Photo Essay: Larry & Rosa Beck's Stall at the Provo Farmer's Market

Larry has been a good friend ever since I moved back to Provo several years ago. He's a busy guy. He drives a school bus, raises rabbits and produce, and works his own stall at the Provo Farmer's Market every Saturday from May until October, with his wife Rosa. He offers some of the freshest, ripest produce at the Market:

                                                                Rosa handles the money

                                                 Larry always hands out a lot of samples

                                                                They make a good team

Despite the blonde's seeming apprehension in the bottom right hand corner, Larry & Rosa did a brisk business on Saturday.

And it was gorgeous weather for an outdoor market; people are at their best in pleasant sunshine, surrounded by crispy earthy produce

Drone Delivery

All the drones were hijacked on that sunny August day.

The pizza and the sushi were diverted on their way.

Instead of feeding slackers or a stockbroker supine,

The food was flown to people with a diminutive waistline.

The hungry and the homeless found fried chicken at their feet,

And with a hexacopter whir the cream brulee was sweet.

Single mothers struggling to make a decent meal

For their kids discovered that ol’ Santa Claus was real --

When a hovercraft with fruit and veggies did appear,

With a week’s supply of groceries and no price tag near.

Who had done this high-tech act of criminality?

Investigators now suspect the Man from Galilee.

Deal Justly

“. . . and every man did deal justly one with another.”

To deal my bread with bias gone.

To never make conclusion drawn.

To view my neighbor as myself.

To never pander for mere pelf.

To let the Christ my heart o’erturn,

Until true fairness I do learn.

O hear our fitful prayers to Thee,

And cover us with charity!

Is Oreo's New Mystery Flavor Petitgrain?

Those Oreo people . . . they’re pretty smart cookies (ouch!)

The company, a subsidiary of Nestle, has been making front page news for the past several months by releasing the famous cookie in limited batches of different flavors. First there was raspberry; then strawberry; then lemon. In France they marketed an Oreo with rum-flavored filling, but the French turned up their Gallic noses at it before you could say ‘crepe suzette.’

Now the company is ballyhooing a brand new ‘mystery’ flavor, vowing that they will never divulge what the actual flavor is, except to say it is very ‘new age’, ‘refreshing’, and ‘a little disruptive.’

But several food bloggers have let the cat out of the bag: they claim that the mystery flavor is petitgrain, an essential oil from the bitter orange tree. How do they know? They’re not saying, except to hint that an ‘anonymous source close to the company’ has told them that secret taste tests in California and Georgia have shown that the majority of participants enjoyed the taste of petitgrain in their Oreo cookies, calling it ‘refreshing’ and ‘happifying.’ Adding to the possibility of it being petitgrain, Nestle, Oreo’s parent company, has just set up a food-grade oil extracting plant in Paraguay, where the best bitter orange trees grow.

But food industry experts say that it would be far too expensive to set up new machinery for a completely new solo flavor. Rather, they say Oreo is probably going to combine two of its already existing experimental flavors, such as PB and J with Apple Pie, to come up with the new mystery flavor.

As the British like to say, the proof of the pudding is in the eating -- which we’ll change to the proof of the cookie is in the eating.

Whether Oreos will ever become associated with petitgrain oil, modern research shows that the essential oil does have a definitely positive effect on sleep patterns and on the digestive system. It is a good essential oil to keep in the home for health and serenity. As with all essential oils, it will last almost indefinitely as long as it is kept in a glass container away from direct sunlight in a cool place.

For further information, and for an absolutely free, no obligation, sample of three of the most commonly used oils, including lemon and lavender, contact Wellness Advocate Amy Snyder at http://bit.ly/2vHgrH6 Please put your name and address in her Comments box.  She has used these superb essential oils for years herself and will be delighted to share her experiences with you in a professional and friendly manner!

NOTICE TO READERS: The information contained in this blog is for educational purposes only. It is not intended to diagnose, prescribe, or treat any emotional or physical condition, illness, or injury. The author, publishers, and distributors of this blog shall have no liability or responsibility to any person or entity with respect to any and all alleged damage, loss, or injury caused or alleged to be caused directly or indirectly by the information contained in this work. This work contains suggested uses of oils based on acceptable dosage amounts recommended by the manufacturer. The author makes no claim to have verified or validated these suggestions. The readers must validate acceptable dosage amounts from the manufacturer before application. The information in this book is in no way intended as a substitute for medical advice. We recommend that all readers obtain medical advice from a licensed healthcare professional before using essential oils for any reason.

