This is not a “nice “story

On Sunday morning I took Max, our dearly beloved dog, for a walk as usual. It was early in the morning, not my usual winter 7:30 a.m. or so, but more like 9:00 a.m. since it was Sunday. It was about -20 degrees Celsius (-4 Fahrenheit), not an altogether pleasant temperature for walking.
We were a few blocks into the walk when Max had to go, and I was happy! He “did his business” and I took out my plastic bag from my pocket, unrolled it, put my hand inside and using it like a glove, picked up the “poop” and rolled the bag back around it, and put it back, all in plastic, into my coat packet, as usual.

We moved forward to continue the rest of the walk. Lo and behold, Max had to go again within a few feet. This was a rare case; he only does this maybe once every few months, going twice. I stopped, let him go at it, pulled out the bag, and removed my glove from my right hand as usual because I can’t do much with gloves on. I opened the bag, stuck my hand in and scooped up the rest of his doings. Within moments I realized I had managed to open the bag the wrong way and what was in my hand was a lump of dogshit!

I was picking up the rest correctly, in the unused portion of the outside of the bag!

After a moment of panic, I started to laugh!

I was freezing!

There was a lump of dog shit in my hand!

I had to do something with Max, my dog, the bag and the dog shit all at the same time and I had to get home.

BTW, I had to not put my glove back on because I’d ruin the glove!

Step#1- Get the bag closed on both lumps!

Step #2- Spit on my hand and wipe it on my pants!

Step #3- Get my right glove into my left coat pocket and the bag in my right pocket!

Step#4- Walk Max quickly home with my hand, as well as I could possibly do it, inside my right coat pocket being careful not to wipe it on the sides and hold on to the bag!

Step#5- Do not run into any neighbors who wished to talk! (Not a probability at -20c)

Step#6- Remember the sequence of events so I could write this post.

Beyond the Explainable

image from eyehook.com
My father-in-law passed away on January 27, sometime during the night as he slept, in a nursing home in New Jersey. He had been in the home for the past 18 months and his death came as no surprise, although a death is always a surprise it seems.


I will not go on into a eulogy at this point, as I will be setting up a separate site as a memorial, but instead I’d like to pass on a little story which seems to have significance for this event.

I checked with my mother-in-law later in the day to see if the nursing home could give a time of death, but there were, of course, no monitors and all they could say was that he passed away sometimes before they had gone in to try and wake him. She received the call about 8:00 in the morning.

My wife stayed home and waited for my daughter to return from her exam at high school that morning, and when she told her, my daughter was distraught. Here are the events that occurred the evening before.

I woke up at 12:45 a.m. and came downstairs, not an unusual event, I am always waking up in the middle of the night and coming down to watch some TV until I fall asleep again. I reached up to get a cereal bowl, a nightly routine, when two bowls came crashing down, hitting me in the head right before hitting the counter top, smashing, and falling to the floor scattering broken china all about the room and me. This could have woken up anyone, but I stood quite still waiting to hear stirring sounds before I started to clean up and heard none. I was trying to get my fruit and cereal before going to watch Ghost Hunters, a nightly, when possible, event. I usually, if I can get to the 1:00 a.m. show, watch for about 15 minutes and fall asleep waiting for something to happen. It’s usually a boring show made exciting, as we all wait in anticipation for anything to happen but it never or seldom does.

My daughter woke up at 12:46 a.m., having just had an upsetting dream. She was with our family in my father-in-law’s nursing home when my other daughter was going to try and find her grandfather, whose room had been moved. (This had not really happened but was planned in real life.)

My daughter told her not to go up front to find the new room as their grandfather had not been moved and was right here in this room. However, when she went to go to the room, she was confronted by a sitting figure, a grim reaper sitting outside the room dressed in black with a black hood. Then she woke up!

As I said, “I checked with my mother-in-law later in the day to see if the nursing home could give a time of death, but there were, of course, no monitors and all they could say was that he passed away sometimes before they had gone in to try and wake him. She received the call about 8:00 in the morning.”

I assured her that to the best of my knowledge, my father-in-law had passed at about 12:46 a.m………

Greek Meatballs

I haven’t done a food post in a long time and I feel the need coming on. In my non-linear thinking, why not? It seems to be I just go with what I’m thinking, and fortunately or unfortunately, much of my life had worked that way.

These were fantastic last week. I served them with a Greek salad, orzo, small frozen spinach pies (Spanakopita) from the supermarket and pita on the side. It was a big hit around here.

I hope you appreciate the stories listed on the right side of this blog. They are the top five viewed stories since I started writing this in February, 2009. Give them a look if you have time.


Greek Meatballs

(Adapted from 2005’s South Beach Diet Quick and Easy Cookbook)

1 pound lean ground beef

½ small onion finely chopped

2 cloves garlic finely chopped or 2 tsp. garlic from a jar

½ cup finely crumbled feta cheese (measure crumbled)

1 large egg beaten

1 T extra virgin olive oil

1 T dried oregano

4 tsp. red wine vinegar

½ tsp. salt

¼ tsp. fresh ground black pepper

1 tsp. Greek seasoning (surprisingly available in the supermarket, I never knew it was there)

Preheat oven to 400.

I micro waved the onion for 30 seconds to remove the”bite” of using raw onion.

Combine all ingredients in a large bowl with your hands.

Place parchment paper on a large cookie sheet and form approximately 24 meatballs and place on sheet.

Bake for 20 minutes and turn, bake for another 10 minutes, turn again for another 1 to 10 minutes, until they are brown and cooked through.

They will look awful during the cooking process because the cheese and the vinegar oozes out during cooking and you need to get to that beautiful browned, caramelized state.

Serve with Tzatziki Sauce, easily available at all supermarkets.

I want to see my movies in Pikesville...

