What I Taught Myself....October 28, 2011

Growing up I was a picky eater.  Today, I'm somewhat of a picky eater.  I'll complain, but I'll still eat whatever is being served.  One of the things I don't care for is soups and stews.

I know we're getting into the "soup and stew" season with the weather getting colder and all.  The only "stew" I really enjoy eating is chili.  Otherwise, I am not totally thrilled with the pursuit of eating soup.  Not even my mother knows about my lack of excitement of soup, although one time she made a "hobo stew".  And yes, it did live up to the name.  It was whatever was in a trash can thrown into a pot.  And I felt it would've tasted better in the trash can.

So why do I dislike soup so much?  Studies show that 60 cans of Campbells soup are sold every second.  So shouldn't I enjoy soup?  I'm the type of guy that enjoys each dish, each side, in its entirety.  I'm not one to have a spoonful of yams, a spoonful of peas, then back to the yams.  I eat and finish the yams, then eat and finish the peas.  Why mix it all in a pot and add water?  Also, I feel stews are a sign of laziness.  "Hey I don't have time to make a home cooked meal so I'll throw everything in this pot and call that dinner!!"  Why not add milk to it so we don't have to waste time drinking too?

But like I said earlier, I complain, but I'll eat it.  Just don't expect to be served soup or stew when I'm cooking you dinner!

That's it for me!
Bobby P.

What I Taught Myself....October 9, 2011

Growing up I watched a lot of television.  No, Ma didn't sit me in front of the t.v. because she needed her "me time".  I was always fascinated by television.  How its done, what it takes to make a tv show, and the construction of a set, casting, etc.  In past years I've read even more on the creation of Sesame Street and animation.

But over the course of years I've been thinking about the oddities of one of my favorite shows "Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood".  For my foreign readers, "Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood"is about a man who has a second home to hang out by himself and talk to a wall.  He'd feed his fish, play with his trolley and puppets, and had a giant traffic signal and television set with a picture frame wrapped around it.  And a mailman who must not have heard of email since he thought he brought "speedy delivery".  Doesn't help that his name was Mr. McFeely and he had a mustache.  Talk about child molester...

But what always bothered me was whether or not Mrs. Rogers knew about this "second life".  Did she know that Mr. Rogers owned a second house where he worried about tracking dirt onto the carpets?  Or had a second closet full of sweaters? We never saw him do the wash but he never took sweaters home for the wife to clean.  And he never brought in a basketful of clean sweaters.  And the shoes?  Why not just wear slippers or socks.  If your feet and arms are cold, turn up the heat.

Its sad when a man must keep such a large secret from his wife...poor guy.  But he did it for decades.  And she never found out.

That's it for me!
Bobby P.