The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing. ―Edmund Burke
Today’s the day. Google Reader goes away tonight.
So, if you’ve been getting your daily dose of Funny about Money via Google Reader, now’s the time to find a different platform for subscribing. You can subscribe via email, or transfer your Google Reader feeds to Feedly or BlogLovin’ , which advertises that you can migrate your Google Reader feeds in one click.
Several other tools are available — check out this article in USA Today. Among them are…
It’s only 112 degrees on the back porch just now. Balmy, yet. They say it will reach 118 today. This gives the local Play-Nooz nabobs something to write about, and an excuse to pepper their copy with exclamation points!!!
LOL! What foolishness. Every time the weather breaks 105 degrees, we get another hysterical EXCESSIVE HEAT WARNING!!!!! As though this weren’t a desert. As though we were all basking in a Midwestern summer with mosquitoes as big as F16s. WTF? What part of “deserts are hot in the summer and warm in the winter” needs repeated explanation to the stump-dumb public?
Oh well.
Here at the Funny Farm, the human and the dogs laid on extra water come dawn, knowing the potted plants will fry by midday unless they get at least one dose of water. Most of them will need to be watered twice today, actually. So about 45 minutes ago I set the watering system to come on a second time, which should up the chances that most of the plants in the front courtyard will live. Under the supervision of the Queen of the Universe, who is feeling preoccupied with having to herd Charlie the Golden Retriever around while coaxing the human to play with Ball, I deep-watered all the citrus, ran extra water on the roses, and manually watered the front flowerbeds.
This month’s water bill should be interesting.
All this heaving around comes at a cost: excruciating pain. The accursed back hurts so much I can barely limp up the hallway — and limp is the operative term. I can’t walk normally unless I consciously force myself to do so, and then it hurts even more. Driving is highly problematic, since I can’t easily shift my foot from the gas pedal to the brake pedal.
This has gone so far as to detach me from my usual science-based thinking and push me to call a chiropractor, whom I intend to visit on Monday. He was on his way out of the Inferno when I reached him this morning and so couldn’t see me today.
In the interim, we’re medicating ourself with a new analgesic. Sorry not to have a photo…that would entail limping into the back room to get the camera.
I’m sure I’ve written about the pain-relieving effect of ginger, which can be steeped in water or tea to make a tisane or even soaked into olive oil to create a topical ointment. But to reprise, here’s how you make a ginger tea:
Take a good-sized chunk of fresh ginger. (The one I used for today’s batch was about three or four inches long). Trim off any crusty or mildewed parts. Wash. Do not bother to peel (puh-LEEZE!). Cut it into several small pieces, about 1/2 thick, more or less. Just chop it up, remembering that the cut surfaces will leach ginger juice into the water you’re about to pour over them.
Bring a pot of water to a boil. Place the pieces of ginger into a teapot or other heatproof serving vessel. If you want to drink the tisane straight and are not on a diet, pour a bunch of honey or sugar in there with the ginger chunks. For today’s effort, I added no sweetener.
When the water comes to a rolling boil, pour it over the ginger, to fill the teapot. Let this steep for upwards of 20 minutes (the longer the better). You can store it in the refrigerator after it cools enough to safely set it on a fridge shelf.
Now for the ultimate analgesic:
Get yourself a fine bottle of gin. Scare up a cucumber and some fresh mint.
Slice off three or four thin disks of cucumber. Punch them with a fork or knife to sort of macerate them.
Place some ice in a favorite tall drinking glass.
Pour enough ginger tea in there to fill it about a quarter of the way. Add more ice if need be. Toss in the cucumber slices.
Add a jigger of gin. Stir the mix around to macerate the cuke a little and blend the ginger tea with the booze. Fill to the top with club soda. Add a few macerated leaves of fresh mint.
Consume.
Very palliative.
Mijito and his band of friends are convening in Chicago as we scribble. I understand the weather’s a bit problematic in the Windy City, but whatever is going on there, barring a tornado it will be a welcome break from the low desert’s July heat. In the meantime, Charley the Golden Retriever is hanging out at my house.
Charley has grown into a mellow sort of golden retriever. Not real bright, in human terms, but laid-back and easy enough to have around. This thing, whatever it is, is not a German shepherd. Not a corgi, either.
The corgi has no problem lording it over poor ole Charley, despite the fact that he’s about four or five times her size. He doesn’t seem to mind being herded around. But on the other hand, he waits for his opportunities and visibly rejoices whenever he gets a chance to grab a toy, scarf down some extra food, or distract the human’s attention his way. Cassie has to work to maintain her sovereignty when Charley is around, whereas with only the human to cope with, she’s unarguably the Queen of the Universe.
