Crunchy Lunch Anyone?

As I have mentioned before my wife, the lovely and talented, Dawn, and I have been watching a lot of cooking shows recently and we have had some really tasty dishes cross our table as a result. I think part of these new and delicious meals is an attempt to expand my diet beyond frozen Mexican food and Manwich.

Inadvertently, I think that I may have killed that golden (and crispy) culinary goose.

Can I help it if I mentioned a news story that has been voted an appetite killer in our home? Yes, I suppose I can.

“After spending almost two decades underground, Brood 10 cicadas are due to appear in U.S. states between Georgia and New York this spring…”

And Indiana, and a bunch of other states.

It wasn’t so much that I mentioned this story about these pesky bugs, it was that I reminded Dawn about a visit to an Indiana State Park we enjoyed (up to a point) a few years ago.

We had rented a cabin in the Park and were just kicking back and relaxing when the State Park Rangers announced that there was going to be a presentation open to all Park visitors…a presentation of recipes on how to cook, eat, and theoretically enjoy, the millions of Cicadas that were infesting the Park.

If you are unfamiliar with Cicadas allow me to inform you about them.

They are a truly ugly, noisy, and prolific species of insect. There entire purpose seems to be to hatch from their buried eggs by the millions, fly into the trees, bushes, and any place they can. They then start making a loud and annoying mating call (up to 100 decibels). They mate. Then they bury their eggs underground, and then they die. Their ugly little corpses pile up until they are eaten by other critters. Actually, that’s a lot like the life cycle of Hollywood Starlets and some Comedians I’ve known.

The very thought of cooking and eating them is enough to make my body trigger a number of unpleasant reflexes. We did not attend the Park Ranger’s presentation. We’ve never even been back to that State Park.

Now I am seeing news stories about this year’s expected inundation of the ugly little bugs. There are different kinds of Cicadas that have different hatching schedules. Some hatch every year while others stretch it out as long as seventeen years. That’s the bunch we are going to get this year. Billions and Billions of noisy seventeen year old teenagers. Thank God they don’t drive.

Even though the very thought of eating Cicadas does not appeal to me I know that there are some people walking the streets like zombies for whom a Cicada Sandwich sounds tasty. I don’t care if they are crunchy, low carb, and gluten free, I’m not going there. I’ll stick to my frozen burritos and Sloppy Joes.

For those of you who are interested in chowing down on Cicadas I am including some disgusting information for you.

Ordinarily I would wish you a cheerful “Bon Appetit,” but in this case all I can come up with is “Save Yourselves!”

Here is a ten hour loop of Cicada Sounds. Pleasant dreams.

Cooking With Cicadas

Throwback Thursday From July 2016 – “We Have A Solution. Let’s Go Find A Problem For It”

Throwback Thursday From July 2016 -We Have A Solution. Let’s Go Find A Problem For It

I WAS WATCHING TV THE OTHER DAY when I actually saw something new. It was an ad from the Sherwin-Williams Paint Company. They were singing the praises of a brand new product: Anti-Bacterial Paint.

The commercial showed this stereotypical suburban mommy gleefully painting away. She was certainly better dressed for painting than I had ever seen before. There was no drop cloth either, so I must assume that this new paint was also Anti-Gravity and never dripped.

It Could Have Been Worse…No, That’s Not True.

TWO WEEKS IN TEXAS. LET ME TELL YOU. It is a lot like two weeks inside a cement mixer filled with marbles…and the odd brisket…and every microbe in the known universe.

For the entire two weeks my sinuses were in a war of attrition. There were no survivors. My head geysered more extraneous fluid than the Johnstown Flood. I predict that the stock in the company that makes Kleenex will soar like a rocket.

Two weeks in any one location can be a challenge, but spend those weeks in close illness sharing proximity with a couple dozen other people can be a true purgatory experience.

A “Green” Solution

 

THE SOUND OF CRASHING AND YELLING has taken over at the neighborhood Chapel of St. Arbucks. It must be Summer and the Annual Sport of Fly Swatting while having coffee.

The way the Chapel is constructed with doors on opposite sides of the store there is a constant flow of air and flies passing through. With a setup like that and an endless supply of retired geezers hanging out with nothing productive to do you have the perfect ambiance for “The Killing Machine.”

Give those geezers a copy of the local newspaper and the flies don’t have a chance. Just the other day our resident Pickle Ball Champion bagged 14 flies in less than fifteen minutes.  It was like watching the legendary 300 Greek Spartan Warriors slicing up those pesky Persians – without all the leather skirts, and in English.

Lord, It’s The Flies

FLIES! I HATE FLIES! FLIES HATE ME! We have a mutual Destruction Agreement. I try to kill them and they try to drive me bonkers.

With the advent of warm weather the fly population has skyrocketed. It’s either that or they are being imported from elsewhere to torment me.

Something must be done and yet some people say that it is my own fault. There are those who put the blame on the way I dress. I disagree. Flies are not attracted to my Hawaiian Shirts. Just because my shirts are brightly colored and floral looking doesn’t mean that flies are drawn to me. Hummingbirds maybe, but not flies. I could accept their theory if I was wearing shirts that looked like rotting meat or cow dung, but not a bunch of Hibiscus blooms.

That’s No Way To Treat A Lady

Ladybug! Ladybug!
Fly away home.
Your house is on fire.
And your children all gone.

All except one,
And that’s little Ann,
For she crept under
The frying pan.

I don’t think so.

WHEN I WOKE UP THIS MORNING I staggered into the bathroom and looked into the mirror. After the initial shock wore off I noticed that there was a Ladybug clinging to the middle of the glass. At first I thought that I had grown a very colorful zit overnight. I realized that it was not a zit when it started to move across the mirror. My zits rarely do that.