The Elegant French President Emmanuel Macron

The elegant French President Emmanuel Macron

Gets a beauty treatment ev’ry cotton-pickin’ dawn.

Before he sets a foot outside the Palace Elysee

His pompadour’s refurbished with some overpriced hair spray.

His nails are buffed by maidens from the district of Bordeaux.

His pedicure is handled while he’s sipping on Pernod.

A barber from Aix-en-Provence scrapes his chin with plat’num blade.

Vagrant nose hairs are removed and kept in sweet pomade.

A touch of rouge is gently laid upon his flaccid cheeks.

He’s sprayed with eau de cologne until he positively reeks.

The Minister of Culture plucks the President’s eyebrows.

His neck is then massaged with the placenta of milch cows.

His ears are probed for any wax that might just might compromise

His haute couture or start a war with any French allies.

The elegant French President Emmanuel Macron

Is ready then to recommend the Budget be redrawn.

Mark Twain Discovers Cinnamon Bark Oil

Mark Twain is perhaps America’s most beloved storyteller. His tales of the mischievous Tom Sawyer and hapless Pudd’nhead Wilson are still read and enjoyed by thousands today, long after the author turned in his quill and shuffled off this mortal coil. As a humorist, Twain remains unsurpassed in the trenchant and sometimes mordant humor he could contain in just a few words. He said, concerning politics: “It is better to keep your mouth shut and let people think you are a fool than to open it and remove all doubt.”

But in 1897, Twain himself was in danger of losing his voice forever, along with his life! He was touring the Indian subcontinent as part of a world-wide lecture series to restore his embattled finances. But the heat and exhausting schedule laid him low in Calcutta, first with a cold, and then with pneumonia. In those days before antibiotics, there was not much to be done with a pneumonia victim except to make them comfortable and await the outcome. Twain took to his bed, and, an inveterate cigar smoker who refused to give up the unhealthy habit, he began sinking fast. British physicians called in on the case could only shake their heads, amid clouds of tobacco smoke, and remonstrate with Twain to refrain from his deadly habit until he got better. This he refused to do -- until he was introduced to cinnamon bark oil by an Indian surgeon who was called in to treat Twain’s waning appetite. The native surgeon put a drop of cinnamon oil in a glass of water for Twain to drink. Immediately, Twain’s appetite began returning -- and, even more heartening, his appetite for tobacco began to subside!

It took several weeks for Mark Twain to fully recuperate, but he was undoubtedly helped along by abstaining from his beloved cigars. He added a generous bonus to the Indian surgeon’s fee, and continued to use cinnamon bark oil as a digestive aid and to control his nicotine habit for the rest of his tour of India. This episode gave rise to the rumor that Twain had actually passed away -- to which he quipped to reporters: “The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.”

Nowadays we know that cinnamon bark oil is an extraordinary aid in helping the immune system function properly, as well as a favorite flavoring agent in all sorts of food. Mark Twain’s belief in its effects on smoking cessation have never been followed up by any regular research -- but who knows? Some day the essential oil might indeed be used in addiction management.

For further information, and for an absolutely free, no obligation, sample of three of the most commonly used oils, including lemon and lavender, contact Wellness Advocate Amy Snyder at http://bit.ly/2vHgrH6 Please put your name and address in her Comments box.  She has used these superb essential oils for years herself and will be delighted to share her experiences with you in a professional and friendly manner!

NOTICE TO READERS: The information contained in this blog is for educational purposes only. It is not intended to diagnose, prescribe, or treat any emotional or physical condition, illness, or injury. The author, publishers, and distributors of this blog shall have no liability or responsibility to any person or entity with respect to any and all alleged damage, loss, or injury caused or alleged to be caused directly or indirectly by the information contained in this work. This work contains suggested uses of oils based on acceptable dosage amounts recommended by the manufacturer. The author makes no claim to have verified or validated these suggestions. The readers must validate acceptable dosage amounts from the manufacturer before application. The information in this book is in no way intended as a substitute for medical advice. We recommend that all readers obtain medical advice from a licensed healthcare professional before using essential oils for any reason.

The Wall That Destroyed a Nation

Once upon a time there was a Washington DC,

Where Congress and the President played out their fantasy.

The President told Congress that he wanted a long wall

To keep out any trespassers who might steal his golf ball.

