Steamed Cajun Sweet Potatoes

My first clue came about 10 seconds after placing it in my mouth.  It was my very first mouthful.  You would think after all these years I would know better than to put in so much on my first mouthful.  But I don’t know any better.  In many ways I am still a kid at heart, eating is one of those ways.  I no longer eat mud pies or put things in my mouth on a dare from my friends, but I am still stupid enough to stick a mouthful of something new in my mouth without tasting a small piece first.  I can’t help it.  I gave up trying a long time ago and just accept things like that as personality flaws and I learn to live with it.

Tonight my eating adventure involved a mixture of some new spices I recently acquired.  I got some new Cajun spice, Chipotle seasoning, Louisiana hot sauce, and crushed red peppers.  Any experienced connoisseur of hot spices could tell you that the intensity of any one of those spices could vary significantly for many reasons, such as ingredients used, processing methods, aging time, packaging, etc..  I certainly know such a thing, but that doesn’t stop me from being an idiot.

There’s just something about adding spices to food.  For me, that “something” is a lack of restraint.  Not that I follow recipes, but let’s say for the sake of example that I did.  If a recipe called for “a pinch” of some spice, I’m going to probably use about a tablespoon or two.  If a recipe calls for a tablespoon, I’ll probably use about a quarter cup or so.  I basically just sprinkle some on in between adding every ingredient.  The more ingredients a dish takes, the hotter it’s going to come out if I have anything to do with it.

Tonight I was in the mood for something with black beans.  I had just soaked and cooked about a pound of black beans yesterday so today it was time to make something to use them.  I was in the mood for my famous black bean/turkey chili, but I didn’t have all the necessary ingredients and didn’t feel like running out to the store.  When I’m hungry, I’m ready to eat, not ready to go shopping.  So once again I was reduced to using whatever I found in the house.

As is typical with me, I didn’t want to spend a lot of time cooking dinner.  I ended up spending more time than I wanted on brunch earlier in the day, so I didn’t want to waste a lot more time on another meal in the same day.  I wanted to practice the KISS method – Keep it simple stupid.

Here’s what I found and decided to make – a sweet potato, an onion, Brussels sprouts, corn, broccoli, black beans, fresh spinach, left-over white turkey meat, whole-grain tortilla wraps, and all my yummy hot spices.  Below is the recipe for what I did with them.  Feel free to try it on your own.  By the way, I should point out that I don’t cook for any number of people.  I just throw stuff together and get what I get.  If it’s too much food, I have left-overs for the next day.

Steamed Cajun Sweet Potato (with friends)

Ingredients:
1 sweet potato, any size
1 onion, any kind you want
Whatever other veggies you have would work, but for this recipe I’m going to recommend something green like brussels sprouts, green beans, broccoli, peas, or asparagus.
½ to 1 cup corn, not on a cob.
½ to 1 cup black beans, either raw already cooked or organic, low-sodium from can.  If you’re going to use canned, just use the whole can and roughly an equal amount of corn.

Directions:
First peel and cut one medium onion into big chunks, not dainty little chopped pieces.  Let it sit while you prep the other stuff. 

Start a steamer pot with about 2” of water to steam the veggies. 

Next get out a nice sturdy, sharp knife and cut the sweet potato.  Raw sweet potatoes are kind of tough, so you have to have a good knife to get through them.  Cut it into chunks small enough to put into your mouth. 

Steaming a whole sweet potato takes about 45 minutes, but cutting into small chunks cuts the steaming time down to 7 – 10 minutes.  When the water starts boiling, put the sweet potato into the steamer and cover.   I don’t like to over-cook my sweet potatoes, so the total steam time is going to only be about 7 or 8 minutes using my bite-sized chunks.

If you are steaming fresh Brussels sprouts, add those at the same time as the potato, or maybe even a minute or two earlier because they take a little longer.

After a few minutes, add your other veggies (already cut to bite-sized if needed).  How long they take depends on what veggies you add.  I’ll list a few of my recommendations below.  Keep in mind the total steam time is less than 10 minutes so add them accordingly.

Steam times:
Brussels sprouts - 7 – 10 minutes
Asparagus - 5 minutes
Broccoli - 5 minutes
Onions  - 5 minutes
Green beans - 4 minutes
Peas - 2 minutes

I wanted my black beans warm, so I micro waved them with the corn for 3 minutes when there was that much steam time left, because I’m all about coordinating the times perfectly.

While the veggies where steaming, I also threw this together –

Turkey Wrap

Ingredients:
1 low-cal, low-sodium, tortilla wrap (I use multi-grain, but any should do)  note: most wraps I’ve found are high in both calories and sodium so search around and read the label for the lowest you can find).
Fresh spinach
Sliced green and red peppers
Sliced red onion – just a little since there were onions with the veggie dish.
White turkey meat pieces
Spicy brown mustard

Directions:
Place all together and roll up a wrap.  Hopefully I don’t need to tell you any more than that.

When veggies finished steaming, I put them into a mixing bowl with the black beans and corn and sprinkled on about a tablespoon or two of extra virgin olive oil and then added all my new spices (Cajun, chipotle, red pepper, hot sauce) along with some freshly ground black pepper and some extra cayenne pepper and then mixed it all up.  Then I added the spices again and mixed again.  While I was at it, I also added a round of the spices to my turkey wrap.  Just to make sure all the veggies got some good hot spices on them, I added a little more EVOO and another round of spices and mixed one last time.

