Pre-Ramble: So, I was on my way home from a string of errands and had to stop at the grocery store for a few things. I LOATHE grocery shopping, by the way. There has got to be a better approach to that whole urban hunting and gathering process.

I think the Jetson’s had it right … you’re standing on some kind of conveyer belt that takes you over to a button, which when pressed, causes the desired food items to appear in the special chute. Jane Jetson was totally able to bypass the incredibly tedious sequence of grocery shopping steps … so tedious in fact, that I am too lethargic and annoyed to list them for you now.

Note: When you walk into the grocery store, JUST TAKE A CART.  Never reach over and grab one of those little hand-held baskets thinking that you only need a few items — THAT IS NEVER THE CASE.  Don’t set yourself up for the walk of shame back to the front of the store, loaded down with all kinds of random stuff, in front of everyone. (They know you’re going back for the cart.) 

So, I had been shivering all day (springtime in Minnesota) and was going to make chili for dinner. (I make a fabulous turkey chili with secret ingredients in it — can’t really talk about it.) I had 5 or 6 items in my cart (I totally could have gotten by with just the hand-held basket) and was standing in the express line. 

As I scanned the trashy magazine titles, a tallish, disheveled, older man holding two frozen pizza boxes under his arm tentatively shuffled over. His movements were halting and awkward, as if he felt that he was taking up more physical space than he rightfully should. As I inched along, I realized that both of his hands were shaking with what must have been some kind of tremor disorder. I couldn’t help noticing that he was having trouble negotiating the credit card scanner and shepherding his pizzas past the register. A couple times I thought about jumping in to help, but to do so seemed inappropriately disempowering somehow, a violation of his pride and independence.

As we stood across from each other at the bagging station, the man looked at my items and then at me and spontaneously said, “It looks like you’re having a party!”

Puzzled, I glanced back at my stuff … the few random chili ingredients, a box of strawberries, and a bag of tortilla chips. I looked up, smiled and replied, “No, just dinner … ” then added, “You’re the one who looks like you’re having a party … pizzas … my girls love pizza!” 

The man was now struggling with the stack of bags, so I casually lifted his pizza boxes, slid them into a bag with handles and extended it out to him. His eyes now twinkling, he thanked me, explaining that he had recently hurt his back, and how hard it was to do things, and how he was just a mess. 

Smiling back at him, I said something lame like, “That’s gotta be tough.”  He nodded, hands still trembling, and began shuffling toward the doors.

The Take-Away: That brief and seemingly inconsequential exchange was three days ago, but remains fresh in my mind for two reasons  … 1. the act of grocery shopping was profoundly more challenging for this man than it ever could be for me (just quit my whining already); … and 2. the fact that a simple bag of chips looked like a party to this man still makes tears well up in my eyes. It’s a huge reminder of the attitude of gratitude that is so often lost in busy days and weeks. I want to remember to celebrate everyday as a precious gift. And, I wish I would have invited him over for the party.

Pre-Ramble: While researching the recent consumer credit crisis, I came across this photo of the Charging Bull (also called the Wall Street Bull or the Bowling Green Bull), a 7,000 pound bronze sculpture by Arturo Di Modica that is installed in Bowling Green park near Wall Street in New York City. An imposing sort of fellow, the Charging Bull has come to represent the upswing phase of the business cycle (a “bull market”), symbolizing “aggressive financial optimism and prosperity.” 

According to the historians at wikipedia, Arturo created the sculpture following the 1987 stock market crash as a symbol of the “strength and power of the American people.”  Intended as an “act of guerrilla art,” the sculpture was transported to lower Manhattan and installed, with no permit or permission, in front of the NY Stock Exchange building as a Christmas present to the people of New York. Police “seized the sculpture and placed it in an impound lot, until intense public outcry led authorities to release it and install it two blocks south of the Exchange in the plaza at Bowling Green park.”

