Thanksgiving is too often about “The Meal;” Christmas about “The Gifts.” I try to start each day with a grateful heart, and at this time of the year I especially reflect on my greatest blessings.
I’m so thankful for my beautiful soul mate Cynthia. After all these years my heart still sings when I hear her voice, my eyes light up when she enters the room. I’ve given up trying to put into words the indescribable depth of my adoration. Our love is a precious gift that will forever be treasured.
“Expectation” is a poor choice of words regarding one’s kids, but hopefulness is a feeling probably all parents share. So what a joy it has been to nurture two wonderful children and then watch them become such marvelous young adults. I have many things I still want to accomplish, but if none of them happens I will still have had a happy and successful life because of the privilege of helping bring Brandon and Adrian into this world.
I have so much appreciation for my great friends and relatives. We have shared terrific experiences and memories, and we’re comforted to know that we are always there for each other, no matter what.
Overall I’m thankful for the remarkable opportunity to simply live my life---to observe, learn, laugh, cry, do well, goof up---and from it all be the best “me” I can and hopefully leave the planet a little better than I found it.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Thursday, November 20, 2008
BANANA-WALNUT CHOCOLATE CHUNK COOKIES
Is there such a thing as a "healthy" cookie that tastes fantastic? Try this recipe and judge for yourself!
INGREDIENTS
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup whole-wheat flour
1 tsp. coarse salt
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1 1/2 sticks unsalted butter, softened
1/2 c. sugar
1/2 c. packed light brown sugar
1 egg
1 1/2 tsp. vanilla extract
1 mashed ripe banana
1 c. old-fashioned rolled oats
8 oz. semisweet chocolate coarsely chopped
1/2 c. coarsely chopped walnuts, toasted
DIRECTIONS
1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Whisk together flours, salt, & baking soda in a small bowl & set aside. Mix butter & sugars with electric mixer on medium speed until pale & fluffy. Reduce speed to low, add egg & vanilla, mix until combined. Mix in banana. Add flour mixture, mix until just combined. Stir in oats, chocolate, & walnuts.
2. Drop 1 1/2 inch balls of dough onto baking sheets lined with parchment paper, spacing about 2 inches apart. Bake cookies, rotating pan halfway through, until golden brown & just set, about 12 minutes. Let sheets cool on wire racks for 5 minutes, then transfer cookies to wire racks & cool completely.
3. Pour a big glass of milk & try not to eat too many!!!!
INGREDIENTS
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup whole-wheat flour
1 tsp. coarse salt
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1 1/2 sticks unsalted butter, softened
1/2 c. sugar
1/2 c. packed light brown sugar
1 egg
1 1/2 tsp. vanilla extract
1 mashed ripe banana
1 c. old-fashioned rolled oats
8 oz. semisweet chocolate coarsely chopped
1/2 c. coarsely chopped walnuts, toasted
DIRECTIONS
1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Whisk together flours, salt, & baking soda in a small bowl & set aside. Mix butter & sugars with electric mixer on medium speed until pale & fluffy. Reduce speed to low, add egg & vanilla, mix until combined. Mix in banana. Add flour mixture, mix until just combined. Stir in oats, chocolate, & walnuts.
2. Drop 1 1/2 inch balls of dough onto baking sheets lined with parchment paper, spacing about 2 inches apart. Bake cookies, rotating pan halfway through, until golden brown & just set, about 12 minutes. Let sheets cool on wire racks for 5 minutes, then transfer cookies to wire racks & cool completely.
3. Pour a big glass of milk & try not to eat too many!!!!
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
THE LAS VEGAS STRIP IS PARADISE---REALLY!
Ever wonder why The Strip is called "The Strip?" Probably not, but I'm going to tell you anyway. Back in the '30's a totally corrupt LAPD cop named Guy McAfee was forced to resign because of his ties to organized crime. He moved to Las Vegas and bought a little club called The Pair-O-Dice (cute).
Because of his Mob connections he was able to grow his business to the point that he built The Golden Nugget, then the largest casino in Vegas. As the gambling business started to spread down Highway 91 (at that time known as Arrowhead Highway) City of LV leaders saw the tax opportunities and decided to annex the land.
McAfee and his fellow casino operators sidestepped their plan by forming an unincorporated township called Paradise (named after his 1st club) as a tax shelter that could not be annexed. He called the 4 mile stretch of highway "the Strip" after the Sunset Strip in LA and the name stuck.
