My Coffeemaker Meets Ancient Man

My Coffeemaker Meets Ancient Man

An amazing thing happened the other day. I got up at the usual time, staggered down the hallway, paused long enough to turn on my computer, then continued another few feet to turn on the coffee maker. But first I had to make the coffee so I turned a tap and clean, safe drinking water came pouring out of a faucet. Then I opened a can and there was a lovely pile of dark brown coffee, grown thousands of miles away but sitting right there in my cupboard. A few minutes later and there was a steady flow of exquisite coffee was streaming into the pot.

 So far, nothing amazing or even out of the ordinary.

After reading the on-line news from various news outlets around the world, I needed to warm up my coffee so I popped the mug into the microwave and zapped it for a few seconds. Ahh, nice hot coffee. Not amazing but very satisfying.

Then, after a quick sandwich made from cold ingredients snatched from the fridge, I decided it was time for a shower. Turn another couple of taps and voila, hot water. Flip a switch, extra lights in the bathroom. Still nothing too amazing.

After getting dressed I was faced with a dilemma: do I watch live coverage of the space shuttle launch on my computer or live coverage of the soccer game between Toronto FC and the LA Galaxy? This was easily solved by sliding a tape into the trusty old VCR and taping the game while settling in to watch the launch of the most complex and expensive machine ever built. From the earth’s surface to an orbit in space in slightly more than eight minutes. Eight minutes to get completely off our planet!

But since this kind of event has happened several hundred times by now (counting the shuttle as well as various unmanned satellites), even that was not the amazing part.

No, the amazing thing was a small headline I had missed earlier in the day when reading the news. The Brazilian government had just announced that one of its planes had flown over a very remote part of the Amazon rainforest along the border with Peru, and had discovered some people. But not just any people; a small group of people who were living in a region that has never been explored.

I other words, people who have never made contact with the rest of the world!

The was a photo taken from the plane. A long house structure with a grass roof was visible between the trees. Beside it were three people. One of them, who seemed to be female, was either very dark-skinned or painted with a dark pigment, and was leaning away, as if getting ready to run. The other two were obviously males, painted head-to-toe with a bright red pigment, and both of them were leaning back, with one arm forward and the other near their face. It took a moment to figure out what they were doing – they were taking aim at the plane, with very large bows!

The article stated that the government of Brazil was certain that no one had ever ventured into that region of the Amazon. So these three people were (there’s just no other way to describe it) completely wild.

They wouldn’t have running water, internet connections, television, VCR, microwaves, light switches or even a coffee maker. If they were afraid of a small plane flying over, what the hell would they have thought about the space shuttle?

It is truly mind numbing to think that in 2008, there are people on our world who have no concept of electricity, or powered flight, or even soccer. No use for an electric appliance, no need for a fridge to keep things cold or a microwave to make things hot. No need to communicate with people on the far side of the planet.

Do they even know about the size of the planet? Or that it is, in fact, round and not flat?

On the other hand, maybe that’s not so bad; the mystery of the “outside world” would have sheltered them from the more appalling aspects of human society.  They have been spared the never-ending news stories about the US election, or the antics of Paris Hilton. They don’t have to worry about rising gas prices or the slowing economy. Taxes, jobs, bills, the Iraq War; none of that will have ever troubled their minds.

Maybe, in this perverse way, they are luckier than us. Lifestyle gurus keep telling us to simplify our lives, to slow down, to enjoy life. But could any of us live without electricity, Starbucks and American Idol?

So that was the amazing part of the day, discovering that while we are smugly transforming our world to “make it better”, while simultaneously heading out into space, there are others for whom all our efforts and successes mean nothing. And if they have been able to survive all this time in a place as wild as the Amazon, chances are their lives are every bit as rich and enjoyable as our own.

Hopefully, we will never know. Hopefully, we will have enough sense to leave them alone.

Whither the Water

Whither the Water

Nicholas Stern, the former chief economist of the World Bank and author of the Stern Review on the Economics of Climate Change, made a rather provocative statement the other day. He said, at the Goldman Sachs “Top Five Risks” conference, that:

“Water is not a renewable resource. People have been mining it without restraint because it has not been priced properly.”

I have a real beef with that statement. Actually, two beefs.

The first is about water not being a renewable resource. The earth is an open system when it comes to energy;  radiation in the form of sunlight enters our atmosphere, powers all processes on the earth and leaves us in the form of heat energy. But in terms of matter, the earth is essentially a closed system.

