explaining” the survey and asking for donations is signed by Republican National Committee Chair Reince Priebus.
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<br /></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 321px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 126px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5663448325907564434" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgNX5kyIcFM_GPxsH8WW1GgzWZ42kIB0MaKyGIkhl-kxQkoDs41biJ87-UF3KazuTn9s8CLA7dLXRcQaUnFzQ4R80wryc5awFC8NgCmlJmIARMSXx6iW0kuk2FBqjUwr0RYSE7guxfcz8/s320/reince+priebus.bmp" /></div>
<br /><div>This diatribe is an absolute classic of every devious propaganda technique we learned in Dr. Tomasek’s “Political Propaganda” class way back in 1972. Hyberbole, reversal, half-truths run rampant both in terms of the description of Obama and Democrats and in reverence to the Holy Grail that is all things Republican. Good Lord, how can anyone with a measurable IQ buy into this crap?
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<br />And the “survey” itself. This is a classic of a “push poll” taken to the “nth degree”. It’s laughable. Here are some examples of questions in this “survey”:
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<br />Do you believe that Barack Obama deserves a second term as President?
<br />(OK, not bad. A fair question although it smacks in the face for those who don’t believe he should have had a first term or for those for whom the word ‘deserve’ is a red flag).
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<br />Do you believe that Barack Obama’s nominees for federal courts should be immediately and unquestionably approved for their lifetime appointments by the U.S. Senate?
<br />(OK, this is just wrong on so many levels. For some people if it were George Bush’s nominees then they would be fine with it. For others it’s the idea of a Democrat making nominations to the Federal bench. For still others the words “immediately and unquestionably” is a huge red flag. I’ve even got problems with that! And still others have issues with “lifetime” but that’s what the Constitution of the U.S. allows.)
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<br />Are you confident that new medicines and medical treatments will continue to be developed if the federal government controls prescription drug prices and sets profit margins for research and pharmaceutical companies?
<br />(Huh? Confident? The evil federal government controlling drug prices and telling private companies how much money they can make? This is asking whether you think the “boogie man” will finally stay hidden under your bed and not jump out and scare you.)
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<br />There are a total of 16 questions in this “survey”. Yeah, I know that it’s only a pretense of a survey and really a pitch for donations especially since the bottom is a half page that is a “Contribution Reply”. Maybe this was written by someone who got their start doing mailers for a televangelist.
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<br />And I would imagine that it will appeal to only about 5% of those who receive it. Once upon a time I identified myself as a liberal to moderate Republican (socially liberal, fiscally moderate). But the organization turned mean-spirited in the mid-90’s. I can only hope that those who consider themselves “moderate Republicans” will read this and be appalled and turn away from those who would try to position their party in this way.
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<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 355px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 235px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5663448323080698674" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiVjbyrbVrgk0PLJ_msTZPrDebnfGFyG_LNylR2zxBQfp0B3q4e9qUisyoYtPO_Qjd0E7mpuC72oy7pt8u6IuBFjVnmM25lYHP0F5mftB0YbhCueYPWYiTMIJxEbKrcqWKrxm_pH8oi9c/s320/asshole+statue.jpg" /></div>
<br />That’s why as soon I read through this I thought to myself, “Self, this is asshole politics”. And thusly a new term was coined “Assholitics”. We’re in for another 13 months of this and it’s only going to get worse.
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<br />I’ve always been naïve about politics—despite having both a Bachelor’s and Master’s degree in Political Science. I believe it should be about issues and fairness (sheesh, how naïve is that!). I believe candidates should run “for” something rather than “against” someone. When I have been actively involved in campaigns I always strived to have the campaign focused in this way and was even successful in doing that several times.
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<br />But apparently Assholitics is now the way of American politics. I reject it and reject those who practice it. You know, if we all did that maybe we could get things to start changing just a bit.</div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125338932595579267.post-21333362071040700472011-10-11T12:33:00.000-07:002011-10-11T12:39:39.531-07:00You Just Gotta Love Those Folks in GubmintRemember the old saying “Think global; act local”. I’ve always been a believer in that. Take a look at what the world needs and then do something in your little corner of the world to make it happen. Touch the lives of people who are your neighbors. If we could, or would, do that, we could change this big old world in no time flat.<br /><br />So, when an opportunity presented itself here in Vista, California, I volunteered. Here’s my tale of adventure and woe.<br /><br />I live in an apartment with my wife on the edge of an area known as the Townsite Neighborhood. Whenever the local newspaper prints a story about something happening in our neighborhood, it invariably uses the description “hardscrabble Townsite Neighborhood”.<br /><br />Redevelopment in an area like this is a good thing. When the City extended its redevelopment district boundaries 3 years ago, it had to form a “Project Area Committee” to provide advice and feedback to the City Council about the area and improvement projects—known as Redevelopment Community Improvement Projects.<br /><br />In late June I was looking for the dates of a particular community celebration and happened into the City’s website. While there I came across a listing for a vacancy on the Project Area Committee (PAC). It was a seat specified for a “residential tenant”. In other words, a renter. Hey that’s me! I’d love to do that.<br /><br />You see, I spent over 15 years doing this type of work—community and economic development. I’ve done redevelopment planning. I’ve set up TIF districts—especially in industrial parks to create new manufacturing jobs. I have huge empathy for the people who live in my neighborhood and would like to see our local government do a better job of serving their interests. I was a natural.<br /><br />So I filled out the application. And I was accepted (actually I think I was the only person who volunteered—let’s be honest here). I was invited to the committee’s July meeting (They meet every other month for an hour and a half. That should have been a red flag).<br /><br /><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 381px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 245px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662320431136001378" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYyEhkYuk6jo5S99cBZwAFmnF2iQBjzuvaTsCAB3JRIzuvWGMDT1Pj9khgY61_zNE97BpDxNuFZjNzzPqiqiUF3VXJCWjPoxR1z8-i_ZG4MEXo2iXSk-xdi33gqj3Z50I9kN3HAt_jUgI/s320/city-of-vista-civic-center-building.jpg" /><br />The committee meets in a meeting room in the City's 1-year old $55 million City Hall right on the edge of our "hardscrabble" neighborhood. We call it the Taj Mahal. It was financed by a local sales tax imposed by the City.<br /><br />I sat through the entire meeting, listening (not my greatest skill) to the discussion and keeping my mouth shut (again not one of my greatest skills). I sat next to a man who had taken to time to go out into our neighborhood and photograph areas that have no sidewalks and streets that have crumbling asphalt. Yeah, there’s a chunk of this area that’s run-down and neglected.<br /><br />And I’m thinking to myself, “Self, this could be interesting”. Then it came time to introduce me (the very last item on the agenda) and tell a little bit about myself. I told the members of the committee—property owners, renters, Chamber of Commerce members all from this neighborhood—a bit about myself and a tongue in cheek summary of some of the things I had done in the City in the 6+ years I’ve lived here.<br /><br />I managed to get a stripe painted on a street (what I asked for was a street light at a dangerously dark corner). I managed to get the fences fixed at the nearby athletic fields of a junior high school so people couldn’t trespass (what I asked for was for the gates to be left open so people could continue to use the football field for pick-up soccer games). And I’ve managed to get a half dozen higher end cars towed from our street at a community festival earlier this summer and then a “no parking anytime” sign posted. When all I wanted was to get the cars ticketed for hindering traffic. Heads bobbed up and down—hmmm they’ve heard of me. In fact, one of the committee members commented, “oh, so you’re the guy…” Yep, that’s me.<br /><br />They vote me onto the committee and I have to stand up and take an oath of office pledging to uphold and defend the Constitution of the United States. OK fine, it’s a bit odd but I’ll do it—yep I just renewed my social contract, this time officially.<br /><br />So, I’m waiting for the next meeting. Hmmmm, there’s no follow-up generated from the previous meeting. There’s no communication from city staff. What kind of committee is this? Well, it’s a city committee. It fulfills a legal requirement. Does the City really want it to actually DO something? The notion that it meets for an hour and a half every two months should have been a hint.<br /><br />Well, about a week before the next meeting—I still haven’t received minutes of the previous meeting or an agenda for the coming meeting—I got a call from the Redevelopment and Housing Director of the City. He’s calling to inform me that the required 3 year term of this committee expires at the end of the month and that the coming meeting would likely be the final meeting of the committee. What?!? I just got on the damn committee. I’m just getting going.