Friday, 12/31

Boy, was I wrong.

I remember writing a blog a year ago about how I hoped 2021 would be better than 2020. That we'd finally kick this stupid pandemic, that people would start caring about each other, and that things would start to return to normal.

If that's not a 3-pitch strikeout, I don't know what is.

Since I was so spectacularly wrong last year I'm not even going to make a prediction about the upcoming year. I have hope, but I also read the news. I know what people are like these days. So instead of wishing that we'll have a perfect world in 2022. I'll just concentrate on the small things, on things that either I control or on things which outside forces don't have much control.

Like what? Well, I’m looking forward to a nice warm to hot actual summer this upcoming year. I’m looking forward to dreaming about going back to Europe some decade. I'm looking forward to wrapping up the latest season of the TV show I host, and seeing what the next one holds. I’m looking forward to leading hundreds of people along the streets of Marquette for the History Center tours this summer, and I'm really looking forward to seeing if we can make through the Kaufman show in a month without having to do it virtually. I’m looking forward to playing soccer outside in the warm sun with Loraine. I'm looking forward to actually being able to hang out with family and friends safely. I'm looking forward to voting a few times. And I'm also looking forward to a something I haven't even considered yet. I don't know what that something is, but every year there's something new.

And I'm looking forward to that, too. Maybe this year it'll actually be something that everyone enjoys. After all, a boy can dream, right?

On that note, have a happy New Year. I have Monday off, so back with something new Tuesday!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 12/30

One more Christmas story, and then I'll stop.

When we last spoke, Loraine and I were still trying to figure out who had left all the stuff at Leo Robinson's grave. And I was trying to recover from all the blood flowing out of my body after skidding along the pavement while trying to kick the world's most frozen soccer ball substitute.

All that went by the wayside when I opened my gift from my brother.

Because this was another Covid Christmas we actually didn't get together in person, instead having a little video chat while we were opening gifts. Before we did that my nephew Abel, who had received a miniature doctor's office from Santa, complete with stethoscope and other equipment, took a second to look the blood still oozing down my knee, thereby allowing me to become his first tele-health patient.

That kid has quite a future ahead of him.

Then we proceeded to gift opening. When my brother and Abel had dropped the wrapped gifts off the day before I was told not to open mine until we were all together virtually. Apparently, he wanted to see my reaction when I opened it, and I hope I didn't disappoint when I saw this--

That's right. Not only is it a painting of a cow, but it's a painting of a cow with glasses. He came across it in a store several months ago, and had to be held back from giving it to me right then and there. But I'm glad he waited. Not since my mom gave me a painting she did of me and a cow have I received such a moo-ving gift.

And I'm not apologizing for that last line at all.

The cow painting now is sitting on my office wall, next to another of my mom's paintings (this one of lilacs) and a picture of Loraine dipping her feet into a cool spring on a hot German day. So sitting on my office wall are three of my favorite things in the world—Loraine, lilacs, and a cow.

Maybe there's hope for humanity yet.

So thanks to Marc for the painting, thanks to Tiffanie for making him wait to give it to me, and thanks to the unknown artist who decided to put glasses on a cow.

It was one of the best parts of my Christmas.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 12/29

If you wanna know where I get it, here's where I get it.

Like I said yesterday, one of the things I did over the long weekend was to carry on a “valued” family tradition. In case you didn't know, it seems like I can be a bit of a klutz on occasion, especially when attempting to out-perform my limited abilities as an athlete. When you count bike accidents, ski accidents, roller-blading accidents, and sprained or twisted ankles from running, the evidence does seem to pile up. And that was quite evident Christmas morning when I went out running. As I was heading down a hill I saw a chunk of ice on the street, and figured I'd kick it like a soccer ball. After all, it's been a few weeks since I've done since I've kicked an actual soccer ball, and I figured it might be fun to practice a little footwork with it.

Of course, I didn't realize that the ice chunk was, you know, frozen to the street, and therefore didn't move when I kicked. I, however, DID move, and not exactly in the way I usually do. I ended up tripping over the frozen ice chunk and after some frantic attempts at staying upright found myself flat on the street with road rash all over my right knee and elbow, and a big bruise (and a very sore muscle) on my right butt cheek.

Oh, and to the people driving by who stopped and asked if I was okay? I meant it when I said, and I'm quoting myself here, “I'm okay. I'm just an idiot”.

As I mentioned, this isn't the first time I've done something stupid while running. Or biking. Or skiing. Or roller-blading. However, I have yet to break a leg ski jumping, tear up a face from a running accident caused by a dog, or blow out a knee falling into a dirt hole.

That's what my dad does.