Sure, some material enters the earth in the form of dust and tiny grains of material, mainly from old debris trails left by passing comets. (That’s what causes shooting stars; tiny bits of dust burning up in the atmosphere). Other material leaves the earth, thanks to our space program. But the total mass of all material entering and leaving is microscopic compared to the total mass of the earth.

There is certainly no water entering or leaving the earth so the amount of water the earth has right now is the exact same amount it had billions of years ago. And any resource which is constantly used and re-used over such a long time period is, by any definition, a renewable resource. The hydrological cycle, which changes water from ice to water to water vapour, and moves it from one side of the planet to the other, ensures the renewability of our water.

My second beef is about the policy of pricing for water. Yes, we do have to pay to have clean, safe drinking water piped into our homes. And there should be a cost, because we demand that the water which comes from our taps is safe from bacteria, fungus, and any noticeable colour.

But to have the marketplace start to bid on water sales like it does with any other commodity cheapens water. It removes water from its pigeonhole of “sacred resource” and leaves its affordability in the hands of people whose only interest is making a buck from it.

Water is the one resource that should never be allowed to be controlled by corporations. But it has happened already, in some of the poorest cities in the world, where civic governments have abdicated their responsibility of providing their citizens with fresh water. In return for building water allocation systems (the treatment facilities and pipelines), these corporations are allowed to charge for “their” water, right at the tap. In the exact spot where some of the poorest and neediest people in the world have no choice but to pay whatever is demanded for an essential resource.

So what does all this prove? I think it proves that Nicholas Stern is heading us in a dangerous direction. It proves that having an economist influence how to partition our natural resources is a bad idea. Water can be bought and sold just like any other commodity, but it shouldn’t be. Because it is not like any other commodity. Water is important. Water is necessary.

Water is life.

No Thank You, We’re Metric

No Thank You, We’re Metric

I was driving home this evening after watching the fireworks when I saw an interesting sign.

See, this weekend is our town’s annual Pioneer Days, a celebration of our heritage as one of the true pioneering towns in the west. I mean, The West. There is a parade down the old main street, a midway with lots of rides guaranteed to make the greatest number of kids sick in the shortest period of time, a fiddling contest, a quilting demonstration, a golf tournament, yada yada yada. You get the idea.

And of course, on Saturday night, there are fireworks. The kids and I go every year but this time I met them as their mother drove them down to the field next to the airport. They are in their pre-teen and early teen years and the umbilical cord is starting to stretch away from Dad.

We enjoyed the fireworks and they went home with their Mom while I headed back to my comfortable chair to watch a taped game from the European soccer championships. On the way back I saw the sign. It was a sign at one of the number of car dealerships along the new main road (as opposed to parade route) and it was touting the newest cars for sale. But instead of advertising their price and financing deals, it was advertising the car’s mileage.

I’ve heard of numerous companies across North America doing this; advertising their cars based on their mileage, a necessary sales tactic when the price of oil is setting new records every other day. So the fact that this sales pitch is being used here is no big deal.

What is interesting is that the sign contained the (very large) letters,”MPG”. As everyone knows, mpg stands for Miles Per Gallon, a measure of how far the car will go on a gallon of gas. The higher the mpg, the less often a driver will have to buy gas and, consequently, the more money they will save in the long run.

But that’s still not the interesting part. No, the interesting part is that the sign read MPG when it should rightfully have used the term, “liters per hundred kilometers”. That’s because we’re metric.

Back in the 1980’s, our Prime Minister (who is our equivalent of the American President) decided that Canada should join the rest of the world and switch from the imperial measurement system (which was a holdover of our days as a British colony) to the more modern metric system. Yes indeed, to join the 20th century we were going to bury ourselves in a system that worships the number 10.


Truth be told, it is a pretty good system and a logical one to use, once you understand how it works. I won’t get into the nuts and bolts of the metric system but suffice to say, you would think that after 30 years of using a federally mandated measurement system, everyone would think in metric by now. But we don’t. At least not completely.

As a people, we Canadians have taken the buffet approach to the metric vs. imperial question. We will tell someone we were driving at 100 kilometers per hour for the entire 155 miles of the trip. Or that after our latest workout, we weigh 139 pounds and we kept hydrated by using a 450 milliliter water bottle. Or that it’s really hot outside at 32 degrees, exactly the same as it is today in Cairo, Egypt, where their temperature is 90.