Then I placed my wrap and what veggies I wanted on a plate to enjoy and saved the rest for tomorrow.  For some reason I thought a nice glass of burgundy would go well with it, but I opted for water.  I suppose if you wanted, you could top with a little shredded cheese on either the veggies or the wrap, but I skipped that also.

Before I even sat down, I shoved the first huge mouthful in and was very grateful for the glass of water to put the fire out that was now burning in my mouth.  Not only did my nose begin running instantly, but my eyes did also.  I thought my whole head was going to explode.  Holy crap was that good!  In hindsight, I’d have to recommend a little restraint with all the extra spices, but I sure enjoyed it.  I think Cajun spices seem to go well with sweet potatoes.  I just have to learn to quit getting so carried away with it.  Maybe next time I’ll try to measure and take it easy…but I doubt it.

Another Overweight Slob

I am pleased to announce to the world that I managed to achieve my 2009 weight loss goal 4 weeks ahead of schedule.  I am also proud to announce that I am no longer considered an obese American.  I am now just another overweight slob like most other people.

As you can see from the photo evidence below, I have managed to trim the big belly bulge off. I reduced my overall body mass to below 30, but it is most noticeable from the waist. If you have never been obese or struggled with weight issues, this is probably no big deal, but if you have ever been seriously overweight and have tried to lose that weight, you may know what I have gone through.

To be perfectly honest, I am ashamed to admit exactly how fat I got and why I got like that. I hope to reveal full details at a later date, but for now I will tell you this – SO FAR I have lost over 10 inches of fat around my waist.  The photo below shows the pair of pants that used to fit snuggly around my big fat belly and the pile of clothes on the table are some of my fat clothes that no longer fit.

I am still far from being skinny, but I have learned a few things to help make me healthier so I will continue working on it.  If you need or would like any help with diet, weight loss, nutrition, exercise, or anything else, please let me know.  I am here to help.

To read the full story and see the nude photos, go check out the writing page of my website and click on the top link for “Ty achieves 2009 goal.”

Ty Inside His Fat Pants

Ty’s Banana Roll

When I was a kid, one of my favorite sandwiches was a fluffernutter – peanut butter and marshmallow on white bread.  Every once in a while, for whatever reason (Give me less sugar?  Felt healthy?  Had a little extra money? For a treat?), my mother would give me a peanut butter and banana sandwich instead of marshmallow.  I kind of liked those.  Now that I am older and wiser I have a new take on that old classic as you will see below.  Unless you are a body-builder or very active, it’s probably too many calories for a snack, but it’s very easy to make and quick to eat.  I usually have one for breakfast before my morning run.  Mix this with a fresh berry-yogurt protein drink and you’re all set.  You can’t get a much simpler meal than this.

Lately I’ve been using Tumaro’s Multi grain Gourmet Tortillas because each one only has 100 calories and 115mg of sodium.  If you know of any other tortillas with LESS calories or sodium, PLEASE LET ME KNOW!  All the others I checked in my grocery store have lots more of both.

TY’S BANANA ROLL

INGREDIENTS:
1 tortilla
2 tablespoons almond or cashew butter (or natural peanut butter if you must)
1 banana
1 tsp. cinnamon

DIRECTIONS:
Spread the almond butter (or whatever kind you use) on to the tortilla, sprinkle cinnamon over it, place banana in middle, roll it up and enjoy.

Imaginary Muggers

I was just wondering what I should do with my phone.

I went for a walk last night.  I left my house around midnight and returned after 2 am.  When you have a wacky schedule like I do, you have to do what you have to do.  I walked up and down the streets and then through the dark park that’s about a mile away.  The park is larger enough so it takes me about 25-30 minutes to walk all the way around it, so I did that twice after walking up and down a few streets.  Oh by the way, after walking for two hours, it began to rain so I ended up running home from the park. 

 There wasn’t much action last night.  There were a few people out, but not as many as a Friday or Saturday night.  Apparently walking in the middle of the night is a very Mars/Venus kind of thing.  Based on reactions I have gotten by telling such things, it seems that women seem to be more concerned by such an event than guys.  Women claim to be “worried,” I guess because of safety issues.  For some reason they associate walking in the darkness with getting mugged.  I could be wrong, but I think you can also get mugged in broad daylight.  Perhaps it has something to do with the unknown, like the monster under the bed or in the dark closet. 

Guys on the other hand don’t seem to care as much because we are naturally macho and brave and have less fear.  Either that or we’re more ignorant and dim-witted, take your pick.  Most guys you tell that you were walking in the middle of the night might ask where you were going or if you stepped in any puddles or something like that.  They might ask what shoes you wore or maybe even if you had a reflector vest on for safety.  They would never tell you they were worried because guys don’t get worried about things that are not worth worrying about.  By guys, I’m talking about non-gay guys here, the ones without feelings.

The worried female thinks if you are stupid enough to go walking the streets in the middle of the night, you should at least take your dog and/or your cell phone with you.  I may have a sign on the fence in my yard that says “Beware of Dog,” but that was there when I moved in.  I don’t have a dog to protect me from imaginary muggers.  I do however have a cell phone, but I don’t know what to do with it.

I thought about this on my walk last night.  If I brought my cell phone, am I supposed to walk with it turned on or off?  I would never expect a call at that time of night because most normal people are probably either sleeping or have mistaken me for a normal person that is probably sleeping.  (Trust me, I’m nowhere near normal).  If I put aside the notion of a casual conversation at 1 am with someone who should probably be sleeping, the only other purpose for the phone would be in case of emergency, like say if I got mugged. 

