"Drive For Pride" -- Do It Or Drop It

Boy, oh boy. Another day has come and practically gone. I've really noticed over the last year how hard it is to write a daily thing. And that's really true when you're seeking to put forth something that will do people a lot of good and you know that so many people are counting on you. It's tough.

I remember seeing some footage on TV once, where a helicopter was swooping in to help some people in dire straits, and the guy dipped the thing a little low, while they were throwing out the rice, blankets, and beer, and the frantic natives grabbed on to it and I believe pulled it down. They either pulled it down and it crashed or the pilot lifted it and shook them off and flew to safety.

Regardless of the outcome of that particular incident, and I'm sure it's been repeated countless times in every disaster we've had since the invention of the helicopter, that's how I feel when it comes time to serve the public in this daily column. It's tough to swoop in, then see that the need for pride, confidence, self-esteem, and a basic understanding in the lifestyle sciences is so great that one man can barely keep up, let alone that man being me. I haven't really had the training -- I'll admit it -- but my intuition (and experience) is pretty good on a limited basis.

But I take the responsibility very seriously. I do not want even a baby bird to suffer, so of course I feel a lot of sympathy for the seething masses at my door, in a manner of speaking. Nature has her way. I can't help every baby bird, so some are going to be missed. Yet how precious is each one, and certainly that goes for you and the thousands of others who show up at this blog everyday for help and guidance.

(You and I are something of a team. So let me ask you, and I'm not going to be checking your answer to see if it's true -- I'll just trust you -- have you bought a book or something that I've been advertising through Amazon.com yet? It would be good for my own well being, in this case financial, since Amazon and I are partners and we split the money 50/50, or some other percentage, 85/15 or 90/10. One of those I get, but which I still need to find out. Today's ad is for a Feng Shui book. We used to mince feng shui and mix it with chop suey ... very delicious.)

Anyway, the bottom line is this, I'm seriously thinking about -- even pushing for -- a return to the "Drive for Pride." At the very least, I promise that I won't be dangling it before you forever. It'll be known in the next few days, so thanks for your patience, whether it's going to happen. I will make the choice, either to do it or drop it all together.

I believe my choice essentially is being made for me, because, again, you are in great need.

No "Drive For Pride" Review Is Possible

I have determined that it is impossible for me to do a full review of the "Drive for Pride" project as it existed in 2009.

I looked back through the archives for a few minutes, refreshing my memory on certain aspects of the "Drive for Pride." It looked more extensive and more complicated than I remember writing at the time. At the time, I felt like I was master of the whole scheme. And I guess I was, since it was in the moment. But now that that time has passed, and I don't regularly read my own writings in the aftermath, just looking at it, it looks momentous, huge, and imposing.

The short answer is it is impossible for me, with my busy schedule and current interests, to engage myself and take the time to do a full review of the project. Earlier today I thought that would be helpful for myself and the readers of this blog. Obviously it would be helpful, to help get us all on the same page. Because maybe your memory is like mine ... and a refresher on the whole thing would get your back up to speed.

I really would like to do it, but as I've said, I feel that it's impossible.

Right off the bat, when looking at it, I noticed something interesting. Everything did not come to a screeching halt when I was criticized about whether spines can be made of steel (a figure of speech) or whether they should always be considered bone (as they literally are). When I reviewed some of the archives today, I saw that I continued on for a respectable little while after that criticism hit the fan.

Which is funny, because that's what I associate with being the end of the "Drive for Pride." Maybe when you telescope it with hindsight, it really was the end. But when you look back at the historical record, there were some additional entries following the brouhaha that her criticism caused.

I invite (and welcome) anyone to browse my archives -- Sept., Oct., Nov. 2009, in that vicinity -- and see what some of the "Drive for Pride" topics were. It's all quite interesting. And if I get it started again -- let's say it happens -- I'll hope to match the quality of some of the posts of those days, posts that I have for the most part forgotten.

Is It "Drive For Pride" Time Again?

I had to look at yesterday's post to remind myself. I came very close there to declaring that the "Drive For Pride" was back on.

