Whoops

Missed posting yesterday. I was organizing documents; so sue me.

Extra! Extra! Can I bargain for extra?

I was a hit; I was a hoot. The publisher liked me. Otherwise he’d never have had the managing editor contact me to set up a follow-up interview the same day.

The job is familiar, I feel I’ve done this before; even the interview coincides with the one I had this time last year when it was either editor or cook in Alaska. The pay’s the same. I made more in four months working a sauté pan in Alaska than I would in a year as a newsman. Yet, there’s something appealing in finding something no one else knows about and transforming it into something everyone in town’s buzzing about, the same way on that island last summer I could always find a spot to be alone.

There’s a privacy about writing news. You’re an unobserved observer, a painter who seldom signs his work. It’s a quiet living, social and political storms swell and subside; it’s impossible to please everyone, but the stories are always positive. In local news your beat becomes a foster home, the pleasant people are a foster family and while you can’t call it fame, the subtle recognition is nice.

But since I have experience shouldn’t I hold out for better pay? Should I say I need more time to decide? I always jump at the first offer, even if it’s a consolation prize. I’m never the guy with three offers on the table, tasting them to see which is the sweetest. But maybe I can string the paper along just long enough to gain some leverage. I was offered an almost identical job last year; it’s time to see what I’ve learned.

Big day tomorrow

I got an interview bright and early tomorrow, so I gotta prep, and by prep I mean watch TV and go to bed. I don't brush up before interviews and I've never been interviewed and not offered the job. Sound overconfident? Maybe you're underconfident.

Don't leave your kitchen/restaurant supply store without it

Vital utensils

From the obvious to those “dang, I really wish I had a _______ right about now," here’s my must have bare minimum kitchen tool set. None of these are appliances or specialty items; I’ll get to those in another post.

1-4 silicone spatulas grandma didn’t use ‘em because they weren’t yet invented,
but if they were, she would’ve; granny might’ve gotten herself
a nice fake pair of—well, maybe not

1-4 wooden spoons some applications just call for these good ol’ fashioned
mainstays; mama used to whip us with these things, but I still
like ‘em

2 traditional flat spatulas one sturdy steel for scraping debris off steel and cast iron pans and
one sturdy plastic for your nonstick surfaces; also good for flipping

2 wire whisks one medium and one large, make sure the wires are nice and
tight; they can be used for everything from custards to sifting;
don’t bother with plastic whisks

2-4 pair tongs at least one stainless steel, 2 if you like one long reach and one
short grabber, they last forever; a nonstick if you do a lot of
nonstick cooking, that should do it, 4 pair are for folks who
really like tongs

1 large ladle some soups you really can’t just pour out of the pot

1 slotted spoon for food fishin’

1 potato masher you like mashed potatoes right? homemade applesauce? Then
you’ll want one of these.

1 box grater shredded cheese, thin cheese slices straight from the block,
grated carrots and grated ginger are impossible without this;
do get a solid grater, with a curved face if you can find it,
don’t bother with graters featuring a cheese catcher; just put
parchment or plastic wrap under the grater and go to town!

1-2 peelers I like those Kohn Swiss made wishbone shaped peelers that
rust in a week (just rinse and hang dry), but any $3-4 potato
skinner gets the job done

1-2 paring knives one big one small; if I had to choose I’d pick the small

1 chef’s knife one should do it; I like the ten inch model; paired with your
paring knife you’re ready to slash up just about anything

1 bread knife not absolutely necessary, but unless you get all your bread
sliced at the store or would never dream of baking your own
bread, you want one of these; go for one with an offset handle,
they’re comfortable and give you leverage.

1 liquid measuring cup not necessarily a utensil, but it's not gadget either, so it's worth
mentioning; a four cup or quart capacity should do the trick

measuring spoons 1 Tablespoon and 1 teaspoon are not the same; until you’re
good at gauging seasoning amounts, you’ll need these, a must
for bakers

dry measuring cups that mac and cheese recipe calls for ½ cup flour, or about a
handful, but whose hand do they mean?

That’s my list, anything else as far as I’m concerned is a luxury item, I know because I hat to stock a kitchen recently and I purchased the above utensils. If there’s anything missing from my list, let me know.

If a fence falls in the backyard, can you fix it?

Robert Frost’s cold companion was right: good fences do make good neighbors. On the other hand, 50-mile an hour winds and fences are mortal enemies.