If I consider the mugging option, I wondered if it would be better to have my phone on at the ready.  Perhaps I could thwart their efforts with something like, “Here, don’t beat me up and I’ll let you call anywhere in the world you want for free.  That’s right…Cuba, Jamaica, Africa, China, South America, Trenton…where ever you want.  No problem, man.”

I somehow doubt if that would work.  I don’t own a Blackberry or I-phone so I don’t think I’d be getting mugged for my cheap Tracphone.  Minutes on my phone are precious to me.  I don’t have a normal phone because I don’t use it often.  I have the kind that I pay for minutes in advance and right now there are not very many left on it.  I figured if I got mugged and they took my phone, they would surely call everyone they know and use up all my minutes.  That would get me more upset than the mugging itself because I already paid for those minutes.  My only hope would be that they think it’s a normal phone that could be traced and maybe even has a GPS tracker so they might make a quick call to a buddy in prison and then ditch it.  Can prisoners receive calls at 1 am?

My other option was to take my phone, but leave it turned off until I needed it.  That way if I did get mugged and they got my phone, they would either not be able to turn it on without my secret access code or they would have to torture that out of me before they killed me or rendered me somehow speechless.  I contemplated whether paying for a few minutes in advance was worth all that.  Then I began thinking which option would be better if I thought I was going to get mugged. 

Would it be better to already have my phone on so I could quickly dial 911 (and take the chance of being able to do so before it was too late) or would it be better to wait until I thought I was just about to get mugged and try turning on my phone in time, entering my secret access code, waiting for a signal, and then dialing 911 all before my lights went out.  But what if I cried wolf?  What if I was a little baby scaredy-cat and thought I was going to get mugged just because a couple of hoodlums were walking quickly toward me when all they really wanted was to see if I had a match because theirs got wet?  That would be embarrassing if I had already dialed 911 and had to cancel right in front of them.

You see, this is why guys don’t worry about ridiculous things like getting mugged just by going for a midnight stroll.  We don’t have the brain capacity to handle all the different possible scenarios and if we strain too hard to consider them all, it just gives us a headache.  We would much prefer to walk and enjoy the night and think about pretty girls on the beach or nice Grateful Dead shows we’ve seen or happy thoughts like that.  We’re a simple breed.

A Typical Ty Day

For anyone curious enough to want to know what a typical day off is like for me, here you go. I always start a day off by sleeping as late as I possibly can. For me lately that usually means until 5 or 6 am, sometimes 7 if I’m lucky. It doesn’t matter what time I go to bed either. Trust me, I’ve tried staying up until 3 am in hopes that it would make me sleep in longer; it didn’t. Today I wanted to sleep, but it was too difficult with all the car alarms whistling away, the garbage truck idling and making all it’s loud trash pickup noises, the buses stopping and starting, the cars beeping, the neighbors whistling and yelling, the dogs barking, the birds happily chirping, and the last straw was the idiot who drove by with his loud bass-pumping music cranked up so everyone for a mile around could hear him coming.

I gave up on the sleep and went for my water. You get dehydrated sleeping, so I start every day with a tall glass of filtered water, usually about 16 oz., sometimes a little less. I jump on the computer, check for any devastating news, check my email, check for any interesting updates on facebook. At some point before leaving, I might update my status on Facebook, MySpace, and Twitter, but I’m not tied to that.

In addition to the usual walking I do throughout the day, which typically averages around 5 miles, I also try to speed-walk or run another 3 to 5 miles a day; oftentimes more. On a day off when I do not have to go anywhere, I actually try to compensate by walking or running more because I know it is all for me. Today when I woke and saw how nice it was outside and how warm it was quickly getting, I decided to go for a nice long bike ride instead.

For energy to ride, I made myself a breakfast of an egg white omelet with collard greens and assorted beans with a few usual extras (crushed red pepper, cayenne pepper, black pepper, hot sauce, ground ginger, oregano, sunflower seeds, ground flax seed). I splurged on the carbs and calories by toasting an entire whole grain English muffin to hold my omelet. For a side I had a banana with cinnamon and a spoonful of almond butter and fresh squeezed orange juice. I call that a good breakfast, one that will last me all day.

Before I could ride I had to fill my rear tire with air. Of course I could not find my air pump, so I had to bring it down to the gas station and pay 75 cents for a little air. I considered walking it down, but then I thought of another errand I could do, so I threw the bike in the back of my truck and drove it down to the station, ran my errand, and returned to get ready.

I filled my water bottle with icy water. I packed my little camera in my bike bag. I slid on my Bell pro gel gloves. I strapped on my road helmet. I locked up the house and set out for about a 25 mile ride. It may have been slightly less, but this is the internet so I can say anything. I actually had somewhere that I had to go about 10 miles away so instead of driving, I thought it would be a good excuse to get some bike exercise. I considered walking it, but then thought biking burns more calories and goes much quicker, so I went with that option. If I could, I would bike like that more often, but I usually can only do it on days off. It’s not easy bicycling to work and arriving all sweaty and gross to start off your day when you deal with the public.

Other than being in New Jersey and dealing with all the traffic and congestion, the ride to my destination wasn’t too bad. On bike, I take roads that are not as much travelled and I cut through parks and take shortcuts down by the river and stuff. If I wanted to drag it out longer, I could do more of the riding through neighborhoods instead of major roads; it just depends how much time or distance I want to ride. Today I did half and half.

