The Twelve Days of Christnukkah—A Poem For Everyone

 On the First day of Christnukkah my true love sent to me

A Star of David On A Pine Tree.

 

On the Second day of Christnukkah my true love sent to me

Two Challah Loaves (With spectacular braiding!)

And A Star of David On A Pine Tree.

 

On the Third day of Christnukkah my true love sent to me

Three Wise Men,

Two Challah Loaves,

And A Star of David On A Pine Tree.

 

On the Fourth day of Christnukkah my true love sent to me

Four Kvetching Yentas,

Three Wise Men, Two Challah Loaves,

And A Star of David On A Pine Tree.

 

On the Fifth day of Christnukkah my true love sent to me

(Sing along and hold that last note…) Five Gold Coins,

(And the chocolate inside the gelt was delicious!)

Four Kvetching Yentas, Three Wise Men, Two Challah Loaves,

And A Star of David On A Pine Tree.

 

On the Sixth day of Christnukkah my true love sent to me

Six Angels Praying,

Five Gold Coins (Hold that note…),

Four Kvetching Yentas, Three Wise Men, Two Challah Loaves,

And A Star of David On A Pine Tree.

 

On the Seventh day of Christnukkah my true love sent to me

Seven Dreidels Spinning (He made them out of clay.)

Six Angels Praying, Five Gold Coins (Keep holding that note!),

Four Kvetching Yentas, Three Wise Men, Two Challah Loaves,

And A Star of David On A Pine Tree.

 

On the Eighth day of Christnukkah my true love sent to me

Eight Menorah Lights Burning,

Seven Dreidels Spinning, Six Angels Praying,

Five Gold Coins, (Holding, holding…),

Four Kvetching Yentas, Three Wise Men, Two Challah Loaves,

And A Star of David On A Pine Tree.

 

On the Ninth day of Christnukkah my true love sent to me

Nine Reindeer Prancing (Can’t forget Rudolph…) (And just keep singing!)

Eight Menorah Lights Burning, Seven Dreidels Spinning, Six Angels Praying,

Five Gold Coins, (Still holding, holding…),

Four Kvetching Yentas, Three Wise Men, Two Challah Loaves,

And A Star of David On A Pine Tree.

 

On the Tenth day of Christnukkah my true love sent to me

Ten Bells A-Jingling,

Nine Reindeer Prancing, Eight Menorah Lights Burning,

Seven Dreidels Spinning, Six Angels Praying,

(You know the drill by now) Five Gold Coins,

Four Kvetching Yentas, Three Wise Men, Two Challah Loaves,

And A Star of David On A Pine Tree.

 

On the Eleventh day of Christnukkah my true love sent to me

Eleven Latkes with Applesauce,

(And away we go!) Ten Bells A-Jingling, Nine Reindeer Prancing,

Eight Menorah Lights Burning, Seven Dreidels Spinning, Six Angels Praying,

Five Gold Coins, (Holding, holding, holding),

Four Kvetching Yentas, Three Wise Men, Two Challah Loaves,

And A Star of David On A Pine Tree.

 

On the Twelfth day of Christnukkah my true love sent to me

Twelve Carolers Humming,

Eleven Latkes with Applesauce, Ten Bells A-Jingling, Nine Reindeer Prancing,

Eight Menorah Candles, Seven Dreidels Spinning, Six Angels Praying,

Five Gold Coins (Still holding—You’ve got this!),

Four Kvetching Yentas, Three Wise Men, Two Challah Loaves,

(Sing it loud for the grand finale!)

And A Star of David On A Pine Tree!

 

 

Copyright 2023 Business Theatre Unlimited

 

Food Tips for the Holidays

 The holidays are upon us and that means lots of meals, both at home and dining out. We almost need a PhD in Culinary Arts to plan a proper menu these days. There are some obscure food acronyms that we all should be aware of as we choose our meals. I’ll get to those later. This is a good time to reacquaint ourselves with important eating terms. Also to learn a new term that I’ve coined to better describe where today’s food issues have taken us. As a refresher, let’s start with the difference between a gourmet and gourmand.

 

A gourmet is someone who knows everything about food, especially from a historical perspective. Her palate is so discerning that she eschews any restaurant that isn’t up to her standards. She seeks out haute cuisine and rare ingredients. You may be wondering what she does when she’s a guest at a party where the hostess is not also a gourmet. Good question! A true gourmet will travel with a package of acceptable food in her purse. After excusing herself for a trip to the powder room, she nibbles just enough to keep her stomach from growling until she gets home.

 

So, how is a gourmand different from a gourmet? A gourmand is someone who enjoys eating. Period. He’ll consume anything that isn’t nailed down. More often than not, he’s a glutton with nothing discerning in his palate. You won’t find restaurants that feature small plates and tapas on his dine-around list. He’ll probably turn down invitations to holiday parties where the fare will mostly consist of grazing on light appetizers. Chances are you’ll never hear his stomach growl, though it likely hangs over his belt!

