Lilly McElroy...

Ever hear of Lilly McElroy? I looooove Lilly. Love. Love. LOVE. Her. Why? Because she rocks. Yeah. She does. She's tender and tough. She's cute, quirky. She kicks arse. She's authentic. She's a performance artist with humility. Check her out!

Authentic Power...

I gave myself a throbbing headache today because I allowed myself to be overcome by worry. Have you done this before? It could be worry about anything really. Worry about a test. Worry about memorizing lines for a play. Worry about the economy. Worry about a family member's health. Worry about your own health. Worry about what kind of job you'll have when you graduate. Worry about not being able to afford the lifestyle you want. Worry about being single forever. Worry about being trapped in an unhappy marriage. Worry about letting down your family. Worry about letting down yourself. Worry about not achieving your dreams. Worry. Worry. Worry. BAH.  

When do I feel the least worried? When I think of my Grandma's kitchen. My gramma (like many of yours I'm sure) was a survivor who ENDURED so many things: decades of balancing family and labor, endless nights caring for a spouse whose lungs were rattled with emphysema, countless days raising an extensive network of children and grandchildren, fearlessly surviving the Great Depression, battling life with arthritic hands and knees... 

She was more than just a grandmother. She was a teacher, a nurse, a caretaker. She was my friend. My grandmother had the weight of the world on her shoulders and yet... she was always pleasant. Always loving. Always wise. Not just always... but in all ways. This lady had it together! And she never failed to help me GET A GRIP.  

Now when I was in college and I started to feel overwhelmed or worried or scared I'd go visit with Grandma P. We'd have lunch which was promptly followed by hot tea and krumpets. She'd sit at her kitchen table wearing her plaid "house coat" snacking on a MiracleWhip, tomato and ham sandwich. Leaning back in her chair she'd take a sip of RC Cola, and peering at me over her pink acrylic eyeglasses she'd say "Look Red, worry is like a rocking chair. It keeps you busy...but it doesn't get you anywhere."  

Worry is like a rocking chair. Heh. Makes sense, eh? So what's your rocking chair? Is it despair, jealousy, fear, rage, anger, wrath... hey it happens to ALL of us. Something or someone sets us off and these feelings instantly have power over us; or worse yet... it doesn't happen in an instant... it brews. POWERFUL emotions are these, but AUTHENTIC power they are not. In the theatre we are trained to harness these states of mind and summon them at the appropriate time when sensory recall is in order. But what about in real life? How can we get a handle on an emotional tsunami and resist the urge to freak out? How do we bail out of a tidal wave when all we have is a teaspoon? How can we can we use our energy to unleash the authentic power we each have inside of us? 

Below are my 4 A's for reclaiming your authentic power. I like to think of them as a meditative device; only here I'm using the meditative sound of AWWW instead of OMMMMM.....  

AWARENESS: 

The first step towards authentic power is creating awareness. When a painful feeling washes over you. STOP. DROP. AND ROLL. Becoming aware of the feeling is key to owning it.  

AWESOMENESS: 

Ladies and gents now that you are aware of this painful feeling - please place your tray into the full upright position and kindly remind yourself that the plane is not crashing. FEAR is a powerful paper dragon. The thoughts and feelings whirling about your heart and mind are coming from a part of you that's FRIGHTENED by the false belief that "you are not good enough". It's a LIE. You are awesome. FEAR stands for Fake Experience Appearing Real. Let's resist comparing ourselves to anyone. There's only 1 me. There's only 1 you. The world doesn't need another so-and-so. The world needs YOU.  

AUDACITY: 

Webster's defines audacity as: bold or arrogant disregard of normal restraints .... Now realize that the decisions we make when we are jealous, angry, or fearful come from a place (from a part of you) that is FRIGHTENED. Ask yourself- "Really? Do I want my decisions to be made by a part of me that is frightened? Do I want to allow this terrified part of me to react to this situation? What audacity!? What's up with that?" I didn't think so.  

