Ray Halliday: His Socks and Underwear Are More Interesting Than Yours

A little old Asian guy was walking past my laundromat the other day, and when he looked in and saw my underwear and socks circling around in the dryer, the dryer right next to the window, he stopped. In fact, I would say that he stopped abruptly. I would say that my socks and underwear going around in the dryer stopped him in his tracks. I watched him as he looked through the window, fascinated. Not all crazy and wacked out watching, but thoughtful, interested, a zen-like study of my socks and underpants all going around in the dryer.
I tried to figure out what his fascination was all about, but couldn't get a handle on it. He didn't seem mesmerized or anything, didn't seem drunk or homeless, didn't seem to be looking at my drawers with longing to steal them, or take them home. He was just thoughtfully looking at them. He, by the way, seemed to take no notice of me, behind the folding table, whatsoever. I was the only one in there.
And, he was only interested in my stuff. There were plenty of other dryers going around in there. Plenty of much more interesting colors and textures tumbling around. He could have looked at any of these. But he did not.
A few minutes later he actually left the window outside, and came into the laundromat, sat down, pointed his eyes, his face, his chest, and the whole of his attention toward my dryer, my stuff, slowly changing from what we call wet, to what we call dry.
Finally, it saddened me to have to take my stuff out, but time was up, no more tumbling.
As I left, he looked up, knowingly at me, and I nodded at him, letting him know that, yes, there would be other dryers that would come along in his life, dryers as interesting as mine. He nodded back to me, his eyes, ever so hopeful.

Now, this, as awesome as it may seem, in no way tops the time about ten years ago, when I was loading a dryer in that very same laundromat, and felt someone behind me, close, looking over my shoulder, into my dryer. When I looked back at the guy, quizzically, he simply looked into my dryer, smiled and said, "Nice load."

I Drew You Some Ducks!

No Tuna, But How About a Piece of Mango in Action!

My friend Sherrie Flick has given me the take-pictures-of-your-beautiful-food bug!

I find myself making food for the colors at times, and I forget about the flavors sometimes. This was delicious, however, but there's no tuna in it.

It's this: Black rice and white beans! Spinach and cherry peppers and some tomatoes and wakame seaweed! And some mangoes on top!

It's nice! And I got to eat it, too.

I had to tip the plate in order to take the picture. My mango pieces kept falling off. In this one, you can see one go!

Ray Halliday: Victim of a Mispour!

As most of you know, since April, uh, 22nd, I have not had any stuff like eggs, or bread or dairy or sugar or pasta or white rice or alcohol or caffeine. So, I was supposed to go for three weeks but I decided to let it go for three months because my buddy, Jim Kirk, quit drinking for three months and lost all sorts of weight. So I had to, you know, keep going.

The only caffeine I was having was some green tea every morning. After the three weeks was up, I switched, eventually back to my usual double espresso and two cups of coffee before my morning even began! But now they're DECAF espressos and cups of coffee. DECAF!

You see where this is going?

Today, through nobody's fault, I believe I was the victim of a mispour at Java Supreme, the coffeeshop that has treated me right for 18 years. That's right, I think someone slipped some caffeine in my cup.

Ooh, believe me, I could tell almost right away. My leg was going. And it was going and going. But that is not so unusual for me. I sometimes have a leg going. Then my hands started vibrating, and then my head buzzed. I see where the term comes from.


Luckily, there were people to talk me down. I ended up using this terrific story in my class today, teaching prefixes and suffixes and root words. You know, mispour has a prefix. And it's an unusual word, so it worked out fine. I danced around the class and I drummed on the desks. I jogged in place the whole three hours!

And I feel okay now, people.

But, weird, from such a lifetime coffee guy like me, I do not want to feel like that again anytime soon.

I'm serious.

Thanks for listening.

What is Going to Happen to Ray Halliday?

Anyone know anything about bulgur wheat? Because I ate some last night.

What is going to happen to me?

I notice the Wikipedia page starts out, "Bulgur for human consumption..."


Let me know if you know anything!


I have one more can of tuna left, so let's see if we can get our tearful goodbyes out of the way this week!

The Smell of Ray Halliday

Dear Tom’s of Maine,

I am a forty-six year old male. I am a schoolteacher, and when I was out of work for awhile, my father called me personable, and said I should be able to get back to work soon, and I did.

So you might figure there is no reason for me to be alone and living a bachelor’s existence with a cat.

