Duncan's Blog

The mind went a-wandering the other day during a session of heavy petting and French kissing. The room abounded with fleur-de-lis. For those unfamiliar with the term, here is what the WIKI has to say about it:

"The fleur-de-lis, also spelled fleur-de-lys (plural fleurs-de-lis or fleurs-de-lys), is a lily (in French, fleur and lis mean 'flower' and 'lily' respectively) that is used as a decorative design or symbol."

He told me that people had seen one in his home (or somewhere) and assumed that--since he is French-Canadian--he must want them overflowing throughout his home and life. Turned out it was quite far from the truth, but he didn't want to offend the gift giver, so he would take the symbol and display it somewhere. I had a similar event in my life when folks learned that I was born in the Chinese year of the pig and then also learned that I was (at the time) into animal rescue. I got pigs emblazoned on anything and everything.

Pigs, BTW CAN be(come) quite overwhelming in one's life.

But as we kissed and made out among the symbols of his heritage, I had imagined French DNA entering my body. I was now carrying the other red, white, and blue, and thought of mousse, the boat ride on the Seine, and the scene from Casablanca when folks stood up during the rendition of La Marseillaise and sang,
"Allons enfants de la Patrie
"Le jour de gloire est arrivé !"

Of course, this is a wild flight of fancy, since the kisser is not directly from France. Sometimes I wonder if the roles were reversed, what historic images might go through his/their mind during a kiss.... scenes from Anatefka, a fortnight's ship journey across the Atlantic, Hebrew prayer while facing east, or newer images of life in the New World.

Then... when I am composed and more level-headed, I say to myself, "Self! Chances are that most of what you got from this mouth-to-mouth exposure/explosion is residual food scrapings from between his teeth. That would have been taquitos, beans, rice, and some cilantro/culantro.

Just a thought in the moment

All of us have, no doubt, heard that combination at one time or another in our lives. And many of us, no doubt, have responded (or have wanted to respond) with the retort, "Is my closing the door going to make it any warmer outside?"
I'm reminded of the cold from the life I live inside a tiny bungalow in Southern California. I laugh to myself when I think of having lived for over 25 years on the east coast with nothing more than blankets at night and now I struggle to stay warm during the Los Angeles winters with a heating blanket. Fortunately, I have a tea kettle and a THERMOS and lots of caffeinated tea leaves to fend off the chill. I also have a water heater in the basement (yes, I have a root cellar that I call a basement) that keeps my sink and shower water amply heated for consumption and use.
At times I also say to myself, "Perhaps the cold that I feel is due to all of those pounds that I have shed this past year and a half." It's not the kind of thing to say in polite- or mixed-company. Yes, there are scientific studies the correlate the comparative thermodynamics of heat and cold in humans based on the subjects' weights.
From the Handbook of Clinical Neurology, John R Speakman wrote:

Humans with obesity cool less rapidly and have to elevate their metabolism less significantly than lean
individuals when immersed in water. Although obesity provides an advantage in cold conditions it
conversely impedes heat loss and makes obese people susceptible to heat stress more than lean
individuals.

This is not to say that I want to live in a desert or in a tropical climate that has temperatures that are too hot for comfort. I do recall visiting southeastern Ohio one summer in which the great outdoors made me feel as if I were in a sauna. My host had a bed of beefsteak tomatoes that had burst through their protective skin. Hence, my common comment, "A good place to grow hothouse tomatoes without the hothouse."
For as much as I whine about the colder climes, I do remind myself of things that I like and for which I am thankful. There is no apology needed for wanting hot meals, hot soups, and hot drinks. While I am known for drinking hot tea in the summertime, folks tend to think it's more 'sensible' to enjoy the beverage when it's cold outside. I shrug and only comment that it's more important for the teapot and tea cups to be preheated prior to steeping and decanting.
I also flash back on one of the first 'real' jobs I had as a so-called adult. I worked with an anorexic hillbilly bookkeeper who loved to say, "Feel my hands! They're cold!" How does one respond to such a thing? "Keep you f**king mitts to yourself!" "Sit on them, lady!" (although she had an equally bony butt). "Is it any wonder your husband ..." (well, let's not go there).
Time to sit up, take a warm-to-hot shower, drink something hot, dress warmly, and be thankful that you've got blood flowing. It's a lot better than the alternative.

From Britannica :

mushroom, the conspicuous umbrella-shaped fruiting body (sporophore) of certain fungi, typically of the order Agaricales in the phylum Basidiomycota but also of some other groups. Popularly, the term mushroom is used to identify the edible sporophores; the term toadstool is often reserved for inedible or poisonous sporophores. There is, however, no scientific distinction between the two names, and either can be properly applied to any fleshy fungus fruiting structure. In a very restricted sense, mushroom indicates the common edible fungus of fields and meadows (Agaricus campestris). A very closely related species, A. bisporus, is the mushroom grown commercially and seen in markets.

Never had them fresh when I was growing up. Mum would buy them in the can or the glass jar and only pater and I would eat them. I learned how to eat them fresh when I started college and had a roommate who liked them and was quite fussy about their preparation. He insisted that the caps all needed to be peeled. I'd comply and use the skin as compost. Competing was exotic for tenants in a junior-4 apartment in New York City! I'm surprised at how many people hate them with a great passion. One of the oldest vegetarians that i know has a dislike for anything that sprouts (including mushrooms).

