LONGWALKABOUT

Who doesn’t love pierogies?  You can’t go wrong with unleavened dough stuffed with delicious goodness.  I could go on and on about the things you can put in them like Bubba from Forrest Gump, but I won’t, because I have a story to tell.  If someone comes to me and tells me that they aren’t fond of pierogies, I immediately am suspicious of them.  It’s like when someone tells you they don’t like dogs.  I smile and nod like I understand where they are coming from, but on the inside I have already put them on a list of potential serial killers.

There is a place near where I live that makes pierogies from scratch.  You can stop in and pick some up to take home, but you have to do so early in the day because they sell out rather quickly.  A few years ago my sister and brother-in-law came to visit us for Christmas and we decided that taking them to get homemade pierogies would be a treat.  My sister had spent a year teaching in Poland and I was curious to see how these measured up against the real deal.  We piled in the car and drove to the small storefront.  The place was doing a brisk business, and there were a few people in line ahead of us.  That was fine, it gave us a chance to read the board and figure out what we wanted.  I made my decision.  Everyone else was still looking.  So my attention wandered.  To the people out on the sidewalk.  To the other customers.  To something that I just saw fall from the ceiling and land on the collar of my brother-in-law’s coat out the corner of my eye.  What was that?  Oh.  Yes.  Of course.  It was a cockroach.

I would like to pause here and explain a few things.  My brother-in-law is a sincere, really nice guy, who, unlike myself, dresses professionally more often than not.  No t-shirts and jeans.  If you looked at the two of us standing next to each other and you had to decide which one of us to hire.  It wouldn’t take you long to make your decision.  I imagine the quotes.

“Yes, we’ll hire the guy who dresses to impress.” Or

“Yes, we’ll hire the guy who is not wearing a concert shirt from five years ago.”  Or

“Yes, we’ll hire the guy who doesn’t look two months overdue for a haircut.”

You get the point.  He dresses sharp and expects like effort from the businesses he patronizes.

And,,,,,,,,, now he was standing two feet from me with a roach on the collar of his coat.  Dilemma.  What should I do?  I couldn’t make him aware of the problem and let him think that we took them out to some roach-infested dive.  I decided that swift action was the best course.  In one smooth, heroic motion, I swept my hand across the side of his collar, knocking the roach to the floor.  Now for the tricky part.  He turned to look at me.  I had to make it look totally normal that I was taking the time to brush things off of his collar in the middle of the shop.  Again, I heroically played it cool.  “Oh, you just had something on your coat.”  Then I turned back to look at the board, hoping he wouldn’t ask what.  If he thought it was weird, which I’m sure he did, he didn’t say anything.  We made our purchase and went home to cook them.  I know what you’re thinking.  “Wait, you still bought and ate them?”  Yes.  We did.  They were authentic.  And they were spectacular.

To this day, my brother-in-law does not know that this happened.  Some stories have a statute of limitations and I decided that enough time had passed on this one.  So when you read this, brother-in-law, don’t be disgusted.  Just remember how good the pierogies were, and that roaches are about 20% protein and only 5 to 7% fat.  So we’ve got that going for us.

 

SPECIAL LINKS SECTION

Everyone knows about the refugee crisis in Europe, but not everyone is aware of how the changes in the region over the last ten years have affected the Christian population there.

• A good article about the Wall Street Journal about Christians in the Middle East.
• The Catholic News Agency on the survival of Christianity in the Middle East.
• Interview with John Rhys Davies on the plight of Christians in the Middle East and Africa.
• A site dedicated to providing aid to Christians in the region.

In a brand new feature, I will be analyzing significant personal and cultural events of the past week.  You may think that this has been done a million times by a million different people, but I hope to bring you a fresh angle.  Analysis by someone who thinks that being a hermit is a viable, perhaps preferable, life choice.  It would also help if when you read this, you imagined James Earl Jones was reading it to you.

