We’re about to chow down on romaine, the leafy greens of death.
I understand statistics, so I eat romaine and I don’t play the lottery. My chances of getting sick, or winning the lottery, are vanishingly small.
Debbie works at Arbor Farms Nursery  and every year they have a company party to celebrate Christmas and the end of another nursery season. They do a white elephant gift exchange and this year I was lucky enough to get a good gift, a basket of Burmese goodies from one of Debbie’s co-workers who’s married to a Burmese man.
One of the items in the basket was something called Cake Mout Chout which was described as a dried butter cake to dip into tea or coffee. It was cold and dark and windy and snowing this morning, so I thought it would be a good day to dip some butter cake in tea.
I got the package out and noticed something on it I hadn’t seen before.
Down at the bottom right it says “Suitable for any race & Religion.”
“What a nice sentiment,” I thought, “what a good idea to think about to start my day.” Oh, I know what they mean, it’s kosher and not made with lard. But in these days when I can barely stand to open the newspaper in the morning I chose to see it as open and inclusive, a gentle greeting for my day.
Our country seems off the rails, there’s so much hate and bigotry and misogyny and religious persecution that seems to have become mainstream and acceptable. But I don’t believe that will last, I believe some day, some day soon, America will be a place that fulfills its promise, a place “Suitable for any race & Religion.”
1. Plants, not children.
One year ago on December 1st I made a change. Changed jobs, started working out on regular basis, started eating better.
Things happen slowly, that’s the hardest part. You don’t really notice the changes day to day or even month to month. But looking back over a year you can see good things have happened.
A year ago I weighed 234 pounds. Today I weigh 183. 
A year ago I was doing 2 miles at a 16 minute pace. Today I’m doing 4 miles at 9:40 pace.
A year goes by fast. Looking back at I what I did last year I’m wondering… what to do with the coming year?
1. I pointed out to my son Josh that being proud of losing weight is much like being proud of fixing a bug in my software. I conveniently forget that I caused the problem I solved. But I don’t care, both of those give me a lot of satisfaction.
My mom moved to a smaller place and gave us her freezer. She cleaned it out, but she had a couple bags of frozen fruit that I said I’d like to have: a bag of pie cherries and a bag of blackberries.
Today’s a cold and rainy Saturday so with nothing else to do I thought it was a good day to do something with that fruit.
That’s, from left to right, cherry jam, cherry barbecue sauce, and blackberry barbecue sauce.
The cherry jam is tasty, sweet and tart and tasting like cherries. The cherry bbq sauce is great, hot and spicy with a sweet undertone from the cherries. The blackberry bbq is different, it has smoked paprika and chipotles and it’s smokey and spicy and fruity. I think it will be really good on the right dish, but I’m not sure what dish that is.
Fort Wayne used to have two newspapers. The News-Sentinel, the Republican newspaper, published in the afternoon, and the Journal-Gazette, the Democratic newspaper, published in the morning. Both were managed by the same parent company, Fort Wayne Newspapers.
I used to get both, but back in the late 1990’s when the Republican party went from being the party of small government and low taxes to the party of telling people who they could marry, xenophobia, and objectivism  I dropped the News-Sentinel because their editorial content had followed the party and had become too stupid to let into my house.
Fast forward to 2017 and the News-Sentinel has folded. Despite being in the reddest of red states, not enough people would buy it for them to be able to pay for paper and ink. So they stopped printing. But since they’re run by the same parent company, evidently the now unemployed and unemployable editors of the News-Sentinel needed work, so Fort Wayne Newspapers decided to include their opinion pieces in the Journal-Gazette.
Today they ran a piece by Kevin Leininger  about the woe that will befall us when the millennials come of age.
This piece of garbage will gag any thinking human being, so in the event you can’t get through it, let me summarize: the millennials, those born from the 1980’s through the early 2000’s, are godless socialists who are going to turn America into a Soviet gulag, or maybe even Sweden.
Well, Leininger can have his ignorance and his paranoia. I see a different a world.
I work in the computer biz, so I work with millennials every day. I’ve been working recently with high school kids doing a web design competition .
And the kids are all right. They bring such passion and enthusiasm to their work. These high schools kids do such good work it makes me embarrassed to remember what I did at their age.