I think of them in so many favorite dishes: Barley and mushroom soup, omelets with sauteed onions, a delightful pizza topping, salade niçoise, an excellent part of the vegetable kingdom to use for dipping, minced and used in bread making, minced and used in flavoring butter. Also pairs well with cheese. Can be used with meat, dairy, or total vegetarian menus.

Then there are the folks who are into hallucinogens. Yea, I'm guessing you thought that that was going to be the subject matter of this entry. (Not) sorry to disappoint, but drugs have no place in my life or lifestyle, and I spend scant little time talking or thinking about them. I have never felt the need to take an exogenous substance to alter my state of consciousness. My thinking is, if my state of consciousness cannot get to a different state without a narcotic, then maybe my state of consciousness was never meant to be in that state.

They are almost always in the fridge. I use ceps that are either white or brown and--when there is a little more ready cash at hand--I like some of the larger Portobello mushrooms.

To each his own.

Meaning of "once upon a time" in English
once upon a time
idiom

beginning of children's stories to mean "a long time ago":
Once upon a time there was an ugly duckling
.
happened in the past, especially when showing that you feel sorry that it no longer happens:
Once upon a time people knew the difference between right and wrong, but nowadays nobody seems to care.

It's a very common expression and it's often used at the beginning of fables or children's stories. I particularly like the second definition entry. It is reminiscent of "Once upon a time there was an ogre," or "Once upon a time in a land far, far, away, there lived a fairy prince..." (Hey, it's MY story. If I want the fairy to be a prince, so be it)!

I think about this construct as I push towards the Medicare age in my life because I share my space with a 20-something gay man from Stanislaus County. Culturally, we are like Patty and Cathy Lane (you know, from the Patty Duke Show) and when I think of some of the things that he does and thinks, I know that he is desperate to ask me if I did or thought these same things. This is where context comes into play. I tell him that when I was his age, there were no cell phones, people carried cash (and lots of change of pay phones), there was no Internet, there was no cable, but there was a tad bit of shame about not having a color TV in the house.

I also told him that all of my underwear was white and that I only bought 100% cotton (even though polyester blends were the norm). The only polyester 'garment' that I have ever owned (and still have) are two student nursing uniforms (XL!) that are in the closet. I once wore it to work for Halloween (a day I do not celebrate) and when people asked what I was dressed as, I said, "Student Nurse Polly Esther."

But i did tell him that there were similarities in context that were understandable. I struggled with my weight in a culture and subculture that is driven by body image. I lived an on-again/off-again mostly vegetarian life and I also tried vegan living for a year. At the time I was living with someone and she was faintly curious about it, but quickly dismissed it because I had explained that (a) it requires planning, (b) it requires preparation, (c) you don't have options not to eat what you have made because you don't "feel like tofu", and probably other things for (d), (e), and (f). I had music in my life and I still cling to my vinyls.

Before email there were letters and post cards. I still write post cards whenever I'm two counties or more away from the homestead (although they go to fewer people). I keep an address book in my knapsack and always have first class and postage stamps on hand.

One thing that I STILL find strange about the 20-something lad in my home is that he doesn't drink coffee or tea. I see things in the house that look like soda although I'm never quite sure about what they are. Power drinks? Electrolytic supplements? My day begins with both drinks and i have an assortment of hot black tea on the kitchen counter. It's one of the few indulgences that I treat myself to and I opt for the flavor that "I feel like" in the moment.

I do complement some of my cooking with things that are frozen or canned. I have been known to add tomato sauce to dishes or use a bit of flavored beans to a dish of my own organic beans to add a small amount of the sauce that I don't make on my own. Yes, I would love to have fresh beans, or peas, or broccoli, but they are very convenient when they are packaged in a freezer bag and the body seems none the worse for wear.

Oddly, he has taken toe bringing in Ramen. He did ask if I had ever had it and I told him that I recall when they first appeared on the shelves in the late 70s. I told him that they tasted like a mouthful of the Atlantic Ocean to me and that they were not my RADAR for future consumption.

I am a marathon shopper at the 99¢ Only Store. Unfortunately, the consumer doesn't have much control over what goes on the shelf (let alone what stays there for his/her purchase and/or later consumption). One of my favorite products was PEPSODENT. It was one of the low priced brands sold at the store, but the only one that was made in the USA. May sound a bit fussy to others, but I am selective about quality control of consumer goods that aren't manufactured in my country. Items that contain water are especially worrisome to me.
So I looked online, and I discovered that I could get Pepsodent from Walgreens drug store, but I'd have to buy it online.
I tend to shy away from consuming online. I realize that there are more Amazon Prime people than not these days. I have opted out and I don't feel as if I am experiencing the pinch in any way, shape, or form. This online drug store purchase also came with a minimum purchase price in order for the package to be delivered free of charge. So, I looked around for some 99¢ bars of soap (limited quantities per order) and wound up buying 10 tubes of toothpaste.
Even for a person who averages 6 tooth brushings per day--no, I'm not OCD; I simply brush before and after meals--that's a lot of dentifrice to be stocking in the cupboard. Oh well, it's at lease something that doesn't have a worrisome expiration date, like cottage cheese.
Having favorite products removed from the shelves without a word is most disturbing to this aging hippie!