Month: September 2023

Avocados for breakfast

On By scottpetersenIn Uncategorized1 Comment

[A repeat from August 20, 2013]

“Avocados for Breakfast” sounds like the title of a steamy romance novel set in Northern California.   “Hey Martha, would you like an avocado for breakfast?”  “Oh Henry, you sweet talker. . . . ”  

I have breakfast every morning.   For my breakfast, you might make a face – shake your head – and say “Are you kidding.”

I try to eat a healthy breakfast.  Oh I know – if there’s leftover pizza or spaghetti carbonara in the fridge, I’d likely grab that and some coffee.  But that stuff does not make for a sparky day.  Usually it’s high fiber (bran) cereal, blueberries or banana and coffee. Lotsa coffee. . . .  Maybe once or twice a week, I have an avocado (with a little Newman’s salad dressing) and a banana. And the obligatory coffee.  More and more though I’m drifting toward avocados for breakfast. . . . . 

Avocados are a magnificent food.  One of the healthiest you can eat.  And avocados are among the least contaminated so there is really no need to buy organic (see post of July 12, 2012, for the “Dirty Dozen” foods which you do not want to buy “conventional”).  And avocados are simply delish.  I make my own guacamole (smooshed avocado, finely-chopped cilantro and lime juice – that’s it) and have it for a meal.  Heck – guacamole for breakfast?  It doesn’t get any better.   

Three little words I long to hear

On By scottpetersenIn Three little words I long to hearLeave a comment

I’m hoping that readers share a longing to hear those three – special – little words that mean so much. No – I’m not talking “I love you” or “go Chicago Cubs.” I’m talking “chicken pot pie.” OMG – be still my heart (but not too still). As a kid, my mother served me Banquet chicken pot pies with regularity. They were wonderful. Nourishing. Gooey. Delish. For me, it was often breakfast (seriously). And it was PB & J with a slice of bologna on Wonderbread for lunch. Anywayyy. . . .

When I was in law school, I lived at 1006 North State Street in Chicago – across from the old Mister Kelly’s just off of Rush Street. Kitty corner from Papa Milano’s. It was a dumpy walk up apartment that was replete with mice, cockroaches and an occasional ant. My refrigerator freezer was stocked with – yep – chicken pot pies. And the pantry full of canned corn. My dinner started with putting the CPP in the oven – 35 minutes at 400 degrees. Then I would tear the label off the can of corn, peel open the top and put the can on the burner of the stove. When the water in the can bubbled, it was ready. I’d fold the top down, drain and pour the contents on top of my – chicken pot pie. Yum.

These days, I’m still a big fan of chicken pot pie. And yet despite my culinary elan, Donna remains on the sidelines except for the rare occasion when I’ve earned some hubby points and we sit down to dine on chicken pot pie.

For dessert, I’m a big fan of three (other) little words that I long to hear – “Key Lime Pie.”

The Magician

On By scottpetersenIn The Magic ManLeave a comment

When I was 8 years old, I got a magic kit. I immediately started whisking around handkerchiefs, tearing paper, dropping coins and fiddling with ropes. After a few weeks of practice, I considered myself a master in the art of prestidigitation so I sent around word to neighborhood kids that I would have a magic show in my back yard. Admission? Five cents. My mom made lemonade and popcorn for the crowd. It was a wonderful success. As I recall I made about 70 cents. Big money for an 8 year old in 1955. . . .

Fast forward . . . . our daughter Lauren was turning 7 or 8. For the kid’s party, Donna said she was going to hire a magician. Cost? $25.00. I scoffed. “I can do a magic show for nothing!” Donna’s eyes narrowed. “Pleeeease let me do it” I implored. She said “okay” and I headed off to Magic, Inc. – a shop on Lincoln Avenue – where I spent at least a hundred bucks on new magic tricks. Lauren’s party was a big success – such that when the local grade school was having a silent auction to raise money, Donna signed me up to do a magic show. Some lucky person bid $50.00 and got the show of a lifetime. For the performance, I donned my tuxedo, gathered up my tricks – and headed off for the gig. To say it was a big success would be an understatement. . . . .

In the weeks that followed, I began getting calls to do magic shows for kids. “How much?” they’d ask. I said “$75.00” then after a few shows I upped the number to “$100.00.” And the calls kept coming. I also volunteered numerous shows for various friends and charitable causes. Over the course of my “career” as a magician, I probably did two dozen kid shows. But I started thinking – I’ve got a day job. So I put my magic wand back in the drawer and discontinued the kid shows. But even today – every once in a while – I will perform a miracle or two.