So when you're walking down Las Vegas Boulevard admiring the fountains at Bellagio or the canals at Venice you're really not in Las Vegas at all----you're in Paradise!!
Because of his Mob connections he was able to grow his business to the point that he built The Golden Nugget, then the largest casino in Vegas. As the gambling business started to spread down Highway 91 (at that time known as Arrowhead Highway) City of LV leaders saw the tax opportunities and decided to annex the land.
McAfee and his fellow casino operators sidestepped their plan by forming an unincorporated township called Paradise (named after his 1st club) as a tax shelter that could not be annexed. He called the 4 mile stretch of highway "the Strip" after the Sunset Strip in LA and the name stuck.
So when you're walking down Las Vegas Boulevard admiring the fountains at Bellagio or the canals at Venice you're really not in Las Vegas at all----you're in Paradise!!
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
"NOTCOM"-MUNICATION
Well, it had to happen sooner or later, I guess. I’ve managed to overlook the wrinkles; the morning stiffness—hey, must have worked too hard at the gym. I’ve even pooh-poohed the occasional moments of forgetfulness. But I increasingly notice a fundamental difference between me and “young people” that brings me face-to-face with the reality that, yes, I’m getting older.
The distinction has nothing to do with smooth skin or lively spirit. I just find it amusing?sad?bewildered? that kids appear to need to be “connected” every waking moment. For instance, the ever-present Ipod. What’s wrong with hearing the sounds of your own life, at least once in awhile? I actually enjoy the thoughts that go on between my ears. Nature abhors a vacuum; maybe piping in music constantly is an attempt to fill an empty cranium.
And this texting business is WAY out of control. I watch kids thumbing away in restaurants, concerts, and movies. Is whatever it is you’re “talking” about that urgent? I’m looking at you—trust me, ANYTHING you’ve got to say is of no urgency or important whatsoever, ever.
Facebook, YouTube, IM-------. I just don’t get it. Whatever happened to the old-fashioned notion of actually having a face-to-face conversation with another live human being?
The creepy thing is this all seems so Matrix-like—being plugged in and bombarded with constant external, artificial stimuli. I’m happy to be a purposely disconnected member of “notcom” nation.
The distinction has nothing to do with smooth skin or lively spirit. I just find it amusing?sad?bewildered? that kids appear to need to be “connected” every waking moment. For instance, the ever-present Ipod. What’s wrong with hearing the sounds of your own life, at least once in awhile? I actually enjoy the thoughts that go on between my ears. Nature abhors a vacuum; maybe piping in music constantly is an attempt to fill an empty cranium.
And this texting business is WAY out of control. I watch kids thumbing away in restaurants, concerts, and movies. Is whatever it is you’re “talking” about that urgent? I’m looking at you—trust me, ANYTHING you’ve got to say is of no urgency or important whatsoever, ever.
Facebook, YouTube, IM-------. I just don’t get it. Whatever happened to the old-fashioned notion of actually having a face-to-face conversation with another live human being?
The creepy thing is this all seems so Matrix-like—being plugged in and bombarded with constant external, artificial stimuli. I’m happy to be a purposely disconnected member of “notcom” nation.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
"THEY DO WEIRD TESTS AROUND HERE"
Cynthia had a health crisis last Wednesday that necessitated admission to a local hospital. The good news is everything's going to be fine. Because of the suddenness of her arrival no beds were immediately available so we had to begin the process in ER.
Real life ER sure wasn't much like the TV shows. For starters the cast, er, the employees, weren't cute; they were dumpy-looking and unattractive. Cynthia was waiting for McDreamy to walk in. Instead she got McDorky.
The doc wandered in looking at her chart and mumbling to himself. She asked him his name. He replied, "They do all kinds of weird tests around here." Dude obviously was a low performer in his "Bedside Manner Skills" course in med school. Dr. ? completed his cameo appearance muttering something else about weird tests and exited, never to be seen again.
I could have sworn dinosaurs were extinct, but a Snore-asaurus had apparently been captured and was being contained right on the other side of the curtain. Its frightening roar almost shook the walls. Actually it was an obese guy from Australia asleep in the next bed.
A nurse came in and told him to roll over. We heard her say, "Now if this turns blue there's blood in your stool. O-o-o-h-h-h----it's really turning blue!" Yikes.
Next to him was a zonked-out teenager in a school uniform sitting in a wheelchair and----staring. Her mom said something about overdosing on Benedryl. In the hall was a guy on a gurney who would occasionally sit up, hit on a passing nurse, then lie back down.
