Tales from Community Cookbooks: Patriotic Edition

When I found this cookbook from 1942, I was surprised to see what great shape it was in. The colors are awesome.

Here's the introduction.

Let's zoom in.

I get to eat butter, cheese, and ice cream because I'm a patriot? Is this a great country or what!

I'm totally behind the "or more" recommendation for the consumption of butter.

More surprisingly, this little cookbook was bookmarked with old photos. Check out this guy with what looks like a very American amount of ice cream! Good job, kid.

These gals look like they are headed to get their USA approved amount of dairy, too.

There were five pictures in this cookbook, and this one is my favorite.

I like the trees, the swing swaying beneath them, and the shadow of the photographer. Still, I'm fascinated with the woman. Check out her body language. This is someone who clearly doesn't want to be photographed, but yet there she is looking as uncomfortable as possible.

 Hmmm. Maybe she needs to try this recipe...

"Urgh!" - Dad Story Number Three

(In honor of Father's Day, I'm reposting some stories about my Dad.)

While growing up, one of my most consistent memories of my dad is of him coming home from work and then falling asleep in his living room chair - a newspaper lying flat against his chest. If you asked Dad how his day was during dinner he'd softly snort and say, "Busy." If you asked him what he did that day he'd reply, "Kept busy."

Later, in the TV room, we'd eat air-popped popcorn and watch TV until it was time to go to bed (always 10:00 PM). Dad didn't talk in his sleep, didn't talk with food in his mouth, and he didn't talk when the TV was on. So, when I was a kid talking to dad wasn't ever an option.

You can then imagine what a jolt it was when one Saturday morning, before he left for work, Dad leaned into my bedroom and said, "I taped a show off of cable for you late last night. It's all about music, and it looked like something you'd like." I was shocked into silence, and dad quickly turned away.

My first thought was, "How'd he know I liked music?" - as if he hadn't heard music blaring out of my upstairs room since I was five - and my first action was to hop out of bed and run down to the TV room to fire up the VCR. Sometimes our cable provider would give our town a free weekend of HBO, and my dad would borrow a VCR from work so we could record as many programs as possible.

The movie he recorded for me was a 1981 British release called "Urgh! A Music War", and it featured live performances by 38 different bands from around the world. Talk about an eyeopener, I couldn't believe what I was seeing and hearing.

I was only 12, and I had no idea there were so many strange bands in the world.

When I got to the 23rd performance, The Cramps performing their song "Tear it Up", I quickly closed the TV room's door in fear that my mom would see what I was watching and destroy the tape. I kept thinking "Are you supposed to put a microphone in there?" and "What is that guy wearing? Are those actually pants? How does he keep them up?"

 

Then I thought, "Thanks, Dad!"

Well, my "Urgh" VHS tape eventually wore out, but thanks to the kind folks at Warner Archive I recently got a chance to time travel back to 1981. The movies available from the archive haven't been available on DVD before, and are burned onto DVD-R "on demand". In other words, you can't find these in any stores.

Although the movies are described as not remastered or restored, you can watch a quick clip to check out the video's quality. I ordered "Urgh" on a Wednesday, and it was in my DVD player in three days. The widescreen presentation looks and sounds great, and I still wonder "How does that guy keep those 'pants' up?"
 

video link

Another Dad Story (Father's Day is June 16)

Once Upon a Parent Teacher Conference Night...

... a mother and her daughter walked into my classroom, and the mother gasped, "Oh my God! You can't be Mr. Monson. You look just like him, but you just can't be him... that was so long ago..."

I've had some strange conference conversations before, but this opening was a first, "Excuse me?" 

"Oh. As we were walking up the steps, I looked at Paige's schedule, and I noticed we we're going to go see a Mr. Monson. I was telling her that I had a Mr. Monson as my principal in elementary school, and I was joking that it was going to be the same guy... I can't believe it, but you look exactly like my old principal!"

I gave her a polite laugh,  "Well, where did you go to school?"

"Oh," she waved a hand in front of her face, "it's a small school, way up north. It's called West Lyon."

This time I smiled for real. "That was my dad. He was principal there in the early 70's." 

"Are you serious?" 

I assured her I was, and the rest of the conference went fairly smoothly, except I kept catching the mom staring at my face instead of the transcript I had giver her to look over. At the end of our meeting I shook both of their hands, and as mom was walking out she informed me, "Except for the modern haircut, you look just like him. Your dad had this Mike Brady style haircut."

"Yep, Dad was rockin' that doo back then." 

"He sure was."

Enough Said!

I have a project/experiment I want to work on, but the spray paint requires it to be well over 70 degrees outside. I can't believe it's June 6, and I have been waiting for days to hit that measly temperature.

I guess the weather could be worse, though.