When they say the acorn does not fall from the tree, they may actually be on to something, at least in regards to this. Now, my dad is a much better natural athlete than am I, so I'm not quite sure what his excuse is, but over the years he has wracked up enough injury from questionable sources to make me wonder if I've inherited more than his love of Bugs Bunny and his unnaturally small head. They say that as you get older you find yourself acting more and more like your parents. Usually, it means yelling things like “you kids get off my lawn”. In my case, though, it seems to be an ability to injure oneself without even trying.

Besides, I don't yell at kids and I don't have a lawn

It's not like I try to injure myself, just like I'm sure my dad doesn't try to injure himself, either. There just seems to be something passed down from father to son in this case. Thankfully, I haven't yet broken anything or caused myself to have any sort of reconstructive surgery, like the person from whom I inherited these abilities, but I'm still fairly young. Give me a few years, and who knows—instead of a road rash and sore butt from trying to kick an immovable object I'll have to have surgery to remove a car mirror from a sensitive portion of my anatomy all because I wasn't paying attention while out running, saw something shiny, had my attention diverted, and then didn't realize that I was about to run into a parked car.

Not that I would ever do that, though. Right?

So, whenever someone asks what I've picked up from my dad over the years, “the ability to injure myself” is always one of the first things out of my mouth. It gets a big laugh, and then it allows me to brag about all the good stuff I've picked up from him. You know, the stuff that DOESN'T involve sprained ankles, black eyes, and reconstructive surgery.

Besides...someone has to keep these family traditions going, right?

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 12/28

Survive the holidaze okay?

I did myself, thank you very much for asking. I was actually able to enjoy a very rare three and a half day weekend, and at one point Monday morning actually realized that I had an hour and a half with absolutely nothing to do. As far as I can tell, that was the first time in months where I had an hour and a half with absolutely nothing to do, so for the first 10 or so minutes of that hour and a half, I just sat around, stunned by the fact. Then when I realized the clock was ticking and I’d better enjoy that hour and a half, I did by heading over to the Fit Strip and going skiing until I couldn't ski any more.

It was, in fact, one of my favorite gifts of the weekend!

Other than that, I’m guessing my holiday weekend was pretty much like yours. I spent some very enjoyable time with Loraine, did virtual visits with family members, I ate waaaaaaaay too much, and I was able to take care of all kinds of crap around my apartment that hadn’t been taken care of over the past month. Oh, and , if I have to say so myself, I think I'm starting to get a little better (not much, but a little) at making Pastitsio for Christmas--

All in all, a win-win weekend!

There were, I have to admit, a few very strange things that happened this weekend, and I'll talk about them over the next few days. Christmas Eve provided us with quite a shock when we arrived at Park Cemetery to put flowers on Leo Robinson's grave (the guy I wrote the blog about who we visit every year) and discovered that we had been beaten to visiting him!

We have no idea who did this, but we're very happy someone decided to mark the day. We do know that they were at the cemetery no more than half an hour before we were (based on the rather large footprints still quite visible in the falling snow), but that's about it.

But whoever you were--thanks a bunch. It was nice to see the area all decorated for the big day!

*******

Now I know for some of you, the weekend’s actually an 11 or 12-day break from reality, but not for all of us. No, some of us have to go back to work today. In fact, some of us actually have work extra this week because it's a short week sandwiched between other short weeks. But that's okay; I'll think of all the work I'm doing now when I'm spending a summer half-day playing at the beach.

And trust me—I'd much rather be stuck working between Christmas and New Year's Day than be stuck at work when it's warm and the sun is out!

Tomorrow...another story from the holiday weekend, this one about how I inadvertently carried on a family tradition.

I'm still wincing in pain because of it.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 12/23

I have a three and a half day weekend to look forward to. How the heck did THAT happen?

Looking at it one way that really does make it the most wonderful time of the year, despite the fact that we're heading into the second Covid Christmas in two years. I have to work a half day Friday and then have Monday off as the “holiday”. That means 84 hours away from things, and with an added bonus—I have finished all the baking, wrapping, and other assorted holiday stuff I was whining about last week.

I have a three (and a half) day weekend with no responsibilities. That might be the best gift I receive all year.

Seriously; everything that needed to be done for the season is done. Tomorrow I just have to have a little get-together with my brother and his family, and Loraine and I have to carry on a Christmas Eve tradition (more on that below). Then I have to make Greek food for Christmas Day dinner. Other than that? Every other holiday thing I need to do is done.

Now, that's not to say I'll be bored on Sunday and Monday. No...that's the farthest thing from the truth, especially with a Kaufman show coming up and all kinds of video that needs to get edited. But instead of trying to rush through it in a typical 48-hour weekend, I can now celebrate the holidays AND do some History Jim work before Radio Jim has to pop his head out of the snow.

That's kind of cool.

So there won't be another one of these until Tuesday. I hope that wherever and whenever you're reading this that your holiday weekend goes (or went) well. And stay safe—I have the feeling the Omicron variant might be this year's must have gift.

