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The Truth About Crust, or Food Lies My Mother Told Me

Well I questioned my mother last week about why she always urged me to eat the crust of bread or pizza--"because it's good for you/it's the best part."

Me: "Mom, when I was a kid--why did you tell me that the crust was the healthiest part of the sandwich?"

Mom: "I'm not sure."

Me: "Because it can't be. The crust is made up of the same ingredients as the rest of the bread--it's darker because it's on the outside and exposed to more heat, so it browns."

Mom: "I don't know why I told you that."

Dad: "We were probably just trying to get you to eat it."

Mom: "We wanted you to eat your food. It's just one of those things you tell your kids to get them to eat."

Mystery solved! Now what kinds of food-lies do I tell my children? Hmm.

My Thanks to Stephen King

Continually defending myself as a book-listening reader, I was pleased to see a great new article on the subject from author Stephen King. King trumpets the significance, the pleasure, and the credibility of audio books. And I agree with his brilliant assessment. There is nothing like being taken away by a great reader such as Simon Prebble.

As a book-lover, and one who is almost intoxicated by the written word--I fully embrace the printed page and even sniff the parchment as I crack open my books. I fully acknowledge that over half the books I read each year are audio books--but I'm in my car over 10 hours a week, aren't I just making the best of my time by improving my mind, limbering up my synapses, and sharpening my vocabulary?

Squirrel Surprise

While running through a park just above River Street in Savannah, Marshall almost stepped on a dead squirrel's head. I saw where he was running and it looked like a gray root sticking out of the ground. He ran toward it and as his foot came down he realized it was a squirrel he was about to step on. He quickly hopscotched his feet around the carcass, and didn't touch a hair of the gray squirrel--I guess he's just a natural athlete!

I thought these anchors were pretty cool--they were lying around in that park too, perhaps the squirrel was impaled on one of them.

My So-Called Grace and Class

It's a good thing for me that the carry-out fountain drink and the plastic screw-top bottle were invented.

Yesterday while touring Savannah, Georgia with the family, we stopped into River Street Sweets Candy Store for a treat. Paula spotted some Cokes in glass bottles and grabbed one for each of us. She touted to the kids how much better Coke tastes in glass.

After we made our purchases, I went over to the doorway of the store to pop open the bottle tops, and well, the bottle opener just wasn't what it used to be and I had a very difficult time getting the hook to catch on the cap. Finally, on my third or fourth try, I wrenched the cap off and brown, sugary confection splashed up and in my face and down my shirt. Nice--tourist makes a fool of himself in southern genteel capital.

I'm Not Sure Super-Powers Are Really For Me

There are several possibilities available when selecting a super power for one's self. This post is my contribution to the study--perhaps if you can see my motivations, it could help you to choose your own. Afterall, heroes and super heroes are popping up everywhere these days.

But come to think of it, unless you're a mad scientist whose had his funding pulled and you turn your dangerous project on yourself in a last ditch effort to salvage your work--then you really don't get to pick your power, it gets chosen for you by birth, or accident.

But let's say that you did have a choice--what would you choose?

Now this is just me, but I think shape-shifting would create a disconnect and discontentment with my true self. I think it would be hard to keep your bearings as you change appearances. It might even alter your identity in the process. This is not for me.

And other then self-defense, I'd have no need for shooting rays, unless I wanted to fight crime, which I don't.

Invincibility would be nice, but it's kind of boring unless you're involved in a lot of fights or reckless behavior and are often about to die or actually do die. Not my cup of tea, so I would only need this power as I got old. But who wants to sit on a power that long?

Psychic powers would be cool! Mind control of others and the ability to read people's minds would be great fun. But after a month or 45 days, it might become overwhelming and disconcerting. I don't know if I'd like to know what everyone thinks of me, really. They probably think I'm a nice guy inside their heads, but maybe they think I'm boring and they just laugh at my stories to be nice. Or maybe they're actually thinking about something else while I'm talking? And what if I can't focus on telling my story because their thoughts are distracting me? Then I'd have to use mind control to get them to pay attention! This would mean that their reactions to me would be fake and controlled by me. And what's worse, knowing that someone is being fake, or being fooled because they're humoring you? I'd rather be humored by a good faker than know that I'm being faked--especially because of mind-control. So I might as well stay as I am.

