Thursday, May 13, 2010
Life Lesson #346
It is very difficult, without a really, really great blintz/crepe pan, to make blintzes when you cannot find a spatula.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Deal of the Century
Eons ago, when I was but a small lad, my father, out on a grocery shopping expedition, came across an extra large (32 ounces, I believe) container of Plochman's mustard. This particular condiment, which was being offered for sale at an obscenely low price, was promptly purchased, brought home, and dubbed with the grandiose title "Deal of the Century."
I never found out how much my father paid for that mustard (the most popular guess-never confirmed-was $0.49), nor did I actually ever taste it. My unfortunate brother sampled the stuff, and based upon his reaction, we concluded that the Plochmans, albeit likely a very nice family, did not possess any particular mustard-making skill.
Alas, the "Deal of the Century" turned into something of an albatross around our family's collective neck, mocking us from its position on a high shelf in our walk-in pantry.
As was the case when we found ourselves with a surplus of C&C Root Beer, my father was forced to reprise his "desperate salesman" role. At just about every meal over the next few months, meat or dairy, we were offered Plochman's mustard. It didn't work. That mustard container continued to gather dust, and the "Deal of the Century" had now become an unmitigated disaster.
Perhaps we should've tried to create a "pool" of mustard, containing several brands, and sold bonds representing that "blended" mustard. We could've referred to these financial instruments as Mustard-Backed Securities or MBSs (and you thought that "MBS" stood for "Mortgage-Backed Securities. Silly reader). Alas, there were relatively few hedge funds in those days, so there was a dearth of geniuses to whom we could sell these bonds.
Given my family's unfortunate experience with that container of Plochman's mustard, I've generally been loathe to label anything the "Deal of the Century." Today, however, I came across a deal that severely tested my resistance to using that label.
I walked into a Quick Check store near my workplace, intending to purchase a 32 ounce, diet, carbonated, caffeinated soft drink produced by an Atlanta-based company. Typically, such a beverage sells for $0.99 ($1.06 after tax), which is an excellent price to begin with. However, when I got to the cash register, I was informed that Quick Check is currently conducting a promotion called "Happy Hour" (how original!), which takes place between 3PM and 7PM, Monday through Friday. During "Happy Hour" 32 ounce fountain soda is half price. In other words, this refreshing 32 ounce beverage would be mine for the magically low price of $0.53. Fifty-three cents! Sure, when my parents were young, that amount could buy you two loaves of bread, a pastrami sandwich, a newspaper, two queen-size mattresses, a tank of gas and six egg creams and a small donkey. Nowadays, though, paying 1.66 cents per ounce for soda is an awfully good deal.
The nice thing about this deal is that it can be replicated several times. In fact, over the coming days, that's precisely what I intend to do. If need be, I will bathe in Diet Coke. Sure, that doesn't sound too appetizing, but at least it beats attempting to avoid making eye contact with the Plochman's mustard container every time I raided the pantry.
I never found out how much my father paid for that mustard (the most popular guess-never confirmed-was $0.49), nor did I actually ever taste it. My unfortunate brother sampled the stuff, and based upon his reaction, we concluded that the Plochmans, albeit likely a very nice family, did not possess any particular mustard-making skill.
Alas, the "Deal of the Century" turned into something of an albatross around our family's collective neck, mocking us from its position on a high shelf in our walk-in pantry.
As was the case when we found ourselves with a surplus of C&C Root Beer, my father was forced to reprise his "desperate salesman" role. At just about every meal over the next few months, meat or dairy, we were offered Plochman's mustard. It didn't work. That mustard container continued to gather dust, and the "Deal of the Century" had now become an unmitigated disaster.
Perhaps we should've tried to create a "pool" of mustard, containing several brands, and sold bonds representing that "blended" mustard. We could've referred to these financial instruments as Mustard-Backed Securities or MBSs (and you thought that "MBS" stood for "Mortgage-Backed Securities. Silly reader). Alas, there were relatively few hedge funds in those days, so there was a dearth of geniuses to whom we could sell these bonds.
Given my family's unfortunate experience with that container of Plochman's mustard, I've generally been loathe to label anything the "Deal of the Century." Today, however, I came across a deal that severely tested my resistance to using that label.