<br /><br />He told me that the City Council could, at its discretion, extend the PAC for an additional year. “OK,” I thought, “we can just get the council to do that.” But, the Director told me, staff is recommending that it not be extended in order to save money.<br /><br />“And why not,” I asked.<br />“Cost saving in the budget,” I am told.<br /></p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 340px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 230px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662320428324730178" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibemzZPUqnuKfHJBQeKGQFDegnqNcOG2bOlklTX7TyC9kc5nsmrQnFjqq3EAOYlt90-NrDz0Oj1YouOe15fC3kFJWgPRJvnMKSOOcC6OLPNJAajYbKbwJwqEBGXPtsmLqglOAQLq6Wu2s/s320/vista+city+hall.jpg" /><br />Rather than belaboring this further, let’s advance to the next, and final, meeting of the PAC. As they say in government, “discussion ensued”. The 2 staff members from the City re-iterated their recommendation that the PAC be allowed to “just fade away”. And they renewed their reasoning that the statutory requirement had been met and that it was a cost saving measure.<br /><br />Ever the skeptic, I asked these 2 gentlemen just how much would be saved from the budget by the demise of this group. They didn’t know.<br /><br />“Wait a minute,” I started up—starting to head toward righteous indignation. “You’re both professional staff members of this department (actually the top 2 guys) and you’re saying that the reason for eliminating this group is for budget savings but you don’t know how much you’ll save? It would seem to me that if you’re making this argument that you would have run at least a rudimentary time and motion analysis to be able to estimate how much it’s costing.”<br /><br />The 2 guys looked at each other. Their lips got tight. They had no response. I managed to keep my mouth shut as other discussion ensued.<br /><br />The long and short of it was that eventually I made a motion to recommend that the City Council extend the committee for a year. The committee delegated to me the task of communicating the committee’s position to the Council. I wrote a short, impassioned letter about volunteers volunteering for additional service.<br /><br />The Council vote was unanimous. The Project Area Committee was allowed to sink into the oblivion of its 3 year term. Of course, the City’s motion thanked us for our service.<br /><br />Service? What service? I was only on it for one entire meeting and the last 5 minutes of another. Crap.<br /><br />Just as I was getting over it, a large flat envelope arrived in the mail from the City. The cynic in me said, “looks like a certificate”. This morning I opened it. It was a form. The form was accompanied by a letter. The letter said that the form was a Statement of Economic Interests Form 700 from the California Fair Political Practices Commission. I have to fill it out. And supposedly list all financial interests I have including stocks and 401k, etc. It is a required form when someone “leaves office”.<br /><br />Office? I didn’t have an office. I was on a committee. And I served for 2 months.<br /><br />Here I was, expecting a certificate of appreciation and service. What I got was a state form to make sure that I didn’t profit from my long service on the committee. Remember the scene from “A Christmas Story” when Ralphie gets his secret decoder ring along with a certificate conferring “honors and benefits”. When he discovers that the “secret message” is really a commercial for Ovaltine he says “son of a bitch”!<br /><br />I had hopeful expectations about being able to, in some small way, do some good for my neighborhood and community. “Son of a bitch.”Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125338932595579267.post-8224049709783841262011-10-03T09:45:00.000-07:002011-10-03T10:06:45.927-07:00Cheap Bastid Does Sonoran Hot DogsI love Coney Dogs—a hot dog swimming in an ooze of chili. And I love Chicago Dogs—a concoction that’s a salad on a dog complete with iridescent green relish. But now, I lust after Sonoran Dogs.
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<br />What makes them so different from other “Dogs”? One word: bacon. Yes, bacon. Visualize a hot dog wrapped in crispy bacon, just waiting to be slathered with a host of toppings that will create a fiesta in your tastebuds. Wow! You’re going to like these.
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<br />The Tucson Citizen described Sonoran Hot Dogs as being “like a chili dog on steroids”. I disagree. I think they’re more like a Chicago Dog in afterburner.
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<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 321px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 230px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659311132137493570" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTVK_1fAdKqvqx-IbQkDz3k6rNklZe5YiumULiESsu54r0O6vej-rURwboFpfZaytTzkLcWnMtZS85ywC098wlCRqKUheUCcZ8N5towSoeH2cMwyO5gNYBz0qoh4TwkAQmE3sr7LkJsGU/s320/sonoran+hot+dog+stand2.jpg" />
<br />Now, I don’t know where I came across these, but Sonoran Hot Dogs rule in Tucson and Phoenix and they’re making inroads here in San Diego and in L.A. They first appeared in the Sonoran capital of Hermosillo in the 60’s and erupted across the border in the 80’s. Now, they’re a staple of lunch-time and bar-closing time in the Southwest.
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<br />I’m doing the Cheap Bastid version of this recipe and find that I can get 90% of the taste for 60% of the cost. I’ll throw in the elements that make it pricier and more “up-scale” later.
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<br />So on Saturday Mrs. CB got a text from Miss Meggie that she wouldn’t be having dinner with us so we figured we were on our own with my newest concoction until she pulled up in the driveway and into the apartment at 6.
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<br />“So are you home for dinner?” Mrs. CB asked.
<br />“What are you fixing?” Miss Meggie asked me (she knows who the cook is).
<br />“Well, I doing Sonoran Hot Dogs. They’ve got salsa and beans and…” but she had quit listening, like 22 year olds do to old folks. “…and they’re hot dogs wrapped in bacon…”
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<br />Her eyes lit up at those 3 key words—hot dogs bacon. That was enough for her to become a willing participant in Cheap Bastid’s latest experiment. How about you? Here it is:
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<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 341px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 228px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659311127247815122" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAOanWvDx65QOZT3M2c1drxNFw-n8KjRls4fCVfXtKQ2vgPr56OddZmd8VKUQQoYP2vlmwfCRJD0b6H_1HuiQuh9A-YuNJyKOZ7lE28Cewmq63eYb3WNzrR1nWamqACB8mpxz0-3YQiKg/s320/sonoran+hot+dog.jpg" />
<br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Cheap Bastid’s Sonoran Hot Dogs</span>
<br />Ingredients
<br /></strong><em>• 1 package hot dogs
<br />• 8 slices thin cut bacon
<br />• 1 package hot dog buns
<br />• 1 can refried beans
<br />• 1 recipe Cheap Bastid’s Pico de Gallo
<br />• ½ cup Mayonnaise or “salad dressing”
<br />• Chipotle or cayenne
<br />• Mustard
<br />• Shredded cheese (your choice—jack, cheddar, mozzarella, blend, etc.)</em>
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<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 335px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 225px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659311127795371314" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmBnBeMrCUfR5Qfc4BI4aYEFL9RYcvFnnfZtKsHqhyphenhyphenlTYIBwi4gjJuYG2kobsz9fEVkuZo0qf1LkEJAV0Na5CrSs81I6ogdBdP0PDwvW70S26qs3SpcWZNSlpUcoKSSY-heR24n1q4Us0/s320/cooking+dogs.jpg" /><strong>Directions</strong>
<br /><em>Take out a skillet and put on the stove. Wrap the bacon around each hot dog (use shorter dogs so the slice of bacon thoroughly wraps around it). Take the mayo and add the chipotle/cayenne to it and mix thoroughly. How much chipotle or cayenne? Enough! To taste! Bear in mind, that as it sits, it’ll get hotter so start with a little, sample, add more, stir again, sample, etc. until it’s the way you want it.
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<br />Open the can of refried beans, put into a microwave dish and zap on high for 2- 2 ½ minutes until it’s hot—or put it in a sauce pan on the stove.
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<br /></em><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 321px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 205px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659309526290775810" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8kWwuk36FliOZ6nn04pkGTwbNhuJf41SAqfsCKIsCiJCwML_bWy-QyWwrJ3qAgfSeJoitEdRpD4LTk7784mKLHPp-FNzhhtxmpZW4Yup2WXlYwlzQbDydGZibCjlJbBlvHWxgWniprdA/s320/pico+de+gallo.jpg" />
<br /><em>Get everything arranged for fixing the dogs—plates, bowls of pico de gallo, cheese, etc. so people can fix their own. Now turn the stove on to medium and put the dogs in the pan (see, do all this other stuff first because you’re going to want to pay attention to the bacon wrapped dogs as it cooks and keep giving them quarter turns so they brown and cook evenly.
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<br />When done, remove the dogs from the pan and put on a platter with a doubled over paper towel on it to absorb the bacon fat. </em>
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<br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 341px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 227px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659309522649638994" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6ezzjyaOpOgS9WCz3dE-28xkVJoulQiLkcqm0O7hfZ24NbuK5Ppd5x3MeRqvg4Dbs07CQ3Wg-sJD5gvLi0xMCnK-x-WQUiarbvaSBaHWykf1A12OkhcdtIVmbRC0ZIRo1wg7we4ri6jg/s320/cooking+dogs+and+bacon.jpg" />
<br /><div><strong>Assemble:</strong> <em>Take bun and slather some beans on the bottom. Then drop the dog in. Put a line of mustard on the side and then top with the mayo mix, pico de gallo and cheese. Now you’re ready to really enjoy a taste treat.