 

This brings me to the third eating term, one of my own making: the gourmaven. You make have heard the word “maven” before, perhaps as a herring maven. A maven is an expert in a particular field, someone who is proud to pass on his knowledge to others. A gourmaven differs from a gourmet in that his field of culinary expertise is focused on the latest trends. Gourmets usually share their knowledge only as a way to show off their own expertise. A gourmaven keeps informed of all the new food information and trends and shares them freely.

 

Let’s start with some food items that a gourmaven should understand. You might already know about one of them, and that’s kombucha. I kept seeing it but I didn’t have a clue what it was. This is what my research turned up. Kombucha tea is a fermented, lightly effervescent, black tea that supposedly has health benefits. Kombucha is a SCOBY (symbiotic culture of bacteria and yeast). I still don’t have a clue what it is, but I suggest we become familiar with the acronym, just in case there’s a test somewhere.

 

I also see a lot about bone broth these days. It supposedly offers many health benefits, especially for your joints, gut and skin. It sounds downright creepy to me, like something witches would brew in a huge black caldron. I have no plans to make my own, despite what the so-called experts recommend. And it’s not going on my shopping list, either. However, as your resident gourmaven, I’m obligated to put it on your radar.

 

This brings me to my last acronym, one I bet you’ve never seen before. FODMAPs are short-chain carbohydrates that are poorly absorbed in the small intestine. They’re likely to soak up water and to ferment in the colon. Sounds yucky? You betcha! Don’t even think about what must be going on down there when you eat FODMAPs (Fermentable Oligosaccharides, Disaccharides, Monosaccharides, and Polyols).

 

Research identifies these carbohydrates in FODMAP foods: fructose, lactose, and polyols. That’s all your fruits, your honey and corn syrup, your dairy, and your sugar alcohols. It also includes the lesser known fructans and galactans. Those are not aliens in a Star Trek movie. They’re wheat, onions, garlic and all your legumes. So much for the guidance that says to replace red meat with beans and lentils in your diet and to consume local honey to boost your immune system.

 

This completes my food tips for this holiday season. You can decide if you’d like to be a gourmet, a gourmand, a gourmaven, or just someone who appreciates a good meal. Whatever your decision, if you’re at a house party, think about pitching in to clear the table and do the dishes after you’ve indulged.

 

Copyright 2023 Business Theatre Unlimited

Foreign Terms To Live By

This month’s Retirement Sparks essay is educational. I’ve collected a number of foreign terms to help you live a better life. Some will likely be familiar; most will probably be new to you. I’ve grouped them into several categories to help you mull them over in some logical fashion.

 

The first category presents words that speak to being alone. Flâneur (from the French) is a person who lounges or strolls around in a seemingly aimless way. The flâneur is said to be a cool, aloof observer of urban society. I blogged about being a flâneur a few years ago, celebrating the surprising findings on my own aimless walk. The notion of being an aloof observer didn’t make it into my post, but I like that.

 

The Latin Solivagant is defined as wandering alone in solitude around the world. Sounds like a more far-reaching flâneur without mention of being an aloof observer.

 

The Portuguese Nefelibata (cloud-walker) seems rather judgmental. It’s someone who lives in their own dreams and not in conventional society. They might very well be found in Le Pays de Cocagne, an imaginary French place, based on luxury and idleness.

 

On the other hand, the German Waldeinsamkeit has a more noble meaning: to be alone in nature or the woods. It’s said to be spiritual solitude. I like the sound of that.

 

The second category is the opposite of aloneness, with just one word that celebrates being with others. It’s the Danish word Hygge, the warm feeling you have when enjoying great company. I’m sure there are other foreign words that celebrate togetherness, but I didn’t turn them up in my research for this essay. I wonder if hygge is where the word ‘hug’ comes from.

 

The third group talks to finding the positive in everyday life. The Swedes celebrate Njuta, the art of savoring the moment and appreciating everyday experiences. An excellent example of this would be the Japanese Komorebi, when the sun goes through the trees and the leaves filter the light.

 

The Greeks similarly value Meraki, doing something with love or soul. For them, that translates into pouring yourself into your work. The Hindi word Jijivisha is less specific, defined simply as an intense desire to get the most out of every day.

 

How we go about all this brings me to our fourth category, another with just one entry. It’s the Bulgarian word Ailyak, the subtle art of doing everything calmly and without haste. I doubt that would work for those with ADHD.

 

The fifth category is a variation on the fourth, but it doesn’t speak to time. You’ve no doubt heard of Marie Kondo. KonMari is the Japanese method of sparking joy by clearing clutter. Just the notion of decluttering makes me tingle with joy. But making it happen… well, that’s an entirely different matter.

 

The Swedish and Norwegian concept of Lagom is a more structured way to approach decluttering. It emphasizes achieving balance and maintaining a harmonious equilibrium, which is integral to the Scandinavian way of living. I don’t think a person can have lagom if their home is cluttered.