• The Chicago Cubs won the World Series this week.  This proves that billy goat curses either have an expiration date, or Theo Epstein (who has been involved in breaking two different curses now) wields some kind of strong black magic.
• I will grudgingly admit that the Cubs winning the series is an important sports event.  I will not, however, go out of my way to congratulate them or their fans.  Why?  Because I am a real sports fan.  I am not a Cubs fan.  All other teams except my team are inherently evil.  A little secret.  If I have ever congratulated a fan from some other team on winning a championship, I didn’t mean one word of it.  Whenever my team is eliminated from the playoffs, I start hoping that all the other teams left are somehow magically disqualified, because they are obviously cheating somehow.  How do I know this?  Because I am a real sports fan.
• My oldest got out of the shower one night this week and started yelling for a towel. Because he lacked the forethought to grab one before he got into the shower, I ignored his pleas.  Eventually he got cold enough to patter to the linen closet to get his own towel. As a family we refuse to throw any towel away until it is literally threadbare, we have a gazillion towels.  What does my son grab to dry himself with? A floor mat.
• More than a year and a half ago we cut cable.  Because of this, I am just getting to season 6 of The Walking Dead.  The binge watch has commenced.
• The best thing to happen this week?  My dog finally got over his case of the trots.  Ever since he had to have surgery to remove a squeaky toy from his stomach he has been more susceptible to intestinal issues.  So, for four or five days I get stuck making special meals of chicken and rice for him.  Yes, I have to spend more time on his meals than I do on my own lunches.  I get no discernible thanks for this process.  Well, at least he’s handsome, and not a cat.
• Halloween came and went on Monday.  My kids went out and got candy dressed as Indiana jones and some kind of Star Wars storm trooper with no mask and a Nerf Gun. As an adult I have figured out a better way to get candy on Halloween than going door to door and counting on the kindness of my neighbors.  I just buy all of my favorite candies and then I  hand out as little as possible.

LINKS

• It has been 35 years to the day since the beginning of the Iranian hostage crisis.  CBS has an interesting photo retrospective.
• A Cubs fan drove from North Carolina to Indiana to listen to game 7 at his father’s graveside.  Real sports fan.
• Everyone can relax.  The Monkey King just let us know who would win the election.
• The Bataclan Theatre in Paris, sight of an Islamic terror attack one year ago, will be reopening with a concert by Sting on November 12.

A continuation of George Washington’s exclusive interview with me.  In the second half we cover many topics, including current day television, education, self-reliance, and the famous cherry tree story.

Let’s pick up where he left off.

G:  Seriously, I would quite like to meet that lady.  Who is she.

M:  Sir, I’ll see what I can do.

G:  Thank you, kind lad.

M:  What else would you like to know?

G:  I’m very curious.  My people were trying to explain television to me.  Maybe you could do a better job?

M:  Awesome.  I know lots about this subject.  Basically, it’s a box that you have in your home that you can watch things on. You can watch live sporting events, you can watch live news broadcasts of things that are happening all over the world, you can watch scripted entertainment programs, and you can even watch programs that follow other people around as they live their lives.

G:  So, instead of living your own lives, you sit at home and watch other people?  That seems a bit sad.

M:  No, it’s actually pretty cool.

G:  My opinion remains unchanged on this matter.  Is this “entertainment” available at all times?

M:  Oh, yeah.  There are hundreds of programming options to choose from.

G:  Who is watching in the middle of the day, when everyone is working or at school?

M:  Actually, we have about 95 million people out of the workforce right now, so there are plenty of folks who are available for daytime tv viewing.

G:  Pardon…..  How many?  Never you mind, let us proceed.  What is on television in the middle of the day?

M:  Mostly civil court shows and talk shows where people find out the paternity of their children.

G:  Saddening

M:  Withhold judgement until you’ve seen the first season of The Walking Dead.

G:  I mentioned education earlier.  How are we doing on education?  Or don’t people have time to read because of how much tv they watch?

M:  Ouch, Mr. president.  Harsh.

M:  We’re actually doing pretty well in the education area.  This year we’re going to have about 20.5 million people attending universities.  See, we read.

G:  That sounds wonderful.

M:  Absolutely, Mr. president.  Universities are offering more and more areas of study.  You can be exposed to many different ideas, and if a particular idea hurts your feelings or makes you feel bad, the universities provide safe spaces where you can go until you feel good again.

