Urspo does the laundry

Note: The Board of Directors Here at Spo-reflections were a bit puzzled by this one. The subject of laundry is of little interest to them as they lack experience. When something becomes too foul even by their standards they tend to just get new garments. There is no dry cleaners in The Time of Legends. The pokes at Someone are not to be taken too seriously; he is well over four feet and no he’s not planning on leaving despite our divided opening on the use of Chlorox for colors. Spo

I remember my father the attorney once had a case involving two parties who apparently went bezerk over an argument how the laundry was to be done. It probably wasn’t the real matter to the suit but the breaking point. However if I was on the jury I would be lenient knowing opinions on how to deal with the dirty duds is an invidious subject often leading to violence and spilled bleach. There is the ‘right way’ which is usually yours and the ‘wrong way’ which is your mate’s. This could lead to domestic violence and if all goes well divorce and setting fire to public buildings.

A while back I heard a podcast in which some great laundry expert recommended with today’s washer machine technology and garments one can usually wash everything on the ‘speed’ cycle in warm water to save time and electricity and water. The amount of needed detergent is a fraction of what the good folks at Tide tell you to use. I tested these ideas and lo! a fraction of soap in a 15 minute-long washing came out fine. Someone finds this approach nonsensical if not dangerous; when he washes clothes he sets things on the regular cycle (about fifty minutes) with cold water and a full cup of detergent. What we need is a double-blind study supervised by the UN, washing half the socks my way (the right way) and their fellows his way (the wrong way). Until science proves me right I’ve taken over the laundry – which is a mixed blessing as I am doing it the right way but dammit I am doing all the laundry.*

I am Sorting Master in charge of the clean clothes going into His, Mine, and Ours piles. Someone takes an item out of the hamper, folds it, and places it accordingly and I do it the right way: dumping the pile and first sorting them into proper taxonomy of T-shirts here and sock over there and then fold them. We tend to undo each other’s means to fold T-shirts as not acceptable to the other.**

In matters of ironing, I defer to Someone who does a much better job than I. I what I call ‘good enough’ ironing, which I do every Sunday morning until my shirts are done and hanging in the closet. He tends to iron a shirt the morning he needs it and leaves the rest in the large clothes hamper which mocks me daring me to do something about it.

I suppose I should have asked a few logical questions when I met him but now it is too late. I am Laundry Master and Sorting Master and Iron Master (sometimes) which has to be until Someone learns to do things correctly.

We have some things in common: bleach for the stinky socks and funny little pleasant smelling ‘beads’ for the Spo-shirts. Jolly good fun,

*In his defense I generate three times the amount of laundry. I regularly go to the gym and take walks and I am a dirty beast at baseline. Someone doesn’t dirty anything.

** Open my clothes drawers and you will see the socks are in semi-rolls like upside Us which allows an immediate visual inspection and ability to pick a pair from the rows. The T-shirts are folded the same way. Someone puts his Ts laying on top of each other so you only see the one on top. Oh the horror.

Notes from the office.

Work life doesn’t seem very interesting at the moment – my life anyway. It’s good there is nothing ‘bad’ happening other than Someone has a URI (upper respiratory infection). It is probably just a cold. Regardless, he got up this morning and went to work. I was quite cross with him for doing so. If it were the other way around viz. I being the sick one insisting on going to work he’s give me holy heck for doing so. We both fall into the neurosis if we are not at work people will be disappointed and angry at us. Patients sometimes have to wait for months for their appointment to see me only to learn the doc’s out sick today. I seem to be doing alright health-wise. I’m surprised at this as it is allergy season and normally I am sneezing my head off. What I have is a nose closed tighter than the Korean border.

Yesterday at the PHX office I got a new mouse which is sans cord (that means without). The old one’s cord reached across my thighs from the lower left side where I sit. It feels odd not to have a cord in the way. The new mouse lights up with different colors of which I haven’t figured any correlations. Perhaps they are just meant to be pretty. A mouse without a cord doesn’t look very mouse-like to me. Maybe ‘hamster’ is a more apt name.