I walked into a Quick Check store near my workplace, intending to purchase a 32 ounce, diet, carbonated, caffeinated soft drink produced by an Atlanta-based company. Typically, such a beverage sells for $0.99 ($1.06 after tax), which is an excellent price to begin with. However, when I got to the cash register, I was informed that Quick Check is currently conducting a promotion called "Happy Hour" (how original!), which takes place between 3PM and 7PM, Monday through Friday. During "Happy Hour" 32 ounce fountain soda is half price. In other words, this refreshing 32 ounce beverage would be mine for the magically low price of $0.53. Fifty-three cents! Sure, when my parents were young, that amount could buy you two loaves of bread, a pastrami sandwich, a newspaper, two queen-size mattresses, a tank of gas and six egg creams and a small donkey. Nowadays, though, paying 1.66 cents per ounce for soda is an awfully good deal.
The nice thing about this deal is that it can be replicated several times. In fact, over the coming days, that's precisely what I intend to do. If need be, I will bathe in Diet Coke. Sure, that doesn't sound too appetizing, but at least it beats attempting to avoid making eye contact with the Plochman's mustard container every time I raided the pantry.
Autumn's In the Air
Having just come to terms with the warmer weather and the friendly little creepy crawlies that entails, the season changed. I say autumn, but it's really more wintry (at least in the morning or at night).
Normally, this would not bother me. I enjoy the nippy air. However, I had just recently scoffed at the "frost-free date," and planted annuals in various beds and pots around the lawn. So last evening, I and my kids spent some time collecting rocks, and covering the delicate plants with newspaper. Lucky for us the frost was expected on a weekend night, when the newspapers from Saturday and Sunday are very full. One of my offspring suggested we use a tarp, which we did, and covered a few areas, but there were just too many flowers and not enough rocks to get allthe young growths covered. Plus it was windy as all get-out, and the last thing I wanted was to spend Monday morning cleaning up blown newspaper from my neighbors' properties. I threw caution to wind, and assumed that it wouldn't hit actual freezing.
I hope they survive the rest of the week. We get so much joy from these flowers, it would be terribly disappointing if they froze to death.
Normally, this would not bother me. I enjoy the nippy air. However, I had just recently scoffed at the "frost-free date," and planted annuals in various beds and pots around the lawn. So last evening, I and my kids spent some time collecting rocks, and covering the delicate plants with newspaper. Lucky for us the frost was expected on a weekend night, when the newspapers from Saturday and Sunday are very full. One of my offspring suggested we use a tarp, which we did, and covered a few areas, but there were just too many flowers and not enough rocks to get allthe young growths covered. Plus it was windy as all get-out, and the last thing I wanted was to spend Monday morning cleaning up blown newspaper from my neighbors' properties. I threw caution to wind, and assumed that it wouldn't hit actual freezing.
I hope they survive the rest of the week. We get so much joy from these flowers, it would be terribly disappointing if they froze to death.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Is This Really a Problem?
I recently had an argument with my brother, in which he was correct on one point. I should not have called him an idiot.
As for the main point of his argument, I still do not agree that it is something worth getting all discombobulated about.
He feels strongly, very strongly, apparently, that young men who come to shul with their hat brims flipped up have no feeling of respect for the decorum of the shul. I think this is one of the most ridiculous things I've heard.
In an age were underage drinking and smoking are rampant in Yeshivas, and a time when guys are often late, very late, to minyan (if they go at all when they're off), bothering a 19 or twenty year old kid because his hat brim is flipped up is just silly.
To me, one of the most hypocritical parts of this argument, is that if the guy came in wearing a cap, baseball or other, no one would say boo, but once he's wearing a hat, the brim has to be down? It's not enough that in certain circles the stetson style hat has been given a status of its own that has no basis in Jewish law, now, it must also be worn "just so?"
I heard the argument from a cousin, that you wouldn't go on a date or have pictures taken at a wedding with a hat brim up. I'd say a person's relationship to God is personal, and YOU might come in with a blue shirt, who is to say that "hat brim up guy" does not see that as the height of chutzpah? Others chimed in that it's just an IN YOUR FACE statement by the younger people. And if it is? I'd say that's fairly innocuous as these things go.
When you live in a world were every single guy you know and go to school with looks like you, white shirt black pants, it is certainly possible that you want to a)be different, or if everyone of your age group is doing it? b)be that much different from the older generation.
