Wednesday, 12/2

 This may be turning into “Birthday at the Beach” all over again.

Some of you may remember four or five years ago when it was mild few days heading into my birthday and I actually (as a gag) went to the beach on my big day. I did it because after mentioning it a few times on the air it seemed to touch a nerve with a lot of people; even Loraine was getting people she works with ask if I was actually going to the beach in December.

On occasion, especially on an occasion like that, I get reminded about the power of radio.

Anyway, something (kind of) along those lines seems to be happening again. My birthday is Friday, so as a gag (or, mostly as a gag) I decided that we'd figure out Upper Michigan's favorite Hall & Oates song on “Upper Michigan's Favorite Friday”. In the promo I wrote for it I had our announcer mention that we're doing it because it's my birthday and because I wanted to listen to Hall & Oates songs all day.

I mean, sure...it's a joke. But I COULD think of worse ways to spend my birthday.

Anyway, since the promo started airing over the weekend I've had over half a dozen people call or e-mail in their requests for Hal & Oates songs as a birthday gift to me. As one lady said, “Why should you have to wait until your birthday to hear a song. Play one for yourself now”.

Wow. I had no idea that a). people actually listened to those promos, and 2). that they cared enough to want me to have a nice birthday. But like I said, on occasion I get reminded about the power of radio.

Wow.

I'm glad to know that that power is still around; after almost a year of me working alone and listeners having their lives and their listening patterns disrupted I was starting to wonder things were still working the way they were supposed to. But this kind of reaction, especially for something as dorky as a bunch of Hall & Oates songs, lets me know that despite everything going on some things never change.

And that's kind of a cool gift as we're heading toward me getting another year older. Sure, it's not me spending my birthday at the beach (although I could, because the forecast does call for sun (and, uhm, 36 degrees)), but this year, especially, I'll take what I can get.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 12/1

 How stupid is it that I can't even spell the word in English anymore?

I tell you; it's not easy being me sometimes. As those of you who read this on a regular basis know my mind sometimes does stuff that defies logic and/or reality. There are days or times when I don't seem to have any control over it (my mind, that is), and that once again became apparent when I was writing yesterday's blog, the one about our Thanksgiving dinner. As I was typing it, I noticed I spelled one of the ingredients like--

Pistache

Now, I know what it means. It's a certain kind of nut that I gobble by the handful, and a certain kind of nut that resides in my favorite French & Belgian chocolate bars. And that probably explains why I wrote it in the blog in French; after all, when I see it written down it's usually in that language. I can understand that. What I can't understand is why, after realizing I wrote it in French and then went to change it to English, that I had absolutely NO idea how to spell the word “pistachio” in my native language.

Sometimes I amaze even myself. And usually not in a good way.

I stared at the word when I tried to write it in English, but it still resembled the French version more than it did the English (well, technically, Italian, right?) way of writing it. For whatever reason, my brain couldn't comprehend the translation of the word from my second language to my first. It just didn't work. So I did what any reasonable person did—I pulled out my phone, went to Google, and typed in “p-i-s-t” where, within a matter of nanoseconds, the English version of the word popped up on my screen. It still didn't look right, but I figured that if anyone knew how to spell it Google would know how to spell it.

After all, everything we find on the Internet is correct all the time, right?

Anyway, “pistachio” is now immortalized on the blog, even though it still looks a little too strange for my tastes. And that reminds me—I need to buy more. The dinner depleted my supply. So the next time we're at the store I'll have to pick another package up. However, given my track record of late, it wouldn't surprise me if I spent a big chuck of the day wandering around the grocery store in search of “pistaches”.

I just hope there's someone there who speaks French and can point me in the right direction. If not, well...it's not easy being me. Really, it isn't.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com), lost cause, from the sounds of it.

Monday, 11/30

 It turned out pretty well, thanks for asking.

First of all, hope you had a great Turkey Day weekend, in whatever form it took this year. My girlfriend and I did, taking the soccer balls out into Thanksgiving (!) sunshine before digging into that casserole-type thingee I mentioned last time we met. It took parts of two days, but we were both happy with the end result--

It all started Wednesday night, when I roasted a turkey breast with rosemary butter and made home made cranberry sauce. Then after we kicked the balls around for an hour Thursday I put those two ingredients together with cornbread stuffing and baby spinach, and topped the whole things with chopped pistachios.