Yesterday I had another transfer case from the RN who works here. The reason for the switch is always the same: she was making no eye contact but spent her time in counseling typing on the laptop with her back turned to patient. I wouldn’t like that either in a therapist. I type while interacting with patients but never in the first appointment (I write notes on paper) and in the follow up cases I consciously keep my eyes on the patient. It’s difficult; it’s easier to keep my eyes on the screen rather than on the person. The screen at the PHX office is an old one but I like it as it isn’t very big so it doesn’t block vision. The one in the MESA office is wide enough to display an IMAX movie and I keep it and the chairs/sofa just so there is minimal barrier between the two parties.

The Overlords stated a year ago we would stop using our current EHR (Valant) to become one with the Borg which is their system Athena. The translation time was April; it is now pushed to June. Apparently they are doing other clinics first which is fine as impediments and bugs can be discovered there making ours more smooth. They recently sent a manual about Athena which I haven’t opened. I am OK with the current system for my needs are modest ones. Valant comes with large amounts of options I never need or use. I hope Athena isn’t worse.

I hope they aren’t expecting us to wake up one morning to a new system and expect us to fly without issue. In 2015 when we went from paper charts it took a few weeks to get it up and running. Maybe going from one system to another is easier. Using Athena means patient data can be shared by other minions of The Overlords lest this one AKA Urs Truly drops dead some other shrink can take over.

That’s about all the at-work news this Thorsday morning other than The House Manager remains keen on redecorating. In theory I am getting new chairs for the PHX office, which would be nice; the present ones are looking a bit worn. Maybe I will ask for a cordless keyboard. Wouldn’t that be hot puppies!

World of mine Wednesdays Ws

What’s top of my mind: My waistline. I got out the summer Bermudas and cargo shorts the other day. Oh the horror. All of them are snug and a few don’t fit. More work is needed especially diet. I soon see The Good Doctor and he will not be pleased to know I’ve spread out some. He’s ready to swoop in with a metformin prescription and sooner I’d eat rats at Tewkesbury than add another medication.

Where I’ve been: A silent movie. Last weekend we went downtown to The Orpheum theatre to see the 1929 German film “Pandora’s Box”. It is a brilliant work; every shot is exquisite. Lulu (the main character) is the archetypal Femme Fatale, who destroys everyone in her life simply by being irresistible. Among her many admirers is Countess Augusta Geschwitz who is blatantly lesbian – and in a 1929 movie! If you haven’t seen this amazing movie I recommend it. It’s stunning.

Where I’m going: The opening of Heorot Johnsons III. A raven delivered an invitation announcing the grand opening of HJ3 and I am invited as honored guest and in charge of the clean up squad. The runes say ‘please no gifts’ but no one pays attention to this. It is folly to show up at Viking soiree empty-handed lest you leave without hands. I am eager to see the improvements they made compared to the old place which includes indoor plumbing. The gaming room is rumored to have a splendid table for playing “Offices and Bosses”.* I asked for a room of my own and NOT in the dungeon. My fingers are crossed they remembered to install WiFi.

What I’m watching: The backyard. A bobcat was spotted in our backyard on more than one occasion. What’s it doing there is anyone’s guess; up to no good that’s certain. I caught him the other day drinking from the cement pond. Knowing it’s around gives me the willies’ now I don’t let out Harper out before determining if the coast is clear. I get the cat credit for surviving as it does in hostile suburbia. The cat is a reminder when the humans moved into the valley the critters stayed. This could worse: it could have been a javelina or Kari Lake.

What I’m reading: Tom Brown’s School days. I am a big fan of “The Flashman” novels. For thems unfamiliar with the series, Flashman is a cheat, a liar, a coward, and a womanizer – and he manages to bungle into some of history’s most important battles and moments much to his dismay. Mr. Fraser does a brilliant job conveying history through the eyes of this anti-hero. Old Flashy is deplorable yet you can’t help not loving the rascal, probably because he isn’t a hypocrite. Flashman is based on the bully from Tom Brown’s Schooldays.