My brother said it's only a problem if you wish to lead the davening. If you won't put the brim down, then you can't. Again, each shul is welcome to their own set of rules of decorum, but in an age where so much has become contentious, this is just another way to alienate the younger generation making religion once again into a place of choking made up rules by those who think they are being "frummer."
There is a problem of respect and decorum in this younger generation, mainly because parents are too busy making sure their kids are "happy" all the time then teaching them right from wrong. A chance encounter in shul, in which a kid is put on the defensive will impart nothing except ill will. The hat brim at best is indicative of a problem, if you believe that, not a problem in and of itself. Treating a fever without finding and treating the actual disease is pointless.
Maybe it's time for ballei batim to pick up the phone after an off shabbos, and actually SPEAK to a mashgiach or Rosh Yeshiva, and tell them what happens when the boys come home. Explain how they look sloppy and messy and don't seem to have learned about the kovod of a bais hakenesses, and it puts their status as a "ben torah" in jeopardy in the eyes of the rest of the community.
I really doubt that the HKBH will not accept the tefilios of a congregation in which the chazzan wore his hat brim up, but I am pretty sure that when shul becomes a place of discord, fighting or even alienation, He will not be too pleased.
As for the main point of his argument, I still do not agree that it is something worth getting all discombobulated about.
He feels strongly, very strongly, apparently, that young men who come to shul with their hat brims flipped up have no feeling of respect for the decorum of the shul. I think this is one of the most ridiculous things I've heard.
In an age were underage drinking and smoking are rampant in Yeshivas, and a time when guys are often late, very late, to minyan (if they go at all when they're off), bothering a 19 or twenty year old kid because his hat brim is flipped up is just silly.
To me, one of the most hypocritical parts of this argument, is that if the guy came in wearing a cap, baseball or other, no one would say boo, but once he's wearing a hat, the brim has to be down? It's not enough that in certain circles the stetson style hat has been given a status of its own that has no basis in Jewish law, now, it must also be worn "just so?"
I heard the argument from a cousin, that you wouldn't go on a date or have pictures taken at a wedding with a hat brim up. I'd say a person's relationship to God is personal, and YOU might come in with a blue shirt, who is to say that "hat brim up guy" does not see that as the height of chutzpah? Others chimed in that it's just an IN YOUR FACE statement by the younger people. And if it is? I'd say that's fairly innocuous as these things go.
When you live in a world were every single guy you know and go to school with looks like you, white shirt black pants, it is certainly possible that you want to a)be different, or if everyone of your age group is doing it? b)be that much different from the older generation.
My brother said it's only a problem if you wish to lead the davening. If you won't put the brim down, then you can't. Again, each shul is welcome to their own set of rules of decorum, but in an age where so much has become contentious, this is just another way to alienate the younger generation making religion once again into a place of choking made up rules by those who think they are being "frummer."
There is a problem of respect and decorum in this younger generation, mainly because parents are too busy making sure their kids are "happy" all the time then teaching them right from wrong. A chance encounter in shul, in which a kid is put on the defensive will impart nothing except ill will. The hat brim at best is indicative of a problem, if you believe that, not a problem in and of itself. Treating a fever without finding and treating the actual disease is pointless.
Maybe it's time for ballei batim to pick up the phone after an off shabbos, and actually SPEAK to a mashgiach or Rosh Yeshiva, and tell them what happens when the boys come home. Explain how they look sloppy and messy and don't seem to have learned about the kovod of a bais hakenesses, and it puts their status as a "ben torah" in jeopardy in the eyes of the rest of the community.
I really doubt that the HKBH will not accept the tefilios of a congregation in which the chazzan wore his hat brim up, but I am pretty sure that when shul becomes a place of discord, fighting or even alienation, He will not be too pleased.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Weird
I've written before about going to new places within my own town, and how going out of my typical comfort zone can be jarring.
My two oldest girls went on a high school weekend, and left this morning. Having only a few kids home, I decided it'd be nice to go out for pizza, something we haven't done in a long time (not that we don't eat pizza, just that we haven't gone out to eat at a pizza place in awhile. Once I asked one of the kids -she was about four at the time-if she wanted frozen pizza for lunch. Her response? "well could you heat it up?").
So we got in the car, and started to drive. There's a pizza place about 3/4 of a mile from my house, but the kids started discussing that they didn't want to go there. I said fine, where should we go? I should have figured that a) they'd pick the place furthest away and b)a place we hadn't been to in YEARS.