G:  Baaaaahahahahahahahahaha

M:  Baaaahahahaha,,,, I know,,,,,,  I almost couldn’t get it out.   Hahahahahaha

G:  Whew,,,,,…,, I needed that.  You are a funny fellow.

M:  I wish I could take credit for being funny, but that’s actually a true story.

G:  ……………

G:  You know, on my way here, we passed an exit for Valley Forge.  That wouldn’t be the same Valley Forge where I spent the winter during the revolution would it?

M:  Oh, yeah.  It’s a National Historical Park now.

G:  I hope the history books recorded how cold it was that winter.  It was miserable.

M:  It’s been well documented sir.

G:  It was freaking freezing.  I detest the cold.  I almost retreated.  Do you know why I didn’t?

M:  Why?

G:  So this nation of rugged, self-reliant people could have the freedom to determine their own destiny.  And,,,,,,,,,, now you have universities with safe spaces.

M:  Well, on the bright side, if you’re looking for warmer weather, the United States now includes two territories in the Caribbean.

G:  Fantastic!

M:  I know, right.

(High Five)

M:  Hey, did you want to know anything about the current election?

G:  No, I abhor politics.

M:  Good, because that would have been harder to explain than the Vanity Fair cover.

M:  Before you go Mr. president, I have one question for you.  What’s the story with that cherry tree?

G:  Oh.  You know about that?  Well, here is the real story.  My mother was threatening to add cherry juice to her lemonade recipe.  I considered that unacceptable.  So, down went the tree.

M:  Well, sir, I have to say, you were way wrong on that one.  We put cherry juice in everything now.  Lemonade, apple juice, cranberry juice, cola……

G:  Ludicrous.

M:  You should give it a chance.

G:  We shall see.

M:  I don’t want you to be late for Hamilton.  We never got around to talking about popular music, but here are a few CD’s for you to listen to on the way to New York.

G:  ‘Bowling For Soup’ and ‘Motley Crue’?

M:  You’re gonna love it.

G:  Thank you.

M:  Sir, it’s been an honor.

There you have it.  Hard hitting.  Full of important content.  And most of all, exclusive.  You won’t find this anywhere else.

 

In a surprise longwalkabout exclusive, George Washington has secured an interview with yours truly.  His representatives contacted me, and they tell me that he is very interested in learning about the current state of the country. I, of course, was extremely flattered.  I wanted to know why he chose me in particular.  They bluntly stated that it was because Ryan Seacrest couldn’t fit him into his schedule until March of next year, and they were told I wouldn’t be busy, like,,, at all.  A little bit hurtful to be honest.

Without further adieu.

M:  Mr. President, what a pleasure, truly honored to meet you.

G:  A pleasure to meet you too, not to be rude, but if we could jump right into things, My people have managed to get me tickets to Hamilton this evening.

M:  Sure, sure, what would you like to know?

G:  Well, I wanted to talk to someone about the state of things in America.  I’m here to learn.

M:  Great.  I brought some things to show you.  Here’s a dollar.  As you can see, you’re featured prominently on this bill.

G:  May I?

M:  Of course.

G:  What can you buy with a dollar?

M:  Not much to be honest.  But with four of them you can get a loaf of bread.  With five, you can get a gallon of milk.

G:  Wow.  So I’m on a semi-worthless bill?

M:  Sort of.  But it is our most common currency. So you’ve got that going for you.

G:  Is there a hundred dollar bill?

M: Oh yeah, absolutely.

G:  Who’s on that one?

M:  Benjamin Franklin.

G:  You’ve got to be freaking kidding me.  He wasn’t even a president.  I swear, he weaseled his way into everything.

M: ……

G:  Well,,,,, let’s move on.  I’m curious, what do we build in America these days?

M:  Glad that you asked.  We build a lot of Dollar Stores where we sell tchotchkes that are made in China.  So, there you go.  A lot of bills with your face on them are spent there. Also we build a ton of pharmacies.  I mean, there’s one on virtually every corner.  Oh, and convenience stores, we also build those.  When I think of it, the sheer number of convenience stores may have something to do with the number of pharmacies.

