Squeeky Cheese

It's here! It's here!

A great blast from my past!

It was supposed to be here Friday, but no one was home to welcome it. The anticipation was too great, and I succumbed to strep throat. It knocked me out all week.

As I was lying here, on my death bed, pondering my very existence, I heard the rumble of a large truck, followed by the screeching of brakes. Mrs. The Practicalist looked at me with big eyes, and said simply, "It's here!" With those words, I suddenly jumped up and landed in my pants (perfect shot) and booked it to the front door, at the exact moment as the double-knock (a knock which had become familiar to us during the Christmas season). Mrs. P opened the door to my view, and there stood the man in brown.

"I just have the one package today," he said. He looked into my eyes, and knew he had one more satisfied customer.

As the door closed, I was in the process of ripping the box open. As the flaps separated, the music cued up: Cheese! Glorious Cheese!

There before my eyes sat FOUR pounds of beautiful yellowish-orange mild cheddar cheese curds.


Now, Mrs. The Practicalist had actually purchased a smaller shipment for Valentine's day. And it was a wonderful surprise, indeed. And they were the first curds I had had in many years.

So what was so special about these?

I grew up in Northern Utah, Cache Valley, to be exact. On the other side of the mountain was a dairy. One day, my mom came home with a big bag of the greatest snack I have ever had in my entire young life. It squeaked as we chewed it, and the flavor was so unique and pure.

We move away when I was still very young. A few years ago, the food channel went to a state fair in Wisconsin and mentioned this "squeaky cheese" that was all the rage there. All of a sudden, I tasted that scrumptious flavor, felt that spongy texture, and heard that soft squeak of the cheese as I sat on the front porch with my brothers passing the bag around.

Well, I found that dairy on line. I ordered that cheese. And I now hold a bag of it, and have to keep wiping off my keyboard.

No.

No.

Get your own!

A Most Memorable Movie Moment

Is there a scene from a movie that you could watch over and over, and enjoy it just as much every time? For me, there are but a few, one of which is from the 1978 film version of Les Miserables.

Valjean, having escaped from prison after nearly 20 years, has become hardened. Dirty and in rags, having been chased and beaten, with long hair and beard, he knocks on the door of the bishop to beg a meal. The bishop, a small, soft, gentle man kindly welcomes him in as though he were an expected guest, and even has the servant provide him the finest silver on which to eat. He has her prepare a bed with clean linens. Says the bishop, "You are more at home here than I am; and all that I have is your." Valjean says, "You don't even know who I am." Replies the bishop, "Oh, but I do; you are my brother and I can tell that you have suffered greatly."

That night, Valjean cleans out the silver cabinet and takes off.

Queue the clip:

My Dear Psychosis

The Congress is again taking up the challenge to require health care providers to cover mental health. Can you imagine how much this will increase the cost of health insurance?! I am not disagreeing that there are legitimate psychological disorders. I've seen a few. I've also seen a lot of attention-seeking, behavior-justifying, hypo-psycho-condriacs.

I read a case just recently in Arkansas where a man took his former daughter-in-law to court to enforce "grandparent visitation" rights. When the mom resisted, he had the court require psychological evaluations. His psychologist diagnosed the mom with a case of "seeing herself as more than others see her" and something like "dependent out-to-get-me-itis" where you allow someone else's "out-to-get-me-itis" enhance your own "out-to-get-me-itis." This was apparently enough for the court to declare that grandpa was better fit than the mom whom the grandpa had badgered to crap out of to get to see his grandkids. That alone is enough for another blog. What got me was the diagnoses. Unless you are depressed, you probably think others think of you more than they actually do. I didn't realize that was an illness. I better go see a psychiatrist to see if he can't help me get depressed so I can see him to try to help me get over my depression. And wouldn't it seem that if your father in law has been somewhat abusive, and takes you to court every time your schedule doesn't allow you to take the grandkids over to his house, and then sends the cops after you when you take the kids out of state (the kids' dad was dead, so she wasn't running from him), and then moves the court to take your kids, you would feel a little like maybe, just maybe, he had something out for you?
So, if everyone is psychologically ill to some degree, do you really think it would be fiscally wise to cover it in a standard health insurance plan? Is it too much to ask that, if you really fear that you will have mental health problems, maybe you could buy mental health insurance? Do they offer that kind of insurance, or can I just keep a running tab with my shrink's office? I'll ask him next time. I know he is thinking of me right now. He might even be out to get me.