blythely

Googled something about quick hydration and it suggested big jug of water, couple tbsp pickle juice, dash of lime juice.

Pleased to report that after a day of this i am not longer craving caper brine and my mouth is not dry as usual. There's some good suggestions in the notes too that I want to try.

I have been reminded of:

I have now been informed of

"Wow, I wonder why this post was popular this week."

The worst types of cookbook:

#the overachiever: make this very time consuming ingredient from scratch even though it'll end up tasting worse than store bought

Today I start my ninth decade on earth. It’s astounding and distressing, but I suppose it’s better than the alternative. In his latter years, my father would always answer my weekly phone question, “How are you, Dad?” with a brisk “Still here!” Several of my joints ache, I can’t remember shit, I can no longer do 20 pushups at a clip, several good friends have passed, my bald spot is claiming more territory, and I can’t hear very well (especially in restaurants). But, hey, I’m still here. And hardly alone. All 1946 boomers still here are turning 80. More babies were born in 1946 than in any other year of American history up to then. Dolly Parton is one. She has been 80 since January 19 of this year. I still haven’t met her. Meeting her has been on my bucket list for six decades. She’s my height. We have similar values. I’ve been in love with her since I was 15, but so far, zilch. When I was a small boy, my grandma Frances was courted by a man named Jack Hirsch, who was then 80. I had never before encountered someone as old as Jack. I was scared to speak loudly in his presence, or sneeze, or cough, for fear he’d fall over and die. I remember thinking he could be Methuselah (who, according to the Bible, lived until the ripe old age of 969). What happens after you hit a ripe old age? Do you ripen until you rot? Three score and ten is the number of years of life set out in the Bible. Modern technology and Big Pharma add at least a decade, bringing us 1946 boomers to where we are now. Yesterday I ran into a former student who upon seeing me exclaimed, “You look great!” I thanked her even though she was probably just being polite. An elderly friend once told me there were four ages to life: youth, middle age, old age, and “You look great.” I’m now in the fourth stage. My wish for you is that you have a long lifespan and a long health-span, that you relish every day you have, spend time with people you love and value, let go of all the petty crap, wish no one ill (except perhaps Trump), and continue to fight for what’s good and noble and important. And regardless of your age, my thanks to you for joining me on this journey. (By the way, you look great.)