AUSPICIOUS: 

In the theatre we use an exercise called "It's as if..." This exercise helps the actor to imagine how an ordinary being would behave under extraordinary circumstances. Webster's defines auspicious as: attended by good. With that in mind, ask yourself "How would I handle this situation IF I were compassionate, graceful, and wise?" What would Mother Theresa do? What would Michelle Obama do? WWJD? In other words, what would the calm, loving, servant leader in me do?  

Remember that within every decision we make there is a leadership moment; and part of being a leader is accepting responsibility for those decisions.  

Decide to be kind. 

Decide to be graceful. 

Decide to be humble. 

Decide to be brilliant. 

Decide to get a grip. 

Decide to set the example... not become one.

Can I get a holla for some Challha...

My efforts to get to ze gym today have bested me and me thinks the likes of Street Fighter 4 will not equate to a deficit of 500 calories this afternoon. Hrmph. Lückily for me I have a movement class tonight which will indeed bürn several kilocalories.

In other news... this morning I had my first go at baking a new bread recipe. This is challha bread. It is an egg bread that is braided.

Challha is not the type of bread but acutally refers to the "challha" - a part of the bread that is broken off or torn off before the rest is baked and is toasted and burned in a separate oven to symbolize a temple burning. Or something along those lines... Check out that challha... not half bad, eh? Recipe below. Time to toast it up with some lashings of fresh cream buttah and apricot jammy! <3> Üdo

Üdo's Happy Challha Bread

2 pkgs. dry active yeast

1 cup of lukewarm water

Dissolve the heast into the water. Let stand 5 minutes.

2 tbs. honey

1/4 cup of soft büttah

4 large eggs, beaten

1 tbs. salt

6-8 cüps of unbleached white flour ( I used 6 cups)

Set aside 3 tablespoons of the beaten eggs to brüsh onto bread before baking later. Beat the honey,salt, eggs, and about 2 cups of the flour into the yeast mixture. Gradually mix in the remaining flour. Careful here. I had to toss out my first batch because I loaded too much flour in at once... Dough should be light and airy not crumbly! If it gets crumbly then someone made a boo-boo. Toss it out and start over. Just make sure you add the flour gradually and keep that light airy doughy texture while mixing (at first using a wooden spoon and then using hands as it gets thicker).

Turn the dough onto a floured surface and knead 15-20 minutes until smooth, uniform, and unsticky. Place the kneaded dough in a large buttered bowl covering with a damp towel and let it rise in a warm dark place until doubled. I put mine in the oven where the pilot light keeps it warm. Punch down the risen dough and return it to the floured surface. Knead 5 minutes and divide into thirds. Knead each third into a 2inch thick snake. Line the snakes up and braid. Let rise until double. Seal the ends with a teeny bit of water and pinch closed. Brush with egg and sprinkle with poppy or sesame seeds. Bake at 375 for 30-40 minutes.

Baking bread once a week is a great tradition....
Fiddler on the Roof- Tradition

Happy Creatüres on my TV Tree...

Word of the Day for Wednesday, February 18, 2009

consternation \kon-ster-NEY-shuhn\, noun: sudden dread or paralyzing terror

With the economy so poor, there's been talk of job loss in nearly every field. Much to my consternation, the division in which I work (within our department) has been put on high alert for possible reduction or complete elimination.

Now, what better way to combat those feelings of consternation than to laugh right in its face? What better way to poke fün at dread than to... well... let's see... what would tick off dread? Ahh, I know! Make it cüte! That's right- CÜTE. Give dread & doldrums ::the finger:: by putting a little bow in it's hair.

Yeah! Go ahead and tie a pink ribbon around it's toe. Put it on a swing and give it a püsh! Make a flower grow out of it's head! Make it sing and dance on a withering tree branch!

And that's exactly what I did. Introducing Blik Wall Graphics...wall art that you piece together. Some can be re-stuck... some can not (alas this one is not re-stickable so it's up for the long haül). This is my personal favorite and most recent addition to our happy home.... The Happy Creatüres graphic by Threadless Designs.

This cürious little creation is one in which to lose yourself. I can sit and marvel at this cranky and cute masterpiece for hours pretending that I'm a part of it (can you guess which creatüre I am?) marveling at my ability to make it my own which was no easy task to construct mind you, despite the simple instructions. Each piece of the graphic must be separately cut from the roll it comes on and coaxed off the sheeting and onto your wall in a pattern that you choose. That's the best part- it's up to you to tweak it to your specifications.

