Crêpe

Crêpe: (n) a thin, light delicate pancake

 Sitting here, pausing, mulling the idea and the essence of the crepe, it occurred to me that many of the transitions and outstanding moments in my life have been marked by the discovery and pursuit of some new food.

Maybe that’s why I’m overweight.

I’ve lived such a full life at the banquet table of experience.

I remember when I was about six years old and I ate pickle-pimento lunchmeat for the first time. It was so good. I liked it when it was sliced thin. I liked it when the butcher made it chunkier.

I liked pickle-pimento loaf so much that I asked for it on my twelfth birthday.

On that day, and throughout that night, I personally ate an entire pound of the stuff.

I never developed a dislike for it—just allowed it to graduate on to my next epiphany of treats.

There was a season when I discovered Chinese food. Having graduated from high school, I found myself driving my old car to downtown Columbus—that being the one in the state of Ohio—and walking around, taking in some theater, and visiting (and eventually frequenting) a little Chinese walk-in restaurant called La Toy.

I had never eaten such fare during my growing up years. I quickly developed a favorite. It was listed as Number 3 on the menu: Fried rice, Egg Foo Yung and Chicken Chow Mein.

So whether I was shopping, looking for a chance to play in a rock and roll band, trying to figure out how to flirt with a girl or going to the state theater to see the Broadway cast of Godspell, I always ended up afterwards at La Toy, munching my jaws on my favored three.

Then a few years later, when I was traveling on the road trying to scratch out a living (but actually not caring one way or the other if the electric company got their payment) I stopped in with a couple of friends at the International House of Pancakes, and posed the question:

What is a crêpe?

It was explained to me, and on a whim, I ordered some, with strawberries on top.

Crêpes are the best of pancakes. They aren’t so heavy and flour-filled. They also are the best of eggs because you don’t have to decide if you like the yolks or not. I became fond of crêpes and frequented I-Hop so often that I nearly went bankrupt from my less-than-wealthy purse.

But to this day, if I come upon a crêpe, I will order it.

Matter of fact, some day in the future, arriving in heaven, sitting before me at the Banquet Table of Life, will be pickle-pimento loaf, Number 3 from La Toy and a platter of crêpes.

 

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

 

 

Crochet

Crochet: (n) needlework done with a needle with a large hook at one end.

I know nothing about crochet.

Yet this, by the way, does not discourage my need to espouse.

I have never crocheted. I don’t think I’ve even seen someone crochet, though they could have been doing it incognito—because since I don’t know what it is, it could be done before my very eyes and fool me for sure.

But I do recall that I had a great-aunt who decided to crochet me a sweater, since I was so overweight that it was difficult to buy them in stores. (As you can see, the premise for the gift was already somewhat flawed.)

So she set out to do this sweater for me—and then, six months later it arrived in the mail.

It was huge, and the color of straw.

In other words, it wasn’t yellow, it wasn’t brown, and you couldn’t even call it brownish-yellow or yellowish-brown. Although it was brand new, the flatness of the color made it look like it had been worn for many generations. And even though it was very large, when I put it on it felt funny. It was like one shoulder was crocheted shorter than the other, and the left-arm length was about three inches too long. It also had no buttons—you know, in the front, so you could join it and turn it into a sweater instead of a human horse blanket.

But it was warm, and it was the first piece of clothing that had come my way for a while (since in my era there was no such thing as “big men’s shops.”)

I decided to wear it.

My friends tried to be nice, but finally, when the class clown walked in, unaware that everyone was attempting to be sensitive about my misshapen garment, he just burst into laughter, which caused everyone else to feel free to mock at will.

You would think that this would have cured me from wearing my crocheted sweater—but because it was mine, and warm, and because I refused to be intimidated by the foolish fashionistas, I ended up donning it quite frequently.

Matter of fact, I kept it for two years, which is quite remarkable for an adolescent.

I wore it until one day, in study hall, I was suffering from a severe head cold. I had no Kleenex and feared that my entire brain was ready to run out of my nose and into my mouth. I reached up with my sweater and ran it across my nose, trying to sop up unwelcomed mucous.

You can tell by my description of the event that my wheaty-colored sweater could not be worn again.

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

 


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Coronary

Coronary: (adj) of or relating to the human heart, with respect to health.

There are really only four choices.

There may be varieties—but when you completely boil it down, there are a quartet of ways that life uses to get us off the planet.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

And we will leave. How we leave is what is perplexing—and I’m afraid may take up too much of our time contemplating.

You can croak by disease, make your eternal journey by accident, be blown away and murdered, or you can have a coronary—your heart suddenly deciding not only to quit, but to walk off the job.

These four loom and threaten the human race with personal extermination

I am normal (at least I think I am.) I have done my fair share of fidgeting over all the possibilities.

For a while, I didn’t want to watch medical shows on TV because I was in danger of sprouting the symptoms of the diseases they discussed.

There are times when I’m driving, and I envision what it might be like to be rolled over by an eighteen-wheeler.