Hmmmm … really?  A bold symbol of financial optimism and prosperity? Upon closer scrutiny, and in light of our current precarious financial scenario, I’m wondering if we have misinterpreted the Bull’s feisty stance. Note the crouched position around the left front shoulder and the stabilizing effect of the extended right front hoof. Is this the posture of ”aggressive strength and power,” or is it the bronzed interpretation of a torn rotator cuff? Is the great horned head lowered in defiance, or wincing in agony? Is he reared back on his haunches ready to pounce? Or, is he rocking back on his heels ready to fall over? Maybe all of the raucous, unchecked economic growth of the past two decades has finally caught up to this blustery beast.

He definitely looks peeved. Perhaps our Charging Bull is actually staggering in shock as he sees the extent to which his personal wealth has declined in value. Or worse, the “charging” moniker does not refer to swift forward motion at all, but rather the wholesale act of purchasing on credit. Has the mighty Bull maxed out his Mastercard? Does his broken demeanor reflect the crippling effects of big time debt that has befallen so many of us??

The Take-Away:  What if, as in some fantastical piece of fiction, or giant audacious mood ring, the position of the Charging Bull actually corresponds to the prevailing economic situation?  Has anybody been monitoring this creature?  Time-lapse photography would be telling. He appears to be leaning to the left … coincidence? If he starts doing a celebration-in-the-end-zone kind of thing, we may have cause for optimism … Intensive tap-dancing – not so much. If he rolls over on his back, we’re probably in for some trouble.

Pre-Ramble: An article in yesterday’s New York Times describes former vice president, Dick Cheney’s daily routine thusly:

On the mornings he is in town, Dick Cheney wakes up at 6, climbs into his black sport utility vehicle and drives himself to a Starbucks near his McLean, VA, home. He returns with a pair of grande skim lattes — decaf for him, regular for his wife, Lynn — and settles back into work in the sun-drenched office above his garage, penning his memoir in longhand on yellow legal pads.

Apparently, in between drafts, he trots over to Fox News to defend his legacy and fan the smoldering embers of the conservative agenda. Okay, this is fair. Any guy who played a key role in what is being characterized as one of the least successful administrations in recent history, has been linked to some questionable military contracts, and accidently shot someone in the face, has some personal damage control to attend to. And clearly, the Republican Party could use a tourniquet … shot in the arm … some leadership as well.

In his interviews, Cheney continues to reprimand the new administration’s actions, wife Lynn explains, in an effort to remind us that, “particularly related to national security issues, it is important that we don’t abandon [established] policies and that we remember that we are at war.”

The thing is, while national security is a really important thing (I want to be secure and I want our country to be a safe place), I don’t want to be at war. I have to think that there are other ways to address the challenges we face. I have to think that there is room in our arsenal for diplomatic strategies and room at the table for new voices. Far from “telegraphing weakness,” a president who is out there mixing it up with foreign leaders – of all ilk – is a sign of strength, integrity, and bold leadership, actually.

The Take-Away: I don’t know Mr. Cheney personally, but I can see that he is having a hard time grasping the concept that the American people (at least 51% of them) are not interested in maintaining the hawkish stance of the last eight years. In his defense, as a career military guy, Dick Cheney and his buddies at Halliburton see the world through a set of cross-hairs. It’s their default mode. Hopefully, it is an outdated mode.

In an effort to be a fair and balanced citizen, I’m looking forward to reading Mr. Cheney’s memoir and getting a better understanding of his perspective. In the meanwhile, all health conditions aside, he might want to dump out that decaf and move into the next eight years with something with a little more zip.

Pre-Ramble: Yell the word “bacon” in a crowded room, and conversation will hush — half of the people will turn with a look of recogition that says, “you are one of us” – the other half will look askance as though you’ve just committed some foul breech of personal etiquette. I will venture to say that beyond a mere culinary preference, an affinity for bacon represents a lifestyle choice.

So, as a closet bacon aficionado for the last 25 years (at least that’s all I’ll admit to in this forum), I’ve noticed over the past couple of years that bacon has become an uber-trendy darling, not only to the foodie crowd, but among a variety of other fraternities as well. Not even the very popular olives and cupcakes have busted through the boundaries of the ordinary foodstuff to become the versatility player and cross-over talent that bacon has. 