I had so much fun riding the 10 miles there; I decided to continue riding further. I was a couple miles away from one of the parks where I like to do some walking and off-road riding. I usually bring my mountain bike there, but my hybrid is good enough in that park if I stay away from the rough parts. I got to the park, rode around a little, and then decided to do some walking. After about a half hour of walking I noticed the sky starting to turn black. The sun had gone away while I was riding and then the white clouds above all turned black. I didn’t know how long I had, but I knew that meant rain was coming soon.

Rain did come soon, before I even got out of the park. I had to pull the bike under some trees where I figured I’d wait it out. I was glad I hadn’t left the park and protection of all the trees. It got worse after a while, then let up a little, then came down like it was never going to stop. The leaves only protected me for so long. I started getting wet after a while; not totally soaked, but no longer dry. I remembered being told once that the average human patience is about 15 minutes. I’m not sure how accurate that is, especially when waiting for rain to stop. I gave it longer than 15 minutes.

At some point I was getting so wet that it wasn’t worth staying under the trees any longer. I knew there was an open men’s room not far away so I had to decide to either get more wet riding over to it so I could go under cover and not get more soaked, or take my chances with the protection of the leaves. I figured with my luck I would lose either way, so it didn’t matter much. I decided to make a break for the men’s room so I could use the facilities before my long ride home.

As I guessed, I got nice and wet riding over to the men’s room. About 3 minutes later the rain stopped. I believe that falls under one of Murphy’s laws. I started for my trip home splashing through all the new puddles. One of them on the corner of the park apparently didn’t like my tire going through it so it tried throwing me from my bike. I was able to recover my balance before falling, but only with the help of a very hard tree that my right shoulder smashed into and gave me a nice bruise.

Ten minutes into my return trip, a sprinkling and light mist returned; not enough to run for cover, just enough to keep me wet the entire ride home. With the rain and black cloud cover, the temperature had also dropped by what felt like at least 10 degrees. Actually it felt like more than that when the wind blew against my now soaked clothing, which wasn’t much to begin with (shorts and t-shirt). The last 8 miles were kind of chilly riding.

I was not to be deterred from my photographic mission however. I still managed to stop and snap off a few shots in the drizzle. A couple times Mother Nature was even kind enough to stop the rain for a few minutes. I’ll attach one or two below here so you can see that at least it wasn’t a total loss.  Check my Facebook page for others. 

So there you have it. A typical Ty day is to leave the house on a beautiful, warm, sunny day with big ideas and return a few hours later cold, soaking wet, tired, sore, and with a few bruises, but hopefully with a few more pictures, because that’s the most important thing – to get a few more pictures – no matter what it takes. An added bonus was that I got some bicycling exercise. It turned out to be not so much fun exercise, but I suppose you can’t expect to have fun all the time.

Water Lilly in Rahway River Park, New Jersey

White Goose

Pool closed due to rain on 6-3-2009

Breaking Out In Song

I don’t know what comes over me, but every once in a while I just start singing instead of talking normal.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like good singing, or singing in tune, or even singing that makes sense. I am not the least bit musically inclined, so as the saying goes, “I wouldn’t know how to carry a tune if it came with handles.”  But none of that stops me from singing. Why should it?

I can only guess that I do it because it sounds so bad that it’s funny. Take last night for example. I was driving home after a long, hard day at work and not enough sleep the night before, I was pretty worn down and in need of a laugh. I was also hungry since lunch was about 6 hours earlier. I started thinking about what was waiting for me in the refrigerator at home that I could quickly put together and eat. I remembered there was some leftover spaghetti.

Put all these variables together, and all of a sudden I started singing this slow, pitiful, stupid song to entertain myself. It was sort of bluesy with a country twang. It went something like this:

Get ready. Come on, baby. get it ready.

I said, come on. Come on baby and get ready.

Daddy’s comin home and wants some sgetti.

Yeah get the sgetti ready, come on baby.

I want some sgetti. So get it ready.

Make it nice and steamy and plenty cheesy.

Don’t think I could take one more round of chili.

Get that sgetti ready for me baby.

Make it chewy and gooey and get it ready.

Don’t give me deli.

Don’t need no hoagie.

No need to clean out the pantry when there’s sgetti.

Sure don’t want anything that’s greasy.

No doing laundry.

No trying to distract me with your booty.

Don’t want to be hokey.

Cause you know this ain’t no jokey.

Don’t even care if today is not Wednesday.

Don’t make me wait it makes me crabby.

I said I’m ready.

For my spaghetti.

Maybe I could even wash it down with some Pepsi.

I’ll even try to save room to have a cookie.

So get it all ready

because here I come for my spaghetti.

Yeah, get it ready.

My spaghetti.

Get it ready.

Believe it or not, that little ditty lasted me half the way home. Just trying to think up words ending with an “ee” sound that I could use for the next line took some thought. Since I can’t sing and it was a stupid song and I was so tired, it made me laugh just singing it, which is what I needed at the time.  Good thing I didn’t have my tape recorder on.

That was just one recent example that I happened to be entertaining myself with. I do the same thing with others. I noticed though it is only around certain others, usually females because they are more receptive to the goofiness than guys are. Sometimes people will just say something to me that will remind me of a song and I will just start singing a line or two. It’s even funnier when that person has no idea what the song is. Sometimes I’ll try to justify my craziness. “Do you know that song?”

