Peanut Butter & Jam

As this pandemic unfolds, I notice curiously random brain behaviour both in dreams—looking into a stranger's eyes, and then the sinking gravity in our locked eyes as we realize we are shaking hands—and awake. Most mental filing cabinets get accessed quickly, but navigating new (and often fraught) problem-solving at work and socially, some odd cabinets seem to pop open during daily tasks. What's in those? It surprises me every time: a memory of a word game we used to play with our kids on road trips (first letter, last letter); a staccato song lyric from the 1980s All for freedom and for pleasure, nothing ever lasts forever, everybody wants to rule the world...and my childhood cat Bigfoot, curled on the couch next to my Dad, and so on. Writing this, I detect a pattern I hadn't noticed earlier. Sigh.

But my most spine-tingly example involved toasting a bagel a few days ago. As an educator who works in multiple schools weekly, I take a bagged lunch, but much lunch fare is contraband. Some schools restrict peanut butter, some nuts in general, one used to restrict fish and eggs. It makes for few easy lunch choices. Thus, I hadn't eaten peanut butter for years. However, with students relegated to their homes, I realized I could take a peanut butter sandwich to work, a momentary woo-hoo. Soon I found some in the back of our pantry; we were together for lunch, once again! Then, to treat myself one evening, I decided I needed a peanut butter and jam bagel. But when I placed the peanut butter knife in the jam, a strong familiar voice popped into my head, "Never put the peanut butter knife in the jam!" My oldest brother LOVED jam but HATED peanut butter so this was a rule growing up. He's been dead since 2013; I hadn't heard his voice for so long. I laughed and then it nearly broke me. But I ate that damn PB&J bagel, determined. Friends, use those voices inside you now, the ones that summon courage.

Boat Safety Test

Sea-worthy?

My wife is taking an online boating safety course right now. For her father. Yeah. Maybe don't tell anyone that part.

Anyway, some of the questions are a little extreme unless you have a reality show and you wrangle sharks for immunity idols. By contrast, our boating activities this summer include pretty much floating. And we also might do some floating too. Therefore the gale-force wind question seems somewhat irrelevant. So in the spirit of hyperbole, these questions incite in me the creative need to devise the ultimate perfectly ridiculous boat-safety test question possible and then it all became a freak-family brainstorming session. Here our the top three so far:

1. You are in the middle of the ocean and a Yeti speeds by on a sea-doo. Do you
a. return to the dock?
b. alert the coast guard?
c. return to TMZ headquarters with actual news?
d. pull out your bag-pipes and join the parade?

2. Someone has dropped a flaming buoy from a helicopter into your yacht. Do you
a. scream CUT and various obscenities then storm off the movie set (right Christian Bale)?
b. just let Jim Cameron have his way yet again?
c. eat carbs and wait to die?
d. get out the s'more fixins.

3. You are 13 nautical nautbits from the square of the hypotenuse of the shore. Someone in the boat has to go poop. Like right now. Like. IMMEDIATELY. And it's Grandpa. And he has gastrointestinal issues. Serious. Serious. Issues. Do you
a. watch in horror as he yanks down his pants and squats over the side of the boat?
b. avert your eyes.
c. avert your eyes.
d. avert your eyes.

Memory Lane Meanderings

 

Bionic Man vs. Sasquatch circa 1977



     During elementary school, someone gave me a G.I. Joe action figure. It confused me: How do I play with it? During those years all my play was solitary (my brothers were much older) so it's not like I could play war with other action figures. So, I improvised. One tragic night Joe drove my toy jeep off my miniaturized version of Niagara Falls. He survived but later went missing after a tragic, um, fire.     

     I guess I enjoyed simulating top news stories more than pretending G.I. Joe saved the day. When he melted, I moved on to other toys.

     But then someone gave me a Bionic Man action figure!

     Whoa.

     Now he could kick Joe's ass.

     And I could completely relate to him. His shirt was always inappropriately open. (See previous post.) His girlfriend was amazing. (She could throw a tennis racket at high speed while flinging her slow-motion blonde hair and being all angsty because she was rejecting her bionics.) And the Bionic Man could lift really big rocks before, during and after he fought the ever-elusive sasquatch! Plus, he had his own personal sound effect. Come. On. Who wouldn't want that?!!

     Anyway, nowadays I bet that boys would find it easy to relate to actions figures. Why? Because they can, a-hem, play with themselves. Let me explain.

     Custom designed action figures are available at That's My Face. Basically, send them a photo and they will create a mini-you, complete with your clothes, even replicas of your tattoos. Nothing sounds more egotistical, narcissistic or super-cool, if you ask me.

     I must admit that I especially like the concept of attaching my head to a buff professional wrestler-type action-figure body because currently my head seems to be affixed to a body with its own personal water-floatation device where my waist used to be. And, I could give this miniature version of myself to my son and then I would finally become his action figure hero. A Dad always wants to be his son’s hero, right?
     Uh oh. I just realized something. What if my son gets bored one day and pushes me off Niagara Falls? Or melts my feet off?