Author Joanna Pruess says it best in her homage, “Seduced by Bacon,”

Although 71 percent of bacon is still eaten for breakfast and brunch, it has recently stepped into the limelight as a culinary superstar. Led by a charge from creative cooks and chefs … this once humble staple [is now featured] in dishes that are served at all hours of the day and evening and at some of the finest restaurants. Ounce for ounce, slice per slice, no other quintessential ingredient has the seductive powers of bacon. 

Here, here!!! No truer words were ever spoken. This “seductive superstar” comes in a wide variety of flavors conjured up in smokehouses all across the country. There’s Applewood Smoked, Cinnamon Cured, Peppercorn, Cob Smoked, Hickory Smoked, Maple Cured, Garlic Clove, Hickory Juniper and even Jalapeno Smoked bacon. Consult the Grateful Palate’s Field Guide to Bacon for an exhaustive list of bacon options.

Polarizing pork:  And, it’s not just fabulous by itself, bacon in combination with other foods is downright tasty as well. Beyond its workhorse roles in the BLT or as a companion to eggs, bacon has become the favorite foil to all sorts of unusual food fare. Last year’s Minnesota State Fair featured a new controversial food-on-a-stick — Famous Dave’s Pig Lickers … dark chocolate-covered crispy bacon pieces sprinkled with sea salt (because bacon isn’t salty enough). Some hailed its praises, others spit it out.

It’s everywhere.  Moving comfortably among both food and non-food venues, bacon can be found in the most unlikely places. Alongside the Oxford Classic Edition of The Major Works of Sir Francis Bacon on Amazon, for example, are twenty-five other “bacon” related products including bacon dip, bacon popcorn, bacon chocolate bars, bacon flavored jelly beans (in a bacon shaped collectible tin), a bacon wallet, bacon action figures, bacon bandages (I have a pack of these – positively grizzly), and the seriously misguided bacon air freshener (who wants a car that smells like you’ve just driven through a grease fire?)  Between you and me, the biggest down-side of these applied bacon products is the decidedly unphotogenic properties of meat.

The Take-Away:  Let’s face it — like name dropping the Octomom or Susan Boyle, writing a blog about bacon is a cheap stunt. It is so easy to piggy-back on the near-sacred reputation of this delectably salty, crispy/chewy delight. I fess up to the fact that pandering to the weakness of the hog wild set is a shameless act. Bacon makes desperate people do desperate things. My bad. (See there — I hate it when people say, “My bad,” but I just said it … clearly a desperate bacon-induced lapse.)

Post Note: One of the best presents I’ve ever received was a subscription to the Bacon-of-the-Month-Club. Every month, a knock would come on the door, and there would be my UPS man, smiling that knowing smile as he forked over the special chill-pack box. Bacon in the mail = heaven on earth.

Pre-Ramble: Hi everyone – it’s me, Daisy!  It’s been forever since my last posting, so I thought I’d weigh in with a few tips for the new First Canine, Bo. According to a recent White House blog, Bo, a Portuguese Water Dog, is a gift from Senator and Mrs. Kennedy to Sasha and Malia. How thoughtful. Apparently, the Kennedy’s have a bunch of Water Dogs over at their house. 

Great name choice, by the way … it’s short and snappy and easy to say in a variety of intonations, like the chipper, “Good dog, Bo!” … or the executive, “Come over here, Bo!” … or the punitive, “Bad dog, Bo!” … or the ominously stark and foreboding, “Bo-ooo.” 

Like myself, Portuguese Water Dogs make excellent companions; they are “soft, cuddly, cute, loving, independent, and very intelligent.”  Unlike myself, Water Dogs are excellent retrievers and and easily trained in obedience and agility skills. Okay, so, Bo, … listen up, buddy … take it from someone older and wilier… here are a few general tips to make the puppy-hood experience a little smoother for you:

