Tuesday Twitter Questions 012324

 Maybe it's X. Maybe it's the Muskaverse.  Maybe it's Maybelline.

I don't know.

Anyhoo, this is that occasional blog feature where I try to answer the first five questions posters ask on my Twitter/X/Muskrat feed.

1) What was your last research read?

Well, I really don't have to research much of anything. I'm retired. I don't do papers or non-fiction.

Sometimes, I have to look up (ha! - I mean GOOGLE) stuff to clarify my blog stories. Like the last blog story about the Detroit Lions, I looked up (GOOGLED) their playoff history (it could fit on a postcard).

I've had to research accounting, tax, and payroll information/procedures in my role as Treasurer of the church. I've vowed to eliminate any contact with accounting, but somehow, Church Treasurer got grandfathered in.

I read about history a lot, but that's just for me. Currently, I'm watching from Kanopy (a library-associated streaming service), a series of talks about the everyday person's life in different ancient cultures.

2) What sides would you add with beef short ribs?

I haven't had beef short ribs in a very long time. I love them, but they are not something we normally find or prepare.

My thoughts initially turn to corn on the cob. Also maybe a salad.

3) What's a good side dish for lasagna?

Man. I'm on a streak of foodie questions! Alison makes the best lasagna on the face of the earth. I never order it when we go out because it will never be as good as hers.

The only side needed is garlic bread with sprinkled parmesan.

4) What is the saddest death of a fictional character?

The death of Buffy's Mom on Buffy the Vampire Slayer. It just came out of nowhere. For a fantasy/horror-themed show, it was just so shockingly real.

5) name a movie character who was perfectly cast

I don't know if I could come up with better than the character that was in the picture of this post -

Harrison Ford as Indiana Jones.

Hidden Gems Wednesday Wanderings

This is not Teddy, Thurston Howell's teddy bear on Gilligan's Island.  As far as I know, Teddy is still on the island. Thurston remembered to take his white pants and an ascot home, but he left poor old Teddy behind. 

This is Bobby Bear.  He has been a companion of mine for many years.  He wears a leather jacket and sports a Bobby Kennedy for President button. I have many political campaign buttons, but this is the one that Bobby likes to wear because he is a bear of excellent refinement and discernment. 

American history was irrevocably altered by the assassination of Robert Kennedy.  And not in a good way. I'll save more discussion of that for my political posts.

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Yesterday was our 25th wedding anniversary!  Yes, Alison and I have been married for 25 years! She is amazing, and I feel like the luckiest son of a B on the planet!  

We were going to go out last Saturday to St. Simons (where we had our honeymoon), but the rains were constant, and we 1) didn't want to leave alone our increasingly neurotic 13-year-old Cocoa Bear and 2) we didn't want to walk around all day in the rain.

That left us with our intensely romantic anniversary day plans - his and her annual eye exam appointments.

Both of us needed our prescriptions adjusted, so both of us are getting new glasses.  For Alison, she wanted to change up and make a different fashion statement.  Me?  Just get me what I had and git-er-done.

They did say two words to me that got me mildly shook up - EARLY CATARACTS.  Another little hint that I am aging.  The eye doctor indicated that it was pretty common.  Will I need cataract surgery someday?  He thought so.  When will I need it?  He wasn't sure.  Three years from now? Ten years from now?  Who knows?

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The biggest thing I notice in my vision is that I need more light to read by, and driving at night is more of a challenge than it used to be.

Hopefully, not having to read tiny, scribbled numbers and words from a multitude of accounting clients will help ease my eye strain.

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Wait.  Why did I call this Hidden Gems?

Oh, yes.  In addition to the eye exams, we, on impulse, went to St. Simons!  On our anniversary!  Woohoo!  

We debated many of our traditional favorites - The Crab Trap, Barbara Jeans, Tramici.  We felt like Italian but felt like something less fancy than Tramici (it's good, but it likes to stick less common ingredients into their dishes and to downplay the major function of American/Italian food - CHEESE). Finally, we chose a place we had never been to before - Sal's Pizzeria.

Well, even with GPS, it was a buggeraboo to find.  It was on a part of the island we had not been to much, and we circled a block several times to find it hidden in an alley slightly off the back of a street.

It was fantastico!  They believed in large servings (we got plenty left to take home) and in the power of CHEESE. Alison had Lobster Ravioli, and I had Chicken Parmiagana that was floating in a sea of CHEESE.

It was worth the effort to find and a wonderful anniversary dinner.  I can't show you pictures of the meal, because I didn't take any.  Honestly, I never take pictures of my meals to post on social media.  I just don't do that sort of thing.  If you want to do that, that's fine. To each his own.  I don't want to.

Ok. Well.  The truth is I'm eating it before I even think about taking a picture of it.

Wanderingly Yours,

T. M. Strait

Good Cookies!

Our church, Grace Episcopal, recently held a cookie decorating taught by the talented Papani Saini.

Our family participated. It overwhelming shows where the artistic talents lie.

Spoiler Alert:

It is not with me.

Tom's Cookies

I got an A for creativity and a D- for execution.  OK, it'd not do much creativity as I didn't follow the rules.  Patrick was actually supposed to be a kaleidoscope of colors, as you'll see from Alison and Benjamin.  

USA is supposed to be a red state/blue state division based on the 2020 election. So I had a blue dot in Nebraska and a red dot in Maine.  I also tried to show Georgia as a sea of blue in an ocean of red.

Alison's Cookies

Here’s the cookies Alison decorated as part of Grace’s cookie decorating class. She received much higher grades than I did. And deservedly so!

Benjamin's Cookies

 From the cookie decorating class, these are the cookies my son Benjamin done did. You will see these cookies no more. He done et them all.

