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)