Hot, But Not Bothered

I had lunch at Swing Thai today. Drunken Noodles with chicken, medium spice. I'd been told never to order food "hot" at a Thai restaurant, and even though I like spicy food I haven't had the guts to ignore that advice yet.

My dad didn't care for ethnic foods like Mexican, Indian or Chinese -- he said he'd worked in the kitchen of a Chinese restaurant once and that was enough to make him never want to eat at one again. But he still ate some hot stuff. Specifically, cherry peppers straight from the jar. What was funny was how he'd insist they weren't hot, despite his face turning crimson and dripping sweat.

I've been doing some informal training for Buffalo Wild Wings Blazin' Challenge -- 12 wings in their hottest sauce in less than six minutes. Zak and I go sometimes after his Friday soccer practices. I'm up to eating six wings in their second-hottest sauce with no problem, so I feel like in another couple of visits I'll be ready to give it a shot. I'm sure my mother will be proud.

Zak's showing an impressive tolerance for spicy food at a young age. I double-dog-dared him to try some Green Pepper Tabasco Sauce at Qdoba once and he agreed. But when I grabbed a chip to put some on he shook his head and stuck out his tongue. So I poured a few drops right on it and he was pretty unfazed.

I offered him a dollar once to eat a chili pepper from an order of P.F. Chang's Kung Pao Scallops and he did that without blinking an eye, too. Then he promptly asked for his dollar. We're apparently raising quite a little capitalist.

Zak and my dad will unfortunately only meet in my head until we're all together in Heaven, but the thought of them sitting together on the couch sharing a jar of cherry peppers does make me chuckle.

At Least They Don't Chew Their Cuds

Zak and Taryn are grazers. They just can't -- or won't -- eat a lot at one sitting. The times we've tried to make them have usually ended in disaster -- i.e., vomit.

We've given them the "well, this is what's for dinner so don't expect any more later" line. We've negotiated with them in an "all right, just have two more bites of rice and one more bite of broccoli" fashion. We haven't tried the guilt angle with "there are people starving in Ethiopia" yet, but I don't think it would register at their ages anyway.

What I can't figure out is why we're trying so hard. Studies have shown that eating smaller meals more frequently throughout the day is actually healthier. It helps you avoid getting too hungry and overeating, and keeps your metabolism up so your energy level stays more consistent.

I'm sure part of it has to do with our own upbringings and habits. I have vivid memories of staring at the last cold piece of kielbasa or bite of babka on my plate long after the rest of my family had left the dining room table. I think my sister Dawn got to do it even more often than I did.

I wouldn't follow my kids' lead on most things -- for instance, which shirt and pants go together. But they just might have the right idea on this one.

Frankly, I'm all for anything that lowers my chances of having to clean up puke.

Favre and Away

I like Brett Favre. As a Broncos employee for more than 10 years and prior to that a lifelong Dallas Cowboys fan that may come as a surprise. But I honestly do. I even still have a Favre jersey I won in a bet at least 12 years ago. But for crying out loud, can we PLEASE just end the seemingly never-ending saga of is-Brett-going-to-play-or-not, with the added wrinkle this time of if-so-where?

Like the swallows returning to San Juan Capistrano and Britney Spears making us think she's finally hit rock bottom, Brett announcing whether or not he was going to retire had become quite the annual ritual. A ritual that had apparently finally come to an end when he said in March that retire was exactly what he intended to do. Four short months later, and the rumors are moving at breakneck speed that he wants to un-retire, but the Packers don't want him back, so he wants them to release him only they have no intention of doing that, either.

Brett, the Packers organization and goodness knows the fans all deserve a clean resolution to this increasingly messy situation. Fortunately, I have the answer.

Danelle and I had a system we used to use when we were trying to decide where to go to dinner. We retired the system once issues like whether or not the menus could be colored on became critical factors, but up until that time it served us well.

Basically, we'd each throw out a few options and then we'd take turns ranking them all on a scale of one to 10 with one being "would rather eat dog food" and 10 being "would pick this for my last meal." Whatever place ended up with the highest combined score is where we'd go.

I know what you're thinking -- it's way too easy for one party to manipulate the numbers so that their favorite option ends up winning. Sure, Danelle and I both may have fudged a teeny bit to tip the scales the way we wanted them to fall. But for the most part we played it straight. Besides, the fudging on each side usually just ends up cancelling itself out.

So in the Favre-Packers scenario, I can see Brett presenting options like guarantee me the starting job, give me my unconditional release or trade me. The Packers would counter with choices like stay retired, come back as the backup or accept a trade.

You can already see where this would end up. If both parties played it straight -- or at least fudged to appreciably the same degree -- some sort of trade would likely end up the winner. And that's pretty much how I expect this to end up, though unfortunately I doubt the path it takes to get there will have as little acrimony as this method.