He did not keep Hope alive.

Apple Crisp: Recipe From the Strait Family Vaults 2

A Recipe from the Strait Family Vaults

Apple Crisp

There are many recipes to make Apple Crisp.  This is the one my mother used.  It puts the emphasis on crisp over apples.  To me, this is as God intended.  As cake is a frosting delivery system, so is this desert to crisp.

I don’t think we’ve ever prepared this for a church luncheon.  This probably claims to make a dozen or more serving, but the way we eat it, it is about six.  So, if we were to make it for church, we would probably have to quadruple the recipe.

It tastes best when served warm with vanilla ice cream.

I guess I better start with the recipe.

Ingredients:

4 cups sliced apples

1 tsp cinnamon

1 tsp salt

1/3 cup water

3/4 cup flour

1 cup sugar

1/3 cup butter

Place sliced apples onto buttered 10x6x2 baking dish (I think other sizes are okay – use your own judgment), sprinkling in the cinnamon, salt & water.  In a separate bowl, rub (? – that’s my mom’s word – just mix/blend/maybe knead) flour, sugar & butter – then drop this mixture over the apples.  Make noises like an airplane dropping bombs (okay, maybe that’s just me).

Bake at 350 degrees for forty minutes.

Feel free to adjust ingredients to personal taste.  Add more apples or more cinnamon or salt.  I wouldn’t add more sugar – this is already way past the diabetic threshold. Throw nuts in there, although I don’t know why people want to do that.  Walnuts seem to be a favorite addition for some, but I don’t digest walnuts well, and Benjamin is allergic.  So, at least for this recipe, we are a no nuts family.

Texas Sheet Cake: Recipe from the Strait Vaults 1

A Recipe from the Strait Family Vaults

Texas Sheet Cake

My mother was born in Texas.  This is the only thing about Texas I know about my mother.  She left when she was three.  Her father was a welder on the Eastern Panhandle pipeline, and they moved farther north every few years as the pipeline was built.

We have prepared this a few times for church luncheons.  It does not last long.  The most recent time it was made was by Benjamin, who made it for Mother’s Day.

I guess I better start with the recipe.

Bring to boil:

2  sticks butter or margarine

1 cup water

4 tbls cocoa

Add to the above the following:

2 cups sugar

½ tsp salt

2 cups flour

Mix well  -  then add:

2 eggs

1/2 cup sour cream

1 tsp soda

Beat well and pour into well-greased pan (9x13) and bake at 375 degrees.

While cake is baking  (oh, joy! Multitasking), make frosting.

Frosting:

½ cup butter or margarine

4 tbls cocoa

6 tbls milk

4 cups powdered sugar

1 tsp vanilla

Optional – 1 cup chopped nuts

Heat on stove until butter is melted – bring to a hard boil -  remove from heat and add powdered sugar and vanilla.

Pour onto warm cake and sprinkle with chopped nuts (we use pecans).

Benjamin is allergic to nuts, so we do not put pecans on about half the cake or more.  Honestly. I prefer it without the pecans.  But what do I know?  Feel free to add your own toppings.  Heck, try it with sprinkles if you want.

The Face of Waycross

I came here knowing no one, except a few of Alison's relatives.  I came here a stranger.

And then I met Paul Tang. 

On one of our first visits here, while we were still living in North Georgia, Alison, who was a Blackshear native, encouraged me to try out this Chinese restaurant she had grown to love.  It was hard for me to understand everything she was trying to tell me. Was it the food? The atmosphere?  The service?

It did not take me long to realize that it was Paul Tang.  This gregarious man greeted me like a long lost brother.  He shook my hand and talked about how wonderful Alison was.  I felt immediately accepted, and it made me feel so much better about this area. 

Alison's father, Johnny Aldridge, did the printing for Paul Tang's restaurant, Wong's Palace.  Alison had been eating there since she was a  small child.  Paul affectionately called Alison's father, Mr. Rich.  Was it because of the lucrative printing contract?  Probably not.  It most likely came from a re-interpretation of the name - Johnny Aldridge...Ald Ridge...All Rich.  Alison's father has a great sense of humor, and they would cut up a lot.

When Alison came back to Blackshear to get married, it was a no-brainer.  Our first stop after the wedding was to go to Wong's.  What better way to give you the most luck and love than to start your new life together at Wong's?

Within six months of getting married, we found an opportunity to move to Blackshear.  It was a risk, but knowing Paul Tang helped me make my decision.

We first worked together in the Bowen Building in Waycross.  And we would go to Wong's at least once a week.  I was determined to explore the whole menu, trying in order each combination.  And here was one of the great things about Wong's.  Once you know the menu and what you like, you could customize anything to your tastes.  Ask them if you could change things up, and the answer would always be, "No problem!  We can do it!"

My older boys would visit me sometimes, and we would always fit in a trip to Wong's.  And even though Paul would only see my older boys once a year or less, he always remembered who they were.  He knew their names, and asked follow-ups on the last conversation he had with them!

And when my son Benjamin came into our lives, he greeted and treated Benjamin as if he were his own son.  Benjamin loved Paul.  If you ask Benjamin where he wants to go to eat, he will always bring up Wong's. 

When we sold our little starter home on Church Street in Blackshear, we sold to a Chinese family who was operating Panda Restaurant in Blackshear.  They did not speak English, and communication was difficult.  Paul was kind enough to sit in our closing and help translate.  He made it so much easier for both families involved in the sale. He did not consider them competitors.  He considered it a service to his friends and his community.

