Feeling More Alive

Calamities can be opportunities.  Our odious President and our pandemic confinement have enabled a few beneficial things.  My Inner Compass seems a lot better defined.  And physically I feel more alive than I have in a few years.  Each has forced a level of previously frittered focus but in different ways.  I'm off a couple of my chronic medicines, not the antihypertensives and the lipid agents intended for longevity but the compulsivity suppressor, the nasal steroid, the anti inflammatories, and the alpha blockers designed either for my comfort or the comfort of those around me.   

I've done admirably well with personal scheduling.  There are designated sleep times and exercise times.  Grocery shopping has been more purposeful.  I have assigned days for finances and for car maintenance.  TED talks, which add to my sense of alive via admiration for what others achieved and convey, are accessed in a scheduled way with some design to what I will listen to.  Writing has not done quite as well, though blogging has settled into a morning activity with subjects added and saved as I think of them.  I keep up with reading the subscriptions that I pay for.  A new ritual of sherry or port in late afternoon has been added.  While concerned about both the expense and indulgence, I can afford both.  An attempt to replace with herb tea, which I also like and is more economical, did not generate the same late afternoon inner peace.  Household tasks have become better defined with more tangible end points.  Kitchen floor washed, bedroom floor vacuumed.

Looking at my aspirations from a few months ago, I've done well.  Making friends has lagged, that goes a lot better in person than on a screen.  I've been on my day trips, one more to go with destination affirmed.  Whether I will really get to a National Park seems less assured.  One project was best abandoned.  Better to do that purposefully than to have it linger undone if I am sure I won't do it.  And while the upcoming national election dominates the attention of others, I have made peace with making a statement and voting, which I can do effectively, and influencing outcome, which I cannot.  But it does clarify my Inner Compass.

Philly's Italian Market

 

It's a place I always wanted to visit but never did despite it's proximity.  I've driven across one of its main intersections en route from Mercy Hospital to IKEA, looked down 9th Street from my driver's lane on Washington Street, but never got out of the car to walk around.  The Italian Market pops up on cooking shows, recently a major segment of an Andrew Zimmern feature on Philadelphia.  Yet I had never ventured there.  It made for a good day trip, some experiences expected, some very different than expected.

South Philadelphia has an Italian Heritage, Rizzo Country with stoked animosities of the 1970's repackaged nationally in our own day.  Of all the places in Philadelphia that I have driven through, South Philly between the sports stadiums and Center City captures my attention most.  As I drive along Broad Street, usually to get from my home to the Endocrine Society evening meetings at Jefferson University Medical Center, I glance at the many small shops, small churches, mostly Italian restaurants, unique street parking configurations, and the many other neighborhood retentions that have avoided the endless fast food franchises and chain pharmacies that dominate where I live.  The Italian Market was at the peak of Rizzo, Angelo Bruno who controlled the local Mafia, and Palumbo's that dominated entertainment as a place to be seen, the centerpiece.

Only fragments remain.  Andrew Zimmern skimmed those old elements, mega cheesesteak emporia of Pats and Genos, Ralph's which is one of the oldest continuously operating Italian restaurants in the USA, a nook bakery that served tomato pie from which I bought a delicious square at a nominal price.  Charm for sure, though not really accurate.  What dominated were not the eating places or shops with Italian names and legacies specializing in unique customized selections of meats or cheeses, but the outdoor produce stands.  Cities, including Philly, have their outdoor farmers markets, though these were not farmers.  They reflect the Italian heritage giving space to the Hispanics who have created a presence not only as green grocers but as restauranteurs and specialty baker outlets.  There's an Indochinese community with one shop I visited manned by a fellow whose knowledge of English seemed limited to the practicalities of handling American currency.  They had nearly sold out of $5 Biden caps, but still had an ample supply of Trump caps in a variety of  hues.  There wasn't any litter.  Outdoor seating was carved out into what used to be fought over parking space to enable the restaurants to function in a Covid-19 environment.  

