There are two animal riddles from childhood that I still remember.
“How do you get down from an elephant?”
“You don’t get down from an elephant, you get down from a duck.”
The other riddle is similar.
“How do you tune a fish?”
“You tune a piano, you don’t tune a fish.”
Hey, I didn’t say they were terribly funny, I just said I remember them.
Oh, tuna fish.
My mom loves it, so it’s no exaggeration to say I’ve been eating it since before I was born. I love, and have always loved tuna fish. But I don’t like tuna.
Easy. Because it’s two different things. Tuna is what they make into sushi or eat seared on the outside and extra rare on the inside. This tuna has first names like ahi, skipjack, and bluefin. It’s carefully filleted and can be found on the menus of expensive restaurants and runs from $25 to $45 and up. 
On the other hand, tuna fish has first names like Star-Kist, Bumble Bee, and Chicken of the Sea. It’s processed in canneries near the docks, and can be purchased in those cans for 1-5$.
Growing up it was chunk light in oil. Then we made the switch to water. Sometimes, Mom would add hard-boiled eggs. It’s tasty. And, genius if you don’t have enough for either all by itself. It also makes a terrific addition to old-fashioned macaroni salad.
Occasionally as a child, I’d dine at a friend’s house and we’d eat tuna fish. Every once in a while, it would be fancy; solid white albacore in water. And once or twice, I’d hit the tuna fish trifecta: solid white albacore, in water, and with chopped white onion. I love the crunch of the onion, with the tiny bite of heat and touch of sweet.
I decided when I grew up, stocked my own kitchen, and made my own sandwiches, it would always be the deluxe version, with onions, too. And, that’s the way it’s been.
My current tuna of choice.
Years ago, I started adding toasted sesame seeds to the tuna fish. It brings a load of minerals to the party, as well as B vitamins and iron. Plus, it adds flavor, texture, and fiber.
I started keeping flax seeds and sunflower seeds in the house. About 6 months ago, I started adding both. It’s awesome, no joke. Sure, it ups the nutrition which is great, but it’s the flavor/texture component it gives to the tuna that’s got me hooked. Try it and see.
One of my favorite sandwiches starts with tuna fish. It’s a little “unique”, but if you put aside your preconceived tuna fish notions and are open to the unusual, I think you’ll like it.
I don’t make it often, so I make sure all the ingredients are the best I can find and afford. On the freshest of sourdough, I pile on my tarted-up tuna fish. Then I lay strips of the crispiest bacon on top, and drop on a handful of pea shoots, alfalfa sprouts, or broccoli microgreens. On the other slice of bread I schmear 3 or 4 tablespoons of whipped cream cheese, then season and devour. 
And that creamy white spread from Philly is the only type cheese allowable. It may come from a can, but it’s still fish, y’all. And I may live in North Carolina, but I’m still part Italian, youse guys.
Thanks for your time.
People say that Australia is full of things that want to kill you. Vicious boxcar-sized sharks, Rocky Balboa Kangaroos, insects, snakes by the bushel. One of the deadliest is called the common adder. How scary are your snakes that a lethal one is called “common”?
Bullwinkle J. Moose may be cute and sweet on TV, but moose attacks kill three to four humans a year.
Mountain lions, cougars, and Catamounts are different names for the same animal. And, this animal can and will end you. In the last 120 years, ninety people have met their end on the wrong side of these feline assassins. Think it can’t happen in the heart of NC?
So, keep an eye on toddlers and small pets.
1000 people in the US are killed each year by bees. One bite is all it takes for the allergic, and swarms of up to 800,000 have murdered the non-allergic.
They can give you Rocky Mountain spotted fever, which I’ve had. They can give you tularemia, which my father has had. Among the 16 other bugs they can give you is Lyme disease, Bourbon virus, and something horrifyingly called 364D rickettsiosis.
Carried in the blood of lone star ticks is the newly recognized Alpha-Gal allergy, which makes you allergic to red meat. No more steak, burgers, bacon or Eastern NC barbecue for the rest of your life. How evil and vindictive is that?
Thanks for your time.
I normally go throughout my day with an optimistic attitude and a sunny disposition.
For everyone’s protection, I really shouldn’t spend extended time around anyone. I was going to say humans, but this time of year, even squirrels and other innocent woodland creatures kinda get on my nerves.
So, what I need is a new rule: from late April to mid-October, television talking heads need to get their facts straight, or fear my wrath. And when I say wrath, I’m not messing around. It can include anything from a vigorous fist shaking, up to and including changing the channel or leaving the room.
People that try to seem particularly fancy and drink their tea with pinky extended. Yeah, don’t do that. The only people who do this are either ignorant or ill-bred poseurs.
High tea is not extra fancy and enjoyed only by toffs (aristocrats and landed gentry). It is an evening meal eaten by working-class blokes. It usually consists of meat and a few side dishes. It’s eaten around 6PM or so because they go to bed much sooner and rise earlier than the wealthier classes. The fancy swells actually indulged in “low tea”.