That will usually be followed by a slight giggle with a hint of terror in their expression and often a step backwards just in case. I don’t mean to frighten anyone with my singing.  All I really shoot for is making people laugh and have a good time, however brief it may be. If they look more scared than amused, I’ll stop and leave them alone. Sometimes people need help laughing and enjoying life and if it means I have to be the fool, so be it.

First Mow

More Notes From the Dumpster State

It was 95 degrees today. Being the moron that I am, I decided to pick today for my first day of yard work.   If you’ve read my earlier blogs, you probably know I’m not thrilled with doing yard work. I do as little as possible as seldom as possible. When the weeds are so tall that the bunny can hide safely right out in the middle of the yard, I figure it’s time for a little trim. Before I mow I spend about a half hour picking up all the trash that has accumulated under my hedges and in my yard. I live in New Jersey, so there is never a shortage of trash in the yard. I usually take a plastic shopping bag or two and pick it all up with my extended squeezey thing (yes, that’s a technically term you may not understand – see the photo).

Since today was the first yard day of the year, I had a little extra trash to pick up that had been accumulating all winter. As you can see from the attached photo, it took 8 bags to pick up all of today’s trash before I started mowing. People think I’m joking when I call New Jersey “the dumpster state.” Here’s the evidence – it’s no joke.

Trash picked up on property before this year's first mow

I hate liter. I really can’t stand it. I wish we had very strict liter laws that might possibly help reduce some of the floating trash around the world, but especially this state. I’m not sure what, maybe get caught throwing something out, lose that hand, or maybe the entire arm. I don’t think that would be too severe. I’d be all for it. Really let those criminals know we mean business.

I think there are laws against littering, at least in nice places like Maine or New Hampshire, or National Parks. There may even be a law against it in New Jersey, but I could never tell from all the trash I see daily in my yard and the extreme lack of policing such activity. I have no idea if anyone has ever been arrested, given a ticket, or fined for littering. I sure wish they had. I wish I could make citizen’s arrests or citizen’s fines every time I see someone littering. I would literally park my butt in a chair right at the corner of my property with my camera as visual backup and just wait there for someone to come by and liter. I would take their picture as I caught them in the act and proudly scream, “Ah ha! Got you, Sucker! That’s going to cost you.”

Enough with my rant. The morale of my story is please do not ever liter, no matter where you are. And if you ever see anyone doing it, just ask them something like any of these – “Where do you think you are, in a trash dump?” “Do you think the world is one big dumpster?” “Do you think we are all living in the middle of a world-wide trash dump and its okay to just throw your trash anywhere?” “Would your Momma be proud of you throwing your trash in somebody’s yard like that?”

Annual Spring Haircut

I went for my annual spring haircut today. I’ve been a little run down and out of it lately and had a bad allergy attack now that spring has sprung it’s nose-draining charm, so I figured today would be a good day for a haircut. I couldn’t bring myself to do it on a day I felt good. Why ruin a perfect day? I’ve never been crazy about short hair on me or anyone else, but once I got old, thinning, and then bald on top, I kind of gave up caring about my hair style. Now I just go in for a trim a couple times a year and that’s enough to keep up with what I have left.

I think I may have written about my last hair-changing experience in an earlier blog. Seems the last few have been sort of traumatic. Today was no exception. Since I didn’t care for my last haircut, today I went to a new place that I’ve never tried before. I was actually just driving down some street with time on my hands when I noticed a barber shop as I was passing by. I pulled over thinking I would run in real quick.

It turned out to be a barber shop in a predominantly Hispanic and Mexican area. It was a fairly large shop, long and narrow with 8 chairs on the left side with the mirrors on the wall and waiting chairs on the right. There was a big screen TV three quarters of the way back that had some psychedelic swirling stuff on it as if it was synced to the very loud rap and hip-hop music that was permeating the place. I said “Yo” to a few people who looked my way and then felt strangely out of place, which for some reason makes me feel right at home. I live in an area where whites are only 30% of the population, so I’ve gotten used to being a minority.

I noticed a bunch of people filling the waiting chairs on the right so I figured I was in for a long sit down. Before I had time to sit and spy a mag, Jose called me over from chair 4. “Who, me?”

He shook his head to affirm and pointed to the chair, so I sat. “Damn, that didn’t take long at all, Dog” I observed verbally.

Jose didn’t introduce himself, but I assumed that was his name when I saw a photo frame on the counter with “Jose” at the bottom of the pewter frame. He offered a friendly smile as he reached for the disposable cloth thingy he wrapped around my neck. He then clipped the big drop cloth over the cloth thingy and dropped it around my entire body. He followed that by some sort of mumbo in Spanish from behind me. That was when I first realized he knew little, if any English. That was also when I should have gotten up and ran, but I’ve never claimed to be smart. From my many previous experiences in barber shops, I surmised that Jose was either making small talk by asking me about the weather or asking me what kind of haircut I would like today. I went for the later because he didn’t look like a small talk kind of guy. “A regular cut,” I told him.

In case he didn’t understand me, I felt the need for adding some extra advice. “I want it short enough so I don’t have to carry a comb, but make it look as long as possible since I don’t have much left.”

Jose walked around toward the side of my chair, smiling like I was a crazy person he didn’t want to upset. My eyes followed as he pointed up over the mirror to a chart on the wall. There was a poster with pictures of about 40 different hair styles. Some were front views, some were side views, and some were back views. He pointed to number 33 and said something else that I didn’t understand. “No,” I told him pointing to number 13. “I want it more like number 13.”

Jose pointed to number 14 and said, “Number 14?”

“Okay,” I agreed. You’re the expert.