Well, it looks like the pain is down to about a 4 now, on the famous scale of 1 to 10. So I believe the cold pack can return to its place in the freezer and I can retire to the bed, where I’ve spent most of the past three or four days, thereinat to bake the chilled back on a heating pad.
Over at LinkedIn, a member of an editors’ group posted this link to a very entertaining rant by ghostwriter Jeff Haden. I used to teach resumé-writing and, as a business owner and as the head of an editorial office at the Great Desert University, discovered all that canned resumé advice, straight out of the textbook, came back to haunt.
How many times have you told some prospective employer how “unique” you are? How superlatively unique!
And how could you fail to tell the hiring committee of your “goal-oriented” nature? Your “world-class” administrative assistant skills? Your “creative,” “dynamic,” and “results-oriented” personality?
But did you happen to provide a concrete example to prove any of these steamy claims?
Come on! All I want is someone to do the filing, answer the phone, and learn the university’s involved purchasing software so we can order some paper now and then. Do I need a “world-class” administrative assistant for these Herculean tasks? Especially one who doesn’t know “world-class,” “goal-oriented,” and “results-oriented” are hyphenated?
When I look at a resumé, I hope to see what specifically the applicant has done somewhere else that a) indicates what he can accomplish on the job and b) tells me how she can bring the skills required to bear on the tasks that my organization needs to have done.
It comes right back to the oldest chestnut of advice to budding writers: Show, don’t tell.
Show an example of what you can do. And try to provide specifics, preferably with figures, that bear on the work you’ll be doing in job you’re trying to land.
If you must use a vague term like “creative” because you figure your resumé is being sorted by a computer searching for keywords, list accomplishments that prove you’re creative:
• Established and oversaw two new departments for Arizona Highways, “Hike of the Month” and “Mileposts”
• Created and taught the College of Arts and Sciences’ first fully online course
You’re “goal-oriented”? Prove it:
• Wrote four feature-length articles a month plus several shorter pieces for regional and national magazines
• Obtained a contract for and completed a fourth book
“Results-oriented”? Show what results you obtained:
• Co-wrote national bestseller for William Morrow that returned $1.5 million in revenues during its first year and $1 million the second year
• Redesigned research newsletter, turning it into a “magaletter” that became the basis of its current magazine format
You say you’re a “team player”? Whose team did you play on?
• Established and developed office and designed all management policies. Developed and regularly updated strategic plan.
• Initiated collaboration with Scholarly Publishing Program and Arizona Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies.
• Coordinated management of unit with office of the Dean of Liberal Arts and Sciences.
• Consulted with faculty editors and Dean’s Office on publishing matters.
• Mentored graduate students in Scholarly Publishing Program.
If you’re feeding bloviated terms from a job description back to the employer, remember that the person doing the hiring wants to know what you can do for the company, not what you think of yourself — even if you think your qualifications exactly match the hot air in the job ad.
Find out something about the employer. Then massage your resumé so it highlights past accomplishments or training that bears directly on the kind of work you will be doing in the coveted new job. It’s all very nice that you did x or y for some other outfit. But what can you do for me? In your cover letter, show how that will come to pass.
The cover letter, in particular, should explicitly show that you understand something about the hiring company or agency and explain what, exactly, you can do for it. Don’t talk about your needs, for heaven’s sake. Talk about what you can do for the employer.
One of the funniest application letters that ever crossed my desk came from a guy whose cover letter went on and on about why he was applying to my company. He explained in great detail how he had moved to Florida in search of a better life. He decided he didn’t like the weather there and so he was moving to Arizona and wished to come to work for me.
Second runner-up: an application from a newly minted J-school graduate who couldn’t spell and didn’t recognize the comma splices with which she had salted her cover letter.
😆 🙄 😆
Sure: it’s all about you. But your task is to make it look like you’re all about the employer. And prove it.
Beautiful Soup, so rich and green,
Waiting in a hot tureen!
Who for such dainties would not stoop?
Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup!
Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup!
Beau – ootiful Soo – oop!
Beau – ootiful Soo – oop!
Soo – oop of the e – e – evening,
Beautiful, beautiful Soup!
Beautiful Soup! Who cares for fish,
Game, or any other dish?
Who would not give all else for two
pennyworth only of beautiful Soup?