 

The final category defies classification and has just one entry, from Germany. It is so unlike what most of us would expect from the Germans that I just had to include it. The term is Fernweh, and it describes when you’re homesick for somewhere you’ve never been. It sounds more like an Italian concept to me. I’m half Italian and about a quarter German, by the way. So I’m offending both groups equally.

 

That’s the last of the foreign terms I turned up in my research. To help you integrate some of them into your own life, I’ve written a Days Of the Week ditty.

 

On Monday, do your laundry Meraki-style, with love and soul.

On Tuesday, do your ironing Ailyak-style, calmly with no haste.

On Wednesday, maximize your wardrobe with Jijivisha mending.

 

The second category is the opposite of aloneness, with just one word that celebrates being with others. It’s the Danish word Hygge, the warm feeling you have when enjoying great company. I’m sure there are other foreign words that celebrate togetherness, but I didn’t turn them up in my research for this essay. I wonder if hygge is where the word ‘hug’ comes from.

 

The third group talks to finding the positive in everyday life. The Swedes celebrate Njuta, the art of savoring the moment and appreciating everyday experiences. An excellent example of this would be the Japanese Komorebi, when the sun goes through the trees and the leaves filter the light.

 

The Greeks similarly value Meraki, doing something with love or soul. For them, that translates into pouring yourself into your work. The Hindi word Jijivisha is less specific, defined simply as an intense desire to get the most out of every day.

 

How we go about all this brings me to our fourth category, another with just one entry. It’s the Bulgarian word Ailyak, the subtle art of doing everything calmly and without haste. I doubt that would work for those with ADHD.

 

The fifth category is a variation on the fourth, but it doesn’t speak to time. You’ve no doubt heard of Marie Kondo. KonMari is the Japanese method of sparking joy by clearing clutter. Just the notion of decluttering makes me tingle with joy. But making it happen… well, that’s an entirely different matter.

 

The Swedish and Norwegian concept of Lagom is a more structured way to approach decluttering. It emphasizes achieving balance and maintaining a harmonious equilibrium, which is integral to the Scandinavian way of living. I don’t think a person can have lagom if their home is cluttered.

 

The final category defies classification and has just one entry, from Germany. It is so unlike what most of us would expect from the Germans that I just had to include it. The term is Fernweh, and it describes when you’re homesick for somewhere you’ve never been. It sounds more like an Italian concept to me. I’m half Italian and about a quarter German, by the way. So I’m offending both groups equally.

 

That’s the last of the foreign terms I turned up in my research. To help you integrate some of them into your own life, I’ve written a Days Of the Week ditty.

 

On Monday, do your laundry Meraki-style, with love and soul.

On Tuesday, do your ironing Ailyak-style, calmly with no haste.

On Wednesday, maximize your wardrobe with Jijivisha mending.

On Thursday, do not churn; just enjoy Lagom equilibrium.

On Friday, let KonMari inspire you to declutter and clean.

On Saturday, bake and savor the day Njuta-style.

On Sunday, rest à la Nefelibata. Live on clouds in your dreams.

 

On Thursday, do not churn; just enjoy Lagom equilibrium.

On Friday, let KonMari inspire you to declutter and clean.

On Saturday, bake and savor the day Njuta-style.

On Sunday, rest à la Nefelibata. Live on clouds in your dreams.

 

Don’t expect to find this embroidered on panties, but I might get it put on a dish towel.

 

 

Copyright 2023 Business Theatre Unlimited

The Great Gender Pronouns Debate

September is my birthday month and it seems like a good time to jump in on the debate over gender pronouns. If you’ve noticed emails or letters with “she/her” or “he/him” after the name of the person who sent the message, you’ve already been touched by this debate. It’s gained fairly wide acceptance rather quickly and has likely left many of you wondering what the heck it’s all about.

 

I’m not sure who or what started it. Perhaps androgynous young people did. Or those transitioning from one sex to another. Whatever the answer, a common solution seems to be to refer to everyone as “they/them” even in the singular. If you don’t want to be a “they,” be sure to put “she” or “he” after your name.

 

I can remember when the great gender-related debate was whether to refer to a woman as “Miss” or “Ms” if you knew she wasn’t married. It didn’t take long for “Mrs” to be replaced by “Ms,” too. “Mr” had survived the fray until recently. Now that’s up for grabs as well. The other day I saw a signature line on something written by a man that had “Mx” on it. That’s one way to duck the issue.

 

So, what other options do we have other than “they/them”? How about just “it”? “It” has served us well for time immemorial as a way to reference something of an unknown sex. Ditto for using “the uni,” short for unisex. Here’s another option, one I haven’t heard used before: “the neut.” That’s supposed to refer to something that’s had the sex it was born with removed. That seems to be the reason some people jettison the “she/her” and “he/him” options (not literally). If you just want to confuse people, go with she/him and he/her, alternating genders.