What I’m listening to: People speaking French. I’ve studied German and I’ve studied Spanish mostly through reading lessons. ASL I learned visibly. With French I am taking a different approach: learning mostly through hearing. German and Spanish are fairly predictable that what you read is how you pronounce it. This is not so with French which looks notorious for dropping all consonants at the end of the words. If I spoke out loud how I think a word is pronounced I would awful. Thus the new approach of listening. This may be best in the long run because the point of learning a language is understanding what someone is saying not what you are reading. Tres amusant. (which is not pronounced trez amusantttt)

What I’m eating: Nothing I grew up with. Recently I was eating a Thai curry dish (which I did with relish) only to realize almost nothing I eat nowadays resembles what I ate in my youth. The daily eats are mostly Mexican and Chinese while ‘eating out” is often Indian or Thai. What they have in common is spice and complexity. I am glad for these cuisines as they beat the bland Midwestern fare of my youth by a country mile for spice and flavor. By chance if I get a hold of a hot dish I add chilies or curry to it to give it some decent taste. Growing up the fine herbs of Michigan were pepper and salt.

Who needs a good slap: A couple of patients. In the past couple of weeks a few folks have been fired as they were being repeatedly rude and nasty – not with me but towards the staff. This is not an uncommon matter: patient being beastly to the receptionists and medical assistants but are sweet as pie with me. At some point The House Manager says no more to this crap and informs me the patient has been fired unless I see a reason not to. I seldom disagree. If a patient is bad to everyone including me that’s usually a sign of active mental illness but if they have the ability to put it in check this is another matter.

On a scale of 1-5, I give patients yelling and saying nasty things to the front line staff (all women) three slaps.

Who gets a fist-bump: The plumber (or someone like him). The spigot on the kitchen sink for the water filtration system has been leaking for some time. The bathtub in the powder room has a low continual drip made worse when I dared try to clean the tub. Water waste is a big and expensive no-no here in the desert. It turns out our AC/heater company also provides plumbing jobs so we don’t have to search for a plumber hoping to get one who isn’t a shyster. The plumber (or someone like him) came and fixed both drips. Good for him!

What I’m planning: A Butler list. I heard about this on a podcast. It is having all service-folk like the Plumber, the Veterinarian, the Electrician etc. written on a single piece of paper, along with a schedule of when to rotate the mattresses and change the filters and clean the carpets. The best time to dig the well is when you are not thirsty, and the best way to call for help is if an already-established service with number at hand.

What’s making me smile: Pencils. The other day the current incarnation of The Medical Assistant was caught throwing out a handful of unused pencils. When I asked why she states no one uses pencils. I do, I explained, as retrieved them for my own. I now have a handful of newly-sharpened pencils. Pencils are ersatz magic wands, ones you can sharpen and have at it.

*’Offices and Bosses’ is a fantasy role-playing game quite popular in The Time of Legends. Characters interact in an office setting to obtain a paycheck and status among the employees. The main person who is House Manager arranges for office intrigue and productivity. My character is ‘James Smith’; he is a third level Temp Worker. Jolly good fun.

Spo-reflections on the three part of (my)Self

While it is generally not good to put the psyche into pat categories, at times it is useful at times for getting across some concepts. I recently recalled an old paper I read in shrink school titled “The private Self” in which the author talks about that part of a person’s life that is never revealed, not even to our nearest and dearest.* There are three broad types of Self: The Public Self; The Private Self; The Personal Self. The paper got me reflecting on my what goes into which of the three realms of my personal Idaho.

Public Self. At work I am The Good Doctor and all that entails. It is my professional Persona and it takes on different aspects depending on context needs. I can be The Magician or The Father figure. Sometimes I sound like Guinan or even Spock from Star Trek. For some I am the ‘Fun Uncle” who helps keep them from being too serious. I ought to dress more the part (white shirt/tie and dress slacks) but my Personal Self has too many fun shirts to show off.

My Public Self outside of work among social settings often takes on The Clown, trying to be funny or witty to make others laugh. This comes as natural to me as breathing, something I developed in my childhood to keep safe. I have to watch this one as not everyone wants to laugh and clowns can be tedious. It can get in the way of genuine in-depth interactions.

Personal Self: Friends and relations who are close get this part of my Psyche. Revealing your personal life is hazardous as people can reject it. This hurts; this causes many to be on guard with their Personal Self and stay safe in Public Self roles.** When I strip off the pageantry that is The Public Self what’s left isn’t very interesting. Overall it’s a bit boring.