So here I conquered two crabs with one apple... 1). amüse myself while coping with consternation... and 2). turn TV into art.

Why turn TV into art? You know there's something about a television that really irks me. I mean really, what was I to do with this gaping black plate plopped in front of the pristine white canvas of our wall? We've gone without a telly for the last two years and now we finally have a real beauty! But when it is inanimate it sits there.... knowing...seeing... gawking.... like an ebony eyeball in the middle of the room. Aye.... like ze eye of Mordor. Nevermind the fact that the Playstation has turned me into "he who is known as Smeagol".... mmmmmyyyyy precccciouuusssssss.... but I digress...

So what to do to remedy the dark one?

In a previous post I talked about creating a "cozy" for your TV.... but after pondering upon the matter, I finally decided to work with the darkness rather than against it... This Blik wall graphic is a fairly quirky and endearing alternative to covering up ze television with a granny quilt, eh? Cozy up to this... emo.

Kind of reminds me of a nightmare before Christmas...

A Post-Valentine's Breakfast...

A few Valentine's gifts for my brilliant hübby carried over from last night into this morning's festivities.... hehee... Check out the cüteness! Cute v-day mügs brimmed with steaming tea, a crisp red bowl (with hearts on the bottom!) filled with his favorite cereal, a porcelain heart shaped dish of his favorite fruits, a heart shaped ice cübe in his favorite OJ (check out the totally hip depression-era jade vintage Coke glass it's in too!), a peachy crepe made from (almost) scratch (we had these on our honeymoon in St. Lücia at a french patisserie called Josephina's it was just divine!), and an egg-white omelet made with sauteed onions and peppers served on glittered heart shaped plates. Ahhh! Fun or what? Last Valentine's was spent at the Settler's Inn but with the economy so icky and with our trip to Thailand on the horizon we decided to make our own little bed and breakfast experience at home. It was an absolute delight! Last night we had a piggie süshi fest at Blü Wasabi where we feasted on coconüt shrimp appetizer, miso soüps, a Black Dragon Roll, a Kyombie Roll, and an Autümn Roll... then we had Mochi for dessert and two Lychee Bellini's (I also had a cosmojito while we waited). Madone. So, sooooo delicioüs. We are off to walk the lake! Who needs the gym when you can fill your lungs with fresh suburban air, get some vitamin D to brighten the skin, a long hike up a steep hill to develop our muscles, see the blues and greens and hear the birdies sing! XoXo <3> Üdo

If I had a million dollars, today I would büy...

Ohhh yümmy rüg! A true classic, the Williams-Sonoma genuine 4000-gram-weight flokati is exclusive to Williams-Sonoma Home. It is made of ivory New Zealand wool that is hand loomed into long, luxuriant pile then rinsed for 40 hours in the spring waters of the Pindos Mountains. The result is an exceedingly thick, fluffy, character-rich rug. Don't they have the most wonderful product managers? Who comes up with this stuff? This product description is marketing brilliance... and oh yeah- it's free! (the description- not the rug) har! 

Dinner Thyme!

Long John Üdo's Chicken Strips
Defrosted some chicken breasts and tired of the same ol' same thing. So I cut the breasts into strips and figüred out a cockamanie new way to make deliciousness!

1. In one bowl flour up your strips and sprinkle with Goya Adobo seasoning.
   
2. Dip the strips into skim milk.
   
3. Then dip the strips into crushed corn flakes.
   
4. Sautee the strips in a shallow pool of Wesson.
   
5. Cover.
   
6. Cook thru and flip with tongs until finished.
   
7. Near the end, add a swirl of white wine and turn the heat up a bit to cook off the alki and leave the flavor. Drain on paper towels. Serve warm with side of cous cous and spinach.
   

OMG. To die for. So, so, goody!

Mmmm yüm! Cherry Piepoli!