I figured maybe there was something wrong with my head that would prevent him from giving me the number 13 style. Maybe my head was too oddly shaped or maybe the extra crease in the back wouldn’t work with a number 13. Number 14 didn’t look so bad. I thought I would be able to live with that if that’s what Jose thought I should get. It’s not like I have much hair left to worry about anyway.

Jose had 6 different clippers hanging under the mirror. He went to reach for one and then at the last second changed his mind and grabbed a different one to start with. He brought it to my head and quickly went buzz, buzz, buzz all around. Sitting in the seat, you never quite know how it looks or what is happening as they cut your hair away, but I immediately got a feeling that Jose chopped off more in the first 3 seconds than I was hoping for. I take my glasses off to cut my hair so I couldn’t see anything either. Figuring that once it was gone there was no way to put it back on, I just sat there and let him do his thing.

To my surprise, Jose took off a whole lot more than he did in those first few seconds. He went around with one clipper, reached for another clipper and went around again, reached for another clipper and went around again. Then he went back and forth, up and down, all around my head chopping, cutting, clipping, trimming. I felt a little like the hedges on Edward Scissorhands for a moment. He was very fast and very good at it, but it seemed to me like he was getting carried away and chopping off a lot more than I had planned. Then again I thought, I didn’t have all that much in the first place, so maybe he’s just being persnickety with wild hairs sticking up.

At one point Jose reached for a different clipper and before I knew what was happening, went zip, zip, zip and trimmed up my beard. “Holy crap, what the hell?” I thought, but once again, it happened so fast it was too late to object, so I just let him continue. I’ve had a beard most of my life and I realize I keep it longer than current fashions and most people’s preferences, but that is me and that is my own personal style. Apparently Jose wanted to give me a new style. I started feeling like I was on one of those reality TV shows getting a whole new makeover. Wow, did I look that bad? Did I need that much work? I guess Jose thought so.

He went to town on my entire head. He chopped my hair, my beard, and then to my surprise even ran the clippers across my eyebrows, and then started trimming the hair coming out of my ears, my nose, and even trimmed my eye lashes back a little. He changed the little plastic thing on the end of one of the clippers and attacked my beard again…then again. He pulled out shaving cream and a razor and started shaving on top and underneath my beard, around my ears, on my neck. It was as though he was giving me the complete works.

That was about when I figured the ploy of this place was to act like you don’t understand when someone asks for just a haircut, give them a haircut and a shave, and make more money. At that point I gave up completely. Jose was so good and so fast, he was like a stylist, not just a barber. I have never gone to a stylist before. I figured if Jose thought that’s what I needed to look good, I would just sit there and let him do his thing. Of course he had to smack me a couple times and firmly hold my head still when I started bobbing it. For some reason, even though I don’t usually listen to that kind of very loud hip-hop music, a couple of the tunes were sort of catchy and my head started bopping to the beat until he held it still so he wouldn’t cut something that shouldn’t get cut.

I don’t know what it is with barbers around here who think they’re stylists. I can’t seem to get a regular man’s haircut anymore. Every time I try, I end up getting all my hair buzzed off. I realize I am bald on top and don’t have much left to worry about anyway, but that’s all the more reason to keep what I have. I don’t know why all these barbers want to take what I have left and just chop it all off. Not every partially bald white guy wants to be totally bald. I’m not trying to hide the fact that I’m bald on top by being totally bald all around, but it seems like I am bald once again. Jose skinned me and trimmed me and didn’t leave a whole lot of hair left on or under my head.

Granted, the mustache and beard trimming was nice, but I didn’t ask for it. I like having a long beard, it’s the only part left on my head that still grows hair. But apparently Jose thought I would look better with a trimmed stubble on my face instead of a full beard. He even shaved some on top and bottom to give it a completely different style. Now you can see my entire second chin. One of the reasons for having such a full beard was to hide my second chin, but that’s over. The second chin is back out and in full view. I might as well just shave the whole damn thing off now. I’m not sure what the point of having a beard is if you keep it so trimmed up it is only stubble and it doesn’t hide your second chin.

When Jose was finally finished, he said something else to me in Spanish, which (from previous experience) I assumed was, “what do you think?”

I asked him to wait while I put my glasses back on so I could see. When I peered into the mirror, all I could think of (and say) was, “Wow. I guess I needed more work than I thought.”

Jose smiled, like he could understand I was making humor, while I felt like a used car in for repairs. Assuming I was happy with the outcome (not that I could do anything about it now), Jose proceeded over to the register. Another weird thing about haircuts – there’s no returns. When they are finished, you can’t say, “No, I don’t like it. Put it back on.”

When Jose got to the register, I was ready for the barber shop “up-sell.” To my surprise, he rang me up for only a haircut. He had just spent about 45 minutes trimming every single hair on my head, including a massive beard trim, nose trim, ear trim, eyebrow trim, and neck trim and he still only charged me for a regular haircut, just as I asked for. Needless to say, I was confused.

That sort of insulted me and also gave me respect for my man Jose. I figured he charged me for what I asked for, but he actually gave me what he thought I needed to look better. I’m not convinced I do look better, but I’m not the one to judge that. I paid Jose for my haircut and then gave him a large tip for all his efforts, a smile, a thank you, and a gentleman’s handshake. “Muchas gracias, mi amigo.”

As soon as I walked outside I felt the breeze wisp over my ears with nothing to stop it and I was reminded once again what a beautiful day feels like on a shaved head.