I just don't want you to get it.

****

Here's the story  of what Loraine and I do every single Christmas Eve. Just substitute “quiet Covid Christmas Eve” for “Koski family Christmas Eve Celebration of Noise” and you're all set.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 12/22

I wonder how popular The Carpenters would be these days?

That thought entered my mind when Loraine was listening to selections of their “Christmas Portrait” album when I was making cookies the other day. If you’ve not heard it, it’s a mix of instrumental and vocal holiday tunes, all segued together into kind of a Christmas symphony, and contains one of the most touching yet melancholy songs of the season ever, “Merry Christmas Darling”. It’s one of those albums that’s gained kind of an iconic status over the years, and that led us to wondering where The Carpenters would be these days, had Karen not died of anorexia in 1983.

Loraine and I, both being children of the 60s & 70s, have the gender-differing views of the duo you’d expect of children of the 60s & 70s. She grew up listening to and enjoying them, while for me The Carpenters were something my mom listened to and became something to which I should to pay little or no attention at all. Yet because Loraine still listens to a song or two of theirs on occasion, and because she listens to “Christmas Portrait” every holiday season, I find myself exposed to their music more than ever, and I have to admit something that no guy who grew up as a child of the 60s & 70s should ever admit--

They were actually pretty talented.

If you put aside all your pre-conceived notions of The Carpenters as schmaltzy or syrupy or any other sticky adjectives you’d care to conjure, you’d notice two things--that Richard Carpenter, who did most of their producing and arranging, really had a flair for melody. And, of course, you’d notice that Karen Carpenter could actually sing, despite the sometimes schmaltzy and syrupy material with which she had to work. You can tell that they both learned a lot from the people who wrote their songs, people like Burt Bacharach, and when you consider that Bacharach is now treated like a musical legend by several younger generations of artists, you have to wonder--

How would The Carpenters be treated by those same younger generations?

Would they still be vital recording artists, having albums produced by people like Jack Antonoff or having their songs covered by groups like Arcade Fire? Would they still be touring every year, perhaps performing albums in their entirety like other iconic groups of the 70s? Or would they be stuck playing Branson or Vegas eight months out of the year, and find themselves peddling their music on late night infomercials? After all, it’s a very thin line between kitschy and cool, and I’d be kind of curious to know on which side they’d fall--would they be like Burt Bacharach, or would they end up like, oh, I dunno, Tony Orlando, with or without Dawn?

Sadly, it’s one of those things we’ll never know, although that doesn’t stop some of us from speculating upon it. It's just one of those things that runs through your head when you listen to a Christmas album in the week leading up to the holiday. Amazing how things like that work out, isn’t it?

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 12/21

That's not even the strangest of the flavor combinations. Trust me on that.

Yesterday I was talking about the Christmas cookies I made over the weekend, and someone had expressed...interest, I guess, in one of them, the lemon-rosemary cookies. I know; they're not two flavors that you'd think of putting together, especially in cookies.

But trust me. They work amazingly well together. They really do.

That got me to thinking--which, as we all know, can be a very dangerous thing—about some of the other strange cookie flavor combinations I've tried over the years. Some have worked, some haven't, and some have become Jim staples. We're talking things like--

Double chocolate with red pepper flakes.

Whole wheat chocolate chip cookies

Triple chocolate with crystallized ginger cookies

Blackberry cinnamon cookies

Lavender sugar cookies

Honey Sage sugar cookies

Maple pecan bacon cookies.

And others.

Like I said, not all of them were successful, but several (like the whole wheat chocolate chip and the lavender sugar cookies) have become staples. Sometimes I just like to experiment; sometimes I'll eat a combination in a non-cookie setting and wonder how they'd work together a cookie.

So I find out.

The one thing I've wanted to try in a cookie but haven't yet found the perfect partner for is (and try not to gag here) curry powder. I love curry; whether or not it would work in a cookie has yet to be explored. But if I ever think of a way in which it might work, you can be sure that I'll give it a shot. I have no idea what the end result would be like, but I promise to give it a shot.

And, if that's the case, we'll see if they're as good as the lemon-rosemary cookies I made this past weekend!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 12/20

My fingers smell like rosemary. Of course, they're also red at the moment, which means that there's something strangely weird going on. Or weirdly strange. You pick.

The cookies are finally finished. That's just one of the zillion things I did during my long weekend, and that's the particular reason why my fingers are confused. One of the cookies I made accounts for the way my fingers smell; that would be the lemon-rosemary cookies of which I've become so fond. This year, I decided to use fresh rosemary, which means that I had to tear off and cut up the leaves from the stems I bought. I'm glad I did it; the aroma from fresh rosemary made the dough smell amazing, a taste I hope will transfer to the cookies. But since I had to hold the rosemary by hand to tear and cut it the oils from the herb transferred onto my fingers, where more than 12 hours later they still reside.

