Steel Cut Oatmeal...or breakfast sausage and eggs?

If I could eat for breakfast 3-eggs, an 8-oz slab of country sausage, and a plateful of greasy hashbrowns everyday...I would. Let's not forget a couple of nice, hot fluffy homemade biscuits and a big bowl of country sausage gravy...mmmmm! But, that wouldn't be a prudent idea. Factor in a Bacon Double Cheeseburger and fries for lunch, and a nice Ribeye with twice-baked potatoes for dinner and my cardiologist would have me committed.

Speaking of committed...Loretta and I have pledged to eat hot, fresh-made oatmeal for breakfast at least 5 days a week. The other days: maybe cold oat cereal on one day, then splurge a little on the other day(see dream breakfast description above). So far, we've been doing well. Since I refuse to eat that nasty, flavored, instant packet oatmeal (I'm not sure it is actually oatmeal)...I have also made the committment to cook oatmeal from "scratch".

Yes, I do indulge myself with a pat of unsalted, creamery butter, a little milk, and brown sugar. But my rationalization is that it can't be near as bad as the eggs and sausage routine.

Will I get tired of the oatmeal thing? Probably. But it's a start anyway.

By the way, Steel Cut Oats are more expensive than regular rolled oats. But I had to see what all the hoopla was about. They have a much more nutty and savory flavor, but do take a while longer to cook. Steel-Cut Oats are whole grain oats (the inner portion of the kernel) cut into two or three pieces (about the size of a beebee). Regular rolled oats are flake oats that have been steamed, rolled, re-steamed, then toasted. This processing causes them to lose some of their natural taste, texture, and nutritional value.

I am by no means a "health food freak", but would like to be. Any food I put in my system that actually helps remove cholesterol can't be bad for me!

Now if I could just find a no-cholesterol substitute for Applewood Bacon!

Somewhere...over the drug dealers house...

We had a few days of spotty rain recently. It didn't really come come down in signigicant amounts around our parts here in Salida. Farther north in the Sacramento area it rained a bit harder. The nearby mountains are getting some serious snow. And, it's been really, really cold!

The photo above kind of marked the end of the series of storm systems we experienced. Late in the afternoon Monday, Loretta noted that bright sun was shining through our west-facing back windows, and...it was raining. "Hey", I chirped in anticipation, "there is probably a rainbow out front (the east side of our house)". I started feverishly digging into my camera bag in hopes of finding the Canon 20D all lensed up and loaded with a memory card ready to shoot. "Ureka!", I exclaimed with exhuberance, "I'm gonna get a couple of rainbow photos this time".

Meanwhile, Loretta reminded me of what has happened in similar times past when I got excited about taking photos of a quickly passing event. "Be careful, honey", she suggested in her most caring motherly advice, "Don't hurt yourself. You know what can happen when you get excited about these things". This concern from her fell on deaf ears as I was already in the front yard...camera to the ready and pointed at the rainbow.

Nothing traumatic happened to me (this time) in my zeal to get an image recorded.

Indeed, there was a rainbow spanning the neighborhood. A full rainbow arcing over all the tract homes on San Martin Drive...stretched across a cloudy, and sunny at the same time, Fall afternoon sky. It was a nice rainbow and I got a few photos. Of course, being the negative fellow that I am, I complained, "This would really be nice if I was out in the countryside with some sort of natural foreground instead of three bedroom houses, a beat up Corvette with the back window broken out, and an aqua-colored plastic utility box in the yard!" But, you get the shots when and where you can.

I was truly tempted get in the car to try and find either end of that rainbow...looking for a pot of gold. But even I know that is impossible...finding the end of a rainbow...and, finding a pot of gold there. In some other person's perspective of the rainbow, the end was right on my house. So, I was already at "the end of the rainbow".

Besides, from my angle, the end of that rainbow was on our drug-dealer neighbor's house across the street. I'm reasonably sure there is no pot-o-gold over there...though, you never know. So, I got some rainbow shots. And more importantly...I didn't injure myself in any way. Success!