There was a hue and cry across the land when the federal government legislated the change to the metric system. Editorials cried that we were being manhandled by a dictatorial government, that our rights to preserve our traditions were being trampled, blah blah blah. On and on it went. You’d have thought we were being asked to hand over our first born to work in the coal mines.

In the end, we never did make a compete conversion to the metric system because we did what we Canadians traditionally do; we compromised.

We use the Celsius temperature system because it makes sense in a country where the freezing point of water means the end of nice weather and the start of winter. we use metric for highway speeds because the speed limit is written on the signs and we don’t want to get a speeding ticket. But we use miles to explain distances because, well, because that’s what we did before and we still prefer it today.

And I would imagine that this state of affairs will last for many years to come. Or at least until my grandchild asks me what a pound is because, after all, doesn’t butter come in kilograms?

How to Ace a Creative Writing Course

How to Ace a Creative Writing Course

There will come a time in your life when the voices in your head can no longer be ignored. When their constant coaxing and cajoling has finally convinced you that perhaps they are right. Perhaps your dreams can come true and you could become a great writer, if only you could find the time.

After all it’s not as if you don’t have any talent. Remember that Christmas form letter you wrote two years ago, the one everybody thought was so touching? How they all said it sounded so nice and Christmassy, even if they didn’t understand a lot of the fancy words.

And what about all those clever sayings you put into birthday cards? How you manage to come up with such neat phrases, year after year, is anybody’s guess. It can only be due to natural writing ability.

So the voices must be right; it’s time you took the plunge. Time to heed your true calling in life. Time to become a famous writer.

Your first step on your journey into literary history is to take a writing course. Yes, this will eat up some of your precious time which would otherwise be spent writing something important. And sure, you don’t want to be unduly influenced by the ideas or writing styles of mediocre writer wanna-be’s. But a writing course is a good introductory step into the world of creative writing. And since I have been down that road myself, I thought you might benefit from some simple observations on how to take a writing course.

First off, you must find a suitable class. Try to find one where you will feel comfortable and at ease with the instructor and your fellow writers. And one which will provide you with the greatest amount of experience and inspiration without really asking for too much in return. After all, your valuable time would no doubt be better spent writing publishable material rather than weekly assignments.

Since a writing course will stand or fall on the calibre of the instructor, it is imperative to choose them carefully. Remember that they are not just a mere teacher; they are the motivation, the inspiration, the driving force behind the student’s efforts to put words on paper.

Of course, this is more important for novice writers. For someone with your abundant talent the instructor’s role is to simply provide regular affirmations about the high quality of your work.

Still, you should strive to get the best instructor possible. The really good ones hang out at universities, most often in the faculties of Extension, where they hope their efforts at teaching will result in the offer of a real academic job.

Big cities will offer an abundance of writing courses and thus, a large selection of good writing instructors. As a rule, smaller towns do not draw top flight writers and you must make do with whomever shows up to teach the course.

If possible avoid those classes taught by middle-aged men wearing tweed coats with leather elbow patches, older gentlemen who mumble endlessly about the famous writers they used to drink with, or wild-eyed young men with misspelled tattoos. Intense young women who specialize in punitive and erotic literature are also suspect.

The instructor who will best suit your needs is well-read, well-travelled and someone who has published widely and recently. But make certain they are not well known or well financed. If they have yet to make the big-time themselves, they are less likely to sneer at your own work.

Lastly, look for a course where it is hard to tell who is more eccentric, the instructor or the students. Not only will the class be more entertaining, but these people will provide you with all the characters you need for any number of short stories.

Once registered in the course it is time for some basic preparations. In the first class you will be asked to introduce yourself to your new colleagues and to say a few words about why you write and what you hope to accomplish. This will be the best time to intimidate your classmates and establish yourself in their minds as the serious writer in the class. There are a few ways to do that.

When you state your name, make sure to include all middle names and initials. Real writers are never content with the average two-part name. Then talk briefly about the writers who most influenced your life and why you admire them. Make sure to choose obscure authors with hard to pronounce, foreign names. In this way no one can dispute your choice of important writers. It will also give them the impression you are well read and thus, someone to be listened to.