G:  Somewhat depressing.  Do we actually produce any goods of our own?

M:  Ummmm.  Not much in the way of physical goods, but we’ve made eighteen Fast and Furious movies.

G:  So, if as a country, we don’t produce anything, what does everyone do for work?

M:  Well, a lot of people work for the government.  And hey, don’t forget about all those Dollar Stores, convenience stores, and pharmacies.  People work there too.

G:  Wait, wait, wait.  You said the government employs a lot of people.

M:  Oh yeah, tons of people.

G:  What do they do?

M:  No one’s really sure.  Except for the IRS.  They collect taxes.

G:  Taxes?

M:  Yeah.

G:  …………

M:  …………

M:  Maybe we should move on.  Not sure if you’re aware of this, but they built a huge monument in your name in DC.  I brought a photo of it to show you.

G:  Great,,,,,,, an obelisk.  How many times do I have to tell people that I’m not a Freemason?  Those guys latched on to me and they won’t let it drop.

M:  So, you don’t like the monument?

G:  To be honest, I’m not a fan.  What’s that monument across the pool from mine?

M:  Oh that, that’s Abraham Lincoln’s monument.  He was another president.

G:  That is classy.  I much prefer that.

M:  I kind of agree with you sir.

M:  Here’s some other stuff I brought.  These are all magazines that are published in the United States today.

G:  Who is that handsome lady on the cover of Vanity Fair?

M:  Oh,,,,, right,,,,,, I don’t think we have enough time for me to explain that, sir.

(to be continued)

This past weekend I went backpacking on the Appalachian Trail in Pennsylvania with my dad and my two boys.  We try to get out on the trail together once a year.  The past two years we went in late October/early November and were treated to nights in the low twenties.  (That would be Fahrenheit you weird metric system people.) If you’ve read any of this blog, you are quite aware of my aversion to cold weather.  This year the weather was just about perfect.  Sixties during the day and mid forties at night.  Nice.  It’s kind of cool to be able to do this right now.  Three generations on the trail together.

• My youngest son is seven.  He is a 100 percenter. Whatever he is feeling at any moment,,,, he is feeling it 100 percent.  So hiking with him goes like this.  First mile-  This is exciting, I’m going to run, I like being in the woods. Second mile-  We’ll never make it, I want to go home.  Where is grandpa?  He’s left us behind, I can’t see him.  Third mile-  Lot’s of slow walking, occasional sitting, and a few tears.  Then we stop for a snack and repeat the whole process.
• My oldest son is eleven now.  He usually walks with grandpa.  Within half a mile they leave me behind with his brother so I can ride the roller coaster of emotions with him. My oldest can usually be found walking with at least one shoe untied.  When you mention this to him the response is something like, “Meh”, or, “Ok”, and he just keeps walking. Often you get no response at all because he is designing some kind of video game world in his head or thinking about Pokemon.  Later he will fall on the trail and not connect this at all to the fact that he was walking with one shoe untied.
• My dad took our family hiking when I was a kid. It’s where I learned to love the trail.  Since I was a kid, his hiking style has not changed.  He has one speed, and if you’re not walking that speed, you’re getting left behind.  On one of our first hiking trips when I was little, we started in on the trail late behind the group we were supposed to be walking with.  It was me, my dad, my mom, and a friend of theirs.  I kept up with my dad as we walked into the night to catch the rest of the group.  My mom and the other person didn’t walk the same speed.  So, what happened?  That’s right.  They got left.  Behind.  In the dark.  Don’t worry.  They eventually arrived at the campsite. He still walks faster than the rest of us, but at least now he’ll text us to let us know when he’s stopped to wait.
• Me.  I love being in the woods.  I’m handing that down to my kids.  Hopefully one day they’ll hand it down to theirs.  I love the clean air.  I love the sense of self-reliance.  I love sleeping under the stars.  I’d like to get out there more.  I enjoy every minute,,,,,,, except for the time spent prodding my seven year old along.  That’s grueling.