O.K., O.K....Yes, I am thankful for many things...

I’ve never had much of a problem being sympathetic, or sensitive, or reflective, or emotional, or sentimental. Not lately anyway. It seems in the last ten years or so, I’ve become almost pathetically sappy about some things. I get all choked up at what seems to be the simplest of things...movies, old photos, memories, a truly good Bacon Cheeseburger. But I just don’t emote very much about Thanksgiving. While I’m on the subject...Christmas doesn’t do much for me either nowadays!

In fact, the holidays in general seem to put me in a pissier mood than any other time of the year (if it’s even possible for me to be more pissier than I am normally). Usually from November 24th or so to January 27th, I’m just a grumpy, whiny, pain-in-the-ass. Why January 27th? Well, January 26th is my birthday. I usually snap out of this funk right after that.

So this year, I am going to make a concerted effort to get through this time of year without the usual recalcitrant attitude. Over the years I surmised the reason for this is very simple. This time of the year was always super special for me, as it is for most people. Simply put...as a child, I relished everything about Thanksgiving, Christmas, and my birthday. Since becoming a adult...sometime in my late 40s...it just ain’t the same anymore. The stress, the anticipation, the money thing...they all take their nasty toll on what used to be a free and frivolous time of the season. Shit...Christmas vacation was a blast, even if we didn’t go anywhere. But enough nostalgic whining for now. I am thankful for many things.

Yesterday, Thanksgiving Day, Loretta and I went to our usual turkey day soiree. For the past six years or so, we’ve had Thanksgiving dinner at our friend’s (Sue Perry) parent’s house...the Graysons in Oakdale. They are as close to being surrogate parents as we could hope for. We don’t spend a lot of time with them but we do end up there on several “big” days throughout the year...Thanksgiving, Easter Sunday, Groundhog Day, etc. It has always been difficult to make it down south to visit either of our parents because of work responsibilities and schedules...hence, we thank Bud & Helen Grayson for being so gracious. And they are indeed very gracious individuals. Despite my crass behavior, off-color jokes, love for Black Velvet, and incessant picture taking...they insist on inviting us back! Of course, our repeating invitation back may only be due to the fact that I am married to a very polite, lovely woman. I am also very thankful to be hitching a ride on Loretta’s social shirt tail. In fact, if not for Loretta, I just might have been injoying Thanksgiving (and every other holiday) the past 11 years at the local soup kitchen. And so...I am thankful for my wife as well.

Yes, I am very thankful for my mom, Betty...and my two kids, Jenifer and Jimmy. And though I know I must not assume that they are aware of how thankful I am for having them, this particular blog is directed beyond these principals. Geeze, I hope that was P.C. enough for the time being! Betty will get her very own blog entry soon.

There is no Santa Clause. There is no Easter Bunny. I certainly don’t enjoy a good trytophan-induced snooze after Thanksgiving like I used to. And there ain’t no angel named Clarence ringing a bell ‘cause he just got his wings! But there are some very important people in my life that I need to give thanks for more often...not just on turkey day.

In addition to my wife Loretta, my mom, my children, the Graysons, and the Perrys. Here are a few people that I am happy to have as a part of my life (in no particular order of importance I might add): Bob, Gary, Kris, and Peter Sellars. Some of them I don’t see nearly enough...one I will never meet...and some are essential to my well being and sanity on almost a daily basis. If I’ve forgotten someone (who reads this blog), I apologize...maybe you should call, write, or email me once in a while to get back on my “A” list! And not being on this list does not mean unimportance. Don’t forget...as we get older, that C.R.S. thing kicks in more often.

Here a just a few shots from thanksgiving at the Graysons. That's Loretta doing her serving and dishing-up thing. A picture of Loretta finishing up my plate (as I was still busy doing what I love to do most). And Bud giving the toast...that's Helen to his left...Loretta of course on his right.


So all in all, when everything was said and done...we had a very nice thanksgiving with some very nice people. I always ask Loretta on the way home, "Was I alright? Did I do or say anything stupid? 'Ya think they'll invite us back? I love you honey!" She assured me that all went well and they did, as always, enjoy our company on their special family day.