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<br />Imagine, biting through this concoction! The flavors and textures explode in your mouth! There’s crunch from the fresh pico de gallo, there’s softness from the cheese, there’s tang from the mayo and heat from the spices. Then there’s more crunch of bacon followed by the meat of the dog with the taste and texture of the refried beans putting the finishing touches on the bite you just took. Oh man! This is good!
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<br /></em>Now, you’ve just had the Cheap Bastid version. There’s other versions of this as well. Some call for freshly cooked pinto beans, others for a can of rinsed pinto beans. I used my Cheap Bastid “ends and pieces” bacon—which didn’t work as well because it’s thick cut. You might want to go with thin sliced bacon. And, most recipes called for “all beef” hot dogs. My problem with that is if I’m going to spend $4-$5 a pound on beef, it’s not going to be a hot dog! That’s how much all-beef dogs cost now.
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<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 321px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 217px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659309516677106018" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir1i_GV-kPyOaq1-AnwgAtIJv3DnRts58Hfn1AxEnswx06buQ1ilMxAE1C2GcUviz3QNks3v9UX4OnHeSitn9XIaNbiyPrJO_Bg1Z_je77-MNv81lPWlCtlrYFLYYPTMY1OzhPeqWEWOc/s320/sonoran+hot+dog+close+up.jpg" />
<br />Some people add guacamole which is fine but CB just isn’t a guacamole lover. And I left out the mustard the other night and a hint of mustard on these would make a big difference—with that hint of vinegary tang to add to the dog and re-frieds. Plus you can also add a fresh-roasted or even jarred pepper to the side (just like on a Chicago dog) for extra taste and texture.
<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 279px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 154px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659309515228878434" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBXUOciS7NIX-sg5UNHEKht8wQ1pAG3jkaquvHcuYF5drTh-7xthRflJlBMhaVuzWP9PR0J2EUgS3HfzMOZXlT1iKUs1cau6skD6AxtlYubyMyW8HyxJwg7umivL5-1FsCCsLY2S71YKA/s320/bolillo.jpg" />Bolillo rolls are often used for these, adding authenticity and a more upscale taste and texture. If you want to do that, slice a “pocket” in them—don’t cut end to end like a hot dog bun. This will take the Sonoran Dog up a notch. And last but not least—next time I’ll use toothpicks at each end of the dog to hold the bacon in place while it cooks and then pull them out when I finish the dogs.
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<br /><strong>The Cheap Bastid Test:</strong> So how’d I do? Let’s see, the dogs were bought on sale at $.75 a package. The Pico de Gallo cost me about $1.50 and I used half a recipe so it was $.75. The re-fried beans were on special for $.89 a can. The buns were $1 at the dollar store. And I spent $2 on a pound of bacon and used, let’s say ¾ lb so the cost was $1.50. What’s the total for 6 Sonoran Dogs that provide dinner for 3? <strong><em>If my arithmetic is right: $4.89 or $.81 per dog</em></strong>. That’s pretty cheap!
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<br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">That’s the Cheap Bastid Way: Eat Good. Eat Cheap. Be Grateful! </span></strong></div></div></div></div></div></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125338932595579267.post-21095781630602725962011-09-28T11:32:00.001-07:002011-09-28T11:50:35.242-07:00It's Repelling that the Media Can't Spell Rappelling<div>OK, so maybe this isn’t the most grave and compelling thing happening in the world right now. But it gripes my butt.<br /><br />What the hell has happened with our ability to spell? Have we gotten that lazy that we 1) don’t KNOW how to spell or 2) don’t bother to run spell check—even though spell check doesn’t correct every error?<br /><br />It’s bad enough when you or I do it. It’s even worse when the media does it so conspicuously as was seen yesterday all over the internet, TV and print media. And when it comes to the media, whatever became of editors or even interns who double check this stuff?<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 303px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 209px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657480671466176546" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM4uiJPX005sCpGUQHFU-DW-WlrJLCciH_-BWA2lcB8FKYz35Ga1udrz5Y32Nedm2BEmQvOqYLNDR0lSkPGTLv4BqJUfddsgWyZb6CemcPgndiEsn9Yu91iOETKVV845fz4ajcUHHKFKQ/s320/rappelling+washington+monument.jpg" />So just what the hell am I ranting about? Yesterday, inspectors crawled out of a tiny “hatch” at the top of the Washington Monument in order to begin inspecting the entire structure. They are going to work their way down the monument by rappelling.<br /><br />NOT REPELLING!!<br /><br />They’re two entirely different things. TV stations got it wrong. Newspapers got it wrong. Bloggers got it wrong. And, in all likelihood, the poor schmuck who wrote the press-release got it wrong and everybody else just copied him or her in their collective ignorance.<br /><br />Apparently it takes an anal retentive like me to spot it and take umbrage.<br /><br />Here’s what they’re doing—<strong>rappelling</strong><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 305px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 238px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657480669658418466" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhNfT6xiNKO-LmO4VoIkzD2q2ra3dQj6uP7ntfj27NEyjP750_tm_kHlXwDWOPsT7bdOsv4DRbBi5O60E5ZfcN9TLMLLeDxu4GknM934lcAWBW7cjqF0igI6Qst3Eh0krLsbgdPcIj-uQ/s320/rappelling2.jpg" /><br />Here’s what they’re not doing—<strong>repelling </strong>(as in “repel all boarders”)<br /><br /><div><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 367px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 265px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657480668080207378" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSIJy1Srf5qy9vzJqUWXRECX33fFv-gzhlGTLw4lYXJeSke1kGcKtCAYydylWlUvD_mxr9O9xD2wwVOm7NNWcpkDYVW45L1xAJWyrquI4rmSdhu6TXc49yq3F6p1et8ItQL1It0LfFUT0/s320/bonhommerichard.jpg" /> And it's certainly not this kind of<strong> repel</strong>:</div></div><br /><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 225px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 203px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657484012685667906" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimt9vTNNE9Scsg061QwEotiZXnO1EvHYUxiqCj4cgpCcN09rz0ZgubyE6yOrs1HvzkTGA65HWcDqYpWIEtc2nV5qMG25o3uT88jbzBa0197p1vM4n7YAVrGUIopron8Zo_IlSnUr1Aaww/s320/repel_lotion.jpg" /><br />No wonder most of the adults look so dufus on “Are You Smarter than a Fifth Grader?” </div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125338932595579267.post-56745732435387300582011-09-19T12:52:00.000-07:002011-09-19T13:04:23.132-07:00Cheap Bastid Brings Home the BaconToday, let’s talk a bit about bacon.<br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 379px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 326px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654161635978676914" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsR1pZ0VOwoLPkEN-IHrpQQjQFPy1v0ixFN37VfbsazBPBIbFT9P6hxuZKrClSLQ5HQgyUJnxPfm2w8O1ByjkCpUQQDxJeSVMnBugUBEdAHjFhyphenhyphennA8srai4D6Ol_es7Sd2HALsP1C65Bs/s320/back-to-the-future-bacon-demotivational-posters-1316092579.jpg" /></div><br /><br /><div>Let’s talk about how damned expensive it’s gotten. In the last year or so, it’s doubled. Now I find this kind of interesting because other pork prices haven’t doubled. Is that because there’s just a lot more demand for bacon and the producers charge anywhere from $4 to $6 a pound now because they can?<br /><br />But geez, I’ve been thinking not just twice but three times before buying bacon. We’ve gone from cooking up a pound for BLTs or breakfast to a half pound (Wow! Talk about sacrifice!) We’ve gone from having 2 or 3 pounds in the freezer to a pound.<br /><br />Crap, I don’t like that. There’s got to be a better way. Well, thanks to the meat manager at my local Stater Brothers grocery store, I came up with a solution. I was chatting with him one day and mentioned how bacon had taken a big jump. He agreed and told me what he buys—“ends and pieces”.<br /><br />And I thought to myself, “Self, those are going to be little bitty 2 or 3 inch pieces of bacon and they’re just not going to be the same.” I was wrong.<br /><br />Usually, the ends and pieces are mostly slices that weren’t as uniform as the other slices that went into the meat display case or they’re half slices with just a few “pieces”. Take a look:<br /><br />Here’s the package:<br /><br /></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 355px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 224px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654161636069067314" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgbiljftvWeQ3ng7CWnqck6ai7rU-8TpuAULuI42ZvW09cIaUWE76BNRaA-4mvURe6h581Ae2dWgaH4e2UDO0TgKbG41jrhfjYtIp8ErL_ES1lUh2iD8mX1Fo-mCXx7XLoTGFSXgbhW-o/s320/Bacon+label.jpg" /><br /><br /><div><br />Here’s what was in it:<br /></div><br /><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 351px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 232px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654161632468576338" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHDZzYkUzb4SQWlJRkfj8wDrkdAn9aGwFFJErm_PUcvI51JnfbOAiQE1dITGdj32CEGZj5ROPxpUlg9gA8GD8bJRGczYXwSDpn-PQqEQnjcEseC6fMFz6QsGSCPFosLViBjBgCuQNH34U/s320/bacon+ends+and+pieces2.jpg" /></div><br />And here’s the best part. This bacon is $4 a pound in the display case. The “ends and pieces” are $1.99 a pound. I can do that math. And all I have to do when I get it home is take it out of the package, separate the full slices from the half slices from the pieces and repackage it for the freezer. That takes about 5 minutes. And I’ve got 5 minutes to save half the price of the bacon.<br /><br />The slices and half slices get fried up just like any other bacon and the pieces end up in something like Spaghetti Carbonara.<br /><br />If your grocer has “ends and pieces” for cheap, then check it out and see if you can save some money. Give it a try.