Not many folks know that I have actually performed magic for four Presidents of the United States. That’s true – Donna and I were out at Mt. Rushmore a few years ago and . . . . .

A Priest, a Lawyer and an Engineer

On By scottpetersenIn Humor1 Comment

[A good one from January 7, 2018] During the French Revolution, 3 noblemen – a priest, a lawyer and an engineer – were condemned to die on the guillotine.   As noblemen, they were afforded one final courtesy of rank.  That of choosing whether to die face up – or face down – on the guillotine. 

The priest was led up the steps where the black-hooded executioner stood.   “How do you wish to die, face up or face down,” said the executioner.  The priest thought, looked up and said “I wish to die face up – so I may see the heavens one last time and meet my maker face to face.”  With that the priest was placed into the guillotine and the executioner pulled the rope.  The heavy blade fell swiftly – but an inch above the priest’s throat, the blade screeched to a stop.  It was jammed.  Under French law, if someone was spared death on the guillotine, he was a free man.  So the blade was raised and the priest walked away — free.  

Then the lawyer was led up the wooden steps.  “How do you wish to die – face up or face down?”   The lawyer quickly looked up and said “Ohhhh I too want to die face up to see the heavens one last time and meet my maker face to face.”  The lawyer was put into the guillotine and the executioner pulled the cord.   Whoosh!  The thick blade sped downward — but just over the lawyer’s throat, the blade came to a halt.  And of course under French law, being spared death on the guillotine meant the lawyer was a free man.  He hopped up and walked away. 

Then the engineer was led up and the executioner asked — “How do you wish to die, face up or face down.”  The engineer looked up and said “I too. . . want. . . to die . . . .face up to . . .”  He stopped and pointed.  “HEEEY!  I think I see your problem up there!” 

I want it as hot as you make it

On By scottpetersenIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

I like spicy food. Jalapenos. Curry. Peppers. Sichuan. Hot sauce.

Fast backwards about 35 years. Donna, Lauren and I went out for dinner to a new Indian restaurant on North State Street in Chicago. The waiter – kind gent – walked over and asked for our order. And I – macho man – order a vegetarian dinner. Then our server narrowed his eyes and asked “would you like light or medium spice” to which I paused – looked him in the eye – and replied “I want it as hot as you make it.” To which he paused . . . and asked seriously “are you sure?”

Now most intelligent people would take that “are you sure” as a caution. A warning. A red flag. But me? OH NOOOO. . . . . The meal sounded like it would be right up my alley.

Ten or fifteen minutes later, the waiter approached our table with a tray bearing three innocent-looking meals. My vegetarian plate consisted of perhaps six small bowls filled with – yes – veggies. I have a feeling that as the waiter pushed the door to exit the kitchen, a dozen eyes peered out the small square window to see who in the world ordered his food “as hot as you make it.”

I took a bite. And began to perspire. Donna and Lauren looked at me like the man is bonkers. The meal was really quite an experience. And frankly so were the next two or three days . . .

Make a Difference in the World

On By scottpetersenIn Making a difference in the worldLeave a comment

[A repeat from November 21, 2019] I’d like to make a difference in the world. So would you. But the clock is winding down.  I ponder this question.  Pray about it.  Discuss it with others.  I recently happened across some quotations – on this very topic.  Let me share a few with you — to consider.  

“We rise by lifting others” – Robert Ingersoll

“No act of kindness – no matter how small – is ever wasted” – Aesop 

“One person can make a difference.  And everyone should try”  – John F. Kennedy

“If you cannot feed a hundred people, feed one” – Mother Teresa

“We can change the world and make it a better place.  It is in our hands – to make a difference”  — Nelson Mandela

“The purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well”  — Ralph Waldo Emerson

“No work is insignificant. All labor that uplifts humanity has dignity and importance and should be undertaken with painstaking excellence” — Martin Luther King

“I have one life and one chance to make it count for something… My faith demands that I do whatever I can, wherever I am, whenever I can, for as long as I can with whatever I have to try to make a difference“ — Jimmy Carter

“There is no limit to the amount of good you can do if you don’t care who gets the credit” — Ronald Reagan

Let’s make a difference in the world.  As Lao Tzu puts it – “the journey of a thousand miles – begins with that first step.”  Take a step. . . .   