Tom’s of Maine, I am doing what I can. I recently started eating radically right and exercising. I quit drinking and I am trying to keep a positive attitude. I am getting more work done and I am budgeting my time wisely, more wisely than I ever have. I keep my apartment nice, and, in general, my sink clear of dirty dishes.

In this spirit, I turned to you, Tom’s of Maine, for my toothpaste and deodorant needs. I want to be more “natural” and your products say that right on the cover. Plus your deodorant is aluminum free, and who wouldn’t want that? I bought a stick of your unscented Natural Original Care Aluminum-Free Deodorant Stick, and couldn’t hardly wait to get home and rub it on. I also bought your Natural Whole Care Anticavity & Tartar Control Plus Whitening Fluoride Toothpaste.
I brushed my teeth, rubbed my armpits and waited for my new, natural life to begin. I sat at the kitchen table and read my deodorant label. I noticed you use hops extract to inhibit the growth of odor-causing bacteria. I looked forward to my hop-killing-bacteria life.

Now, weeks later, my teeth couldn’t be happier. But, Tom’s of Maine, I believe we have reached a chemical impasse here, because I’m pretty sure that your hops formula is growing bacteria on me, maybe at a rate as fast as bacteria has ever grown.

Anyway, Tom’s of Maine, I am trying to change my life for the better. And while, in general, I do not mind smelling bad, there are certain obligations I have where I should, out of respect for other people, smell, at least neutral. This has not been the case.

Please accept the return of one unscented Natural Original Care Aluminum-Free Deodorant Stick. If you have any secret formulas that use something else to inhibit the growth of odor-causing bacteria, I would be happy to try it. I trust you Tom’s of Maine, things just didn’t work out this time.

Sincerely,

Ray Halliday

A Few Things About Jeff Dembowski

A few weeks, or months ago, this blog reached out and touched a long lost stranger, Jeff Dembowski. I knew him, I don't know, maybe as early as kindergarten, and we were friends until he moved away to, uh, Philadelphia sometime in junior high. He could do art stuff really good.
He shows up in one of my very first stories. Here's the line: "Jeff Dembowski draws good, but he threw up in the hallway and had to go home before art. He likes the art teacher because they are both Polish."
To be honest, I can't remember if he threw up in the hallway or not, but somebody did.
Now, you won't believe this, and neither will he. I haven't seen or heard from him since he moved, and that was a long time ago. But I think of him kind of often. I think of everybody kind of often. I've got a lot of time to think.
But, he sent me this teeny message in the comments section, "Hart's Hill?" which was the name of the elementary school we went to.
I am telling you, I thought of Jeff as I was writing that very post. And here's why. As I've been writing this blog, I've tried to think of sophisticated ways to talk about food, and haven't been having much luck. And I remembered that one day, at lunch, Jeff asked me what kind of sandwich I had, and I said peanut butter. And he said peanut butter and what? And I said, nothing, just peanut butter.
And he went, what? just plain old, dry peanut butter!
I thought that dry was a rather sophisticated term for someone so young to be using.
And then I get that comment in the bloggy comment section!
Small, weird world. Even smaller.
This week, I have some of my "art" in an art show. Wait. Some of my art. I only have two things, and they are shoebox dioramas. They can be seen at the Sonny Smith, 100 records thing at Gallery 16, 3rd and Bryant, San Francisco.
I guess I am sort of excited, but I did not go to the opening. And it happens to be because of Jeff Dembowski.
Maybe in the fourth, or fifth, or sixth grade, there was this art contest. I'm pretty sure it had something to do with Halloween. And I entered it, because I had a great idea. And I made my thing, and oh my god I was proud. I was so excited! But when we went, and I saw all the other stuff that was there, I realized how ridiculous, and awful my thing was. You think I'm just having some psychological self-esteem thing, but believe me, if you could see it, as I do, often, in my mind, you would agree.
Jeff Dembowski, if I remember, won that art contest. He made, I think, a castle, and it had pine cones and sparkles. It was beautiful.
I've had this theme occur many times in my life. You're doing your thing, and you think it's great. Your small group of friends think it's great, and they think you're great for doing it, whatever your thing is.
And then, you get out in the real world, around everybody else, and you realize that your stuff is just not on the same level, and you go home.

Today, at home, I had me a nice salad with spinach, fennel, sunflower seeds, some flax seed, and to make it not dry, Jeff Dembowski, lemon juice and olive oil.

Oh yeah, and a can of tuna. Can #11: best by aug 20 2009 VAL2E 1ZSWG 09:56. One can left.

I will let you know, as always, dear readers, how things go.