Tonight I made a homemade cherry pie! Crüst and filling all from scratchers. Yahooo! I made a small boo boo by brushing the crust with egg yolk instead of a beaten egg with milk and thüs my crust looks a bit browny toasty. I wanted to use up the egg yolks I have because we've been eating egg white omelets in the mornings and I don't know what to do with these yolks! :\ But other than that it came out just peachy. Check out the little cherry decal I made with the left over pie dough! Pretty nifty, eh? Yeah, I love it! =D

Cherry Piepoli

• 1 recipe pastry for fancy pants pie crüst
  
• 4 tablespoons quick-cooking tapioca
• 1/8 teaspoon salt (bring out that ümami!)
• 1 cup white sugar
• 4 cups pitted cherries (I used frozen cherries that I had on hand)
  
• 1/4 teaspoon almond extract
• 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1 1/2 tablespoons buttah

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Place bottom crust in pie dish.
2. In a large mixing bowl combine tapioca, salt, sugar, cherries and extracts. Let stand 15 minutes. Turn out into bottom crust and dot with butter. Cover with top crust, flute edges and create lattice work. If desired, create a decal from remaining pie crust.
   
3. Bake for 40 minutes in the preheated oven, until golden brown.
4. Serve warm with a side of creme brulee ice cream! Oy.
   

Ünd now for something completely different...

An introdüction to our fresh-water-dawter... el rubie!

Errr... she's really not that scary... promise!

Lentil Bake and roasted garlic

My Italian grampa was a big fan of this lentil dish - especially düring lent. Fridays were the day for fish and lentils... this yümmy family recipe is one of my hübby's new favorites too! This is a mild, light dish with protein, carb, legume, and very little fat. It can be as bland or as flavorful as you like. I also roasted some garlic to have on hand (we use it instead of büttah) on our toast. Roasted garlic is sweet and delicious and does not give off an offensive garlicy odor. I used a muffin tin and 12 heads of garlic. Here's how to make your own:

Üdo's Roasted Garlic
Cut the tips off 12 heads of garlic keeping the root in tact. Place each head of garlic into a muffin tin. Dazzle with olive oil and a sprinkle of sea salt. Cover with a tiny roof of foil. Bake at 400 degrees for 45 minutes. When the garlic looks and feels soft take it out of oven and let cool. When cool, squeeze the garlic out of it's paper shell into an airtight container and save for use as needed. Variation: Drizzle a small amount of honey on to a few of the garlic heads. Sounds gross, but believe me - if you are a garlic lover the taste is to die for! Store in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to two weeks.

Grampa Giancini's Lentil Bake
1 loaf of fresh french or italian bread torn into pieces
1 small bag of dried organic lentils rinsed in a strainer
3 large organic onions diced

5 stalks of celery diced
3 large cloves of garlic diced (not minced)
6 cups of home made organic free-range chicken broth
1 dazzle of cold pressed extra virgin olive oil
1 swirl of white wine
Black peppercorns and sweet sea salt grind to taste

Spray a 13 x 9 cooking dish (I use the french white porcelain dish with the glass lid) with non-stick spray. Tear up the loaf of bread into bit sized(ish) pieces. Pile it into the baking dish.

Meanwhile, dazzle some olive oil into a pot on the stove (if you use non-stick wear you can probably use less olive oil) sautee your onions and celery until soft. You want to sautee the onions first so that they can create a bed for the garlic to sweat on- otherwise you risk burining your garlic. Always sautee your onions before your gahlick. Once you see the onions and celery are soft and nearly translucent add the garlic and swirl it a bit with wooden spoon. Now you want to grind sea salt a few turns- this will cause the onions and garlic to "sweat" to release their natural flavours ... ahem... their UMAMI if you will. ;)

Next, add a swirl of white wine and turn the heat up a bit to burn off the alcohol but leave the flavor of the wine. For more flavor, you can add a packet of dried onion soup mix here if you want. Toss the lentils into the pot adding 6 cups of your broth; creating an onioney soup mix... let this cook for a while... until lentils are tender.