Of course, I LOVE rosemary, which means I think my hands smell heavenly. But that's just me.

Here's where the strangely weird (or weirdly strange) part comes in. My fingers smell like a green herb, yet look like they were attacked by a red one. One of the other cookies I made were for my traditional cherry-chocolate explosions, which means that I had to cut up a jar of maraschino cherries. I don't know how much food coloring was placed in those cherries, but by the time I finished cutting up the jar the fingers which I used were a very bright, almost neon red. They smelled like rosemary, mind you, but looked like they had gotten involved in an intimate relationship with a Twizzler.

Don't believe me?

No matter how many times I washed my hands (and I washed them a lot while making the dough, because I practice safe baking) the red coloring would not come out of my fingers. After taking a shower this morning the red coloring still didn't come out of my fingers, although it's faded a bit. I'm hoping it comes out soon; if not, I know that it'll eventually disappear as the skin cells on my fingers fall off.

Unless, of course, the dye in the cherries was so strong I gave myself a permanent tattoo cutting them up. THAT would be the gift that keeps on giving!

So hopefully, the red disappears soon. The scent of rosemary can stay if it wants, although that's disappearing at a much greater rate than the color. But who knows—maybe when I eat one or two of the cookies I can get a little of the smell to rub off on my hands. To play it safe, though, I may use gloves when eating the cherry cookies.

Just in case.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 12/16

You know, I think I might actually take my own advice.

Let's just hope it doesn't backfire!

Yesterday I wrote about the time crunch that most (if not all) of us face this time of the year. After mulling it over for a little but, I decided to actually do something about it. I'm gonna take tomorrow off and try to cross some of those zillion and a half things off the list I have going.

Wish me luck.

Actually, wish me luck for a couple of different reasons. One is that I actually get everything done at work to be able to take a day off. By taking tomorrow off that means that, because of the upcoming holidays, I'll have three short weeks in a row. I usually have enough trouble getting everything done during a normal week; I can't wait to see what it'll be like after three shorter weeks.

But I'm not going to let that stop me.

What do I hope to accomplish on my day off? Well, let's see. I'll be shooting the sixth episode (in the past 17 days!) of that TV show I host. I'm shooting two interviews (of other people) that we'll be using at that big Kaufman show Jack & I are doing in January. I have a couple of gifts left to pick up. I have all of my gifts left to wrap. I have all of my cookies left to bake. And...and...

Oops. I think I just ran out of time right there.

So, if you come back to read this tomorrow don't be surprised when you don't see a new one. I'll be off doing a ton (and a half) of things. Have yourself a great weekend, and I'll be back Monday!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 12/15

A couple of years ago, we ran a commercial that asked a very timely question--

What would you rather have this time of the year, more time or more money? I’ve always agreed with the answer the commercial gave, perhaps no more so than this year.

I would MUCH rather have the extra time!

That’s become OH so apparent the last week or so as I’ve I tried to cram in the thought of cookie baking, shopping, visiting family & friends, more baking, more shopping, shooting six (!) episodes of a TV show, preparing for a Kaufman show, and a few non-essential items like eating and sleeping (and working) in each 24-hour day. As I realized last night while lying in bed unable to sleep, the time for all of that is rapidly running out.

After all these years, you’d think we’d figure out how to budget time around the holidays, but it never seems to work. Every year, things seem to get added onto our schedule, and what we may have been able to accomplish before the holidays LAST year now mocks us as we cry while looking over our “to-do” lists.

I’ve taken to adding something onto my Christmas list every year. For the past 20 or so years, when anyone asks what I want for the holidays, I’ll list a couple of things I think people will want to get me, and then a couple of other fanciful items that I’d like but I know I’ll never get, which usually consist of world peace and my own spaceship. Since 2005 (I think) I’ve added a third item--a 25^th hour in the day.

Well, a boy can dream, can’t he? And while I have, in various forms, received “world peace” and “my own spaceship” over the past few years (on T-shirts, toys, and trinkets) Santa has yet to slip that extra hour per day into my stocking.

If you happen to visit Santa before next Friday night, wanna drop a hint or two for me? I’d sure appreciate it!

*****

Speaking of not having enough time, if you don’t have enough time (or gas) to drive around and look at Christmas lights, try THIS.

You can thank me later!!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 12/14

I think I caught a glimpse of my future this past weekend.

I don't think I realized it at the time, but the whole concept is something that popped into my head while running this morning. Because two of her daughters were home for a few days, my sister had her Christmas two weeks early. She was thoughtful enough to invite me and my camera, and I was able to spend a couple of hours taking pictures as wrapping paper went flying, and also chatted with various nieces and other members of her blended family.