 

Language isn’t the only place where gender is in play. Baby showers now usually include a gender-reveal feature. Sometimes the baby’s sex is shown via pink or blue layers of a cake. Often a huge balloon is popped and colored confetti rains down. Some couples spend a lot on elaborate reveals. I hope the babies will be comfortable with the pronouns they’ll be born to live with. Thoughtful parents could consider preserving their children’s options by combining both colors in their reveals, the equivalent of “they,” with a caveat that there are not twins on the way.

 

In this sex-aware culture, another gender feature occurred to me. I never thought about it until now, but belly buttons could be considered to have genders, too. Innies would be female; outies would be male. (Visualize that for a minute.) This may sound crazy, but is it really any more ridiculous than referring to a single person as “they”?

 

When I was getting ready for college, my father and I put together a hi-fi system for me using a Heathkit. He was explaining the connector cables to me, but we didn’t have those yet. He said that the male end would go in the back of one of the items (I forget which now) and the female end would attach to something else. I foolishly asked him how I would know which end of the cable was the male.

 

It would have been so easy for him to just wiggle his pointer finger at me, and then poke it into his loose fist. Instead, he turned purple, got out the Heath catalog and turned to the cable page. He stammered something as he pointed to one of the pictures. The light bulb went on over my head, and I assured him I now understood. I can’t tell you how relieved he was!

 

Who knows where this gender pronouns debate will lead over time. Will baby clothes that are considered specifically female or male be shunned? There are already a plethora of names that are so unisex they offer no clue to the gender of the person who bears them. In fact, one of the websites that ranks baby names by popularity added a unisex column to its lists two years ago. Picture this: You peer into a carriage at a newborn in a yellow onesie. You don’t want to ask the baby’s sex, so you ask “their” name. It’s Taylor or Morgan. Good luck with that.

 

Somehow there needs to be a stop to this gender pronouns debate before it gets completely out of control. I don’t have any idea how to do that. If you have a suggestion, feel free to send it to me, Elaine Decker, I/me.

 

Copyright 2023 Business Theatre Unlimited

Barbie Mania

 Barbie Mania is running rampant. Her movie launched the same weekend as the mega hit Oppenheimer, creating the phenomenon dubbed “Barbenheimer.” Their weekend sales set records. Barbie had the highest-grossing debut of 2023 during the fourth-largest U.S. box office weekend of all time. Mattel, Inc. officially debuted Barbie in 1959 at the American International Toy Fair in NYC. That was the year I entered high school, so I never owned a Barbie doll and I don’t plan to see the movie.

Five actresses graced a Time magazine cover in July; they share the Barbie role. They’re all tall and thin but only one looks anything like the iconic doll. My husband said the cover reminded him of the sixties British model, Twiggy. Other than the tall and thin of it, I didn’t see Twiggy at all. I made a gangly Twiggedy Ann doll for my broher-in-law’s niece when I was in college. The doll had short, yellow yarn hair and a pink button nose and looked more like Twiggy than the women on the Time cover.

The quintet of actresses on that cover were selected to represent incarnations of Barbie over the decades. She began in Palm Springs and evolved to the White House, reflecting changing ideas about girls. You can still find classic blonde Barbies, but there are also Black, LatinX, Asian and trans ones. She’s been said to have an ingratiating smile and impossible curves, not to mention ample boobs. I don’t know if the actresses meet all those criteria, but based on the Time photo, at least three have the boob thing covered.

It’s not just in theaters that the movie has caused Barbie Mania. Retailers have hopped on the Barbie bus, too. Their merchandise and store displays are drenched in pink and fuchsia. Medical techs are now padding around their facilities in fuchsia Crocs. Can pink hair be far behind?

The doll I remember most from my childhood is Ideal’s Toni. I have one in my collection. She pre-dated Barbie by about a decade. The original Toni had long blonde hair and long thin legs, but she wasn’t a fashion doll. Home hair perms appeared in the early 1950’s. The Toni brand was especially popular. It was promoted with the Toni doll and Tonette, a home perm kit for little girls, just like their mother's.

 

My mother permed her hair at home. When Tonette came out, she decided to perm mine, too. Have you ever smelled the curling solution from the fifties? If so, you’ll know that this was a “misery loves company” move on my mother’s part. More about that later. If the smell wasn’t bad enough, the kinky curls it left me with added injury to insult. I have a school picture to prove it.

 

The beautiful Toni doll made my experience with Tonette worthwhile. The Ideal Toy Company made the doll from 1949–1953. The other saving grace is that they also provided little paper dolls. I was very much into those. I searched for some on eBay, but the only ones available seemed to all be laser cut reproductions.

I have a real Toni doll in her original dress. I sold the blonde one, but I still have a brunette. Why would I settle for repro paper ones? The doll was one of the most popular ever made. They generally sell for up to $50 if they’re in good condition in nice dresses. Even without Barbie Mania, vintage Barbies fetched several thousand dollars, especially if they were very old or were in an unusual outfit. They’re probably worth more now.