How much of The Persona Self do I reveal in my writing? A great amount I would guess. This is a public domain so patients, relations, and The APA Secret Police may reading so I am conscious of all I write, including the times I am trying to be funny (The Clown comes on stage here from time to time to give The Personal Self a break). When I write from The Personal Self I fret it will be boring. This is often not the case. Indeed! When I get personal warts and all I often get the most praise and comments. It’s nice when you bare your soul and people don’t spit or run off.

Then there is The Private Self, the part no one sees. By definition no one has ever encountered it not even Someone nor my brothers. What’s inside are matters of shame and secrets but are also elements I just want to keep to myself. I daresay if I were to reveal some people would be disappointed. Some of The Private Self I think I would share if someone asked me. I might not let people in but I would let items out for viewing before putting back under lock and key. Some elements of The Private Self would be puzzling as out of context they would make little or no sense to anyone. Think of “rosebud” in Citizen Kane: people knew it meant something but what?***

Over the years my blog has slowly evolved from Public Self into Personal Self and I’ve let out a few Private Self. I’ve grown less concerned what people think but some of this is wanting someone to see The Private Self, curious to see what would happen.

I don’t remember now if the author of “The Private Self” thought this ‘bad’ or something off limits to explore in psychoanalysis. I suppose it is up the the analysand to make that decision.

*T.S. Eliot captures this in his whimsical poem “The naming of cats”. In it he explains each cat as three different names: it’s every day name, it’s special name and then there is the name

And that is the name that you never will guess;
The name that no human research can discover—
But the cat himself knows, and will never confess.
When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name:

His ineffable effable
Effanineffable

Deep and inscrutable singular name.

**I once was in the row ahead of a celebrity who was lauded and applauded as she entered the plan. Prior to boarding many sought her autograph (this was before cellphones). During the flight I could hear her anxiously disclosing to her traveling companion her anxieties and perceived failures; she sounded quite unhappy about herself. At the end of the flight she was again all smiles and waves and she departed.

***No spoilers but when the audience finds out what rosebud is it is almost a disappointment as it isn’t anything significant except to Mr. Kane. That’s what Private Self items are.

Spo-reflections on zany brainy actions

In cartoons the brain is often portrayed as the sensible one trying to speak reason to the other organ that are depicted as ‘out on their own” for needs or pleasure. The stomach and the heart come to mind, pun intended. Romanovsky and Phillips have a whimsical song “Don’t use your penis for a brain” in which the former is a mindless (again pun intended) dimwit while the brain is oh-so-quite sensible.

Freud had a lot of ideas that didn’t stand the test of time but one he was spot-on: we do a lot of things unconsciously. Too bad this gem was thrown out with the rubbish like baby with the bathwater. True, our brains are capable of abstract thinking and reasoning but that ain’t half of it. Indeed maybe most of the brain is neither reasonable nor conscious. If the mentioned organs often do dumb things it is because the brain is in cahoots or calling the shots.

We have to face the fact our brain isn’t wired to make us think of the future but to survive. Eating calories whenever at hand, procreating as often as possible, running away to live another day, or shutting down when something doesn’t have immediate pay off – these actions are what the brain does best. They got us successfully down from of the trees and onto to the savannah alive long enough to keep the species going. Alas, Babylon! None of them serve us well in modern times. The brain’s response to an angry boss or someone who disagrees with our political views is no different than an approaching tiger: prepare to run or fight. Bags of nasty chips light up our eyes like the brilliance of a radiant sunrise.

I educate patients on their so-called ‘lazy and bad choices” that at some level they make sense. We eat the entire bucket of ice cream because it tastes fantastic. Lying on the couch scrolling through the phone feels better in the immediate present than some silly abstract notion of getting up to exercise to live longer. Saying this to a brain whose main job is to live just long enough to reproduce doesn’t make sense at some level – the deep down one.

