The Cheap Seats

 As a man begins to head towards fifty, looking in the mirror is a wise thing to do. Assess the devastation each morning, before easing gingerly down on the loo. "Good lord!" I often exclaim, my face creased with alarm and sheer dread. "Since when does hair grow "there," instead of only on top of my head?! Yes, I've monitored the thinning and graying, knowing it is all just a part of life. But since when did it sprout in other places? "Heaven help me, these furry patches are rife!" I don't mind the graying temples, they have added a distinguished air. "It had to happen sooner or later," I muse. "Suppose it's only fair." And as my part has receded, steadily moving towards the rear, I've shrugged with resignation, but not with any real fear. Alas! Now the daily inspection, has removed the blinders from my eyes. "Issues" seem to abound everywh

 Did you really think you would get away with murder? This is the 21st century - none of us are invisible. Were you that arrogant and delusional? Apparently so, but your behavior baffles me. Why is causing mayhem and destruction preferable to creating your own version of happiness and sense of place in the world? I don't understand your "logic." And if this was some form of protest, did you honestly think the American people would take your method of protest seriously? You spent time, money and resources to assemble explosives that you knew would - at the very least - gravely injure people. That process obviously took a great deal of time. Are you telling me that not once during the assembly phase you didn't doubt the sanity of what you were planning to do and say to yourself or your equally misguided partner, "This is WRONG!" Oh sure, I get it. Mom hugged you too much, or not enough. Dad wasn't there for you or was absent entirely. Or you were

I spent the first 18 years of my life living the small town American experience: playing in the woods, jumping in swimming holes, drinking at field parties, even occasionally going many days riding in cars that never drove through even one stoplight. That childhood now seems simple, uncomplicated - probably why I smile even now thinking of it. Some of my childhood friends remain rural people. I respect them for the activities they still do that never interested me: hunting, fishing, the ability to work skillfully and consistently with their hands. In this Middle-Management World  most of us live in, there is still much to admire in a person who is self-sufficient - who fells his own trees for home-heating, fixes his own vehicles, repairs his own home. So far, the second half of my life has been lived in a major urban area - the Twin Cities. I won't lie; I enjoy it - the convenience, the culture, even at times the congestion. But, much to my surprise, I have begun to in

I ate very well when I was a kid. Every Sunday morning there was eggs and bacon, occasionally pancakes. Weekday nights had variety, with some kind of red meat a consistent part of many dinners. Sugared cereal was non-existent but my favorite meals were indulged with liberal moderation. Although some incarnation of  a  potato was often "in play," one form was noticeably absent: The Terrific Tator Tot. Now, as a man (child?) of 46, I have been making up for this oversight with a vengeance. Tots, in all their glory, have rounded out my God-awful diet nicely. Specifically, this fried goddess is the cornerstone of my own personal casserole Nirvana creation - Mexican Totdish .  Yes, this is exactly what you think it is, a Recipe Blogpost. Hey, some weeks I've got it, and some weeks I don't. Charles Caleb Colton is a man lost to history but he probably wrote the shrewdest seven words ever put to paper, " Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery ."