Thursday, July 23, 2015

Sign of the Times - Midnight Tamale

A sign two doors down, sending me a message

Petula Clark was my first.  (Stop dancing off into the gutter, you with the leer on your face.) She sang my first favorite rock song, "Downtown" which I listened to every hour on the hour on the old WMCA-AM radio station in NYC, home of the Good Guys and the Woolyburger (a 1965 version of a Wookiee. Yes, let the Wookiee win.)  Petula also sang "It's a Sign of the Times", the source for my ear worm which came out of my current pissed-off-at-the-President mood, and half a dozen other favorites which I still listen to.  Without a doubt, I am a child of the sixties.  In my sixties, ha.

Petula Clark, Harry Belafonte, and "The Touch" felt around the world, 1968

It's a sign of the times
That your love for me is getting so much stronger

It's a sign of the times
And I know that I won't have to wait much longer

You've changed a lot somehow

From the one I used to know
For when you hold me now
I feel like you never want to let me go

Corner of Rose and Patrick, across from the courthouse

I caught the above photo during one of my strolls, and it pleased me.  I'm not sure whose office building this is, but it did my heart good to see our flag being displayed right out there, upfront where it belongs. 

The American flag should be a sign of respect, but under this pathetic administration, it is not being properly used as a sign of the time.  The President screwed up (AGAIN) and probably insulted at least as many veterans as did Donald Trump when he dragged his feet as to lowering the flag to half-mast in honor of the shooting victims in Chattanooga. Now I've been told by some that it is "contrary to military protocol" to lower the flag - like this president ever cared about military protocol, or the rule of law for that matter. The President has the authority to lower the flag whenever he damn well pleases, and for some reason it did not please him to honor dead servicemen. After being pressured, however, he gave the order, just in time to prevent White House Press Secretary Josh Earnest from expiring from terminal shame and embarrassment.

Now one of the sixties references I am so fond of - are you familiar with the movie "Midnight Cowboy?"  If you're not, perhaps you are too young to be reading this blog.  "Midnight Cowboy" was downright scandalous for its time and place, because when released, it was the first X-rated mainstream movie.  It starred Dustin Hoffman, for crying out loud, and this was only a few years after "The Graduate."  If you are not familiar with "The Graduate", I give up.  Here's to you, Mrs. Robinson.  "Midnight Cowboy" also starred Jon Voight, before he ruined "Mission Impossible" for me forever.  Rest in peace, Jim Phelps.  And also before he donated his genes to a certain Angelina Jolie, who really should treat her father a little better.  If nothing else, then to thank him for his awesome genes. Ungrateful brat.

"Midnight Cowboy" is also glorious proof that we all get older - some, like Dustin Hoffman's co-stars  the late Anne Bancroft and Meryl Streep, are ageless.  Others, like formerly gorgeous Robert Redford and "Cowboy" Jon Voight, not so much, but having said that, I give them credit for putting their aging faces out there without going all Kenny Rogers on them.

I fell into this whole "Midnight Cowboy" train of thought in the middle of last night, when I went downstairs for a snack, and after sharing some chicken with Anakin and Romeo, I started to prepare tamales. Midnight Tamales. From now on, I am going to start all my tamales at midnight.  These were particularly easy and turned out to be ridiculously tasty, and it helped to prepare the filling and set the corn husks to soak the night before.  One thing I did not have to do was prepare the masa, because I used a tube of pre-cooked polenta.  I know, ridiculous, right?

This turned out to be a pantry-buster, because I hadn't been planning to making tamales this week, much less when I walking down the stairs.  I admit that I don't normally stock dried corn husks, but after this I may treat them as a necessity.  The rest of the recipe shall be revealed in the fullness of time - which means tomorrow - because I've run out of energy and my day is done.

Now there's a sign I would love to see.

I have moved one step closer to retirement, as I gather all my forms and such to ship off to the Division of Retirement in Tallahassee.  I am at peace with my decision. I wish I was better at following through in a timely linear fashion, but fibromyalgia continues to scramble my brain.  Filling out forms and following procedures are mostly beyond my abilities. Logic is a foreign concept.

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