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 321px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 221px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654161634496245666" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirXuU3eFwM1SE392uNGtU1WqQ3z8U6p5434c1rM7gFM1K1ds-397SjTPMhY7btVoionFRPJukDOeJdkFoBIRU2H97-Jp37UOpRiWVOuRwCapz5DUpVOaV48jCUSuydkm8ypx741csJzFc/s320/cooking+bacon.jpg" /><br /><br /><br />And here’s a couple of Cheap Bastid bacon recipes you might want to check out:<br /><br />http://just-walt.blogspot.com/2010/03/cheap-bastids-classic-spaghetti.html<br /><br />http://just-walt.blogspot.com/2009/06/cheap-bastids-foodie-tuesday-chocolate.html<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>That’s the Cheap Bastid Way: Eat Good. Eat Cheap. Be Grateful! </strong></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125338932595579267.post-15339811803211930352011-09-13T08:02:00.000-07:002011-09-13T08:34:56.719-07:00Cheap Bastids Lights Out Pico de GalloWell, it’s been a while since Cheap Bastid came up with a recipe to share. I’ve been too busy trying to eke out a living selling cars to affluent people who are cheaper bastids than Cheap Bastid. Plus there’s been a lot of stuff going on with our family that’s finally starting to wind down. And, I just haven’t felt like coming up with new recipes and writing about them.<br /><br />But I’ve got something simple and cheap today. And it all started last Thursday. It was my day off and we hit our grocery store, Stater Brothers. While there we had the bright idea of making some homemade salsa which I haven’t done in a while. It’s actually “pico de gallo” which translates from Spanish as “rooster’s beak”. So we picked up some extra tomatoes and a bunch of fresh cilantro along with a bag of chips that was discounted.<br /><br />We got home and put the groceries away and I set about chopping the ingredients and letting them macerate.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 321px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 212px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651862833632831602" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Ff970soUMN3UiZcZeZDS7YcFkFC_A6bQZE42sPluMKam1QLtB8yQoN4dzOaPoPDLauFFRbaVChFf6JvHOnvbfDLHcYeVaxe2NowEtzpEOuUyIaSqxYLE6eW7hkdNGLUeHvnUVoRNwws/s320/eating+salsa3.jpg" /><br />Now up until now it wasn’t any big deal. It was a hot day and that was the reason for the salsa. It’s something that has some zing and zip from the tomatoes and acid and spiciness. So, along about 3:40 in the afternoon I’m sitting in the living room with some mind numbing drivel on the tube, reading a book—just kicking back on my day off. And zap! The power went off.<br /><br />Now apparently not too many folks elsewhere in the country really knew that a major power outage occurred that effected the extreme southwest corner of the country for more than 12 hours last Thursday. The power blackout stretched from Tijuana through San Diego and into Orange County and from the Pacific Ocean all the way across California and into Arizona. Several million people all at one time without power. Thank goodness I was at home. I live 15 minutes from work and one guy I work with lives near me. It took him 2 ½ hours to get home.<br /><br />Oh well. Like I said, it was hot and our apartment isn’t air conditioned. But in a blackout, it wouldn’t work anyway. Our cell phones weren’t working. And obviously we had had no internet because our modem wireless network are powered by electricity. There wasn’t any cable TV. We managed to find some batteries for a small radio and there was one station that was on because it has an emergency generator and does 24/7 news. At least we were able to keep track of what was or wasn’t going on.<br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 321px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 215px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651862829181096498" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyGLWnL8aEY5ZyFpTQjr-6dM-4eCjmmzrcVAZcxLxy8vfltDT9sMRNCKkO4P_C_oAMWomWdJrvcxZP0y6JBrvXMRdBUWaQ6BmYVBallr32xLGIrbwExlkbQavKhQEvMbfMz1jZYj9CnT8/s320/onions+tomatoes+orange.jpg" /><br /><br />I had planned on cooking chops on the grill anyway so dinner was grilled pork chops, grilled summer squash planks and fresh salsa and chips. Think about it…pico de gallo is made from fresh tomatoes, onion and jalapeno. That’s both tasty and actually pretty healthy. So we ate pretty good, by candlelight on a powerless Thursday night. And that’s why I call it “Lights Out” Pico de Gallo.<br /><br />So, before this gets too long, here’s the simple recipe. Try making it yourself. It’s tasty and a whole lot cheaper than buying something in a jar or in the deli section of your grocery store.<br /><br /><strong><em>Cheap Bastid’s Lights Out Pico de Gallo<br /></em></strong><br /><em>Ingredients:</em><br /><em>• 4 Roma tomatoes<br />• 1 baseball size white onion (about 2/3 or so cup worth)<br />• 1 jalapeno<br />• 1 orange—navel or Valencia<br />• ½ cup chopped fresh cilantro<br />• Salt, garlic powder, chipotle or cayenne</em><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 321px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 207px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651862831352428466" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE5VBZdYgKbqUniDs5UQoGilZ2HFlNiOH3BYUnylj3F0udzVn8owHobYA3k3gQKWiDwrWOnEL4wmrYb9gsLDAaQ2fc5ii58oDPCsa78gnd0DyAEp1HyGRwxVHSMzLyMJxC4c-sY68UeAU/s320/tomatoes.jpg" /><br /><strong><em>Directions</em></strong>:<br /><em>This is really simple. Most of what you’re going to be doing is chopping and cutting so get out your cutting board and good knife along with the bowl for your salsa.<br /><br />First though, take your jalapeno and roast it. You can use your grill, you can use a burner on your stove or you can put it in the oven at 450. It’s going to take 5 to 10 minutes. If you haven’t done this before, what you’re doing is putting a char on the outside of the pepper and you’re literally steaming it from the inside. When it’s done put it on a plate on top of a paper towel or napkin to cool.<br /><br />Start dicing your ingredients and putting them in the bowl. You’re going to chop and juice the orange too. I love the flavor that the orange puts into the salsa along with the extra juice that’s both sweet and acidy. When you get all this into the bowl, add a healthy dose of salt—but don’t overdo it. One of the reasons for the salt is to pull the juices from the tomatoes and get the liquid mixed into your salsa.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 321px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 220px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651862823743100466" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiievBp66dIoBOM_XweLICXLNHMNtD8D998CSOHGlIRIFe1ODOJ8uFxEZlQ5dKr_B4c7W5uHImSpXM55mXusAPeDCO30MXVSXGKGY5vnjagw2hAbI38TgzE__kp18-wIBNlgdTFGnIauHE/s320/cilantro.jpg" /><br />Now, back to the jalapeno. When cooled, use the paper towel to rub the skin off the surface of the jalapeno. When it’s all peeled off, cut off the top and the cut the jalapeno lengthwise in half. Remove the membrane and seeds and toss them out (this is where the heat is, so quite frankly, you can leave them in if you want your pico de gallo hotter). Chop the jalapeno into about ¼ inch pieces and add to the bowl.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 238px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 140px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651860949525420274" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj45YlbKnleWQlFsKmFzta1J33I2SR9KWvXdHaa52oTPxjvMErgVT3EIWkyAOUzOOoxPCxOCqNec2AaIJkFmKMlru-rk4XPeNyAwnld-rMncG9rQveWOLoCNAfapdWFUn1_KUbQQrKNL8c/s320/jalapeno.jpg" /><br />Now, taste your salsa! Add some garlic powder to taste and then add some chipotle or cayenne a little bit at a time until you get the right amount of heat. Then put it in the fridge. Serve it later with tortilla chips or do what we did—we used it as a topping for tostadas tonight.</em><br /><br />So, what to do when you’ve got “Lights Out”, you’re hungry and you’re hot. Pull some freshly made Pico de Gallo out of the fridge (be quick going in and out of the fridge if the power’s out!), dig out some tortilla chips, scoop up the salsa and enjoy! That’s what we did. And we like it spicy!<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 299px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 194px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651860948985106738" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqonGX_2-q-kWwGYyj_JltI-vUukwPIsr_Ns4tpz1VGite7_HAMIiuZ4kTg1KFGzrnmPuZWBl9sFFrP7B2XmX5HwDhFs0Jey0gkTdnk5zR42-afIFatH19ohvszj3l698AAds04VuZvSs/s320/tostada.jpg" /><br /><strong><em>Cheap Bastid Test:</em></strong> This is really inexpensive, especially this time of year. The tomatoes cost about a dollar, the onion was about a quarter, the jalapeno was about a quarter and the orange about 35 cents. Less than 2 bucks! This made the equivalent of 2 jars of salsa. Those 2 jars would cost $6-$7 at the grocery store. And this is a lot fresher and a lot tastier!<br /><br />The lights were back on the next morning and it all ended up as one of those little adventures that really aren’t all that bad. Except that it really does let you know just how addicted we are to technology.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 321px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 210px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651860944884001938" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG_-qPc-5DIXyrS7AKDEw1cMuu2KmBDO01KaraJsNrFeezehvUhRljULrA4mIwQX65GPJx8RwdZe9eNdzAt3MbVcJmZR7yIql-PQlS9IIPMjbssavfZUSHgCiB-aAnc5AKjkmtuljti84/s320/eating+salsa2.jpg" /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>That’s the Cheap Bastid Way: Eat Good. Eat Cheap. Be Grateful!</strong></span><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 301px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 205px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651860939824156626" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLGkXGr6oLVzspoYCUr5s_hy8dgNhZ0ILUCEvYGMa7m0p7e3tLh7Bh4XTIf4Pdj1OgmiBQqu-v0VLd9rBr5d3pBiwRGgsLehs83KP1ofCPNucyfowxbvn1umrJwi8KfiXUoSV606pRZ_g/s320/CB+eating+salsa.jpg" />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125338932595579267.post-54796236227998848542011-08-25T12:12:00.001-07:002011-08-25T12:14:30.873-07:00Fifty-Five and Five
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<br /><div>Well Monday was my 60th birthday--6 decades, 3-score years. Dayem.