As for how to decide where he should be traded? Well, we employed rock-paper-scissors pretty regularly when dealing with dirty diapers...

Minor Surgery is Surgery That Someone Else Has

Things that are bad: Pain, nausea, daytime TV (no matter how many channels you have)

Things that are good: Vicodin, Danelle, Domino's Bacon Cheeseburger Feast

That's about all I can muster. Hopefully I'll feel up to more tomorrow.

I Hope The Big Green Turn Out Better Hand Surgeons Than Hockey Players

Short and early post today. I'm a bit preoccupied with my upcoming wrist surgery later this afternoon. This morning at 7:00 was the last time I could eat or drink anything, so I'm just going to get surlier as the day goes on. Nice combo with my increasing anxiety. Is it wrong that I really wanted to lick the leftover cottage cheese off of Taryn's lunch plate?

If my anesthesiologist allows it I'm thinking about just getting the arm block and staying awake during the procedure. She assured me if I go that route that I won't be able to smell my own burning flesh as they drill into my bones. I remain skeptical. Staying conscious through your own surgery seems like it would be a pretty interesting experience, though after two c-sections Danelle might have a dissenting opinion.

I did a little online research on the doctor doing the surgery and found out he went to Dartmouth. So I feel good about his education, but I also want to yell at him that his hockey team sucks. I'll try to resist that urge until after he's done cutting my arm open.

Thoughts and prayers for a successful procedure and speedy recovery are certainly welcome. Assuming I'm coherent enough I should resume normal posting tomorrow. If I'm not I may post anyway. That could be REALLY entertaining.

Who Knew Sharp Metal Objects, Raw Meat and Boiling Oil at Your Table Could Actually Be a Good Idea?

I took Danelle to one of our favorite restaurants for her birthday tonight, The Melting Pot. Her mom was nice enough to watch the kids, who are still young enough to enjoy sleepovers at Nana's house.

The first time I ever went to a fondue restaurant was our first anniversary almost 16 years ago. When Danelle suggested it my response was, "Sounds good. Where are we going to eat afterwards?" I had no idea that sort of meal could actually be filling and satisfying, but all those little pieces of meat actually do add up to something substantive.

Then after we had kids we grew to appreciate another aspect of a fondue dinner -- how "adult" it is. And I don't mean that in a Skinemax way. The multiple courses, the liesurely pace as you cook your own food, the complete absence of crayons. It's nice to have a meal out that's not a race to see what gets to the table first -- tears, pee or the check.

They had an incredible salad that we always ordered that was essentially just a big plate of mushrooms and a sprinkling of lettuce with a special garlic & wine seasoning. It was taken off the menu, but they'll still make it when ordered. I love outstanding service to long-time customers like that.

Danelle got a little When Harry Met Sally with dessert tonight and asked to substitute dark chocolate for milk chocolate. Dark chocolate always make me thing of this kid I took Home Economics with in 8th grade, Billy Rivers. Dark chocolate made him sick, and he hated Home Ec. So on days he really didn't want to be there he'd bring one of those little Hershey's dark chocolate miniatures, eat it right at the start of class, puke a few minutes later and get sent to the nurse. And lucky me got to sit at his table.

Fortunately there was no puking tonight, though I think we were both stuffed enough to want to. Just a nice meal and good conversation with the woman I love, and nary a bendy straw in sight.

When They Invent a Rice Cake That Tastes Like a Whopper, I'll Probably Be First in Line

I just got back from my physical, which went pretty well with a couple of exceptions. One was the nurse practitioner making quite a production of putting some KY and a pair of surgical gloves out for the doctor, and the other was my cholesterol being a little high.

I first got my cholesterol checked a couple of years ago, and was pretty upset to learn that it was 222. This put me squarely in the "borderline-high risk" category. Compounded with my dad's history of heart problems that eventually led to his early death, I was a little freaked out.

I'm pretty physically active and I don't smoke, so the area where I could most effect a positive change was clearly diet. And there was an easy target within my regular diet -- fast food. I went cold turkey with it and got my cholesterol down into the "desirable" zone at 191 just a few months later.

I've definitely backslid in the ensuing two years to the point where I probably have a fast-food meal two or three times a week, and now my cholesterol is back up to 209. My LDL or "bad" cholesterol level is 136, another "borderline high" number and "a better gauge of risk than total blood cholesterol" according to the American Heart Association.

My doctor said she'd like to see me try and correct this on my own over the next couple of years, then consider medication once I turn 40 if my numbers aren't where they should be. There are probably genetic factors involved that may make this something I can't do on my own. But the real question now is how much am I willing to try?

