Nymph-O-Matic?

All across the world there are versions of this question ringing out: "What's for dinner?"

Now, I know some of you out there are good cooks, some might even be Julia Child-like...but there are some of you who think cooking involves a can of "Cream of Mushroom" soup, rice which never comes in contact with others of their species (how do they make rice that does that anyway - I think NASA had something to do with it), and a block of Velveeta.

While I'm not picking on you, I'm just amazed that someone can slap together a dinner, from start to finish, in the time it takes for me to wash my vegetables. Seriously, that's not fair...and that's as far away from being a gourmand than those rice grains are away...from each other.

Yes, I know...those "Iron Chef" people can make a dozen delectable dishes in the time it takes me to return from a commercial break, but I never see them wash their vegetables, either...so I'm discounting them. Plus being "quick like a bunny" never helped any rabbit in any cook's kitchen.

But, those of you who feel the calling to harken back to the bygone days of tomato aspics expertly molded into regal Crimean lion poses -- and little racks of lamb with the tiny white chef's hat lovingly placed upon each little lamb-bone...I bring to you a gem of a recipe I recently unearthed in my vintage 1941 "The Escoffier Cook Book"...

So the next time you scoff because that burrito in the microwave is taking longer than 1:21 to cook or that you can't believe the skyrocketing price of a dented can of Le Sueur baby peas...just be glad that you'll probably never cause a grand societal faux pas embarrassing yourself by mistakenly stirring your iced tea with your marrow spoon.

Now...about that dinner...

(Click on the photos to enlarge them if you cannot read the full text.)

Ah...the Sweet Smell of Spring...on Venus!

In keeping with my monthly suggestion of a Montgomery Advertiser online theme (last month was "...Nature's Little...") - I read Liberty4USA's blog and she suggested others post their Spring memories...so I decided to go for it and do a Spring blog myself.

While Liberty let slide she's a closet pyromaniac...and heaven knows I've done my fair share of "setting things on fire for the 'sake' of science"...I won't divulge what horrors befell the unlucky specimens who got the hot end of the deal. Plus...I really don't want PETA putting my childhood photo on signs with a circle and red line through it. So, I'll just confess she's not the only one who found out that you can indeed set things on fire with a magnifying glass...altho I'll admit my infatuation with it stopped LONG ago. ;)



But...back to Spring.

Spring always conjures up imagery in my head of getting a brand spanking new matching pastel outfit to wear to church on Easter Sunday. This included "the works": hat, dress, a flimsy coat, and "shiny as a just minted penny" shoes. Photos were obligatory; gloves were optional...but as I grew up in the 1960s, they were still in vogue and I had to have them. I don't remember ever wearing the outfit more than once...but it was always an event - and fond memories are made of such events.

Spring, growing up in New Jersey...was a transitional thing. My son even remarked to me the other day, upon seeing the outside temperature while in the climate controlled atmosphere of my car, that Spring lasted about one day...and what was up with it going from freezing cold to blazing hot literally overnight.

It is true...I remember in Jersey how the flowers would herald the changing seasons. First the crocus would poke its clever blooms up and out thru the snow...then the narcissus and daffodils...giving way to the luxurious scent of lilac. If you've never smelled a real live, honest-to-goodness lilac bush...you really don't know what you're missing. Forget those Glade air fresheners...even Yankee Candle can't come close. A real Yankee knows lilacs don't reek of things like patchouli and cotton...or whatever combo they use to try to recreate the "lilac" experience. Real lilac hangs on the air as delicately as those lace-like structures etched on a dragonfly's wings...and darts off in the wind as effortlessly and quickly as well. It's there for a moment...and when you think you can hone in on it...it eludes you yet again.

Grabbing handfuls of the lovely blossoms and deeply burying my nose in them...ah...the thing that Spring memories again are made of - but are probably only as sweet as the remembrances of youth. I'm sure the flowers don't emit the same odour they once had. Time has a way of altering the senses and perceptions...and turning the most lovely memories into the mundane when you stray down that road again in another time. Some things are best left to memories...so perhaps it's a good thing I've never seen a lilac bush here in Alabama...and those waxy "effigies" the companies make - well, can't hold a candle to them.

But I'm waxing nostalgic (yes, that clearly was intentional)...

Spring in Alabama - what does it mean to me now?

Mosquitoes? Yeah, okay but they seem to find me year-round...so not that "Spring-like" really. Think, think, think...what do I remember most about this place in the Spring?

I know!

Primordial soup.

We have a swimming pool...or as they call it here in the South, a "cement pond". (Oh, c'mon...that was a joke.) Each year, instead of letting it run (via the pump)...we just let nature run its course...and then just drain it in the Spring, clean out the sludge which accumulated...and fill it back up again. Voila! Yankee ingenuity at its best. (Again...I'm jesting.)