• “Sit” is the default mode – If you’re confused about protocol, just lower your rear end into the good-dog sit position and wait for further instruction.
• If it falls on the floor, it is now technically in your jurisdiction and you have full authority to eat it.
• Just spit it out — If you get into a situation where you have inadvertently bitten, chewed, slobbered on, or otherwise made an unwise decision about something that ends up in your mouth, just own your mistake, spit it out onto the carpet, and assume the default position (see above).
• Rookie mistake – pooping in the house. Next to chewing up priceless national heirlooms, this is the least acceptable thing you can do — ’nuff said.
• Dude — really??  I read that the Portuguese Water Dog was originally used in Portugal (duh) to herd fish into nets and act as “ship-to-shore couriers.”  The dogs would ride in fishing trawlers through the icy Atlantic Ocean to the “frigid fishing waters off the coast of Iceland.”  Fishing trawlers?!?  Icy water??  First of all, there is absolutely no reason a dog has to get their paws wet. Secondly, nothing smells worse than a wet dog – except a wet dog with a dead fish in its mouth. Fishing is out, swimming is out, and cold weather is out (unless you have a Land’s End squall jacket like mine; good to 20 degrees below zero).
• Retrieving is a no-go – If the folks want to throw it, they can go get it. Simple. They’ll make all sorts of noise, pointing and flailing around at the rubber chew toy (yawn), but after a few sessions of you not buying it, they’ll eventually go off and busy themselves with something more meaningful.
• Four on the floor — Sounds like your breed likes to jump up on people in friendly greeting. BIG MISTAKE. People hate it when muddy paws trash their best “going to meet the President” clothes and you’ll just end up in your crate.
• Ditto for dancing along on your hind legs with nose above counter level, a.k.a., “counter surfing.” I can’t discourage this behavior more strongly.  Trust me on this, Bo – snagging people food off the kitchen counters is totally a “bad dog” move and will result in a stern talking to, or worse. I once ate two dozen Krispy Creme donuts from an unauthorized location and ended up retching on the front lawn.
• Nobody’s fool — Man-up there, Bo! DO NOT …, I repeat …, DO NOT let the staff dress you up; (that unfortunate picture of you in the Hawaiian flowered thing was all over the Internet …)
• Manipulating humans is a piece of cake – If you want something, just plant yourself in the sit position (see default mode above) and make solid eye contact with the nearest human (if you can identify the weakest link, so much the better). Once you’ve got an intensity stare going, cock your head just ever so slightly to one side and give the tip of your tail a little wag. Humans think this is the CUTEST THING EVER and will fork over treats, snuggles, walks, keys to the motorcade … whatever you want.

The Take-Away: That’s it for now — you’ve got a lot of sniffing around to do. I’m guessing plenty of people have been trying to mark their territory over there.  And, I’m sure the Big House has wifi — when you’ve had a chance to bone up on the latest technology, let’s Twitter.

Post Note:  Get some security clearance, and I’ll send you a couple of fresh chipmunks.

Pre-Ramble: Of all the things on my list of Things to Worry About, pirate attacks has never been one of them – which is why the recent hijacking attempts in the Indian Ocean are so unfathomable. Who would think that in this day and age, a scenario which has largely been the stuff of backyard games and blockbuster Hollywood movies is actually a very real threat to the safety of international shipping crews on the other side of the world?

Just last week, the cargo ship, Maersk Alabama, was carrying 4,100 tons of corn soya and 990 tons of vegetable oil to the Kenyan port of Mombasa as food aid for children in Uganda and Somalia when it was attacked by pirates.  The ship’s captain, Richard Phillips, valiantly offered himself in exchange for the safe release of the crew. The entire world watched as the situation played itself out; the U.S. Navy, Navy SEALS teams, the FBI, and General Petraeus were involved, culminating in a heart-stopping rescue just yesterday.  

According to the International Maritime Bureau, pirate attacks have been on the rise, topping 190 attacks in the Gulf of Aden and western Indian Ocean since 2007. The very informative Cecil Adams of The Straight Dope, suggests that piracy had it’s golden age in the early 1700’s when thousands of pirates terrorized ships on the Atlantic Ocean. Adams cites fictional references including Robert Louis Stevenson’s Treasure Island and James Barrie’s Peter Pan which have influenced the modern take on pirates, generating ”the pirate genre’s most durable cliches” including the eye patch, hooks, peg legs, parrots on shoulders, skull-and-crossbones, walking the plank, treasure maps marked with an “X,” and pirate jargon such as “arrrr,” bly-me,” and “shiver me timbers.”  