“My father never lived to see his dream come true of an all-Yiddish-speaking Canada.” - David Steinberg



“Anytime a person goes into a delicatessen and orders pastrami on white bread, somewhere a Jew dies.” - Milton Berle

“I was raised in the Jewish tradition, taught never to marry a Gentile woman, shave on Saturday and most especially never to shave a Gentile woman on Saturday”. - Woody Allen


I want to see certain movies in my old neighborhood. It’s not a nostalgic thing; it’s a very practical experience to see Jewish themed movies in a Jewish neighborhood.

I always remember in 1974 I saw “Blazing Saddles” in Kansas City. It was a great movie and no, not a particularly Jewish movie.

But, when Mel Brooks says, as the Indian Chief, "Shvartses! (Blacks!) (To Indian raising tomahawk): No, no, zayt nisht meshuge! (Don't be crazy!) (Raising arms to the heavens in stereotypical Indian pose): Loz im geyn! (Let him go!) Cop a walk, it's alright. Abi gezint! (As long as you're healthy!) Take off! (To other Indians): Hosti gezen in dayne lebn? (Have you ever seen such a thing?) They darker than us...", I cried! I screamed! I suddenly realized in the eerie silence that I was the only person in the movie who got the joke!

I have no idea if it’s better to see “Moonstruck” in an Italian neighborhood, or even the “Godfather”, but parts of these films and others will play better in their home territory.

Again, I was the lone Jew when I saw “Sleeper” in 1973. In the scene where they are trying to emulate Woody Allen’s early home life memories, they say in the family tableau, “Stop whining and eat your shiksa!” (This being a non-Jewish female and misused in this context) I screamed! I laughed! I was deafened by the silence. Someone else needs to be there with me to laugh! I felt foolish when it wasn’t necessary.

I saw 1969’s Goodbye Columbus in the “hood” as described. The wedding scene was so real, it was like so many of the weddings I had attended. It was perfect, and was understood by the whole audience.

Crossing Delancy is a wonderful valentine about Jewish Americans in Manhattan. I saw this one with the same kind of ethnic audience that would understand. For that’s why they attended.

All of this was brought to mind by my attendance last weekend of the film, “Barney’s Version”. I loved the book by Mordecai Richler. It is a Canadian story, and I saw it in a Canadian theater. However, it’s a Jewish story, and the wedding scene in this movie is the best! I screamed in this film, there is so much humor as well as sadness, but it was a scream. But, as I mentioned, I was one of very few screamers! They just didn’t get it!

This does not mean that you can only eat Chinese food if you are Chinese or anything silly thing like that, I’m just saying that for me, I like to laugh and cry with the group. I need to see my Jewish themed movies in Pikesville, MD, or somewhere that I won’t be that lonely face in the crowd.

“Even if you are Catholic, if you live in New York you're Jewish. If you live in Butte, Montana, you are going to be goyish even if you are Jewish.” - Lenny Bruce

Dying, One Part at a Time

I had scheduled a dental appointment today, for a re-crowning of an existing crown. This was a tooth that had a root canal already and a crown, and now had decay underneath. My dental insurance does not cover crowns but it was needed, and more are coming.

I went this morning at 8:00 a.m. and the doctor started. It was hard work removing the existing crown, and after 45 minutes, he took off his glasses, took off his gloves and turned to me and said, “There’s no reason to continue, there’s nothing more I can do”.

In a Doctor drama this would be the defining moment of the movie when they open the patient up on the operating table and look inside and declare, “There’s no reason to continue, there’s nothing more I can do”.

After a few awkward moments of discussion, it became clear that no matter what the solution, the first step was removing the tooth. The stub that was left was not to stay, even though I suggested solutions with plaster or chewing gum or perhaps a “flipper”, this tooth was going out.

With a phone call they were able to arrange a visit to the dental surgeon at 11:00 a.m., which gave me time to go to work, deal with a few people and some email, pick up my daughter and a friend from high school exams, drop them at home and get back to the new dentist.

I filled in forms and signed my life away, and was ushered into the room. The tooth next to the offending stub had just added a filling and this new dentist was given instructions not to use that tooth as a fulcrum for removal of the leftover stub. This created additional problems as the removal now had to use many tools. These tools came out and went into my mouth like the tool section of Canadian Tire. He used knives and drills and levers and pliers and finally the pieces came out and I was through.

I was sewn up, given gauze and instructions and sent packing. I was given Tylenol 3, which I’m on as I write this story, although I asked (at both dental offices) for medical marijuana, but to no avail.

I will get an implant or a bridge or a piece of chewing gum, or plaster or a flipper eventually, but for now let the healing begin! It’s back on the lower right and the filling and probably the extraction should be covered by insurance. I have another crown scheduled in a few weeks, a Valentines Day present, and let us hope that this part has not yet died!

Getting old sucks! We all know that, but I expected to be hit by the bus or shot by the jealous husband, not to die one part at a time!

The University Refund

My daughter and I received the following (slightly abbreviated) email:

McGill University
January 12, 2011

This is a notification that your monthly e-bill from Student Accounts is ready.
You have a credit balance of $0.61.

You can choose to leave the credit on your account and it will automatically be applied

towards future charges, e.g. the next semester's tuition and fees. Conversely, you may request

a refund of the credit balance by completing the electronic "Refund Request" form found on

the Student Accounts menu.

Thank You.
McGill University
Financial Services

Please do not respond to this e-mail. Contact information is provided above

should you have any questions. Please provide your McGill id in any correspondence with our office.



I went to her account and looked this up and I found:

NEW! Online refund request form!

In order to request a refund for the credit balance on your account, please complete the new online Refund Request form. The new form can be found on the Student menu ‐> Student Accounts menu ‐>Refund Request menu, or by copying and pasting the URL


I went to the URL and found:

This has moved to a new server. To reach us, please try our web site. For specific pages, substitute /mcgp/ by /pban1/ in your link text. If you reached this page by clicking a link on a McGill site, PDF, email, etc., please notify the ICS Service Desk in order to correct the link.


There is no way to understand or do what they have said. I have no recourse at this point, I guess I’ll just have to leave the credit on the account and it will automatically be applied towards future charges, e.g. the next semester's tuition and fees. I will lose the power and the interest on the $.61, but the school will be able to benefit from the donation I hope.