Change Your Name

Occasionally considering myself a bright lad, I was reading this book today, 211 things A Bright Boy Can Do by Tom Cutler. On page 86 I found instructions I thought were interesting on “How to change your name.”

The shocking advice was to just “start using your new name.” According to this book, they claim that as long as you are not trying to deceive or defraud people there is no legal process you have to follow to change your name in the United States.

So, according to this book, all I have to do is start using a new name and it will actually be my new name.
How cool is that? (Very).

Now I’m wondering how often I can make a change like this. Could I change my name every year? Every month? Every week? I’m thinking, sure, why not? But the book doesn’t offer that much information. I guess you have to look that up for yourself if you are interested.

Can I change my name to something different each time I decide to change it? (Absolutely).

Can I finally become a Mary? (Uh, if that’s what you want).

Will anyone care if I change my name? (I don’t know. Maybe my parents might care since they named me first).

So many questions remain.

The book goes on to say that you can legally order up a new passport, driver’s license, credit cards, and open bank accounts with your new name. I might have to try this theory to see if it actually works.

They do however offer a disclaimer that as security concerns escalate and the threat of identity theft increases, you may find that making these changes requires some kind of legal documentation and a court
petition.

Yeah, I think in 2009 we have come to the point where you might need a little more than just “say it and it will be so.” This disclaimer made me immediate check the copyright of the book, which was listed as 2006. The fact that the book was published after 9/11/2001 with this advice really surprised me. I’m sure there are lots of every day normal people who have changed their name for some reason, but I began to think about some of the people I have heard of with name changes. I wondered if some of them had just started using their new name or if they did it in a more legal way.

Just for kicks, here’s a list of a few people that changed their names. How many did you know?

NEW NAME	BIRTH NAME
Alan Alda	Alphonso D’Abruzzo
Jason Alexander	Jay Scott Greenspan
Tim Allen	Tim Allen Dick
Woody Allen	Allen Stewart Konigsberg
Kirstie Alley	Gladys Leeman
Julie Andrews	Julia Elizabeth Wells
Jennifer Aniston	Jennifer Anastassakis
Fred Astaire	Frederick Austerlitz
Lauren Bacall	Betty Joan Perske
Lucille Ball	Dianne Desiree Belmont
Anne Bancroft	Anna Maria Louisa Italiano
Brigitte Bardot	Camille Javal
Jack Benny	Benjamin Kubelsky
Milton Berle	Mendel Berlinger
Robert Blake	Michael James Vijenco Gubitosi
Albert Brooks	Albert Einstein
David Bowie	David Jones
Mel Brooks	Melvin Kaminsky
George Burns	Nathan Birnbaum
Richard Burton	Richard Walter Jenkins Jr.
Nicolas Cage	Nicolas Coppola
Lewis Carroll	Charles Lutwidge Dodgson
Cher	Cherilyn Sarkisian La Piere
Joan Crawford	Lucille Fay LeSueur
Tom Cruise	Thomas Cruise Mapother IV
Tony Curtis	Bernard Schwartz
Rodney Dangerfield	Jack Roy
Tony Danza	Anthony Iadanza
Vin Diesel	Mark Vincent
Bo Derek	Mary Cathleen Collins
Kirk Douglas	Isidore Demsky
Bob Dylan	Robert Zimmerman
Carmen Electra	Tara Leigh Patrick
Dale Evans	Frances Octavia Smith
Zsa Zsa Gabor	Sari Gabor
Greta Garbo	Greta Lovisa Gustafsson
Andy Garcia	Andres Arturo Garcia-Menendez
Judy Garland	Frances Gumm
Whoopi Goldberg	Caryn Johnson
Samuel Goldwyn	Samuel Goldfish
Elliot Gould	Elliot Goldstein
Cary Grant	Archie Leach
Goldie Hawn	Goldie Jean Studlendegeh
Rita Hayworth	Margarita Carmen Dolores Cansino
Audrey Hepburn	Edda Van Heemstra Hepburn
Charlton Heston	Charles Carter
Bob Hope	Leslie Townes Hope
Rock Hudson	Roy Harold Scherer Jr.
Ice Cube	O’Shea Jackson
Tom Jones	Thomas Jones Woodward
Boris Karloff	William Henry Pratt
Danny Kaye	David Daniel Kaminski
Kid Rock	Bob Ritchie
Larry King	Lawrence Zeiger
Queen Latifa	Dana Owens
Michael Landon	Eugene Maurice Orowitz
Bruce Lee	Sai Fon
Spike Lee	Shelton Lee
Traci Lords	Nora Louise Kuzma
Ludacris	Christopher Brian Bridges
Madonna	Madonna Louise Veronica Ciccone
Lee Majors	Harvey Lee Yeary
Jayne Mansfield	Vera Jayne Palmer
Dean Martin	Dino Paul Crocetti
Marilyn Monroe	Norma Jean Baker
Demi Moore	Demetria Gene Guynes
Mr. T	Laurence Turead
Lou Diamond Phillips	Lou Upchurch
Joaquin Phoenix	Joaquin Raphael Bottom
Freddie Prinze	Frederick Karl Pruetzel
Tony Randall	Leonard Rosenberg
Anne Rice	Howard Allen OBrien
Ringo Starr	Richard Starkey
The Rock	Dwayne Douglas Johnson
Ginger Rogers	Virginia Katherine McMath
Mickey Rooney	Joe Yule, Jr.
Meg Ryan	Margaret Mary Emily Anne Hyra
Winona Ryder	Winona Laura Horowitz
Susan Sarandon	Susan Abigail Tomalin
Jayne Seymour	Joyce Penelope Wilhelmina Frankenberg
Omar Sharif	Michael Shalhoub
Charlie Sheen	Carlos Irwin Estevez
Martin Sheen	Ramon Estevez
Gene Simmons	Chaim Witz
Kevin Spacey	Kevin Matthew Fowler
Danny Thomas	Muzyard Yakhoob
Liv Tyler	Liv Lundgren
John Wayne	Marrion Michael Morrison
Sigourney Weaver	Susan Alexander Weaver
Raquel Welch	Raquel Tejada
Adam West	William West Anderson
Gene Wilder	Jerome Silberman
Bruce Willis	Walter Willison
Tiger Woods	Elridge Tiger Woods