A Spider’s Got To Know His Limitations

ABOUT TEN SECONDS AGO a perfect example of Ambition and Confidence played out right in front of me. I was sitting here quietly sipping on my coffee when before my droopy eyes a teeny tiny spider no bigger than…than…than what you see in the picture of it next to my pen appeared. It was dangling from a silken thread.

This spider had seen me sitting here and thought, “I can take him,” and he lowered himself down from the ceiling.

Where Is Mr. Miyagi When You Need Him?

OUR LIFE IS BUSY ENOUGH THESE DAYS what with family business, New Doctors, Old Doctors, and the Christmas holiday season swirling about us like a ten speed blender with the lid off. We don’t need gnats.

Gnats, those little itty-bitty flying critters that come out of nowhere, annoy the heck out of you, and then fly away before you can get a good swat at them. I don’t know how they got in here, but I can tell you where I’d like them to go.

Throwback Thursday from Dec. 2015 – “I Go Out Wokking”

 

Throwback Thursday from Dec. 2015 – “I Go Out Wokking”

EVERY ONCE IN A WHILE I GET A CRAVING for Wonton soup, Pot Stickers or Sweet and Sour Something or Other. That is when I stage a full out assault on the “First Wok.”

First Wok is one of those small, family run Chinese Food To-Go shops that can be found in strip malls around the world.

First Wok may, or may not, be the first wok in Terre Haute (That’s French for, “My plastic fork is broken.”). They have some tables for those who want to eat there, but I’d wager that 90% of the customers get their General Tso’s Chicken To-Go in those little white paper cartons with the wire handles.

Swat! Slap! I Got Him! Aw, He Got Me.

MY SKIN LOOKS LIKE A CLOSE-UP OF THE SURFACE OF AN ORANGE. I am covered with mosquito bites. Why me, Oh Lord?

“Because you are a warm blooded creation that makes mosquitoes go ‘Yum,’ My son.”

Well, that explains it all. Thanks, God.

In the wake of Hurricane Harvey a Gazillion mosquito larvae erupted into the air, all looking for lunch and I must look like the buffet at the Golden Corral Restaurant.

Welcome to post-hurricane Texas.

Nothing. I Got Nothing.

IT WAS A DARK AND STORMY NIGHT. At least that was how it felt to me. While it was comfortably warm and calm outside inside my body it was “Batten down the hatches, and furl your sails!”

I was sick.

On Friday I felt relatively well and spry for a man of my age, but by Friday night I was feeling a bit off kilter. I was sneezing and had no appetite. For me that is a rare occurrence. I began to fear that something ugly was afoot.

What Is The Matter?

I THINK MY BODY IS DEFYING ONE OF THE BASIC LAWS OF PHYSICS – that matter is a constant that can neither be created nor destroyed.

Oh, yeah? Well don’t tell that to my sinuses.

I am at the tail end of this head cold. I have been wrestling with it for a couple of weeks. While I know that I will live to annoy another day my sinuses have decided to go it alone and play hard to get.

Pass Me A Napkin

IF YOU MET ME FOR THE FIRST TIME at 7:00 in the morning you would think that I was the great-grandson of “Typhoid Mary” (Look it up). For reasons known only to God and the makers of Kleenex I tend to go on a sneezing jag most mornings. It doesn’t matter that I may feel fine and am infectious microbe free. I sneeze.

For a good 45 seconds up to a half hour I look like I am possessed by demons as I lurch and make disgusting noises. Nobody wants to shake my hand in the morning. Hey, I wouldn’t want to shake my own hand.

Our Timing Was Bad

SOMETIMES STAYING CLOSE TO HOME can be a lot like traveling to places far away. My wife, the lovely and increasingly once more left-handed, Dawn, and I had such an experience just the other day.

There we were in beautiful Terre Haute (That’s French for, “Look, a parking space.”) and we decided to pop into the local Staples store to pick up a few things – we tend to burn through office supplies.

We Have A Solution. Let’s Go Find A Problem For It

I WAS WATCHING TV THE OTHER DAY when I actually saw something new. It was an ad from the Sherwin-Williams Paint Company. They were singing the praises of a brand new product: Anti-Bacterial Paint.

The commercial showed this stereotypical suburban mommy gleefully painting away. She was certainly better dressed for painting than I had ever seen before. There was no drop cloth either, so I must assume that this new paint was also Anti-Gravity and never dripped.

Feed Me. I Don’t Care What

AFTER A FULL DAY of visiting historic Neolithic sites and the 13th century ruins of a Cistercian Abbey we were tired, a bit overwhelmed, and hungry.

The entire trip back to our “Base Camp” in Belturbet was consumed with trying to decide what to eat for dinner. We were exhausted, so preparing a meal for ourselves was quickly ruled out. We needed someone else to do the work and set the food in front of us.

I Am Sick

I AM SICK.

I know that a lot of people have been holding that opinion of me for years. But, no, I am sick – sick. I have a major cold. It’s not the flu, Ebola, or the Creeping Gang-Ganga (a rare condition spread by the dreaded Gaboon Viper that sneaks up behind you and bites you on the Gaboon). I am just sick.

Cafe Insecta

IT OCCURRED TO ME A SHORT TIME AGO that most of this week’s blog postings have to do animals of one sort or another. Today is about:

BUGFEST 2015

Can I Have A Do-Over?

SOME DAYS START OUT BADLY. Little warning signs are dropped in your path that tell you, “Go back to bed. Stay there until tomorrow. Save yourself.” Yesterday morning was one of those days.

Let me explain.

The Trees Are Alive!

IT’S THAT TIME OF YEAR AGAIN – the cicadas are filling the trees and singing their little hearts out in search of romance.