When we travel, we often stop at different restaurants - Mexican, Italian, BarBQ, American, Greek, Thai.  But we do not stop at Chinese restaurants.  Because we know they will always disappoint compared to Wong's.  For my family, there is only one place - Wong's Palace.

Paul had been struggling with illness the last few years.  Many times he seemed to be winning, that he had beaten it back.  But recently he lost that battle.

No, he was not an intimate friend.  I knew him like many others as the smiling face of Waycross.  He meant the world to me, to my family, to many of us who live here.

He will always live on to me as the true face of Waycross.  He opened his arms and welcomed me in.  As he did for so many of us.

Benjamin will be home for Christmas break.  He will want to go to Wong's.  It will be hard on him that Paul is not there.  But I know how Benjamin thinks.  Paul's physical body may not be there, but his spirit will dwell there forever.  And not just at Wong's, but all around this area.  He lives on each of us whose lives have been touched by him.

We will go there with Benjamin.

And we will lift our sweet teas in his honor.

Petty Peeves: We Don't Have That

I try to be a good customer.  I really do.

I know how tough service work is and how rude some customers can be.  We've all heard the horror stories.  We've all witnessed bad behavior.

I hate the word "triggered."  It's used often to depict those who get upset if they're political or social world view is challenged.  Nevertheless, it's semi-appropriate for my transformation from good customer to bad customer when this certain thing happens.

And what is that certain thing?

When I ask for an item that is on the menu board at a fast-food restaurant, and the clerk looks blank-eyed and bored, and says, "We don't have that." And they say it in a way that makes you feel like a fool for even asking.

But me?  I don't move on. I should just let it go, but my transformation begins.

Me:  (pointing to the menu board) But it's right up there.

Clerk:  We don't have it.

Me: Shouldn't you cross it off the board?

Clerk:  That's not my job.

Me:  Well, I would like to ask for something different, but I'm sort of scared as to whether you have it or not.

Clerk:  (says nothing.  just looks blankly.  when is this fool gonna finish?)

Me:  (makes another selection, which they must have because the clerk silently adds it to total).

Clerk:  $7.93.

Me:  (quietly raging) Thank you.

Yep.  That's me in fierce bad customer mode.  I thank her again.  I thank the person who hands me the completed order.  I go home and vent to Alison later.


Usually, I'm good.  At a sit-down restaurant, even when service is not so hot, I still tip between 15 to 20%.  The job's not easy.  People have a hard day.  I understand.


But something flips in my head when I'm told blank-eyed like they're talking to a wall, "We don't have that."

Would it be so hard to say, "I'm sorry.  We're temporarily out of that item. May I recommend something else, like our fine Mac 'n' Chips?"

Maybe it doesn't have to be that obsequious. But there has to be something more polite than sneering, "We don't have that."

Don't get me wrong.  It can go too far the other way.  The Stepford Wife-like cheeriness I often run across at Chick-fil-A can be disturbing in its own way.  Sometimes it seems sincere.  Other times it seems forced.

Really.  I'm s better customer than that.  It's just the darn triggering when I hear that cold, uncaring phrase, "We don't have that."

Oh, well.  Luckily, I don't have all that many petty peeves.

Although concerning words that make my skin crawl, we may soon have to discuss "hydrate," which for some reason, is beginning to bother me more and more.

People are strange.

Well, at least I am.

The Selfie Master's Monday Musings

Oh, yeah!

Ain't nobody can do selfies the way I can do selfies.

It was our annual trip to watch our favorite team, Atlanta United, at Mercedes Benz Stadium (don't get me started about how disgusted I am to have stadiums named after corporations - I'm just going to overlook it this time).

It was a great game, although it took the full ninety minutes for United to kick it into high gear, finally winning 3 - 1.  Our star player, Josef Martinez, was hurt, and we await word on the extent of his injury but are praying for the best outcome.

The best thing about Atlanta United games is that it is not just a game, it's like being invited to a big party.  A large, diverse crowd, watches a diverse group of talented players engage in non-stop action from beginning to end.  We are on our feet, virtually the entire game.  There are no breaks in the action, no commercials, just movement, and excitement.

We started the weekend by picking up Benjamin from Georgia College.  I can't begin to tell you enough good things about how well Benjamin fits into college there.  Multiple organizations, achieving in his classes, many friends, loving the dorm and the Maxx (college cafeteria).  Alison and I couldn't be prouder of him. 

We spent time with Doug & Paige.  They are working hard at a sustainable home.  They have solar panels and an extensive home garden.  They have bees for honey, and chickens for eggs, and bunnies for...uh...poop (fertilizer) and hair (clothing?).  All this in a suburban Atlanta neighborhood.

The food was awesome over the weekend, including greek food from Milledgeville's Metropolitan Cafe, and burgers/sandwiches.salads from Brookhaven's best burger place, Lucky Dog.  But the best was delicious homemade meals from Paige, including pancakes, banana muffins, and three different kinds of calzone!

We also got to a new antique mall, where I picked up nine new record albums (new to me), from great artists including Linda Ronstadt, Loretta Lynn, Dolly Parton, and Olivia Newton-John!  The mall was fun but somewhat spoiled by a prominent rack of Trump 2020 hats.  I wanted to ask when they would be getting in the Warren 2020 hats, but alas, I lacked courage.

Our bestiary was well-covered, thanks to our friend, Trent Dixon, coming in and watching our pets for us.  He did an excellent job, and we much appreciate it!  It helped ensure that our trip away was stress-free for our dogs.  Our kitty, Skitty, barely noticed.

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Now I'm back, and I am taking advantage of my semi-retired status and staying home.  I have to re-review lines from the play (starting Double Hell weeks with a rehearsal almost every night for the next two weeks - performances begin on Thursday, October 3rd!).