Being on the trail is a recharge for me.  Remember that old movie They Live.  Yes, the one with Rowdy Roddy Piper.  Every time he put on his “special” Ray Bans he could see the alien invaders who had disguised themselves as human.  I know it sounds iffy, but it’s got an 83% on Rotten Tomatoes.  Well, every time I put on my “special” sunglasses and look at road signs, this is how I see the world.  Welcome to the city.  (Here we will steal your soul)  Welcome to the suburbs.  (Here we will steal your soul more more slowly, while you sip a latte, and shop at Hollister and American Eagle Outfitters. But the end result is the same.) ‘Welcome to the trail.  (Here you can recharge your soul.)

LINKS

• Home of the Appalachian Trail Conservancy.  Great site.
• If you want to backpack, but you’re new to the trail.  Here’s a checklist of gear you may need.
• On this date in 1959, The Guggenheim opened in New York.
• A new Bon Jovi album is coming out on November 4.  To celebrate, here’s Wanted Dead Or Alive.  Classic.

I am a vegetarian.  Wait.  Don’t stop reading. I’m not going to try to convince you to be one too.  I couldn’t care less what you eat.  And while it’s true that I’ll probably outlive you, it’s not because of my diet.  It’s because I’m really good at remembering to look both ways when I cross the street.  That,,, and the fact that I have vowed to stay away from methamphetamines.  I just point out that I’m a vegetarian because it is one of the things that make me the odd man out in my own house. The other reason I wanted to point it out is so I could answer one question that I get ALL THE TIME.  I meet someone.  Somehow conversation gets to the fact that I’m vegetarian.  Then, the inevitable question.  “But you eat fish right?”  Well,,,,,, NO.  Last time I checked, they weren’t growing on trees.  And I just checked yesterday, so my information is pretty current.  The term “fish farming” has nothing to do with plants.  Ok.  Got that out of my system.

Yes, my existence at home is a solitary one.

• My youngest son is left-handed, and his diet consists of four things.  Strawberries, scrambled eggs, Eggo waffles, and chicken in various forms.  Wings, tenders, barbecue, and most importantly, Trader Joes chicken chile verde burritos.  I would just like to point out that he is aware that fish is meat.
• My oldest son has a widely varied diet.  It is so widely varied that sometimes I think he watches Animal Planet to get new menu ideas.  We went to a restaurant while on vacation last year and he ordered a whole fish.  (Yes, he was aware that it was meat) When they brought it out from the kitchen, his face was the happiest I’d seen it in two months.  He is also left-handed.
• My left-handed wife is also not vegetarian.  She loves fish and chips.  One of her favorite meals actually.  I always tell her that she was forty years old when she was born, so I’m pretty sure she has always known that fish is meat.  Just to clarify. When I say that she was born forty, I mean that as a four year old she was probably bothering her father about what his five year plan was.  He was probably like, “Will you chill out?  I just asked if you wanted to go to McDonalds.”
• The dog is obviously not a vegetarian.  Not sure if he’s left-pawed or not.  He can be kind of a jerk sometimes.  I’m going to go ahead and assume that he has no idea that fish is meat.  I mean, he eats napkins, bugs, grass, carrots, nectarines……. We got him at an adoption event so I’m not totally sure of his breed.  Sometimes I think he’s half golden retriever half goat.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go eat a grilled cheese, while I watch family pull apart a barbecued chicken.  Barbarians.

I love live music.  Pretty much any live music.

When attended correctly, concerts can be a drink from the fountain of youth.  Look at that picture of me.  I’m actually 118 years old.  My secret?  Good live music, coffee, and following sports teams that actually win.  Today, I’m going to break down how to stay young by going to concerts. There is a method to the madness.

