Neanderpundit

I’m working in a plant full of heat treating equipment- there is fire everywhere, columns of flame a foot in diameter and nine feet high, ovens apable of heat treating parts that weigh a half a ton. Flames everywhere, al the time. An employee of the company confided in me his deep fear of fire, and I can understand.

I myself have more than my share of fears- and bear in mind, fear and cowardice are two separate things- I have fallen enough times from substantial heights that I can no longer tolerate height. Oh, working on ladders, etc. don’t bug me, but hanging off the side of a balcony? not above two stories. Fire, on the other hand, doesn’t bother me because I understand it, and have been exposed to it intimately.

When I took my apprenticeship, I regularly stood directly in the path of flame, and walked through flames to get from one place to another. It became commonplace. We had to wear flame suits, of course, which offered quite a bit of protection. We also learned about not wearing synthetics, about cotton, about flame retardants in our green suits. You had to be careful, but you didn’t have to be paranoid. I remember standing in front of a furnace with enough radiant heat to melt the glasses on my face. You had to keep clean shaved, no sideburns, short hair; perspiration would protect your skin for a brief time but hair would catch fire immediately. To this day the hair on the backs of my hands and wrists grows sparsely and in patches.

Some fear can be overcome. Sometimes the process of overcoming the fear is worse than just dealing with the fear. Those fears are unreasoning and hard to deal with, and most people I know who fight them, prefer to leave them alone, like a patch of bad shingles on your garage roof- you know they’re there, but you hope not to have to confront them.

Some fear is uncontrollable. I fear most, having loved ones in jeapordy, and being unable to ring them back to safety. Especially I fear disease, because I mistrust the medical profession so intensely.

A man whose sandals I am unfit to loosen is in that situation this moment. He will be in the most hazard tomorrow, friday. Keep him in your prayers and thoughts as you go about your day- and by prayers, I don’t mean get on your knees and talk to the Big Guy,(though that never hurts) but live tomorrow as if you meant it. Try to live each moment as if the Creator was observing you for your innate Christianity. Make him proud. That’s the kind of prayer my friend needs, people being better Christians in general, it will do the most good.

Moxie is talking about marriage and values, and the whys and wherefores. Steve has also opined on the difficulties of finding a date.

Fact is, there’s a whole lot of truth in what they say. I have been in some relationships that were- shall we say, less than optimal. And I was patient. Patience is a big deal here.

You don’t get to your thirties without some baggage, you don’t get anywhere near there without getting hurt or hurting someone. Nature of the beast.

On the other hand, when it hits, and it hits right, it makes every moment of the wait worthwhile. The Ogwife is the absolute love of my life. She’s an absolutely wonderful human and a great mother, and I have no idea what I ever did to deserve her. No, it’s not the kind of thing you expect to ever happen to you. yes, it’s a bit of a shock when it does. I had to go to Canada to find the perfect woman for me, and I imagine that the perfect person for you might be half a world away, and you have no idea how to go about looking for them. I got lucky. I feel for those who don’t.

No, this is not a post about Alton brown. Actually, I think Steve H probably can cook as well as Alton, if not maybe better. I know I can.
Actually, I’m talking about eating on the road- prompted by this post by Kim Du Toit.

I have been more or less living on the road for twenty years. I have had a bucketload of fast food- in fact, a lot of it is part of the reason for my swelling midsection. I have decided if I must eat another burger of any description I will scream.

Now, I don’t mean homemade burgers, but I make ’em good. I mean any chain food- including applebees, chilis, etc.

I want to eat at a restaurant that serves food. Not someplace that microwaves single serving pseudomeals.

Last couple weeks I’ve been staying in a suite with a kitchenette, and this week some damned trade show is in town so I can’t. Tonight I dug around until I found a little restaurant in a strip mall. A place where you can see the kitchen from almost every table. A place that has no microwave.

I ordered the Veal Marsala. It lacked toasted pine nuts of being absolutely perfect. it came with a fine salad and some fresh (still warm, in fact) bread. THis place is only open for dinner. I will be back.

Food- real food, I mean, should be cooked. THe ingredients should be fresh. The cooks should taste it. The staff should eat there. The owner should care how his food tastes. The customers should want to come back.

Consider yourself lucky if there are two restaruants in your town that are like this.

When Kim and Connie were gracious enough to stop by Chez Og on their trip back from Michigan last summer, I took them to Tiebels for lunch.

Tielbels has been a fixture of the town forever. I didn’t take the Du Toits there because I wanted to take them someplace elegant, I wanted to have them eat a good meal. They certainly made it seem like they enjoyed it- though they are far too gracious hosts and guests to say otherwise.

What decent restaurants are in your area? let me know, you never know when I might show up there.