Flying Commercial

On By scottpetersenIn Gerald FordLeave a comment

[A repeat from December 28, 2017] On May 6, 1982, Donna was on United Airlines flight 911 [ironic flight number] from New York to Chicago’s O’Hare Field after her grandfather’s funeral.  In those days (pre 911), anyone could wander out to the arrival gate – to welcome friends and loved ones. So I parked in the lot and hoofed out to the gate.  The flight was due to arrive at 10:09 pm but was running late. It finally arrived at 10:40 pm.

Waiting in the gate area, I noticed a few “suits” standing around. Whispering into little walkie talkies. I figured they were there to make sure I didn’t get too frisky when I saw Donna. The plane docked.  The walkway door opened and people began streaming out. And then there was Donna. . . .

She came up to me and said “you won’t believe who’s on the flight.” I said “Donald Trump?” [just kidding].  And she said “No – Gerald Ford.” And indeed as we started walking toward the baggage claim, I looked back and out from the gangway popped the 38th President of the United States. Surrounded by a fast-walking security “diamond” of Secret Service.   Well. . . .

Some of you know of my interest in autographs and manuscripts so I asked Donna for her ticket. And I slowed down – positioning myself to be in the center of the security diamond as it advanced.   Suddenly I was caught up on the edge of the diamond.  I was one Agent away from number 38.  “Mister President” I offered.  “May I have your autograph?”  He had papers under his arm and he responded “kinda tough with my arms full” – and I handed him my ticket and a pen.  He slowed, put the ticket on his papers, scribbled his name and I exited the “diamond.”  Zing!

I remember the story of Harry and Bess Truman.  When they left the White House, they took a train back to Independence, MO.  And the two lived on Harry’s $112.56 per month Army pension.  Without Secret Service protection.  I am keenly aware that we’re in a different world.  But it is important that our current leaders – and their spouses – remain safe.  And yet be economical.  Taking the train like Harry.  Or flying commercial like Jerry.       

At Home

On By scottpetersenIn At Home by Bill BrysonLeave a comment

(A repeat from May 11, 2014) In Deborah Tannen’s classic work You Just Don’t Understand, she speaks of how men talk to “report” and women talk for “rapport.”  Well speaking of books, I just finished one that – guys – you will love.  It’s At Home by Bill Bryson.  It contains so many facts and factoids that I want to read it again.  Just to absorb more stuff to report on.   

It may sound boring but At Home takes you through the house room-by-room and explains just about everything.   Why did the kitchen develop?  Why is it called a “living room”?  What is the importance of ice?   How did bathing come into fashion?  Quick answer – it didn’t for a looooonnnng long time. . . . . Why are there bedrooms?   Bathrooms?  Why glass windows?   

Mister B devotes infinite – fascinating – detail to these and hundreds of other blips and tidbits of information.  From architecture, electricity, hygiene, food preservation and the daily life of eating, sleeping and trying to get more comfortable.  Guys, you can carry this book to cocktail parties and when other guys start spouting facts, you can pull this baby out and wow ’em.   

Chocolate in the Night

On By scottpetersenIn Chocolate in the NightLeave a comment

I like coffee. And chocolate. But I’m not sure they like me. At night.

If I drink coffee, have a Pepsi or eat chocolate at or after dinner, the caffeine will hit my “awake” buzzer – usually around 3:00 a.m. It is a problem. And it takes a world of effort, relaxation, meditation and prayer to entice my body to succumb – once again – to sleep. We go out for dinner with friends and I see “chocolate fondant” on the menu and I begin to perspire – as I sputter to the server “I’ll have the c-c-c-carrot cake.”

A few years ago, Donna and I were talking about this . . . this . . . “situation.” So I penned a song about my dilemma. It goes to the tune of “Strangers in the Night”. . . .

Chocolate in the night – Keeps my eyes open.

When I douse the light – I just try copin’

I will sometimes read – until the clock strikes four.

It was just a bite. Then an another.

I tried with all my might – Thought of my mother.

But it didn’t work – I took another piece.

Chocolate in the night – It’s an addiction.

It really is a fright – it’s not a fiction.

Everywhere I go – Rain, heat frost or snow

I will grab a candy bar – a Hershey’s kiss or cocoa star

And . . . .

You get my drift. . . .