When most of the water is absorbed into the lentils and it looks fairly "thick" you move on to the next step. Spoon the lentil mixture on top of the bread. You will have extra lentil mixture so don't panic if you can't make it all fit into the dish. Keep spooning the mixture in to the top. When you reach the top of the dish take your ladel and make 6 depressions into the lentils (3 rows of 2). Crack an egg into each depression. Cover with lid. Bake at 350 degrees for 15 minutes or until you see the eggs are set.

When eggs are set take dish out of oven and let rest for 1o minutes removing lid. Grind sea salt and black peppercorns atop the dish before serving with a fresh spinach salad or sauteed spinach with olive oil and garlic. Mmmm Mmmm! Jüst like grampa's! PS: this dish ages well... it's even better the next day and tastes pretty good served cold too!

All you need is lüv!

Candy is dandy but cookies sure are cüte! Sügary goodness! Yes, I know it's still a week away, büt I've been overcome by hearts and all things pink and red! A John Lennon and Yoko Ono poster (which is on my refrigerator) inspired me to make cookies like mad today... here they are... all red and pink and ready to eat. Yüm, yüm lüvah! 

And for all of you Gregory Peck fans... one of my Hemmingway novels: The Snows of Killamnjaro..... "Please luvah!"  1:49

A great way to start the day!

What a great way to start your Saturday... DISNEY! YAHOOO!! hahaha.... fun and springy for a warmer day today!

The Gentleman Grafter....

If you live within proximity of NYC and/or have ever visited the farmer's market in Union Square- you know Joe.

Our old buddy Joe Ades passed away. :( Here's a great tribute to him.

PERFECT PITCH

STREET HAWKER JOE ADES IS NEW YORK'S

GREATEST PRODUCT MOVER - BUT DON'T CALL HIM A SALESMAN

By CHRIS ERIKSON

I'll show ya 'ow this works!

That's how it begins. And if you're one of the many New Yorkers who've run across Joe Ades at work, you know more or less what happens next. After years of selling the same item - a $5 stainless steel vegetable peeler - he sticks to a set script, though like a jazz singer performing a standard, he never does it quite the same way twice.

Now when you peel a potato, it doesn't matter if you're right-handed, left-handed or, like a politician, underhanded.

Crouched low on folding stool above a Lucite cutting board, he grabs a potato from a nearby tub and puts it through the paces, peeling it in a few rapid-fire moves, using the peeler's "eye" to carve out a handful of french fries, and then, switching the tool to his left hand and using it like a mandoline slicer, reducing the spud to a heap of paper-thin slices. Put those in some hot oil, and when they turn brown you'll have a lovely chip! By now a crowd has typically gathered to eye this bearded, dapper Englishman in a hand-tailored suit, silk socks and gold cufflinks. Ades grabs a plump carrot and juliennes it in a flurry of slicing, while crowing in his broad English accent about the glories of his instrument.

You couldn't slice a carrot like this with a knife. I wouldn't know where to find a knife sharp enough, but anyone can do it with my machine.

He picks up the pace now, extolling the Swiss craftsmanship ("They don't make cheap things in Switzerland") and the blade's eternal sharpness ("You'll never buy another one as long as you live!"). Now it's closing time - the moment of "coming to the bat," as Ades calls it. He pulls a thick wad of bills out of his pocket and riffles through it while announcing the price: "Five dollars each, and worth every penny."

At this point, more often than not something extraordinary happens. In this crowd of jaded New Yorkers, purses fly open and hands reach into pockets as though lured by magnets. Hands clutching bills reach out one after another, Ades plucking them while delivering a stream of quips. When the wave subsides, the roll returns to his pocket, the spent peels get swept into a tub, and within seconds the whole thing starts all over again. Anyone watching this scene unfold might conclude that they've just seen the greatest salesman in New York City in action.

Ades, though, doesn't care for the word salesman, which to his mind summons up images of a wage earner making client rounds with a sample book. "I'm a grafter," he says. Since he picked up the trade as a lad, grafting - pitching goods in the street, or at gatherings like fairs or marketplaces - is the only profession the 74-year-old Englishman has ever had. And for the last 15 years he's plied it on the streets of New York, where except for a lucrative stint selling children's books, the peeler has been his sole item. On any given day he might be reeling in "punters" in Union Square, or Chinatown, or Downtown Brooklyn, or Herald Square, bringing in $500 or more (quite possibly a lot more) a day. Anyone who's seen Ades (pronounced like Addis) haranguing a crowd and figured him for an eccentric who must sleep under a bridge somewhere would be thrown for a loop to see him after quitting time.