Since we didn't get to do that last year, it was nice to do it this year, especially as they were passing presents around, laughing it up, and enjoying each other's company. It was a very, very cool thing to watch

When I was a (small) kid and we had extended family gatherings, there always seemed to be someone there I didn't know. It was usually an older person, and they would always be (at least to the very young me) lurking in the background and not really taking part in the festivities. I now know that person was an uncle or an aunt who the adults in the room wanted to be included in the family gathering. Back then, though, that individual just seemed to be the Strange Old Person at the party.

As I mentioned, my sister has a blended family, and one of the people at the party Sunday was a delightful young lady (from the other side of the blended family) who just looked at me a few times the way that I used to look at the uncle or the aunt at our celebrations all those decades ago.

That's when I realized I'm in the process of becoming the Strange Old Person at family gatherings.

Don't get me wrong; I had a great time at the party, and was never lurking in the background. But my sister's blended family now encompasses three generations, plus various boyfriends and husbands, all with their own interests and their own unique bonds and their own private jokes. As that family grows and expands, how much longer will it be until there's a whole group of younger people wondering who the dork is wandering around and taking pictures?

I'm thinking that's the glide path upon which I'm flying at the moment.

The strange this is I'm actually kinda okay with that. My nieces (and nephews) are amazing people, and one of the joys I've been able to experience is seeing them grow up and become those amazing people. And the great thing is that they're not done yet. As they keep growing and start to bring other individuals into the ever-increasing family circle, I'm curious to see how it all turns out, especially when a situation like Christmas or a birthday actually brings everyone together in person, like over this past weekend.

I just hope they all don't mind the Strange Old Person who crashes their celebrations every so often.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com), proto-Strange Old Person

Monday, 12/13

I'm saying this with a big smile on my face, but geez...kids these days.

Last week we had two tapings of “High School Bowl”, and that's where this story takes place. At one of the shoots we were doing a couple of practice questions before taping starts, a necessity when you have a dork as the host of the show. The practice question I asked regarded a luminary in the history of pop music, someone so important that his music has been sampled on hundreds of songs, a movie has been made of his life, and an entire generation of singers, everyone from Prince to Bruno Mars, has called him a major influence on their careers.

Yet none of the eight students to whom I posed the question, eight of the brightest young people on the planet, had any idea who James Brown was.

I know, right? How can you NOT know who “The Godfather of Soul” was? “I Feel Good”? “Papa's Got a Brand New Bag”? Even “Living in America” if you around during the 80s? But nope; the question had all of them stumped, and out of the corner of my eye I could see the coach of one of the teams just put his head in his hand and shake it a few times, as if not believing what he had just not heard.

I felt his pain. I really did.

Now, I guess have two thoughts about this. Part of me really can't blame teenagers for not knowing exactly who James Brown was. After all, his last big hit was 35 years ago and he himself died a decade and a half ago. But the other part of me just wants to shout out “You HAVE to know who James Brown was. His musical DNA is part of almost every song recorded since the 1960s. How can you NOT know who James Brown was?” The students knew who Prince was, because I asked. They certainly know who Bruno Mars is. But they had no idea about from whom those two artists drew (or draw) their inspiration.

I did leave them, though, with the promise that they'd Google James Brown, and find out a little about him. Maybe, just maybe, they'll then realize what an influence he was on pop music the last 50 years, and maybe, just maybe, they'll be ready to then answer a question about the Godfather of Soul should it ever pop up again. That's the least I could do.

Kids these days...

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 12/10

I wonder if it would help at all?

I received a note yesterday about my Charlie Brown Christmas tree from a blog reader (she thought it cute), and one of the things she mentioned is that while her mom is from the Copper Country, and while she's been there several times she herself has never set foot in Marquette except driving through town on the bypass.

And that got me to thinking...which, as we all know, can be a dangerous thing.

There are probably a lot of people like April who read these on a daily basis but who have rarely (or never) set foot in Marquette. But because I write about the city so often, and share so many pictures throughout the year, I started to wonder—could someone who reads these on a regular basis actually visit the city and, because they've read these blogs, know what's going on, who all the important players are, or know where they need to go?

I mean, think about it. I write about everything that Marquette has, every place we seem to go, and all of the weird things that seem to pop up. You'd think that would provide a little background info for people who've never been here, right? I mean, at the very least, those people would know what months to visit for beach weather, where to go for interesting food, and what's being built, and why. So could someone who's never been here, but has read these ramblings (and, perhaps, the ramblings of others from the area), get plopped into, say, Lower Harbor Park and hit the ground with their feet running?

That's what I'd be curious about.

One of the reasons I wonder is that I read a lot of blogs and Facebook posts from places we've been (if even for an hour) and I can visualize what the writers from those areas are talking about. But those are areas where, at the very least, I've set foot. Could one person write enough stuff about one area so that if I were to pop in unannounced, I'd know the lay of the land, or at the very least who to ask? Like I said, I'd be curious.