Smelly home perms weren’t the only torture my mother subjected me to. She had a home beauty treatment to take care of the mustache that Brunettes have on their upper lip. Never mind that I was too young to have noticeable hair there. In another example of “misery loves company,” when my mother bleached her own mustache, she had me do mine. We made a paste probably with amonia and peroxide. I don’t recall exactly. It smelled terrible, burned like hell, and my mustache looked the same when I was done.

 

I’ll bet Barbie never had to bleach her mustache. Ken would probably have been too preoccupied staring at her boobs to notice a mustache anyway.

 

Copyright 2023 Business Theatre Unlimited.

Planning for the Beach After Years of Not Going

 

 

Summer is here and many folks are making plans for their visits to the beach. That usually means the seashore. I grew up in a lake community and we lived there all year round. I never developed an attraction for the ocean. All that sticky salt and sand in places I won’t mention here. It’s been years since I even thought about going to a beach. The older that I got, the less my body seemed to want to be seen in a bathing suit.

 

Something changed this year. For reasons that I won’t take space explaining, I lost at least twenty pounds this Spring. Rest easy; it wasn’t because of a major health issue, though I’ve had several of those. I like the way I look and feel, so I’m continuing with my new lifestyle. I have an entire wardrobe of smaller sizes that had been waiting for me to come to my senses. There was even an old bathing suit in the bottom of one box.

 

I assume that styles haven’t changed much in the past however many decades. The condo community where we live has a pool. Maybe it’s time for me to take the plunge–literally. As if the swimming gods were listening, one of my daily electronic newsletters had this hard-to-believe article in it. Panera is launching a line of swimsuits. Yes, Panera. And yes, swimsuits. They’re brightly colored, with prints inspired by popular items on their “pick two” menu. As with the menu, you’re encouraged to mix and match.

 

The “beloved Panera menu items” mentioned in the media announcement for the swimwear are the classic Grilled Cheese, Broccoli Cheddar and Tomato Soups and their Chipotle Chicken Avocado Sandwich. Just one salad was listed: the Strawberry Poppyseed. That probably means my swimwear will be adorned with broccoli, avocados and strawberries. That takes care of the motifs, but it leaves the actual bathing suit shapes.

 

Lord help me. I have trouble picking two off the Panera menu. Now I’ll have to pick two items of swimwear. (Their one-piece will never work for me.) For lunch, I usually wind up with my default chicken Caesar salad. I have no idea what the bathing suit equivalent of that would be, and that will just be the start of what I’ll need for a trip to a beach or pool. I’ll need pool-appropriate footwear and a beach cover up. And a very large towel and a tote to stuff everything into.

 

I can’t forget sun block; I’ll have to research what SPF number is required for my age group. And I’ll want a nice bodice ripper paperback to read, the kind you find in airport gift shops, ones with a bare chested hunk on the cover, but not Fabio. And not Fifty Shades of Gray. I’ve read all of those; they were retirement gifts from a female friend. The book choice could be a project in and of itself.

 

Then there’s the matter of the shave. The big shave. Stopping at the knees will not do for a body in a bathing suit. Not to mention clearing the weeds out from under my armpits. Upper legs and pits are not areas I typically worry about at my age. Come to think of it, there really aren’t any body areas that I pay much attention to these days.

 

I’m beginning to realize why I haven’t made any trips to a beach or pool in decades. It will be a miracle if I make it there this summer. I might as well do the appropriate planning, just in case, starting with a new bathing suit. I’m thinking of mixing and matching the Panera shorts with their tank top. A T-shirt would cover my bat wings better, but I didn’t see one of those in the Panera collection. It looks like the shorts and tank are offered with broccoli and strawberries motifs. Those should do.

 

I’ll also need to pick up sun block. Whatever I have around the house is undoubtedly past its sell-by date and it might not even be strong enough. Most of the other items on my list can be found at the bottom of a closet somewhere. That still leaves picking out a trashy paperback to take with me. I wonder if Amazon has a category for those. I’m open to suggestions, by the way.

 

I had no idea that planning for the beach after years of not going would be so stressful. It looks like I’m going to need a nice glass of wine. Or two.

 

Copyright 2023 Business Theatre Unlimited

Earworms from the Past

 A few days ago I was struggling to brush my teeth. My dominant hand is still partially paralyzed. The toothpaste kept rolling off the brush. When I was in marketing at Colgate Palmolive, one of my assignments was in oral care. I learned that the brushing action and flossing are actually more important than the product. Put another way, I remembered that a “little dab will do you.”

