Tag Archives: vegetables

Dairy

Dairy: (n) a shop or company that sells milk, butter, cheese, etc.

 It is easy to be health conscious if you’re negating a food you dislike.

I can stop eating frog legs tomorrow.

I have no problem rejecting the value of collard greens.

But when it comes to foods I enjoy I may agree with the prissy righteousness of those who reject them but maintain some faith in my heart for private moments—when I succumb to the temptation to partake.

Actually, food is very simple.

If it occurs naturally—that is, in its present form—you can eat it.

For instance, a cow, cut up into steaks, is not a natural occurrence. Although I may wish to lobby for that cause, cows are supposed to come put together, not butchered.

On the other hand fruits, nuts, berries, vegetables and those sorts of offerings, are right out there in front of God, you, me and every bird of the sky.

That takes us to dairy.

Cow’s milk was never meant to be drunk by anybody but calves, just as human milk was intended for our little bambinoes. But then it deteriorates. Taking that milk, skimming off the fattest portions to make cream, then butter and ending up with cheese is many false evolutionary steps from natural.

This is why these foods are delicious—by devilish design.

I grew up in a generation that believed that milk was good for you and built strong bones. But it wasn’t actually the milk, but the calcium, which is also found aplenty…in broccoli.

 

Cuisine

Cuisine: (n) a style or quality of cooking

The things that tickle me might make one believe that I’m a cynic (if you didn’t know how adorable I am).

I can barely contain myself from laughing out loud when people pronounce the word “cuisine,” putting as much French pastry in their accent as possible.

“Cuisine” is all part of this notion that people on Earth are different from one another because of their preferences. Actually, it seems we are still trying to divide one another up like a box of Crayolas, by color. Oh, people throw a fit when they hear me say that. We all want to believe we’re enlightened and free of prejudice.

But let me tell you something very simple about cuisine:

All the people of the Earth, in their diet, have a bread, a potato-like substance, and a meat.

How they make their bread or what their potato looks like or what meat they may choose depends on what’s available.

I could travel all over the world and have no problem at all.

I would just ask, “So what is your bread, what is your potato and what is your meat?”

I think cuisine becomes interesting due to the fact that we can appreciate how each human being (who is so much like us) chooses his or her way to fill their plate.

Honestly, there are a few exceptions, but most cultures are not that fond of green, leafy vegetables, and even eat fruit only on special occasions.

Certainly if they eat more of these fruits and vegetables, they’re healthier, but that doesn’t stop the Arab, the Israeli or the Russian from favoring their particular cholesterol-filled animal flesh.

In addition, every cuisine has its version of a sweet sauce, a barbecue sauce, a catsup and a mustard.

Check it out. You’ll find it hilarious.

So if you ever find yourself going to a restaurant where they’re serving the cuisine of Africa, just take a moment and taste some things.

Pretty soon you will find on your plate their interpretation of French fries, a roll with butter and a hamburger.

 

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Collect

Collect: (v) to bring or gather things

I collect.

I grab my basket and step into life, picking up things that suit my fancy, meet my needs or stir my soul.

From democracy I collect the value of personal freedom.

I collect a wisp of meditation from the Buddhists.

I collect tenderness, mercy and endurance from my sisters.

I collect devotion to country from communist China.

I realize the danger of eating too much pork from my Muslim brethren.

I collect the value of play from the children encircling me.

I collect my thoughts by rejecting my prejudices.

I collect the true history of my life by quieting the ideas I wish to promote.

I collect fruits and vegetables at a good price at Aldi.

I collect the power of the Golden Rule from my friend, Jesus.

I collect a searching, inquiring and probing mind from my atheist friends.

I collect a respect of science from God.

And I collect a respect for God from science.

I collect things that other people think are meaningless so I can have a personal treasure in my heart.

I collect a respect for things old, current and even those things which sniff of the future.

I stand in awe of Earth as I collect my trash and throw it in the garbage instead of allowing it to go “blowin’ in the wind.”

I collect my anger and force it into a small box, where it doesn’t think it is bigger than it actually is.

I collect those little boxes of anger and open them up in my private times to address the concerns.

I collect passion for my dreams.

And I collect dreams to welcome passion.

I am a collector.

Not much of what I collect has a dollar value.

Yet all of what I collect is valuable.

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Collaborate

Collaborate: (v) to work jointly on an activity, especially to produce or create something.

A pot of soup is a collaboration.

So is a deli tray.

Yet there is a massive difference between the two.

No one takes a bite of soup and comments on the beauty of the onion. It is a completed, dissolved entity, where all collaborations of flavors work toward a
common title: SOUP.

On the other hand, a deli tray has cheese, meats, vegetables with dip and maybe even some tomatoes. They lie side by side, collaborating, but simultaneously promoting themselves.

Once upon a time in a land they called the New World, people of all nationalities arrived on the shore of a budding wilderness and worked together to make “one nation under God, indivisible.”

When the need arose to provide “liberty and justice for all,” it became necessary that we melt into one another instead of segregating off into our individual portions on some sort of national deli tray.

The success of this country is based upon how well we have done that.

Right now it appears that our collaboration is a Dutch oven of boiling water, with all the ingredients sitting on the stove, waiting to be placed inside–a merger.

Instead, we put it off and we just boil.

Nothing cooks together.

Nothing flavors another.

We try to be a soup but we still resemble a deli tray.

Sooner or later, great collaboration demands that we drop into the pan and disappear, to form the “one perfect union.”

 

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Cauliflower

Cauliflower: (n) a cabbage of a variety that bears a large immature flower head

“I don’t like vegetables.”

A typical complaint shared by an average adult.