Keep your comments brief and concise. This will convey the perception that your knowledge of literature is like an iceberg; most of it is hidden away but is still massive in scope. Brevity will also lessen your chances of mentioning a writer the instructor may have actually read. He too has to be impressed and a little subdued by your apparent erudition. He would not have expected any of his students to actually know something about literature. For the instructor, a student with actual knowledge can be a worrisome thing.

Starting in the second week, each class will fall into a fairly standard routine. Be aware of how people fit into this routine and you can use this to your advantage.

Upon arrival in the classroom, be sure to check the side tables for home-baked goodies. Every class has its share of retired women who use their classmates as surrogate children and are happy to provide all kinds of elaborate refreshments. Of course, this is also a form of self-protection. After all, who could possibly criticize the writing of someone who arrives each week with a really good pound cake.

You will notice that, at first, nobody will touch the food. Everyone is waiting until the instructor has worked his way across the room and grabbed the first bite. Do not be intimidated by this obvious display of a social pecking order. Just dive right in. Show them you don’t play by anyone else’s social rules. After all, your presence in the class is a right, not just a privilege like it is for the others.

Once the snacking has begun in earnest it’s time for the first order of business: the tour around the table. At this time each student is expected to talk about their writing efforts during the previous week. This is a tricky part of the class and one where good mental preparations are paramount.

You see, there is a paradox at work in all writing courses. Ninety-nine percent of the students like the idea of writing but cringe at the thought of actually producing a written piece. So this part of the class becomes less a discussion of work in progress than a parade of excuses for work not progressing.

Most of the class will whine about their kids or their spouses, the lack of time, the car that won’t work, the overbearing job, the boyfriend who has suddenly lost interest. On and on. The instructor, hearing the familiar refrain, will smile through it all, exhibiting a level of patience and tolerance worthy of a catholic martyr. This is where he really earns his pay.

The more creative students will come up with the big excuses which they hope will protect them from the inevitable guilt. Everything from `I got food poisoning’ to `My computer crashed and I can’t reconfigure the command file’ to `My wife had a baby last week’. These, and all the possible combinations therein, are trotted out and meekly laid at the feet of the instructor.

You might as well save any sympathy you have for these people because the instructor will certainly not waste any of his.

When the inquisitor has turned his glare in your direction you should abstain from using any of these cheap excuses. Instead, you must serve up a tasty platter of excuses so good that the instructor will swallow them whole. The trick here is to use excuses favoured by professional writers. I have summarized a list of these excuses for you here.

You begin with the statement that you had several splendid ideas for a piece, all of which needed to be considered at length. Once having chosen the best idea of the lot, the mental gymnastics could begin. You moulded the idea, massaged it, bounced it off several points of view, and then wrestled it into a format compatible with your style of writing.

At this point, you should pull out your note book, the one full of doodles and illegible scribbling, and start turning the pages. By providing a focal point for the class you will distract their attention away from what it is you are saying. Or rather, what it is you are trying not to say. As well, a notebook full of busy pages gives the appearance, however ambiguous, of much work and accomplishment.

Continue the review by referring to such things as plot development, character sketches and determining accurate historic time lines. At this point, give the instructor a quick glance. If he is nodding his head and smiling, end your talk quickly. There is no sense in working the fish once it is hooked and in the boat. Then sit back with a smug, self-satisfied look. One that dares anybody in the class to challenge what you have just said.

If, however, it appears that neither the instructor nor the other students are buying it, you need to play the trump card. Finish your review by sighing deeply, and then declare that most of your time was spent doing research. This will convince even the most cruel-hearted of critics that you did indeed have a tough week and should be left alone.

From here on the rest of the class should flow smoothly, with little chance of your being further harassed by either the students or the instructor. You will be able to relax and enjoy yourself, with nothing more to do than listen patiently to some miserable prose and throw out the occasional snippets of criticism.

There are, however, a few situations which will rouse you from your daydreams and require some effort to defray.

For example, despite your best efforts to discourage them, the odd question will eventually come your way. Answer it with a ponderous and dull monologue. Speak slowly and deliberately, as if you are putting a great deal of thought into each word. And don’t forget to dredge up your favourite obscure, foreign author who just happens to be an authority on the subject at hand. It will be some time before you are asked another question.

If the instructor persists in picking on you, simply turn the question around and relate it to a common subject on which most people consider themselves to be an expert. The debate will quickly heat up and you will be completely ignored as the battle of egos rages on around you.

