Matt Taibbi has a wonderful column reflecting on his student days in Moscow. The Soviets were ready to give unsolicited advice to anyone, at any time, on any pretext.
I have attempted – totally in vain – to implement an advice policy in this household. If I want advice, I ask for it. If I’m not asking, I don’t want it.
I’m acknowledged as the primary cook in the household. Nevertheless, as I was standing in front of the stove cooking pancakes this morning Oksana offered “Your pancakes are burning.” I pointed out that I was watching them and reminded her of the above rule about advice. She was offended that I would rebuff her advice.
I cook pancakes a little hotter than she would. It is faster, and I like them to be a medium brown. She lets them take forever and get no more than tan. It is a matter of taste. I’m a live-and-let-live sort. I don’t say a word when she cooks her pale pancakes and eat them without comment. She, on the other hand, will without a word turn the fire down under my pan. I notice only when it appears that they are not cooking as they should.
It goes the other way. From physics, as I have often repeated, we know that (1) boiling water cooks food by conducting its heat into whatever is in it, and (2) at sea level, water boils at 100 degrees (212 Fahrenheit). Without a pressure cooker, more heat under it does not make a boiling pot hotter or cook anything faster. The water simply disappears through evaporation.
By this logic, I used to turn the heat down under vigorously boiling eggs, soups and whatever. Oksana and her mother complained loudly. Applying my logic from above concerning advice, I now ignore the situation. If the pot boils dry, I as the dishwasher have to deal with scrubbing it. Better that than argue the point.
I wish there were a halfway point with regard to advice. In rejecting it all I surely pass up some that might be useful. However, a blanket policy of ignoring it all is the only kind that has a chance of working. And then, only somewhat.
Two weeks ago I braked hard as Zoriana stopped suddenly in front of me. I don’t know how, but my bike went down with me and Marianna. She was shaken but unhurt. I got a deep but nevertheless not very painful cut on my right ankle, which is healing nicely but still oozing. The women in the house are dying to tell me how to treat it, but I am not budging. No exceptions!
Though my health has been a magnet for advice, I figure most things out on my own. It has been 18 months since I stopped drinking. I have no more acid reflux or gall bladder pain. That’s for the good. Instead, I have gastritis. A hard knot at the top of my stomach when I eat or drink more than a little at a time. I suspect that the temperature of the food or drink has an effect. I’m using my handheld voice recorder to keep a log of my eating and drinking and my body’s reaction. The good news is that unlike gall bladder and acid reflux issues, gastritis does not appear to lead to anything serious. Dealing with it is a matter of avoiding discomfort at this moment.
I belatedly learn that Naomi (1) had a boyfriend at the time of her death, and (2) said boyfriend - presumably also addled by drink - was such an embarrassment that the family decided against spoken tributes at the funeral just to keep him from opening his mouth. It was not just to spite me! Par for the course, the family told me nothing about the matter.
That’s the scant news from Lake WeBeGone. The girls are in kindergarten all day. Zoriana’s acrobatics class has ended. All we have is music on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Yesterday I sat in and watched with satisfaction as she and the teacher worked on rhythm, beat and such – half notes down to sixteenths, and rests – and sang do-re-mi while reading music. Wish I had had the same at her age. Eddie just departed on another long bike ride. Why not? Twenty five years ago, as a recent retiree, I would regularly take off on a day like this for a 100 mile round trip from Bethesda to Harper’s Ferry or Gettysburg.
Hello, Graham,
Sorry to butt in but you absolutely _do not_ want to increase the acidity of your stomach! You need to reduce it. Your stomach lining is likely eroded due to age and past indiscretions such as alcohol consumption and smoking (if you smoked). You may also have an H. pylori infection. Most older people do. It doesn't affect some, others it does, that's based on genetics (as so many health issues do) and lifestyle choices over the years.
A proton pump inhibitor such as Pantoprazole (Protonix) or Omeprazole (PriLOSEC) should help, but you also may need a course of antibiotics such as metronidazole and tetracycline. You really should see a doctor rather than rely on ... well, .... But, what do I know?
Sorry for the unsolicited advice. Feel free to tell me to try base-jumping without a parachute (^_^).
Oh, right. Regarding meal preparation, he who does the cooking makes the rules. Kitchen kibitzers should be chased away. Too many cooks spoil the broth (to coin a phrase!).
Ha! This post makes me want to give unsolicited advice.
Gastritis in older people is often caused by a lack of stomach acid. An easy fix is taking a small measure (5ml) of bitters before eating to stimulate the gastric juices.
Alternatively sipping a tea of chamomile, fennel and carraway will soothe an inflamed stomach lining.