So, here we are in the 21st Century — how do pirate attacks even happen?  Having grown up on the Great Lakes of Michigan, I’ve seen my share of shipping channels and I can tell you that ocean liners are TALL. Boarding a small boat that is secured to a dock is tough enough — it can only be tougher to scale one of these formidable vessels out on the open seas (it’s not like they are dragging a swim ladder).

And, in the case of the Maersk Alabama, they really didn’t think the whole thing through. I would have liked to have been a parrot on a shoulder in that planning meeting. After all the hardship, what did they think the pay-off would be?  It’s not like that cargo hold was going to be filled with piles of gold coins and loose diamonds. Between the corn and the cooking oil, at the end of the day the only thing they had coming was a life supply of tortillas. 

The Take-Away:  My intent is not to make light of Captain Phillips’ recent ordeal, but rather to explore my curiousity around this particular event and highlight its relative absurdity in contrast to my comparatively uneventful suburban life. It was useful to me to consider the very real pirate scenario in some kind of context. This story was just so bizarre – as if no person deserved to be in a situation that was so dangerous and wrong, and so … fictional.  Also, it was easy to root for the side of “good” here. Far from the literary stereotype or “romanticized, swashbuckling adventurer,” (Adams) David Cordingly characterizes the reality of piracy on the high seas in Under the Black Flag:

“Pirates were not maritime versions of Robin Hood and his merry men … their attacks were frequently accompanied by extreme violence, torture, and death.”

Those pirates were truly bad guys. Thankfully, Captain Phillips has been rescued — well deserving of the hero’s welcome that awaits him.

Pre-Ramble: While fantasizing about spring, I am compelled to consider two bellwethers of the season – spring fashion and mosquitoes. Imagine softly swirling floral skirts, cool pressed linens, a straw hat, beaded sandals … Imagine tiny malicious mosquitoes, lurking in tiny newly-formed pockets of standing water, deliciously twirling the ends of tiny malicious mosquito mustaches … 

Well, so, last week, I was privileged to accompany my very stylish friend to a spring trunk show at the very exclusive Chanel boutique here in town. The show featured Chanel’s newest designs and fragrances. There were impeccably constructed dresses and skirts, matching jackets, extravagant evening gowns, resort wear, wraps, shoes, and all sorts of dreamy accessories, (including a small, totally covet-worthy, black and white leather “lunch bag style” handbag). 

The garments and presentation were lovely. Champagne and diminutive hors de oeuvres circulated on silver trays, while two exotically slender models moved through the room.  I’m guessing that the tufted tulle evening skirt would look entirely different bunched onto my height-challenged mom-frame.  

The Take-Away: At the close of the evening, we were presented with a complementary bottle of Chanel Paris Eau de Cologne (not it above) to take home.  I must qualify here that I am generally adverse to perfumes and scents — I nearly had to chew my arm off the last time I used a strongly scented hand lotion, and will not hesitate to unceremoniously deck the misguided sales associate who tries to spritz me in the perfume aisle. Thankfully, the Chanel cologne was delightful – fresh and grassy, like the crisp outdoors.

Interestingly, upon glancing over the ingredient list, I noticed that next to “alcohol” and “water,” one of the primary ingredients in Chanel Paris Eau de Cologne was “citronellol.”   Citronellol, as in ”citronella”??  Citronella, a.k.a., mosquito repellant?? 

Oui!!!

Opulence meets Outback:  According to my experts at wikipedia, while citronellol and other essential oils derived from the plant species Cymbopogon are widely used as perfumery chemicals, they are also a renowned plant-based insect repellant, classified as a biopesticide with a non-toxic mode of action by the Environmental Protection Agency. ( ! )  That’s right, ladies — Chanel cologne is essentially the designer equivalent of Deep Woods OFF.  Oh, the Boundary Waters are going to be a whole new ball game this year!

And, FYI — Research also indicates that citronella oil has strong antifungal properties and is effective in calming barking dogs. Not kidding.