Utopia Articles (II)

The Ham Phenomenon

I'm pretty sure our esteemed editor hoped the contributors would discuss cherished family recipes but I'm going to break ranks and simply discuss FOOD. My likes, dislikes, and associations. I simply don't have a recipe I feel compelled to share but more than that, I have a feeling it would be perused, possibly filed, but never used. Not that my mother's recipes aren't great...I love her cooking. But I think most people like their own family recipes over an outsider's.

I certainly have a soft spot for my mom's meatloaf and tuna casserole. A good friend feeds me every so often and she's cooked me a fabulous version of both tuna casserole and meatloaf and they tasted great (thanks Carol!). But my mom's is...well, my mom's. I think most of us have favorite foods and recipes that we associate with events or times in our lives. When I make it home to visit my parents, my mother always asks me what I want her to fix. I'm sure parents would be surprised to know the things we remember and miss when we've moved away from home. Even when I was a kid, my mom was surprised to learn that I'd have traded most fancy meals for grilled-cheese sandwiches and tomato soup on a cold evening. Sometimes the easiest meals are the most appreciated.

My poor mother had it tough since the task of creating the menu each week fell to her. There were a couple of occasions when she forced a family conference to decide on alternate dishes. Her desire to provide some flair in our weekly menu once lead her to try a new recipe for "Chicken a la King". I'm still not sure how this was created or what it consisted of, but I think my father, sister, and I formed a unified front and flatly denied the re-appearance of this dish on our dinner table. I think this was the only dish at which we ever truly balked. It's one thing to appreciate the effort and another to consume said effort.

Which leads me to ponder "The Ham Phenomenon". When I was living at home, I would return from school and, before heading off to play or do homework, I'd ask my mom what was for dinner. If the answer was "ham", I was overwhelmingly distraught. To this day, I really can't explain it though I distinctly recall the feeling. Mom had a great recipe for a raisin glaze that complemented the ham and we always had mashed potatoes and gravy, which I loved. But for some reason, the word "ham" triggered something in me that had me jumping like Pavlov's dog. I felt that ANYTHING would be better than ham for dinner. Maybe even Chicken a la King. "The Ham Phenomenon" is even harder to understand when I tell you that upon sitting down to dinner, I really enjoyed the ham and scarfed it down with great gusto. So why did the word "ham" cause such upheaval in my world? Who knows. See what my mother had to deal with?

My tastes in food have generally run to those simple and cheap. I usually like to identify what I'm eating...not every spice involved in its creation, but certainly no mystery ingredients. My ability to spell all the ingredients is an additional selling point. When I go out to eat at restaurants, I usually end up finding a particular dish on the menu and having settled on a winner, I tend to stick with it. My friends kid me about this and say I should at least pretend to look at the menu, but I know what I like and I'd rather not be disappointed with my choice. I guess I'm not an adventurous eater but my tastes have changed as I've aged. When I was a kid I would not be caught dead eating broccoli. Trees are for climbing and providing shade. I saw no reason to eat one that was so obviously disguising itself as a vegetable. Now, broccoli is my favorite green veggie. I also avoid flash over substance. That's not to say I look for the best weight to dollar ratio, but I've never been so bowled over by presentation that I would submit to a huge price-tag.

My favorite meal as a kid, and the one most frequently picked for my birthday dinner, was enchiladas with rice, beans, and a huge pile of salad. Enchiladas take some preparation so, for my working mother, it was a meal saved for special occasions. This made it more coveted and a perfect meal to roll out for a birthday. I still love Mexican food most of all and drag my co-workers to my favorite restaurant in town every chance I get. Give me unlimited chips and salsa and I'm a return customer. But even with this restaurant's fabulous green enchiladas, I still think back to my mom's enchiladas and remember how great they tasted. It's a combination of taste and association that takes me back, and that's why a recipe passed between friends can never match an old favorite. So instead of sharing a recipe with you, I'll suggest you shuffle through your old recipe cards or call your parents and reacquaint yourself with a fond, food memory from your childhood.