At this point, I should pass on a few tips regarding the presentation of your work to the class. But if you have followed the simple principles outlined here, you will never arrive at that point. Your writing will never have to see the light of day. However, if your own ego triumphs over good common sense, and you really do want to present an example of your work, just remember: literary criticism is like tracer bullets, they work both ways. And it has the same painful effect.

The class usually ends with another tour of the table, this time to plan how much each person is going to write during the coming week. Your best strategy is to imply much but guarantee nothing. This will keep the instructor happy and your colleagues eagerly anticipating your work.

I hope these guidelines have proven to be of use and have put you on the road to literary stardom. I would be at that point myself but I just have not had the time to sit down and write for an entire month now. First the kids got sick and then my wife’s car blew an engine gasket. Soon though I will find the time and write something truly unique. Until then, best of luck to you. The next time we meet will no doubt be on the best seller’s list.

How to Buy a Christmas Present for Your Wife

How to Buy a Christmas Present for Your Wife

Each year, with Christmas on the horizon, millions of men will venture forth to buy gifts for their wives. And most of them will have no idea what they are doing.

Certainly, most guys mean well, and many of them are truly interested in finding the perfect gift for their wives. But they all suffer from the one factor which renders them incapable of intelligent Christmas shopping: they are men.

This may seem to be an overly simple generalization, and an insult to one of the great genders of the human race. But think about it for a moment; men are born with an incredible array of diverse talents, ranging from the possible discovery of life on other planets, to the possible destruction of all life on this planet. Yet, this same group will, year after year, prove themselves utterly incapable of the simple act of buying the right Christmas gift for their wives.

So, as a man who has made every possible shopping mistake at least twice, I offer this guide to finding your wife a truly perfect Christmas gift.

The first step on this road to true Holiday Happiness  is to free yourself from those wise old axioms which men have been tripping over for so many years. The three most insidious of these include the following.

The first is, “It’s the thought that counts”. This phrase is repeated untold millions of times on Christmas Day, usually in a meek and desperate voice. It is a mantra which blows across the land like an ill wind; women always expect it but still find it dry and annoying.

This phrase was actually invented by a secret group of advertising executives in New York, none of whose wives were happy with their gifts. They were hoping to save not only themselves but all of their fellow men. Their purpose was grand and their efforts noble but they underestimated the intelligence of the average house wife. 

The second saying is, “If you like it, so will she“. This can be a tragic error. Any man dumb enough to believe this one deserves whatever he gets. Just because you want something does not mean she will appreciate it. This includes, among other things, season tickets for the local sports team, fishing rods or any kind of power tools.

The last of these axioms is, “Be economical, and get a gift you can both enjoy“. Christmas is not a time for economy. It is a time for splurging carelessly and ignoring the guilt. For rushing through stores with wild abandon and a pocketful of cash. For tapping your credit cards on the machine until the chip is dead. Being overly thrifty will not only get you the cold shoulder from your wife, but also a letter from the credit card company asking if you would like your credit limit increased.

There is one exception to this last saying about getting a gift you can both enjoy. It generally involves a brand new luxury vehicle which comes with two sets of keys, neither of which you will ever get hold of.

The next step to true Holiday Happiness involves avoiding the most common pitfalls of gift shopping. The first one is hints from your wife. These will start the last week of September and continue until Christmas Eve. They will be subtle and numerous, drifting past your ears like a soft breath. You must ignore them. Men cannot possibly understand a woman’s hints about anything, let alone something as important as this. Women may see their hints as clear and concise ideas but to men they are nothing more than obscure jumbles of ancient hieroglyphics

The second pitfall is advice from your buddies. Men trade advice as easily as they do comments about the weather yet they treat each word as if it came directly from the mouth of Moses himself. If you don’t believe me, just think of the last time you invested in the stock market on the advice of a friend, when he told you that shares in that gold mining company would never go down.

Some other bits of advice you must remember. Avoid procrastination. What seemed like a good idea in September just does not work at five o’clock on Christmas Eve. Like ordering jewellery from Bloomingdales, or installing that new dishwasher you have yet to buy. And never ask your wife what she wants for Christmas. The very fact that you had to ask means you haven’t been paying attention all year long, otherwise you would already know the answer.

Now that you know what not to do, here is a simple but effective strategy for buying your wife the perfect Christmas gift.