Not that it was THAT far away, but definitely the furthest. First, this pizza place is in the same strip mall as a grocery store, with a very small parking lot and this being Thursday night.... we ended parking towards the back near the bakery. No big deal, and we walked around to the front and into the pizza store.
There were probably four or five tables occupied by adults with kids, some were a few tables of people who were together, and some were just alone. My kids sat down, and as I looked around, I couldn't help but say to the twelve year old: "Not one person looks happy here."
I was not kidding. The place was quiet, really quiet, and almost all the adults were just sitting with their arms folded across their chests, and watching their kids eat. If you're going to spend the time and money to go out, why not enjoy it? Many years ago one of my sisters told me that adults tend not to look happy in repose, unless they make themselves smile, otherwise they just look dour (years later, another sister explained that that is why one should not take candid pictures of adults, they tend not to come out good). Well, this certainly proved that. I really was so uncomfortable, like this was such an odd place to be, but I went and ordered the pizza anyway.
The guy at the counter didn't like my order, and told me that 5 slices costs the same as one pie, and I wanted a pie. I thought about it, and decided I could always as I heard learned a few years ago, reheat the pizza at home if it was leftover. It was good pizza, and there was none left. Maybe because the guy cut it in 16ths instead of eighths? That was one kids' theory. Or maybe, because the fries took FOREVER to be ready, and I only bought one order for all of us to share...either way, they scarfed that pizza (I helped...a lot), and after about ten minutes all the unhappy people left, and it was just us.
Until the next strange thing happened. A woman walked in with her two boys. Not odd in itself, EXCEPT that this is someone I haven't seen in probably eight months or so, and I just met her somewhere THIS MORNING!!!! Of all the gin joints.....though in this case, even though I was there first, I walked into hers, because as we were shmoozing she told me she comes here every Thursday night.
Today was just a wacky day.
My two oldest girls went on a high school weekend, and left this morning. Having only a few kids home, I decided it'd be nice to go out for pizza, something we haven't done in a long time (not that we don't eat pizza, just that we haven't gone out to eat at a pizza place in awhile. Once I asked one of the kids -she was about four at the time-if she wanted frozen pizza for lunch. Her response? "well could you heat it up?").
So we got in the car, and started to drive. There's a pizza place about 3/4 of a mile from my house, but the kids started discussing that they didn't want to go there. I said fine, where should we go? I should have figured that a) they'd pick the place furthest away and b)a place we hadn't been to in YEARS.
Not that it was THAT far away, but definitely the furthest. First, this pizza place is in the same strip mall as a grocery store, with a very small parking lot and this being Thursday night.... we ended parking towards the back near the bakery. No big deal, and we walked around to the front and into the pizza store.
There were probably four or five tables occupied by adults with kids, some were a few tables of people who were together, and some were just alone. My kids sat down, and as I looked around, I couldn't help but say to the twelve year old: "Not one person looks happy here."
I was not kidding. The place was quiet, really quiet, and almost all the adults were just sitting with their arms folded across their chests, and watching their kids eat. If you're going to spend the time and money to go out, why not enjoy it? Many years ago one of my sisters told me that adults tend not to look happy in repose, unless they make themselves smile, otherwise they just look dour (years later, another sister explained that that is why one should not take candid pictures of adults, they tend not to come out good). Well, this certainly proved that. I really was so uncomfortable, like this was such an odd place to be, but I went and ordered the pizza anyway.
The guy at the counter didn't like my order, and told me that 5 slices costs the same as one pie, and I wanted a pie. I thought about it, and decided I could always as I heard learned a few years ago, reheat the pizza at home if it was leftover. It was good pizza, and there was none left. Maybe because the guy cut it in 16ths instead of eighths? That was one kids' theory. Or maybe, because the fries took FOREVER to be ready, and I only bought one order for all of us to share...either way, they scarfed that pizza (I helped...a lot), and after about ten minutes all the unhappy people left, and it was just us.
Until the next strange thing happened. A woman walked in with her two boys. Not odd in itself, EXCEPT that this is someone I haven't seen in probably eight months or so, and I just met her somewhere THIS MORNING!!!! Of all the gin joints.....though in this case, even though I was there first, I walked into hers, because as we were shmoozing she told me she comes here every Thursday night.
