Coffee heat rising

Whatcha Doin’ for Thanksgiving?

You have a plan for Thanksgiving? Eating in immoderation, I hope? Preferably with friends or at least relatives who don’t make you too crazy?

M’hijito and I are going, once again, to the home of his delightful friends, the couple with the twins. 🙂 Better them than me, eh? Seriously, the children are outrageously adorable and really very well behaved. Uhm…at  least, they were at the stage they were in the last time we saw them. LOL!

Every year this couple throws a gigantic TG  shindig, to which they invite ALL the friends and relatives. This provides an opportunity to trot the old folks around, which is entertaining. Lots of good food and booze are served, children play, dogs oversee, old folks gossip, young adults work their buns off. What could be better? Assuming you’re an old folk or a small child, that is.

I really enjoy my son’s friends. It’s always a delight to have the opportunity to see them in action and talk with them. Wish there were more such opportunities.

butterball-turkeyEvery Thanksgiving, too, I avail myself of the cheap prices on bad turkey, so as to get meat for the dogs, enough to feed them for a month or more.  Right now a Butterball is in the oven; it should be ready in another three hours.

At 79 cents a pound, these things are really no bargain. They’re injected with sodium-laced water, so, according to the package, 8% of what you’re paying for is water.

Hm. So this turkey is 11.59 pounds. That means I actually got 10.66 pounds of meat and bone for my $9.15. Sooo…if you divide $9.15 by 10.66 pounds, that should give you the real price per pound, right? $9.15/10.66 = $1.50 a pound. Cripes!

When you consider that maybe half the thing is bones, I could’ve done better buying a boneless pork roast at Costco, and probably gotten better quality meat for the hounds. A LOT better….

Add to that the fact that the agricorp that produces Butterball turkeys generated the first-ever conviction for felony animal abuse for its atrocious treatment of its captive birds, and you’re given even more pause.

Because of Ruby’s allergies, which lead to ear infections, the vet asked me to quit feeding her both beef and pork. She hasn’t had either in weeks, and her big old rabbity ears have pretty well cleared up.

That may have to do with the fact that she stole and ATE the whole tube of ear ointment… Does Otomax work internally? Argh.

Anyway, I’m pretty sure the problem is beef — the quiescent infection flared up when I gave her a rawhide chew toy, which is, of course, a beef product. But still feeling leery, I decided to hold the pork until such time as my health is good enough to allow for wrestling with the dog over her ears again. It’s no fun to treat this dog with ear wash and ointments!

So that’s why I bought a substandard turkey and stuck it in the oven.

Oh well. I hope this one doesn’t taste like factory chemicals, the way the last icky Butterball turkey I bought did. That one, I wouldn’t even feed to the dogs. I’m hoping to get a meal or two for myself, despite the low quality; then cut up the rest for the dogs and use the bones to make broth, which can be frozen for future use.

Speaking of turkey, if you imbibe do check out Revanche’s recipe for turkey meatloaf.

And so, to work…

Happy Thanksgiving, One and All

 

Consumer-proof Packaging: What’s in YOUR Kitchen Drawer?

So the other day I went to open a bottle of cheap wine, the type with the screw-on cap. Naturally, I reached into the kitchen drawer — premium real estate in this house — and quite naturally pulled out a wrench.

Yeah. There’s a wrench in the kitchen drawer, something no woman in my mother’s generation (or in mine, until rather recently) would EVER have allowed to take up space there.

This led me to reflect on the the ubiquity of consumer-proof packaging — almost everything you buy is hermetically sealed in layers of plastic (much of it hard as a football helmet) and cardboard — and how much I hate that kind of waste. And how much I hate the ways it has to be dealt with.

In addition to a wrench, my kitchen drawer contains a pair of pliers (good for pulling off the hated inner paper seals of paper and tinfoil, among other things), a heavy-duty pair of scissors, and an extra-sharp ultra-cheap grocery-store knife that I don’t mind denting or bending. The tin snips won’t fit in there — have to walk out to the garage to get those, whenever I need to hack into one of Costco’s accursed heavy plastic clamshells.

Costco isn’t the only offender. You get impermeable packaging from Fry’s Electronics, Target, Walmart, and even sometimes from Amazon, despite the latter’s policy designed to discourage it.

Also needed:

• A screwdriver and a hammer to break into the adult-proof pill and cleanser bottles
• A package of thumbtacks to render the adult-proof bottles openable
• A hacksaw, for worst-case scenarios

How can I say how much I resent having to own a tool chest devoted to opening containers? And how can I say how much I hate the amount of useless plastic and cardboard that goes straight to the city landfill, often tainted with a few drops of blood from my fingers?

Am I the only person who is made crazy by the crazy packaging? What tools do you keep in your kitchen drawers these days?

Like a Flash!

Lightning_strike_jan_2007Twenty minutes till time to shoot out the door for the 7:15 ayem meet in Scottsdale. This post is gonna have to be short & fast, because there’ll be no time for blogging frolics between now and the middle of the night.

So, yes, off to the meeting, where thank God all I have to do is preside, not present.

Then shoot back here, part company with carpooling pal, and shoot out to Staples and Michael’s, there to buy supplies for my latest organizational scheme: another whiteboard, this one to keep track, on a monthly basis, of the book-marketing schemes.

Yesterday I got a start on a few of the several strategies that I’ll be trying out on Slave Labor, which as books go comes under the heading of “test run.” I hope to use Slave Labor as a device to learn as much as I can about producing, marketing, and selling self-published opuses, which with any luck can then be applied to the upcoming, better books, two of which I hope to put out shortly.

Then it’s back to the Funny Farm, here to shovel a three-month-old stack of paper off the desk.