The better angels of our nature as Lincoln called the pre-frontal cortex is what lies on top of the more primitive parts. We learn while we react emotionally we can pause to proceed differently. This shouldn’t be seen as some sort of Jekyll / Hyde model (fun as it is to do so) but a complex system of checks and balances that we have mastery over if we stop to think about it. We are not slaves to the unconscious or cognitive biases as it is called nowadays. The brain (all parts) works with the heart and the stomach and the other bits in a complex system that is marvelous to behold, however Mr. R&P do have a point worth keeping in mind especially when on holiday. 🙂

Sunday Spo-bits

Yesterday we went to two operas: “La Rondine” in the morning and “Don Giovanni” in the evening. “Rondine” was special as I had never heard it before. It was rawther entertaining. If one asked AI to write an opera based on the works of Puccini you would get this. I had some giggles as the maid in the story bore a striking resemblance to Magenta in “Rocky Horror Picture Show”. DG on the other hand is quite familiar. For thems unfamiliar with the opera, a nasty rake runs around trying to seduce women and at the end of the opera is dragged down to hell by a statue (it makes sense in context). I wanted a proper drag down to hell scene and I wasn’t disappointed. Thanks to technology the statue appeared ala The Wizard of Oz and there was lots of fire and demons who were all female probably the women he’s seduced in his lifetime. Afterwards I had an aviation cocktail. Jolly good fun.

Yesterday was the first dip of the year in the cement pond. I don’t remember if 20 April is a record. I didn’t stay in long. It was cold but not icy cold – more like Lake Michigan than Lake Superior. It will be nice to have it again at day’s end for a quick cleanse.

Today should be less dramatic. I have some paperwork to do and there is a pile of unsorted sock high as Fafner’s hoard to fold. Someone likes sock that go up to his calves, which I dislike as they make me itch. Thus, the sorting of socks is easy especially as his are all black. This afternoon go downtown to see “Pandora’s Box” at the Orpheum. It is a silent movie from the 20s about an archetype femme fatale. We meet our friend Christine, with whom I swap books. I will give back to her “The Sweetness of the pie” which was an old-fashioned murder mystery. No doubt she will give me the next in the series. In return I am introducing her to one of my favorite authors, Alice Thomas Ellis via “The Inn at the edge of the world” This sordid tale is about a group of strangers fleeing Christmas to a small inn in northern Scotland. It is one of my favorite books. Like Flannery O’Connor Ms. Ellis never writes any nice characters They say and do awful things set in a place with something supernatural or uncanny (in this case selkies). It is risky to thrust onto another bibliophile a beloved book as a disappointing review can feel and be taken quite personal.

The final Sunday Spo-bit is about allergies. It’s that time of year. A patient informed me an invasive species of the chamomile genus is responsible for this year’s woes. I looked it up: it is a small plant with bright yellow balls on tiny stems. Yesterday while on a stroll I was on the look out to spot any and I did. I was pleased as Punch I identified the plant and I pulled it up feeling good in my duty to combat invasive species. I turned the corner to discover the wash was awash with the plant, looking like clover in “Horton hears a who”. It is not humanly possible to get rid of the stuff. We will have to wait until the temperatures go over 100F to burn off the stuff, which thanks to climate change arrives earlier each year. So there is a silver cloud to global warming.

Spo-bits on a Friday morning

Oh the horror. The Board of Directors Here at Spo-reflections, curious about breakfast cereals, went out on a raid to a nearby Kroger looking for Apple Jacks. They were relatively civil about it (for Vikings) until they discovered there were no Cocoa Krispies and then all heck broke loose. They burned the place down after first hauling away as many boxes as they could carry, leaving behind all the Kashi products.* Not in a good mood they proceeded to slug it out over ‘Post vs. Kellogg’s’ until they were kicked out of their BnB and told not to return. They left a trail of Capt’n Crunch so as not to get lost.

Spo-fans may be wondering how went Wednesday’s deposition. It didn’t happen. After being on hold for twenty minutes someone at court came on line and asked if I was here for Kramer vs. Kramer which I was not. He informed me my case had been dismissed some time ago. It was both annoying and a relief.

The Good Dentist was seen that afternoon. The anesthesia apparently got into my head for I was a bit delirious throughout the procedure. It helped I can go into a dissociative state when needed, which I did. He works best with background music the type I dislike but I had sense to let him work his way rather than insist he turn it off and have him drilling away at me with unconscious resentment. He and his assisted (who was well over four feet) worked on me for two hours although it felt more. I am not sure what he did exactly. Afterwards I felt like someone had slugged my face with brass knuckles. Alas, Babylon! I have to return in a few weeks for a more permanent crown. Oh the pain.