For me it's a long time between one day and the next. I'm busy. So I had put the whole thing out of my mind. Then I sat down and it all came flooding back to me, that I had spoken once again on the subject.

It really is, like I was saying last night, like reopening an old wound. It was going great guns there for a while, then the criticism came in fast and furious -- that a spine can't really be termed a "spine of steel," with the hyper-literal objection that spines are in fact bone. That has weighed on me for a couple of months.

I have thought over every possible retort, everything from sarcasm to sincere debate, including some things I copied out of a book on writing about figures of speech, but I didn't say much in response. Instead I just quickly dropped the whole thing.

But, as they say, time heals all wounds. And now this one has pretty much healed, it really could be time to try it again, and hopefully this time I won't open myself up to charges and criticism along those lines again.

That doesn't mean I will be any more careful when it comes to figures of speech, because, really, how can you talk about anything without occasionally having to dip into well known figures of speech? I don't know how. I've heard other people say things like that. "So and so has a spine of steel. He can't be beat." I believe the average person knows what we're trying to say ... and it's not something to get excited about.

It's like saying you're so hungry you could eat a horse, or someone was riding like the wind. It's a form of exaggeration for effect, hyperbole being a good term for it.

I will give it another day's thought. I was thinking about launching into the "Drive for Pride" tonight -- just going for it ... cold. But as it turned out, I wanted to lay this groundwork. It's a way of psyching myself up for it. Anyway, I'm not psyched yet. I'm too cautious tonight. Too tentative. And when I start teaching -- I like to use a little bluster, to have a little kick in my style. That's what drives home the point.

Give me a little more time. Then get your thinking caps ready. Because we'll be right back in the thick of it. Pumping up people's pride, their confidence, their self-esteem.

I Might Restart The "Drive For Pride"

I might, I said. But it's getting late in the day, and I've had a busy day and I'm tired, so I don't know if I can exactly do it tonight.

I'll just put it out there that I might. Restart the "Drive for Pride" theme that I had for a while a couple months ago. It's a possibility, something to hope for maybe.

I hate to reopen old wounds, of course. I have a very sensitive nature, and it was from some unjustified criticism, some hyperliteralism from one of my critics, that the whole "Drive for Pride" went down the tubes. As I recall -- and I have put most of it out of my mind -- I gave it a brave effort after the criticism started, but my heart was no longer in it.

I had a teaching, a theme, on having a spine of steel -- something like that -- and someone took me to task over that! True! She insisted that you can't actually have a spine of steel. Which should go without saying. I think we all know that spines aren't literally made of steel. We do all know that, right? It's a figure of speech, and I knew the criticism was unjustified. But sometimes that's all it takes for me. That's how sensitive I can be. I'm sorry.

So whether I get the "Drive" going again or not, we shall see. A part of me would really like to. Because I remember how many people were helped. I was sailing high for a while. And for the most part I was just winging it. Whatever self-help thing I could think of, just off the top of my head, I was going with it. And as unbelievable as it sounds, I felt like I was really helping people.

I imagine people were reading it and making personal decisions based on what I was saying. And even on the biggie -- the spine of steel one -- I'm sure more people were helped by that than were hurt. I seriously doubt that anyone was hurt by it. Just that one critic, who should've been dismissed out of hand.

But can I do it again? Like I said, I was flying high, winging it. Because I had a lot of confidence. It was a wild time. Like the wild west of imagination. I could do anything. If I get going on it again, I'd like to get that back, and not have to be all tentative and reluctant to express myself, lest I be criticized. Certainly I would probably qualify many things that shouldn't be taken literally. But even that could stifle me. So I don't know.

You might want to check back often and see how I'm doing. It could be interesting. I don't know exactly how I could get going again in the same way. But I'll explore it in my own mental reveries and see what happens.

Maybe it won't be tomorrow. Maybe it will! I could be in a very fresh frame of mind tomorrow. We'll have to wait and see.

The "Drive for Pride" may or may not rise again! If it does, that will be a reason for rejoicing!

I'm A Cool Guy -- Listening To Frank Sinatra

I'm such a cool guy tonight, listening to Frank Sinatra. Yeah, baby.