The Perfect Valentine’s Day Gift For 2009

Is it wrong to get your “special someone” booze for Valentine’s Day?

That was the thought on my mind when I saw so many guys going into the liquor store today.  I couldn’t blame them really.  We are in some tough economic times after all so who can afford jewelry anymore? 

Liquor - The Perfect Valentine's Day Gift

Like most guys, I reserve February 13th for the day I panic and finally think of my “special lady” in the same sentence as Valentine’s Day.  It’s a day that reminds me of our first year together when I accidentally expressed my true feelings of hatred for the made up “Hallmark” holiday.  I of course learned my lesson back then and have never repeated the mistake of expressing my true feelings.

My panic today began about a half hour before I woke up, as if my body could sense the day.  I was sweating profusely and falling from a mountain top with an empty box of chocolates and a broken parachute in my dream.  My morning panic scream was only the first of the day.

I set out early to stop for something before going to work because, well…still having no idea what I should get, I knew it might take a while.  Like so many previous years, I tried thinking of the perfect gift that she would love to get.  That lasted until my brain started to hurt and I traded in that thought for trying to find some damn flowers.  I must have driven up one street and down another for 40 miles and could not find a florist anywhere.  Where the heck did all the florists go?  Is buying flowers on the internet or over the phone the only way you can get them now?  Since I haven’t bought flowers in a very long time, I had no idea.  To settle my panic and stress level down, I decided to try jewelry instead.

I noticed I didn’t have to go too far to find a jewelry store.  I actually know where several of those are.  Not that I ever stop in or buy jewelry, but I happen to drive by them and they seem so damn big, you can’t really miss them.  The Jared place happened to be the closest one to where I was when I abandoned the flower idea.  I don’t know if the commercials run where you are, but around here they’ve been saturating the market with ads and adding new locations.  They had me convinced “she’ll love it” if I go to Jareds.  I noticed lots of guys heading in the store before me, so they must have seen the ads also.  I took a photo to add to my “what my camera saw today” portfolio, but posted the one without the guys in it to protect the (guilty) last minute shoppers.

Go To Jared's For Valentine's Day Jewelry Gift

I gave the Jared store a good two minutes of what I call price-freaking before I ran screaming out of there.  Talk about way the heck out of my budget!  I can’t possibly afford to love anyone that much.  I was really beginning to panic by this point.  It was getting late and I had to get to work.  I would not get out of work until late so I would have no more time for panic shopping.  The next store I noticed happened to be the discount liquor store.  That’s where I began to wonder if it was okay to buy your “special someone” a bottle for Valentine’s Day.”  I stopped a guy coming out to ask.

“Hell yeah,” he told me.  “A few shots of this and things will get romantic in a hurry, if you know what I mean.”

I could guess what he meant, but I didn’t ask.  I just thanked him and went on to ask someone else.  “Excuse me sir, I was wondering if you could help me out.  Do you think it will be okay if I get the little lady a bottle for Valentine’s Day?”

The guy asked me a series of questions before he would reveal his thoughts.  “Do I plan to buy flowers, chocolates, jewelry, anything else, take her out to dinner, somewhere romantic, propose, or anything special like that?”

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no to everything, man.”

He then looked at me very serious and all mature like and said, “Then you better get the good stuff, like the 12-year old vintage…and you better buy a fancy bag to put it in, maybe even with a red bow on it.  Then when you’re done here, go into that grocery store, buy yourself some of those chocolate kisses and toss a bunch of those in the bag.  Then go over to the card aisle and find a card with some flowers on it.  Try to write some romantic crap on it like reminding her that you just gave her flowers and candy and for God’s sake, don’t forget to say you love her – even if you don’t mean it.  Just say it…unless you want to dump her, then I don’t see what the heck you’re bothering with it all for.”

I thanked the kind man for such wise advice, which I followed exactly since I was running out of time and ideas.  At that point I didn’t care if it was discount (or regular priced) liquor.  I had to get something.  I noticed in the candy aisle that all Valentine’s candy was now on sale.  I thought that was the dumbest thing in the world.  The stores begin to panic because they have all that candy left so they put it on sale to try to get rid of it before Valentine’s Day and the guys don’t even think about buying candy for Valentine’s Day until the day before, so they would have paid any price for it.  The stupid stores are just giving money away.  Oh well, not my problem.  I have enough to worry about.

Hope your Valentine’s Day is as fun as mine.

Allow me to close with a slightly revised version of my quote from last year (see my post for “National Oh Crap Day” on 2/13/08 that I think should be entered into a quotation book of some sort:

“Do not stop trying until you find someone to love. Once you find someone to love, learn to live with that pain – and maybe even enjoy it.”