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With so much good news, don't get me started on the Wolverines. Michigan is not mighty this year.  Maybe they'll improve as the year progresses, but right now?  They look terrible.  Rutgers might be a challenge.

I miss Brady Hoke.  There.  I said it.

Seriously, I have no idea where Michigan goes from here.

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Yeah.  As usual, there are a lot of terrible things going on with Trump.  Encouraging foreign interference in our election?  "Oops!  I did it again!"

Alison, ready to watch her favorite team!

Go United!

Party Cracker! Party Party Cracker!

Party Cracker!

Party Party Cracker!

Come on ovuh my house!

It's not just a cracker - it's a party!

I was all set for a typical weekend, me and Bob and a dog named Boo, when I see these jewels of the condiment kingdom hidden in the back of the pantry.

Where do they come from?

I don't know.

Do I remember ever acquiring them?  Did I see them in the store and explode with joy - That's what I need!  That's the item than can turn an ordinary party into

The Party of the Ages!

But could I make this more special?  What could take this TEN and dial it up to ELEVEN?

Pub Cheese!

And not just any Pub Cheese...

President Pub Cheese!

If you're going to Pub it, you might as well go for the Pub Cheese in Chief!  (Any similarities to the current Orange Cheeto in charge is purely coincidental).

Wait!  What?  I don't got no Pub Cheese!

Sorry, Party Crackers.

Party is delayed as I go on a quest for...

President Pub Cheese!

Huh?  What? Alison just shook me awake.

What the heck did I write?  How did that happen?

Man, I musta had Scrooge level indigestion last night.

Staring Into the Daniel Den

Alison, along with some other church members,  will be starting the Daniel Fast on Labor Day.  This will run until September 21st. I believe.

I think the bible's Daniel did this in the old testament.  How much of it was a deliberate fast, and how much was - well, this is what I got available to eat - I'm not sure?  Obviously, I have not researched the specifics.  I know Daniel went into the Lion's Den - maybe he survived because he smelled too much like vegetables and fruits.  "Hmmm, delicious meat!  Wait!  This smells like broccoli and kale!  Blecch!"

So maybe the fast is to help spare you from lions.  But probably not.

I can't comprehensively tell you what's in the diet or not.  It strikes me as kind of vegan-y.  Nothing from animals, everything plant-based.  The bread must be unleavened and whole-grain - I think that means no biscuits.  And like most modern diets/fasts, anything sweet is the ultimate evil.

Am I going to do this?

Maybe a little.  Alison and I share many meals, and I sure want to cooperate and help her where I can.  Most of the vegetables and fruits sound okay to me.  I like plant-based meat substitutes (except tofu).  I can find whole-grain unleavened things (tortilla chips as an example).  But there is one thing I cannot do without.


Cheese.

I love cheese.  Cheese on most everything.  Can I eat a veggie burger?  Yes!  Can I do it without cheese?  Noooo!

This morning, I'm going to have cheese grits. Can I eat grits without cheese?  No.  No, I can't.

Later, I'll have a Mexican Quesadilla.  Will it have cheese?  You bet it will!  And ketchup - but that's a whole separate thing.

I don't know all the theological themes about why the Daniel Fast exists.  But I'm hoping I can live up to the general spirit without giving up cheese.

Maybe I'll give up cheese for Lent.

Nah, that ain't happening either.

Weekend in Jesup

This weekend featured a trip to Jesup, a town about thirty miles away from us.  It's bigger than Blackshear but similar in size to Waycross.  We go there only rarely.  It's a charming town with a robust downtown, but we don't often have a reason to go there. 

Saturday we had a reason.  The Wayne County Arts Council invited me to present a reading from my books, and being the hamwich that I am, I couldn't resist.

It was a fun, positive experience.  No, it did not have world-beater crowds.  But those who were there seemed to enjoy it, and it was a great variety of local talents, including some extraordinary authors.  I read from Here Comes Tommy and Crowley Stories.  Not to brag, but they were well-received.  If I am unsure of some of my abilities, that uncertainty does not include my ability to read aloud.

I wasn't sure what to read from Crowley Stories.  I practiced the two-page introduction of Crowley Stories and found myself a bit overwhelmed.  Sometimes I reread something I wrote years ago, and I am horrified by the mistakes I find that I had not previously caught, or the reading flow is not as sharp as I expected.

Not so with the introduction of Croley Stories, Good Morning Bright Crowley Sun.  It held up, so much so, it almost took me to my knees, and I had hard keeping my emotions in check while I read it.

One of my decisions not to try agents with Crowley Stories was that this brief intro has a very long run-on sentence at the heart of it.  That was a stupid decision.  Having read it aloud for the first time, to me, it sang beautifully, a hymn as to what's to come in the Crowley Stories.  My inability to promote this excellent book is one of the biggest failures of my life.  That and not moving back to Michigan in 2016 and convince 11,000 Michiganders not to vote for racist Donald Trump.

We also discovered a great new restaurant in Jesup, One Love, with 'island" food, which I believe is Carribean,   Alison had some jerk chicken, and I had island pork with guava BBQ sauce.  The sides were delicious as well, and I had a custom made fruit punch that was out of this world.   Now Alison is busy trying to come up with reasons to go to Jesup!

They have a TV facility at the Wayne County Arts Council, so some of what we did may be on TV there, or even on YouTube.  If I hear more about it, I'll let you know!

The Temple of Chick-fil-A

I like Chick-fil-A.

Their chicken sandwich is the best chicken sandwich in the fast food world - by far. None can compare.  None others do I crave.