The guy had real potential as a singer. LOL. And I've got this swinging record. Wow. I love it. The last song I heard "This Town" was a definite swinger. Beautiful.

Some of the other stuff is just exquisite and not so swinging. Still all quite lovely. I don't know why All Music Guide gives this album 1½ stars. They don't say what the problem is. I like it.

The album is called "The World We Knew," Reprise 1022, and what I'm listening to is a stereo LP (record) of it, which I got at a thrift store the other day. Pretty good shape.

The cover of the album is a fairly dreary affair. I see for the CD version they dropped off a bunch of clutter from the cover, which on the original is a real swinging bit of liner notes (on the front!). And my copy has a big huge, 96 point radio station number, since it was part of a radio library once upon a time. This is their LP #341!

Anyway, the liner notes say:

The sun had plunged into the Pacific, somewhere southwest of Bel-Air. In Studio One, Sinatra, like the Pacific, makes his own waves. Fluorescent light turns the singer a slightly tanner shade of grey. And amid this neon's irreverent hum, the singer looks out into the plastic, humming world about him. He stands at the microphone, singing in depth. Doing his best thing ... sharing. Sinatra's songs, soon to scatter worldwide the belongings of one man's soul. He tilts his voice into a microphone, ust as he has for three decades. Decades spent in living in recording, and in singing small but poignant truths about loving. This ambiguous man, with clear, touching insights. Sinatra at a microphone, nurturing a bouquet of emotions, then plucking them in full flower, without first checking for possible thorns.

Couldn't've said it better myself. Fortunately we had Stan Cornyn to write that piece. It would've been fun to be in the recording studio, eyeballing Frank as he sang these songs -- maybe glancing away out of reverence -- then writing something so touchy feely. It's Frank, man. Frank and the Pacific Ocean. Two giants!

I'm actually not a big Sinatra guy. Far from it. But when I hear him, I wonder where I ever went wrong. I should've been. 

UPDATE:  For some unknown reason, the CD of this is over $50 at Amazon. Must be hard to get. But the download is just under $10, so I'd go for that. Except I have the LP and I'm recording it to MP3 as I type.

I'm Not Going Anywhere

Neither of these guys is going anywhere, so can we just move on. Unless we also don't want to go anywhere, in which case we won't move on.

Each one of them had a rough week. I haven't been keeping track. But it appears that Harry Reid made an offensive racial comment about President Obama in 2008. In 2008! So they (the Republican hypocrites) say he should resign now.

Then Michael Steele isn't exactly beloved by the vultures of the Republican party, so they want him to resign, just because he's said a bunch of kind of nutty stuff. They should shut up. That just proves he's one of them!

But Harry Reid says he's not going anywhere. And Michael Steele says he's not going anywhere.

Good for them! The idea in this country that just because you occasionally say something stupid that you ought to immediately resign is stupid itself. That wouldn't be a good use of our resources, our people. Because who hasn't said something stupid?

In fact, the very ones calling for these men's ouster probably would be caught short if we had the chance to examine everything they've ever said or done. Such morons.

A Fascinating Winter Experiment

First, let me just say up front, this is my 666th post at Grandma Slump. Fortunately I have a devilishly absurd idea today to go along with it.

This idea was a brainchild I had last night. It was a scientific experiment that occurred to me just before getting ready for bed. It turned out to be an inconvenient thing, since I had to get dressed again, everything, including galoshes, because it's cold outside. It has to be below zero ... yes, I just checked. At this moment it's minus 4 degrees. And it was equally cold last night, if not colder!

My experiment, now that I'm thinking of it 24 hours later, was probably not that valuable to the furtherance of scientific knowledge. I don't know because I haven't told anyone about it ... until now.

My thought -- and I was expecting the exact results I got -- good scientists always do -- was what would happen if I took a pound of frozen hamburger out of the refrigerator and put it outside over night. Given that it was well below freezing, would the hamburger remain as hard as a rock? Frozen? Would it somehow become even harder than what a refrigerator can manage?

