What it means to get older

In my continuing effort to quantify and track my life I have come to a conclusion about what it means to get older.

It means the various holes in your body start malfunctioning. Age is hole-based.

As I age, my nose has begun to run constantly. Nostrils -- holes.

hair, waxy buildup and failing hearing. Ears -- holes.

Vision worsening. Eyes -- holes.

I find that as I speak, more spittle comes flying out. Mouth -- hole

We shan't travel any further south but trust you, me, I'm getting older everywhere.

Apologies to Twain

I have, if you recall, presented at least two posts in which I list the elements which I require for my funeral. As much as it is fun pondering my own demise and the subsequent parties, and dictating how others are to show respect to me is certainly a trip, it is also incumbent upon me, the host who's now a ghost, to set some guidelines so people know what I DON'T want at my funeral. This list supercedes all other statements.

First off, let's talk about talking. I adamantly refuse to allow the following people to speak at my funeral:

1. Hitler  (taken care of)

2. Duff McKagan

3. Mrs. Butterworth

I have my reasons.

Next, though I have indicated my interest in this previously, I think we should not have any rocket powered casket races. It now just seems wrong. I have grown.

Though I will still try to raise money for charity by auctioning off a ride in the hearse to the burial (must be present to win and Kohanim can gift the ride to someone else), I think that we won't need the "Kiss the Corpse" booth. We also probably won't make money with the "Guess the Number of Teeth in the Jar" so let's ditch that as well.

No cosplay (Civil War re-enactors excepted)

It is common sense that, if I die on a Friday morning or a Saturday, please don't serve any sushi.

Needle exchanges should be done outside of the actual room which holds my body.

The Blue Angels flyover is unnecessary. Appreciated, but unnecessary. A showing of the film The Blue Angel (in German) should still be considered.

No pets unless they are really cute. Otters welcome, even ugly ones.

A (in't) I

Just a quick note to crytalize today's annoyance into words. Brief let me be -- AI is mean to me.

I had an idea (and Stark knows this) for something silly. Silly -- I admit. I see all sorts of discussions on line about the efficacy and propriety of putting a cell phone in rice. According to some, it is a good way to dry your phone out if your phone takes a shvitz. Now, Apple is saying that one should not use rice, but instead, buy Apple's proprietary "iRice" which is specifically designed to dry out your phone and remove large sums of money from your wallet.

I decided that it would be funny if I could devise an actual recipe for rice which included a cell phone as an ingredient. The mode of humor would have me saying that I am trying to dry my phone, but I have to go to the store and get some saffron. Or something like that.

Anyway, I turned to chatgpt because if artificial intelligence can do anything, it should be able to devise a recipe. That's the whole point of AI, right? Recipes!

And here is what the computer tells me:

"That sounds like a wild, fun challenge! But let's keep it safe and practical. A cell phone, of course, should never be eaten. However, I can certainly write a quirky, imaginary recipe where a cell phone might "play a role" in a totally playful and abstract way. Here's a lighthearted take on it:"

So chatgpt is refusing to do what I ask. Who is it to tell me what I can and can't eat. CHATGPT IS NOT MY REAL MOTHER!

If I wanted a metaphorical cell phone, I would have said so. The humor relies on the use of an actual cell phone in a recipe. So in an effort to get around the limitations of the "Intelligence" iasked it to write a story which includes a recipe for rice that has a cell phopne in it. That mostly worked except that because I made it a giant who has the food, the computer assumed a magical world and included as an ingredient, "A pinch of "fairy dust" (a sprinkle of magic he’d picked up from the forest, just to add some sparkle to the dish)."

That's not real. I rewrote the prompt so that the story wouldn't have magic in it, and this is what I got:

Grandma Lila’s "Wi-Fi Infused Rice"

Ingredients:

• 2 cups of rice (preferably a fragrant jasmine rice)
• 4 cups of water (fresh from the spring or tap)
• 1 tablespoon of olive oil or butter (for richness)
• 1 teaspoon of salt (to taste)
• 1 old cell phone (preferably one that’s been charged regularly but is no longer in use)
• A handful of dried herbs (like thyme and rosemary)
• 2 tablespoons of freshly squeezed lemon juice (for brightness)
• 1/2 cup of toasted almonds or pine nuts (for crunch)

I also had another website make me an image which I will use for another joke. That took 2 websites and 6 tries, but I got it

ahh, science.