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Healthy, Wealthy, and Wise

Of the three words in the title, I think I have a tenuous grasp on one. Wise. And I might be fooling myself on that count. Staying healthy should be easy since there are so many people out there willing to help...for a price. Actually, you might achieve your goal without spending too much money but you'll need a large serving of willpower. For me, that particular element has slipped through my fingers one too many times. The trouble is, knowing how to stay healthy does not earn you that health. If it did, I might be one of the healthiest people on the planet.

When people use the word "healthy", the first thing that springs to mind is physical health. Health really encompasses the mind, the body, and the spirit. An improvement in physical health usually leads to an improvement in one's overall mental state. One of the problems with keeping fit is that if you slack off, you soon find yourself in a downward spiral. Or is that a vicious cycle? One of the two and it's not a pretty sight. Just starting on a healthy regimen of exercise is troublesome. As soon as you overcome the aches and pains, exhaustion, and time commitment, a holiday rolls around or you come down with some interesting infectious disease. Suddenly, a few days off turns into the worst case of procrastination known to man. That, coupled with the pounds and inches rushing back as if to fill a vacuum, leads to a protracted absence from the gym. Ground zero, meet Barbara. Barbara, reacquaint yourself with ground zero.

Speaking of the gym... Have you ever noticed how workout clothes are designed for people who are already fit? Certainly, the ads showing the merchandise never include a customer of my generous proportions. No problem. I just wear my baggy shorts and T-shirts. When you venture into the gym and mingle with the other patrons, you'll notice they all look as if they should be wearing signs proclaiming "Body by Atlas". Do I feel out of place? Surely you jest? Headphones firmly in place, I usually head straight for the equipment of choice and get down to business. Treadmills. Stairmasters. Stationary bikes. Sure I could do all these exercises outside but at the gym I'm in air-conditioned comfort with a row of televisions to keep me company.

Of course, this sort of comfort does not come cheap. That's where the word "wealthy" figures into the equation. If you're not wealthy, this fitness craze may pass you by. You can always bypass the organized fitness center with the huge price tag and try a simpler, home brewed method. I always picture myself as Rocky Balboa, hanging a side of beef in my living room and using it as a punching bag. Or lying on my kitchen floor with a two-liter bottle of Diet Pepsi in each hand doing upper-body work. The fact is, I already have an entire exercise regimen built into my free time at home. There's the mad dash to the Caller ID unit when the phone rings at night. Sort of a poor man's version of wind sprints right in the privacy of your own home. I know for certain I'm one up on Pat Morita since I've come up with my own take on that "wax on, wax off" exercise. It involves the use of my computer mouse with the right hand and wiping my monitor free of dust with the left. Who said time in front of the computer isn't time well spent?

At this point in my life, I'm neither healthy nor wealthy. But I am wise in the ways of achieving a healthy lifestyle. The problem lies in putting that information into practice. Wisdom does not a healthy person make. But I am constantly poised on the threshold of a healthy future. I have such good intentions. Really, I do. So where does the breakdown occur? In most cases, it all comes back to that vicious cycle. If you feel down and depressed about your health and body image, you tend to do less and stay home more. This of course leads to a sedentary lifestyle that simply promotes the cause of the depression. As the health goes, so goes the motivation. Breaking this cycle, or simply forcing yourself to work through it, is the only salvation.

Once you get on track, your desire to workout on a regular basis increases. When you see and feel an improvement in your physical health, you find renewed motivation. But, in order to avoid derailment, you need a strong ally. This is where willpower features. If I could market willpower, I'd be a millionaire. "Willpower. Available now at Walmart!" They could stock it on the shelf next to the exercise equipment. Remembering the enthusiasm that comes from seeing improvement and succeeding in a goal, acts as a strong motivator. Being healthy is something that is never out of reach and is actually within your control. We should all make a renewed effort to lead a healthier life. Maybe I'll start tomorrow by browsing the shelves at my local Walmart...just in case.

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Pet Stories

Pet stories. You know those people at work who regale you with stories about their baby or their kids and the cute, zany antics and hi jinx from the weekend? Well, I'm a milder version of that but my stories feature my pets. I have pet stories. They may shock or bore but, if there is a lull in the conversation, I'm ready with a tale to fill the void.