Whether due to the stress or the nasty numbing medicine dripping down my throat for a few hours I had very bad bowels afterwards; I still do. This may be diet though as I allowed myself a kung pao carry out lunch that day after the deposition. I should shun hot peppers and/or cat.

Thursday wasn’t bad other than the lack of sleep from jaw pain and sudden wake ups to dash to the loo. I wore a Spo-shirt to work that day (Frida Kahlo) for which many gave compliments. One patient offered to buy it and I was half-tempted so sell it (having shelled out 1K for dental work) but I’m pretty sure The APA Secret Police has rules against selling things to patients especially the proverbial shirt of your back.

Today is Friday and I don’t believe there are any scheduled shenanigans. The pharm rep is asked to provide something bland and I will wear another Spo-shirt (not for sale) and no Cheerios were consumed in the process. By now the birds have probably ate the Capt’n Crunch crumb trail of TBDHSR so they are probably lost in the woods now reenacting Hansel and Gretel somewhere in The Time of Legends. I don’t envy the witch. If I had her number I’d text her to tell her to lock up the liquor they’re mean drunks.

*Sometimes they are quite sensible.

Urspo eats some cereal

The Board of Directors Here at Spo-reflections knows nothing gets the comments in as much as entries on food and they are never one to miss an opportunity (they enjoy eating as well). They gently nudged me with a pointed stick on fire to write more on the munchies. Spo

I grew up in the 70s which means I spent Saturday mornings watching Sidney and Kroft cartoons which I didn’t realize at the time were shameless means to get children to nag their parents to buy products particularly breakfast cereals. It worked. Brother #2 and I grew up on the stuff. You won’t be surprised to know I didn’t eat just one type but went through several types. This was probably it was the first time in my philosophy to live, live, live by trying as many types of “X” as possible – especially if they came with a prize at the bottom of the box. Hot puppies.

I wish I could tell you there was Rhyme and Reason to what I ate and in what order but I suppose it was influenced mostly by what TV ads were playing and what shiny bright boxes Farmer Jacks placed at eye level. The breakfast cereals certainly didn’t lack variety.* Frosted Flakes and Apple Jack were my favorites. Brother #2 was fond of the Froot Loops. Captain Crunch was a hit especially the one with the small pink balls made from Styrofoam, These were our staples; always good to come back to. There were several that appeared only a short while either they didn’t exist anymore or Farmer Jack wouldn’t stock them. Quisp comes to mind. The cereal itself wasn’t very good but I loved the character. There was another called “Freakies” (if memory serves me right) which sounds disgusting now but as a boy I ate it with relish.

I didn’t like all of them. I didn’t care for chocolate cereals or cereals bereft of sugar. For this reason Cheerios were right out as were Product 19 and Corn Flakes (ugh). Wheaties with its athlete adorned box was of no interest. After all one doesn’t just eat cereal but one reads the back of the box at the same time. This was the original ‘looking at your cellphone while eating’ experience.

I didn’t like soggy cereal; I despised leftover milk in the bowl which Mother made me drink to avoid waste. Therefore I added only enough milk to wet the cereal, being careful the milk and cereal ended at the same time.

I wonder what happened to all those much-coveted prizes at the bottom of the countless boxes? I remember burrowing through Raisin Bran to get to the prized long before the cereal was consumed to reveal it.

Interesting Mother never got us kids to eat hot cereals like oatmeal, Cream of Wheat, or other monstrosities that resembled the stuff Oliver Twist had to eat. I wonder why she didn’t? Perhaps cold cereal was easier for her.

Alas, Babylon! I haven’t had cereal in decades. Sometimes I go down the cereal aisle at Uncle Albertsons to see if any of the old ones still exist. Many do although their covers have changed. The Lucky Charm leprachaun looks to he’s had work done and gone to the gym. Count Chocula has more colleagues I don’t remember. Most cereal nowadays looks to be of the oh-so-healthy type full of fiber and devoid of sugar – sooner I’d eat rats at Tewkesbury types.