I didn't want to skew the experiment in a bad way, i.e., handling the hamburger too much with bare hands, because of body heat, so I lifted it with some tongs we have and sat it in a bowl. Then, carefully, so as not to heat the bowl with my hands, I put a towel at the edges of the bowl and handled it from there.

Then, outside I went. Bowl, hamburger, towels, and tongs. Very delicately I lifted the pound of hamburger and sat it down in the snow next to the stoop. I was hoping it wouldn't put off a hamburger odor over night, lest a stray dog wander in the yard, smell it, and eat the specimen.

With it securely next to the stoop, I went inside. At that second is when the waiting began, which time I sped up by falling asleep quickly.

In the morning I looked outside for dog tracks. Seeing none, I figured the specimen had to be in place. And sure enough, there it was, still resting in the exact same spot next to the stoop where I put it. Proving once and for all that hamburger doesn't get up in the middle of the night and run around the block.

But that wasn't the experiment. The experiment was to see -- once and for all -- if it had remained frozen and if it was any harder than what it had been in the freezer. It turned out that, yes, on a night when it's below zero, hamburger does stay frozen. But whether it was any harder than what it had been in the freezer, it suddenly occurred to me that I hadn't quantified the exact hardness, because I hadn't wanted my warm hands to touch it.

At this point I decided to rely on past experiences of handling frozen hamburger. When I picked it up, with this past evidence in mind, it was not noticeably harder. It was very very hard, to be sure. But whether you could say it was harder than what it typically is in a freezer, I couldn't discern any difference.

Our Sympathy To Joe Biden

Regular readers of this blog -- especially those with a super photographic memory -- will no doubt remember my post about Joe Biden's mother back in August of 2008.

Looking back, I see I complimented her good legs. And noted that she was a youthful 92 at the time, not quite the mature woman that my Grandma Slump is at 104.

I figured she might go on for many ages to come. But bad news has come. Mrs. Biden died. So our truest sympathy goes out to the Biden family. She seemed like a great lady. We're sure she was.

Catherine Eugenia "Jean" Finnegan Biden: 1917-2010.

Doctor's Appointment Tomorrow

I have one, a doctor's appointment. It's my regular six month checkup. I'm not looking forward to it, but of course I never do.

I've gotten over (pretty much) the whole fear of being stuck with the needle, although it's still not pleasant. The part I'm really not looking forward to it my doctor asking if I've been regularly exercising. Since I haven't. I hate to give the impression that I'm not faithful to doing the right things. But sometimes I'm lazy, or busy, or tired. I have several good excuses, but none of them will fly.

I think I'm still in reasonably good condition. So that's not the problem. And I've been taking the medicine I'm supposed to take everyday. So my cholesterol levels ought to be OK. And my blood thinning is probably OK with the baby aspirin. (Somewhere there's a baby saying, "How come the store didn't have enough aspirin for me? Is some adult using it all up?)

My time for "fasting" is right now ... at the top of the hour. Oh no. I'm never so hungry as when I know I can't have any food. Somehow I need to survive the next 12+ hours without eating. I don't usually eat after 8 p.m., but I'm not usually restricted. Now I'm hungry! Craving something. Soon I'll be asleep and then it'll be OK.

I hope everything checks out OK. I don't want to go back to the 3 month checkups. I should've been doing my exercises. I should've been good! It's too late now! I'll have to go in ... and take my medicine.

The Three Cabelleros

We're three cabelleros,
Three gay cabbelleros,
Three gay cabbelleros are we!

There's one cabellero,
There's two cabelleros,
The third cabellero makes three!

Tea -- The Choice Is Yours

I'm sipping on a fresh, hot cup of English Breakfast Tea, one of the Twinings of London varieties.

My normal way of making a cup of tea is to put a teabag in a cup of cold water and put it in the microwave for 3 minutes and 20 seconds. That's the time I do it for in my own particular microwave, although I was at someone else's place the other day and their microwave was more powerful than mine so it didn't take as long. At 3 minutes and 20 seconds it's still not boiling in mine, but in theirs it was boiling way before that. Whether it boils or not, though, doesn't seem to make any difference.

Anyway, my post here wasn't meant to be a lesson on how to boil water. Most of us know how to do that.

