Who Doesn’t Enjoy A Creamy Delight?

I am instructed by a teenage girl to be cautious, thoughtful and respectful in how I talk to women.

“If she is almost 50 you cannot call her a girl.”

I turn my head and smile, “sometimes they like being called a girl. Sometimes they like being called my girl.”

She rolls her eyes at me, says I am so gross and I remind her not to mess with her abba.

“Your aunts will tell you I can run circles around your big brother and that I have an unlimited bag of tricks. I have watched you for your whole life and I know how you think.”

She doesn’t entirely believe or disbelieve me so she tries pushing back and messing with me.

“Did I ever tell you about the girl who told me I….”

“Stop dad! That is gross!”

I chuckle, say I love you and walk away.

She is at that age where my just being around embarrasses her so I know all I have to do is hint and she’ll fold.

Don’t tell her I said that. She is already smarter than I am and will eventually figure it out, but for now…

Who Doesn’t Enjoy A Creamy Delight?

There was a minor debate about whether peanut butter is referred to as crunchy or chunky that reminded me a bit about discussions people have about who kissed who first.

Since I am not of the revisionist history type I can speak to all things and share how I chose not to reveal the results of the 1932 George Washington Carver Peanut Butter marketing session.

That was when the fine folks of the peanut gallery decided that chunky was the most accurate and factual term to use.

It was also the time of the great hurling, which in a terrible coincidence took place at the same marketing session.

Barron Holtz, the head of the marketing board brought sandwiches in that fateful day, not knowing that the butcher shop that had prepared the meat for his sandwiches had improperly stored said meat.

As you might have guessed those that ate the bad meat found themselves the victims of a horrific food poisoning. One poor victim said his head was spinning so badly he thought he was lying on a sandy beach and instead realized that he was wrong.

“Sir, I didn’t just vomit, I blew chunks and was left with a real ripper of a headache. I told my wife Martha that there was no monkeying around here. I was at the beck and call of the beast.”


Friends, I don’t need to fill you in on any more details to help you understand that his comment about blowing chunks made the rest of the board wonder and worry if chunky would be associated with vomit.

So they moved to call the chunky stuff crunchy and now you have the rest of the story.


If we were sharing a Pizzookie and discussing life I might offer you a creamy delight. You might call that overkill but on a hot, muggy night who doesn’t want to swallow one.

Refreshing goodness in a way that cools the body and warms the heart.


We watched the aforementioned teenage girl win an award at school and then headed out to dinner to celebrate.

Shortly thereafter I found myself sitting on the couch at home watching the final episode of season 2 of Fauda.

It is one my favorite shows.

I find it to be a very useful tool at practicing my Hebrew at a conversational pace and not spoken slowly and clearly the way some people do when they know you’re not a native.

Generally the subtitles make it easy for me to catch the few parts and pieces I miss.

Sometimes I find myself watching and thinking about how different life would have been if I had followed through with the paperwork in ’95.

Don’t mistake that to mean all the years since are filled with regret but instead understand I hear bells with the great loves of my life and the bells in Jerusalem never stop ringing.

One day the time will come when I answer them again.


The strange thing about being 49 is the bizarre ways in which my body responds to exercise.

I hit the gym daily and on the few days I miss there is always some sort of exercise alternative, Walking, push ups, curls at home etc.

This old wreck doesn’t want to respond as it once did. I feel myself getting stronger and parts of my body make it clear that it is not just a feeling.

But not all.

Some of me just doesn’t deign to get to with the program and that is frustrating.

People tell me if I adjust my diet further I can change that, but I haven’t decided to do that yet. Haven’t determined that I am willing to give up some of the joy of eating to get real skinny.

Must be a compromise. Must be an option. I just have to find it.

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