Maybe they will send me a tax receipt for the interest earned.

The Music in The King's Speech (plus the real speech at the end)

I wanted to write something about the music in “The King’s Speech”. I loved the film and was hardly aware of the score, although it’s quite good by itself.


But there's a moment in the film that absolutely soars. It comes near the end when our poor hero has had his coronation and has become George VI after his brother abdicated the throne.

Superbly played by Colin Firth, he dreaded public speaking because of a speech impediment. He was horrified when he had to ascend the throne in 1937 because he knew what the job entailed.

Two years later, he gave a major speech that BBC Radio broadcast throughout the empire, announcing Britain's entry into World War II. The speech serves as the climax of the film.

The film lets time drag as we see him struggle to form words. It's excruciating. I found myself tensing up each time he tries.

The buildup to the climax begins as he and Logue (his speech therapist) walk Buckingham Palace's endless corridors toward the broadcast room, passing dozens of broadcasters who wish him well. At last, they enter the room with the microphone. They're alone. Logue throws open the window -- he believes fresh air helps -- as the King tries to compose himself.

The countdown begins -- four blinks of a red light followed by steady red. The King’s fear is hard to watch.

And then as he first struggles, we hear ominous musical chords. Moments later, the calm, gentle Allegretto of Beethoven's Seventh Symphony spreads over the pulsing rhythm.

With Logue silently prompting him through the difficult spots, the sweet, melancholic music unfolds, building in intensity, then subsiding, lasting exactly as long as the speech.

The scene brims with feeling between patient and therapist, who went on to became lifelong friends. It's a wondrous moment. If ever music and plot matched, this is it.

A moment later, at the movie's ending, we hear more Beethoven: the slow movement of the "Emperor" Piano Concerto. It too, is a perfect fit.

Music never really plays a crucial role as the events of The King’s Speech play out. There is this but one powerful example of music in the film’s climactic scene,

The musical score for The King’s Speech is by Alexandre Desplat,

Beethoven's Symphony No. 7, the allegretto movement has been heard in a few other films, most recently in the film “Knowing”’ with Nicholas Cage”.










King George's actual speech ::

http://archives.cbc.ca/on_this_day/12/25/

The Pharmacist

My parents did not want me to become an artist!


They wanted me to be a pharmacist. Now I know that sounds weird, but my uncle was a pharmacist, and in those days the pharmacist sort of replaced the local doctor dispensing usable medical advice. And in my parents world, this was a way to combine a profession with a business, and you could end up having your own store and being a pillar of society.

If not, I could work at the supermarket. My father knew the supermarket paid pretty well, did not require any specialized education and was secure, at that time. My mother especially wanted me to go to college and get a degree, because she knew this would be important in the longer run.

I wanted to be an interior designer. I didn’t know much about interior design, but I liked the idea. It seemed like something I would like and could do. My father liked the idea because at its root I would be a furniture salesman, and he understood that quite well. He was willing to allow me to go to art school because that sort of worked for him.

That year I met some interior designers and they were gay! In those days we did not call them gay, that is too gentle for the times, but I figured that if you were one of those you needed to be gay and I wasn’t and I wasn’t going to become one, no way! So I told my parents I was going to be a commercial artist. Now days we would call them graphic designers, but not so in those times. My father liked that one, it was commercial and you could get a job.

We all started at the same place in our first, foundation year. All art students had the same base year, and we made our decision for the major at the end of the year. When I made my decision that in the second year I would be a painting major, my father ran off looking for the phone book trying to find the number for the supermarket!

Thankfully, my mother prevailed, and even though she couldn’t ever really figure out what I was going to do to make a living until many years later, she was smart enough and persistent enough to convince my father to let me continue.

Now, more than 50 year later, I have only not been directly connected in some way to an art school for a brief year or two. I may be the poster boy for an art education!

Cupcakes

I really like this one. My daughter is in the 11th grade (for my American readers) and in Grade 11 (for Canadians). One of the classes she takes is Ceramics, always a sure winner in my family. My youngest son went to college to major in Ceramics although he ended up in sculpture, and all my kids have had some relationship with clay.


I was so surprised the other night when I found my daughter, the baker, as some of you must know, working on a mini-cupcake extravaganza for seemingly no known (by me) reason. It’s not unusual for her to be baking, she does it often, but she was paying an unusual interest in finishing these things just right. I asked what was going on and was told she had an assignment in ceramics to make a miniature container of some sort and she was completing the project.

The chief piece you will see is a ceramic box, the rest of the display are mini-cupcakes made to look like each other.

The teacher and the students had the chance to view her exhibit and eat all but one of the examples!

Grinding my coffee...

I received a few pounds of whole bean coffee for my birthday, and I decided it would be fun to grind coffee myself, A few friends of mine and my brother-in-law all do it, and I figured it was worth a try.


My options were limited. I guess I could have gone to somewhere that had a grinder and beg them, or surreptitiously sneak in to the super market and grind my coffee in their grinder. I could have rescued our hand cranked coffee grinder from my basement storage, a 19th century model, beautiful and antique, and probably great for coffee you boil for a while. Instead, I decided to buy one.

I knew we used to have one, a blade model, which had been used for spices and would impart a bad taste for coffee at this point. My brief investigation on the internet gave me the new concept that a burr grinder was necessary if I was going to be a player in this new world. I was getting hooked!

I looked around on the net and found models ranging from about $100 to several thousand. I was getting unhooked!

I needed a deal. Looking around, I found a Black and Decker model that sounded like what I wanted and retailed for $35 to $40 in Canada. Things are more expensive here and less is available. Sending things here from the US is often difficult or very expensive. Often, I send stuff to my mother-in-law and pick it up when we’re in New Jersey. But, I wanted to use this one now, so I bit the bullet and went out and for $35 plus all our taxes, I got the Black and Decker.

What I should have done before I bought it was looked at reader’s experiences, but I didn’t.

One of the web sites I looked at recommended a small Cuisinart one that was their version of a “Best Buy”; low end, (around $100) and good quality. My brother-in-law had one of these, I believe.