Right now I have three pets. Two African Gray parrots and one rat. My goal is to eventually provide a good home and backyard for a dog but, so far, I have been adoptive parent for birds and rodents only. The advantage is two-fold. They take up less space and they don't require a pet deposit. My job in scientific research has provided me with a constant source for rescues. I've taken in lots of mice and, most recently, a white lab rat. Ratboy. The birds are also rescues of a fashion, but not from a life of research. Both Sam and Pharaoh had previous owners and both were abandoned. A life in my home with me as their psycho owner may not be ideal but, compared to their previous treatment, it's a step up.

Having pets is a great source for stories. Co-workers are also a great source for stories but my pets seem less inclined to listen to them. Usually, the story-telling flows in one direction; from home to work. Occasionally something so noteworthy happens in lab that I tell my pets about it despite their pretensions toward disinterest. I know they think it's funny; they just don't want to encourage me.

When I owned mice, I found them fun to watch but less productive in story material than Ratboy, for instance. The mice did their own thing with my interference in their lives being for feeding and cleaning purposes. I'd take them out and pet them and move them to their recreation area and back to their cages but for the most part we didn't interact. They were fun to watch. If you have a wheel, mice can either run on it or simply climb it. They're so small they can often make it to the top without the wheel actually turning. And when they run on the wheel, they can make it almost 180 degrees up before the wheel seems to register their weight and make a rotation. When I was home sick and immobile with strep throat, this sort of thing provided easily digestible entertainment. Cheap too.

Ratboy is a different story. It surprised me to discover that a rat could be so sociable. As I mentioned, the mice aren't overly sociable so I was amazed to discover what a smart, fun pet a rat could be. I got Ratboy when he was fairly young. He looked like a big, white lab mouse except his feet were bigger and his tail was definitely a rat tail. Then he started growing. I was actually glad when his growth spurt struck since I was hoping his overall body size would catch up with one particular area of his anatomy. I'll just say that I was used to having female mice. Being introduced to Ratboy left me little question as to his sex. I was astounded at the size of his nads (that's the best I can do with that). Huge. At least one third his overall mass, I was sure. Not long after I got Ratboy the air conditioning in my house broke and I came home to find him, and the two male mice I had at the time, accommodating the increase in temperature by letting it all hang out. I understood their need to "air out" but I couldn't squelch my astonishment and simply had to share with my co-workers. Experience the wonder second hand!

I usually recount events that are a bit more mainstream. Ratboy gets to come out and run around the house at night. He usually hangs out with me for awhile then heads off on reconnaissance missions with periodic check-in stops back at the couch. When he was really tiny he had to lick everything. Actually, he alternated between licking and biting; not hard but just enough to get the lay of the land. When the land happened to be the back of my leg, I was less than thrilled. Now he just goes around sniffing everything. The amazing thing is I never potty-trained my rat. He just seemed to know that he should hold it. Either that or one day I'm going to find the mother of all litter boxes in a currently undisclosed area. There were times early on when Ratboy wanted to explore but didn't seem to realize that some areas were unreachable. He'd hit a wall and think he could dig or burrow his way through. Occasionally this would be a particular corner of the couch and once or twice, my arm or leg. He'd wedge himself as far as he could then squeak until he was rescued. This was early on and I was truly worried that I had ended up with one of the dumber animals in existence. I think he was just young and inexperienced. Now he knows to back out and try another route. Although there was one time in recent memory when he was convinced that he could get behind my head as it lay on a pillow and I thought for a moment he was going to try chewing his way through. I think he was being a wiseguy and knew I'd sooner lift up my head than test his determination to burrow through.