It’s denoted high or low tea all because of a piece of furniture. The heavier meal-type tea is “high” because it’s eaten at a dining, or high table. The repast termed low is eaten in arm chairs, with the tea and lighter foods laid out on a lower table; what we Americans call a coffee table.
What a shock. Gosh, nobody else in the history of humanity has ever eaten, or considered food important—just you guys. Y’all must be brilliant.
So, knock it off.
Thanks for your time.
Dad spent years saving souls off the graveyard of the Atlantic. Every time a foolhardy captain made the decision to leave harbor during bad weather like hurricanes and nor’ easters and ran into trouble, the Coast Guard, and my father, was there to jump in the ocean and save their reckless, irresponsible kiesters.
The state of being lost brings us to this week’s tale.
One afternoon we were playing with her Barbies and decided it was time for the dolls to go to sleep. So we put our heads down too and closed our eyes for a minute to while our ten-inch friends slept.
As I was walking down the street, I ran into Homer. He was furious. Evidently, we had been asleep for quite a while, and every adult in the neighborhood was searching for us. I told him where I’d been, and what had happened.
And, instead of all the neighborhood moms looking for him and his buddies, it was the US Army.
Picnics and eating outside are two different things. It doesn’t matter if it’s the rich and famous dining on the patio at a fancy restaurant or a couple of kids eating PBJ’s on the back porch—it’s not a picnic.
The menu is up to you, but there is one that has stood the test of time. It’s also the menu of choice for just about every picnic scene of every American book ever written. There are only four items.
Fried chicken
That’s it. It’s not technically illegal to serve store-bought grub, but it really, really should be homemade. Use your own favorite recipes and make it yourself. It will be a picnic that your guests will forever flash to when they hear the word “picnic”.
When you make the cake batter, it will be thin. Crazy thin. You will panic and think you messed up. Everybody, when making it the first time, thinks this. I promise, you haven’t. It will be the consistency of heavy cream, and that’s how it’s supposed to be. This batter is perfect and will make a delicious cake with the required structural integrity to hold all the scrumptious frosting. It’s a confectionary miracle.
Remember, you have not messed it up. It will be spectacular—the Platonic ideal of a chocolate cake.
Butter, for greasing pans 
Sift flour, sugar, cocoa, baking soda, baking powder, and salt into bowl of electric mixer fitted with a paddle attachment and mix on low speed until combined. In another bowl, combine buttermilk, oil, eggs, and vanilla. With mixer on low speed, slowly add wet ingredients to dry. With mixer still on low, add coffee and stir just to combine, scraping bottom of bowl with rubber spatula. Pour batter into prepared pans and bake for 35 to 40 minutes, until toothpick comes out clean. Cool in pans for 30 minutes, then turn them out onto cooling rack and cool completely.
Place one layer, flat side up, on flat plate or cake pedestal. With knife or offset spatula, spread top with frosting. Place second layer on top, rounded side up, and spread frosting evenly on top and sides of cake. 
6 ounces good semisweet chocolate (don’t use more chocolate than asked for; the frosting will get too hard, and even crack in places) 
In bowl of electric mixer fitted with paddle attachment, beat butter on medium-high until light yellow and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Add egg yolk and vanilla and continue beating for 3 minutes. Turn mixer to low, gradually add confectioners’ sugar, then beat at medium speed, scraping down bowl as necessary, until smooth and creamy. Dissolve coffee powder in 2 teaspoons of hottest tap water. On low speed, add chocolate and coffee to butter mixture and mix until blended. Don’t whip! Spread immediately on cooled cake.
Summer in North Carolina can try men’s souls. Some days it’s so gross out there it feels like you’re walking through warm Jell-O.
Thanks for your time.
Contretemps (kon-truh-tahnz; French kawntruh-than): an unexpected and unfortunate occurrence. Synonyms include kerfuffle, hurly-burly, fracas, hullabaloo, brouhaha, and Donnybrook. As a former English major, my mind just boggles at the mischief our language gets up to (and yes, I do know I ended the sentence with a preposition).
Due to instantaneous dissemination and digestion of information, issues that formerly only a few involved parties knew about now have global dogs in the fight. If somebody in Wichita says something stupid and offensive, wired people in both Kansas City and Kazakhstan know, have opinions about it, and feel obligated to weigh in on it.
In the past, when people said and did hurtful, illegal, and sometimes just flat-out annoying things, the circle of knowledge and subsequent anger was much smaller.
Recently a couple of controversies occurred involving area businesses. Both happened in the real world. But in both cases, social media spread the word and left much egg on many faces.
As a bystander, each controversy seemed easily predictable. One seemed to stem from the overreaction to a minor provocation by an authority figure, and the other a clear, textbook case of cultural appropriation so blatant it bordered on naked racism.
A company attempts to use the historic Mideast turmoil to sell shoes. A phone company clumsily references 9/11 in an ad. On Pearl Harbor Day, a soup company makes the mistake of tweeting a flag-waving noodle.
To hopefully mitigate damage that ensues from these missteps, I suggest the creation of a vital new position for every company in the US.