In the course of my 3 minutes and 20 seconds today, I had time to go to the bathroom. Then there was still a little time, so I started reading the tea box, reading the official instructions (what they call "suggestions.") It says, "Pour freshly boiled water over teabag and allow to brew for 2-5 minutes depending on desired strength." That clearly would take a little longer, because you've got to get the water boiling, then wait an additional 2-5 minutes. But there must be some good reason for it. I'll take another sip. It's still pretty good my way, and, anyway, they say it's just a "suggestion."

Also in reading the box, I came across this nugget, and I thought I'd share it: "English Breakfast can be enjoyed with or without milk, sweetened or unsweetened -- the choice is yours."

It's the last phrase that got me. "The choice is yours." I laughed, because of course the choice is yours. I've never heard of the Tea Police who come kicking your door down because you prepared a cup of tea in something other than the approved manner. Some Twinings secret agents, long posing as your friendly neighbors, then, when they've gained your trust, start inquiring as to how you make your tea, all with the purpose of ensnaring you in a confession, complete self incrimination.

Then, after your guilt is determined, they come and confiscate all your remaining tea, and the police sell your microwave to fund their Beverages Enforcement Unit, since it had been used in the commission of a crime. Not only that crime, but the more technical crime of boiling water without a boiling permit, like the way the law says a narcotics offender needs a "drug stamp" before selling illegal drugs.

(My tea's getting cold while I write all that legalese.)

"The choice is yours." Of course it is. But that's just Twinings' nice way of saying it can be prepared several different ways, depending on your own taste. Just because it's called "Breakfast," they say it's "not just for breakfast." OK. Then it can "be enjoyed with or without milk." It seems like we used to put milk in tea when I was a kid, but I haven't done that for years. It'd probably be OK but I think I like it better without. And it can be enjoyed "sweetened or unsweetened." If you want it sweet, put some sweetener in it. As for myself, it all depends. Generally -- this is my typical habit -- I just drink it straight. One thing I hate, though, is sweetened iced tea. It has to be straight! If I ever catch someone making sweetened iced tea, I have my own little police force, and we swoop in and confiscate the remaining bags and microwave, as above.

"The choice is yours." Just make the right choice!

How Can Leftovers Be Any Good?

Whether leftovers will be good or not is always one of my concerns. Generally speaking, I hate leftovers. But then there are some that aren't so bad. It's really a matter of preservation and preparation.

Some things make terrible leftovers. Like turkey, but there's only one day a year that we have to worry about turkey. The rest of the year turkeys are free ranging. I was driving through the countryside the other day and literally saw 40 turkeys up on the hill in the snow. Turkey never looks as yummy as when you see it walking in a field. It makes you feel like a pilgrim, till you're out of sight.

I think hamburgers are terrible as leftovers. Why this is, I don't know, because there are things with hamburger in them that aren't bad. But say you have a hamburger patty, and you put it on a plate, and you wrap it in plastic, and put it in the fridge. When you get it out -- whether a week or five minutes later -- it's going to be terrible. A hamburger patty, once it's been touched by refrigerator air, is instantly spoiled ... even through the plastic.

Yet, and this is a weird thing, hamburger mixed in with tomato sauce, such as for spaghetti, heated up isn't so bad. Of course you're going to lose some of the juiciness and looseness that the sauce originally had. A little bit of water loosens it back up, but you have to be real careful not to put in more than a few drops. It loosens up faster than you think it will.

I went out for Mexican food yesterday, noon -- had steak fajitas. The portions are pretty big. You have three soft shells, plus a big platter of sizzling steak pieces mixed with onion. Then there's a bowl of cold stuff, tomatoes, a little lettuce, some guacamole, some sour cream, etc. And lastly there's a big plate of rice and refried beans. So it's huge. Meaning you can't eat it all, meaning it will be leftovers.

I had the leftovers from this tonight, and maybe it was because I was especially hungry, but to me it tasted better as leftovers than it did originally. I was really surprised. Because I thought, you know, steak is in the hamburger family, and if hamburger goes bad with refrigerator air, steak might have some of the same problem, like a genetic flaw. Like red hair on people.