1. Go To High Energy Shows.  It’s like a recharging a battery.  One show can energize you for up to six months.  Personally I prefer rock shows.  The louder the better.  You should be able to feel the drums and bass in your chest.  It is a psuedo-scientifically proven fact that this sonic energy transfers into your cells and, “shakes off the rust.”
2. Don’t Go See Aging Artists.  I told my wife this and she said, “Wow, that’s kind of ageist of you.”  It’s not.  Remember, we’re talking about how live music can keep you young.  There is nothing wrong with going to see, I don’t know, let’s say, The Rolling Stones (except that they are vastly overrated). That show won’t keep you young though. That show will remind you that you are getting older.  Those guys look mummified.  Keep up with new artists.  They didn’t stop making good music when you got out of high school.  Going to see new artists enables you to absorb the energy that only youth can produce.  So, let’s review, Aerosmith= great for nostalgia.  Arctic Monkeys= will keep you young.
3. Most Important Rule.  Go See Artists Where The Crowd Will Be Young. Sounds a little creepy when I read it back.  I’m not talking Justin Bieber young.  I’m thinking more college age.  Younger show crowds are more into the music.  They are also less likely to break a hip when stage diving and much less likely to start telling you about their medical ailments in between sets.  The crowd is approximately 47.233% of your concert going experience.  For it to be considered a legendary show, the crowd itself must be legendary. A good concert crowd contains more energy than two, possibly three, of those ridiculous California solar farms.  You know, the ones that incinerate all the birds that fly by.  When attending a show with a younger crowd, you should absorb their energy.  Kind of like a vampire, except you get to go out in the daylight.  (Unless you have red hair.  For you gingers, I would still recommend at least an SPF 30 before going out in full sun).  Absorb all of that energy being provided by young adults that don’t have the emotional inhibitions that full on adulthood saddles so many people with.  Sing along.  Maybe do some crowd surfing.  Get down in the pit.  Don’t let it bother you when someone turns to their friend and says, “Who’s the creepy old guy?”

By applying these three simple criteria when attending concerts (and drinking lots of coffee, and not being a Cleveland Browns fan) you can stay young pretty much indefinitely.  One other thing.  DON’T GO SEE PHISH.  Word on the street is that it will quite literally take ten years off of your life.

 

 

The kids are back in school.  With that, you should see my literary output increase.

Before we unleashed them on their 2nd and 6th grade teachers respectively, we all sat down as a family and watched Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.  Why? Because you should always send your kids back to school with fresh kung fu moves to try out on the rest of the student body.

That’s where the title of this post came from.  It has nothing to do with kung fu, (I kind of wish it did) but I’ve still got that movie on my mind, so there you go.

As you know, if you read my last post, my wife and I just returned from a trip to Italy.  I’d like to share one more story from the trip before I move on to other things like, “Why Live Music Will Keep You Young”, and, “The Top Five James Bond Movies”, and, “Why Does My Seven Year Old Take Longer Getting Out Of The Car Than His Great Grandmother?”

As part of our trip, we took a break from driving on Italian highways, also known as the chariot race scene from Ben Hur, and visited the Basilica of St. Francis in Assisi.  Upon arrival, I used the time honored tourist technique of “when you’re not sure where you are, follow the crowd.”  We ended up in a line to see the tomb of St. Francis himself.  The line wound in through the lower basilica and down into the crypt.  The basilica was full of signs reminding all of us to be quiet.  To enforce all of this quietude, there was a friar in a booth that would come on the PA system every once in a while and say “Silencio, SSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”  I know, it was as amusing as it sounds.

Eventually we made it down the stairs and into the crypt.  Because I am an Adventist not Catholic, my interest in being there was really more in the historical area.  But it was a surprisingly moving experience for me.  Mixed in with the tourists, were people for whom this was a pilgrimage.  People who brought with them hopes, dreams, and troubles to lay at the tomb of St. Francis.  Their emotion was palpable and it lent a reverence to a place that already had a special feeling.

Just like in the rooms above, there were signs everywhere reminding us to be quiet.  EVERYWHERE.  Behind us in line was a woman who would Just, Not, Shut, UP.  On and on she went.  Ironically she was yapping to her traveling companions about how people have no respect.  However, she wasn’t the only one ignoring the signage.  This continued talking finally angered one of the friars.  I’m not real familiar with friars, but I assume it takes a lot to anger one.  He proceeded to stand next to the tomb and give the most angry hushed lecture on respect that I have ever seen.  In my house lectures on respect are rarely hushed.  If I was a totally indecent person, this would have made me giggle uncontrollably.  Almost directly afterwards, the lady in line behind us (yes, the same one who was very concerned about respect) said, “Wait, whose tomb is this?”  Ugh.

