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    Flying Fur

    When we take our aging dog for a drive, we go through a set routine to get him on board.  Prop the back passenger door of the truck wide open and position the homemade ramp against the threshold.  Get him into a running start so his momentum carries him up the ramp and onto the seat.  And don’t forget the water bucket, a couple of large poop bags, and a leash that doubles as a lead line for a horse.  With all that in mind I can’t imagine ever getting our St. Bernard onto an airplane.

    You’re seeing furry friends on passenger laps more frequently these days (which creates a delightful image with a St. Bernard) so perhaps it’s no surprise to read about a commercial airline designed for “dog-first travel”.  BARK Air completed its inaugural flight last week from New York City to Los Angeles, hosting six dogs, six owners, four flight crew, and BARK Air’s CEO.  The ticket for each dog + owner cost an I-can’t-afford-it $6,000.  One way.

    BARK Air’s mantra is “… to deliver a white-paw experience” and my jaw didn’t drop much when I read into the details.  Your dog only has to be leashed on takeoff and landing; otherwise he/she is free to romp around the plane and socialize with the other dogs and humans.  Your dog receives treats, toys, and calming scents and sounds along the way.  And “potty time” is anywhere – anywhere your dog wants it to be on the airplane.  The flight crew is trained to be at the ready for clean-up after every “accident”.  Would you want that job ?

    I can see how BARK Air appeals to the one-percenters.  For the money they can’t seem to spend fast enough, they and their dogs fly in style instead of on “people planes” with the rest of us commoners.  Their dogs travel off-leash instead of in crates, which BARK Air speaks to repeatedly in its advertising.  In fact, BARK Air’s CEO traveled in a dog crate the entire inaugural flight, a nod I suppose, to their “dog-first travel” slogan.

    Pretending to be rich/famous, I decided to book our St. Bernard and me on one of BARK Air’s New York-Paris flights next month.  I figured, why not take our boy to France, then on to Switzerland, where he could strap on a barrel of brandy, meet up with a bunch of other St. Bernards, and frolic in the Alpine snow?

    The booking process was easier than I expected.  A few clicks on the website and BARK Air was ready to accept the $6,000 for me and my St. Bernard to fly.  Okay, so Paris isn’t one of their options yet (that’ll cost $8,000 when it is) but of the four flights in June, two were sold out and two were about half-full, so clearly dog lovers are going for the concept.  And unlike hotels, BARK Air doesn’t have the weight limit my St. Bernard always exceeds.

    Still, I just can’t picture it.  My St. Bernard wouldn’t be coaxed, let alone be able to navigate that narrow steep ramp up onto the plane.  His constant panting would drown out BARK Air’s calming sounds.  His drool would be flung onto every other dog and passenger after he slurps from his water bucket.  And no amount of BARK Air’s calming scents could cleanse his breath, which my wife and I still back away from after all these years.

    Our big boy is the one in the middle

    We’re heading out on a two-week trip today, leaving our big boy behind for my daughter to take care of.  Gonna miss him big-time, which is probably why BARK Air somewhat appeals to me, crazy-expensive as it is.  But our St. Bernard’s in good hands while we’re gone, and he’ll do an adorably clumsy doggy dance when we walk back through our door.  Yep, I’ll leave BARK Air’s dog-first seats to someone else. Maybe I’ll reconsider when they start flying to Switzerland.

    I’ll be back in touch after our vacation.

    Some content sourced from the NPR article, “Air travel has gone to the dogs – literally…”, and the BARK Air website.

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    Berry Expensive

    When it comes to fruit, berries top the list of my favorites.  I’ve always been a fan of grapes, apples, and pears – probably because I ate a lot of them when I was a kid – but over the years I’ve come to appreciate berries as much for their taste as for their healthy benefits.  Now don’t ask me to choose a favorite berry because I’d struggle between strawberries, blueberries, and raspberries.  And where-oh-where would I rank pineapples?

    That’s no berry blunder I just made there.  Pineapples – go figure – are a berry.  I meant to start this post from a wholly different angle but I couldn’t get past this juicy tidbit of trivia.  As a pineapple plant grows, the individual flowers fuse together to create a cluster of “berries”, which go through an extraordinary evolution to end up as the cohesive pineapple you and I know and love.  Grow one in your garden sometime and watch it happen.  For the most part, all you have to do is slice off the top of the fruit and plant it.

    I could’ve guessed pineapples fall among nature’s sweetest fruits.  In fact, on a list of the top ten the pineapple rates second-sweetest of them all (only mangoes contain a higher concentration of fructose).  For perspective, grapes, cherries, and strawberries are further down the list and each of those are plenty sweet.  We might as well be talking about candy here instead of pineapple.