 

Suddenly, I became captive of an earworm from the past, with the jingle: “Brylcreem, a little dab ‘ll do ya!” burrowing into my ear. “Brylcreem, you look so debonair! Brylcreem, the girls will all pursue ya. They love to get their fingers in your hair.” That wasn’t a Colgate brand, but as it happens, another of my product assignments included Wildroot, which had its own jingle. “Get Wildroot Cream oil, Charlie! It keeps your hair in trim.” Now I had two competing earworms. And they were fighting for ear time with a jingle that’s all over TV that I can’t un-hear: “1-877-Kars-4-Kids.”

 

If that weren’t bad enough, when I cut the banana onto my cereal, I saw that it had a Chiquita sticker on it. I didn’t even try to suppress that classic ditty. What was worse, I started to remember additional popular jingles from the past, starting with other Colgate products. “Use Ajax, the foaming cleanser. B-b-boom. Floats the dirt right down the drain.” Then I moved on to non-Colgate ones. “Mr. Clean gets rid of dirt and grime and grease in just a minute. Mr. Clean will clean your whole house and everything that’s in it.” I wish.

 

Fortunately, not every brand I worked on in my ten years in marketing there had a jingle. But that didn’t stop my tumble down the rabbit hole of earworm memories. Colgate marketed Hebrew National hot dogs, but “I wish I were an Oscar Meyer wiener” is what got stuck in my ear. And I don’t even like hot dogs. After eating one, I’d probably need Alka-Seltzer: “Plop plop fizz fizz. Oh, what a relief it is.” (Except when it’s become an earworm.)

 

Not all of these jingles are tied to products. Some come to us from TV shows, especially ones from our youth. “It’s Howdy Doody time; it’s Howdy Doody time… It’s time to start the show; so kids, let’s go!” Or how about the still popular: “M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E! Mickey Mouse, Mickey Mouse. Come along and sing a song and join the jamboree!” Or “Happy trails to you, until we meet again. Happy trails to you, keep smiling until then.” I had such a crush on Roy Rogers! Also on Robin Hood. But he didn’t have a theme song.

 

How about other entertainment. “Take me out to the ball game. Take me out with the crowd. Buy me some peanuts and cracker jacks. I don’t care if I never get back.” Or the iconic “I don’t wanna grow up, I’m a Toys R Us kid.” Then there are all those classic folk songs that get stuck on repeat whenever you hear them. “If I had a hammer, I’d hammer in the morning.” “Where have all the flowers gone?”

 

Lots of pop songs from the past can become earworms. Who can forget “One, two, three o’clock, four o’clock rock… Gonna rock around the clock tonight.” Or drift off to “Wake up, little Susie, wake up.” Meanwhile, we were “Wasting away in Margaritaville. Looking for my lost shaker of salt.” Notice that the pop songs that become earworms are seldom ballads. We aren’t meant to fall asleep while we’re being tormented.

 

More likely than not, your vintage earworms vary with the seasons. In the summer, songs by the Beach Boys blanket your brain; “Under the boardwalk” and “Surfin’ U.S.A.” Around the holidays, songs about Christmas, Santa Claus, and “Rudolph, the red nosed reindeer” have your ears ringing. Even in Spring, you’ll have “…Peter Cottontail, hopping down the bunny trail.”

 

By now you are probably being tormented by earworms of your own. I’d apologize for doing this to you, but misery loves company. The only advice I can offer you is to pass them on to someone else. Everyone must have a jingle lurking in their past, waiting to be set free. If not, give them one of your own. Or just remind them that a little dab will do them.

 

Copyright 2023 Business Theatre Unlimited

Medical Whack-A-Mole

Recently I learned that one of my band mates had died, apparently quite suddenly. None of us knew he was seriously ill. It occurred to me that with all the health issues I’ve been dealing with over the past few years, my demise would hardly come as a surprise. More likely friends would wonder: “Which ailment was it that finally got her?”

 

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I’ve been playing Medical Whack-A-Mole. When I finally get one illness under control, another one pops up to take its place. Many times, it was the treatment for the first that caused the next one. Let’s start with my lung cancer, which was diagnosed about two and a half years ago. I entered a clinical trial through Yale, in which I received regular infusions of three drugs: two chemo therapy and an immunotherapy, plus study pills that might have been a placebo.

 

The program was to last two years, but one year into it, I developed pneumonitis, a severe inflammation of the lung. My oncologist and my pulmonologist agreed that the likely cause was one of the drugs I was getting. There was no simple way to know which one. Pulling any of them would take me out of the study in any case, so we stopped my cancer therapy completely.

 

Mercifully, it appeared that the year of treatment had halted the cancer before the pneumonitis popped up like a mole. We whacked that sucker back down with a heavy course of Prednisone. For those of you not familiar with it, Prednisone is a steroid. I was on it for weeks, but it cleared up most of the lung inflammation. It’s a go-to treatment for many ailments.  I’ve concluded that it’s one of three things every household needs on hand, along with duct tape and WD-40.