20 minutes later at 350, and we had ourselves a feast. And, without tooting my own horn (too much), a pretty good feast at that.

I can't claim full credit for the dish; Loraine found a recipe that called for some of the ingredients, and I just took it from there. It called for turkey cubes (whatever those are), but I went the roasted rosemary butter route. I also chose the cornbread stuffing instead of boring old white bread stuffing. The recipe called for dried cranberries; it was Loraine who suggested I make fresh sauce. And, for some strange reason (probably because this is America) the recipe called for the whole thing to be covered by half a pound of cheddar cheese.

Thankfully, my girlfriend thought of topping it with the chopped pistachios instead. Have I ever mentioned we make a pretty good team?

8-)

So that's how the Covid Thanksgiving dinner turned out. It wasn't what we usually eat and it wasn't where we usually eat it, but we made do. Hopefully, he says way too optimistically, by the time the next holiday rolls around we'll be able to celebrate it at least partially like we usually do. But if not, I think we'll be able to handle it.

I really do.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 11/25

They say the average Thanksgiving dinner only goes 64% according to plan. I'll have to see if I can beat the odds.

That statistic once again comes form “Jim's Weird Fact of the Day”, which means that somewhere some scientist sat down and crunched the numbers. Apparently, when putting together a Thanksgiving dinner, you have hopes & dreams as to how it will turn out. And, on average, 64% of your hopes & dreams come true. That number goes up to 90% if you don't have guests, which means that if you DO have guests you are, from the looks of it, setting yourself up for failure.

Good thing you're not supposed to have guests over this year, huh?

8-)

Because of the pandemic and family members either playing it safe or in other parts of the country it's just me & my girlfriend for Thanksgiving for the first time in a LONG time. Aside from an apple pie I'm getting from the grocery store my sister owns, I'm putting together the whole feast myself. Don't worry; I'm not going whole hog by cooking a whole turkey just for the two of us. Instead, I'm making a casserole-type thingee that combines cranberry sauce (which I made myself), stuffing mix (made of cornbread, so I'm hoping it's okay), and a turkey breast, which I'm roasting tonight in a rosemary-sage butter that I made up last night.

Hopefully, it'll turn out closer to the 90% than the 64%. We'll just have to see.

I know it'll be a strange Thanksgiving for everyone, Loraine and I included. I'm just hoping that, no matter how or with whom you're celebrating, that you have a safe and a fun holiday. And that your celebration, like mine (fingers crossed) is closer to 90 percent than 64!

(jim@wmqt.com)

(ps—due to work schedules this may be the final entry for the week. If that's the case, see you Monday. If not, see you Friday!) 

Tuesday, 11/24

 11 am, huh?

I have no idea why this fact interests me so, but it does. For some strange reason, someone did a survey on death; specifically, someone did a survey on the typical times and dates people die. For instance, according to this study in the Annals of Neurology, the older you get, the more likely you are to die on your birthday (which means I should be REALLY careful next week). You're also a little more likely to die after getting a paycheck, as well (probably from the shock of seeing how underpaid you are). And, more people die in the late morning than at any other time. In fact, a few minutes either side of 11 am seems to be the deadliest time of the day for humans.

For whatever reason.

I used it as my “Weird Fact of the Day” yesterday, and for whatever reason it's been stuck in my head ever since. Why 11 am? You always hear about people dying in their sleep, so shouldn't it be 3 in the morning? And you know how many drunk drivers are out there, so why not 11 pm? Nope; the most likely time for a human to die is around 11 am.

And that's exactly how it was worded—”for a human”. I don't know if that's because they were writing in, you know, the Annuals of Neurology and wanted to be specific, or if they included chipmunks or brown bears or squid in the study, but if you're a human—and I'm guessing that's, oh, 60% or so of you reading this—you're more likely to die at 11 am than any other time.

Yikes.