Geez, where was the team of shouting doctors running with a gurney carrying a shotgun blast victim? The maniacal patient that had to be physically restrained? The dramatic music?? These patients were so lame!!
Finally Cynthia's room was ready. At last, some peace and quiet. Um, except for her 84 year old roommate, who kept telling us shedidn'tknowwhyshewastheretheyhadn'tfedheranythingalldayshehopedhercarbatterywasn'tgoingtogodeadshedidn'twantherdaughter toknowshewasinthehospital-----
(Sigh)
Real life ER sure wasn't much like the TV shows. For starters the cast, er, the employees, weren't cute; they were dumpy-looking and unattractive. Cynthia was waiting for McDreamy to walk in. Instead she got McDorky.
The doc wandered in looking at her chart and mumbling to himself. She asked him his name. He replied, "They do all kinds of weird tests around here." Dude obviously was a low performer in his "Bedside Manner Skills" course in med school. Dr. ? completed his cameo appearance muttering something else about weird tests and exited, never to be seen again.
I could have sworn dinosaurs were extinct, but a Snore-asaurus had apparently been captured and was being contained right on the other side of the curtain. Its frightening roar almost shook the walls. Actually it was an obese guy from Australia asleep in the next bed.
A nurse came in and told him to roll over. We heard her say, "Now if this turns blue there's blood in your stool. O-o-o-h-h-h----it's really turning blue!" Yikes.
Next to him was a zonked-out teenager in a school uniform sitting in a wheelchair and----staring. Her mom said something about overdosing on Benedryl. In the hall was a guy on a gurney who would occasionally sit up, hit on a passing nurse, then lie back down.
Geez, where was the team of shouting doctors running with a gurney carrying a shotgun blast victim? The maniacal patient that had to be physically restrained? The dramatic music?? These patients were so lame!!
Finally Cynthia's room was ready. At last, some peace and quiet. Um, except for her 84 year old roommate, who kept telling us shedidn'tknowwhyshewastheretheyhadn'tfedheranythingalldayshehopedhercarbatterywasn'tgoingtogodeadshedidn'twantherdaughter toknowshewasinthehospital-----
(Sigh)
Saturday, October 18, 2008
THE YOGA NAZI
Friday night in Vegas. Most folks are having a few drinks, grabbing some dinner, maybe playing the slots. What are we doing? Going to yoga class. Do the Staton's know how to party, or what?
Actually this was the first time we'd attended on Friday night, but our off days changed last week and we've kind of been out of kilter adjusting (btw, apologies for no post last week---when your "Monday" is now Thursday, trust me, it's a bit screwy). So we didn't know who the teacher was supposed to be, but Susie announced herself as a substitute for tonight. With a German accent.
Uh, oh. Here's a shoutout to you, Adrian--you can already guess where this is going. She immediately started to say stuff like "punishment" and "doing crocodiles." We didn't even know what that second one was but the mental image wasn't particularly attractive. It turns out they're the yoga equivalent of pushups. I'm not a big fan of the treadmill, yet I found myself thinking that an hour of that might be paradise compared to what Susie had in store.
As it turned out she was just screwing with us. She led a very pleasant class and was funny as hell. Maybe she is a ball-buster with her regular students though because she said they called her "The Yoga Nazi"---among other things. She constantly threatened us if we were "sloppy," "lazy," or worst of all, "cheating," but only in jest.
When we were doing a Cobra pose she claimed that among other things it was good for your gall bladder. Then she paused and said, "Wow, I had my gall bladder removed two months ago tomorrow. Guess I didn't do enough Cobras!" Here we were trying to be serious and collapsing on the floor with laughter instead.
Later we were doing a pose requiring you to tightly clench your butt cheeks (as I'm writing I realize that if you aren't familiar with yoga postures this all sounds pretty bizarre. Anyway---). She told us to envision having a quarter in our crack and squeezing it hard enough make an imprint (now it's getting kinky--this post isn't going to gain many yoga converts, I'm afraid). Then she warned, "I'll be sending the imprint inspector around at the end of class to check your quarters!," and once again we all "cracked" up.
At the end you always do a guided meditation while lying on the floor with your eyes closed. Susie suggested imagining something blue because that's the color of relaxation. Living here I immediately thought of those Blue Man Group dudes but that didn't seem right. Then I thought of the friggin' Smurfs of all things. The Smurfs?? The Smurfs?? Holy cow, how about a damn sky with a palm tree in front of it! I'M NOT FEELING TOO RELAXED HERE!!!