Of course, if any of you who read these and who've never been in Marquette actually find yourself in our fair city, I hope you'd let me know. I mean, not only would I be curious to know if reading these things actually prompted you to come here, but if that were the case, I know a dork who'd love to show you all the stuff he's been writing about all these years.

8-)

On that note, have yourself a great weekend. Keep your fingers crossed we don't get the snow everyone's panicking about!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 12/9

There. Now we're in the spirit of the season.

I know it's only two weeks and a day or so before Christmas Eve, but much like last year it really doesn't feel like the holidaze are on the way. So in order to try and get in the mood just a little more, I decided to get festive at the station with the most fitting decoration I could find--

That's apt for a second Covid Christmas, right?

8-)

I was given the tree (from, obviously, “A Charlie Brown Christmas”) as a gift a long time ago, but I never actually put it up anywhere. There were several years when I was tempted to do it, but things just hadn't descended quite so far down that it seemed appropriate.

Then 2021 decided to say “hold my beer”.

All of us who work at the station on a regular basis got together, took a vote, and decided this was the year to deploy the tree. There wasn't much debate; I voted “yes” and, uhm, since I'm the only one who works at the station on a regular basis that vote stood. Not only that, but all of us who work at the station on a regular basis decided that the tree will be the extent of the decorations this year.

With as apt of a symbol as that particular tree is, who needs more?

Now that the station is decorated, I supposed I should get around to decorating our apartment, as well. When I went into the basement to get the Charlie Brown tree I also brought up our “regular” tree, and one of these days I might even take it out of the box and plug it in. But there are still two weeks left to go.

Why rush things, right? The important thing is the station is now decorated, in the most 2021 way possible. Now that that's taken care of, I can start to think about making our apartment a little more holiday'd up, even perhaps in a little more traditional and cheery way.

That would show our second Covid Christmas season in a row, wouldn't it?

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 12/8

Yup. We're finally going to give the Detroit Lions their due.

As you may recall, we faced a little good-natured push-back when we used Upper Michigan's Favorite Friday to figure out Upper Michigan's favorite song about losing, if for no other reason to “honor” the long-running addiction to losing that the state's professional football team can't seem to shake. We said at the time that if they ever won a game this season we'd figure out Upper Michigan's favorite song about being a winner, and guess what the Lions did a few days ago?

We're keeping our word. After all, it's not every day a genuine miracle occurs!

I mean, sure—the Lions may end up 1-15-1 for the season, but we said that if we won—even if it was on a last-second, last-ditch pass against a weaker opponent—we'd do this. And we are. But I've discovered something rather interesting while putting this all together.

Did you know there are a lot more songs about losing than there are about winning?

I think I know why. People love to write songs about heartbreak and tragedy and loss, and those are the three words through which the Lions live. But songs about being a winner? Well, there's Santana's “Winning”. There's Queen's “We Are the Champions”. And there's the theme from “Rocky”. But other than that?

Songs about winning seem to be almost as rare as the Lions actually having a winning season.

Don't worry; there are a few other songs we can sneak in in order to give listeners a fair choice. It's just kind of interesting. Winning at something can be one of the most amazing feelings in the world. Yet hardly anyone writes about it. So if you want a million dollar idea, there you go. Write a hit song about winning, and you should be all set.

And, if the past is any indication, you'll be more successful at that than the Lions are at their chosen profession. So good luck!

(jim@wmqt.com) 

Tuesday, 12/7

I have to go do a TV show in a bit. Before that, I have to go clean six inches of snow off of Loraine's car, and make sure it can get out of the driveway okay. So with both those in mind I'm gonna take the easy way out and leave you with something from five or six years ago, but something that seems to be more and more in need by people on the Internet each and every day.

Back with something new tomorrow!

(jim@wmqt.com)

*****

(as originally posted 11/7/16)

They're on their way there. See? It isn't that hard.

I know I've probably railed about the misuse of the different forms of “there” in the past, so forgive me if I'm babbling babbles that I've already babbled. But there was a meme going around on Facebook this morning in which someone posted that people join an organization because “there to stupid to do anything else”.

Ladies and gentlemen, I believe we have the very latest definition of the word “irony” right there.

I'm starting to wonder if this whole “there/their/they're” problem is the latest version of the “chicken & the egg” quandary. Are people just grammatically lacking overall, and we notice it more these days because they post everything they write on the internet? Or has technology—the internet and spell-check—made people less carefree about being correct and accurate, so much so that they don't actually know which “their” to use here and there?

Some days, I just don't know.

Now, I make a lot of grammatical & spelling errors when I write, as those of you who read this are no doubt aware. I rely too much on spell-check, and each and every one of these could probably use an extra round of proofreading, the time for which is, unfortunately, limited. So I'm not claiming to live in a glass house. I'm not claiming to be a perfect writer myself. But if I were to post something accusing someone else of being stupid?