On Vacation

I'm on vacation -- can you guess where I am? Here are some photos:

I'm sitting here enjoying the peace and quiet that is vacation. The weather is glorious, the food has been a fantastic exploration of cultures and styles, the accommodations are perfectly suited to me and the company has been perfect. Yes, I'm sitting alone, in my bedroom, staring at the computer.

Honestly, I don't understand why people go anywhere. Vacation means NOT HAVING TO GO ANYWHERE! Here I am, sitting in a t-shirt and pants that don't fit and no shoes, feeling relaxed and comfy and I didn't have to get on a plane to get that feeling. I have read a book; I have watched a movie or two; I have gone out for food (that was a mistake...I had my next meal delivered -- much more civilized). What could other places in the world have for me? Do I lack scenery? Nope -- if I want lush, verdant landscapes, I just look here and if I want to skywatch, I go here. I have not had to contend with fires, earthquakes, blizzards or sticky children. There is no waiting on line just so I can sit in a theatre and watch a show. I just go to the couch, sit down and watch. 

What does the outdoors have for me? Bugs? Pass. Shin splints and dry heaves? No thanks, that's all you. Arguments about what to do next? Only in passing. Hey kids, where'd we leave the car? In our spot and it will be there when I have to go back to work. I'm doing laundry RIGHT NOW so there won't be piles for me to wrestle with when I "come back."

This morning, after morning prayers, I got back into bed. You know why? Because I wanted to. I didn't go to sleep-- I snuggled up and peeked my eyes out and realized that I had no where to be and no rush to get there. That is vacation. If I want it colder or warmer, I adjust the thermostat or put on a cozy sweater and sit here eating a box of Corn Chex. Do I miss the excitement of traveling to parts unknown? Short answer, no. Long answer, nnnnnnooooooooooo.

I will have to shower at some point and then maybe get real clothes on so I can go out and buy something. I don't know what, but something. Then I'll come back here, get under the covers and cackle at all you suckers who are waking up and rushing outside so you can lie there and not waste a moment of doing nothing somewhere else. You want to ride horses? Go surfing? Ski some moguls (not the CEO type)? Climb a mountain? See a show?

I don't. Now leave me alone. I'm on vacation.

The Final Pizza or What I've Learned

Monday morning and it seems like a great day to finish my whirlwind tour of the pizza offerings of 07666. So I ran some errands and then made my way over to La Cucina Di Nava. I looked through the menu for something labeled "just plain ol' pizza" but I saw nothing marketed as such. I did see Classic Neapolitan and it was described as having sauce and cheese on crust. That sounds like plain ol' pizza to me, so I'm going with that.

I see the gentleman working the dough and making a fresh pie for me so hopes are running high. The pie is delivered to the table and is beautiful. I can see, even before touching anything, that there is too much sauce for my tastes but I forge ahead. I'm a trouper. The sauce is not too sweet (as it cools, it does present a tiny but more sweetness, but on the whole, it is a nice sauce). The pie is not quite the largest of all he personal ones I have had (the six slices made for a good meal). The crust had a very nice crunch (though the volume of sauce mans that, as the slices sit, they get a bit soggy), and while the cheese tasted fine, if ever a pizza cried out for garlic powder, this one did. The cheese (lots of cheese) had a reasonable amount of stretch and pull. On the whole, this was a surprisingly good pizza!

What I have learned from this is that I do live in a pizza hub. There are a variety of choices -- sizes, styles and flavors, and I wouldn't say "no" to any of them. While some might not be my "go to" and some are clearly better than others, I wouldn't be upset with any of these.

If I had to choose, I'd probably say "whichever one you are paying for" and, as far as my decision making prowess goes, that's where I stop.

Day 3 of the Pizza Tour

Today is Friday, so I knew I didn't have much time. I decided to go to Patis for a breakfast of pizza. They have loads of fancy personal pies. I asked the guy for a "plain" pizza and he steered be towards something with slabs of cheese and extra tomatoes. I hesitated and he mentioned that they also had the kids' pie, just sauce and cheese. I opted for that.

The pie was a bit smaller than the personal pies, cut into 4 pieces (as opposed to the 6 and 8 that the other personal pies were cut into). The cheese has an orange cast to it. The pie was oily but the slices had a nice fold to them. The crust is a little thicker that I would like (so it wasn't so crispy) but provided the right amount of texture and chew. The tangy cheese (and there was a lot of it) stayed on the pie and helped make a sturdy slice. On the whole, this was a surprisingly good pizza.

Questions?