Not many people shared 9th Street with me. I had read that parking lots filled quickly.  Not true when I was there, and fee not excessive.  I wandered into shops and past people waiting to order their hoagies or roast pork sandwiches from the eatery window.  No long lines, few customers in any of the shops.  In order to make the transition from Italian to Hispanic presence, the Italians had to give up their stores or restaurants.  And today, maybe accelerated by Covid, retail space for rent did not seem scarce.  

If I had one destination shop, it was Fante's, an iconic supplier of high end kitchen ware for the discerning chef.  They had been sponsors of The Frugal Gourmet, that iconic cooking series that I watched every week at its peak popularity,  The star, Jeff Smith, who I termed The Cheap Chef to amuse my then preschool son, once stopped at a mall near us as part of a book tour.  I went with my son, a little starstruck when he pointed to the table where the author was personalizing copies of his latest book, and blurted to the crowd "that's the Cheap Chef."  Fantes would be forever linked to that, so it was a personal honor to tour the shop and appreciate what made The Frugal Gourmet such a devotee of what was a large but niche store with online shopping not to appear until long after Jeff Smith's passing.  I could see why aficionado's of their kitchen willing to invest in the best would come there preferentially one or two times to enable their culinary interest.  And not everything was blatantly excessive in price, though the coffee beans were.  Now I've been there.

Spent a little money.  Good value on tomato pie.  Disappointed with espresso.  Found a suitable item for a Hanukkah gift from the Indochinese shop whose Trump caps did not sell, And from the outdoor stand, good prices on oranges, berries, and fresh figs.

Home by late afternoon, whipped the rest of the heavy cream still in the fridge,placed copiously atop a generous mound of blackberries and raspberries for our dessert that evening. 

Washing Kitchen Floor

When I redesigned my kitchen a few years ago to be the destination space I had craved, I looked at the space largely by what I hoped to do there.  Visual attraction had its element and I did not want to pay a lot to remove walls or install gas lines, but accepting the existing structure, I had the cabinets refaced, new quartz countertops, tile backsplash, and a new floor.  I selected a composite, light gray faux stone, largely for ease of maintenance.  It needed sweeping regularly and washing periodically.  Neither became routine.  As things got grungy, I thought it time to give it a comprehensive scrub, maybe finding a few lost objects in the effort.

Square tile has another helpful advantage.  It makes it easy to create regions.  Move a quadrant of furniture or cart or other things occupying floor surface, sweep and wash.  The squares make it easy to define where to expose surface as I work and to keep from repeating what I have already done.  Success.  Maybe a quadrant or a little less at a time, but all is now scrubbed.  

My placement of things around the kitchen has been fundamentally right so things can be returned to their original locations.  I did not find many missing objects, a few things better discarded, but mostly a cleaner look along with the satisfaction of having done something worth doing.  

My Plants

October marks a transition point for the Plant Kingdom.  Leaves scatter over my back yard, less so the front.  I used to devote part of every Veterans Day and Thanksgiving Weekend to raking but in recent years I've been content to let the lawn service's mulching mower shred and scatter the fragments.  Not ideal but good enough.  Annuals have been plucked from my outdoor garden.  Mostly disappointing harvest.  Sage and rosemary are perennials, sage surviving last winter, rosemary not.  I staked the sage upright and come spring will need to add a coating a mulch or topsoil to the garden bed to make the surface above the weed block thicker.  Parsley is apparently a biennial.  I harvested what seems an abundant overgrowth, leaving the roots.  Then in accordance with www advice, which must be true since I read it on the internet, washed and dried what I cut, removed the stems, and created two packages of labelled plastic bags which found a home in my freezer.  Apparently a similar, though more tedious process exists for basil, which grows well indoors, but I can try to salvage the flourishing outdoor container of basil and parsley that way.  I took them inside last year with a very unsatisfactory outcome.  Mint is indestructible so the outdoor container stays outside this winter.  Other planters did not do well, so just stay outside for their reset button or at least reconsideration, next spring.