The first time I had a Chick-fil-A chicken sandwich was when I worked in downtown Atlanta in the late eighties.  They had a location in the Omni.  My first impression was not positive.  I prefer dark meat to white, and it looked terribly dry.  Like it or not, I'm a condiment guy, and I did not like how you had to beg for two little packs of ketchup (to be shared for sandwich and fries alike).  Not my favorite - a dried up gag-in-your throat piece of white meat.  Nevertheless, it was better than I anticipated.

Over the years, with better access to ketchup, the flavor grew on me, to the point that I now crave it.

Their service is above par for a fast food restaurant.  The staff is friendly and accommodating.  They are paid and treated better, at least within the standards of the industry.  Some of their employees can earn towards scholarships.

I like Chick-fil-A.

But I don't worship Chick-fil-A.

It's a good restaurant.  It has some tasty items.  But I don't talk about it in the reverent tones that some around me do.

I think you can be a "Christian restaurant"  without being a restaurant designed to primarily to appeal to the Christian right.  So, some of the stuff seems a little forced and over the top to me.

They have every right to close on any day that they want.  Hopefully, they recognize that not everyone's Holy Day is Sunday.  Not even for every Christian (Seventh Day Adventists, for example).  I do confess, the psychological effect for me is that much of my craving for a Chick-fil-A sandwich occurs on Sunday.  And they are a primary vendor at Mercedes Benz Stadium in Atlanta, where most of the games occur on...Sunday.

Yes, they still discriminate in their charity spending, favoring Christian right groups, including those that promote discrimination of the LGBTQ community.

The franchising of their restaurants is done with a system designed to favor Christian right applicants, and weed out those that may not be sufficiently inclined that way.

I can't speak to their employee hiring practices, although it can't be pleasant for those who stand outside the Christian right norm.

Most often, their friendliness seems sincere, but occasionally it comes across as Stepford Wife-ish.  Or Handmaid's Tale-ish.  "Blessed be the fruit!"

Their pay is on the upside of the industry, but they are not industry leaders.  Other chains like In-N-Out Burger or Shake Shack do better (Chick-fil-A is usually not number one on most lists, but it almost always appears in the top ten).  No chain pays a living wage, and that is a huge problem in this country.

So, to me, Chick-fil-A is a good restaurant.  Not perfect, but what is in this world?

It is certainly not a temple of worship.  God is present there only in the sense that God is present everywhere,

I go there to get a great chicken sandwich, not to be enveloped into a Christian restaurant, along with Christian radio stations, Christain movies, Christian craft stores - just to name a few.

God is everywhere and in everything.  God does not need an exclusivity zone.

They do need to make sure they have plenty of ketchup, though.

Sometimes You Feel Like a Favorite Nut

So on Facebook, I asked: What's your favorite nut?


Always dangerous to ask anything on social media.  You're never quite sure what kind of answer you'll get back.  The most frequent response to the question was me.  Their most favorite nut was me.

Those who did answer with a nut you can eat, cashews may have edged the others out.  But it varied quite a bit, which is good news for the nut industry.

For those who get mixed nuts, there are always one or two that are not favored children.  Alison will leave the Brazil nuts.  I think she thinks they taste like dirt.  Benjamin won't eat them at all - he's allergic (childhood allergy that is now mild discomfort, not OH MY GOD WHERE'S THE EPIPEN!).

Me?  At the risk of sounding blase and common, my favorite is the lowly peanut.  Roasted, salted, plain or honey roasted - I love them all.  Except maybe boiled - I can eat it, but it's not as good as dry roasted.  They're also pretty good stuffed into the middle of an M & M, or the exquisite treat of chocolate peanut clusters. My favorite ice cream is Tin Roof Sundae - vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce and peanuts.

In order, my next favorites are:  cashews, pistachios, and almonds.

There are a group of nuts that I'm not highly fond of, but I can eat.  They include:  Brazil nuts, hazelnuts, and pecans.  Yes, I said it.  Pecans  I can put up with, but I don't really crave or enjoy them.  That's a hard thing to admit living here in pecan country.  Alison likes them, so we do have them now and again.  They are easy to find, and we usually have friends who give us pounds of them.

And there is one nut that I can't stand.  It is the walnut.  I don't like the taste of it, and it gives me terrible heartburn.  The most frustrating thing about the walnut is how most commercial maple ice creams come with walnuts,  I LOVE maple ice cream, but I can't stand walnuts.  It is so sad.  I wish they would just leave them out of maple ice cream.

The very best home-churned ice cream is maple.  As a child, the best part of Strait family reunions was the ice cream churning party, and my favorite was homemade maple because they made it without the dreaded walnuts.  All this reminds me that I may need to reinvest in an ice cream churn.


So there is my review of the nuts I love, tolerate and the one I can't stand.

All our lists are different, I would wager.  That's good for the nut industry.

We're all just a bunch of mixed nuts.

Blanketed with School Lunches

School lunches.  What a love/hate relationship that was.

My mother did not prepare a lunch for us to take.  And no, it did not occur to us to prepare one ourselves. So we always relied on school lunches.

Sometimes they were real challenges.   There was chipped beef over toast, which we called something else, fill-in-the-blank on a shingle.  There was goulash. ground beef with macaroni, sprinkled with some red substance that passed for tomato sauce.  There was a runny chocolate pudding that we called diarrhea pudding.  And there was the unknown block that we could only call mystery meat.

But not all was bad.  They would sometimes serve pizza.  You could get chocolate milk extra for the exorbitant price of 3 cents. And there was my favorite, pigs in a blanket, little hot dogs wrapped in a crescent roll.  I fully believed they were the hors-d'oeuvre of the gods.  The ultimate deliciousness that could be dunked in ketchup or mustard, or even both swirled together.  I must be a connoisseur, to have so much admiration and love for such a delicacy!