Pennyworth only of beautiful Soup?
Beau – ootiful Soo – oop!
Beau – ootiful Soo – oop!
Soo – oop of the e – e – evening,
Beautiful, beautiful Soup!
—Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland
To beguile away the hours while alternately freezing and heating the crippled back, I pulled some of my favorite cookbooks off the bookshelves. Gosh! there are some great recipes in there! Trouble with knowing how to cook is you tend to forget about following recipes.
Cucina Rustica, an alluring book of rustic Italian recipes collected by Viana La Place and Evan Kleiman
I was gonna pick up fennel on the last trip to Sprouts, but instead decided to get leeks. I love leeks. But then, I love fennel. Why didn’t I get both? Probably an innate response to the cheap gene.
So decided to substitute leek for fennel and fines herbes for the fresh basil (although basil may go in near the end of this process, possibly in the form of pesto), and add a few carrots (nutrition!!). Here’s how it fell out:
Get yourself…
• an onion, coarsely chopped
• olive oil
• 2 to 5 garlic cloves, coarsely chopped
• a couple of leeks, coarsely chopped
• a stalk or two of celery, chopped
• a couple of carrots, coarsely chopped
• a can of tomatoes (mine is unsalted and only 14.5 oz — the largest I could find in the low-sodium variant)
• a dash of red or white wine (probably optional)
• some tasty herbs (I used dried fines herbes & probably will add a little fresh basil, thinly sliced, whenever I get around to it)
• chicken broth (preferably low-salt or home-made salt-free); or beef broth; or vegetable broth; or water
• a dash of cumin or home-made curry powder (optional)
• a squeeze of fresh lemon or orange juice (optional)
• a little more wine or sherry (to taste; optional)
Skim the bottom of a nice, big soup pot with a little olive oil. Heat over medium-high heat for a couple of minutes. Add the onion and turn the heat down to a fast “medium” level. Allow the onion to cook, stirring occasionally, until it’s getting transparent. Then add the leeks and the herbs. Stir well. Allow to cook a few more minutes. As the leek turns bright green and starts to soften, add the garlic. Stir well.
Cook gently until the onion starts to brown. You’d like it to just be starting to caramelize. Resist getting carried away.
Right around in here, add some cumin or some home-made (or salt-free) curry powder. Take it easy with this. I used about a teaspoon. You can always add more if cumin lights your gustatory fire.
Stir well and cook until the carrots are tender all the way through.
Now add the liquid: that would be the canned tomatoes and juice and the chicken stock. Add enough to fully cover all the veggies and then some. It’s supposed to be soup, after all. If you have some wine laying around, add a splash of that — I tossed in about 1/4 cup of Rotgut Red.
Turn up the heat until the pot comes to a very slow boil. Promptly turn the heat back down to medium-low and maintain it at a slow simmer.
Go away. Write a blog post or whatever you do to keep yourself amused. After about half an hour or forty-five minutes, return to the kitchen.
Taste the broth. (Don’t be an idiot about this. It’s freaking hot! Blow on a spoonful until you can taste it without inflicting third-degree burns on your tongue). Add whatever you think you would like to round out the flavor: a little wine, some sliced-up basil leaves, a squeeze of lemon juice, more wine or sherry — whatEVER. Soups are amazingly forgiving, so fool with it as you please.
Once you’re done with this magnum opus of the culinary art, run the stuff through a blender (or whack it up with a mini-blender, or use a food press). You should now have an extraordinarily delicious purée that you can advertise as soup.
If you are not on a diet, THE way to serve this amazing concoction is by placing a slice of delicious Italian or French bread (it can be a whisper on the stale side) in the bottom of a bowl and ladling the soup into the bowl, to fill.
If, on the other hand, you’re trying to be saintly about carbs, simply dish up a serving in a bowl.
Either way, sprinkle a little Parmesan or feta over the top.
Very little. Aged cheeses are highly salted. Just take it easy with that stuff and if you use it, don’t add salt to the soup.
Good. Very, very good.
Finishing touches:
Dietetic
• Squeeze of lemon, lime, or orange juice
• Dollop of fat-free yogurt
• Very small amount of Parmesan or feta cheese
Forget the Dietetic
• Another splash of wine, sherry, or brandy
• Salt to taste
• Swirl of heavy cream
• Real yogurt
• Real sour cream
So you pulled a muscle or put your back out and you think you’re gunna die of massive excruciating pain, and the doc or physical therapist tells you to use cold packs on it. Trouble with cold packs? They melt.