While my gardening skills never matured, or maybe the talent and dedication to excellence just isn't there, I enjoy having the plants around me.  They come in two forms, a hydroponic aerogarden and three chia pots.  The basil in the chia pot did great until this week when it drooped, probably in parallel to the failure of the fluorescent bulbs on the aerogarden which illuminates the basil as well.  The other two chias have not fared well.  I gave them one last chance, introducing thyme and chives which are now on a windowsill waiting to see if germination happens.  The aerogarden has been a more fickle undertaking.  Basil always does well.  Thyme sprouted in an abundant way also but it wasn't good culinary thyme.  The leaves seemed micro, the stems that held them a stiff tangle.  Used in kitchen once, too hard to separate the leaves.  Probably could have salvaged a bouquet garni.  Other four pods a failure.  To be fair to Aerogarden, using their system seemed too expensive.  They sell their version of soil and nutrients which work better than my home made facsimiles.  To  save money and deal with local availability, I harvest their containers each year, clean them and replace with a mixture of potting soil and topsoil, sometimes vermiculite if I have any.  It will get me a strand or two of whatever herb I plant but not robust enough to take root in the underlying water, except for basil which always dominates.  Instead of their clear plastic shields for germination protection, I convert used Kcups which fit properly, though are white and opaque.  They have fertilizer tablets.  I make my own with liquid plant food proportioned into a wine bottle's worth of water, then added to the water reservoir.  I like my hydroponic garden but not enough to pay authentic aerogarden prices for it.  Where I don't have the option of bypassing the high prices are in the bulbs, which seem to have a more limited activity duration than other fluorescents.  Mine recently failed.  I had a spare, installed it, though it uses two.  I ordered two more.  Then I went to my seed supply, found five things worth a try beyond the basil that I kept, planted them, watered the plastic tubes, put a kcup atop each, and see what happens.  The worst that can happen is another failure.  I can always plant more basil.  

Harvesting My Freezer

 

As I pursue grocery shopping, driven by a mixture of Trader Joe's staples and discounts from the weekly Shop-Rite ad, my purchasing has changed for the better the past few months.  I sometimes follow a list, though usually not.  But to offset that, when I put something in the cart I know what I want to do with it.  Good price on salmon means gravlax.  There are shabbos dinner staples like chicken breasts or sometimes a cut-up chicken, or cubed beef bought for that purpose.  Recently I've been getting fish on sale, nature's fast food that I can freeze thaw a day or two before needed and make a quick dinner.  Some things are made in bulk.  Macaroni & Cheese or spinach lasagna lasts about four meals, two that week, two frozen for later.  Pierogies, ravioli, hot dogs or even Beyond Meat Burgers are also just pop into some cooking method shortly before needed.  Alas, I buy more than I eat.

Periodically I need to harvest usable leftovers or things I've not eaten.  I was looking for some frozen tilapia, packaged in serving sized portions, to put in a skillet later in the week but couldn't find them on the lower freezer compartment.  What I found instead, long forgotten by me, were some hash browns that make for a quick breakfast, hamburger rolls that when thawed add to the authenticity of the Beyond Meat Burgers.  Two minichallot, that I now do not have to buy for this shabbos, two serving sized mac & cheeses sitting in the freezer for two months, some unopened frozen vegetables, some opened with enough peas or brussels sprouts for one more dinner each.  And I knew about frozen cholent which will get used for a pre-Thanksgiving shabbos.

And I still have the upper compartment.  Tilapia probably there.

Stellar Vacation Day

Each half year, I allot one of my initiatives to visiting places I've not been before, close enough to complete the round trip in a day.  As I plan the subsequent six months every June and December, this particular initiative invariably has that satisfying completion check mark and renewal of something I want to include among my projects for the following half-year.