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<br />When I got home from work Monday night, my wife had a "special" cake waiting.
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<br />See, we have this thing which has now taken on a life of its own. We don't like to go out and buy those big number candles that a lot of people put on their cakes. We like to "make do"--one time we even cut the top off a "7" to make an extra "1". Now, Carolyn wasn't about to load up a cake with 60 candles. But she didn't have any big "6's". So, she got creative. Here's what she came up with:
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<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 347px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 263px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644873785382713906" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTFpNPuvJX4R1L18RBW5_LqxZtIHSnSlPyXMJuzD9_IuZxSUMq283HC8z3wlWgQNwCr_FznXqyMrHVgC7yXpZFDVikrTybdlIujXVKMRMwg2tw75a2tzj9zbg7X8mRRADs3i3Ap_idOGU/s320/60th+birthday+cake.jpg" />
<br />(By the way, the chunk of flame between the 2nd and 3rd "5" was a "plus" sign made out of 2 regular birthday candles).
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<br />And now, back to doing research on all those places where I can get a "Senior"discount. We already know that you have to be 62 to get a Senior Discount at Kohl's. Carolyn has promised to take extra good care of me at least for the next 2 years. </div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125338932595579267.post-73571957770328926712011-08-22T11:46:00.000-07:002011-08-22T12:02:21.354-07:00Cheap Bastid's Mac & CheeseIt seems like every time there’s some cooking show on or one of the chef’s competitions like Top Chef or Next Food Network Star, someone always does Macaroni and Cheese.
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<br />If you check out recipes like I do, you’ll find a whole bunch of different recipes for Mac & Cheese. And there’s a lot of “foo-fooing” going on. Exotic cheeses, different ingredients—even truffles!
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<br /><div></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 272px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 177px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643756476683710562" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGc2ksCSZAjTL8CTxThmDegJVwR2YNnRHq2QHz68PqNYN-nxb37OkmqKG0zIUWU3KNihbQ79gyXqA38qc2xTYORfsy7rtTV6mY5jIVbkn46M1eiJYIelikWKM8ccZJeZ4U9_W6yKADU1U/s320/mac+n+cheese+plated.jpg" />
<br />It’s always seemed to me that Mac & Cheese is a family dish. It’s supposed to be a simple dish—and it’s evolved to one which is most usually prepared out of a box. (I’ve had it many times out of a box and never thought twice about it). And, it’s associated with “soul food” which is usually home cooked, inexpensive cooking that has 2 main elements—it tastes great and it’s inexpensive.
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<br />So, Cheap Bastid set out to make Mac & Cheese that will fulfill these 2 critical “soul food” criteria. To make it taste great and to make it as inexpensively as possible. (Notice I didn’t say cheap. I quickly discovered that this isn’t necessarily a cheap dish at all). And, if I were going to do it, I vowed to use that most American of cheeses—Velveeta.
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<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 287px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 171px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643756478383282370" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ1qPsSYHCot_TUT_1eCGgGrVVqmGRFrftWIDAtcddIawELHgZTJzHTHc-deXoGCLFyX_ROkPr5ITDmyzxRc_7v5-krhznBUhsjIXa62lMwnknwgT1ZrZhGvwQvcxvZEWR4Q-08QE8_uk/s320/mac+n+cheese+casserole.jpg" />
<br />So here’s what I came up with. It’s simple, but it takes a bit of time to prep and make. It’s reasonable, but by no means “cheap”. And it’s thoroughly customizable.
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<br /><em><strong>Cheap Bastid’s Mac & Cheese
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<br /></strong>• 1 lb elbow macaroni
<br />• 1 lb Velveeta Cheese
<br />• 1 8 oz. bag shredded cheddar (or whatever shredded is on hand or that you like)
<br />• ½ lb bacon cooked
<br />• 2 tbsp chopped jarred jalapeno peppers
<br />• 1/3-1/2 cup milk (skim, 1%, 2%, whole—it doesn’t matter)
<br />• 4 slices bread (white, wheat—whatever)
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<br />First of all, notice that some of these ingredients are based on what you have on hand or what you prefer. That’s the way cooking is. Cook what you like. Substitute for what’s in the pantry—for example if you don’t have any bread, use saltines or Ritz or even hamburger or hot dog buns. This ain’t rocket science.
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<br />If you don’t want to use bacon, leave it out. If you don’t have any but want a bit of meat use spam or ham or bologna or hot dogs. Like the homegirls say: “Whatevah”.
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<br />So, let’s cook. Prep first! Get out your pasta pot, a small skillet, a casserole dish, cheese grater (don’t have a cheese grater? Just cut the cheese into small cubes), 1 gallon freezer bag, rolling pin (or meat tenderizing mallet or the bottom of a sauce pan), a big mixing bowl, a medium bowl, cutting board and a small baking sheet.
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<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 295px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 187px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643756476121541826" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXSk5VgG_UZynmbe7AdYjdjTVb6ZhEIU73gZHXAanxLKbAaa2ZAT_UgSbhBHeBulxfh6Wa6kEezOEaFqkclYyp1YIPmMIlOtab7mukG-xSfms_bQMrZgz8h2xxSWRkYuvQaCoVpe5-e3c/s320/mac+n+cheese+ingredients.jpg" />
<br />Turn the oven on to 250. Put the 4 slices of bread on the baking sheet and then put it in the oven for about ½ hour.
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<br />Put the skillet on a burner turned to medium and put the bacon in it to cook. Start grating the Velveeta into the mixing bowl.
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<br />Remember to check the bvacon while it’s cooking—don’t get too focused on grating the Velveeta. We’re multi-tasking here! When the bacon is browned, put it on a plate covered with a paper towel to cool. When cool, chop it into about ½ inch or smaller bits.
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<br />Put about a gallon of water into the pasta pot and put it on the stove turned to high. Bring to a boil, add a tablespoon of salt and add the pasta. Cook for about 8 minutes. Keep grating that Velveeta! Cook about 8 minutes—just a bit “al dente”. Pour the cooked pasta into a colander and shock with cold water to both stop the cooking and cool it down. And if you’re an anal retentive foo-foo foodie who would say that rinsing the pasta removes the starches, just go ahead an have an ice bath set up an put the drained pot full of pasta into a bowl and then into the ice bath.