I ought to buy a box of something and revisit my youth – preferably while watching HR Pufnstuf. What I really want is one of those ‘variety packs’ of eight single serving boxes that came wrapped in plastic. However among the good ones they always inserted something unappetizing like Special K. I never would eat that sort.

Tell me what breakfast cereals you ate in your youth – do you eat any now?

*Not really though. They were all sugar and flour mixed with chemicals and flavoring. Oh the horror.

World of mine Wednesday’s Ws

What’s top of my mind: A deposition. Later this morning I have to attend a deposition. Happily it is on zoom so I don’t have to go to a courtroom. I am not entirely sure what this is about; it’s probably a custody or capability matter about the patient to see the children or be their own boss. Since I haven’t seen said patient in a long while, all my information is out of date; I can’t imagine I will be much use in the here and now. Depositions make me feel anxious and awful for I am always made out to an imbecile who doesn’t know what he is doing.

Where I’ve been: The freezers (various). At work I am Ice Master; apparently I am the only one at work who knows how to fill and operate ice cube trays. The House Manager used to bring in a bags of ice purchased as the gas station. This was spotty. I proposed she buy some plastic ice cube trays. This works only because I bother to use them. Every morning when I arrive at work I put on water for tea and coffee and replenish the ice trays. The ones at the PHX freezer have a strange phenomena the cubes come with fingerlike ice growths sticking up like frozen seedlings. They are little spooky.

Where I’m going:  The Good Dentist. After the fun of the deposition I go to The Good Doctor for another crown. This will cost a lot of money and just after we bled our bank account dry paying taxes. Oh the pain.

What I’m watching: Type II Diabetes. Despite thirty years in the business I have never gotten the hang of this malady particularly the molecular and physiological components of the disease. It’s important I keep up on the disease as many patients have DM II and many of the meds I prescribe could contribute to such. It’s a grisly condition that effects every organ system. My labs are always on the edge of stepping over the line for The Good Doctor to make me take metformin. Oh the embarrassment. Happily common sense interventions help like eating a proper diet and partaking in regular exercise and avoiding nasty chips.

What I’m reading: Glimpses. Hugh, who is Blog Master (do not dare to question this), has written some books including this one. I downloaded it into The Kindle and it is next in line for reading. It feels a bit awkward to read a friend’s books; it’s like reading someone’s diary. On the positive I get to know him better and he earns some money (I hope)by my buying it.

What I’m listening to: Japanese. I was on Duolingo the other day when instead of practicing Spanish, French, and German I opened up the Japanese. In every language I have studied the usual first words are man, woman, girl, boy, dog, and cat. The first words in Japanese are for water, green tea, sushi, and thank you. Curious.

What I’m eating:  Meatless sausages. When I lived in Chicago I was a vegetarian for awhile. For breakfast I used to cook meatless sausages. I still have a memory of snow falling silently outside the kitchen window while inside there was the smell and warmth of the ersatz piggies frying in a pan. They weren’t that tasty – Bob Evans beats them but a country mile – but I put hot sauce on them and ate them with relish. The other day I bought some. They taste no different (or better) but when dabbed with a little Melinda and I am back at 1532 Hood Ave. with my two cats Claudius and Tiberius on a cold snowy day in Chicago.

Who needs a good slap:  A commenter on The Book of Faces. A friend on FB posted a cartoon of people around an enormous scrabble board. The punch line: “Welsh Scrabble”. In the comments I wondered if there is such a thing as a Chinese scrabble. Someone I don’t know commented didn’t I know Chinese isn’t one language but eight? Mind! One cannot certain of the tone in a short written comment: perhaps he was trying to be helpful and educational. Maybe, but I felt was a criticism along the line ‘don’t your know anything?”

On a 1-5 scale I give Mr. Comment one slap.

Who gets a fist bump: My friend Tom. My friend Tom and I made provisional plans to go out to the theatre last Saturday. He texted me on Friday he had to get back to MN for a funeral. I figured that was that however he texted me late Saturday afternoon he was back and despite the jet lag he was still wanting to go. I had about ten minutes to get ready and it a pretty safe bet we would fall asleep so I almost said no but then I said yes and we went. Not only did we stay awake it was a good show, “The Master Class’. Thanks, Tom for getting me out.