That's when the devoted father of three (whose children include a Brooklyn schoolteacher) returns to a spacious, tastefully appointed apartment on Park Avenue near 88th Street. An erudite gentleman with a love of jazz, classical music and Woody Allen movies, Ades was long in the habit of following days on the street with nights spent stepping out to haute haunts like Jean Georges and the Café Pierre, sipping champagne with his fourth wife, Estelle, an artist. Since she died of breast cancer last November, though, he's spent his nights in the rent-controlled apartment he inherited from her, where paintings and sculptures line the walls and a piano sits in the living room by a marble coffee table stacked with art books. Sipping coffee there on a recent morning, Ades spoke to @work about how he fell into life as a grafter, and why after all these years the call of the street is still strong. ********************************************************

My father died before I was born, and left Mum with six kids and me on the way. He was a textile importer and exporter, and he lost most of his money in the slump of '29. When he died it was such a change. Before that they'd lived in big houses and had servants, and all of a sudden it went away. I started working when I was about 12. I'd started smoking, and when you smoke, you need money for cigarettes. I had a paper route, I used to cut hedges. I was always conscious of the need to get my own money if I wanted it. Nobody was going to give it to me.

I did quite well in school, but I dropped out when I was 13. I had a mastoid, and I lost about six months schooling, and by the time I got back I was so far behind I lost interest. Mum said you've got to get a job at an import/export company like your father, so I got a job at a shipping firm, where my job was to post letters. On the way I used to walk past this big bomb site in downtown Manchester. It was a derelict site, and all the spiffs, as they called them in those days, had set up and impromptu market. But it wasn't the sort of flea market you see in this country. Everybody was a grafter. It was tremendous - a very colorful scene with an amazing array of characters.

They were all performing, and I used to stand and watch it for hours and hours and hours, and it just fascinated me. They'd sell fake medicine in those days, cure-alls, but the wonderful stories they'd tell with this crap! It was so convincing. They'd be doing what we called a ring pitch, just standing there with no props, no nothing, and they'd have 60 people in a circle all around them, and they're holding them.

Can you imagine the talent that takes? I got in with fellows who were much, much older than me - in their 50s and 60s - and they were so adept at what they did, and so eloquent. I learned it by watching. And I knew how to do it from day one. I could open my mouth and get a crowd. There was a chain of six coffeehouses in Manchester, and each one was a meeting place for different workers. There was one for the clappers, or antique dealers; there was one for the textile merchants; there was one for the racing people - the clerks and the tic-tac men - and there was one for the grafters. And that was my college.

We'd meet there before work in the morning, and that's where you'd hear the stories, who went there and who did this. There were gamblers and there were alcoholics, there were family men - they were all different. But they had the common trait of living on their wits.

I'll give you an example. Someone goes into the druggist and buys a big block of inexpensive soap, what we called carbolic soap, and cuts it into tiny cubes. (In pitchman's voice) "Excuse me! Sir, looks like your glasses could use some cleaning" (mimics cleaning the glasses). And he sells the bits of soap for a shilling, when the whole block costs a shilling. At the end of the day he's got three or four pounds. That's initiative. There were many who'd work just long enough to get enough money to go sit in the pub, but for me it was all about treating the game as a business.

Because it is a game. How much am I going to get today, and nobody's going to stop me? That's the game. I like the excitement of it, the challenge of it - the fact that if you do it right you get paid, and if you do it wrong you don't. When I told my Mum what I wanted to do she was horrified. It was a bit below the level of respectability, definitely. But I laughed at that, because I knew I could go into the best restaurant and have the best meal and wear good clothes. To go out broke in the morning and drink champagne in the evening, that's always been my thrill.