You know, Susie said she had been teaching yoga here in Vegas for 12 years and I'm guessing she didn't get right off the plane from Germany back then and hustle to her first class. Total command of the language but she's still got that heavy accent. Then I was thinking about Ah-nold--same thing. What is it with these Teutonic folks? And does that voice in their head have an accent too? How about when they dream? H-m-m-m-m--------
Actually this was the first time we'd attended on Friday night, but our off days changed last week and we've kind of been out of kilter adjusting (btw, apologies for no post last week---when your "Monday" is now Thursday, trust me, it's a bit screwy). So we didn't know who the teacher was supposed to be, but Susie announced herself as a substitute for tonight. With a German accent.
Uh, oh. Here's a shoutout to you, Adrian--you can already guess where this is going. She immediately started to say stuff like "punishment" and "doing crocodiles." We didn't even know what that second one was but the mental image wasn't particularly attractive. It turns out they're the yoga equivalent of pushups. I'm not a big fan of the treadmill, yet I found myself thinking that an hour of that might be paradise compared to what Susie had in store.
As it turned out she was just screwing with us. She led a very pleasant class and was funny as hell. Maybe she is a ball-buster with her regular students though because she said they called her "The Yoga Nazi"---among other things. She constantly threatened us if we were "sloppy," "lazy," or worst of all, "cheating," but only in jest.
When we were doing a Cobra pose she claimed that among other things it was good for your gall bladder. Then she paused and said, "Wow, I had my gall bladder removed two months ago tomorrow. Guess I didn't do enough Cobras!" Here we were trying to be serious and collapsing on the floor with laughter instead.
Later we were doing a pose requiring you to tightly clench your butt cheeks (as I'm writing I realize that if you aren't familiar with yoga postures this all sounds pretty bizarre. Anyway---). She told us to envision having a quarter in our crack and squeezing it hard enough make an imprint (now it's getting kinky--this post isn't going to gain many yoga converts, I'm afraid). Then she warned, "I'll be sending the imprint inspector around at the end of class to check your quarters!," and once again we all "cracked" up.
At the end you always do a guided meditation while lying on the floor with your eyes closed. Susie suggested imagining something blue because that's the color of relaxation. Living here I immediately thought of those Blue Man Group dudes but that didn't seem right. Then I thought of the friggin' Smurfs of all things. The Smurfs?? The Smurfs?? Holy cow, how about a damn sky with a palm tree in front of it! I'M NOT FEELING TOO RELAXED HERE!!!
You know, Susie said she had been teaching yoga here in Vegas for 12 years and I'm guessing she didn't get right off the plane from Germany back then and hustle to her first class. Total command of the language but she's still got that heavy accent. Then I was thinking about Ah-nold--same thing. What is it with these Teutonic folks? And does that voice in their head have an accent too? How about when they dream? H-m-m-m-m--------
Sunday, October 5, 2008
GRILLED CAESAR SALAD?? BELIEVE IT!!
I tried this recipe with great trepidation but it has become a favorite in the Staton household (we had it just last night in fact). Easy & excellent. You'll love it!!
2 servings
1 heart of romaine, sliced lengthwise
1/8 cup of mayonnaise
1/8 cup red wine vinegar
2 garlic cloves
1/2 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1/4 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
dash of Tabasco
1/4 cup vegetable oil
salt and fresh ground pepper
shaved Parmesan cheese
Light a grill. In a mini food processor blend all the ingredients except the oil. Then gradually add oil until the dressing is creamy.
Brush the hearts of romaine with oil and place on grill, flat side down. Turn once or twice until lightly charred but still crisp--about 3 minutes.
Spread half the dressing across salad plates. Arrange the grilled hearts of romaine on top and drizzle with the remaining dressing. Garnish with cheese shavings.
2 servings
1 heart of romaine, sliced lengthwise
1/8 cup of mayonnaise
1/8 cup red wine vinegar
2 garlic cloves
1/2 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1/4 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
dash of Tabasco
1/4 cup vegetable oil
salt and fresh ground pepper
shaved Parmesan cheese
Light a grill. In a mini food processor blend all the ingredients except the oil. Then gradually add oil until the dressing is creamy.
Brush the hearts of romaine with oil and place on grill, flat side down. Turn once or twice until lightly charred but still crisp--about 3 minutes.
Spread half the dressing across salad plates. Arrange the grilled hearts of romaine on top and drizzle with the remaining dressing. Garnish with cheese shavings.
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