Now, I need to finish editing the 300 photos I took.

Where have you gone Maria Gambrelli?

Am I the only person who remembers minute little details about certain times in their life? I hardly think so. And I hardly think that I am the only person who wishes sometimes they could purge their memories of these things, kind of like emptying the cache on a p.c., or reformatting the hard drive. Of course, anyone who knows anything about computers knows that reformatting the hard drive also deletes all files...and yes, I would still do it (to my mind) even with that consequence. I believe I am running out of space...the processor is slowing down because of that.

For example, I can still vividly remember to this day what I had to eat on November 24th, 1957, the day before Thanksgiving. Maybe not everything I ate that day, but one item in particular. It was Rye Crisp crackers with big chunks of Velveeta cheese cut from one of those giant slabs you buy in a box. I’m not real sure that I even really liked Rye Crisp...but I know I liked Velveeta, I was seven years old at the time and I gorged myself on those crackers and cheese. That November day in 1957 my family was moving into our brand new house in Canoga Park, California...right at the extreme western end of the San Fernando Valley. In fact, it was so far west that our back fence was literally the L.A. County line for a number of years. There were no other houses west of us for about five years...unless you count Thousand Oaks, but that was maybe 15 miles away. It was all fields of alfalfa, orange groves, bunny rabbits, lizards, and dirt.

I remember moving into our new house on Melba Avenue and eating Rye Crisp and Velveeta on November 24th, 1957. I think my parents paid about $15,000 for that house...a three bedroom, two bath modern tract home with built in appliances, a two car garage, and a sliding glass door leading to a big old cement patio slab and yard. That back fence that was the L.A. County line was made of redwood, my parents stained it deeper red soon after we got situated. They also had a swimming pool built shortly thereafter, in the shape of a “B”...for Betty, my mom’s name. It had a diving board and a black and red decorative cement deck. Considering I was only seven years old (the oldest of three kids), they put up a chain link fence to separate the pool from the house. We had the cement patio covered with a white and blue aluminum patio cover and grew some grass in what was left of the yard after the pool was dug. A few years later my dad put together a custom-made cabana in the corner of the pool yard. A cabana complete with real palm tree frawns and carved tiki heads. My dad and I traveled a few miles up into the hills where we had seen some large, old palm trees while shooting my beebee gun, that’s where the palm frawns and tiki head material came from. Metal-framed chaise lounges with brightly colored pads lined the deck area near the cabana, my mom really enjoyed laying out by the pool and getting a tan. She used to get very tan in the summer, so did my sisters. Afterall, we were living in Southern California...the San Fernando Valley. There was also a redwood picnic table and a BBQ.

I remember my parents having pool parties out there. We still have 8mm film of these get- togethers by the pool. Silent, grainy films showing young adults, still in their late twenties, dancing and swimming and drinking and smoking cigarettes. They would make faces at my dad holding the Kodak 8mm movie camera, then grab someone elses wife and starting slow dancing across the deck. There were always a lot of young children as well, babies in basinet-looking contraptions too. And there always seemed to be at least one shot of one of us kids dancing with one of the parents...standing on their feet. Then, they would throw us in the pool. We didn’t mind getting thrown in the pool...we loved to go swimming. Unless we got thrown in the pool on top another swimming child. At which point all the fun and frivolity would come to a screeching halt for a few minutes while the screaming, injured child was fished out of the water, coddled a bit, attended to, then released again to jump back in the pool and pick up where they left off. The parents grabbed another beer or mixed a few more drinks and the party went on...T-Bones, hamburgers, and hot dogs sizzling on the grill. Potato salad, chips and dip, and pitchers of Kool-Aid displayed on the brightly colored, plastic table-cloth covered picnic table.

Those days are long gone. I’ve long since lost most, if not all, of my wild-eyed idealism, innocence, and hope. The ambitions I had in my younger days have evaporated into thin air...poof! Where I once possessed only the slightest bit of confidence now resides an empty pit of broken dreams and despair. Failed marriages, businesses, and wanna-be careers have taken their toll. I’m tired.