I got a stall in a market, and worked there with a board and trestle, or just straight on the floor. Comic books were the first thing I ever sold. I sold tea towels and pillowcases. I sold bedding for a long time, sheets and blankets. I traveled all over the country - I went to fairs, I went to markets, I went to agricultural shows. We moved to London and lived there on and off for a couple of years. In '69 somebody sent me a letter from Australia saying there was an opportunity to work. It arrived around Christmas, and in the winter it's cold and miserable on the streets in England, and you can't make any money. So I went.

Coming from Manchester, the sunshine of Australia was lovely. I was there about six months and I called Shirley, my wife, and said get rid of the house and get out here as quickly as possible. I worked in Sydney first, selling fancy goods.

Then I went up north to Newcastle and set up a business with a truck, selling everything. Sheets and blankets and toys and pots and pans and giftware and china and crockery - everything, everything. All off the back of a truck. I sold really, really cheap, and people used to come from miles away, with no advertising - it was all word of mouth. I bought a Rolls-Royce, and I used to park it next to the truck. It was lovely. You know why I left it? I was bored. It was like fishing in a trout farm. It was too easy.

Honestly, I could have had blocks of flats, if I had been that way inclined. It was never my forte to pile money up, or invest it, or become wealthy. I like the challenge of going out every day and getting enough money for the day. Though it hasn't always appealed to the women I've been married to. I first came to New York City in '83, on a trip with my first wife. I moved here permanently when my third marriage broke up, in '93, and started working the peeler.

At first I didn't realize its potential. I thought, it's a thing that must burn out, because everybody has one, you see. But it's not that at all. It's a consumer item. Experience has taught me that, because people throw it away by mistake with the peelings, or they give it away, or somebody steals it. They always need another one. Once they've used this, they need another one if they lose it. It has to be a very quick demonstration, a very compelling one in the street. At a fair or a carnival, people are quite happy to spend ten minutes, but if you've got people on their lunch hour, or rushing from one place to another, ten minutes is an eternity.

I've managed to boil it down to a two- or three-minute pitch. And that in itself is quite an art, to gather a crowd, and hold them, and convince them in such a short period of time. The pitch is never exactly the same - there's always a slight change.

Which is thinking on your feet. You change according to, the crowd is out there, or they're here, are they moving away, are they not moving away. You're fine tuning all the time, making little adjustments - timing, body language, intonation. And it will make a difference. This is the beauty of it, you get told right away if it's working, with dollar bills. I got arrested quite a lot early on. You take it in your stride.

It's a misdemeanor - you can't go to prison for it. They may lock you up for a couple of hours, but they have to let you out. I've always treated the police with respect, I've always showed up in court, always paid my fines. And I don't have much trouble with them anymore. It's like I've told them: They'll get tired of chasing me before I get tired of running. I usually work four or five days a week. It depends on the weather and how I feel.

I've worked seven and I've worked two, there's no rule. I'm working more now, since my wife passed. She died last November, and it's really the only thing I have, you know. And now I'm saving, because I've got three granddaughters, who go to St. Anne's school in Brooklyn - and I've taken on the challenge of sending them to college. My oldest is 17 and she's applying to Yale, and she may get in; she's very academically inclined. My wife and I were very close, a very happy couple. When she was alive I spent all the money I'd got taking her out and spoiling her. We'd go out to good restaurants every night, party and have a nice time. I don't do that any more, so I work, that's my relief. I haven't had a drink since she died. There's no value, I don't think, in getting drunk by yourself, and waking up on your own. And I've really got no desire, no interest in meeting anyone else.

Not at my age. I don't think there's room in my life for it, at this point. I've got my grandkids, and I've got my game, my business. And I love it. I just love it. I look forward to getting up every morning. It's not simply a way of getting a living. It never has been. It's the excitement, it's the challenge - the glorious uncertainty. Every day is fresh. The only time I'm really happy is when I'm set on that stool.

chris.erikson@nypost.com

Thought for the day...

An old Cherokee was teaching his grandchildren about life. He said to them, "A battle is raging inside me ... it is a terrible fight between two wolves. One wolf represents fear, anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority and ego. The other stands for joy, peace, love, hope, sharing, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, friendship, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith."