It doesn’t make any difference that vegetables are healthy. Somewhere along the line, we’ve convinced ourselves that our opinions on all
 matters reign supreme and might even move the God of heaven to alter His efforts.

People say:

  • “I don’t like traffic jams.”
  • “I don’t like long lines at the DMV.”
  • “I don’t like people noticing my weight gain.”

One after another, we express our disapproval for common portions of everyday life.

Since vegetables work very hard to keep us alive, we might at least take a moment and try to figure out some way to consume them.

Cauliflower is a friendly one. It can be riced, diced, cut up, slivered, fried, baked, dipped and nearly disappear into any variety of dishes.

It also is white–so you don’t have to worry about the “fear of the green.”

It happens to be delicious if you mash it, and does a remarkable job of imitating the potato.

It’s time to grow up. The childish little whine of “I don’t like it” needs to be followed by the adult counter of, “But I will find a way to enjoy it.”

Without that, we spend our whole lives childish–minus the advantage of remaining cute.

 

 

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Broth

j-r-practix-with-border-2

Broth: (n) soup consisting of meat or vegetable chunks, and often rice, cooked in stock.

Although it may seem bewildering, it is one of my fondest memories.

I was in the midst of one of my festering needs to lose weight and had fasted for about a day-and-a-half (though at the time I would have insisted it was two).Dictionary B

I was hungry.

You see, as a fat man, I never allow myself to become hungry. The presence of food is the ushering in of appetite.

I’ve never been able to consider the consumption of calories to be nutrition for survival, but rather, a pleasure I grant myself in large quantities, to confirm that I have the power to relish what is available.

Bluntly, I’m never starved. I just eat.

On this particular occasion, though, I actually gained the pangs, the passion and the purpose to receive food.

My body was growing weaker and weaker, and threatened to shut down in protest over my abstinence from meals.

Yet there was a thirty-minute passage of time when I felt more alive than I had ever felt before. I needed something–and was fully aware that I was about to receive it.

I was really famished.

I sensed a yearning rather than a burning.

And when I sat down at the end of that half-an-hour, to steaming broth with floating pieces of carrot and rice, smelling of chicken, I will tell you it was probably the most delicious delicacy I have ever devoured.

It had fragrance, taste and promise.

I’ve often wondered why I can’t return to that same fervency of appreciation.

Because on that day, a bowl of broth tasted to me like heavenly manna.

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Annuity

dictionary with letter A

Annuity: (n) a fixed sum of money paid to someone each year, typically for the rest of his or her life.

In my saner moments–in other words, when I’m more sane–I actually come to conclusions that are factual instead of impudent.

Because when I read the definition of “annuity,” I thought how wonderful it would be to have somebody who would present me with a check on January 1st which would cover my expenses and frivolous notions for an entire calendar year.

Trying to be noble, I would say that this would make me more productive because the fear of financial failure would be lifted from my shoulders.

But then candor enters my tattered soul and I have to admit that this would make me nothing but lazy.

  • After all, without a bit of uncertainty, I don’t work as hard.
  • Without a tinge of peril to my health, I might stop eating vegetables.
  • Without some insecurity about my love relationships, I might doze off on my commitments and cease to be interactive with the kind souls around me.

Yes, even though I don’t want to admit it, I am a better human being because things are occasionally screwed up. Not only are they defiled by my efforts, but many of them are ruined by my friends, associates and just flukes of nature.

I become more proficient and appreciative because I have to adjust and correct errors. Sometimes jubilance comes to my heart because I have miraculously figured out how to make ten dollars work like twelve.

Without this, I become a “kept man,” a prisoner to the generosity of others instead of the beneficiary of my own talent.

So even though I am not so virtuous as to turn down such an annuity if it was offered to me (hint, hint) I am fully prepared on this lovely day, to concede … that I am better off without it. 

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Advise

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter A

Advise: (v) to offer suggestions about the best course of action to someone

You can spend your time lamenting why things are the way they are, or you can learn how they are and make clever adjustments to try to restore them to normalcy.

That’s the truth.

So with that in mind, let me tell you that giving advice is similar to playing tennis with a third leg protruding from the middle of your back. At first you might think it’s a good idea, but when you get out there, hittin’ the ball, you pretty much want to reach back there and yank the thing off.

Let me say it loud and risk the critique of those around me: Americans don’t take advice. So don’t advise them. They feign interest. They pretend to be intrigued if they think you have enough clout to be worthy of their ears, but they will just as quickly leave the room and go do things exactly the way they envisioned.

So here is my idea of what to do when the instinct to advise begins to tickle at the corners of your conscience:

  1. Find out what people really want to do and understand it thoroughly.
  2. Discover what parts of their aspiration are dangerous, illegal or stupid.
  3. Don’t share these discoveries with them directly.
  4. Take the balance of what is not self-destructive in the plan and encourage it heavily.

There you go.

Even though there is conventional wisdom which says there is great benefit in a multitude of counselors, this is only true if you listen to them. Since listening is not only a lost art, but more like a Nazi book burning–totally rejected by most people as they dance around the fire–it’s a good idea to establish a pattern of encouragement for smart while ignoring stupid.

  • If we did this in politics, for example, we could soon eliminate bad ideas by giving them no air play.
  • If we did it in religion, the better parts of God which benefit humankind, could be thrust to the forefront, while ignoring abstract traditions.
  • And if we did it in our personal lives, we would soon find that the weird things we’re pursuing are actually rather boring in the long run, and we could turn vegetables into candy. (Well, I went too far there. But at least we could find things to pour over vegetables which would make them edible.)

So you can feel free to ask for advice, but you must understand that folks expect you to heed it.

The best thing to do is to pay close attention to what works, what blesses, what enhances and what uplifts … and try to do that again tomorrow.