And unlike Kevin Leininger they want the world to be a better place: healthier, cleaner, fairer, inclusive.
I’m 60 years old and getting ready to step off the stage, and I couldn’t be more pleased to hand it off to these kids.
1. I.e., they went off the rails on a crazy train.
Crazy, but that’s how it goes
Millions of people living as foes
Maybe it’s not too late
To learn how to love
And forget how to hate
Even Ozzy sounds wise compared to the Republican party these days.
2. A “pompous strutting blowhard” from reputable sources.
3. You can see my company’s logo in the bottom right of the poster. My boss, Linda Passmore, is the best and gave me time off to do this.
It’s a cold and rainy night here. We have a nice fire in the fireplace, the heat and light radiating from the fireplace is so pleasant. It would be more efficient if I’d close the glass doors, but the crackle of the flames and the faint smell of wood smoke is comforting.
Except a few minutes ago one of the logs popped really loudly. We  all jumped.
Owen had been sleeping across the room and when the fire popped he got up and trudged over and flopped down beside me. Clearly I would make sure nothing bad would happen to him.
It was so touching, that complete and utter trust. It’s the stuff of country music songs, but I wish I was the man my dog thinks I am.
1. Debbie, Owen (the Wonder Dog), and me. Spenser, the other Wonder Dog, is deaf as a post. He missed all of this.
Dang, “Manic Thursday.” That doesn’t quite work, and “Manic Monday” is so catchy. Oh well.
Pedal to the metal all day at work, and then over to Mom’s to help with a few things. Home at 5pm and what’s for supper? We had a piece of salmon thawed out , a nice bunch of greens, and some frozen limas. Et voilà!
Basted the salmon with that sauce and put it under the broiler.
Meanwhile I stir-fried the limas , then poured in a cup of chicken broth and cooked them until the broth cooked off. Tossed them with a bit of sesame oil and sesame seeds and we were ready to eat!
We’re eating lighter these days and this was a delightful meal. A bit of protein from the salmon, a lot of veggies, and spicy seasoning to make it all intense and interesting.
1. Thanks to Debbie’s good planning.
2. Minced garlic from a jar and ginger paste from a tube. Am I going to mince garlic and ginger when a deadline is looming? I think not.
3. We had half a lime in the fridge, otherwise I would’ve used a squeeze from that bottle of ‘Real Lemon.’
4. Note to self, thaw the limas first. Otherwise they splatter like crazy when they hit the hot skillet and then the oil in the skillet ignites and then you have a towering column of flame.
I first had cioppino in 1977. Bruce Wright and I drove a pickup load of stuff out to San Diego for my sister Anne who was moving there. My Uncle Dean (one of my Mom’s brothers) lived there and he took us to the Brigantine  on Shelter Island Drive for cioppino.
Cioppino, at least in its roots , is a rustic seafood stew. For a 20 year old Indiana country mouse, it was about the most exotic thing I’d ever eaten.
I make cioppino every now and then, and with the weather turning cold it sounded good so I made it again today.
It’s just a tomato and seafood broth with shrimp, fish, mussels, and crab.  It’s light and tasty and exotic, and for me, nostalgic.
This is how I made it tonight. I’m the furthest thing in the world from an itinerant fisherman, so there’s probably nothing authentic about it. But it was the best cioppino I’ve ever made, and almost rivaled my memory of the Brigantine’s from 1977.
2. In its roots it’s what the fisherman ate, cooking what they couldn’t otherwise sell. Now it’s an expensive restaurant dish.
3. That’s what I had left over after selling my catch at the docks! Hahaha! No, that’s what looked good in our very limited seafood choices here in northeastern Indiana.
I quit day to day farming at the end of harvest last year and handed my part over to my nephew Tom. The farm magazines keep coming though. I don’t generally read them, but John Phipps who writes for the Farm Journal magazines is one of my favorite commentators. So today when a Top Producer magazine (a Farm Journal publication) showed up in our mailbox I flipped it open to the back page where John’s column runs.
(It’ll be available in text format in a few weeks, click the image above to read the scanned in magazine page in the meantime.)
I love you, Tom, but I’m glad I’m out.
1. I in general despise Top Producer. It’s all about glamorizing big farmers. I usually read it just to get outraged.