A favorite way to make a cold pack is to use a bag of frozen peas or corn. This is great, but a) peas and corn melt down into slush pretty quickly, and b) oh horror of frugal horrors, it wastes food!
I’ve been folding up a washcloth or several paper towels placing them flat inside a baggie, and sticking that in the freezer. This solves the food waste issue, but when you first take them out, they’re board-hard. After a few minutes the cloth or paper toweling will defrost enough to mold around the sore spot, and that is extremely nice…for about five minutes.
The frozen washcloth gambit
Shortly, these gadgets warm right up to body temperature. Annoying.
Try this instead: dried beans. Get some bulk dried beans, such as pinto beans or peruanos — very cheap at any good ethnic store or even at Costco — put two or three cups into a ziplock bag, and freeze. The longer the better.
Bean baggie!
After a few hours, apply the frozen beanbags to your aches and pains, in the usual mode.
Dried beans take longer to defrost than frozen peas or corn, and they also can be molded around a sore joint or limb. Lentils would work, too.
Remember to wear a T-shirt or wrap the bag in a kitchen towel to protect your skin from the cold. Don’t apply any extremely cold pack directly to your skin.
So I’ve spent the past two or three days working on a prospectus for the adjunct teaching rant book and this morning sent it off to the acquisitions editor at the desired press. Soon we should be hearing peals of laughter from the direction of Maryland echoing merrily across the land.
LOL! I’ll be surprised if this guy goes for it. But strange things happen. Occasionally.
The project morphed into a fair amount of work. I reworked and added to the introduction; rewrote some of the Adjunctorium material and added a bunch of essays to the recycled posts, bringing the number of entries to 45. Planned additions and revisions to the afterword. Wrote a proposal, table of contents, and chapter outline, put them together with the spiffed-up introduction and a short-form CV, and made the introduction’s citation & documentation conform to Chicago 16’s author-date format. Converted this mound of paper into a PDF and shipped it off, under an e-cover letter.
This little chore has been a mighty distraction from the dieting and exercising enterprise.
But then along came another, much more onerous, distraction: more pain!
The back was feeling more or less better — sometimes down as low as a .25 on a scale of 10. But over the past several days the pain gauge has risen to a definite 7. Down the tailbone and into the hip: my god it hurts!
I can barely walk around the house — it feels, weirdly, like one leg is somehow longer than the other, creating a bizarre limp — and really shouldn’t be driving the car, because I’m having a hard time lifting my foot from the gas pedal to the brake pedal.
Obviously, this brought a screeching halt to the weight-loss scheme. Actually, it was in hiatus, anyway: after 12½ pounds, I hit a plateau, so over the past four or five days haven’t been losing weight. But when the fat was burning away, what was working was 3½ miles of brisk walking and a half-mile of swimming. Right now just kicking my legs in the pool hurts.
That’s kaput. I can barely crawl from the back of the house to the kitchen, though I was able to bicycle the 3 1/2 miles this morning.
Had to bring the bike in the house so Gerardo could blower out the garage, and by the time all that was done there was no way I could roll the thing back out there. {sigh}
Decided to try a glass of wine, since alcohol often dulls the back pain. Naturally, this required a steak and potatoes, eh?
Naturally, the grill wouldn’t come on. So instead of roasting the potatoes and grilling the meat over the fire, I had to sauté them in butter. Very thinnening.
Didn’t work. Tasted good, though.
An hour or so ago, it dawned on me that since this pain is radically different from the usual aches and pains, maybe it is different. What if instead of a pinched nerve, it’s a real, actual muscle spasm?
Hm.
So I dropped one of the generic Flexerils that came my way when the Mayo guy speculated the back, hip, and foot pain were caused by some sort of chronic muscle spasm.
Stuff didn’t work on that, but in the hour or two since I took the thing this afternoon, the hip feels a little better. Not so’s I can walk around. But better.
Shit. This getting old business is for the birds.
Oh well. The question is, what will I do with this manuscript after the guy in Maryland rejects it?
Not, I expect, sink $1200 into graphic design and e-book conversion. A friend has recently started converting Word files to Kindle format. He’s only charging $250 or so, and he does a good job.
So I’ll need to decide whether to try another scholarly or mainline publisher or to just go ahead and peddle it myself on Amazon.
Don’t know. We’ll just have to see what kind of response it gets.
Image: Books. Johannes Jansson/Norden.org. Creative Commons Attribution 2.5 Denmark license.