Monday, July 24, 2006

The Porcine Lollipop

Final edit 8-30-2006
Pork chop on a stick.
Imagine if you will, a perfectly prepared piece of porcine product poised precipitously on a dowel pin. An inch thick. Six ounces minimum. And as you make your way around the grounds of the Iowa State Fair, taking bite after delicious bite, this pork lollipop is on display, for all the hungry world to see.
The state fair - that celebration of harvest and the best produced from the land of (fill in your state here) - is all about food.
Some will argue it's about concerts, carnivals, competition and the like ... but it's about food.
I went to two state fairs this year: the Missouri State Fair (an annual tradition); and the Iowa State Fair, rumored to be THE fair.
What I missed at both was my favorite viewing activity (next to people watchng), team penning. You can Google for more detail but basically three riders have to cut a select number of specially-numbered cows from a herd in a timed event in an arena partially filled with family, penning afficianados like your humble narrator, and folks just looking to sit a bit and either eat or rest up a bit after eating. For as I said, the state fair is all about food. I found no penning this year, but I found food.
Both fairs had just about anything imaginable to eat on a stick. Corn dogs and apples are a given; but there were fried candy bars and Twinkie cakes on a stick, too. I sought, and found, at the Iowa State Fair, the legendary Pork on a Stick at the small Iowa Pork Producers trailer.
Just a small little trailer, nothing fancy, but for five dollars, out of the small serving window I was handed at approximately 9:35 a.m. the thing that man has sought since the beginning of time - hot, roasted meat on a stick. De-licious!
It was an "Iowa chop," which is the description for the cut of the pork chop, about an inch thick. It was firm meat, but not chewy, cooked well through and through, and I was clearly the envy of all I passed. A couple seated, licking their fingers from morning cinammon rolls and who knows what else, asked where I had discovered the Holy Grail of Porkdom.
Naturally, I pointed them, WITH the Pork on a Stick itself, in the right direction. One must share the wealth. I then saw the legendary Butter Cow - a full-sized sculpture of a cow in butter - and can only say, "Must be an Iowa thing."
I finished off my pork with a cup of fresh chopped fruit from another stand. It wasn't on a stick, but it was the only thing worthy of following the pork.
I had port at the Missouri State Fair, too. At the Missouri Pork Producers restaurant, where I strayed after years of supporting the Poultry Producers place for a chicken sandwich or turkey drumstick. It was a nice chop, with a side of fresh, chunky applesauce. It was good, very good, but it wasn't Pork on a Stick.
It's a flaw, Missouri. We need to fix it.

Fair fact: The Moniteau County Fair (California, Mo.) is the oldest continuously operating county fair in the USA.

Weight Watchers got my mind right

"You've got to get your mind right."

That was the advice Captain, Road Prison 36, gave the convicts in "Cool Hand Luke." Once you got used to your sentence, that there was no advantage to escape, you could accept things - get your mind right.

Lucas "Luke" Jackson (Paul Newman) would never have made a good Weight Watchers (WW) member, as he never took the Captain's (Strother Martin) advice. See the movie; he was always fighting, trying to escape.

I started WW in late June 2002 at 295 pounds; at this writing, I'm at 207. To me, getting my mind right is focusing on the money.

I'm a WW "Lifetime Member," which means I met my weight-loss goal of 215, which was set by my doctor. As long as I get no higher than 217, I don't pay to be a member, and I can go to as many meetings as I choose. (That's a savings of $12 per week; rates by WW region may vary.)

Making that goal was HUGE for me. I have had to pay twice since I made it, but that has been only twice in well over a year. That's a lot of money - my money.

My road to WW started years earlier. I was sitting in front of the television (I don't do TV, you know) surfing channels and I noticed my ankles were kind of big. Now this was a time of a 58-inch waistline but no true concept of my actual weight (honest) and not much concern. I was "big boned," as my mama said.

But I went to the doctor, about the ankles. He said that was just water retention, which he could give me pills for, but he suggested I see a dietician ... and the rest begins my personal weight-loss history.

My dietician and I had to go to the wheelchair scale - a miniature version of what trucks weigh on - to get my weight of 378 pounds. She got me counting calories, writing down what I ate, and moving. I started out on the high school track once a day with a goal of eight laps; for awhile, I couldn't make eight, and then, when I could make eight, the time it took started to get less and less, as did my waistline.

I was down about 60 pounds or so when I started getting lazy; I had moved, and given up on dieticians. But after feeling very dizzy a few mornings in a row and being put on hypertension medication, I sought out another dietician. This was a rough period; food options were too varied and the dietician was too nice. I held steady, but no loss.

Ready to get serious again, I asked my current doctor (after I had moved again) about a dietician. Straight-shooter that she is, my doctor told me she didn't think my insurance would cover it, so why didn't I try WW.

I've been there ever since.