 

But true to my Whack-A-Mole analogy, the Prednisone gave me a major face rash and I blew up like the Pillsbury Doughboy. I also developed edema in my feet and lower legs. An ultrasound made sure the fluid retention wasn’t due to vein leakage and that I had no blood clots. The edema was just another mole that popped up when we used the steroids to whack something else.

 

An online search led me to taking high supplements of magnesium to reduce water retention. Sadly that whack led to a pop up mole of severe diarrhea. Needless to say, I decided to live with the fluid build up. Fortunately, shortly after the course of steroids was completed, that problem disappeared. Unfortunately, it did not mean I was headed for clear sailing with my health.

 

Even with the pneumonitis under control, I was increasingly short of breath. Tests performed by my pulmonologist turned up two new “moles” to whack. Turns out I have a paralyzed right diaphragm muscle, usually caused by an injury. In my case, there’s no clue why and it might never be normal again. A few weeks of physical therapy could help. More on that later.

 

The other “mole” was pleural effusion, a build up of fluid around the lung. That was drained via a thoracentesis procedure. My breathing improved immediately. Nevertheless, my pulmonologist prescribed a steroidal inhaler to keep my airways clear. The mole from that turned out to be a side effect of some hoarseness, but I can live with that. Back to the pulmonary rehab, which I had two afternoons a week.

 

The rehab included education and light stretching, leg and arm exercises, followed by time on a treadmill. At each session, the treadmill speed and time were increased, but never to anything too stressful. The morning after what would be my last session, I woke up with horrific neck and back pain. Plus I also had a partly paralyzed right hand. I assumed I had slept crooked and pinched a nerve, or something like that.

 

When the pain persisted for days, I made several appointments with specialists. The last was with a neurologist, who has ordered several tests. He also prescribed Gabapentin to address the nerve pain. It has serious mole-like side effects. You can get tired and dizzy, so I take it only late at night.

 

I feel like I’m in a fairy tale. If I stopped dying my hair, I’d be Snow White, but I’m already most of the Seven Dwarfs. Allergy season has me Sneezy. Though I’m certainly never Bashful, much of today’s news leaves me feeling Dopey. I ask so many questions of my physicians that I might as well be a Doc. Gabapentin leaves me Snoozy and Dizzy. Despite spending most of my time playing Medical Whack-A-Mole, I’m rarely Grumpy and I’m usually Happy. I won’t ask for more than that.

 

Copyright 2023 Business Theatre Unlimited

Retro Is In Eye of Beholder

Lately we’ve seen a lot of mentions of retro in the media. Generally it’s in reference to clothing styles, but other categories have also appeared. Here’s some framework for the term “retro.” It typically refers to items and styles that are between 20 and 40 years old or so. Using today as a benchmark, that means from 1983 to 2003.

 

You might be wondering what the difference is between “retro” and “vintage”.  As a rule, vintage items are authentic of the period in question. Retro items are derivative; they’re new items that imitate the vintage period. I’m going to keep this simple and just use retro, which in my opinion is in the eye of the beholder anyway. Despite what fashion magazines are saying, in my eyes styles from 1990 aren’t retro.

 

From my vantage point, the nineties were forward looking. One magazine described four “retro” pants styles, all “non-skinny.” They cited wide leg, flared, cargo, and straight leg denim and leather. You need to go back to the seventies to find my retro pants: bell bottoms!

 

If you really want retro, look at the first wave of tie-dyes (especially if you went to San Francisco or Woodstock). Tie-dye is a good example of a trend that is retro for younger folks when you look at styles from the nineties, but truly retro for me, from when the Beatles inspired authentic Indian tie-dye. My husband imported tie-dyed styles from India in the seventies for his company India Imports of Rhode Island.

 

A lot of the 70s fashion revolved around hippies. You had peasant blouses, ponchos, hippie sandals and maxi dresses. I had a Gunne Sax maxi (by Jessica McClintock) that I bought in San Francisco, and Olaf Daughters of Sweden clogs that I bought in the West Village in New York City. Gen Xer 90s retro includes shin-length slip dresses. Today’s “retro” clogs wouldn’t have cut the mustard in the seventies. Doc Martens are said to making a comeback. I bought mine in the forward-looking nineties; now they’re being called retro. Mine were red and I wore them to death.

 

I just saw a report that flip up eyeglasses from the seventies are coming back. I confess, I don’t even remember those from the first time around. The glasses I picture from the seventies are John Lennon’s little round wire frames. They never went away, so I guess I shouldn’t really call them retro.

 

Moving away from clothes, there are so many other iconic retro items. There’s the classic Volkswagon bus. My brother used his as a camper and I made him fancy curtains for it. The website rugs.com informs us: “Shag rugs have made a comeback in a huge way. What was once thought of as a casualty of the 70s are now popular again…” It’s still a risky floor covering for anyone with pets who are prone to throwing up. My brother’s camper didn’t have rugs, but it probably saw plenty of throw up.