The Congress told the President they didn’t give a hoot

About his wall -- and called him nothing but a dumb galoot.

The President got angry, so he used his mighty quill

To cut off any funding coming to that haughty Hill.

Congress got so angry at this terrible affront

They cauterized the White House as a democratic stunt.

The President then authorized the Pentagon to shoot

Members of the Congress for to keep them very mute.

Meanwhile all the people grew so tired of this farce

They packed and left the country, so the landscape became sparse.

For all I know the President and Congress still remain

At each other’s throat while no one uses any brain.

I have no ending for this tale, absurd as it became --

Except that ev’ryone involved has never felt much shame.

Does Donald Trump Still Use Clary Oil?

Does he or doesn't he?

HIstory records many notable leaders who used essential oils to bolster their physical appearance and calm their tingled nerves. Pharaoh Khufu of Egypt was said to use sesame seed oil to keep his dark skin looking burnished and regal. Julius Caesar dressed his Roman locks with grapeseed oil on a daily basis, to ward off imminent baldness. And the great Napoleon himself could not sleep unless his pillows were lightly perfumed with lavender oil. He even carried a supply of lavender oil with him on his disastrous march into Russia in 1812; while his troops shivered and froze out in the harsh Russian winter, Bonaparte slept peacefully -- kept warm under numerous quilts and pillows scented with lavandula.

Today essential oils are still part and parcel of a leader’s physical agenda. British Prime Minister Theresa May uses Tea Tree essential oil-based shampoo to keep her silver strands looking clean and vibrant. The German Chancellor, Angela Merkel, is quite attached to citrus oils like lemon and orange to keep her cuticles from looking dull and from cracking. And Aung San Suu Kyi, the First State Counselor of Myanmar, uses jasmine oil, rubbing it on her temples prior to her morning Buddhist meditations.

But what about President Donald Trump -- does he use any essential oils on a regular basis? The jury is still out on that. However . . .

His former hairdresser, Amy Lasch, told the New York Post in a recent article that when she worked on his hair during his many TV appearances she always used several drops of clary oil to keep it looking thick and to keep it in place. She said that the President is overfond of hairsprays and hair gels that mat his hair down, so she recommended he also use a tea tree-based shampoo (Melaleuca), to wash out all the harsh chemicals that sprays and gels incorporate to keep hair under control. Lasch said “Looking at his most recent Press Conferences, I’d say that President Trump is still using clary oil to preserve the bounce and the color in his hair -- but I haven’t worked for him directly in a while. I understand the White House has its own hair salon, but I doubt the President uses it much -- it looks to me like somebody in the family is still cutting his hair for him.”

Since his election, President Trump has remained mum on what, if any, essential oils he uses for hair care. But recent studies show that oils like clary and melaleuca can add a wonderful bounce to anyone’s hair, man or woman. Essential oils may also be helpful in preventing, or at least slowing down, the onset of male pattern baldness.

For further information, and for an absolutely free, no obligation, sample of three of the most commonly used oils, including lemon and lavender, contact Wellness Advocate Amy Snyder at http://bit.ly/2vHgrH6 Please put your name and address in her Comments box.  She has used these superb essential oils for years herself and will be delighted to share her experiences with you in a professional and friendly manner!

NOTICE TO READERS: The information contained in this blog is for educational purposes only. It is not intended to diagnose, prescribe, or treat any emotional or physical condition, illness, or injury. The author, publishers, and distributors of this blog shall have no liability or responsibility to any person or entity with respect to any and all alleged damage, loss, or injury caused or alleged to be caused directly or indirectly by the information contained in this work. This work contains suggested uses of oils based on acceptable dosage amounts recommended by the manufacturer. The author makes no claim to have verified or validated these suggestions. The readers must validate acceptable dosage amounts from the manufacturer before application. The information in this book is in no way intended as a substitute for medical advice. We recommend that all readers obtain medical advice from a licensed healthcare professional before using essential oils for any reason.

Another Paper Bites the Dust (The Village Voice Ceases Print Publication)

Another paper bites the dust

And goes the cyber way

Our forests gain protection

But our tactile rights? Oy vay!

When newsprint lay upon the land

As thick as cream cheese frosting

And ev’ry news stand had a choice

Of viewpoints quite exhausting --

Then twere joy to sit and read

My paper with a bagel --

But now with keyboard and a screen

I always must finagle.