Magnetic powers like Magneto would be good for "world domination," but so many things are made out of plastic these days so I wonder if magnetic powers would only get you "continent domination" at this point. And there's always so much anger and aggression in the faces of those who use this power, I'd think you'd get headaches a lot. No thanks.

Sing to the Mice

Upon hearing the news that his gerbil had died Marshall exclaimed, "Let's get him in the ground and he can sing to the mice!"

About a month ago, 7-year-old Madison greeted me excitedly with: "Guess how far I can burp my 'A-B-C's!' ...To 'C!' Burrr-Aaa!! Did you hear that? It's hard..." Me: "Keep working on it, honey."

Several months ago one of our 3-year-old twins didn't have her Bear at bedtime (the stuffed animal she's slept with every night since she was a baby). Me: "Emma, where's Bear?" Emma: "Bear doesn't like me. I gave him to Cooper." Me: "Bear loves you very much and needs you to help him get to sleep at night. Where is he, honey?" Emma: "Bear and I play hide and seek and now he's lost." Then I found one of her look-alike bears, but she sniffed it and said, "That's not Bear." Me: "You can tell by smell?" Emma: "No. I mean, yeah."

Eat Your Crust--It's Good For You!

Does anyone else remember their mother saying to them as a child, "Eat your crust--it's good for you?"

Whether it was the back end of a pizza slice or the border around my sandwich, I was always implored that the crust was the most nutrious and essential part. And that if I didn't eat it, I was doing a great disservice to my body. This understanding has stuck with me through adulthood, and whenever I trim the crust from one of my children's sandwiches or buy crustless bread for them, I die a little inside, thinking of the detriment I am doing to them.

Perhaps I should grind the crust up into their fruit punch? I think before sadly throwing it away.

Hot Tip: A Commonwealth of Thieves

I just read about a new book by Thomas Keneally--the author of Schindler's List. It's called, A Commonwealth of Thieves: The Improbable Birth of Australia, and it sounds fascinating.

We've all heard the legend--that Australia was populated by criminal rejects from Britian--well this is the true story of what happened to those people, the isolation that they felt, and how they put hope in the future.

But the subject does make me wonder about every Australian I've ever known--is there such a thing as a thief-gene?

Rest in Peace, Little Friend

Sammy the Gerbil is dead. I am in shock. Remember, this is the rodent who survived an eye-gouging by our cat, being crunched underfoot by me, a coma, the self-amputation of his rear leg, the yellowing of his fur, and a sudsy bath (animal experts have laughed at such a suggestion). He was thriving despite these things, and had recovered both emotionally and physically from all of these challenges to have full mobility and a great caged-life. But my wife called me this evening to tell me the very sad news, and I spiralled. A slow-motion montage of the key events from his life spun through my mind like an iPhoto slide show set to music.

Sammy was one of Marshall's birthday presents last year. He got him a few weeks early--simply by happenstance. We were at a pet store and I was enduring one of my wife's legendary pouts for a puppy, when I tried to distract her with a rodent. I noticed a white gerbil feverishly digging at the glass of his aquarium and I remarked how much he looked like Marshall. Instantly, both boy and mom fell in love with the little thing, and a few minutes later I found myself ringing up $70 worth of gerbil merchandise at the check-out counter.

Marshall's birthday is tomorrow--and his gerbil friend lived just one day short of seeing his master turn six. He would have wanted to be here for this day, but instead, it will be his burial day.

Farewell "Friend"

We've been saying goodbye to a lot of our friends at the office lately. One such gentleman worked in our mailroom where he kept a little paper clock to mark his comings and his goings. For the past couple months I passed this clock everyday, but never realized that he actually used it in this way--I assumed that the positions of the hands on the clock were random.

That is, until the day after his departure when one of us noticed the sad symbol you see on the right. In his exacting effort to silently notify us of his activities, he covered the hands of the clock with paper, leaving us a subtle message that he would never return. 

This was a guy who never announced his presence or demanded our notice, but who consistently served the office with joy and a Christian work ethic. Many of us never took the time to make him a friend, but in his final weeks we were left with the impression that he counted us as his intimates.

His final, telling pronouncement that he was here among us--but now is gone--has left me a little disappointed in my own lack of attention to him while we worked together. Goodbye, Lloyd.