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<br />When the bread has been in the oven long enough to thoroughly dry-out, take the pan from the oven and let it cool When it’s cooled you’re going to put it 2 slices at a time into the freezer bag and then use the rolling pin to turn it into crumbs—if you’ve got a bit of hostility to release, feel free to use the bottom of a sauce pan and whomp it into submission and crumbs. (When my wife does that I know without asking who she is metaphorically “whomping” if you get my drift).
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<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 258px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 172px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643754853480738018" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqPhHCPNb0dmMeyw0-b-EF-OB7m5SrN_-AhJIxUpBAjxhZarf48ax3y1po6rW0gCXEL_Ow_euLYfC5PfyKdu_ml7rndbsQkyjcPxs1Q0lvSJOMrQ_rOq734Pjms8ntfHxKbn2MQ2RPd1Y/s320/mac+n+cheese+breadcrumbs.jpg" />Put the bread crumbs into a medium bowl and mix them up with a generous handful of shredded bagged cheddar (or other cheese) and then sprinkle about 1 ½-2 tbsp of your favorite green herb (parsley, cilantro or basil—and if you use another “medicinal” herb add an extra tbsp, but I don’t want to know about it).
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<br />OK, so now all the prep work has been done. Pasta’s cooked. Bacon’s cooked and chopped. Jalapenos are chopped. Cheese is grated. And the oven should be pre-heating to 350.
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<br />Take all the ingredients (pasta, bacon, jalapenos, rest of shredded bagged cheese and grated Velveeta) and dump them in the big mixing bowl. Add the milk. Stir everything together in the casserole dish. Smooth it out and then evenly spread the bread crumb mixture over the top.
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<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 288px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 186px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643754850354343586" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg0x4vyQsdmuN7OVBX9OtrAkKpj-M6bgAvW-_Xkmek6BqONRSbiKETab0w1MxeKZx0zINYnn1n2ppyC-GHd_iBdeRyBqUg2xhsOJ-JKGC3EW0MykxyGfNKhldmjbX7FyDaXincZxMAHXU/s320/mac+n+cheese+ready+for+oven.jpg" />
<br />Pop this into the oven at 350 for about a half hour. Take a peek—has the top browned up? If not, turn your broiler on for about 2 minutes (do NOT leave the room when the broiler’s on!), then take another peek and see if it’s browned. But remember, under the broiler anything in the oven can go from toasty golden to charcoal in about 14 seconds if you’re not paying attention. If it’s starting to brown at 2 minutes, turn the oven off and just leave the casserole in the oven for about another minute. Then remove. Let it cool for about 10 minutes and then dish it up and enjoy!
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<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 290px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 183px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643754845760338210" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgACNak_LCFyscQ3bv_B1sfV7aOJDm2Xa8pdIcEXcamuNNfP4ZZnnim61Qb6R-Z_518bkpQC36ACLUWB2pgT8urc8h7RdG9cPD43YZWJtEgdDIBuwgBRdOjjl3_NbEn8PBRE2IC9fCRrVY/s320/mac+n+cheese+toasted+top.jpg" /> <strong>The Cheap Bastid Test:</strong> So how’d I do? Well, the pasta was the cheapest part. It cost me fifty cents (on special at the grocer). The bacon was about a third of a pound at $1.99 per pound for a total of $.67. The jalapeno was out of an open jar in the fridge and I used a couple of tablespoons that cost maybe a quarter. The cheese, that’s the big ticket.
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<br />I used a pound of Velveeta which cost me $4.50 and about 1/3 bag of shredded cheese (that’s all I had) which cost about $.80. So the total if my math is right is about $6.75 (I had to add a bit for the milk and 4 slices of bread). We got about 8 servings which means that they cost $.84 apiece. The bottom line is that’s not bad! Not bad at all for 2 dinners for 3 and a couple of lunches.
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<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 262px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 168px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643754840584947858" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUYaGRkiUbGZzqWaYXLSOWV2PwqqANxlZ55SQAy35ODuKmC42qV0cn0_8mRK6HTOj0CVmOi_Ke-VNzxF2dXQ-LhZ-iutnJ16_eK4-Zjsg_7aECqAnNDAdG8g6hS8jTUTsaXrnXPMkeyBQ/s320/mac+n+cheese+close+up.jpg" />
<br /><strong>Next Time</strong>: We went to Fraiser’s Farms the other day and checked out the cheeses. I really want to get under $4 a pound for cheese. I can get a 2 lb block of mild cheddar for $3.29 a pound and Mozzarella for $3.99 or real American (not the crappy stuff that’s individually wrapped) for $3.79 a pound. So, next time I think it’ll be Cheddar and American mixed together.
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<br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">That’s the Cheap Bastid Way: Eat Good. Eat Cheap. Be Grateful! </span></strong></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125338932595579267.post-73705361967852020172011-08-21T12:54:00.000-07:002011-08-21T12:57:47.458-07:00Makin' WhoopeeThere’s no instruction manual for raising kids. And there’s definitely no instruction manual for when your 21 year old (in my case step-daughter) moves in.
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<br />Now, we’re smart enough to know that when Megan moved in with us (in our small 2-bedroom apartment) last November to leave her alone and pretty much let her come and go as she please. She works full time and she also takes classes on a part-time basis. Her work schedule will vary from day to day. Some days from 1 to 10 p.m., others from 5 a.m. to 2 p.m. It keeps her hopping.
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<br />We know that on Wednesday nights she likes to go out for hot wings with a bunch of friends—what she calls the “Wing Nuts”. That’s cool. And she’s good about e-mailing her work schedule to her mom each week. And that’s cool too.
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<br />Where things get a bit iffy is whether or not she’s going to be home for dinner—so I get a better idea of what and how much to cook. And sometimes she gets off work and goes to the gym or comes home for a bit and then goes to the gym.
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<br />So it’s not the easiest thing in the world to predict when she’ll be home, how long she’ll be home, etc. But that’s all right. Mostly.
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<br />The hard thing is…OK, so how do I put this delicately? The hard thing is, well, it’s “makin’ whoopee”.
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<br />Look, some people might consider me an old fart at 60 and some might even consider my bride “old” at 49. And most assuredly, the young woman my wife gave birth to just doesn’t want to even “go there”—you know think about her Mom “making whoopee”.
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<br />It’s scheduling. My work schedule is a bit goofy too. And trying to coordinate with Meg’s comings and goings makes it trickier.
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<br />And, well just figure that we’re of an age when going to bed at night pretty much means it’s time to go to sleep. We get tired. A 21 year old can get up at 4 to go to work and come home at 2 and then go out half the night knowing that she’s off until the next afternoon and then crash and burn a couple of days later when she’s got a day off. We can’t do that. We gotta go to sleep at night.
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<br />So, we wait until we know she’s gone. Gone all day, gone all day when I’m home from work. We put off other things waiting in anticipation. Waiting until after her lunch time to make sure she’s not going to pop in during her break.
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<br />And then…..oh yeah! And then. “Afternoon Delight”.
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125338932595579267.post-86542878715687427032011-08-16T10:26:00.000-07:002011-08-16T10:59:48.179-07:00Cheap Bastid's When McDonald's Becomes Comfort FoodLast Wednesday night, I had promised to make spaghetti with home-made meatballs—and believe me, I can make some wicked good meatballs. Well, when I got home from work, Carolyn and I got talking.
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<br />She’d had kind of a bummer of a day. She was still trying to get things done with her Mother’s house and that afternoon we took care of the 2 cars that were occupying the garage, selling them to a guy I know who owns an auto repair shop who offered to take them off our hands. And the day before, Carolyn had taken Stucco, the dog, to the ASPCA shelter. So she was a bit bummed by the finality of things—and the house which now lacked occupants or life.
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<br />So, with just a minimum of whining, I let her talk me into a treat for dinner for her. For Cheap Bastid, a treat for dinner is a trip to McDonald’s for some McDoubles. I was dispatched to get a half dozen McDoubles off the dollar menu for the 2 of us and step-daughter Meg along with fries. OK, not bad. It’s reasonably inexpensive.
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<br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 270px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 165px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641508498841359234" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQx4Nz1-HbjsKVCv3Ns31uVpLCCsixOJNU4NRS2AZhmrpFolDm1ASXMSp6F-VOU0LayLhtGd_mGFJoWXsVLS9KAvNlk-JsvxcKrfApAKyXmZPN1WT1bSALLgAIsh9Uevv64LELmMhoEjU/s320/mcdouble.jpg" />
<br />I got home with them while they were still hot. OK, they were warm—what passes for hot at the “golden arches”.