The Canadian Tire web site had a few readers’ comments which weren’t too bad. I hadn’t looked at Amazon.com yet, not until after I purchased it. I read these and my heart was stilled. There were 93 of them! This is a record for consumer’s comments in my world; this is only done if something is hated! Here are just a few edited versions, not all the bad ones:

*What this is not: a highly precise burr grinder with a wide range of grind settings


What this is: a very good alternative to a blade grinder that grinds at a lower speed (as all burr grinders do), and thus won't burn the beans and is relatively quiet


I think it's safe to say that the manufacturer didn't intend this grinder to compete with high-end burr grinders, like the great one from Kitchen Aid. This grinder sells at the same price point of blade grinders, albeit with a slight premium. And, for good reason.


This grinder provides a relatively consistent grind size (there's even a mod listed in these reviews that promises to help). The size of grind on the smallest and the largest settings really is not that different - it clearly does not have the range of a serious burr grinder. But, as a casual burr grinder, this thing is great.


*If you need an occasional grinder, like if your friend gives you beans occasionally or if you want to get started in grinding without a large investment - this grinder is a great value. If, however, you want a grinder capable of grinding coffee beans into the almost-flour-like espresso and the large almost-pebble-size-grind for your French press, and you expect this grinder to do all that - what are you thinking?


Someone included a”how to repair” the new item (why bother?)
*Paid $19 at Target and was dismayed at the random grind it produced. Realized it was a good design, just poorly executed. Here is how to fix it:


1. Pop out the top grinding head as per the cleaning instructions.


2. Carefully unscrew the two screws securing the grinding head to the plastic insert.


3. Trace the circular grinding head on a business card.


4. Cut this out to make a gasket that will fit between the grinding plate and the plastic insert.


5. Re-assemble and insert into the hopper as per the cleaning instructions.


Now it will grind your coffee beans consistently to whatever degree you want.


I'd give it 5 stars for value, but it should have been made right in the first place!

*coffee aficionado friend who roasts his own coffee once told me that for uniformity of ground size, mill grinders generally were considered best, followed by burr grinders, then blade ones. Not wanting to spend over $100 for a mill, when I saw this Black & Decker burr-mill grinder at a reasonable price, I figured, "Why not?" My current blade grinder was old; was it time to upgrade to a better grinder? This does look a lot better on a countertop than the round conventional blade grinders. The answer, I discovered, in summary, is "No," because THIS IS A DISASTER MASKING AS A COFFEE GRINDER.


*I've learned that with my blade grinder I get the most uniform grounds, as fine as I want, by holding and shaking it while grinding, counting to a given number, depending on the amount of coffee. Usually about 20 seconds is sufficient. Leaving it on the counter sans shaking still gives decent grind uniformity, but I am a perfectionist where possible, so I suspend and shake while grinding. With this burr grinder, it takes 30 seconds to grind 4 rounded tablespoons of beans, about 60 seconds plus for making enough for a pot of coffee. As with all home grinders you have to hold the switch on. Say a prayer while waiting for this to finish grinding.


*With the Black and Decker Burr Mill Coffee Bean Grinder, I ran several test grindings, with the adjustable grind control on various settings. I learned quickly that the only usable setting is on the "finest" grind, because the other settings made a grind so coarse as to be unsatisfactory even in percolator coffee makers. The knob and adjustment no doubt was put there to improve marketability of the product.


*READ THIS: with the B&D burr mill grinder a UNIFORM grind is impossible, regardless of fineness. A FINE grind is impossible; a MEDIUM GRIND without uniformity requires a second pass of the first grinding. It does, however, do a great job of making a non-uniform medium-coarse grind. Thus, the grounds will work OK in a percolator coffee maker, which uses a coarser grind. Do you use a drip coffee maker? Forget it.


What's more? Convenience and cleanliness. Never thought these would be issues with a simple machine? They are. The grinder comes with a brush, NEEDED to clean the spout and the dust particles that stick to the insides of the deep receptacle for the grounds. If you don't use it, the spout will ultimately clog with old grounds, and, even if it doesn't clog initially, per the instructions the oils in the residual grounds around the spout can become rancid. Moral? Cleaning is necessary. Further, the grounds receptacle is in two parts. Thus, to use the grounds you have to take the cover off and not misplace it. When you do, often a few grounds find their way to the countertop. Ergo, cleanup. Remember that you have to keep track of the brush and store it, also. More? Yep. The manual says the receptacle for grounds must be hand-washed; it's apparently not top-dishwasher safe.


*This grinder is a waste of money.


It does not grind with any uniformity, large chunks mixed with fine grounds


Not suitable for espresso or Turkish, or any fine grind requirements.


Spend a bit more and get a quality product with good reviews


I wish i had stayed at home........


*This is a good looking coffee grinder and doesn't take up a whole lot of space.


The bad:


1) No variation in the grind settings. It seems to grind the coffee the same at every setting.


2) Noisy. I owned a prior brand that just hummed. This one is loud.


3) Dropped lid to the grinder box and it shattered. Now looking for a replacement box and lid. Durability. Poor.


*Over the years I had heard that conical burr grinders are much better than blade grinders, but I always thought it's proponents to be gullible. My blade grinder worked just fine. It didn't "overheat" my coffee as far as I could tell, so what did I care if it used a blade or a burr? In fact, what the heck is a burr? But then I got into roasting green coffee beans myself, which puts one immediately in touch with the very upper-class coffee snobs. I soon started to get ridiculed by my fellow roasters: "What, you roast your own coffee but still use a blade grinder?" So, being the cheap fool that I am, I went to Walmart and bought one of these inexpensive Black and Decker burr grinders. It took me about a half hour with it to discover that even on it's finest setting it can only obtain a very very course grind and therefore results in a very thin, blah cup of coffee. So I stuck the brand new Black and Decker in the garage and put my old blade grinder back on the kitchen counter and my coffee tasted good again. I would never have bought another burr grinder myself, but my brother ended up giving me a Solis Crema Maestro burr grinder for my birthday. Well, I love it. I think the coffee does taste better, but who really knows since every pot of coffee tastes different to me anyway. But this Black and Decker thing is not to be taken seriously. It's a step backwards, not forwards. Don't make the same mistake I did. Keep using your blade grinder until your brother gives you a real conical burr grinder or you save up for a real conical burr grinder. Or just keep using your blade grinder; it's ok, I won't tell anyone.