In college, I lived in a dorm for four years.  So I had plenty of time to sample university cafeteria food.  Meal plans were dramatically different than like when my son Doug went to college.  They had choices galore, every day a smorgasbord. Not so when I went to college.  There was Choice A or B, and if you didn't like either, well too bad so sad, better luck next meal.

There was a tendency to put a slice of pineapple on something and call it Hawaiian. Thus we often had such classics as Hawaiian Chicken, or Hawaiian Swiss Steak (yes, a delicious entree that would cause us to break out yodeling Aloha!).

The ladies that would serve us were bolder than their elementary and high school counterparts.  On days when chicken was served, they would leer at the guys and ask, "Are you a thigh man or a breast man?"  Yes, it was a different time and place.

There were few choices to make.  They did have soft serve ice cream in a serve-yourself machine.  Most of the time, there were toppings you could add, like sprinkles or chocolate sauce.  One time I got some soft serve vanilla, and then realized there had been no toppings set out.  I saw the only other option, a machine dispensing some Velveeta style cheese.  So in a fit of culinary ignorance, I poured it onto my soft serve ice cream.  Needless to say, the combination didn't work, although due to my slow reflexes, it took several bites before the horror fully sunk in,  The taste still haunts me to this day.  Even when I go to an ice cream parlor, and they offer a flavor like strawberry cheesecake,  just the suggestion of cheese in the title is enough to make me gag and turn away.

I have stepped out of the shadows of institutional lunches.  I still don't prepare my own lunch, most often just skipping the meal, or snacking.  I have come to have a better appreciation for school meals, as my wife, Alison, works in the school nutrition department.  I have seen them strive mightily to provide balanced, nutritional meals.  Benjamin has enjoyed breakfast and lunch there most of his school career.

I checked with Alison and they don't serve pigs in a blanket.  Well, probably not a very sound nutritional choice. Nevertheless, they have many fine, delicious items designed to be nutritional and tasty.  I applaud them for everything they do.

Of course, chocolate milk is now 50 cents.  Still cheaper than at a store or restaurant.  And just as refreshing and satisfying.

In Search of the Middle

HIGH ITALIAN

You would think that with a denomination as small as The Episcopalians (just under 2 million), that there would not be much division within.  But, not including the social issue disputes, there are different approaches to worship styles, partly due to the church's Anglican roots, which connects to both the Catholic faith, and Protestants.  Thus, the terms "high church" and "low church".

High Church refers to a more ritualistic, structured form of service, one that very closely follow the Catholic Church.  They use an older Book of Common Prayer (1928 edition), and the priests may be more dressed up and slightly more distant.  Low Church is little more Protestant in nature, with more flexibility in service structure, a more modern prayer book, less pomp, and reverends a bit more accessible.

The faith and message is the same.  The variation is only in how the service is conducted.  It's all good.  Offering alternative styles just brings more of God's children to the table.  I find the worship style that I like best is a blending of the two, and I am grateful to have a parish where that is so.

This high and low concept can be applied to other things.  It is not an aspersion or a negative, but merely a description as to structure and aiming at different tastes. And so this is how I've come to think of Italian restaurants (wow!  I betcha didn't think that's where I was going with this!).

I love Italian restaurant, all kinds, but they do have their differences.

High Italian are the fanciest ones, where reservations may be required, and wine is very prominent (the wine list may be longer than the entree list).  There is more ambiance, with pretty tablecloths, attentive waiters, and romantic music. The dishes are more sophisticated, and more true to Mediterranean culture.  The use of cheese is not as extensive as with other types of Italian restaurants.  This kinda dampens my enthusiasm, as I am a certified cheeseaholic.

Low Italian focuses almost entirely on pizza, although there  may be a few other choices.  Emphasis is on take out and delivery, and there is none or very little seating at the actual location.  The  food served can range from the extraordinary to the banal.  They are focused on speed and accuracy.  

But wait!  There's more!  There are finer gradations than just low and high! 

High middle Italian. has slightly less ambiance than high, and with a more American view of Italian food.  There may be a take out element, but most of it is still served at the restaurant.  They try to turn over the traffic at a quicker rate.  There may be wine, but it's not the focus.  One chain of this style of restaurants specializes in all you can eat salad and bread sticks. 

Low middle Italian still centers on pizza, but the variety is a bit wider.  There is take out and delivery, but there are also places to sit in the restaurant.  Many of these type of restaurants feature a buffet, with a constant stream of new pizzas being set out. I love these buffets, but they are not good for my figure, nor do they reflect well on my maturity.  Three hours after coming in, I am wheeled out with unbuttoned pants, and in a semi-catatonic state.

But, like church, what I like best is the middle.  They have pizza and calzones and Strombolis, pastas and sandwiches, cheese-sticks and  desserts.  Take out and delivery exist, but they also have a lively in-house trade. Prices are not dirt-cheap, but they are relationally affordable  compared to other mid-range restaurants. Like me, they believe in the power of cheese.  When we visit other areas, I search them out, using google-powered radar.

Where I live, sadly, had, until recently, been bereft of middle Italian.  Some places struggled with it, but didn't quite hit the mark.  Happily, all that's changed! A new middle Italian place has opened up near me! We are still exploring the menu, figuring out the best things to order.  And believe me, there is a lot of fun in the exploration!

I will be there as often as my budget and family allow.

Here's to the middle!  Fantastico!

Banned from the Buffet

I should be banned from buffets.  I'm not sure I'm mature enough to handle them. Whatever food cutoff valve I'm supposed to have, gets disconnected, and I don't stop until it's way too late.