The internet is good for many things

Like games and podcast

But it is sucky when it comes

To comics and good lambaste.

So I will read a book instead

And let the Fourth Estate

Go online without my aid

To thunder and to prate.

Sunday Dinner at the Circus

One of the main reasons I watch Blue Bloods is not because it stars Tom Selleck -- although he is a pretty slick piece of merchandise. No, I dote on those Sunday dinners after church services where the whole family sits down to a sumptuous repast that always includes a hefty roast, real mashed potatoes, lots of bread and butter, a great big green salad tossed and served in a pressed wood bowl, and something fatally chocolate for dessert. Never mind all the wine they guzzle during the meal -- that’s just Hollywood flummery. Any real family that tried to drink that much vino during dinner would wind up on skid row in a matter of months.

My own mother endured long sessions over her Kenmore every Sunday after morning Mass at Saint Lawrence Church in S.E. Minneapolis, whipping up fried chicken or succulent pork chops with a  huge casserole of potatoes au gratin in the oven and creamed peas percolating in her one good copper pot. There was always a homemade pie -- either lemon meringue or apple.

I immediately missed those Sunday feasts when I went to work for Ringling as a First of May on the Blue Unit some 45 years ago. The Ringling pie car featured nothing out of the ordinary to celebrate the Sabbath Day -- same old burgers and fries or wilted iceberg lettuce salad with canned olives and sclerotic tomato slices. If you wanted something decent to warm the cockles of your heart on a Sunday you had to eat out -- and many towns still had blue laws those long years ago that shuttered the best restaurants on Sunday because they sold liquor.

Tim Holst and I, the only two Mormons on the Blue Unit, were always invited to a member’s home after morning church services on Sunday. Back then Mormon families were larger than they are now -- there was always a spare daughter or two that mom and dad thought ready for a Temple wedding.  Back in the day Holst was considered a Good Catch by the discerning pater familias -- a returned missionary, hard-working, and with a clear tenor that could give the Mormon Tabernacle Choir a run for its money. I was viewed, on the other hand, as his slightly half-witted sidekick -- hadn’t served a mission yet and was too young and dopey-looking for anything but a few laughs; so I was usually fobbed off on the young children after dinner to keep them occupied with balloons.

A half century ago in most of the United States the typical centerpiece of a Mormon Sunday dinner was several  loaves of baked Spam with some kind of ketchup glaze drizzled over it. My mother never allowed Spam to cross the threshold of my childhood home, so I had no idea what it was. The first time I saw one of these concoctions I innocently asked Holst if it was a meatloaf. There was always a big ceramic bowl of instant mashed potatoes. Another big ceramic bowl of canned corn (sometimes gussied up with a jar of pimentos.) Bottled peaches as a relish to go with the Spam. And really really good homemade bread with all the butter and honey I could handle. And I could handle a lot. Dessert was inevitably Jello -- with a Dream Whip topping.

Or, if our luck was out, we got to eat a Food Storage meal with the family. Mormons have been counseled since the days of Brigham Young to keep an emergency supply of essential foodstuffs on hand for a Rainy Day.. Back when Holst and I roamed the countryside as Ringling gypsies it was a common practice for LDS bishops to cavalierly choose several families in the ward and challenge them to live off of their food storage for a week. And if the two of us were invited to a Food Storage meal we had to be satisfied with rehydrated soup ,freeze-dried vegetables,  and a leathery dried beef jerky that chewed like a Firestone tire -- and tasted like one, too.

Since most Sundays with Ringling were moveout nights, the matinee and evening shows were moved up a few hours, so Holst and I usually had to eat and run -- with Holst dutifully taking down the address and phone number of the daughter(s) while I made one last wiener dog for the clamoring kiddies. Then dad would drive us back to the arena, where Holst and I would scramble like mad to get into makeup and costume before Performance Director Charlie Baumann could balefully announce  “You’re late for come in -- I fine you five dollars each!”

It is a tribute to both the good cooking of LDS women back then and our own cast iron stomachs that I never knew either Holst or myself to suffer from indigestion after snarfing down one of those LDS Sunday meals.

Today I don’t think an LDS family would be likely to offer such a Sunday meal as I have described to a visiting circus guest -- but I haven’t had the chance to find out in a long time. I myself keep a couple of cans of low sodium Spam in the pantry and will often pop one open on Sunday to fry up a few slices with some eggs for breakfast. If only I knew how to bake bread like those LDS ladies of long ago . . .