There is a glimmer left in me though from time to time...but not often. The advice I received when I was a child (and as an adult) to “snap out of it” just doesn’t provide relief any longer from this negativity.

Everything in my life that could be considered less than optimal is totally and completely my own doing...I know that. There is no one to blame but myself. And because there is no one to blame or turn to, it is totally and completely up to me to turn this ride around.

Life used to be a lot more fun when we were young. I can’t tell you what I had to eat two days ago...and I can’t remember when the last time I had a truly fun, unencumbered, worry-free day. When did I last have a restful, full night’s, sleep...who knows? I do remember though what I had to eat on November 24th, 1957! And I do remember how I use to feel on the way to Disneyland. And I do remember the elation I felt while driving a car for the first time at 16 years old...or when Christmas was just around the corner...or going fishing...or eating Rye Crisp and Velveeta in our brand new house. And I do remember what Thanksgiving was like.

We always seemed to have relatives over. Most often, it would be my Mom's sisters from San Diego...maybe a cousin or three. Betty got up early to put the turkey in the oven, I could always smell it cooking by the time I woke up. She made the best gravy and mashed potatoes. Turkey (white meat exclusively for me back then), mashed potatoes and gravy, and corn. That was pretty much all I had on my plate. It wasn't until later in life did I learn to enjoy the stuffing, green bean casserole, salads, and...the 7 and 7's! My dad insisted every year that there was a small bowl of creamed pearl onions on the table...his favorite. Early on Thanksgiving Day, my Dad would make dips and chips and other snacks. Green onion dip and Fritos was my favorite. Dad would also make clam dip on occasion. That dip and the pearl onions didn't move very fast...I think he planned it that way...no one else ate them!

We would have dinner relatively early, 2:00 or so. The reasoning behind eating early? So we could have "seconds" or turkey sandwiches later in the afternoon of course...after laying around on the couch watching football or a replay of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade. That evening, the Hollywood Christmas parade took place...we would watch that as well.

There are many memories from long ago that make me nostalgic for that simpler time. But they are just that...memories. I guess I will always have that.

And, I will always have the future...as long as I am around on this earth. There are things happening in my life now that I probably should have started years ago...but at least they are happening now. There are many things to be thankful for this Thanksgiving too. We all must remind ourselves of what those things are on a daily basis, not just on this Thursday near the end of November. I'll save that long list of mine for another blog...another time.

Where have you gone Maria Gambrelli? You’re still right here...inside me. And that is where you will always be.

The Great Cheesecake Disaster

Anyone who cooks or bakes at all is well aware of this simple fact: There will be a food disaster sooner or later.

If you try making new and different things from time to time, sometimes they just don't turn out. But when you cook an item from a tried and true recipe you kind of expect it to be O.K. Obviously...not always.

I have baked this "secret" cheesecake recipe many times. It is much more than the everyday Jello no-bake deal. It takes a while...there are several stages...and it tastes pretty darn good. In fact, I have a couple of orders from people wanting to pay me to make them one. But I did something (actually two somethings) last night that led to The Great Cheesecake Disaster. First and foremost, I left out an ingredient...a fact that I didn't realize until after surveying the sad outcome. Second, I took some advice from a separate recipe "master" and applied it to this recipe. Voila! "You idiot! Gawd!"
That little "tip" I got from another "master" simply involved removing the springform pan soon after it comes out of the oven, presumebly avoiding the surfacing cracking that often happens when baked cheesecakes "set up". This technique may indeed work...if you don't forget to leave out the cornstarch! I'm pretty much assuming that this ingredient omission was the major fatal screw up on my part.I don't believe I will try that early springform pan removal again in future cheesecake baking attempts...with or without cornstarch.

By the way...it did make a nice pudding.

"Little Skippy" hits the newspaper

This is a photo of me in 1950.

I don’t know who took the picture, probably my Dad or my Mom. Shortly thereafter, my Dad left for Navy duty in Korea. We were still living in Sioux Falls, South Dakota...where I was born.