We recently went to a buffet that specialized in pizza.  My son was back from a week at camp, Father's Day was approaching, and we thought it was a good way to celebrate.  The food was good, with a plethora of specialty pizzas being set out, new ones every few minutes.

I would get the slices I wanted, a relatively tame two or three pieces, when they would announce a new kind of pizza being set out.  Well, there was no way I was not going to try the new one.  That would be rude not to try it.  And then, just when you thought you were sated, they would set out the pizza of your dreams, the perfect combination of toppings, sauce and crust.  And this could go on for hours - the new wonders just wouldn't stop.

For dessert, one of  my greatest human weaknesses was set out, iced cinnamon rolls.  I'm not proud.  I lost count of how many I had.

I have been doing much better with diet and exercise recently, losing weight and improving my blood pressure.  In one fell swoop, I had consumed about as many calories as I had in a week.

I am not alone in my irresponsible indulgence at buffets.  My Dad had a similar problem.  The first buffet I remember the family going to was at a restaurant in Northern Michigan, when I was only about ten.  It was so long ago, that where we went was called not a buffet, but a smorgasbord, and it featured Scandinavian foods.

My father had a farming background, in a very frugal family, and he was a charter member of the "Clean Your Plate" club.  He always strived to eat everything set before him.  Well, he didn't know how to handle a smorgasbord. How could you eat everything when they had set out so much?

Finally, after much consumption, I went back to the restroom with my Dad, where he upchucked his entire meal.  He was not a heavy set man, and was prone to healthy eating but not over-eating, but he had simply lost his mind at the smorgasbord.  After he cleared out his smogasbordic contents, he was in a different frame of mind than the rest of us, moaning in discomfort over our overindulgence. Imagine how we felt upon leaving the restaurant, and my Dad asking as we piled in the car, "Hey! Who's up for ice cream?"

Like father, like son.  Minus the barfing part.  Mine just turns into another layer of fat.

I should be banned from the buffet.  Whenever I forget, Alison just needs to remind me, "Are you sure?  Do you remember what happened last time?"

I do.  I remember the pain. I remember the weight gain.

And then I remember the cinnamon rolls.

Wonder-full Weekend Monday Musings

It's true.

Diet wise, this was not a wonderful weekend.  But everything else was.

We had a wonderful day on Friday.  We celebrated by a trip to Chamblin Bookmine in Jacksonville.  It's a huge used bookstore that is almost cave like in it's meandering stacks of books and little nooks and crannies.  You can get lost in there, and to me, that's the highest praise one can give a bookstore. Our haul was about as much as we had ever gotten there, with the whole family indulging.

We went to see Wonder Woman, at a 3D XD screen, with stadium seating and reclining lounge seats. It was a great experience, but it wasn't as wonderful as the movie we watched.  Wonder Woman was one of those rare pitch perfect introductions to a character, one that took the best interpretations of a super heroine that had been written about for 75 years.  I loved not only the interpretation of Wonder Woman, but also the World War One setting.  The actress did so much to make Wonder Woman a flesh and blood character that we could love, admire and appreciate, that I feel it is going to be criminal when this film is completely ignored at the Oscars.  Gal Gadot and the Director, Patty Jenkins, deserve Oscars.  They will not get them.

Then we ate at The Cheesecake Factory.  I did not see Sheldon.  I got something called Chicken Parmigiana Pizza Style.  I did not realize how huge it was, with the crust being made of  breaded chicken coated in Parmesan and herbs, topped with mozzarella and other cheeses, and fettuccine noodles,  It was incredible.  I would show you a picture, but it was etted on before I could think of it. Showing my food on Facebook or other places is not my forte.

Benjamin started a week at camp Sunday.  We let him drive to get us there.  He did very well.  It was his longest stretch of driving to date.  We're not rushing him on getting a license.  That will come after more experience, and we all decide he is ready.  Unlike some kids in our area, Benjamin is not getting his own car.  You won't see pictures of him standing next to his own new vehicle.  Sorry, but the Strait  way concentrates more on college than cars.

Trump continues to be a huge embarrassment and, more importantly, a huge danger.  His incompetence is hurting our standing in the world, and endangering our citizens.  There is no more excuse to stick with him, Trumpeteers.  He's never going to do whatever it is you thought he was going to do.  You got conned.  It's okay.  It happens to all of us.  Now, however, is the time to own up to your mistake, and help us move on to Mike "The Handmaid's Tale" Pence, or Paul "Ayn Rand" Ryan. You see?  What are you afraid of?  Unless there is a special election, which is about as likely as a zombie outbreak, no liberal can do you harm.  At least until 2018.

Until next time,

T. M. Strait

Overshadowed Monday Musings

Yes, it was a fairly nice weekend.

It was overshadowed by the dark nature of political events. but it was a nice weekend with family.

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We spent it at home for the most part, enjoying family time.  Alison and I did get out to see a movie, and we went to church activities Sunday morning.

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We saw the movie Get Out Saturday (not Logan yet - we're running about a week behind).  It was about as good a comedy/horror social commentary I've seen, at least up there with Young Frankenstein and They Live.  A strong riff off of Guess Who's Coming to Dinner. the young male protagonist of the movie finds himself in increasing danger, as he finds his girlfriend's parents to be a substantially greeter threat than say, Robert DeNiro in the Meet the Parents movies.

We saw it with a mixed crowd, both whites and blacks, and everyone seemed to enjoy it.  One African-American woman proclaimed at the end of the movie, "I like y'all white people, but if I come to you house and you have one of those (major plot point in the film) in your house, I am getting out!"  An older white lady said to her daughter who took her, "That was weird. But it was better than TV."