Go directly to the mall after work and sit on a bench which provides a good view of the passing shoppers. Watch carefully for a woman who resembles your wife in age and clothing style. Approach her quietly and humbly, looking as much as you can like a little lost boy. Her mothering instincts will kick in and she will be more than happy to help you, especially after you explain the trouble you are having finding a simple yet elegant gift for your wife.

Then write down everything she says, no matter how ridiculous it sounds. Remember, you are a man so it is natural that you will not understand the logic behind her suggestions. Then go and buy everything on that list. There will not be many presents to buy but they will be the perfect ones.

Then go home, wrap the gifts and place them in a conspicuous spot under the tree. When your wife asks if you are not feeling well because after all it’s Christmas Eve and you are not at the mall, just sit back, smile and enjoy yourself. The worst part of Christmas is now over.

Just Another Hill of Beans

Just Another Hill of Beans

So another scientist has weighed into the debate over the health effects of coffee. Dr. Esther Lopez-Garcia of Autonoma University in Madrid, Spain, has found that “long-term, regular coffee consumption does not increase the risk of death and probably has several beneficial effects on health.”

(Is it not ironic that universities are places where professors drink lots of coffee in order to form coherent sentences during early morning classes while students drink even more of the stuff just to be able to discern whether the prof is being coherent or not?)

Now wasn’t there another researcher a couple of years back who said that more than two to three cups of coffee a day would lead to all kinds of health problems? It’s hard to keep track of all the contradictory health studies being released these days onto a jaded public without a detailed score card. Every couple of months there is another study which contradicts the ‘stupendous findings’ of the last study on that subject, which itself supplanted the one previous to that.

Well, part of that is OK. After all, changes in our knowledge base in the medical sciences happens all the time, with newer findings replacing older, and less correct conclusions. This evolution of the state of science is where the original use of the term “paradigm shift” came from.

But it just gets a bit tiresome to live through yet another of the revolving door science that is the “good for you vs. bad for you” information about the foods we eat.

Take, for instance, the duelling banjos of health reports, the benefits of red wine. One month, a researcher will announce that one glass of red wine with dinner each day helps decrease the incidence of heart disease. The next month, another researcher will claim that even a single glass is bad for you.

Or there is the media circus surrounding the individual who has just been named the oldest person in the world, an honour bestowed upon them by the death of the previous title holder. A reporter, usually someone near the bottom of the television talent totem pole, asks the same tired question that is almost as old as the interviewee. To wit, “What’s your secret to long life?”

One senior citizen will answer that their secret is total abstinence from tobacco, alcohol, and caffeine for their entire life. Once they pass on, another unimaginative reporter will ask the new oldest citizen their secret which, as it turns out, consists of a daily cigarette with their morning coffee and a good glass of scotch every night.

How bad has our society’s obsession with the health effects of food? Spend a day preparing a lovely four course meal and invite over a half-dozen registered dieticians. I guarantee that dinner that night will consist of the five of you sitting in the candle-lit gloom, eating unadorned, organically grown celery. And hating every minute of it.

If humans weren’t meant to have a palate for good food, we would have evolved a better set of molar teeth and four stomachs so that we could spend our days like cattle, eating grass during the morning and spending the rest of the day chewing our cud.

Yes, food is required to ensure our survival, but it has also become a social activity to be enjoyed. Are you feeling blue and depressed? Forget the drugs, or the pills, or the vodka; instead, hit the grocery store. Get a grocery cart, stop by the café (if the store has one) and prepare to spend some time wandering the aisles. Grab whatever strikes your fancy. Plan your next three meals as you go. Buy something new that you’ve never tasted before.

Grab any complimentary recipe card that you find sticking out of a display and use it to freelance your dinner. Grab a box of something with foreign words all over it, ask the store clerk what it is and the buy something you think might go good with it.

Just stay away from the obvious crap food, like chips, soda pop and anything that can be turned from frozen hockey puck to steaming dinner in a microwave in less than two minutes.

Go home, dig around for a sharp knife, crack open a cookbook and go nuts.

And most of all, banish the dieticians and researchers and health professionals from both your mind and your dinner table.

Food is one of the truly great joys in life. Make it your friend and you will always have a source of pleasure available to you.

And next time one of these breaking news stories about the benefits or dangers of another food stuff blares out of the TV at you, hit the mute button, check out the kitchen cupboards and see if perhaps it’s not time for another meandering trip through the grocery store.

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