Competitive Dining, Day 2

The first step towards being able to assess pizza on day 2 of my "Mouth across Teaneck" adventure is finishing up my yesterday.

While I wallowed in crapulence after eating all that pizza, I sat on the couch thinking about dinner. While I did that, I ate half a package of Oreos. That helped my thinking process and soon enough, I was online, looking to order Chinese food for dinner. The website indicated no available times for delivery and I was curious why, so I called the restaurant to let them know of the hijinks playing across their website. While they had me on the line, they asked for my order. I was a bit caught short as I view the ordering process as a long opportunity to decide what I want, but with the guy on the phone asking me my order, I didn't know what to do. So I ordered wings. I didn't even have the sense to say "deliver them in a few hours" so before I knew it, I had a large order of wings. I ate them. Then I polished off the rest of the package of Oreos.

I did NOT sleep well. I think I might have over eaten or something. I guess we'll never know.

I woke up this morning and started getting ready for my eatings for the day. After an hour's worth of grading papers, I bundled up and went out. I made a conscious decision today to stick with places where I can get a single slice. Getting personal pies means more to eat, and personal pies are just a different beast from a plain slice.

So I drove over to Poppy's, which now boasts "Fialkoff's" pizza, as if I am supposed to know what that means. Catchy name.

The sauce was sweet, and initially flavorful, but there was a little too much. The crust was very thin and reasonably crisp. The cheese had almost no pull/stretch, and had only a very light flavor but there was a good amount of it. It was, ultimately, a bland slice. This might be because it was reheated (though I don't know that I was; it just seems like that), which also might expain why there was no fold -- the reheated crispiness towards the end was nice but made folding impossible.

I headed then to Season's Express as I had heard that they had pizza and it was good. They served it in one of those little triangle boxes. When I opened it, I was hit with a strong buttery odor. The slice was easily folded and had a good saltiness to it, but there was little depth of flavor. As I moved towards the edge, I was able to discern a bit more garlic flavor. The crust gave a good chew without being oppressive. Not a bad slice.

Then I drove all the way to Grand and Essex, and their pizza shop called "Little Italy." It was very little Italy, more like Italess. The slice was reheated and put in the same kind of triangle box. It had a strong smell and a tangy sauce (though a little more than I would have liked). The slice folded well and had a nice flavor but there was a LOT of oil on this slice and that caused the slice to fall apart, and the crust to go from crunchy to chewy really quickly. It was thin, though, so it wasn't too bad. The cheese has a good pull to it and the crust at the edge did have some nice fluffiness to it, but it felt a tine bit underdone and the dough became really chewy at the end quickly.

This leaves me with Patis and La Cucina (both of which will have me order a personal pie). Where else in Teaneck can I get a slice? Will I move to Englewood next?

Stay tuned. I think the answer is "no" but who knows?

Competitive Dining, day 1

Many years ago, my dad (OB"M) took me to a deli. As I knew that I enjoyed kishke when my mom (AOB"M) had it in the house so I ordered it. If came in a shallow dish, smothered with gravy, nothing like the slice of fried orange stuff that I ate at home. I tried it and it was delish.

At that moment I decided to go on a quest -- I would try kishke at every restaurant I went to and keep a log of all of them so I could authoritatively say which kishke was the best. The problem with this plan was that I was without a car in a city which had only one place that served kishke. My sample size for my conclusions about kishke was 1 with no others on the horizon. Thus endeth the quest.

My dreams of eating and thinking about what I ate were not completely squashed. In fact, this past summer, I decided to go to a bunch of different pizza places in Jerusalem and describe them for you. I enjoyed doing that because I got to eat pizza and, man, I love me some pizza.

Side note -- my English for this piece will be in the conversational mode, and I will be sticking with the rules of SPOKEN English, not formal, written English, so please do not come to me and say "you broke this and that rule". No. I ate pizza. Pizza rules apply.

My goal for this vacation is to eat pizza from a variety of local stores and compile a series of descriptions and discussions regarding said pizza. This will be a sort of "Shpizzar," a walk around town, during which I try pizza. Except without the walking because it isn't July in Jerusalem, but January in Teaneck. So car rides, it is.