My birds offer me constant entertainment but with a different flair than the antics of Ratboy. Sam and Pharaoh can whistle a lot and talk a bit. Just knowing that your pet has the power of speech seems to allow for striking up conversations. I probably should feel weird for conversing with my birds but it beats yelling at the TV. When I lived in California my birds had the ability to wake me just before an earthquake. The first time it happened I just had Pharaoh. His cage was in my bedroom and I woke up to him diving off his perch and squawking madly. Half awake, I jumped out of bed and sat next to his cage to try to calm him. Just then I felt the earthquake. It happened more than once with both Sam and Pharaoh so I know it wasn't a fluke. They really don't like the earthquake experience. They absolutely freeze and I mean that literally. Usually you can't just reach in and touch Pharaoh but following an earthquake he'd be on his perch with his head down and his tail in the air in a frozen stance and would allow me to reach in and pet him. He wouldn't move at all. During this bizarre behavior, I would sit patiently next to his cage and tell him he was okay. Months after one of these events I woke up early one Saturday and from the silence of the living room I heard this small voice inquire, "Are you okay?" Very freaky!

For the most part, Sam and Pharaoh are whistlers. The typical "charge" and wolf whistle are on their top ten lists but Sam is fond of imitating anything I whistle then modifying it to his tastes. It's interesting the reciprocal manner of learning we've devised. First I'll hear Sam whistle something that I am convinced is a song I know. So I start to whistle the song and within no time, Sam is whistling the very song I thought I recognized. He's learned "La Cucaracha", "Misty", and some Mozart and Beethoven selection. We also enjoy whistling arias from the Three Tenors collection. But Sam's inventiveness doesn't stop there. He usually adds flourishes to anything he whistles and then tends to combine selections into one long song. If whistling songs was the only thing the birds did at high volume I think I'd get by just fine. The trouble comes when they pick up on an outside sound like a car alarm and run with it. Sam's favorite weapon against me is a rendition of the smoke alarm that would break most decibel meters. He's ruthless. And every time he opens his beak to torture me, Pharaoh has to join in with one of his wild bird screams. Don't ever let the small birdie facade fool you. They are wily in the extreme and show no mercy.

But I love having pets in the house. When I used to board my birds during trips, there was nothing as weird as coming home to a silent house. You can feel it as soon as you walk in, especially when I'm usually greeted by a "hello" from Sam. The quiet is spooky. As far as the story telling goes, I think my friends can stand listening to my pet stories as long as I compensate them by smiling and laughing when they tell me the latest thing their kid said or did. It's a balanced relationship. Besides, when Ratboy steals a Pop Tart from me and runs across the room dragging it behind him, I'm convinced I won't be the only one who finds that funny. Can't you just picture him?

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Zoo-Sitting

I have some friends that watch my pets for me when I'm out of town. Since I moved to Texas, I've been away for various trips and meetings and while I'm gone they stop by and feed my birds and whatever resident rodents I've adopted. I usually reciprocate by bringing back T-shirts and sending tacky postcards. Tacky postcards are my specialty but that's another story. I also offer to pet sit for them if ever they are in need. This week they called in the marker. This isn't my first time house/pet sitting for these friends but since my last stint as caretaker, the number of animals has increased. Thirty-three assorted animals. I now conclude that my job description has been elevated from pet-sitter to zoo-sitter.

Being a pet-sitter is a bit like being a substitute teacher. First, all concerned parties must take a day or so to get the lay of the land; to test boundaries. For the seven housecats, this consists of whining miserably for food then scarfing it down and barfing it back up on the carpet. Not fun for the zoo-sitter in residence, I'm here to tell you. Interestingly, the worst of this behavior occurred on the first day of my duties which is why I think it was more of a test than a pattern set in stone. It reminded me of my parrot Sam who, when I first brought him into my home, proceeded to bite me pretty damn hard on the hand. He's never replicated this event and I'm convinced it was his way of saying, "This is how bad it can be. Keep this in mind and we'll both get along smashingly." Worked for me.

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TIP #1:

Paper towels and recycled, plastic grocery bags are your friends. There is nothing the indoor animal can do that can't be dealt with in an economical fashion with a few low price items such as these. It may not be a pleasant experience, but most evidence of accidents can be miraculously disappeared in short order.