I'd make sure I wasn't an idiot myself. But then, that's just me.

I'll shut up about this now, if for no other reason than I have to go hang out with people who, I'm guessing, actually DO know which “there” to use, four teams of some of the brightest young people on the planet, who will be taking part in another action packed edition of “High School Bowl”. It starts shooting in about an hour, in fact, assuming the weather allows them to make it there.

Just not their. Or they're.

Monday, 12/6

I know I'm a bad boy for doing it. But it wouldn't surprise me if some of you do it as well.

I spent part of my birthday weekend making the dough for some of the cookies I'll be baking for the holidays. I threw it all the finished dough in the freezer, and I'll thaw it out and bake it all before Christmas. I've done it this way for a couple of years now. I found that spending two or three hours making the dough in advance really does make the VERY long day(s) of baking I usually have just a bit shorter. So I think it's a good idea.

That's not why I was a bad boy, though. When making the dough I, of course, wanna make sure it's okay. I wanna make sure it's turning out the way I want it to turn out, and I wanna make sure that there's nothing untoward about it. After all, I'm giving most (if not all) of these cookies away, and like any good baker I need to make sure they're gonna be edible. So when the dough's done, I grab a spoonful and taste it, to make sure that it's good to go.

That's right. Despite all the warnings, despite all the advice of experts, I eat raw cookie dough. Oh, the horror!!!

8-)

Yes, I know you're not supposed to eat raw cookie dough, especially raw cookie dough that has raw eggs mixed into it. I know that you can theoretically get all kinds of food-borne illnesses from consuming even one microgram of raw cookie dough. Heck, even the bag of flour I was using yesterday told me not to eat the flour raw, whether it was in cookie dough or not. But apparently I like being a rebel. Apparently I like living on the edge. And that was quite apparent yesterday when I made four kinds of cookie dough and ate four bites of the raw stuff.

And yet, I'm still alive.

Now, I know that it's probably a bad thing to do. I'm aware of what kind of organisms can lurk in uncooked foods. And I wouldn't eat a piece of raw chicken or even, like Sylvester Stallone in “Rocky”, quaff an entire raw egg. But I've been eating small samples of raw cookie dough since I started baking cookies as a kid. And not once in those 40+ years have I gotten sick from it. Sure, the possibility of barfing all over the kitchen exists, but the amount of “dangerous” material in a tiny bite of raw cookie dough is probably so small that I don't have to worry. Either that, or I can apparently ingest all kinds of toxic material and not be affected by it.

Unless, of course, I turn into a nuclear-powered super hero (or evil villain). Then I'll know I WAS affected by it.

But I understand why experts (and even flour bags) warn you NOT to eat raw cookie dough. I'm sure some fool out there once made cookie dough using 14 eggs and four-year old flour, ate it all in one sitting, blew their stomach out, and sued the food manufacturers for not telling them not to do it. After all, that's the American way. But having one small bite, just to make sure it tastes up to standards? I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing to do. Like I said, call me a contrarian, but I've been doing it since I started baking cookies, and I'm guessing I won't be stopping any time soon.

(jim@wmqt.com), bad boy of baking. 

Friday, 12/3

I don’t mind birthdays. It’s the part about getting older that I don’t like.

Some of you may know that it’s my birthday tomorrow, and I guess I’m okay with that. I don’t expect people to make a big deal out of it; it’s nothing more than the anniversary of me finally relieving my mother of the burden of carrying me around for ten months. If anything, she’s the one who deserves the honors tomorrow, since I wasn’t born until a month after my due date, and this was the day she was finally relieved of that misery.

So thanks for the extra 30 days, Mom!!

But whenever you have a birthday you’re forced to confront the fact that you’re getting older, and if there’s one thing you might have learned by reading this ramblings over the past how ever many years it’s that members of the Koski family don’t like to confront the fact that there’s nothing you can do about getting older. It just happens, whether you want it to or not.

Who do we see about changing that, by the way?

As I’ve gotten older I’ve noticed, despite my best efforts, more and more signs popping up reminding me of that fact that I am indeed getting on in years. Of course, the latest had to popped up yesterday morning. I finished working out and was about to go through a few pages of a magazine (yes, another one of those signs that I’m “old”) and I noticed that I couldn’t quite make out the print on the page, which I found odd, because I usually have no trouble making out the print. It was then I realized that I wasn’t wearing my glasses, which, as for most “old” people, are bifocals. I slipped them on, and then had no trouble reading the print.