Of course, in the middle of the night when I hear that sound creaking in my house, I wonder if it’s a murderous Second Amendment advocate, coming to prove to me why I should have a gun.

And because I am a chubby, overweight, even a sometimes-considered-fat fellow, the possibility of my heart disrupting my future plans is never a distant thought.

The problem with all such consideration is that it leads to anxiety.

Anxiety not only robs us of time, but also simulates our death in our mind, wasting precious moments we could be using to, shall we say, literally dodge the bullet.


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Congruent

Congruent: (adj) in agreement or harmony

I enjoy life so much that I would not mind if it were eternal–as long as I could maintain my choices.

There are very few things that disturb me.

Being overweight is an inconvenience.

Having trouble with my knees is a little bit of fussiness.

Getting honked at for pulling out in traffic does give me a temporary flash-back to young, impetuous bitterness.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

But normally, I am just pleased to not punch.

It is a juncture in history when wise souls will find reasons to be congruent with one another.

I am a little bit exhausted by having people around me choose up sides and feel they are better than me because they take stands–either left or right, conservative or liberal, God or the devil, and humus or salsa.

I’m looking for reasons to be reasonable.

I’m looking for joy to be joyful.

I’m looking at people as possible friends.

I’m looking to Earth to be my teacher, and to Heaven for my grace.

I am not an optimist.

I am a pragmatist who has packed an extra bologna sandwich for someone I might meet.

 


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Bony

Bony (adj) of or like bone.

I was born in the wrong century.Dictionary B

I should have been born during the Renaissance, when I could have been a renegade artist whose obesity would have been considered a sign of prosperity instead of weakness.

Yes, in the good old days, when people were struggling to get food, having a paunchy middle caused those around you to be envious of your luxurious calorie intake.

Nowadays, the human race actually prefers a controlled anorexia–even though I do not know what that would be, since the condition means that someone has lost control of their body.

We like people just short of bony–but also far away from plump. (By the way, we have removed the word “pleasingly.”)

I will admit that being overweight is a health hazard. I am not suggesting that people should literally “eat their heart out.” But we must also realize that “skin and bones” leaves the human body deprived of the nutrients to sustain well-being.

What’s the answer?

Gosh, I don’t know.

I guess we do the best we can with what we have, hoping to keep just enough flesh that no one has “a bone to pick with us.”

 

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Became

Became: (v) past tense of begin to beDictionary B

5:52 A. M.

Groggy, but awake.

In no particular hurry to start the day nor motivated to grab my pillow and embrace additional slumber.

So I think.

I think about what I became.

Because if we don’t stop every once in a while and review the journey, we will fail to acknowledge the value of the miles.

There was never anything special about me. Growing up in a very small town, quality was measured in tiny increments so as to give everybody a chance to be honored.

But especially when I found myself moving into larger villages and then cities, my talent was often weighed in the balances and found wanting.

At that point I had a choice: I could give up, or I could give out.

Giving up was finding a perch suitably small enough to make my offering seem valuable.

Giving out, on the other hand, was admitting lack and trying to find how much grit and mortar I had inside, to build a better possibility.

On those mornings when I awake early, without need of leaping into action, I like to look at what I became:

  • Overweight
  • Under-educated
  • Moderately attractive
  • And sufficiently disguised

Still, I have mustered a life complete with family, fundamentals and a future.

It’s pretty remarkable.

So if any young person would ask me what the key is to success, I would reply very simply, “Stop looking for it. Start doing a daily evaluation … and celebrate what you became.”

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Androgynous

dictionary with letter A

Androgynous: (adj) Partly male and partly female in appearance; of indeterminate sex.

It’s just one of those issues.

Yes–a contentious idea that causes the liberals and conservatives to hide in the weeds, giggling, waiting to see what stance you might take, so they can proclaim you either friend or enemy.

Such is the term androgynous.

Will I appease the conservatives by acting like I have a semi-sympathetic heart about those who “choose” to have such an appearance, while secretly I’m laughing at them with my friends behind their backs?

Or will I make the liberals rejoice by making a blanket statement of acceptance, while going off with friends and desperately trying not to bring it up again for fear of being judgmental?

Sometimes I grow weary of the battle between clown philosophies–“clown” in the sense that you feel the need to don a costume and exaggerate your features so as to prove your allegiance to the cause.

Concerning this word, I need look no further than myself:

I am a fat, white man of German descent. For some inexplicable reason, I have no hair on my legs or chest. Being overweight, I have pectorals that occasionally could pass for girly, sixteen-year-old breasts. My skin is not rough and I’m not a tumbling sort. Yet I fathered five children and still prefer women instead of men.

If I were walking around a locker room with a bunch of macho individuals, I might appear, in some ways, to be a bit more “ladylike” than they are. Yet some of them would be more comfortable, welcome and visually acceptable in a gorilla cage.

What does it all mean? I don’t know.

But I am certain of one immutable fact: the more we try to identify each other visually, by outward appearance, the less we have the eyesight of God.

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