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Our classic movie of the week was The Maltese Falcon.  Surprisingly, neither Alison and I had ever seen it.  It was interesting, but not as riveting as I had hoped.  Humphrey Bogart as Sam Spade was a definitely well-pronounced character.  This will sound sacrilegious, but I didn't always appreciate his portrayal.  He might have been a tad too cold and flat for me.  I enjoyed him a lot more in The African Queen.

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On Thursday, Alison went, with a high school girlfriend, to a Rick Springfield  concert in Jacksonville, an old idol of hers.  She came home happy but bruised, from trying to get over some chairs in order to shake hands with him.  I try not to ask any questions.

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Meanwhile, I got subs from a new place in town, Larry's Giant Subs.  I give them an A for menu (literally dozens and dozens of sandwiches to choose from), a B for taste (they were slightly bigger, 8 inches instead of 6, but they were flat rather than thick), and an F for following directions.  They put mayo on Benjamin's sandwich, which he hates and I told them not to do, and he wound up having to throw part of it away because he could not scrape it all off.


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Everything was overshadowed by the unhinged behavior of our electoral college winner, Trump.  His Breitbart-fueled delusion that Obama had wire tapped Trump Towers was embarrassing and scary.  He has boxed himself in where there are no good answers.  He has taken the word of extreme right-wing media over all other sources.  He's President, for God's sake.  He has all the word's information at his fingertips, and he chooses to believe Breitbart, radio extremist Mark Levine, and the ditzy hosts of Fox & Friends.

He has gone past the stage of "dangerous" and "unstable", and is now at the stage of "it's time to put Grandpa in the home, before he hurts himself and others".

God help us all.

Wednesday Wanderings Lenten Style

And so another Lenten season begins.

Once again, it comes during tax season.  Funny how that always happens.

Still, I must find a way to give it focus.  Some years I succeed.  Some years I don't.

First is the devotional aspect.  Attending church and increased devotional readings are important. One year, I started a daily reading of the bible, from the beginning, and I just kept reading until the end (end times Revelation style!).  Other years I have started other devotionals or books on religious topics.  But that has been difficult to do as the mornings I used to devote to it are now taken up with writing, and although I could change the nature of what I write, I don't think I could or should give up writing.  Nevertheless, I think I could find a way to sneak in some more devotional reading.

Second is the giving to others aspect.  That is something I definitely need to work on.  I work with Okefenokee Heritage Society, assist with community theater, aid Alison with the Okefenokee Humane Society, give money to the rector's fund.  But I need to do more, and things that directly benefit the poor and disadvantaged.  Political response and advocacy is not enough.

Third is the sacrifice of something.  It could be some combination of food or drink.  I've done that some years.  That's tough to figure out this year, as getting through tax season has me particularly unwilling to give up caffeine, or even cut back more on proteins or sugar.  But I'll keep thinking about it.

Another sacrifice that is becoming more common is to cut back on social media. I've done that before, or tried.  This is a difficult decision to do in the Age of Trump.  More and more I feel like Schindler.  Have I done enough to stand up against the new fascism?  Will I look back at this era with regrets that I did not do enough to stand in opposition to it?

Nevertheless, social media has become quite bleak, and some alteration of how I interact may be warranted.  I'm not quite sure what.  I still will post my Strait Line stories, and my Song of the Day, but I think I will cut back sharing memes and general comments.  Basically, if you want to interact with me, or see my opinions and thoughts, you'll need to see my The Strait Line posts.  If you yourself are cutting back on Social media for Lent, all you have to do is bookmark The Strait Line, and then you won't need Facebook, Twitter or whatever the heck Google One is, in order to connect to my wanderings.  And also my musings, tidbits, autobiographical stories, Saturday Political soap box, family stuff, pets, stories, novel excerpts, poetry and more.  All there by pressing a bookmark! Anyways, I might give that kind of cutting back a try.


As for food, I'm still thinking.  Maybe Brussels sprouts. Well, that might not be fair, considering I NEVER eat Brussels sprouts.

Pancakes, maybe?

Soup Done Be Good Food

This is NOT a picture of the tomato soup we had last night; it's "stock" footage.  I would have taken a picture of ours but I was in too much of a hurry to eat it.

Soup is good food.

I like soup a lot.

At our house, soup is homemade.  We use natural and organic ingredients,  There is no artificial anything.  

There is also significantly less sodium.  This could be important as I have high blood pressure problems.  Some doctors say it is a bad thing, others not so much.  I like to be on the safe side and moderate as much as I can.

We had Tomato Basil Soup last night, with a grilled cheese sandwich.  I love cheese, so you can be sure it was well represented.  The grilled cheese sandwich had sharp cheddar, Colby jack, and a local cheese, Thomasville Tomme, purchased from Dirt Road Organics,  The soup had Parmesan and mozzarella melted into it.  I told yo - I love cheese.

We have many makeshift soups, all homemade, using a mix of vegetables, some meats, and either vegetable or chicken stock.  These often do not follow recipes, but are a blending of what we have available.  This, to me, is the true meaning of soup.  I think it's the way it was done before we became so reliant on processed foods.

Alison is our Soup Guru, and I am very grateful for the time she spends on them.  Benjamin and I help when we can, but it is her cooking mastery that makes them so special,  She often uses a crock pot, so it can prepare while we are at work or school.  After it is prepared, we don't eat it for a day, letting the favors blend.

In our go-go world, it is hard to take the time to do things right.  But we have found it worth the effort, and have discovered Soup Night as the most special meal night of the week.

Soup is good food, but homemade soup is great food.

Make a potful this week!