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<br />We dug in. Oh man, it was a burger orgy. Now I make a pretty mean burger either in a skillet or on the grill. But every once in a while you just get a jones on for a “gut bomb”. You taste the grease—beef fat—and you taste some salt as you chomp into the brownish-grey blob of meat. As the meaty fat hits your palate you get a hit from the pickle and mustard and then a dollop of sweet from the ketchup. And you feel guilty. You know this isn’t “good food”. It would make a true foo-foo foodie barf—but they don’t know what they’re missing while they’re chomping their $30 Wagu beef burger on a fresh-made "artisan" roll. </div>
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<br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 185px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 199px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641508496073689778" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOOCPJLOkJBK8mVt_mAkPganT2HyqOeEBq4EmGGaMpGDeBnfaTK2gK-yGqYQWW2QAvWxOIQ978BzUpoqRckFSvfgD-rIRdbfcbtsVQh8GW4tsf6HAVxyaut7_OL5gSAw2x92WscG0ms2Y/s320/mcdouble+and+dollar.jpg" />
<br />Then after a bite or 2 you dive into the fries. They’re perfectly golden—you can never get that perfect shade of yellow-gold at home. Salty. A hint of crisp on the outside and tender ‘tater on the inside. These are heaven. It’s no wonder that McDonald’s has a reputation for making the best “fast-food” joint fries.
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<br />Oh, and by the way, why is it called “fast-food”? It took 6 minutes from the time I placed the order for 6 McDoubles and 3 large fries for them to appear in a sack in my hand. I don’t call that “fast food”. I remember as a kid ordering them at a walk-up window at McDonalds. A dime for a burger and twelve cents for a cheeseburger. The person in the window processed the order, took the money, turned around, grabbed the grub, flipped in a bag and handed it to you. All in about 15 seconds. That’s fast food, Bubba.
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<br />But what would a Cheap Bastid piece be without some sort of rant? A double-cheeseburger is still a “value” at $1. And, if I were smart, I would have opted for the $1 small fries. But no, I wanted lots of fries and ordered 3 large fries, one for each of us. They’re $2.50 apiece! Damn!</div>
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<br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 191px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 166px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641508490714006082" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9uBCx9TphjsvZpnyTNw6qMDKFGTI2cqXTqnDEzrEPuJ7kKuhedUja8oLX7uNABmWfbD8OnmFuCv26XrRUmmtYlmWjW5LmDlPEHeDeOhnJw64BG77lvCv3uDaXnESn4oEWkZ6gbO0AB0E/s320/large+fries.bmp" /></div>
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<br /><div>I can get 10 lbs of potatoes for $2.99! $2.50 for a large fry? They’ve got to be making at least 2 bucks for each order. Holy crap! Two-fifty! My six bucks for the double-cheeses ended up being right at $15 by the time I was done. How damn stupid am I? And I didn’t even order sodas—no way, I’ve got soda at home. Cans for the “girls” and my 2 liter bottle of Vernor’s for me. <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 249px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 154px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641508491575154482" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwd7UuXkTtvRni1d5S8-UAaeoVmL753H5qfUDc0mH_RlYh8KM-4xr3a36jaLqLH9rrJCnW9xS9HvK0tBQ4ZAIL4cBxC2_eTxhd3ENsC5RM6bVY-iUuiPN576KZPW-210m_uYDzKXpP2Cg/s320/10+lb+sack+of+potatoes.jpg" />
<br />Yeah, I know, they’re good! But, I just Googled the calorie count in a large order of fries from MickeyD’s. 570. That’s a lot. Damn, they’re good. But that’s a lot. And there’s 30g of fat. And there’s 390 calories in each McDouble. That’s 1350 calories. And I wonder why I’ve been gaining weight.
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<br />But…Yeah, here comes the but…they’re good. An occasional binge on McDoubles and fries isn’t all that bad. Or is it?
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<br />But, (here’s the real but), when your wife needs a special comfort food—like McDoubles and fries—because she’s bummed from losing her mother and is having to take care of a lot of stuff from the estate, it’s worth it. </div>
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<br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 184px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 179px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641508487290127218" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-y_rOeN98DUj-Mfz85sYGyrg6gnwgBWfZLi6KBDXFHdxvBaNt7wmLPtXSM75rmGd_hebaM-C5br9ootkM4Sonx9nqolQ_GDbkkGwOxMfk6DnLAhAo_bovz0yJGsPCqmuwcfc2svHtIkc/s320/McDs+large+fries.jpg" />
<br />And...have you ever noticed that all the pictures in ads for McDonald's fries show the fries over-flowing the container? And when you fish your fries out of the bag they don't even get up to the front lip? Are we getting hosed? Oh yeah, a two-fifty hosing!
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<br />So, do you think we overdid it with the bowls of ice cream an hour later? Naw, me either.
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<br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">And that’s the Cheap Bastid Way: Eat Good. Eat Cheap. Be Grateful.</span></strong> </div></div></div></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125338932595579267.post-42460846166245045302011-08-11T10:46:00.000-07:002011-08-11T11:10:11.764-07:00Uh-Oh, The Feds Are After MeA rare advantage of posting my blogs on Blogspot is that I have it linked to “Sitemeter” which lets me see the number of visits, what post was seen, the ISP of the visitor and often the city of the visitor. OK, don’t get bored and move on…hopefully this will get just a little bit better.
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<br />Unfortunately, far too many of the “hits” to this site are for people looking for pictures of Giada DeLaurentiis’ cleavage, Joy Hickey, banana hammocks, the V-22 Osprey, used car salesman cartoons and Sarah Palin as a Zombie (actually I’m kind of proud of the Sarah Palin/zombie connection). Oh yeah, and Buckwheat.
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<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 169px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 202px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639656736395910162" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirx0At68XLRSkY_oOmLJ2WE4XsXPtfJAzbbpXLRHv5042ShtHaIo6oC7qsLiq8LxPfEZRl7vdIxlwtk0E-22lWdGGOLGg4wfZjtLVDXX4Ojj7_cPAIaQCIqNuCToLjBwBaFJhaP82n0Wo/s320/buckwheat.jpg" />
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<br /><div>Yep, Buckwheat. You know, the cute little African-American kid from “The Little Rascals". The one who Eddie Murphy parodied on “SNL” and in his shows. That Buckwheat. The one who’s brought me to the attention of the Feds.
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<br />The Feds. As in Federal Government. As in Department of Justice. As in Drug Enforcement Administration.
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<br />You see, I wrote a blog post in September of 2010 featuring Buckwheat and how my wife and I like to talk in his unique language that we call “Buhweet”. Like, “Otay Buhweet”.
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<br />This particular blog post was inspired by a newspaper article I read which said that the Atlanta DEA office was looking to hire translators—in Spanish, Vietnamese, Korean, Farsi and…are you ready?...Ebonics. So that got my imagination going and I made the connection to Buckwheat. And I wrote a tongue-in-cheek blog post. Here’s a link:
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<br />http://open.salon.com/blog/just-walt/2010/09/14/the_dea_ebonics_and_buckwheat--whassup
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<br />So how does that bring me to the attention of the DOJ and DEA? Well, in the interest of interesting illustration, I did a Google Image search and included a DEA logo in the blog post. And, the other day (see this is where Sitemeter comes in handy) I noticed that someone had spent the better part of 6 minutes in my Blogspot blog. Hmmmmm, I wonder who? The ISP was “US Dept of Justice” and the ISP is “usdoj.gov”. The search was for "DEA Logo". To quote Ralphie from “A Christmas Story”: “Oh fuuuuuddddggggge.”
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<br />And I asked myself, “Self, do these guys have a sense of humor?” And, of course, the answer is, “Hell no.”
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<br />Anytime now I expect to hear the sound of doors slamming on several Crown Vics, the sound of multiple feet thumping up the flight of stairs right outside our door and then the crash of a sledgehammer on the door as they come after this serious miscreant. Half a dozen guys in jumpsuits and bullet proof vests and helmets wearing windbreakers that say “DEA” on the back. </div>
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<br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 313px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 181px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639656731820670482" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvI2WxWAOfU6PpXcVzQ5cF6LFCNN_x0UoDJm4tz-5jkMo0AKBvbJmMTURB6DRQYd1p3kq5Fj3x4W6WThX9NK-R3gWJCWbH2-Ytqd3Epi01tWH7r2GxRx_nIr6yacT62oBzTIA7bZe9xL0/s320/dea+agents.jpg" /></div></div>
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<br /><div>Will they Mace me? Will they tackle me and kneel on my back (hey guys I’ve got some pretty bad arthritis in my right shoulder so take it easy when you cuff me, OK?).
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<br />The music from “Dragnet” is going through my brain. “Dum, dee dum dum. Dum, dee dum dum, dum!” “Just the facts, ma’am,” they’ll tell my wife.