I scanned it from a clipping my Mom gave me a while back. At first I thought it was from the newspaper...but the paper texture is more like a magazine. Maybe some sort of Lifestyle section of the paper. They spelled my last name wrong by the way.

As I breezed through similar photos of me the other day, I noticed several shots taken of me in that little seat hanging on the side of the car, a late 40's Studebaker I think. I believe that is what a baby car seat amounted to back then. Designed to hang over the bench style automobile seats, my parents also used it on the outside of the car on occasion...possibly when they were sitting around the front yard, next to the driveway. Obviously, child car seat designs have come a long way since the early 50’s.

Of course, I’m only assuming that they brought that hanging car seat (with me in it) into the car when they were driving! If not, that may explain a lot of things about me 56 years later.

Mission Impossible: III

As with any other movie you choose to go see or buy or Netflix...you should watch Mission Impossible: III with the following in mind. After the first twenty minutes or so, ask yourself, “Am I interested in seeing how it ends?” In other words, “Am I being drawn into waiting for some sort of resolution?” Or, conversely, are the action sequences distracting...are the plot twists confusing...and are the actors making a believable effort? When the movie is over, did it take you from Point A to Point B then to Point C without putting you to sleep or causing you to walk out or turn off the DVD player and start surfing the cable channels? MI: III did not put us to sleep (a rarity on our couch when we watch rented movies) and we were genuinely drawn into seeing what happened at the end.

Despite all the hoo-hah of late about Tom Cruise. Despite harboring some disappointment in MI:I and MI:II. I really enjoyed this movie. It was fun to watch and I was truly interested in seeing what happened next. Yes, as a dyed-in-the-wool movie technical geek who gets overly concerned about “how’d they do that?”, I bought into the whole thing...to the end.

There were many sequences that I would certianly categorize as over-the-top SPX extravaganzas. Check out the Chesapeake Bay Bridge car caravan attack by a drone fighter plane, it’s mind blowing...especially after you watch the DVD extra on how they actually filmed it miles from an ocean! But it worked. Even Cruise himself was impressive in his enthusiastic portrayal as agent extraordinaire, Ethan Hunt. Many, if not most, of the stunts were performed by Cruise himself. Sure there was a lot of digital manipulation. But he was the one being blown up, dangled in harnesses over high places, and hanging out of speeding SUVs shooting at bad guys. I gotta hand it to him, little Tommy did a good job on this one.

The plot also involved a pretty good rendition of the arch villain, this time played by Phillip Seymour Hoffman. He plays a sort of international broker of mayhem and (inferred) terrorism, though his specific intention is never revealed in the movie. They chose not to script any kind of politics into this one. Hoffman’s character is quite evil and his portrayal is convincing. In addition, if this was a 007 flick, there are several very attractive “Bond Girls”...or should I say “Hunt Girls”? The fiance, one of his team sidekicks, the doomed agent he rescues...all babes! And yes, Ving Rhanes is back as one of his buddies.

Anyway, Ethan is preparing to get married. During his engagement party, he is called away to the local 7-Eleven to meet with his secret organization boss. This time, agent Hunt gets his instructions through one of those disposeable cameras that burns up after playing the message. And so he is off to Europe and other exotic locales (including Shanghai) for all the action. In the meantime, his fiance is kidnapped by Hoffman and held hostage in order to blackmail Hunt into giving up the location of a secret apocalyptic device, the controller of which would be able to rule the world. That’s the plot in a miniature nutshell.

Mission Impossible III is action-packed and is indeed a pretty good “popcorn movie”. There are several somewhat predictable plot twists and betrayals...but we’ve come to expect that in these movies. We would be disappointed without the twists, as long as they don’t detract from the movie itself. The ending is bit lackluster, but satisfying. Watch the “Making of MI:III” on the DVD, it is not very long and will reveal “how they did that”! Give MI:III a try. Turn up the surround sound and have a good time “at the movies”.

We also saw Nacho Libre the same afternoon. I'll blather about that flick next.