Pizza I don't especially like as a leftover. And I've had it a million times. It all depends, but it's one of the things that usually is going to be bad. If it's just in the box, it has that inch of air surrounding it inside, which is basically the same as leaving it completely exposed. It's going to be dry, ugly, and unpleasant tasting. If you wrap it in plastic that's not always a perfect solution either, because the plastic and any remaining heat when it goes in makes it wetter and soggy.

The best thing I would suggest is if you live near one of those cryogenics labs, to befriend someone who works there and have him freeze it for you, like minus 40 degrees. Then if they ever find a cure for bad tasting leftover pizza, you can have it thawed out and enjoy it.

I Hope Dogs Can Talk In Heaven

I've been getting a lot of good, quality face time with my dog. Because it's so cold out, below zero, I've been carrying her places, then setting her down so she can go to the bathroom, then picking her up. Her feet get so cold that sometimes she's mincing around and acts like she can hardly stand it. So if I'm carrying her, that's for her benefit as far as the discomfort, and also to my benefit because I hate to see anything suffer.

In all this quality time, I'm busy reassuring her that she's a good girl and commiserating in a gentle way about how cold it is. My face is right up to the back of her head and sometimes her ear. So it's an interesting fellowship. The longer I carry her the harder I breathe, so it sounds like I'm really putting some exertion into making sure she's got all the comforts.

We have lots of other quality time. She's usually on my bed till I fall asleep, then she's off in her own little place on the futon. So it's a very special relationship.

All that to say, I hope dogs can talk in heaven. Because it bugs me that dogs can't talk. The whole silent treatment is almost too much. I would like to have a few words. So let's say dogs can talk in heaven. I look forward to talking it over with my dog, about all the winter mornings and nights, and what we went through.

Have you ever heard that poem "Footprints In The Sand"? Most people have. It's corny. But you can think of it, the same thing, with man and dog and all the snow. "Two sets of footprints in the snow...One, a big pair of galoshes. The other, four little mincing canine tracks. Then, suddenly, the snow reveals nothing but one set of footprints, just the big galoshes, apparently depressed in the snow like an extra quarter of an inch. Why, thinks the dog, did you abandon me at those terrible times on the path, the coldest days of my life? I didn't abandon you, dear dog. It was those times I was carrying you! Anyway, think of it, if I abandoned you, wouldn't there be your own little canine footprints left behind and my big galoshes running the opposite direction?"

We're in for tonight. Thank goodness. She did her business in a good way, so we didn't have to be out there forever. With all the sniffing she does sometimes, you can't depend on her getting done before her feet get too cold.

The Rose Parade Went Off Without A Hitch

Back in September I had the wild idea of a guy sabotaging the entire Rose Parade. I forgot all about it until today when I saw a few minutes of the Rose Parade. Then I suddenly remembered!

Thinking about the guy who might've done it, I'm sure he would've been watching with great interest to see if his little scheme would've worked. Although he probably would've heard of it by now -- that the Parade would've been in trouble -- since he probably would've also had a subscription to the newspaper in Pasadena, or at the very least have been monitoring the news from there by the internet.

If the panic had happened, on the part of float makers, contractors, builders, and all the rest, everything would've had to have gone to pot well before January 1. It seems like they would need to have everything well in place before the beginning of December, because everything has to go in a step by step process to get such a huge production accomplished.

Seriously, I'm glad they were able to have the Rose Parade. It would've been a tragedy if they hadn't had it. 1) They probably would've been looking for me, to see if I had some inside information on the sabotage. Of course I didn't. It was just a thought piece. But that doesn't mean there couldn't be a guy who read my post -- or happened to have the same idea on his own -- who would then want such a scheme to become a reality.

But it'd be tough for him to get all the pieces in place. He'd have to have some dumb luck as well. He would need an awful lot of things to go his way, probably too many, against such a team that the Rose Parade people no doubt have, having 100 years of successful parades under their belts.

Anyway, it was interesting to suddenly remember the whole scheme. And it was a relief to know that the guy didn't do it. There was no guy. I don't know the guy.