Forgive me, Mammon, for I have sinned. I have not reconciled Your bank account statements for the past three or four months; I have not even looked at Your illustrious bills; I have refused to think about the pile of statements from Your engine of money production, Fidelity…

It is going to take the entire day to plow through that stuff. WonderAccountant has been importuning me to haul this stuff over to her and to set up a new billing system in QuickBooks. I’ve resisted personfully, but  the work can’t be put off any longer. Student papers were graded yesterday, I’ve almost recovered from the last Adventure in Medical Science, and now I’m out of excuses: it is time.

Ugh.

And so {sigh} to work…

Image: Lightning Strike in 2007. fir0002. Flastafffotos.com.au.

This, That, and the Other…

This…

Finally feeling up for re-engaging the exercise routine. The endless spate of surgeries has meant I wasn’t able to use the pool all summer long, and a significant part of the fat-reduction plan has to do with daily, vigorous swimming. The result, of course, is that despite my best efforts to starve myself, the fat is slowly crawling back.

Actually, in moments of particular distress and depression, I’m afraid “starve” was not the operative word: have recourse to comfort foods was more like it. My concept of “comfort food” entails large portions of pasta followed by large portions of ice cream. Or maybe even just a whole meal of ice cream with some fine sauce dumped over it.

{sigh}

Anyway, for awhile there I was as much as six pounds over the desired weight. Now we’re back down to three. So it shouldn’t take much longer to get back down to what I crave to regard as the New Normal.

That…

Speaking of the which, last night Ruby and Cassie BOTH trotted two miles with me, without dragging, sitting down in the middle of the road, begging to be picked up, or otherwise impeding traffic.

The weather is finally cooling down enough that Cassie, whose hair is about three times thicker than Ruby’s, can go more than half a mile without threatening to expire of heat exhaustion. Last night’s low, ô mirabilis! was 46.7 degrees. It was in the 50s when we sallied forth after dark. And I’ll tellya, those were two mighty happy dogs!

Happy human, too.

In the morning, I took them for a mile-long walk, then returned them to the house and went out for a second mile undoglested. So for moi, that amounted to four full miles over the course of the day!

And that’s my target: since I can’t swim or do a lot of yoga, I’m trying for four miles a day. If that doesn’t get the fat off, nothin’ will!

The ’Tother…

Yesterday the Mayo called to set up an appointment with a new radiologist. I’d already seen one, but WonderSurgeon wanted me to see whoever was in the “conference” in which she planned to discuss my “unusual” case. Other than scheduling an appointment with me at the standard three-weeks-later surgical check-up, she has had nothing to say. So I have no idea whether the consensus (if any) was to lob off her Work of Art or that it’s worth trying to save the newly and amazingly rebuilt boob. It may be that she just can’t bring herself to tell me they think it should go. Or it may be that she wants me to hear what this new radiologist thinks are the prospects for therapy. We shall see.

The more I think about it, though, the more I feel it’s six of one, half-a-dozen of the other…and that really, mastectomy may be the smartest course of action.

If that’s what the docs recommend, I’m going to ask if they’ll give me a two-for-one…  Since the entity that seems to have invaded half the right boob has been mammogram-invisible for years, it’s reasonable to suspect a similar one infests the left boob. If they can make a convincing argument for that, we should be able to persuade Medicare to cover it.

But even if we can’t, if they could keep the out-of-pocket cost under ten grand, I would just pay to have the left one lobbed off, too. That would obviate a whole slew of problems, mean I’d never have to see another mammogram machine for the rest of my life(!!!!), and make me even on both sides. The cash is there to buy a car; since I’ve already decided that a new car is off the table, I could use the automobile savings to cover the cost of lopping off the second boob.

So, there we are.

Meanwhile, one of my three fave clients resurfaced this morning with another book, bless his heart! Dearly love the man. He’s a very good writer, a very interesting human being, and he pays without wincing. 😀

You Know You Should Stay Out of Costco When…

It’s Saturday.

It’s Sunday.

Today is the day before…

Hallowe’en
Thanksgiving
Christmas
New Year’s Eve
Easter
The Fourth of July
Labor Day
Memorial Day
Veteran’s Day
The Big Game (any Big Game)
The World Series
Your (child’s, spouse’s, mother’s, father’s, best friend’s, favorite aunt’s, favorite uncle’s,  beloved grandparent’s, boss’s) birthday
Your own birthday
The church potluck

You are…

Hungry
Feeling put upon
Feeling generous
Losing weight and need new clothes
Gaining weight and need new clothes
Depressed
Happy
In a great mood
In a terrible mood
Pregnant
Married to or otherwise closely associated with a pregnant woman
Planning a party
Searching for something, anything, to take to a potluck

You have just…

Acquired a new puppy
Acquired a new kitten
Given birth
Been told you will give birth sometime within the next nine months
Won $100 in the lottery
Received the annual Costco AMEX cash kickback
Been paid your biweekly paycheck
Been paid by a client
Fallen in love
Fallen out of love
Realized life is short and eternity is long

Damn, I’m Good!

LOL! Check out my latest tour de force over at Writers Plain & Simple. Feeling pretty smug about it.

One of my clients emitted a newly plotted Book I of his sweeping historical epic, complete with reimagined characters and richly researched details. As I was reading one section of it, certain baleful habits in verb use struck my eye. Naturally, since I never can keep an opinion to myself, I held forth at length about how to fix these. He claimed to like the result (at least he hasn’t thrown a frying pan at me yet). So I got his permission to use a few examples from that section as the basis for a post at the writer’s blog.

The result, I think, is kind of informative for people who want to be Writers with a Capital W.

Might be useful for bloggers, too. 😉