RUTABAGA RULES!

    

Ryan reveals an efficient method for reducing the super-hard rutabaga to mincemeat. 

Rutabaga lovers listen up.  For years, at rutabaga prep time, this weakling cook delegated the daunting task of paring and chopping the rutabaga to others.  This lovely vegetable, underappreciated by many folk, is tough to cut up leading rutabaga connoisseurs to plan and plot new strategies. 

There’s the microwave partially method… It doesn’t work.  There’s the pound on cleaver with hammer to divide method…Sort of crude and the cleaver gets stuck.  Then there’s the drop whole in boiling water to soften first method, which promotes wax floating everywhere.  Some methods work some of the time, but with a rutabaga you never know what you’re gonna get.  You can’t tell by looking, squeezing, or smelling it, how hard it is and how sweet it will be.

If you know something I don’t, know please clue me in.

Christmas morning, after opening presents, sampling chocolates, cooking the traditional sausage and refried beans meal and trying out a few gadgets, we got an early start on prep for the main Christmas feast.  As usual, I determined that the potatoes and rutabaga would taste best if someone else did the chopping and paring.  The rutabagas, two ugly little orbs, were waiting.  If they were really hard as I knew they could be, the son-unit should put some male brawn into the job. 

“Here, peel first, then chop it into one-inch squares” I directed, gesturing to the kitchen knife selection.

He disappeared into his bedroom where he has god-knows-what spilling out of muddy bags from his recent return from Hispaniola. 

I feared he might be ducking the job but he soon returned bearing his trusty 200-peso machete. It’d been his constant companion and multi-task tool for the past 27 month-- So of course he brought it back.  Who knows what he might run into back in Michigan! 

He quickly pared off the waxy skin and started chopping.  He hacked his way efficiently through those two baggies in no time at all.  It was better than a Ginsu knife. 

My Christmas shopping list for next year just got very simple; Machetes for everyone!

  

SAINT SEEN IN ST IGNACE TODAY!

A saint of sorts arrived in Saint Ignace today at noon.

The bright morning dims to another gray Northland day.  The Straits of Mackinac are bleak and dismal.  A Sheppler’s ferry streams in from “The Island” as they refer to Mackinac Island here.  There are no tourists or travelers on the open deck that’s for sure. There must be someone huddled inside or the boat probably wouldn’t have made the crossing. 

“Hmmm”   I say to myself.  (At least I think I only said it to myself)

"Just who is crossing to the mainland this time of year?"

Could be shoppers, could be islanders gathering parts and registrations for the fleet of snowmobiles that will roar to life once some snow falls.   It’s certainly not Jamaican workers—they’ve all gone back to another warmer island for the winter.

The water on the straits is all slate gray swells with occasional frosted tips of whitecaps.  Mostly just swells though.  The ferry is the only boat traffic I see. 

My mood, paralleling the highs and lows of sunlight levels, begins to slide down into its own gray trough.

When what to my wondering eye should appear,

But an elf dressed in red who walks right in here!

He shakes hands in the lobby and shares candy canes,

Then hands one to me as my gloominess wanes.

Santa Claus arrived in Saint Ignace today!  He looks great!   

His red suit is plush and his beard  is snow white and lustrous.   It doesn’t look like the economy or the recent turmoil in the world is affecting him at all.  He confides that he is moonlighting for a radio station though, so maybe he’s feeling the pinch.  The station that hired him is one that’s already switched to all Christmas music even though it's still early December.

They have the perfect guy for the job! 

Saint Ignace: You better watch out. . .

Santa Claus is here on State Street and he's watching you!                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

MICHIGAN MEN

Where oh where are the single men?    Where oh where can they be?
  

Fit and mature Michigan Man. 



I’ve reviewed a few .  .  .  dating site profiles and know there really are single guys in Michigan.  Based on extensive sampling most have a sense of humor, like dogs and are easy-going according to their friends.  The smokers are trying to quit and they only drink socially.  They are fit and athletic, just average or have a few extra pounds. They all love Michigan and its beaches and sunsets. Very promising.

Just for fun mind you, I read further and look at pictures.  I just love the pics of guys on boats with the Great Lakes in the background. I also like pics of guys in Greektown, flying over the Mackinac Bridge or hiking the Pictured Rocks. 

My preferences: Intelligent, educated, physically active, active sense of humor, like to travel and eclectic taste in music.

My rejection triggers: Smokers with exhale-in-your-face attitude, machine heads, too religious--sorry, can’t string two words together, more than one pic on a motorcycle, only like country music, T.M.I. about sexual preferences.

It’s good to know that sex is still an interest and a possibility but really guys, should I have to Google tantric, ectosexual, etc. before we even exchange the first e-mail?  Call me old-fashioned but I like coffee and conversation first and not just as foreplay.   

On many days I look fairly young for my age but I’m turned off by guys who say,

“My friends say I look much younger than my age”



Cute and youthful looking but
I'd prefer more mature, wouldn't you?

 Think about it; this wasn’t good when you were 23 and looked like you were 11.  And it’s not attractive now that you’re 57 to pretend you only look like you’re 45 in the hopes that some woman who is only 33 will want to date you. 

Smugly, I wonder just what kind of 33-year-old-woman is attracted to an immature 58-year-old man who thinks with the mentality of a 23-year-old. If you find a 33-year-old woman who is attracted by this you must be made for each other. Congratulations!  I hope you live happily ever after.

Confession—I’ve smirked disdainfully at a few profiles but really it’s good that people expose foibles.  It helps to eliminate and that’s not a bad thing.  There are awesome, wonderful guys out there who I don’t want to date.  So if you’ve winked at me and I’ve ignored you--I’m still flattered that you noticed. 

When I signed on to the cyber singles site I was pleased to discover so many interesting guys.  If I were at a coffee shop and could talk to them I would.  There are many that I ignore.  If I were at a coffee shop I’d probably talk to them too but I wouldn’t give them my phone number.


I’m not kissing frogs or dreaming of a prince.  Someone human, alive and in-between might be just right.  But if a frog or prince or the King of Siam came along and sang to me I’d listen. 

Getting to know you,
Getting to know all about you.

And just maybe, after a few cups of coffee, a rendezvous, a glass of wine, a walk in the park, some shared sunsets and conversation, things would roll around to:

You are precisely,
My cup of tea.

In the meantime, I’d better go tweak my dating profile.