    I do love pineapple, and I’m guessing part of the appeal is the nostalgia of childhood eats.  My mother liked to serve pineapple chunks on top of cottage cheese as a side salad.  She occasionally broke out a can of Del Monte “Fruit Cocktail”, a concoction of pineapple and other fruit pieces submerged in a sickly-sweet syrup.  My mother also baked whole hams with pineapple rings dotting the surface.  I won’t claim baked pineapple tastes as good as a fresh slice, but the slightly-burnt taste comes to memory like it was yesterday.

    There was a pineapple upside-down cake or two in my childhood but I was never really a fan.  Fruit belongs in pies if you ask me (hence my dislike of Easter hot cross buns and Christmas fruitcake).  Admittedly, he or she was a clever soul who realized fruit could be nestled into the top of a cake if placed at the bottom of the pan first (followed by the cake batter, followed by a flip of the pan after baking).  And who knew: prunes, not pineapples, were the first fruit to grace upside down cakes.

    My favorite pineapple story comes from our honeymoon.  Through a travel agent we booked several days at an all-inclusive resort in Hawaii.  The first morning we ordered fresh pineapple from room service.  It was so delicious we ordered more every morning thereafter, enjoyed on our private balcony as we gazed out to the Pacific.  But at check-out, my jaw dropped when I saw every one of those (overpriced) breakfasts on my bill.  I promptly asked the hotel manager to look into it and he goes, “Oh, that all-inclusive package your travel agent booked was discontinued years ago.  You have to pay for the breakfasts now.  Might want to take her back an updated brochure”.  Whoops.

    Del Monte’s “Rubyglow” pineapple

    Speaking of pricey pineapple, a new spin on the tropical fruit will set you back almost $400.  Say that again, Dave.  Okay, you’ll pay $400 for a pineapple if you really want to.  One of Del Monte’s unique “Rubyglow” pineapples costs that much (and yes, I did say one).  Those who have already indulged say the only difference is the lack of bitter aftertaste you get with a regular pineapple.  Otherwise, you’re paying more for the distinctive look (and the fancy box) than you are for the fruit inside.  My first thought when I saw the photo: the Rubyglow looks like pineapple and ham all in one food.

    At the start of this post I was stuck on “berry”.  Now I’m stuck on “berry expensive”.  $400 for a piece of fruit is bonkers.  I’ll never pay it.  For my hard-earned dollars I’ll take forty overpriced piña coladas instead.

    Some content sourced from the Medium.com article, “Top 10 Sweetest Fruits”, the CNN Business article, “$400 for one pineapple: The rise of luxury fruit”, and
    Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

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    Ear Plugs Recommended

    I try to avoid topics causing thoughts of negativity or fear. After all, who wants to read about invasions when they can find plenty about them in their daily news feed? But one particular assault has been relentless, both in the media’s coverage and the anticipation of its arrival. They’re coming… I know they’re coming. One day very soon I’m going to be surrounded by buzzing, mating, disgusting cicadas.

    “I’m coming for you!”

    Until we moved to the South, I admit to knowing virtually nothing about cicadas.  Sure, I could pronounce the word and probably had a vague idea of what they looked like, but I’d never heard, let alone seen the insect in locales further to the West.  Well, Mother Nature has decided to address that deficit of knowledge this year, in spades.  The forecast infiltration of B-flick bugs is projected to run into the billions (as if anyone could possibly count how many).  And they’ll be here in the next week or two.

    To prepare for this overwhelming assault, I decided to learn a little more about the humble cicada.  It is one of God’s more bizarre creatures, both the look and the lifecycle.  Cicadas live underground almost their entire lives.  They feed on the sap of plant roots.  The only time they surface is to mate, about fifteen years after birth.  The females lay their eggs in slits they make in the branches of trees.  After birth their little “nymphs” plunge to the ground, where they burrow down deep to begin their subterranean lives, and the cycle starts over again while Mom and Dad promptly enter the pearly gates of cicada heaven.

    “Bug eyes”

    It’s the stuff of horror movies, this bonanza of bugs.  The problem is, a realistic depiction on the big screen has to include a soundtrack loud enough to make the viewing unbearable.  THIS is what your local reporter is so jazzed about.  The male cicada makes a shrill sound to attract the female, which can only be described as an incessant scritch-scritch, scritch-scritch.  Now multiply the sound by billions, and the better descriptor is “lawnmower” or “jet engine”.  Best get a set of earplugs while the stores still have them.