Covid-19 made this more of a challenge this cycle, limiting the number of places open.  I settled on my three, starting with the Ladew Topiary Gardens about 60 miles into Maryland.  While not designed as micro-vacations, they usually fulfill that purpose, starting with a 20oz container of WaWa coffee, which happened to be only $1 at their promotional price.  I could have gotten a Hoagie for $5 as their periodic Hoagiefest makes this a best buy, but for the purposes of a day trip to a new place, having lunch at a local option adds to the respite.  Often I travel to Baltimore the first Shabbos in November for services at Beth Tfiloh where I can briefly admire multicolored leaves along the banks of the Susquehanna as I cross the Tydings Bridge.  This time I, though traveling two weeks earlier, I would be on less trafficked road so foliage watching became a secondary item of interest.  Turned out the the leaves were first starting to change colors, far from peak season, but some.

Travel, even to places not far but unfamiliar, changes perspective. These were smaller places, not truly rural as the great expanses of the midwest or Rockies but a lot less densely populated than where I usually hang out.  Churchville, Jarrettsville, Forest Hill, the slightly larger Bel Air.  There were a lot of McMansions in a number of pockets along the non-highway roads suggesting that there were places around that either offered entrepreneurial opportunity or places to generate significant salaries.  Towns had small shops as well as consumer locations for top retail corporations.  This being prime election season, the yard signs were predominantly for different national candidates than we find around my neighborhood, yet the reason why seemed far from obvious.  I didn't meet any deplorables.  Even the two Hells Angels types with their Harleys parked in a lot where I checked out the basement restaurant bar and hastened out, gave me a nod, despite my Proud Democrat baseball cap.  

I assume they have some fear of loss, maybe their farm, maybe the dominance of their faith, maybe resentment of the people in those McMansions that did not have similar campaign yard signs. While the travel shows all say you get to meet new people, and that's probably true of cruising or national parks, on my day trip the sensory input is nearly entirely visual, virtually no auditory.  Curious about the places I drove around or parked at?  For sure.  But a curiosity not really satisfied.

The Ladew Topiary defined my trip.  Well worth the $10 senior admission.  I like gardens, from the showcases like Longwood or Missouri Botanical Gardens to the more random like Bartram's.  This fell in-between, far from professionally manicured but maintained with the owner's legacy.  Even amid Covid, which closed all the buildings, there was a mixture of defined horticulture and fields of wildflowers.  Getting a little older, I took my time, sat down as the benches became available, looked at the site map as I started but just wandered paths or deviated from them as the surroundings become more familiar.  Nice place to visit.

It's wine country as well.  Boordy dominates but there are others.  My cell phone enabled me to figure out which if any were open for tastings, settling on Harford Winery not far from the Topiary and in my return direction.  For a nominal tasting fee, I selected six ounce or so portions from a printed menu, ventured to an isolated round table, where they brought me my choices on a tray with six plastic cups.

Usually I like chatting with the staff about their wines, production, the surrounding area.  Wineries are partly about the final product but also about the people who create the product or live in the area.  Wine was good to sip.  Precovid, wineries would serve in logo stem glasses most of the time.  I bought one when I paid for the tasting.  Replaces one from New Jersey that I recently broke.

I didn't want to return on I-95 with a toll so I asked the GPS if there was a free alternative not too far out of the way.  I also wanted some lunch, after checking a couple of places pre-winery.  Settled for WaWa Hoagiefest and a large Blizzard from DQ across the street.

Rather pleasant drive home, one I've done before, following Route 1 over the Conowingo Dam, then into Pennsylvania.  Rather than take Route 1 all the way home, I exited onto one of the roads that usually intersects my path to and from Lancaster, mainly to see where that road followed south of my customary trajectory.  Not a lot to see.  Pennsylvania foliage slightly farther along than Maryland's but not by much.  Yet there emerged a curiosity about where I had been, satisfied with a few searches of Wikipedia, both for the towns I visited and for the routes that I drove along.