They can recommend guidelines like staying completely away from sexual, socioeconomic, educational, racial, and any other stereotypes that exist. Just take your hands off the keyboard and walk away. Just.Walk.Away.
So, for the private social media aficionado without the means to employ their very own VOR, I offer a few tips that may save the pain and infamy that comes from ill-considered postings.
And I beg you, when drunk or jet-lagged never cut your hair, call your ex, or hit “enter”.
Thanks for your time.
You get a pie! You get a pie! You get a pie! Everybody gets a pie!
I love cake. It’s one of my two favorite foods. And cake can be homey and comforting; coffee cake and Bundt cake are two tasty examples. But there’s something about pie. It’s never fancy. You never feel underdressed in front of pie. You never feel judged or challenged by pie.
Cake is a delicious, delicious show horse. Pie is a puppy. Pie’s just happy to be there.
But, back to the year of π.
Gramma’s Birthday Egg Custard Pie
Mix all ingredients together and pour into unbaked pie crust.
2 ½ cups all-purpose flour
Put all ingredients into food processor. Pulse until it comes together in blueberry-sized pellets. Turn it out onto floured surface and knead just until it comes together. Gently shape into two discs and refrigerate for at least two hours or up to four days, or freeze, well-wrapped, for up to six weeks.
When you’re ready to use, roll out into square. Fold it into thirds, then fold in half. This will increase the flakiness of the baked crust. Roll into 9-inch circle, press into pie pan. Thoroughly chill before filling to decrease shrinkage during baking. Then fill and bake according to instructions. 
So, if you, Gentle Reader somehow find yourself also observing the year of pie, you could do much worse than using this champ of a pie crust—it’s truly the best one I’ve ever had. And I will keep you up-to-date on our very own annus scilis.
Thanks for your time.
After thirteen hours there he was feeling much better. They diagnosed him with vertigo—scary, but not serious; then sent us home.
“Poor boy sandwich?” Is there a copyright on “po’boy”? Is there some little old lady getting a cut every time somebody says po’ boy? OMG—do I owe her some money?
That dude needs a style intervention. He’s got to be at least 50. Even Vanilla Ice doesn’t dress like Vanilla Ice anymore.
Another trip to the oceanic loo. Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have had that 20-ounce latte.
Someone in that woman’s life should tell her to step away from the tanning bed. Her skin resembles nothing so much as a catcher’s mitt. Johnny Bench called… 
I’ve never stolen candy from a baby (stealing my husband’s though, is a whole other conversation). Those ASPCA commercials with the Lilith Fair soundtrack break my heart (I’m not crying, you’re crying). I don’t try to foist my beliefs on others and attempt to not judge people for their convictions (except for those who put mustard and/or Miracle Whip in potato salad, then I will totally judge those evil doers).
And on the flip side, whenever the hoi polloi is fascinated with a new fad or style, I am both wary and disdainful. I don’t do social media, but if it has so permeated the Facespace and Twaddle that it spills over to the rest of the interwebs, where I may then read about it, then it’s truly reached peak saturation.
But the very worst?
There are two types of preparation. The original begins with oats and goes from there. But there’s another kind, I call it overnight eats, because the oats are optional.
Add ½ cup old-fashioned oats. 
Almond milk
Chocolate milk
Seeds 
Nut butter
A tablespoon or 2 of brown butter
Citrus zest
Apple Sauce
Maple syrup
Molasses
When ready to eat, uncover, stir, and add a little milk if it’s too stiff.
You can also go savory. Add cheese, sautéed veggies, bacon or sausage, and instead of milk, use stock. Then top it with a poached egg; which you can also make the night before. Just give it a light poach. Then, in the morning just float it in simmering water for a minute or less to heat and finish cooking.
So, I have succumbed to a viral sensation. But I swear on my cranky little heart that I have not, and never will pinstergram my breakfast.
The Kid likes to project a certain image. Being raised in the city has convinced the child of possessing colossal amounts of “street cred” accumulated from years of living on the mean streets.
Don’t get me wrong; there’s a certain amount of the aforementioned street cred. My spawn is afraid to go nowhere and is in no way gullible or a soft touch.
I have seen this “misanthrope” walk out of restaurant carrying takeout, only to give it away to someone who needs it. I also have seen, on more than one occasion, the effort to make things right when we’re in an establishment and another customer is being an arrogant butthead. Whether it’s doubling the tip or giving the put-upon employee an opportunity to vent, The Kid tries to make it better.
“Do you have somebody that loves you?”
So, that’s The Kid—a stealth altruist.
If, Gentle Reader, you’ve read more than a few of these published psychological exsanguinations of mine, then you probably wouldn’t be very surprised to discover that most of what I think is either spontaneously spoken to all present or written down for public consumption.
This means that I’m constantly striking up conversations with strangers. And through this I meet awesome people every single day.
What my kind, but uber-reticent child resolved to do is when observing something that deserves praise, gives it. If speaking up can brighten someone’s day, why stay silent?
And, inspired by my bambino, I’ve worked hard to overcome my innate bashfulness and attempt sharing as well.
bull city mom 