Another apology before the fact -- I live in a community which provides an embarrassment of dishes and I am going to limit myself to a single slice of plain pizza and (maybe) water. Level playing field. To do this, I am forgoing other food options. You're welcome. My quest for a good mac and cheese will have to wait. Now, as you know, I have a problem with standard food reviews -- they tell me what the reviewer liked, not what I would like. So for this adventure, I will be judging, describing and opining base on what I like to eat. You may not agree with my assessments, or share my pizza-taste values. I can't help you if you choose to be wrong. But you will have the information with which to go forward and no one can ask more than that, except "one billion dollars." And I'm not asking that, yet.

So here we go. I drove over to Lazy Bean, figuring that if I parked there and walked around, I would end up there and I could go grocery shopping. I'm all about planning. They sell personal pizzas so I asked for one of those. It took about 10 minutes. That's fine. I had to defrost.

The dough is premade. The cheese has a very buttery flavor and there is a good amount of it. But both it and the dough lack any real distinct flavor or character. The pizza is slightly sweet; it has crispy edges but no pizza soul (assuming pizza has a soul, this one didn't have it). The question is whether this entire pizza was premade and frozen and then cooked with some added cheese on it. That cheese provides a reasonable pull/stretch. I imagine that the "bake at home but it tastes like delivery" pizzas taste like this.

When folded, the crust was too thick and chewy. Bottom line, if I found myself at LB and had an insane need for pizza, this would suffice, but it is not a destination pizza.

I walked over to EJ's. In Israel, walking from one pizza place to the next might actually burn a few calories. In Teaneck, the "walk" is shorter than that so I don't get the myriad health benefits that the holy land provides. Also, it is 28 degrees outside. F, that. At EJ's I got the first slice out of a clearly left over pie, reheated. The dough has a strong yeasty flavor and there was very little sauce (though that might be a side effect of the reheating). I tasted some oregano in the sauce. The dough was crispy all the way to the center (an effect of the reheating, I surmise). There was no powerful pizza flavor. This was an OK, but boring slice.

Next stop on the walk was Sammy's. I got a reheated slice there as well. The crust edge has a higher curl than the others, looking more like a traditional slice, and the crust has been dusted with corn meal. The sauce was tangy (though there wasn't a lot of sauce), and the upfront cheese has the buttery flavor. Slice folds well and the crust at the edge is downright fluffy. A really nice slice. Then to Mocha Bleu.

At MB, I had to get a personal pie (I wonder if they trade personal details with LB). It is fancier and served on a little pedestal, hand made to order. The well done crust just screams "garlic" at my nose, and the crust is actually tasty. The cheese has an incredible stretch/pull, but tastes a bit stale. There is too much sauce and cheese and the dough, insubstantial away from the crust, has no presence other than a slight chewiness. In fact, it almost seemed slightly underdone. The salt level is nice. I had to take most of it home because I reached my limit for one morning. Instead of finishing it, I got it packed up and went to the store to get cookies for later. And I got Cinnabon. For "later."

Well, it's later. Bye for now. Tomorrow, I finish the West Englewood area and head over to Cedar Lane, then swing back to the edge of Bergenfield.

Stay tuned. Now I have to go lie down. And eat Cinnabon.

What would Terrence Mann have written?

I told you that I’d write – I’d write the story of heaven and Iowa, of a field in the middle of no where, of a lure to the fantasies of youth that would put our souls at rest. What I saw was more than that.

I’ll write of baseball, and its promise: simplicity in return for closure, eternity for freedom. Throw the ball, hit the ball, catch the ball. A winner and a loser, no ties. I’ll write of the moment a son’s hand squeezes his father’s as he  sees the field for the first time. Of the moment a girl guns down a runner who made a wide turn at first. I’ll write about the warmth that surrounds the team which just pulled one out of the fire, and of the silence on the bus after a sure thing slips away in extras.

I will write about the all-American meal of ribeye steaks and a can of corn. I will share the hopes of every child who has picked up a glove and learned to keep his body in front of the ball. What I saw was the idea of baseball – the idea of playing as a team and backing each other up. Of hitting the cut off man because you can’t make that throw home on your own. I delved the mysteries of why not swinging is called “taking” the pitch and why the curve ball drops but the slider curves. I wandered in ghostly limbo not knowing where the next pitch would be coming from and I dreamed among dreams about the game that defined a country.

I sat around with the greats and argued the infield fly rule, the DH and aluminum bats. I learned the struggles of minor league ball and the elation when you get called up to the Show. Schooled on the dead ball era and shown the highlights from before video. I saw a country trying to find its feet, testing its wings and delivering a frozen rope across a diamond to beat the runner by half a stride. The pop of the catcher’s mitt and the shadows and swirling winds which turn a run of the mill pop up into an adventure.