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Pets have personalities. Seems pretty obvious, but I started describing my many charges to a co-worker and he seemed surprised. Figured he better reacquaint himself with his parents' dog to determine the personality that had taken up residence without his knowledge. I told him about the two horses I was feeding morning and night and how food could be used to lead them from one paddock to the other or to distract them while you moved in with the hay. One horse is demanding and the other is accepting but both of them love carrots. The dogs definitely have differing temperaments. The outdoor dogs are greyhounds and blood hounds. Some of them just want to be pet while others want nothing more than to get out and run madly about the yard. All of them eventually allow me to pet them and walk freely about their domain and even jump up to greet me covering me in a lovely film of dirt. I tried to reprimand them, "Do you know how much this shirt cost me?" Okay, so it was only five bucks. Good thing I don't clean and tend pets like those women in flowing silk and taffeta from the ads back in the 50's.

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TIP #2:

Dust Buster. Don't be caught without it. Anything too small to pick up with a paper towel can be swept up with a dust buster. I have a Dirt Devil at home to clean up seeds and no pet owner can survive long without this sort of quick-fix tool.

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Among my charges are nine cats. Seven of them share the house with me while two have decided that outdoor living is more their style. In this hot and humid summer weather, I think I'd have to side with the indoor occupants. Every morning and evening, I feed the cats. A scoop of catfood per cat in each of their particular dishes. Did I mention particular dishes? And a particular order of feeding or I'm told that chaos will reign. I make the circuit of feeding as they all meow and encourage me and I send up a prayer that they eat slowly so as to avoid any reappearance of that food. There are cat treats for good behavior or if they start to look particularly pathetic. Unfortunately, over the weekend one of the cats jumped on the counter and dragged an entire package onto the floor. This didn't do the cats any good but the indoor dog spent the afternoon gnawing through the foil packet and scarfing down kitty treats. Now the whole lot is roosting on the top of the refrigerator. Sounded safe enough until I saw a cat on top of the fridge last night. Is there any place safe from an inquisitive cat?

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TIP #3:

Benadryl. Being allergic to cats and spending 12 days in the presence of nine cats is trying. The only way to manage is massive dosing with antihistamines. The fact that I'm exhausted and drowsy on a regular basis is a small price to pay for the privilege of breathing. You don't know how much you rely on breathing until it's compromised.

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Compared to the horses, dog, and cats, the remainder of the animals are low maintenance. There are chickens and guinea hens who only require feed and water. The indoor birds consist of two finches and one starling. It's really quite impressive how much peeping such tiny finches can produce on a regular basis. But definitely low maintenance. The starling is kind of fun. He gets his food and water changed in the mornings and when you bring him his food, he usually wants to sample it before you install it in the cage. So even the small animals have their special quirks and personality traits. For instance, the wood rat is busy trying to eat her way out of her terrarium. She's gnawing a hole in the ceiling cover and when I tried to change her food this morning she made a break for it. I managed to round her up and herd her back into the cage. I actually felt bad that she didn't succeed. I'm sure I'll feel less sympathetic as I listen to her banging and chewing on the lid in the middle of the night. The mice are a piece of cake. They're sweet and don't seem interested in escape. Ditto for the two rats. One is friendlier than the other but both seem interested in what my fingers might taste like and whether it's preferable to the food I'm trying to put inside.

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TIP #4:

Never let the cute, little faces fool you. They may look sweet and innocent when you arrive home but it might simply be your first clue that something is lying in wait for you. It could be an accident deposited by one of your charges in the center of the carpet or an item pulled from a shelf or counter. No matter what it is, their turned up faces will offer you no clues as to who was responsible. And they'll try their hardest to convince you that they're starving and you need to feed them before you see to any mishaps that might have occurred in your absence.

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I'm more than halfway through my zoo-sitting venture. I've actually enjoyed it quite a bit. I'd never taken care of horses before and thought if a problem cropped up, it would be with them. They've been very accommodating and tolerant of my inexperience. As the days pass, the animals are becoming more needy. They converge on me when I arrive at the house and seem to demand petting and attention. I think they want their family to return. For an animal lover, it's been great spending time with so many different animals. Knowing it's not a permanent responsibility certainly helps. If I ever get back to the zoo and see all the animals, I will consider the menagerie I've tended this week and send my fond and sympathetic regards to the zoo keepers.

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