    The “buzz” (ugh) about this year’s offensive is the overlapping emergence of two broods where there would normally only be one.  It’s a doubling-up that hasn’t happened since the days of Thomas Jefferson.  There’s enough membership in both clubs to adjust the forecast from “billions” to “trillions”.  Brings a new meaning to “take shelter”.

    Let’s build the horror film script, shall we?  Cicadas make their skritch-skritch sound with vibrating membranes on their abdomens [pausing here to allow stomachs to settle].  Cicadas shed their exoskeleton as they transition from juvenile to adult (time to grow up, little ones), and leave those shells all over tree trunks for us humans to find afterwards.  Finally, cicadas are chock full of tree sap.  For a wish-I’d-never-read-it analogy, just think of cicadas as nature’s Gushers… the bright green variety of the candy.

    Nope, absolutely not

    Birds will be thrilled with the arrival of trillions of Gushers.  They’ll feed on them to their heart’s content.  Okay, so now we’re talking about two cicada invasions followed by one bird invasion.  Oh, and throw in several poisonous copperhead snakes while you’re at it.  The copperheads like to hang out at the base of the trees, to feed on any falling cicadas.  I told you this would be a horror movie.

    The rumors are flying on the when and where of this year’s cicada onslaught.  America’s Midwest and Southeast regions seem to be sure things.  More specifically, Illinois and Georgia, although one report includes several counties here in South Carolina.  Seriously, the thought of untold numbers of these winged nightmares living below the very ground I walk my dog on puts some serious shakes into my legs.

    Despite the headlines and anticipation (and the inevitable movie due out next Halloween) there’s very little “horror” to expect from the cicada raid.  They don’t bite, they don’t move around much, and they die pretty darned quick after they mate.  I’m guessing they don’t care much about the humans walking underneath them either, because they’re too busy making trillions of nymphs.

    Mr. and Mrs. Miller

    Normally this time of year I’m complaining about a wholly different invasion of insects. Out in Colorado – where we still have a “For Sale” sign on the property of our former ranch – we’re about to get a visit from the wretched miller moth (which I blogged about in Late Night Racquet Sports).  Like the cicada, miller moths don’t bite and don’t care much about humans, but man do they migrate.  Like, from the Midwest to the Rocky Mountain states and on into Utah.  They’re so messy I’d almost prefer a double dose of trillions of cicadas instead.  Like I have a choice.

    Some content sourced from the Mercer University article, “What’s up with all the cicadas?…”, and Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

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    Going for a Spin, Spin, Spin

    My wife and I enjoy popcorn after dinner, probably because we’re watching more movies at home these days. It’s easy prep thanks to our Presto air popper. Dump in the kernels, plug in the popper, and “presto”; a delicious snack in an instant.  Of course, one of these days our air popper will break and we’ll have to buy another one. Unlike our KitchenAid stand mixer, which will spin,spin,spin until the end of time.

    KitchenAid’s classic stand mixer

    If your kitchen is like ours, the cupboards are full of appliances that only make an occasional appearance.  Our Breville panini press hasn’t made a “melt” in months.  Our Marcato pasta maker last saw action in the early 2000s.  And our George Foreman grill is retired for good, because it’s just as easy to fire up the barbecue.  But our KitchenAid stand mixer spins to our “Aid” time and again, always ready to make bread dough, cake batter, or cookies.

    Stand mixers date to the early 1900s.  KitchenAid’s version came along in the 1930s, and it wouldn’t surprise me to learn some of the original models are still spinning almost a hundred years later.  The appliance is just that good.  The KitchenAid was designed to be as simple, efficient, and robust as possible, and with only one task in mind: to spin ingredients in dizzying circles until they’re thoroughly mixed.  Sure, you can add dozens of specialized attachments but none change what the stand mixer does at its core.  Spin, spin, spin.

    with slicer/shredder attachment

    When I make a batch of cookies, I stand back in wonder as our KitchenAid does its thing.  As I add the ingredients, the paddle blade works harder and harder to blend them together.  By the time I get to the last of a dozen ingredients; say, chocolate chips, the mixer is practically bouncing across the counter as it struggles to plow through the dough.  You’d expect the mixer to break down at any second in an explosion of flying gears and sizzling smoke.  But it never does.

    I know a lot of people who own a KitchenAid stand mixer, and I’ve never heard of one that stopped working.  Even if it did break, the appliance is designed for easy repair.  The parts can be swapped out individually and quickly, eliminating the need for a repair person or a new mixer.  It reminds me of the old Maytag washers, and how their repairman was described as “the loneliest guy in town”.

    Like most appliances, Maytags aren’t what they used to be.  We yearn for the models from the 1980s or earlier, which could wash anything and never break down.  Today’s Maytags are a shadow of their former selves.  They don’t do as good of a job, and every five years you’re thinking about replacing them.  Not so the KitchenAid stand mixer.  I have no doubt ours will be a part of our kids’ inheritance someday.

