Duncan's Blog

Sopa de pollo - Karlos Arguiñano ... ¡ Quiero hablar castellano de la misma manera que este maestro de cocina !

It's late morning on a Saturday, and the chicken used to make a vegetable soup should have been prepared late Friday afternoon. Instead, I welcomed the Sabbath at Margarita's Mexican Restaurant where I got chicken picado and albóndiga soup.

The soup is made without a recipe of any sort. I always make sure that I have my major ingredients on hand; celery, carrots, onion, parsnip, turnips, rutabaga as well as the usual herbs such as savory, thyme, bay leaves, paprika, chervil, dill, and marjoram. I don't cook with salt. I generally add a single cube of bouillon that has enough salt for the week!

While I almost always use organic chicken, I am not fussy about the parts I include. In later years, I have taken to just buying drum sticks (legs). More often than not, the bird gets cut from the bone and the meat is recycled into some other dish (chicken croquettes, chicken salad, chicken à la King). Most of my closer friends and blog readers know that I am on a weight watching journey and that I have been using the most tried-and-true method I know; portion control and calorie counting. The tools have served me well and the outcome has been noticed.

"Is Duncan on a diet?"

"Is Duncan sick with something?"

"Is Duncan on Weight Watchers?"

I had lived a vegetarian lifestyle for a number of years many moons ago. I have thought of revisiting it, but I worry about the source of protein. Yes, there is always tofu and there are a wide assortment of beans out there. Other places that are forgotten are lentils, oats, protein-rich vegetables such as broccoli, spinach, asparagus, artichokes, potatoes, sweet potatoes, and Brussels sprouts... There are also milk, cheese, eggs, nutritional yeast that come to mind. If I were to eliminate meat from my diet, it would be with a focus on vegetarian rather than vegan. And I have evolved to a point where I would not advertise to the world what my lifestyle is. If anyone were to ask, I'd like to think I would say, "I tend to shy away from eating meat."
For now I have a larder that is filled with prepared tuna salad in a can and six Ritz-like crackers in a box. I am not restocking the shelves. I will finish what is there and then come up with something different to eat.

.. -- Later that Day -- ..

The chicken soup is done and the chicken was turned into 5 portions of chicken salad. Each serving is 206 KCals. Probably more information than you wanted to / needed to know. The salad is a simple recipe of 2 cups of cut up chicken, 1 cup of diced celery, 2 hard cooked eggs, 6 tablespoons mayonnaise. No onion. No salt. No pepper. I might add a sprinkle of dill when I eat it. Today I pulled out Ritz crackers.

My obsession with food is my own making. I don't share it with anyone else but the gal who is in my Lunch Bunch group. We talk about other healthier diets (Mediterranean looks the best right now). I am so trying to stay away from using the oven in the warmer months. But for now, I will do some research on what is out there. I have already more or less dropped so many things from my life such as red meat, bread, cold cereals... There is always room for improvement

Some folks work well under pressure. Let's leave the vegetables unattended on the cutting board while we sip our coffee by the computer. There's plenty of time to prepare the luncheon box or perform the morning ablutions.
I really do spend a lot of me-time in the wee hours of the morning making coffee, brewing tea, cutting vegetables, spooning portions of this and that into tiny side-dish plastic containers that have matching lids. And I season things appropriately. I clean as I go and I talk to the dog and to the cat as I pour out the food or crush the pills or show them that they are getting fresh water.
I feel blessed with so many things that I have in life; clean running water, gas cooking, electricity, a washer in my home, a portable dishwasher, a shower and tub combination, endless quantities of quality soap and MADE IN THE USA toothpaste.
I have a typewriter and check books that are attached to accounts that have balances. I still own a phonograph and spin vinyls daily. And yes, I even sing along in foreign languages.
I have off-street parking, a vegetable garden, a clothes line, wild parrots outside, and also my fair share of unwanted critters such as squirrels, field mice, possums, and coons. Every cloud has its silver lining.
But it's waxing late even for the early morning and I have produce to pack for lunch and a body that needs cleaning.
Blessed Be.

birthright [ burth-rahyt ]
noun
any right or privilege to which a person is entitled by birth:
Democracy maintains that freedom is a birthright.

Someone once called me on the statement, "He was born Jewish."
"How can you be born Jewish," he asked me.
"Are you trying to be provocative," I asked, "or do you really not know."
"Jewish is a religion. How can you be born a religion?"
I thought before answering because the question seemed so infantile. To be a member of one of the tribes of Israel meant that you had lineage to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Some have converted in order to enter the tribe. Many in my circles were born of two parents who were both of the tribe. The birthright is genetic. In fact, when I took an ancestry DNA test, the result was 98% Ashkenaz.
I have looked elsewhere, but nothing has captured my attention for any long-standing period of time. The Unitarian-Universalist church to which I belong even had to be told not to send me Jewish invitations to Jewish themed events. I had to explain to the minister, if I wanted to engage in a Jewish event, I would go to the genuine article rather than find comfort in a pale U-U imitation of the celebration.
I dabbled with curiosity with the witch and pagan folks. My attention fizzled out. I think the group had members who were more desperate for attention than anything else. And then there would always be one individual (on ZOOM) who had the need to move with the phone or computer. I'd find this action to be dizzying and would have to cover their video.
But as far as the birthright goes, you can hide from people, but not from G*d. So... embrace the birthright.

It's a reference to a Leslie Gore song. There is an obsession with owning pronouns, an honorific attempt at showing respect for the trans/gender-fluid/two-spirit/___ communities and cultures. I'm a cis-male who presents in pants, slacks, trousers and doesn't own a kilt. I wear robes and I have one stretch-band midi skirt that I had inherited from a dearly departed friend.
Since most of my trans or gender-fluid contact has been face to face (inter-)action, there has seldom been need for the pronoun. Or so I thought. I work in a federal agency that provides healthcare to a predominantly male population. When I call the person who is waiting, I will use the title "Mr". When I note that the person is in transition or not presenting as a male, I will just use the last name. However, I am not allowed to address the person by first name and I am then stuck with the question of whether or not the person want to be spoken to with a "ma'am" or a "sir".
This is a new problem for a new era. Sex change operations were not an option when I was coming up. Christine Jorgensen - Wikipedia The Christine Jorgensen story was a sensation in the 1950s for its time. I cannot imagine how troubled that person must have been. But, that is why I don't work in the area of psychology.

That could be said about your age or your weight. Come to think about it, it could also be said about the length of your hair, your height, the number of times you've churned butter while standing, or the count of teeth in your mouth that are really yours.
By 'really yours,' I refer to endogenous dentition that have erupted rather than the replacement parts that have been paid for by cash, card, or insurance.
I don't always engage in activities or behaviors that seem age appropriate. For example, at 63 I have hippie hair. The hair is naturally wavy and the waves are not in synch with one another. So when the hair is brushed or combed, there is always a certain amount of tension against the teeth of the grooming device. The only time the hair flows like silk is when I have just emerged from my morning ablutions and the hair has been treated with some 99¢ Only Store hair conditioner. Then I look in the mirror and say, "Marcia, Marcia, Marcia!"
I'm also quite aware that I have a diagnosis of pre-diabetic. Not sure how long that has been around or how long the HgbA1C values have been used as DM metrics, but they are in place and they are not to be ignored. The question that one bids is, "What's a boy to do?"
Why, the answer is simple : "DIET and EXERCISE!"
At 63--with a predisposition against and abhorrence of breaking into a sweat--the notion of exercise is not even a theoretical possibility. So I ambulate. It has some effect... it just doesn't move mountains.
This is a fascinating subject (to me) and I am certain I will revisit it