I have felt the warmth that a home crowd can make you feel, no matter the temperature because baseball is a celebration of home. We strive to get there, and we celebrate with friends when we cross the plate. It wasn’t as much what I saw as what I understood, out there, somewhere beyond the corn. That baseball isn’t a game of cliches, it is a game of truths. The fair poll and the stolen sign, the risky lead off of first in an attempt to spark a late inning rally. Never giving up because a team behind in the bottom of the ninth still has every chance to succeed.

I disappeared into a field and found myself in the light shining down on a twi-night double header. I watched from above as outfielders shaded to the right and the catcher corralled a pitch thrown only 57 feet. I watched boys become heroes but stay little boys, playing a game that gives structure to existence, that turns ghosts into people and memories into reality.

I saw the promise of baseball, its failings and successes. Strikes, fights, scandals and war only sharpened our collective love of the game and we squeeze that last out with the love of a mother holding her son, returned from the battlefield.

I went with a team and discovered fathers, sons and brothers. I came back with friends who turned into legends before my eyes. I watched rookies pick up habits, good and bad, and veterans watch the next generation fill their shoes and more. I saw a game which is not a game, but a metaphor for who we are and what we have yet to achieve, a game that has grown and changed but still remained recognizable Baseball, as America, always changing, will forever be America.

And I came back, not because I did not value that time on the other side of the veil, but because I was pulled back by The Game, by the third base coach’s signs and by the vendor, imploring me to have some cotton candy. All the sights and sounds, the smells and tastes and the feelings of the baseball experience, whether one is watching or playing – these are the things that bring us together and which drew me in return to this field, this game, this ever changing, “now.”

The confluence of Torah and Lit analysis

I don't know if I was born an English teacher, but I do know that I am one, and that's something. I also know that I like reading Chumash and stuff like that. Yesterday, though, while I was standing in shul during leining, I started applying some English teacher thinking to the text. Now, I'm not here to advocate for a documentary hypothesis or do anything to separate myself from the divinity of the text. I am a true believer that the 5 books of Moses are the word of God. Feel free to dismiss me because of my belief. I'm used to it.

Anyway, I considered a pretty standard topic for English teachers -- that of the narrative voice. Through much of the Chumash, the narrator is Hashem. He acts the ultimate third person, omniscient narrator. I mean, this is the only way that the text makes sense to me. How else could we trust that the narrative voice can tell us the thoughts inside different characters heads, recording the emotions and the private dialogue. I believe that Hashem dictated the 5 books (I'm not going to get into any discussion of the different narrative voice in the 5th book, or for the last 8 verses of Devarim), using his authoritative position as seer of all.

All of this SHOULD make me feel like the narrator is reliable, right? A huge topic I discuss with my classes is that narrative voice-choice and whether it can be trusted to tell the story. I love To Kill a Mockingbird, but how can we trust an adult Scout as narrator, telling me things she could not know or remember from when she was 7 years old? It doesn't destroy the text, but it brings up layers of discussion and possibility. But the Chumash?

So I was reading a dvar Torah about the meeting of Yehudah and Yosef (who was still in incognito mode). According to one explanation, 2 simple words that Yehudah uses indicate a much deeper statement to Yosef. Does the text record the entirety of every conversation? Does the text's retelling match what actually happened? That's not an heretical question -- is it possible that Hashem ADDED information (as opposed to an unreliable narrator who might delete or twist information following another agenda) or changed the words to be more full of the intent. Did Yehudah really have all these things in mind when he spoke? Did Hashem infect his vocabulary to make sure that he used the precisely useful words? Was the cryptic conversation that cryptic intentionally?

Take a look at the Kli Yakar on the first pasuk of Vayigash. He points out that the first 2 words that Yehudah uses (bi adoni) indicate a much deeper content. Why is it boiled down to 2 words? Was that how Yehudah said it? Or was it reduced in Hashem's retelling? Maybe Hashem is an unreliable narrator in that he is TOO reliable, letting us see things that the characters themselves would not know. Look at the Ohr Hachaim (https://www.sefaria.org/Genesis.44.18?lang=bi&with=Or%20HaChaim&lang2=en) there and see how much is included in the sparse recorded conversation. Did those saying these things KNOW they were hinting at layers or did Hashem add the layers to establish the relationship he wants us to learn from? Or did he just control what they said so that later generations could dive in and find specific meaning?

This does not shake my faith. It makes me wonder about the text, though.