*I bought this about 2 weeks ago. I think I got about 3 grinds worth before it clogged and smoked.
I was able to unclog it, though that was not easy, and I got another grind out of it before it died completely. It's not really serviceable, I threw it away. I feel like my money was outright stolen from me. I would be ashamed to put my name on a product this bad.


*If I could give negative stars, I would. Apparently, the container does not fit correctly into the grinder, resulting in coffee dust and grids that cover EVERYTHING in about a three-foot radius. I'm contacting the manufacturer to find out what to do.


*Like everyone else here, I found the B&D CBM210 grinder to look great and work like crap. It's Turkish/espresso grind was too big for a drip coffee maker. The coarsest settings were too fine for French press.


BUT...a guy on here came up with a solution...take the 2 screws out of the removable grinder part; trace the circle on a business card (or paper with similar thickness), cut it out and place it in the bottom of the grinder and place the top burr on top. Replace the screws. The whole process will take you 5 minutes.


What you will get is a grinder that now can grind perfect espresso grind. I bought as an espresso grinder...so I did not try the other settings.


I was going to return the unit, but thanks to that guy, it works and I love it now. To the guy that took the time to figure out the problem and the solution...THANK YOU!! You should be working at B&D :) You are brilliant! Thank you so much!


*This product was horrible. I saw it on the shelf at Wal-Mart and decided to buy it. I thought that a burr mill grinder for under 30 dollars was too good to be true....It was. I bought it to use for espresso, which requires an extremely fine grind of coffee. The grind came out the same no matter what setting you put it on. Everything came out from coffee dust to (literally) whole coffee beans. This machine is useless for almost every type of coffee. Too coarse for espresso and drip coffee machines. There are many fine coffee particles that would slip through the filter of a French press. I returned this product the next day. This is a lesson, never buy something that sounds too good to be true until you read the reviews.


*When I first purchased this grinder I loved it. It was inexpensive, small, and seemed to operate just fine. I tried different grinder settings to maximize the grind for my automatic drip coffee maker. After using it I realized it had several significant shortcomings. You have to use a minimum of 50% more beans to get the same strength coffee. This "hidden expense" make this a long term very expensive grinder. And even more important, the quality of the coffee from this grinder is notably inferior to the coffee made from beans ground with the grinder I replaced it with (Infinity Conical Burr model 560 - which I LOVE). Another problem with the Black & Decker grinder is the chamber where the ground coffee collects has a lid which when placed on the counter while you are making coffee makes a notable mess. I was constantly cleaning up after the Black & Decker grinder. The Black & Decker Burr Coffee Grinder is expensive to use, makes inferior coffee, and makes a mess.


*This grinder looks good, but most coffee fans don't want coarse grounds coming out of an aesthetically pleasing machine. Take my advice: Don't waste your money on this contraption. Either settle for using a hammer on your coffee beans or consider another manufacturer. This model is a piece of junk. My new BW is going into the garbage and I'm going back to the store -- for a European model. The folks at BW need to either stick to making drills or bring their development department up to speed.




They were all right! It was horrible. I tried it three times, and the coffee was terrible, thin and not drinkable. All the grind sizes were the same, coarse and not usable. I tried to regrind the ground coffee to no avail. It was a mess.

I returned the unit as unacceptable and went on my way.

I wasn’t going to accept defeat.

I ordered the $100 Cuisinart from Amazon for $43.54 with free shipping and no tax and sent it to New Jersey. Whatever happens, we’ll know in March when we’re back from March Break!

An Old Truth About Booze

In September I wrote that my wife, just back from Scotland, wanted to bring back a bottle of Balvenie Doublewood Scotch she had tried on her trip. “It was wonderful”, she exclaimed, “but hard to bring back because it didn’t work in the one liter bag you are allowed for liquids, so it couldn’t come back carried on and therefore it had to travel in her luggage. This would add weight, and in the end her suitcase weighed 48.5 pounds, just a pound and a half below the limit. As well, if it broke in transit, it would have ruined a lot of clothing including a beautiful hand knit sweater she had just purchased for herself. She also had to take it on two planes, one from Edinburgh, Scotland to Newark, NJ, and another from Newark, NJ to Buffalo, NY, giving it another opportunity to break.


The price at the duty-free in Edinburgh was 36 pounds. Translated into dollars it’s about $57. The price on line in the UK from the factory seems to be 29.95 pounds, or about $48. In the US, on line, its $64 delivered. She was concerned that she would not be able to find it at the US border Duty-Free in Niagara Falls or in Canada at the LCBO. As well, if she found it, what would the price be, given the travel costs? However, clear heads won out and she left it in Scotland and hoped to find it here.

On the way back from the airport yesterday we found it at the duty free. The price, $41.

On Saturday night I was asked for a scotch. We had beer and wine available, but all of the booze had been moved to the garage to clear out some room for the party. I went into the garage and the only scotch I could find was the Balvenie, and there was but a bit left in the bottle. Being a gracious host I poured a drink in a glass and brought it to my guest, hoping he wouldn’t ask for more.

Later in the evening he asked my wife for another, and she and a friend went out to the garage. All she could find was a now all but drained bottle of Balvenie and they found a half full bottle of Grant’s scotch, a lesser drink for sure. Our friend, being an old hand at this, took the Grant’s, poured it into the Balvenie bottle and brought it out and put it on the bar. The scotch drinker was pleased, and later on another friend came by and had some himself. Both of them admired the flavor and were pleased with the drink.

So, as the old story goes, always give them the good stuff for the first drink, and later make the switch and no one will ever know!

