02.27.08
Posted in Confessions, food
at 09:37
(A Mini How-to)
When life gives you lemons, you can make lemonade. Well…usually. But when it gives you mouldy tomatoes? I can only think of one thing rotten tomatoes are good for. Throwing!
After a long day at work, I was feeling a bit ornery, and upon being greeted by a bag of fuzzy produce, I decided to take it out on my favourite grocer. No, I didn’t *literally* throw the tomatoes at ******. Only metaphorically. Here’s how things shook down:
- The goods
- 1 x bag of mouldy tomatoes
- 1 x receipt for said tomatoes
- 1 x $0.70 off cereal coupon
- 1 x ********** discount card
- 1 x canvas tote bag
- The plan: Get in, get a refund, get a good deal, get out.
- The boon:
- 1 x $5 box of cereal
- 1 x receipt
- $0.15
- 1 x plastic bag…oops
- The net result: a worthless bag of bad produce (original cost $1.75) traded for a $5 box of cereal and $0.15 change. Now that’s a refund. Thank you, ****!
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01.02.08
Posted in Confessions
at 10:41
Hmm… Well 2008 is here and I couldn’t help but go back over my post from last January (http://www.canisaureus.org/wordpress/archives/changes). I guess life isn’t quite as bad as I had feared. I don’t have a job yet and that’s a little scary. I don’t really have any better idea what to do now than I did when I worried about it a year in advance. Thus it’s proved: worrying is a waste of time.
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11.29.07
Posted in Random
at 06:39
Hope has two beautiful daughters. Their names are anger and courage; anger at the way things are, and courage to see that they do not remain the way they are.
[attributed to] St. Augustine of Hippo
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11.11.07
Posted in Uncategorized
at 01:39
The other day I made a culinary faux pas while cooking dinner. I added a bit too much cumin to a split pea dal I was preparing. I told my roommate that if it should prove inedible, it would be my own damned fault. I would have to admit that I’d had it ‘cumin,’ then desert my efforts and have just ‘desert.’
This led to a discussion of the spelling of “just deserts.” Many people seem to think that this phrase refers to the after dinner sweet it sounds like. But “the cake is a lie.” Actually, it refers to getting what one justly deserves. “Desert” in this sense is the nominal (noun) form of “deserve.” Thus my last comment was not a literalised metaphor, but a criminally bad pun.
And just to set the record straight, “come-uppins” are not a type of bread pudding. “Humble pie” in the original sense had nothing to do with humility. It is an actual thing made with the entrails–the “humbles”–of an animal, especially a deer. (With my excessive arrogance and repeated use of puns in this post, it sounds like the kind of dessert I’m worthy of.) Although one can argue that humbles historically being eaten by those of lower societal status would indicate some kind of etymological relation. I dunno, ask your philologist next time you go in for a checkup.
In any case, I ate my words with fork and spoon and my dal with some rice. It turned out just fine.
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10.22.07
Posted in Reflections
at 11:18
My roommates are into computer games. The phrase “the cake is a lie” has been borrowed from one of their games and used as an inside joke of sorts in our apartment.
The other day I was thinking. <insert standard joke here> It is reasonably obvious that the middle class American lifestyle is dependent on the poverty of the “third world” in numerous ways. Yet we westerners have this funny notion of ending world poverty. I think that’s an admirable goal. The problem (or one of an endless slew of problems) is, even if we can scrape together enough cash to develop the economies of every nation on earth to a point where most people live like western middle class folks (most, mind you–there would still be some very wealthy in every nation, and some poor, but it would be a much less cruel poverty.) Even if we could do that, doing so would destroy the planet. Whether or not you believe in global warming, think about this: if 6.6 billion people ate meat every day, how many cows would have to be raised to feed them? How many acres, how much feed grain and water would those cows use? How many more cows would we have to have on top of that to give 6.6 billion people the milk and dairy products they need? How many sheep, goats, chickens, ducks, rabbits… How many acres of rice, wheat, corn, barley, oats, etc.? How many pounds of fresh produce? How much water would it take to grow all that? How much water would it take to complete their showers, flush their toilets? How much gas would it take to fuel their cars, boats, trucks, planes… How much steel, concrete,wood, copper, aluminum, plastic and glass would it take to build their homes and package their food? How much more garbage and waste water and smoke would be generated by their consumption? How much more electricity would be needed to charge their cell phones and iPods, run their computers and light their houses? I haven’t even scratched the surface.