Vacations, even day trips, make a statement about me.  I like to be in control of what I do.  Minimum agenda, with some diversions of route, where to eat, an unsuccessful attempt to see if the Harford Community College Bookstore had a coffee mug to add to my collection.  The opposition candidate signs did not phase me.  Just one of the features of being in a foreign country.  The mostly amorphous but pleasurable nature of the day made me more aware of why I probably won't return to cruising and why I enjoyed the three I've taken so much.  With cruises, the appointments are minimal, other than port visits.  Even at a port visit, I can take the cruise tour or see the site on my own, depending on the nature of the stop.  While on the ship, I go to the activities I want, take what strikes me as most desirable from the buffet, and feel a little put off when a staff member does for me what I could capably do myself.  Once the buffet yields to mandatory sit-down service and a line forms or reservations are needed for things that I would previously just get up and do without a lot of prior planning, the autonomy and independence disappear.  That's what makes a vacation, and what made this brief minitour of central Maryland such a stellar experience.

Fluid Day

One of those fluid days, literally and figuratively.  Sipping my second cup of herb tea, one of the varietals that has a more inviting picture on the box than taste.  Spiced cider earlier today.  Reached my daily three cup ration of coffee long before it could affect my sleep.  Maybe some sherry before dinner.  And a beverage of some type with shabbos dinner, at least kiddush wine.

As of this morning I had no appointments other than having dinner ready before candle lighting, an easy task with all dinner defrosted and microwave suitable, except the broccoli crown.

An enticing AJC seminar came my way, following a similar themed The Forward seminar last night on addressing the robust presence of antisemitism on the internet.  My professional writing has to go through an editor.  I cannot just submit something to a print or broadcast publication and demand its appearance, though forums like my blog do not have a barrier to deter their appearance in cyberspace.  Eventually the online platforms will either need better accountability for what appears there, much like broadcast media's enforceable standards or they will need to be broken up by anti-trust law, which may have an undesired consequence of their competing with each other to see who is most accepting of submissions they receive.  At the very least, a regulatory agency and regulatory laws have to emerge.  Nobody addressed the elephant in the room, the use of these platforms by sovereign foreign governments to disrupt America.  You can negotiate a solution, but ultimately a credible threat of the military protecting American interests affirms that we mean business on this.

I had intended to do my writing and thinking today.  Medscape topic selected a month ago, a difficult one.  Did some of the background reading and pretty much decided how to package and present my essay.  KevinMD was a little harder.  Three false starts on Consult Maven. 

My medical subjects could include my alma mater's establishment of a business ethics program with a Sugar Daddy to support it.  This would mandate its inclusion in the curriculum starting with the first year.  We had such a project called Community Medicine which, while well intentioned, diverted us from the hard science that dominates early medical school.  It was obvious to us that the requirement was imposed by somebody who had the means to impose it, not because it was essential to study at that stage of training in the format offered.  I suspect the same now with the Business Ethics initiative, more predicated on its availability and authority of its funding source than its essential nature.  It is a very important issue, though, one that impacts every physician from medical school through retirement. My entries into the blog rambled in thought.  I could restrict the focus better, finish the blog entry, and repackage the thoughts for KevinMD.  Aborted effort on how Covid-19 effectively diverted endless essays about how badly our employers treat their physicians or autonomy lost to more noble subjects that make our obligations to our patients worth the travails of our EHRs, intrusive administrators, and burnout.  I scrolled back to pre-Covid KevinMD publications.  To my surprise, the focus on our professional troubles had seemed to be on the wane before Covid-19 captured the American medical conversation.  Finally, I settled on something separate from Covid, but an unsaid part of medicine, the lack of pricing transparency.  We all know the stories of insane itemized markups and providers and payers who concur that it is too disruptive to fix.  A TED talk from a journalist who compiles real pricing information from real patients documents the lunacy.  Whether the cure is worse than the condition makes for a good discussion.  Put in Consult Maven first, then repackage.  This one seems to be going well.

Was hoping to do more around the house but haven't.  And I still want to get my monthly Jewish donation to its destination before shabbos.