The Letter

I received a large envelope on a Thursday a week or two ago. It was from our insurance company, and I picked it up from my office mailbox at the end of the day. I put it into my briefcase, recognizing the logo on the envelope as our insurance company and knowing, of course, it's the beginning of the new year. This therefore registered on my conscience mind as the annual calendar. The truth be known, this company never really sends out a calendar, but it was a big envelope and it was January and I was in a hurry so into the briefcase it went.

Well into the following week I looked in the top of the briefcase and saw the letter. I was going to chuck it out into the recycling when something internal grabbed me. “Maybe I better look at it”, I said to myself. “perhaps it’s not a calendar”.

This story should end here and I post a photo of the new 2011 calendar I received, but lo and behold it was a letter and a check for $1,575.00 as a rebate for a change in policy during our renovation!

I have learned a lesson here, never judge an envelope by it’s size!

69th Birthday Party

It’s hard not to be rude when you decide to have a 69th birthday party. It’s the magic number that does it. While we tried (OK, not me but my family) to be adult about all of it, some of the humor gets through.


What I said in the preamble letter along with the invitation was:
This is a serious invitation, regardless of what you may think, and my wife is serious about this list as well. She has limited it to my very best friends (and their companions, spouses, partners etc.) in her estimation, even though I may not know you at all. Regardless, I find it amusing that she is so serious about it. I made several suggestions and she blackballed those immediately.(She is surrounding me with people she believes may really like me and are not just my friends because of the money!)


I started this idea of a 69th birthday party because of all the sexual innuendos that my wife has now made me remove from everything
So, as you see the invitation and recognize the insane intent if the birthday boy, we can only say it's my our own little joke.

Let's keep it under our hat!

God love it, when you get this old ya' gotta' figure you only have so many of these babies left!

All my love,

Arthur

We had a great time with Asian-Inspired Tapas and Birthday Cake! The food was done by my wife and daughter with a bit of help from me. I chose not to open gifts last night as some may have been inappropriate. I know at least one couple went shopping at the Adult Book Store but may have ended up getting nothing there. It remains to be seen. However, there was lots of food, lots of laughs and lots of drinking! I was delighted with all of it, including the company.

Next year my wife threatens to do a big one, and I just told my sister-in-law in Texas that I am planning to go to a mountain cabin alone as a birthday treat next year. However, I can’t imagine really doing such a thing. I guess I thrive on people.

Truths (this came to me in an email a few days ago from an old friend)

I wish I made these up but sadly, like much of the good material we read, they came in an email. Some of it may not be politicall correct, but sometimes I'm not either. However, as I said, I didn't wrte it.

1. I think part of a best friend's job should be to immediately clear your computer history if you die.


2. Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong.

3. I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger.

4. There is great need for a sarcasm font.

5. How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?

6. Was learning cursive really necessary?

7. Map Quest really needs to start their directions on # 5. I'm pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.

8. Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.

9. I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind of tired.

10. Bad decisions make good stories.

11. You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you know that you just aren't going to do anything productive for the rest of the day.

12. Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after Blue Ray? I don't want to have to restart my collection...again.

13. I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten-page technical report that I swear I did not make any changes to.

14. I keep some people's phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call.

15. I think the freezer deserves a light as well.

16. I disagree with Kay Jewelers. I would bet on any given Friday or Saturday night more kisses begin with Miller Lite than Kay.

17. I wish Google Maps had an "Avoid Ghetto" routing option.

18. I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger.

19. How many times is it appropriate to say "What?" before you just nod and smile because you still didn't hear or understand a word they said?

20. I love the sense of camaraderie when an entire line of cars team up to prevent a jerk from cutting in at the front. Stay strong, brothers and sisters!

21. Shirts get dirty. Underwear gets dirty. Pants? Pants never get dirty, and you can wear them forever.

22. Sometimes I'll look down at my watch three consecutive times and still not know what time it is.

23. Even under ideal conditions people have trouble locating their car keys in a pocket, finding their cell phone, and Pinning the Tail on the Donkey - but I'd bet everyone can find and push the snooze button from 3 feet away, in about 1.7 seconds, eyes closed, first time, every time.

24. The first testicular guard, the "Cup," was used in Hockey in 1874 and the first helmet was used in 1974. That means it only took 100 years for men to realize that their brain is also important.

My 60th Birthday Party

For my 60th birthday party (I’m on a roll here), I had already moved to Ontario for a year, and knew some people. We decided to hold the party at the school, giving me unlimited space and no cost for the hall. We were able to invite many friends, neighbors and all of my Board to the party, and we ended up with 63 people. All three of my sons traveled north to be here as they had done at my 50th.


It was a really nice affair, with lots of food, speeches and some fun. I had been presented with a new Martin Guitar earlier in the day, given to me by my whole family, and there were a few songs and poems delivered. I even got to do a solo, no doubt inappropriate, with John Prine’s “Billy the Bum”.
My wife had arranged for a surprise for me. I saw a guy standing there that I didn’t recognize. I thought he was the husband of one of my Board members that I had yet to meet. He came over and talked to me for a while and then he pulled out a deck of cards and started to do tricks. He was really great and that’s when I realized my wife had arranged for a slight of hand magician to work the crowd.

He wandered through and everyone was impressed and amazed.Unfortunately I have no photos of the magician.

Next year I hope we get to a 70th party and I can continue on this theme.

50th Birthday Party

It was February 15, 1992. We were at the Hawthorne Hotel in Salem, Massachusetts. It was a subdued affair. A lovely dinner was had by all. Present were myself, my mother, my middle son Brian and my wife or at least those are the people pictured (except my wife who was taking photos.) My other two sons were present as well as my daughter-in-law and my new daughter, just six weeks old, was home with a baby sitter.

We figured it was our 158th birthday party. I was 50, my mother had just turned 80 and my son had just become 28. The cake indicates the years in the candles.