The point is, in order to bring any semblance of equality to standards of living around the world, simply raising standards for the poor is not enough. We need to lower our own standards of living. Maybe our wealth isn’t helping us anyway. Maybe constant stimulation and entertainment is only burying an underlying discontent that’s gnawing at our souls. What is needed is an approach of simplicity and efficiency that addresses rather than medicates its pain. It’s possible to have less and be happier. Less is more. The cake is a lie.
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08.02.07
Posted in India
at 09:44
It’s hard to believe, but I’m leaving India in less than two weeks. This means that all the work I’ve been procrastinating for three months needs to get done in less than one week. Thankfully, I’m not quite as behind as I had thought before.
I am behind on blogging however! Since my last post I’ve visited Bangalore and Ooty. I’ll try to get these posts up as soon as I finish up my real work…
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07.12.07
Posted in India
at 22:43
On the way to school, I ride the city bus. The women sit up front. I try to show respect to other people on the bus, because I’m in their culture, and most of the passengers are older than me. I have to walk from the flat to a bus stop, ride the bus, then walk from another bus stop to the college.
On the way home from school, I ride the college bus. It’s full of girls. I’m the only male save for the driver and I sit up front. The other passengers show me respect because I am a “pastor” (meaning I teach a class at the Bible College) despite the fact that they are my age. This makes me uncomfortable. The bus leaves from the college and takes me directly to my flat.
P.S. I’m really pleased with the title of this post. I think Lewis Carroll would have been proud.
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Posted in India
at 22:43
So the balcony outside my room affords a good view of the front yard of our neighbors across the way. They have a dog and a guineafowl who are friends–of sorts.
The other day I saw an autorickshaw driver wandering around outside the neighbors’ front gate. Then I noticed something. Is he chasing the guineafowl? Sure enough. The man and the bird were engaged in an ultra low speed chase.
The driver, hands behind his back as he mosied about, demonstrated remarkable nonchalance for someone trying to catch an animal. But what was he going to do with it? It wasn’t his bird. The man opened the front gate, herded the bird in, and closed the gate. He must have accidentally let the poultry loose while dropping off a fare.
What he didn’t know is that the bird can get out on its own. On one occasion I watched it flap a few times, perch on the gate, and jump off, gliding to the ground outside. It regularly struts about the street–once I even saw it get shooed out of the jewelry shop next door.
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06.28.07
Posted in India
at 23:01
Since arriving in India, I’ve ridden on/in a number of vehicles: Planes, taxis, cars, scooters, motorcycles, buses, and most recently, an auto rickshaw. Prior to coming to India, I had never ridden a scooter, motorcycle, or auto rickshaw. Though I religiously wear my seatbelt and bicycle helmet in the US, and though helmet laws are on the horizon in India, I have not worn a seatbelt since arriving in India, and have only worn a helmet on one occasion. People just don’t do those things here. Autorickshaws don’t even have doors. And actually I take that back. I’ve worn seatbelts on planes in India, but not in cars.
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Posted in India
at 22:40
A really strange happening that transpired sometime last week:
Walking down the street, I saw an odd sight. A white person. He was about my age. I started to wave, then realised, Why the hell should I wave? I don’t know him! And he saw me. We kind of looked at each other, neither of us stopping or saying anything. Then we passed. Replaying the incident in my mind, I can think of all sorts of funny things to put into thought balloons above our heads. What I was actually thinking was, What are you doing here?
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