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<br />And it’s all DEA’s fault for stepping on my funny bone about hiring Ebonics translators. If they hadn’t done that, I wouldn’t have had my brain-fart about Buckwheat. I wouldn’t have started writing. I wouldn’t have uploaded their damn logo into a blog post. </div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 317px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 96px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639656726047410114" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivDDui4FXIbY_ZvflcNLOe5ZHZ8P9REA3-n3gl46cI32CEI60bfUSgYBs9bANCYLKMJZJAUl3dqhyMUVwshFgqKe76haidctoMtNrpjmOqW2eufdICjr7wrr0xIrtMjMmooaXkDG7SpdQ/s320/wwbd.jpg" />But that’s OK. I know they have to do their job of protecting the American public. From no-good-niks like me. At least there’s no one at DOJ.gov checking out Giada DiLaurentiis’ cleavage.
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<br />And if I have to go to the slammer all I have to say to my wife is, “I wubbu”. </div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125338932595579267.post-19090491601398020932011-08-04T22:46:00.000-07:002011-08-04T23:01:15.652-07:00A Tale of Momma Stella, Stucco and WillBearIt’s been a long summer in our little corner of Southern California. I never realized that so much crap could come oozing along to upset our merry little daily routine of just getting by. Up until the third week of April we were comfortable in our routines and happy in our little apartment in a not-so-good neighborhood here in Vista.<br /><br />All that changed when we got a call at 6:30 a.m. from Carolyn’s mother. Momma Stella said she had just called 911 because she thought her son was dead. Her son, who was 45, lived with her in her home in a neighboring city. We quickly threw some clothes on and dashed over kind of hoping that she was the kind of wrong that a little old lady can be sometimes but at the same time afraid that wouldn’t be the case.<br /><br />We got there to find 2 police cars in front of the house. Yes, the ambulance had already been there and left. Now we were waiting for the Medical Examiner to show up, make the official pronouncement of death and take the body away for autopsy. He had died in his sleep and they needed to find a cause. Turns out he went to sleep, had a heart attack and never woke up.<br /><br /><div><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 314px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 197px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637245140364818274" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMXcMf-1Buo3epIDY3Lh6wYii7K1Y_ylNsKwoGGmlzT8g-hoTgaGtVGOnbF9QwcKZTFmFosPfGvgGlLecPwKQOXTr6XW9C1hNXtsJuhoei44lFpVvLRZaF6GHaGWuigQYstW3wJGHmyd4/s320/house.jpg" /> <br /><div>So we were faced with taking care of arrangements and working with Momma Stella to help her get set up and totally on her own at age 71. You don’t need to know all the details but her son had been in and out of jail for several years for drug possession, addiction and other various and sundry offenses that the addicted commit while under the influence or while trying to get under the influence.<br /><br />Things were going along fine for about 6 weeks. Momma Stella was getting along fine and lo-and-behold her money was starting to stretch out and last the whole month. Until a morning in June when we got a call. It was Momma Stella. She was dizzy and disoriented; feeling really sick. Carolyn sent me off to work thinking it was just a bug or something and then went over to her mother’s house. By the time she got there, it was obvious that an ambulance needed to be called.<br /><br />And it all deteriorated from there. Five weeks later this 71-year old lady was dead of ovarian cancer. We watched her deteriorate day by day. She managed to take one treatment of chemotherapy and her condition worsened too much to ever take another. Within 2 weeks of her diagnosis she was no longer ambulatory and had to go back into the hospital, then to a nursing home for several days to gain some strength and eventually when her condition continued to deteriorate to in-home hospice where my wife, Carolyn provided the 24/7 care.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 243px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 166px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637245136578976338" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3meQVZ6MN50RSpBvw4-ZKiG7wz02vyvjOYiTCPWwrbaBJLfsQbNFnB3R_KeC4ZMz4_0hexLPyTFbhIxEFLkbFBKxsgDxbIH_yJN2wElc_Zs7CbJZH36Im0ZDRXGMAa38VNJ-aL3L9F4g/s320/Stucco.jpg" /></div><br /><div>Stucco the dog, was confused. She didn’t seem to understand the change in her routine. She was “banished” outdoors. She’s a happy dog and loves to roughhouse. She loves to chase a tennis ball around the yard just as long as I would play tug-of-war with her to get her to let go of it and throw it again. I just love tossing around a slimy tennis ball!<br /><br />We’d make sure she had plenty of water and a full food bowl along with some babbling to her about what a good dog she is. And then she’d give off a goofy doggie grin and want to wrestle some more.<br /><br />All through this I witnessed a level of tenderness and care provided by Carolyn that was in its own way a beautiful thing to behold. The loving way she cared for her mother and the ways she tolerated the natural cantankerousness of her dying mother were moving each and every day. They would occasionally fuss with each other but they knew that it was the natural relationship of a mother and daughter and within a couple of minutes tempers would be sheathed and everything would be OK.<br /><br />Before the in-home hospice, Carolyn would load Momma Stella into the car for doctor’s appointments. It only took a couple of weeks before Carolyn bought her Mom her very own transport wheelchair with a bright red seat and back which Momma Stella loved. All too soon though even that was over because she came home from the nursing home bedridden. She never got up again.<br /><br />I was over there on many days to say hello to my mother-in-law, check on how she was doing and to give my wife some hugs and a few kisses to let her know how much she was missed at home and how much she was appreciated.<br /><br />I was also there to take my turn from time to time so Carolyn could go and run some errands. And also so she could just get away for a bit to relax, breathe deep and, if need be, have a good cry.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 263px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 192px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637245131980592658" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirlILaLeCUBgViUdIo-0_xathNmi4Pr_xLANU9Uih1hHEQQkOhypBQx-CHQgApIFtYAH3kfTIfT8Yu0vFk39o52pcb-NnXR69-DPNk5GiY1xBSLCKx6yg4Qeyw4AveMT3gsQpTlSk8lJQ/s320/WillBear.jpg" /><br />The last week, when Carolyn was able to slip home for an hour I encouraged her to take her Christmas Guardian bear WillBear with her for company late at night when she was alone with Momma Stella and she was lonely and scared.<br /><br />WillBear is this cuddly stuffed teddybear that Santa brought Carolyn for Christmas. His job is to watch out for Carolyn and take care of her when she needs it. He usually spends his days sitting on our bed at home, the keeper of the TV remote and his nights perched across the room so he can keep his eye on things.<br /><br />WillBear made it a point to stay by Carolyn’s side during that long, stressful last week. He slept in her arms every night when she was lonely and scared. He reassured her when she had to start using morphine to help ease the pain. And he was there with her when Momma Stella drew her last breath, watching over Carolyn and Momma Stella and Stucco letting them know that they had all done the right thing.</div><br /><div></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 268px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 215px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637245131667442098" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCmBjGj-CM32snXd7DOS3D3Gd4L1oQOk1TY0aBAdgm4tJ6DLefS6D5Tu3uJcfO8MhPrGZgym6sDM3KQyMWUH4zr8BPDRG1yCHx13jzfLVe0GO_maiVmVzNkp3pUaiGGplp68DYWxRTadU/s320/momma+stella.jpg" /> <br /><div>Momma Stella is gone now. Seventy-one years. And she never really seemed to get the chance to enjoy many of them. But she’s at rest. She’s no longer in pain from the cancer which ate at her in her last days. Stucco will unfortunately probably end up with the ASPCA for adoption. We can’t keep an 80 pound moose of a dog in a small second floor apartment. I hope she finds a happy home with some folks who will love her and wrestle with her and make her part of their family.<br /><br />Carolyn is home now. She misses her Mom and still wants to give her a phone call each day. She’s trying to figure out the best way to handle giving the house back to the bank because the mortgage is seriously “underwater”. Otherwise the house on Hilldale is empty of people and pretty forlorn. Stucco’s looking after things for a few days and we stop by each day to feed her and “rassle”.<br /><br />WillBear is home now, back on duty. Except now he sits in the living room in his own small rocker—keeping an eye out on all the goings on in our modest home. </div><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 188px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637245126649769698" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6dvDCZSulM8Xg-x_aCm14U0nETtu056KPWXWlvUk5MzThr8iOTH1NtX4zPvm5te4EDfsxYedDEiyOixAnncfyNIZPNHr3za-6WSVvmlBKbmN7fDUrGn8BUZnWmK2m0AfpiOHRk_3vW1s/s320/carolyn+n+stucco.jpg" />There’s a hero in this story and that’s Carolyn. Her compassion and patience and love and dedication were a shining light to her mother. She’s still pretty sad, but she’s had a lot to contend with these past 3 months. Carolyn’s buddy WillBear is looking out for her and that’s good too. Stucco will be all right, someone’s going to get to adopt one terrific dog. But that Carolyn, she’s quite a lady. </div><br /><div>Momma Stella’s not around anymore—but in her own way, she still is. </div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0