We wandered in top the restaurant, the table decorated for our party with balloons tied to the chairs and table top decorations. We had a great dinner

Outside the restaurant were about 100 people smoking, sitting in the crowded lobby, and it was like going through a battle field dense with smoke to arrive at our destination. A well known local hypnotist had a stop smoking seminar there that evening and these were people having their last cigarette before entering the hall.

Undaunted, we had an elegant birthday dinner.

Later, my sons and I played with my new Sega Genesis, the video console purchased by the boys for their Dad's 50th.

I went to bed and they were up for hours playing Sonic.

I'm Trying to find the Photos

I've been on a roll with my 34th and my 40th birthday parties, and now I was prepared to do my 50th. However, last night I looked for the photographs and I was not able to find them. My wife has offered to help me tonight and I hope to complete this cycle.

These were all taken way before digital prints, and the only place they exist is in albums. I went through specialized albums of Halloween photos, kid's birthday parties and dance recitals, as well as years spent in various places and vacation albums, but no 50th birthday event. So, tonight I'll try again.

My 40th Birthday

On my 40th birthday, I decided to throw myself a surprise party.

Everyone understood that it was a joke, and that I wasn’t going to be surprised, actually everyone except my dear friend Harry Smallenburg who assumed I meant it was for my wife and did bring a present for her. However, it was great fun, not too many surprises except someone sent Miss Piggy to see me which I didn’t expect.

Having had a real surprise party for my 30th birthday, and being in the last days of my less than happy married life, it was clear that my wife was not going to be throwing me a party, so I threw it myself. To be fair, she was a willing participant, and would be today if asked.


The party was great fun, and while I have not much memory of the event, I have the photos!

My 34th Birthday

Being that’s it’s the verge of my 69th birthday, one I hate to admit to, I thought I’d reminisce about a few birthdays I can remember.


On my 34th birthday, I had a weird surprise party given to me by some of my dear friends, but it was stranger than a “normal” one. They had planned that we all would go out, but when they arrived to pick us up I was blindfolded. They had a marvelous time driving me all over, as I had no idea where I was going, and when I arrived I had no idea where I was. They were all excited by the opening of Farrell’s, a new deli/ice cream parlor which is was a big franchise in the US, but I had never heard about.

Farrell’s is currently a revived business trying to regain the feeling of the old Farrell’s, an Old Tyme Ice Cream Parlor. A blindfold was superfluous, because I never knew about it anyway but it gave everyone great fun, except maybe me.
Led into the madhouse, it was a full restaurant, where we ordered a six foot sub (it looks like) and some giant ice cream sundaes. I remember they would come out and sing songs about you if you ordered certain sundaes like the Trough, where they insinuated you were a pig. All employees would rush out at a moments notice for various reasons and sing or scream at the correct moment.

I was the birthday boy, so when my giant sundae for the group, I think, came out, a million young people came rushing over and made me stand on a chair and announce how old I was and what my name was and they screamed and they sang! This would not work for the shy types, as it would traumatize anyone of any age and create an atmosphere conducive to assuming a fetal position for a few weeks.

The food was good, the atmosphere raucous and we all had a good time, and we all went to a friend’s house later and drank heavily.

It was a great birthday!

Barry's Mom

So here we have another story I can’t remember if I’ve told, or if it really matters as most normal people, even if they read this blog often, could not have read it all. It is a tale that I could have told a time or two.


Barry used to drive to school most mornings when we commuted to college, and he’d take Bob and me with him. Now I can’t remember if this was every day, as I for sure had a car, but it seemed like he drove often, and we lived near each other in the beginning, as we all lived at home. Later on two of us were married, and lived elsewhere, although we all stayed friends for years to come.

Anyway, Barry had an old Ford I believe, as did I. Mine was a 1950, his was probably ’51 or ’52 and I believe it was a two door, which is a great part of the story.

Barry took his mother to work often, as she worked at Mondawmin Mall in Baltimore, and it was right on our way to art school.

Barry’s right hand car door was broken. Something happened, maybe a lock problem or an accident caused lock problem, but it doesn’t matter today, the door just didn’t shut properly. In the 50’s and 60’s, you took care of these kinds of things yourself, and you did as best as you could. A broken door initially was repaired by using a piece of rope, tying it through the front and back windows, around the pillar and thus hold the door together. This was a simple solution of course, but it would work for a time until you figured out what to do next.

One morning, we all were going to school and work, with Barry’s Mom in the front seat, and Barry made a particularly sharp right turn around a corner. He was not going fast, the door opened (as would sometimes happen) and his Mom fell out of the car!

The story was funny because she was a trooper, she wasn’t hurt, she dusted herself off and we continued the trip.

Barry did fix the door, his mother continued to drive with us and all was forgiven.

Parking Lot Scam BEWARE !!

Warning for Older men 


Please, family and special friends, stay safe! Read this to the end,

thoroughly.


Women often receive warnings about protecting themselves at the mall and in

dark parking lots, etc. This is the first warning I have seen for men. I

wanted to pass it on in case you haven't heard about it.


A 'heads up' for those men who may be regular customers at Lowe's, Home

Depot, Costco or even Wal-Mart.


This one caught me totally by surprise. I became a victim of this clever

scam while out shopping. Simply going out to get supplies has turned out to

be quite traumatic. Don't be naive enough to think it couldn't happen to you

or your friends.


Here's how the scam works:


Two nice-looking, college-aged girls will come over to your car or truck as

you are packing your purchases into your vehicle. They both start wiping

your windshield with a rag and Windex in some skimpy outfits. (It's

impossible not to look.) When you thank them, and offer them a tip, they say

'No,' but instead, ask for a ride to someplace close to eat.


You agree, and they climb into the vehicle. On the way, they start

undressing. Then one of them starts crawling all over you, while the other

one steals your wallet.

I had my wallet stolen Sept. 4th, 9th, 10th, 15th, 17th, 20th, 24th, &

29th. Also Oct. 1st & 4th, twice on the 8th, 13th, 14rd, 17th, and very

likely again this upcoming weekend.


So tell your friends to be careful. What a horrible way to take advantage

of us older men. Warn your friends to be vigilant.


