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Showing posts from July, 2021

The Devil is in the Sugar Rush

Friends, The Devil might literally be in the details. Lurking. Waiting to call-out trivial inconsistencies. She may point to the anachronistic (and ubiquitous) “Tokyo 2020” branding. How much of a dent would a logo redo and new stationary have made on the $20 Billion Olympic budget? Or, make me chuckle at the little boy doing the sign of the cross with the church hand sanitizer. In his defense, it’s located where the holy water used to be. This literal interpretation of the expression might help explain the sign at this week’s donut shop. From a distance the billboard appears to simply read “Donuts”. Unoriginal, perhaps, but certainly appropriate. As you get closer, the fine print reveals the full name: “ Sugar Rush Donuts ”.  Using classic logic, one might say that since (A) the Devil is in the details and (B) the details on the store sign revealed "Sugar Rush" was part of the name, ergo, (C) the Devil is in the Sugar Rush (or at minimum, in the ensuing crash). Happy Friday!

Accidental Culinary Innovations

Friends, Have you ever inadvertently fermented spaghetti sauce? Yeah, me neither… until yesterday, that is! Imagine my surprise when the half-full bottle, sitting in the fridge from time immemorial, made a sound akin to opening a beer bottle, instantly filling the glass container with a hazy smoke. As the carbonation dissipated, I grabbed a spoon to conduct the obligatory taste test. How was it? I’m glad you asked! Let’s just say chunky carbonated tomato beer is not my thing (although I must admit that if I had been expecting it, my reaction might have been a little more… composed). Now, if you forgo the fermentation and switch the tomato paste with spicy salsa… that might be the next million dollar idea! Sparkling sriracha anyone? How about Carbonated Cholula?   Bubbly Habanero? Fizzy Jalapeño?? I could go on, but I have a feeling Gassy Guac might not fly off the shelves. Now, if only I could stumble on a way to improve donuts. Carbonated Jelly filling… yeah, maybe not. I think

Fear and Donuts

Friends, When challenging a loved one’s exaggerated fear, you should always pray the behavior you’re trying to prove “safe” does not, ironically, lead to the dreaded outcome. Your son won’t go outside due to a bee phobia? Don’t get stung mid-sentence... “if you don’t bother them, they won’t... ouch!” (if you do, stoicism is strongly advised). Wife afraid of slipping on ice lurking beneath snowy trail patches? Better not lose your footing while proving her wrong (you and your sore coccis may never hear the end of it). Improbable events are not impossible, and, if Murphy’s Law has its way, any attempt to make a point about such improbability might just trigger them. It’s preferable to acknowledge a very small (but real) risk exists that something may lurk in the dark, than to suggest it’s impossible while inadvertently stepping on the cat’s tail (that child may never sleep with the lights off again). How about you? Ever bring about the unlikely consequences of an act you were trying to p

A Giant Fades

  Friends, There’s something sempiternal about trees. Majestic specimens with perfect balance and symmetry have the power to inspire and lift downtrodden spirits. Those fortunate enough to avoid the timber mill and furniture factory can lead some astonishingly long lives. Thousand year oaks and araucarias, two thousand year baobabs and figs, three thousand year sequoias and jequitibá-rosa, four thousand year yew and cypress, five thousand year bristlecone pines and six thousand year olives (not to mention clonal trees with shared root systems – there’s a male quaking aspen colony, named Pando, believed to be somewhere north of 14 thousand years old!). Yet, even under ideal circumstances, trees eventually die. Plains cottonwoods have a 70 year average lifespan and, while allergy sufferers might consider them giant weeds, they can be beautiful. As they near their end, fewer leaves emerge each year. The bark is shed and bleached branches call to mind a giant skeletal relic of its f

Ghost Towns and Progress

Friends, Progress, measured in quality of life improvements and enabled by technological infrastructure, seems inevitable. Agriculture, sanitation, transportation, communications, industrialization, healthcare, electrification and computing would all appear to follow a linear, upward trajectory. But, are we guaranteed a higher life expectancy, greater convenience and ever-increasing productivity? Not necessarily. It’s healthy to challenge the implied assumptions that progress is beneficial, universal, undeviating and unavoidable. Take ghost towns. Last week I had the opportunity to visit Inter-Laken, a late-1800s boomtown which once competed with Aspen for the affluent tourist’s dollar. The two mile hike to this abandoned relic begins with a dubious trail at the unmarked dead end of an unremarkable dirt road. The gorgeous trek takes you through lakeside rolling hills, lush with wildflowers and shaded by pine and aspen trees. Just when you think you’ve taken a wrong turn and doubt you’l