But...in between the time we stop swimming and the time we start swimming...there is this interim period...a "Spring" of sorts if you will...which happens, coincidentally, between Winter and Summer. And in that time period - all kinds of things take up residence in my pool.

There are bugs...water bugs. I don't know how they find my pool...but they do. It's not like there's a little river which leads into my pool...but the water bugs find it anyway. Then the frogs and toads come. This is about the same time that the algae decides to go into hyperdrive. It begins to look like the scum on top of a soup...the stuff that you scoop off when it's simmering. Seriously...this stuff looks like it's just about to boil. There's some anaerobic activity going on I'm certain. Then...that's when "it" happens. Out of this bubbling cold cauldron - "things" begin to grow in this massive soup mixture.

Primordial things.

Primordial things begin to grow...and grow and grow. It's like a full-scale science experiment - my own little planet of life brewing...right in my backyard. We had these one-celled creatures you could SEE with the naked eye. You aren't supposed to SEE one-celled creatures like amoebas. But these were giant amoebas! I kid you not. I had giant microbial mutant life in my pool...and I will probably have it again. The abject lack of a transitional Springtime is probably to blame...certainly not due in any part with our lackadaisical approach to proper pool maintenance.

So while SETI and NASA are out there with their mass spectrometers, telescopes and space stations...searching the far distant skies for extraterrestrial life on other planets, I have intraterrestrial life in my pool each year. Life that I let slip down some drain.

On some grand cosmic scale this is probably terribly sad or terribly ironic...which it is I'm not really sure.

But it sure wouldn't be Spring in Alabama to me...without it.

Huntsville Here I Come!

Me? Getting a job working for NASA?? Smells too good to be true, right?

"No," you're saying..."you silly thing...it's supposed to be 'sounds' to be good to be true".

Oh, but I beg to differ. And I would be right. Let me ramble for a bit, i.e., explain.

I can smell things. Yes, not that great an accomplishment - we were all pretty much born with that ability.

No, but I can REALLY smell things. I smell things before anyone else does...sometimes they don't ever smell them at all. And the things I've smelled have helped others.

Long ago, I smelled a natural gas odor in an open field once across the street from a development. After reporting it to the police, he informed me that area was where the "odor release tubes" were located. If you didn't know, the "natural gas smell" is actually made and added to the odorless product so people can detect it...as without it, you couldn't smell a gas leak...and, well, that could be catastrophic. The pipes out in the field dispersed the odor...and that's what I smelled. He then remarked that I "certainly must have some nose"...as it's really not that discernable.

Well, I do.

I also told a gas meter reader once that there was a "gas smell" in the area where I lived...and sure enough, he checked and it turned out there was indeed a break in the underground line...and they were promptly fixed.

My nose is SO good in fact...that I can "smell" books from across the room. Don't believe me...go smell a book...it has a distinct aroma. I can even detect the faint smell of ink IN an uncapped pen from about 10 or so feet away. Not marker ink, mind you...regular pen ink...just lying there on the table. And I can smell it.

I can locate small dead animals my cats dragged into the house. Sure, I probably look pretty silly down on all fours sniffing about - but I can find EACH and every dead thing here. In fact...I just located a dead bird next to the cat litter box...that hadn't been there for more than a couple hours. Death...has a specific smell...and I'm good at honing in on it...fortunately...or unfortunately.

An aspect of my whole life seems to center around my being able to smell things which most people don't smell...or smell "eventually". But, just as a shark has his olfactory nerve underwater - able to detect a drop of blood in all those gallons...miles away...I am, on a much smaller scale, the equivalent of him on land. Yes, I am the "land shark" of my species.

But what good does possessing an astute nasal appendage, a prodigious proboscis, or a special "scent-sational power" like this really get you in life...except perhaps a heads up notice on when the bread is going bad or if that cream in the fridge is still good beyond its expiration date?

Apart from becoming a "drug sniffing" or "bomb sniffing" dog in the airport - seriously...what smelly job is lurking out there for me?

Well, testers at perfume companies rely on people with great noses...and I am sure the whole "aroma" factor is invaluable in a whole realm of tasting jobs - but, are there any in this area which actually need a "sniffologist" as it were?

So, by the time all those thoughts had gone through my mind, I decided to employ Google to help me find (betcha thought I'd say "sniff out") some "nosy jobs". The one I liked best was "NASA Sniffer"...oh, to be NASA's "Master Sniffer" one day. Boy, if my friends ever caught a whiff of that one -- they'd surely get their collective noses out of joint.

Sure, it's not an astronaut nor a rocket scientist, but, c'mon..."NASA Master Sniffer" isn't exactly a job to turn your nose up about.


(Did anyone else notice that "NASA" is one letter away from "NASAL"? Okay...well, maybe it's just me, then.)