Yes, this is a real movie. Too bad it's not Tara Reidnado (say it out loud). That might be actually scary.

But not as scary as this painting I saw at Goodwill.

Gahh! The eyes diagonally slant in the same direction, his face is smeared with the blood of his victims, and that spot of white on his lips looks like a small fang. Don't be fooled into thinking that's a collar, those are bat wings.

Every amateur painting of a clown, intentional or not, is freaky. It's like that's a law or something.

As Seen On An Abandoned Car Wash

When you end a word with "sh", and you follow it with an "ity", then you can't help but sound like you're swearing. But you're not. Hmmm, I might start using this expression around the house.

"How was your day, Brent?"

"Eh. It was kinda splash-ity."

Dam to Dam 2013 Recap

For me, summer doesn't start until I've crossed a finish line. in front of my daughter. I like to begin the season by setting a good example for Charlotte. She knows what's on my chest, and she gets really excited when she gets to put on a bib number, too.

Unlike Dad, she didn't have any pre-race jitters.

Last year the youth run was well organized. They lined up the kids by age, and each age group ran individual races. The one-year-olds, the runners with the shortest attention span, went first.

This year it was a bit of a mess. They started with the oldest age groups. Then they grouped the ones and twos together for a single race, which only doubled the confusion. By the time they yelled, "Go!" other age groups (and their parents) also entered the fray. Charlotte was almost knocked to the ground by an overzealous mother, and the little cheater girl who won was six.

Despite the confusion, Char was pretty excited to see the welcoming committee of team mascots at the finishing line.

She liked her finisher's ribbon, too.

Later Char bumped into Olympic gymnast Shawn Johnson.

Char was particularly impressed with Shawn's Great Dane, Titus. Here he is eating somebody's Powerade.

Char got to see her dad run. She ran a race with her mom. And she spent the rest of the morning with family, athletes, and big dogs.

See? I really am setting a good example for her.

The Price Was Right

What do you do when you've been waiting all day to work on your car, and at 8:30 pm you discover you have six bolts but only five washers?

You punt.

The hole took two minutes to drill out, and the penny is the right size.

Sure, I could wait until tomorrow and buy another washer, but I've been itching to get the new running boards on the Bug. Besides, I think using a penny is fun...

Turns out the running boards came with mounting hardware, so my trip to Ace Hardware seemed unnessary. But one of the provided washers was too small. Thankfully, I had a penny with a hole in it.

Who says pennies aren't worth anything?

As Seen at Dollar General

Sometimes when the weather is nasty (like today) and we're both Bubble Guppied out, I take Charlotte shopping at the Dollar General store. Unlike Goodwill, it's clean. But like Goodwill, you'll never know what you'll find.

Maybe I should take this to school. I work with a lot of un-happy butts.

Tales from Community Cookbooks: Manly Edition

"The manly art of knife-throwing"? That's an awesome example. 

By far, this is the manliest cookbook I have ever found. I feel like I should do ten push-ups before I even open it. 

"The Storz Brewing Company was located at 1807 North 16th Street in North Omaha, Nebraska. Established from a company started in 1863, Storz Brewing began in 1876 by Gottlieb Storz and was owned by the Storz family until Arthur C. Storz Sr. sold the company in 1966. It went out of business in 1972. According to the Omaha World-Herald, "The Storz brewery pumped out 43 million gallons of beer a year and produced one-third of all the beer sold in Nebraska in 1960." wikipedia

Here's Arthur. 

Let's zoom in for a closer look.

Mr. Storz is drinking a beer, holding a smoke, grilling steaks over an open fire, and wearing an apron featuring a cook trying to kill farm animals. Storz even makes that chef hat look kinda cool. And let's not forget that he also owns his own brewery. In 1949 you couldn't get manlier. 

Health risks aside, I want to be that guy. Sadly, I can't. But thanks to Arthur C. Storz, I know how to properly serve a beer. 

 Again, let's zoom in for  closer look.

Finally, someone has given me permission to NOT do the dishes: Just rinse the damn thing, and put it back on the shelf. Soap is for sissies. 

I have no clue who Shelton is, but I like any man who puts two bacon layers in his baked beans. 

So, what does this cookbook suggest I eat with Shelton's baked beans?

Thanks, dude. I'll take two.

After dinner I'll practice my knife-throwing skills.

Drum Roll, Please

Ladies and gentlemen, the change jar is now (mosty) empty.

My Powerjar Jackpot?

Not bad at all.

But what's with the junky dollar bill? That looks like the change I get from the lunch ladies at school. It's bad enough that I get cut off by a 15-year-old while I'm trying to get a "tri-tator", but then I have to take as change the wadded up dollar bill I just watched him pull out of his pocket as his dirty Kleenexes spilled onto the floor?

High school cafeterias: even their money is gross.