Aside from the heavy sigh the incident provoked, a bit of curiosity bubbled to the surface, as well. Even without glasses, I’ve always been able to read things with no problem. In fact, when I read magazines or newspapers after working out in the morning or when I read in bed every night it’s usually without eyewear. Yet for some reason yesterday I couldn't read the print in the magazine until I put my glasses on I don’t know if it’s because the print was smaller than usual or because the room was rather dark or if (gasp) my eyes are just getting a little worse as time (gasp) marches on, but for the first time, I couldn’t focus on the type well enough to read what was on the page. It didn’t matter how close I got to the page, or how far away I held it, something just didn’t work out until I used my glasses.

Oh, woe is me.

Since then, I’ve read a few other things—including the same magazine —without wearing my glasses, and I’ve been able to see them just fine. But that fact that I had this particular problem for the first time just a few days before turning another year “older” affected me in the way that all incidents related to aging affect me—with me not handling it like an ”adult” would.

So at least I’ve got that going for me.

Don’t worry; I’m sure that as these incidents keep popping up, I’ll (hopefully) get a better grip on them. After all, as I’m always told, these incidents DO pop up more and more as you age more and more, and, as I’ve found, there’s nothing you can (yet) do to stop that. So like I said, while I don’t mind birthdays, this whole getting “older” thing is just not my cup of tea.

Sigh. . .and make it a heavy one, if you’d like.

Have a great weekend!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 12/2

I'm thinking Greek for Christmas. And yes, I'm talking about food for the fourth day in a row now. You have a problem with that?

8-)

Covid has wrecked many holiday traditions for a lot of us, and for Loraine and me it's put the kibosh on two very important ones. The first is that my parents have escaped to Florida and we won't be having Christmas dinner with them (at least in person). The second is that the Greek Orthodox Church in Marquette is once again not having their holiday bake sale, something that would normally be occurring this weekend. This happened to us last year, as well, so on Christmas Day 2020 I tried my hand at making Greek food for the first time.

And since it didn't suck I guess I'll be trying it again this year, as well.

In all total honesty I would MUCH rather be eating Greek food baked by people who know how to do it, by people who've been doing it all of their lives. But I certainly do understand why the bake sale isn't happening again this year. Maybe next year, right?

Even if that's what we wished for last year.

I think I'm going to try Pastitsio again. It's kind of a Greek lasagna with all kinds of spices (including cinnamon) and a bechamel sauce on top. When I made it last year it tasted like it was supposed to, although it didn't look like the Pastitsio made by Greek ladies who know what they're doing. I think I know where I zigged instead of zagged (including the type of pasta I used for the base) so I'm confident it'll look better this year. I have no illusions that it'll actually look like I know what I'm doing, but I'm confident that it'll look better than it did last year.

And yes, I realize I'm the only one who cares about that. But I still do care about it.

I'm also pondering whether or not to try baking some of the amazing Greek desserts you can usually get at the bake sale. I didn't last year; making the Pastitsio was daunting enough as it was. But this year I might try something simple. I mean, I won't be making Baklava or anything (especially anything with Phyllo dough). But melomakarona (Greek spice cookies) or a Greek orange spice cake?

We'll have to see how ambitious I get. I still have a couple of weeks in which to figure it out. Wish me luck!

****

And on that note, I'm done writing about food for the week. Honest, I am. Something non-food tomorrow!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 12/1

I've been talking about food and/or grocery stores every day so far this week, so why stop now?

Right?

Actually, it's just something I observed while eating dinner last night, something so...strange that it made a piece of spinach shoot out of my mouth because I was laughing so hard at the absurdity of it all.

Sorry about that, Loraine.

Okay...what made me laugh so hard that a piece of spinach went shooting out of my mouth? Well, it was in a flier for a local grocery store. One of the deals they have coming up is this—if you buy four of one item, you get a fifth, separate item for free. It's something grocery stores do all the time and, usually, the items are grouped together by some common thread. You know, buy four boxes of cake mixes and get a container of frosting for free; something along those lines. So just what was this particular grouping, the one that made me laugh so hard spinach went shooting out of my mouth?

Buy four Healthy Choice frozen dinners, and get a container of ice cream free.

No, I'm not making that up. I couldn't make it up if I tried. I wasn't seeing things, either. After I apologized to Loraine for shooting spinach out of my mouth I showed her, and she saw it too. There is a currently a deal at a local grocery store—buy four things that are supposed to be healthy (heck, “Healthy” is even in the name!) and get a tub of fat absolutely free.

Now do you see why I laughed so hard that spinach flew out of my mouth?

I don't know why the store stuck those items together. I don't know if the store just got a great deal on a bulk buy of ice cream and needs to get rid of it, or if someone actually sat down and said “you know, we should pair a low calorie dinner with a high calorie dessert. That makes sense, right?” I mean, sure it makes sense, or at least as much sense as going into a restaurant and ordering four pieces of cheesecake and a Diet Coke. But there it is, in the flier in black and white (or red, black, & white, if you wanna be technical). Buy four “healthy” dinners, and get a tub of ice cream for free.

America. What a country.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)