I know fast food is horrible for you. I saw Super Size Me, which probably would have been more effective if Spurlock hadn't taken his fast-food eating to unrealistically excessive levels. His point became dangerously easy to dismiss when he was doing things like eating multiple entrees at one sitting. But even setting portion control aside, I don't think anyone would argue that a McGriddle and a Coke is as healthy a breakfast as a bowl of high-fiber cereal in fat-free milk with a glass of pomegranate juice.

It comes down to a classic struggle -- sacrificing short-term and direct benefits for long-term, indirect ones. Fast food is convenient, cheap and generally tasty (curse you, MSG!). The benefits of eating healthy are things you may or may not end up getting, and that will also be influenced by a lot of other factors -- better overall health, higher quality of life, longer life and so on. And your stereotypical "healthy" food like a salad can't easily be eaten while driving, is likely to be more expensive than a burger and doesn't excite basic taste sensations like salty, sweet and umami (don't feel bad clicking the link; I had to look that last one up, too).

We face these kind of questions all the time in our lives. Should I play outside and get some fresh air and exercise or just watch another music video? Should I study for that exam that might help me raise my overall GPA to where I get that interview for that great job in a few years, or should I just go to that frat party and get tanked? Should I stay late to finish up that project at work that might help me get a raise and promotion someday, or should I just go home and watch the big game?

Long-term benefits may be harder to quantify, harder to get and feel a lot less in my control. But when I take the time to really think about them, I generally realize they're much more worth having. Is eating that BK Stacker worth the risk of not being around to bounce my grandchildren on my knee? No contest. I just don't often take the time to think about things in those terms, and I don't think I'm unique in that regard.

So I'll try to say good-bye again to Guacamole Bacon Burgers and Spicy Chicken Sandwiches. Sure, I could get hit by a bus and all the sound diet and exercise choices won't matter. But however I eventually go out, I'd like to believe I was mature enough to make sensible choices and set a good example for my kids along the way.

Besides, if I didn't believe in doing things with no direct short-term benefits I probably wouldn't be blogging.

Nobody Gets Hungry in Louisville After 10 P.M.

I went to see my buddy Rick Fisher play with his band Panhandle Daddyz last night. They performed at a place called the Waterloo Icehouse in Louisville, which touts "Real Food - Real Music - Real Friends" on its home page. I checked out the menu and saw that they had chicken and apple sausages with beer cheese sauce, which sounded like a step up from normal bar fare. So I was looking forward to both some good music and some good food.

I got there about 9:15, got a beer and chatted with Rick and some of his other buddies before they went on about 9:45. A couple of songs into their set I decided it was time for the sausages so I tried to get the waitress' attention, which ended up taking about 10 minutes before I succeeded. I wasn't in any particular hurry, though,

I told her I'd like to try the sausages and she gave me a sympathetic little pout, "Sorry, hon. The kitchen closes at 10:00." I quickly checked the time on my cell phone -- it was 10:03. "I can get you some chips and salsa, though."

I was too taken aback to respond intelligently, so I just politely declined. But I felt a little like Michael Douglas' character in Falling Down when he got to Whammy Burger at 11:34 and was told he couldn't order breakfast because they didn't serve it after 11:30. Without the psychotic rage and automatic weapons, of course.

The Daddyz ended up playing two sets and I didn't leave until about 12:45, and I finally did break down and grudgingly order some chips and salsa. Waterloo Icehouse certainly isn't the only restaurant/bar to close their kitchen early. But the whole thing got me wondering if this practice really makes sense.

Could it have to do with paying the kitchen staff for those extra two or three hours? You've got be operating on a razor-thin margin if that's the case. A lot of McDonald's franchises are able to serve food 24 hours a day charging two bucks for a burger, and the Icehouse charges $10 for theirs. It doesn't seem like you would need too many food orders during those final few hours to cover your expenses.

Is the profit on alcohol sales so much greater that there's a concern about cannibalizing those revenues with lower-margin items like food? Frankly, I'm likely to drink MORE when I'm eating than when I'm not. Besides, can you imagine The Gap cutting off sales of jeans two hours before they close because they make more money on belts?

Couldn't there at least be more of an effort made to set appropriate expectations? There's some small text on the bottom of the Waterloo Icehouse home page that says "kitchen closes after dinner," but I didn't see any similar notice in the actual establishment (never mind that "dinner" isn't an actual time). The waitress never said anything, either. If I'd known, I would have just ordered the sausages earlier.

I'm not a restaurateur or a bar owner, and those who are must have a reason for this. But I am a customer, and I'm pretty sure whatever that reason is it doesn't have much to do with me.

Ah, well. At least the Icehouse lived up to its music and friends billing, so Meat Loaf would have been satisfied.