 

Another 70s staple that can be found on EBay is the blue cornflower pattern of Corning Ware. We have a stash of them in our cabinet. It used to be a go-to gift for bridal showers before the big stores had registries. Fondue pots were another popular shower gift back then. Raise your hand if you received at least three of those and re-gifted one of them. Lava lamps were also all the rage in the 70s.

 

Moving away from the kitchen and decor, the seventies also saw the introduction of the VHS recorder. Today’s generation is into streaming; they probably think that DVD’s are retro. But VHS is the true retro. Blockbuster has announced plans to “Rewind” and open some new stores. You read it correctly: Blockbuster. There are even vintage Blockbuster items for sale on EBay. When it comes to fun and games from the seventies, let’s not forget Rubik’s Cube, the Nerf ball and the Pet Rock.

 

My retro options mentioned here might seem to have run the gamut, but I’ve barely scratched the surface. This seems like a good place to stop and let you mull over what you would add to this list. Keep in mind that retro is in the eye of the beholder. Your retro may be from a different decade than mine. If you’re not sure, just look at some old photos and see what style of legs are on the pants you’re wearing.

 

Copyright 2023 Business Theatre Unlimited

In Praise of Soups–Stone, Bone and More

 

One of my husband’s nieces changed her eating habits to have soup for dinner every night. She lost quite a bit of weight doing that. Jagdish and I enjoy soup. Sometimes he’ll make it using one of those broths that come in boxes. More often, we’ll have a can of something from Progresso. We try to get ones with lower sodium. For whatever reason, I’ve been eating less lately. I sleep more hours, so I often have just two meals a day. One might be soup. I’ve lost 15 pounds in about 5 weeks. I don’t know if it’s just lower caloric intake, or if it’s that soup thing working. I’ve decided to praise the soup.

 

The soups my husband makes are always broth-like. He uses those boxes I just mentioned as his base. He adds various fresh vegetables, usually some ginger, and a few spices. Lately he’s been requesting that I get the boxes that say “Bone Broth”. The subtext says chicken or beef; we prefer the chicken, especially because that’s usually available in low sodium.

 

I have no idea what prompted him to become a fan of bone broth, but it seems to be extremely popular now. Some people even drink it straight. I’ve made turkey soup from the leftover Thanksgiving carcass. But somehow seeing “bone” on a label creeps me out. The Healthline website says: “Bone broth dates back to prehistoric times, when hunter-gatherers turned otherwise inedible animal parts like bones, hooves, and knuckles into a broth they could drink.”

 

“Otherwise inedible parts” sends a shiver up my spine. The site says bone broth “may” benefit the digestive system and help fight inflammation; no promises, of course. Be that as it may, my husband is now a devotée of the bone broth trend. By the time he finishes making his soup, it looks like any other broth and smells appealing, too.

 

The Progresso soups are great go-to options when neither of us wants to make lunch or dinner. This happens more often lately. There are several flavors of Progresso that we enjoy, like their Savory Chicken & Wild Rice and their Southwest Style Black Bean & Vegetable. Those are both reduced sodium varieties. Their Light group doesn’t float our boats as much, but the calories range from just 130 (Savory Vegetable Barley) to 200 per can. The chain stores often have good sales on Progresso. If I pay attention, I can stock up at a reasonable price hoping to lose more weight on this “soup diet.”

 

This brings me to my favorite part of this essay. You may have heard of egg drop soup or bird’s nest soup. But have you ever heard of stone soup? I don’t know if it comes to mind because “stone” rhymes with “bone” or if it’s just because it’s a fun story. You may be familiar with the tale of the stone soup. For those who are not, I hope you enjoy it.

 

A beggar came to the kitchen door of a farmhouse, carrying a rock. He asks the woman inside if he can borrow a large pan in which to make some stone soup. Curious, she hands him a pan, shows him where the water pump is, and offers to let him cook it on her kitchen stove. He puts the stone in the pot, fills it with water, and begins heating it. He tests it in a few minutes and declares: “It really needs just a pinch or two of salt and it will be fine.” The woman hands him her salt bowl. He tests it again in a few more minutes. “If only I had one or two slices of onion, my stone soup would be even better.” “I have plenty of onions,” the woman says. “You’re welcome to have one.”

 

After considerable stirring and cooking, the beggar muses: “What would really make this stone soup wonderful would be a stick of celery.” By now, the woman is complying with his wishes without even thinking about it. Finally, he comments that the only thing his stone soup needs to make it perfect is a carrot. Of course, a carrot appears in the woman’s hand. More stirring and cooking. More sampling. Eventually, the beggar pronounces the soup ready to eat.

 

The woman produces two bowls and a ladle with which to serve the soup. They sit together at her kitchen table to eat the soup. The woman remarks: “I can’t believe how good this soup is! And to think you made it with just a stone!”

 

To which I say: “I can’t believe what delicious soup my husband makes out of bone broth!”

 

Copyright 2023 Business Theatre Unlimited