After our time in the crypt, we exited the building into a courtyard and the bright Italian sunshine.  When we first arrived at the basilica and I learned that entrance was free, I turned to my wife and said, “Betcha there is a gift shop.”  She said no.  I said, “You watch, the Catholics are much better at this making money for God stuff than us Adventists.”  Guess what was right near the exit of both the upper and lower basilicas.  Well played Catholics, well played.  This got me thinking that we Seventh-Day-Adventists could use some saints.  We’re missing some great marketing opportunities.  Saint Desmond Doss?  Saint Ben Carson?  Saint Brian McKnight?  Saint Busta Rhymes?  (Ok, so he’s a former Adventist)  I see it now.  A gift shop at every church where we sell Adventist saint gear.  Books, Christmas ornaments, magnets, decorative prints, shot errrrrrr communion glasses, oh, and gluten based meat substitutes.

 

I know.  It’s been a while.  I’m sorry to have let my 15 readers hang for so long.  Everyone must have been like.

“What happened?”

“Is he dead?”

“Is he on the run from the law?”

“Is he trapped in a public restroom stall because he doesn’t want to touch the door handle?”

Truth is, I was on vacation.  And before that I was feeling less than inspired.  Now everybody’s like.

“Wait, this nonsense requires inspiration?’

Well, not really.  Okay, maybe a little.

ON TO THE STORY

My wife has always wanted to visit Italy.  So this spring we finally decided that we were going to do it.  Three days in Tuscany, Five days in Umbria.  Art, sunshine, food, medieval towns, and food.  I could go on and on about lots of things from this trip, but I have chosen to tell one story.  A story that will live in infamy.  A story that I will remind my wife of when we are old.

The city pictured at the top of this post is Todi, which is located in Umbria.  It is really old, picturesque, and, obviously, located on the top of a hill.  There are several ways to get to the top of this hill. 1-Park near the left side of the photo, and take a gazillion stairs to the 7th century church that looks over the city.  2-Park near the right side of the photo and walk up the gradual slope all the way to the top.  3-Park around the back side of the hill on the left side of the photo and take a small mechanized incline directly to the top.

We had taken the stairs on our first visit to the city, but because I wasn’t sure about the parking situation on the weekend, and I was curious about the incline, I decided to give it a go.  I parked the car and we walked to the small station where the incline would stop to pick us up.  The incline car turned out to be basically an 8×8 glass box that as many people as humanly possible would crowd into before it ascended into the town.  I wasn’t discouraged.  When we got into the line of about twenty people the the doors of the car were just closing.  We watched as it rose away from us.  Then we watched as more people showed up and started to move into line ahead of us.  Turns out Europeans aren’t big on waiting in lines.  They cut more lines than Dwight Gooden, if you know what I mean.  As an American, this offends my sensibilities.  I mean, that kind of thing can get you kicked out of Great Adventure.  Anyway, five minutes later the car car returned.  It filled up again, without us, and left.  I started to jockey for a position to ensure us a spot on the next ride up.  Then,,,,,,,, my wife threw me a curveball.

“I’m not riding on that thing.”

“But.”

“I don’t want to wait another fifteen minutes, and then have to cram myself in there with 20+ people.”

“But, it’s only like five minutes.”

“Yeah right, isn’t there another way up?”

“But,,,,, we’re right here.”

“I AM NOT RIDING THAT THING.”