I've had up weeks and down weeks, frustrations and elations, but when the compliments started coming in and the clothes started coming in more options and at less cost, and I started feeling better, and I was taken off the blood-pressure medicine, and ... well, I got my mind right.

Looking back, the dieticians were a form of WW. They were good, they were helpful. I don't regret them.

But WW was every week, out-of-my-pocket cash, with a compliment or an insult from the scale followed by good advice and positive reenforcement from the WW leader and fellow members. (You can join WW on-line, but I don't recommend it; you have to get your fat out in public and flop it down next to other fat - it's the only way.)

I want to get to 199 by basketball season; I originally set that goal for June 30, but I got a bit lazy ... but only a bit. Because, as Captain, Road Prison 36 also said - and I'm not talking about the famous "What we've got here is ... failure to communicate" - what he also said was this: "Now, I can be a good guy, or I can be one real mean sum-bitch."

Got my mind right here, Captain.

Thursday, July 13, 2006

Avast, me hearties!

"Hello, beastie!"

I've rarely agreed with Robert W. Butler, the Kansas City Star film critic.
He opened his July 11 column thus: "If you're looking for an apology, stop reading now." Butler was responding to feedback he received after giving "Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest" just 1 1/2 stars.

History - fleeting as it is - will show the movie's opening weekend brought in $132 million, the most successful opening in Hollywood history.

Butler concluded that he reviews movies, but the moviegoers have the final vote. "That's the way it's supposed to work," he wrote.

On that, I agree.

When I reviewed movies for the St. Joseph Gazette, I foolishly wrote that if "Chariots of Fire" won Best Picture, I'd quit reviewing. I ate crow, waited a few weeks, and started writing reviews again. To get paid to watch movies? It's a beautiful thing and a luxury not to be trifiled with. It's like sportswriters who complain about pressboxes - don't poke at it, boys, as it might bite back.

Now, let's talk pirates.

Is Captain Jack Sparrow the best movie pirate ever? He is to many. Johnny Depp created an original, memorable character who keeps us coming back for more.

I saw "Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl" four times and "Dead Man's Chest" twice ... so far. But if they would put on the big screen - and I mean the w-i-d-e screen it was made for - I would pay twice the price to see Burt Lancaster as Captain Vallo in "The Crimson Pirate."

If you call either of Depp's "Pirates" an "action movie," "The Crimson Pirate" is a super-duper, packed-to-the-crow's-nest action extravaganza! Imagine if you will a 1952 film. No way you can create Davy Jones and his crew, let alone his ship. The two best "effects" this movie has are "Technicolor" (which was HOT at the time) and Burt Lancaster.

If you've never see a Lancaster movie, you have missed a treat. He was a true Hollywood star - full of life and "bigger than the silver screen," as they used to see. When he gave the command, "All hands on deck," you jumped and wiped the salt-sea spray from your face.

Stunts? Burt did most of them himself, along with his comic sidekick Ojo, played by Nick Cravat. Lancaster and Cravat were former trapeze partners, so when they do stunts, they are doing some stunts!

Double feature of Burt and Johnny? No, they're different pirates from different times. If you can rent "The Crimson Pirate," see if you can also get your hands on "His Majesty O'Keefe." Burt isn't a pirate this time, but he's a captain on the high seas.

See those two and you'll still be back with me next summer to see "Pirates III," but you'll have an entirely new appreciation for pirates. Sabe?

Monday, July 10, 2006

I don't watch, don't ask me

I don't watch TV ... or as I usually phrase it, I don't "do" TV.
I can afford it, and I do have a "monitor" (for a couple of things I'll get to in a minute) but I don't have satellite, cable or any other way to pick up channels ... and that's fine with me.
I've given up television before. lt's not hard really, although I will admit, when in a hotel room, I will work that remote for all it's worth ... for about an hour. I don't need it.
The last time I gave up TV - this time - was four years ago. I had become hooked on Turner Classic Movies, so much so that I subscribed to the little magazine that gives the full schedule. I would set my VCR for foreign films, old films, just about any movie I'd never seen, and some I wanted to see again. And that's about all I watched.
Then one day, I came home, hit rewind, and then play, and I got nothing. I checked my channel. There was nothing there, either. Some of the other channels worked, but not TCM.
I gave it a day - cable goes out sometimes - and another - and still nothing, so I called. I learned it was a mistake that I had been getting TCM for three months. A mistake by the installer. Right.
Well, that was the day I told them stop my service. I still get postcards, offering to reinstall, but I recycle the paper. Don't need it. Plenty to do without it. I don't do TV.
I use my monitor for two things: DVDs from time to time; and "Uncharted Waters," the Super Nintendo game, to relax while listening to the St. Louis Cardinals during the season, or music or NPR when the season ends.
I don't have to record anything, rush home to watch something, or turn down another offer to do something so I can go sit in front of the television. I have nothing against those who do. There is entertainment to be had, education, too. I just choose not to do TV.