    Speaking of kids, our daughter has her own KitchenAid and it sits proudly on her kitchen counter.  Counter space in the kitchen is precious so only a few appliances deserve to be full-time residents.  A coffeemaker.  Some sort of toaster oven.  And a KitchenAid stand mixer, which somehow manages to look appliance-elegant with its curves and swoops.

    Color “ice”, with copper bowl

    “Mixmasters” (a popular nickname for the KitchenAid) aren’t cheap.  Most models run about $300 USD for the basic setup.  Consider though, it’s the only stand mixer you’re ever going to need.  KitchenAid even admitted they expanded their color selection and limited-edition models in an effort to generate more repeat customers.  (This year – and only this year – you can buy one in “iridescent periwinkle blue”.)

    Our Colorado kitchen had a very cool below-counter cabinet, designed specifically for a heavy stand mixer.  You opened the door, pulled a shelf handle, and your Mixmaster rose effortlessly out of the cabinet on special hinges, snapping into place at counter level.  An appliance has to be awfully special to justify a custom cabinet.  Or a spot in the Smithsonian Museum, where the KitchenAid stands as a part of the Julia Child exhibit.

    Right there on Julia’s countertop

    I don’t need to go to the Smithsonian to see a stand mixer (nor do you).  I have my KitchenAid right here in the kitchen cabinet.  I can put down the laptop and whip up a batch of cookies anytime I want.  Like, right now.  Time for my Mixmaster to spin, spin, spin again, just like it’s done a thousand times before.

    Some content sourced from The Atlantic article, “KitchenAid Did it Right 87 Years Ago”, and Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

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    Fresh Food for Thought

    When it comes to healthy lifestyle, the chatter seems to have shifted from diet to drugs. Instead of “you are what you eat” you could say, “you are… the product of whatever prescription you can afford”.  A regimen of Ozempic, the trendy weight loss injection of celebrities, will set you back $1,000 USD a month. So with this kind of pharmaceutical spending in mind, it was refreshing to read an article about the Atlantic Diet, a fresca (fresh) foods spinoff of its more famous predecessor, the Mediterranean.

    “Atlantic” foods

    Because it’s a common way to eat in Spain and Portugal, the Atlantic is formally known as the Southern European Traditional Atlantic Diet (a real “mouthful” there).  But you can just call it “The Atlantic” because it’s so simple.  A lot of fresh fish, a little meat and dairy, vegetables, whole-grain bread, and the occasional glass of wine.  To contrast, the Mediterranean demands more plant-based foods like fruits, vegetables, and olive oil on top of just about everything.

    No surprise, the Atlantic improves your health by lowering blood pressure, insulin resistance, total cholesterol, and the circumference of your waist.  It’s not rocket science but it still takes fortitude to pass up the other temptations of, say, the American diet.  Soft drinks.  Processed foods.  Just about anything with sugar in it.  The usual sacrifices that come with a healthy diet.

    There’s a more challenging aspect of the Atlantic diet besides whole foods.  The meals are meant to be home-cooked and served family style, encouraging social interaction.  Accordingly, an Atlantic dieter should a) turn off the TV, b) put away the cell phone, c) focus on meaningful conversations, d) chew slowly, and e) pause between bites.  Talk about overhauling the way you eat, huh?  So I ask, especially to you fellow Americans, which of those five would be the hardest to achieve?  You’re forgiven if you answer “all of the above”.

    Admittedly, my wife and I would be challenged by the Atlantic approach.  We enjoy making dinner together, but after a long day there’s nothing more appealing than plopping our meals on trays and sitting down to another episode of mindless streaming TV.  And the cell phones are always nearby in case a text chimes in.  We’re so immersed in our show in fact, who knows how fast we chew or if we ever pause between bites.  Heck, do we even taste what we’re eating?

    At least we’re not tempted by Ozempic.  “Miracle drug” perhaps, but don’t ignore the side effects.  Dropping the weight through injections can gift you with blurred vision, gallstones, allergic reactions, and a constant state of exhaustion (just to name a few).  Worst of all, you might literally wear your results with “Ozempic face”, a hollowed-out look with sagging skin and signs of premature aging.  No thanks.  Those couple of countries on the other side of the Atlantic have a much better approach.

    Some content sourced from the CNN Health article, “A cousin to the Mediterranean Diet: the Atlantic Diet explained”, and Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

About Me

The sky is not completely dark at night. Were the sky absolutely dark, one would not be able to see the silhouette of an object against the sky.

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