On St. Patrick’s day, an ailing fence in my backyard finally fell, exposing the backside of my house to my accommodating neighbors. These gracious folks permitted me to work on their side of the fence, to fix up the rickety old planks. They even let their friendly dog out to help. Accepting that bungee cords and old reliable duct tape wouldn’t quite do the trick; I called up great uncle Frank Reith.

Syracuse Wire and Fence Company; founded by John Frank Reith, and carried on by his sons— brothers Frank, Henry and my grandfather, Chuck; flourished in Syracuse for 65 years. Throughout their years manufacturing and servicing chain link fences, the Reiths always worked without pay for any religious establishment, be it Synagogue, Church or Temple. They provided pro bono labor to their extended family, including my grandpa Russell Morton, who offered money every time, which Frank and grandpa Chuck Reith refused every time.

In Frank’s dictionary there’s a void between ‘retinue’ and ‘retook’ where the word ‘retire’ should be; at 80 he’s still hard at work. Decades of laboring from daybreak to sundown have taken their toll on Frank’s back, so I had to swing the sledge[hammer]. At first I was awfully shy with the sledge; if fencing is in my blood, I think it skipped a generation. But with the fence’s salvation on the line, soon I was hitting the fence posts good and square, living up to my name. So, anyone need a fence fixed? That is, after the soreness subsides.

Thanks to video games, the Internet and other diversions that coop us up in the great indoors, handy work is mostly lost on my generation. Sure, we mow the occasional lawn, but desperation sets in when we see woodwork in disrepair. For example: I did call my 80 year-old great uncle.

I learned more than how to mend a fence; I witnessed a chapter of my heritage first hand. Without great grandfather John forging Syracuse Wire and Fence, my family wouldn’t be where we are today.

At sunset, the fence was stable again, so we called it a day and warmed up with the help of my
four-cup Krups. America’s blue collar has frayed. The factories and mills of Syracuse’s salad days have wilted, the city’s small businesses are suffering and a new era is reported perpetually on the horizon. In just a score shy of a century, Frank has seen his fair share of changes, but my great uncle still takes his coffee black and still tells it straight. Exported labor makes it hard to make an old fashioned living. And homemade dollar disasters, such as Destiny, USA, worry Uncle Frank. Nevertheless, his example proves economic shifts are no match for an honest day’s work.

Bad Poetry: Spare yourself, don't read this

Ehhh... I had to write something; this is something.

In moon boots and in cahoots
Sharing secrets with the moon,
it’s full and there are no clouds; the moon can’t turn its back on me.
The moon has more mysteries than the sun and more admirers,
nocturnal animals conspire to the moon; it lights their sinister deeds.
See it in the day indeed, shepherding the tides,
she cries “oh my!”
caught in the moonlight, in disguise, by surprise,
the moon, the witness that never tells.
The moon, recipient of howling astronauts who metamorphose into monsters
The moon, filled with strange creatures that harbor stranger secrets.
Shed some light, on the night,
shed some light, on the night,
shed some light, on the night,
in the morning it’ll be all right.
But for now we’ll
share our secrets
and
spill our guts
to the moon.

Blogservations v2.1

Yes, it's Sunday, and you know what that means. Here’s some blogservations, questions and predictions I pondered this week. Most are still a mystery to me.

Blogservations

It’s your fault you’re late. Deal with it.

Turn signals seem to mystify most drivers, so I’ll clear it up: flip the switch up for right and down for left. Do this every time you’re about to change direction, preferably before mid-maneuver.

There are too many “greeting cards.” I got a greeting for you, “Hello, jerks, where the HELL are the birthday cards?” Although my cousin’s cousin’s vocational school graduation is important, I just want to send a birthday card. It’s already late; can’t this be a little easier?

Boring commercials (usually car related) are ruining television. Let’s march on Washington demanding they stop; I’ll lead.

I believe in mind reading, and— —yep, so do you.

Pet owners are cooking three course meals for fido, but pumping their brats full of Hot Pockets and Pop Tarts. Oh wait; the dog might actually contribute something to society one day.

Questions

Will I ever get a job I enjoy? Because, if I don’t land one soon I’m just going to find some cubicle somewhere and do whatever the hell I want. It’s a free country.

Does anyone read this nonsense?

What’s the latest whiteout innovation? Where can I get a hold of that?

What are TV and other appliance repairmen doing now people just buy new instead of getting electronics fixed?


Predictions

2-D animation will make a comeback.

Entire cities will be recalled as defective, starting with Salt Lake City, Utah.

Technology and humans will integrate. See: “Robocop” or “Terminator.” Or, actually, just take my word for it.

Stranger things will happen.