I'm hoping I'm safe; after all, most days at 11 am I've been awake a couple of hours, I've quaffed a cup or two of (green) tea, and I've had my morning dark chocolate. All those are things that are good for your health. I'm usually at work by then, which means that I've successfully navigated crossing a bunch of streets without getting hit by a car. And it's usually early enough so that all the little things that might cause one's blood pressure to shoot out of control haven't happened yet.

11 am seems safe for me. I hope it is for you, too. However, I will stick in this addendum--if you're reading this within a couple of minutes of 11 am today, be careful out there. After all, I'd like you to come back tomorrow (at 11 am or any time) and read this again.

The more you know, after all...

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 11/23

 It took me 24 hours to figure it out, but I really am a lucky person.

My girlfriend Loraine was watching an interview over the weekend with Noel Gallagher, the brains behind Oasis, and the interviewer was throwing a series of rapid-fire questions at him. He would be given two items, and he had to choose which one he would give up forever if he was forced to pick. Most of them were goofy and musically oriented (“The Stones or The Who”? “Fender or Gibson”?) and gave Gallagher fits having to choose, but there was one he had no problem with—the city or the beach? He rattled off “the city” quickly; as it turns out, he doesn't even like the beach. The question, though, stuck with me. If I was forced to choose between giving up either the city or the beach, the two places I love to be in more than any other, I don't think I could. It's be like Sophie having to choose between her children.

There's just no good outcome to that question, and no one—NO ONE—should ever be forced to have to make that horrid decision.

As I've written in here many times before, I am an urban creature. I need concrete and I need people and I need the feeling of being a part of something, even in the joy that is 2020. If you were to force me to live in the woods or in someplace without a sidewalk I probably couldn't handle it. And as I've written in here before, my dream job is being a (highly paid) beach bum. So the thought of having to choose between the two just wouldn't work.

As I was running this morning I came to a realization. I realized that, living where I live, I would never have to make that choice. I would never have to choose between being in a city or going to a beach. I can have my concrete and sidewalks and people, and I can have my beach. I can have them at the same time. In fact, I've had them at the same times many times, as I leave work or my apartment, and hop on a bike or take a short walk down to McCarty's Cove or South Beach. I actually live in a place where I can be in a city AND a beach at the same time.

I live in a place that has BOTH of my versions of heaven. How many people get to say that?

I mean; seriously—how many people get to say that? How many people get to be in an urban core of a city and yet have a beach a few seconds away? Very few. And of those few, how many actually take time out of their day to appreciate it? I mean, even I think I've been a little guilty of taking the fact that Marquette has great beaches for granted; after all, they're just part of what makes this city so wonderful. Maybe it took that question to point out just how amazingly lucky we are here. Maybe when you're pondering having to choose between two incredible things, your eyes are opened just a little bit more as to how lucky you really are.

I hope I never, ever have to answer that question posed to Noel Gallagher. But in a way, I'm glad he was asked.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 11/20

 Sure...just one day after admitting I've been subverting the will of the voters I get a note that calls me “a friend of democracy”.

Oh boy.

8-)

Yesterday, I was joking about not being happy with “Kokomo” being named Upper Michigan's favorite Beach Boy song ever, and how I was going out of my way to try to get that overturned (not that that would EVER happen in real life). When the mail came to the station after I wrote the blog there was a thank you card in it from the League of Women Voters, who wanted to express their appreciation for the series of educational and “Get Out The Vote” announcements we ran prior to the election. And in it, they truly did say that I am “a friend of democracy”.

Do I feel like a heel now, or what?:

You see, I really am a friend of democracy. I believe each and every vote counts, that the people who run elections know what they're doing, and that if you lose, you should accept the results. Because, you know, that's how a representative democracy works. No matter how much you don't like the way it turned out, you just can't try to get rid of votes against you. You can't. That's not how it works. And I should not have done that with the vote of our listeners naming “Kokomo” as Upper Michigan's favorite Beach Boys song ever.

So here's my vow. From now on, I WILL play the liner I was talking about yesterday each time before the song airs. After all, as “a friend of democracy”, it's the right thing to do. The people have spoken. If I don't follow their wishes, I'm not better than any autocrat or dictator who's ever tried to rule unjustly.

So “Kokomo” it is. All “friends of democracy” can rest assured that their vote will count, now and forever.

(jim@wmqt.com), friend of democracy.