BTW: Wal-Mart has wallets on sale for $2.99 each. I found even cheaper ones

2 for $.99 at the dollar store, and bought them out in three of their

stores. I've already lost 11 pounds just running back and forth from Lowe's,

to Home Depot, to Costco, etc.


So please, send this on to all the older men that you know, and warn them

to be on the lookout for this scam. (The best times are just before lunch

and around 4:30 in the afternoon.)


Let's be safe out there...

Airport Trip

We started out on a snowy morning (Tuesday) with my mother-in-law to get to Toronto’s Pierson Airport for an early morning flight. We left at 6:15 a.m. and went off to pick up my elder daughter at a friends house because she also was on her way back home. They were both leaving within a half of an hour of each other from what looked like the same terminal.


This was a very early and uneventful trip, and in about an hour and fifteen minutes we were at the airport. This was expected to be the hard part of this journey, but it was the easy one.

I was heading for Terminal Three departures when my daughter decided I had no idea where I was going and began to demand that I follow her directions. Given it was dark and I was tired, I followed her lead and looked for the West Jet area to drop her off. It did not exist, and all I could basically find was Air Canada because she had led me to Terminal One. She was yelling that I simply had driven too fast by what must have been West Jet, but I decided to go park and we still had enough time to get there.

The first place (Terminal Three) I was heading was correct, but she wanted me to follow the road. We needed to be in Terminal Three for my daughter and I was heading that way when she intervened.

I parked in what turned out to be Terminal One parking and we proceeded to head toward the Terminal. We went in doors and down escalators and up elevators and found we were heading toward the wrong Terminal and had to go up escalators and down elevators and get on a train. The train took us to Terminal Three and we got to West Jet and watched my daughter check in, and we said good bye and went off to get to Continental Airlines and drop off my mother-in-law.

I kept saying to myself, “Terminal One Parking, Level Six, Space J-20”, over and over, so I could eventually find my car.

We looked around and there seemed to be no Continental counter so I asked and was told we needed to be in Terminal One for Continental even though her ticket clearly said Terminal Three.

My mother-in-law had just turned 83 and this was very upsetting for us both, and she was beginning to run out of time. So, we took and elevator and an escalator and we got to the train and went to Terminal One.

We arrived at the Continental desk in Terminal One and tried to check in at one of those computer kiosks and found none of her numbers matched any of the questions asked. They needed for international flights way more stuff then they need for domestic flights and I couldn’t find it. We got in the line and found out she was late, her flight number had changed and she ran the possibility of missing the whole thing. The fretful attendant told her not to worry although he clearly was out of control trying to find a solution. He called for a wheel chair and an attendant, who called for a porter for her bag, and they rushed her off to the gate which we were told was a 15-20 walk.

She made it home with no problems from that point on and my daughter made it back to Montreal in a quick bit with no waiting for luggage or cabs and only I was the wreck in the end.

I went to a Starbucks with no money because I had to give my mother-in-law my last $5 to cover a tip for the porter. They did have debit, and I had a large coffee, which was generously served too full, and it popped open and scalded my hand as I walked! I had to kick the top off to the side of the airport walk way, hobble over to a trash can and pour off a few inches of coffee, and get back to Starbucks and retrieve a new top and a pile of napkins to solve my wet and painful problem.

I kept saying to myself, “Terminal One Parking, Level Six, Space J-20”, over and over, so I could find my car, and I did! At least that part went well.

The Mystery Family

This family photographic postcard fell out of a pile of photos. It surfaced in the early 80’s, but no one who would have known who these people were was left to tell the tale.


We believe the photo was taken in Russia. The writing on the back, from which we thought we could derive a clue, leaves us clueless. Several scholars (my mother’s words when she was alive and involved with this) have looked at it and could not make a determination as to what it says.

We assumed these were cousins of my maternal Grandparents, or so my mother seemed to believe, and these were her parent’s photographs


I believe, after several attempts were made, that the postcard is written in phonetic Russian (or even Lithuanian) but with Hebrew script characters, the same way Yiddish is written with Hebrew characters.

The only person capable of translating this would be someone who can speak both Hebrew and Russian. So far, I’ve not met anyone.

So. If you know these guys, drop me a line…….

Ghosts of New Years Past

I told the story last year about stealing my friend Mike from the hospital on New Years Eve, which was the best one I could think of. I’ve tried to remember memorable New Years and they have escaped me. A lot of planning went into not much. Too much anticipation when I was younger.


I am having a hard time with this memory. It’s New Years Eve and its about 2:30 a.m. The year is maybe 1957 or so and I’m on the road with some other guys. I think it was only guys and it’s perhaps past party times and our dates are home in their beds.

We stop for gas somewhere in Virginia in the only open place we can find. It’s small, seedy and there are two or three guys sitting around with a dog. The dog is humping the leg of one of the guys who are all encouraging the dog to keep it up. They continued to yell,” F**k ‘em baby!”

As much like a very bad dream as it sounds, it’s a real story but I have blocked out any significant details.

In the early 80’s we had an ice storm on New Years Eve in Detroit, and we were all pretty much without electricity for three days. My condo was on the first floor, and the water heater was below it in the basement. The gas was working and heat travels up, so my bedroom was the only warm place in the house. I entertained in the bedroom for then three days.

We went to visit a friend‘s house who was away for the holidays and her freezer was dripping juices out of the door as everything had thawed.

I just remembered having dinner reservations at an upscale Chinese restaurant in Troy, MI for 8:30 p.m., and I had a date (I'm not sure with who) and when we got there we discovered they must have said yes to everyone who called for reservations, and they had about 500 people waiting for 8:30! I never even made it into the door! We chose a downscale Chinese restaurant in Birmingham without any reservations needed.

I am having a hard time finding any significant New Years for me. I stayed away from places that gave you a paper hat and a whistle, and “dancing ‘til dawn”, but to no avail.

This years we went out for an early family dinner which was great and came home and I slept through a movie on TV and woke up to watch the ball drop.

Oh, well, Happy New Year.