Today was just a wacky day.
Is That Really a Job?
I was driving along today, a route I take often, and I knew there was construction afoot, because it's been ongoing for the past week or so. However, today, I would say my flabbers were gasted.
As I descended a hill, I saw that half of my lane and half the lane of oncoming traffic was cut off by red traffic cones. So all traffic needed to move to the right of their respective lanes. No problem. Except there was nothing happening other than those cones creating a new third lane that no one was driving on, and only went about 20 feet. Well, that's not entirely true.
On each side of the road was a guy holding a double sided sign. One side says slow, and one says stop. In normal situations, when there is only one lane and traffic must take turns using it, the two guys with the signs are placed on opposite ends of the one lane and turn their signs to keep traffic flowing safely. When one guy's sign says STOP, the other, facing opposite traffic, says SLOW.
But not today. Today, there was room for two lanes of dual directional traffic, just each was squeezed over a bit. These guys were literally standing there, each holding his sign saying SLOW to face his oncoming traffic. There was not a truck, shovel, or other person working or even drinking coffee in sight.
Granted it was a nice day, but when they go home at night and think back on their day, what do they think about what they accomplished today?
The whole thing was just bizarre.
As I descended a hill, I saw that half of my lane and half the lane of oncoming traffic was cut off by red traffic cones. So all traffic needed to move to the right of their respective lanes. No problem. Except there was nothing happening other than those cones creating a new third lane that no one was driving on, and only went about 20 feet. Well, that's not entirely true.
On each side of the road was a guy holding a double sided sign. One side says slow, and one says stop. In normal situations, when there is only one lane and traffic must take turns using it, the two guys with the signs are placed on opposite ends of the one lane and turn their signs to keep traffic flowing safely. When one guy's sign says STOP, the other, facing opposite traffic, says SLOW.
But not today. Today, there was room for two lanes of dual directional traffic, just each was squeezed over a bit. These guys were literally standing there, each holding his sign saying SLOW to face his oncoming traffic. There was not a truck, shovel, or other person working or even drinking coffee in sight.
Granted it was a nice day, but when they go home at night and think back on their day, what do they think about what they accomplished today?
The whole thing was just bizarre.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Heavy is the Head...
There's a new rallying cry for the GOP. Once again they choose to focus on petty things that really just inflame the one-toothed-gun-hoarding-Obama-born -in Kenya-believing- Rush Limbaugh -worshiping crowd. At the end of the nuclear summit President Obama said:
"It is a vital national security interest of the United States to reduce these conflicts because whether we like it or not, we remain a dominant military superpower, and when conflicts break out, one way or another we get pulled into them," Obama said. "And that ends up costing us significantly in terms of both blood and treasure."
Why would anyone argue that "like it or not" is in anyway anything but the truth? Don't you want to live in a country where we know and understand our obligation, but also understand the cost, as he says, both in lives and taxes? Do we want to live in a cowboy-Rambo society where we rush into conflict because we like the sounds of bombs, or the posturing that comes with it?
There are plenty of real issues with this administration's policies and viewpoints, both foreign and domestic, economic, social and military. This need not be one of them. The GOP deserves what it gets (though the country does not)for mindless pandering to the ridiculous (Sarah Palin, when will you go away?), instead of spending the time to find actual candidates and issues the whole country will want to rally around.
Why don't they trust their agenda and policies enough?
"It is a vital national security interest of the United States to reduce these conflicts because whether we like it or not, we remain a dominant military superpower, and when conflicts break out, one way or another we get pulled into them," Obama said. "And that ends up costing us significantly in terms of both blood and treasure."
Why would anyone argue that "like it or not" is in anyway anything but the truth? Don't you want to live in a country where we know and understand our obligation, but also understand the cost, as he says, both in lives and taxes? Do we want to live in a cowboy-Rambo society where we rush into conflict because we like the sounds of bombs, or the posturing that comes with it?
There are plenty of real issues with this administration's policies and viewpoints, both foreign and domestic, economic, social and military. This need not be one of them. The GOP deserves what it gets (though the country does not)for mindless pandering to the ridiculous (Sarah Palin, when will you go away?), instead of spending the time to find actual candidates and issues the whole country will want to rally around.
Why don't they trust their agenda and policies enough?
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