What I’m planning: Thinning out the ‘to read’ shelf. There are way too many books up on the ‘to read’ shelf. Some of them have been sitting for years waiting for me to pull them down. Many have gone from ‘I want to read this sometime’ to ‘I feel obliged to read you even though I don’t want to anymore”. I suppose I should at least start reading them to see if they grab me.

What’s making me smile: 1000 island dressing. I recently heard a podcast on the topic of the history of 1000 island dressing. It is something I associate to summer picnics in my youth, seen on Cobb salads and such. I’ve been recently on a ‘foods from my past’ kick, so I thought to buy a bottle next time I visited Uncle Albertsons. Then it dawned on me to search for a recipe. Hey! I got all the ingredients at home; no need to buy a bottle! What I made doesn’t quite taste what I remember but I think this is the recipe not my memory. I guess I liked it. I had better for I made enough to make enough Rueben sandwiches to feed an army.

Curious things about the house #83

I remember as a little boy going grocery shopping with my late Mother. Back then she went to Farmer Jacks. Mr. Jack placed many interesting items at eye-level for someone my age to look at and ask if we could get it. The usual answer was ‘no’. I remember a few times she said ‘yes’ to Nestle-strawberry Quik and some cereals there were being flogged on Saturday morning. For the ‘yes’ items I suppose she was pleased I was ‘trying new things’ but I think she secretly hoped if I got them once I wouldn’t like them and lose interest. She was correct; these were usually a disappointment.*

I remember most were the products that looked intriguing but she wouldn’t buy, even when I saw it again and kept asking for it, like Hillbilly Bread. I tried a few approaches (bargaining and whining) but to no avail; she was inveterate against such purchases. I remember vividly Underwood deviled ham spread. I was fascinated by the red devil on the label. He resembled “Hot Stuff” which was a comic I was reading at the time. I forget the reason(s) why she would not buy it. In time I stopped asking either I connected the dots it wasn’t going to happen or I lost interest. All my life I’ve seen it in the grocery and I wondered what it was like. The same red devil kept calling to me to try it. A few weeks ago I saw him again among the tinned meats. I am sixty-two and I thought: I am going to try it. I put a tin into my cart while mother’s ghost raised her nose in that way she did when encountering something disgusting.

Someone questioned the purchase. By now he is used to me bringing home items not on the official grocery list. I explained the tale. He said I was welcome to have it all which is an indirect speech act to say he’s sooner eat rats at Tewkesbury than mystery meats. I forgot about it for awhile but remembered it yesterday so I got it down and opened it.

I wondered if Beelzebub (or someone like him) would come roaring out and say at last I got you! and drag me down to that level of hell where they serve lukewarm tea made from teabags and Anita Bryant records play nonstop. What I saw inside was a pink humongous wheel of meat the type one sees when opening a tin of very expensive pate de foi gras or Little Sheba cat food sold at a clearance sale. It had a slight ‘meat’ smell but it was not spicy. Apparently ‘deviled’ isn’t taken seriously or Lucifer doesn’t live in Arizona where ‘hot’ is taken seriously. It is spreadable rather than in chunks, again looking like cat food or imperial tidbit pate. Normally this sort of thing makes Harper come a-running to see if there is any for her but she did not do so. I toasted a bagel and spread some on and gave it a taste.

After sixty years I don’t know what I imagined it would taste like. It had a slightly salty sweet ground ham taste without any ‘spice’ at all. It wasn’t complex nor unpleasant. It was more or less ground ham or SPAM – easily created at home in a meat grinder and with proper spices including a good amount of chiles. It was a bit of a disappointment. Afterwards I read the ingredient label, something I never bother doing in my youth. The small tin has ‘two servings’ (ha!) which when eaten together more or less wraps up the day’s allowance for sodium and fat. I am curious to go on line to learn its history and are there recipes using such.

I am glad I did this although I don’t think I will buy any more. I hear the devil laughing at me for falling for a false hope. All the same I have the quiet satisfaction of empowerment that comes from getting something you were once denied by mother.

I wonder if they still make Hillbilly Bread or Quisp cereal.

Anyone else ever try this delicacy?

* I don’t remember any she obliged me to consume ‘you wanted it you are going to eat it”. Mommie Dearest she was not.