And,,,,,,,,,, she took off.  And we walked.  And we walked.  She was so determined.  She was so angry.  She had wanted to take the stairs anyway, and I guess this was my fault.  Medieval cities were built with walls surrounding them so that they would be easy to defend.  If we wanted to get into the city we’d have to find one of the old gates.  Like the Israelites at Jericho, we marched around the city walls of Todi.  Me- confused and annoyed.  My wife- apparently just annoyed.  All the way around we went.  From the left side of that photo, to the right.  I know, you may say, “That’s all.  That’s not so bad.”  Well,,,,, then we entered the gates in the city wall and walked back all the way from the right side of the photo to the left.  Did I mention that my wife was determined?  She did not slow down until we reached an old Roman fountain that was more of a trickle than a fountain, and was more full of pigeon poop than water.  Because there were signs guiding people to this “attraction”, we both found this sufficiently amusing to break the tension.  Then we had lunch.  Pizza.  And,,,,,,,,,, wait for it,,,,,,,,,,we rode the incline back to our car (though she was still reluctant).

Now this is the situation that I will use as a benchmark for all other ridiculous situations. Example.

“Isn’t this election season ridiculous?”

“Well, it’s not walking around Todi ridiculous.”

 

PS: Prayers for those affected by the recent earthquakes in Italy.

 

 

Sometimes I like to think about really important things.  For instance, the other day I was wondering why people keep poisonous snakes as pets.  It’s not like snake charmer is a reasonable career choice anymore.  I came to the conclusion that they always want to have a good way to murder their significant other.

Cops:  Your partner was bitten by that black mamba you keep in the family room.  Didn’t you just take out a large insurance       policy?

Person:  What a horrible coincidence.  When they make out the check, remember to tell them that my name is spelled with two R’s.

Enough about snakes.  What I really want to talk about today is my most recent deep thought. Is breakfast really the most important meal of the day?  For years you’ve heard the propaganda.  Gotta get a good start.  Remember your breakfast.  Have an egg, they’re incredible and edible.  Don’t forget to have some milk in that bowl of cereal.  I have to be honest, I just had coffee for breakfast today and I felt pretty good.  Added to that, I enjoy other meals much more than breakfast.  Lunch and dinner are a smorgasbord of diverse tastes.

Where does this propaganda come from?  I think that it all goes back to some kind of shady Milk and Egg Mafia.  Back in the day, the milk and eggs got together in a smoky room at an out of the way dairy farm and had a meeting.  This is how it went.

Eggs:  I call this meeting to order.  We are here to discuss how we are being left out of two of the three meals each day.

Milk:  I’ve put a lot of thought into this, and I see no clear path for us to weasel our way into lunch and dinner.  That is, unless you see quiche as a viable option.

Eggs:  Look, we’re in quiche and we don’t see it as a viable option.

Milk:  It’s settled then.  We’re going to focus on our wheelhouse.  BREAKFAST.  I propose a complete hostile takeover of that one meal.

Eggs:  Genious!

Milk:  If we’re going to focus on one meal, we’ll need an aggressive propagaaaa,,, I mean, advertising campaign.

Eggs:  No problem.  I know a guy who convinced a bunch of people to buy pet rocks.

Milk:  Sounds perfect.  Maybe he could sell breakfast as the “most important meal of the day” and tell people that they can’t afford to go without it.

Eggs:  Other groups are going to want to get in on this.  I know sausage and bacon are also feeling a little left out.

Milk:  For a small fee, I think we can work something out.  But they’ll never be allowed to be served by themselves.  They always must be accompanied by you guys.

Eggs:  Agreed.  The same goes for the cereal.  Absolutely NO cereal without MILK.

Milk:  Our lawyers are also going to have to deal with orange juice, fruit, and syrup.

Eggs:  Yeah, but that should be easy.  I mean really, what other meal are they going to go to.  MWAH HAHAHA.

Milk:  The one thing I’m gonna have to watch out for is milk impostors.  Almond, rice, coconut, anything will call itself milk these days.  If they become too much of a problem I’ll have to send butter after them.  Butter is ruthless.

Eggs:  HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Milk:  BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

It’s not that I don’t like breakfast, I do, but I love the options the other two meals give me.  That makes them the Most Important Meals of the day.  Like Oscar Wilde said, “Only dull people are brilliant at breakfast.”  Let’s go get some burritos.

PS:  Ironically at the time of this writing, bacon has weaseled its way into every meal, including dessert.