The old man fixed the children with a firm stare. "This same fight is going on inside you, and inside every other person, too." They thought about it for a minute and then one child asked his grandfather, "Which wolf will win?"

The old Cherokee replied: "The one you feed."

Misogony... Still around or just a memory?

First- I need this woman's wardrobe. Please goodness someone tell me where to find "Joan Holloway's Wardrobe" online!!!

Next- here's the actual blogpost:
Misogyny... is it still present in our daily business interactions? Or is this a pattern of behavior that has been mummified by television programs like MAD MEN? What is it about that show?

You know, I am appalled by this program and yet I can't stop watching it. Perhaps it's the haunting opening-credit theme music or maybe it's Joan Halloway's saran-wrapped wardrobe.

Maybe it's the suffocating smog of cigarettes and booze swirling about during work hours or the story line of the mousey, perfectly coifed wife compelled to employ her neighbor's living bird collection as target practice... a snarled, smoldering weed hanging out of her pristine mouth, loading a pistol and blasting those fowl to kingdom come.

Who knows. All I know is that I can't stop watching. The hobo code. The oysters and stairwell. The patronizing gynecologist. Can you imagine?!

Oh women of yesteryear- what bumpy roads you paved for us.
Simply fascinating.
Misogyny and all...

What's LOVE got to do with it?

Twelve roses. Twelve days away! Ooo. St. Valentine's Day is almost here. And speaking of love, romance... and well leadership... do you remember that TV show Married with Children? The one with Peg Bundy and Christina Applegate. I never really got into watching those reruns but I do remember the theme song went something like this:

Love and Leadership

Love and Leadership

Goes together like a treasure and a pirate ship.

Or something like that... heh. Alright so I changed the song up a bit to make it more centric to this blog post on love and leadership. Love. Life. Heartbreak. Love. Life. Happily Ever After. We hear it in the songs we sing. We pursue it for the sake of most everything... Ahhh love.

::swoons::

What's love got to do with it, you say? Well, love and leadership have so much in common- one might suggest they are a match made in heaven. Both have the ability to test our mettle and both, it can be argued, are something that we all strive for (whether we would like to admit it or not). Both can be painful, challenging, triumphant, life altering, and ultimately- life affirming.

In his books The Rythm of Life and The Seven Levels of Intimacy, author Matthew Kelly brilliantly illustrates the path of leadership in your personal life. He urgently informs us that the sole purpose of your life is to become the best version of yourself.

Not the next Mother Theresa.

Not the next Michael Jordan.

Not the next Rosa Parks. Those people all became the best version of themselves.

Your job, your calling, your mission, your purpose is to become the best version of yourself. His words are intricately woven into memorable stories demonstrating how to get from Point A (where you are at right now in your life) to Point B (the best version of yourself). He addresses the four aspects of the human person: The Physical, The Emotional, The Spiritual, The Intellectual.

Spiritually, if we take the time to mediate, to pray, to walk nature- then we are making time to spiritually become the best version of ourselves.

Emotionally, we take the time to share conversation with others. We allow our spirits to be lifted and inspired by poetry, music, and laughter.

Physically, we choose to eat good foods. Foods that nourish us. Foods that strengthen us. We move our bodies and expend negative energy. We keep ourselves healthy, fit, active.

Mentally, we read good books. We dialogue about topics that are important to us and our development.

We can easily see the connection here to leadership and becoming the best version of yourself... but what does any of this have to do with L-O-V-E? EVERYTHING. Kelly goes further and argues that if you are single or if you are married and you are not reaching your full potential within your present relationship (either with yourself or with someone else) than try meditating on this daily mantra: "Be the person you want to be with."

That's it. Be the person you want to be with. Think about who you love. Who are you drawn to? Who do you aspire to share your life with? What is it about that person that makes you attracted to them? For some people this "person" is the person with whom they 'd like to be married to. For others, (and those less romantically inclined while reading this post)this person can be represented by your "hero" - Warren Buffet, Ghandi, Jesus, Bono, Michael Jordon, Oprah, etc.

Be the person you want to be with.

If you want to be a professional athlete or a rock star or a billionaire- study those people.

Study their lives.

Study their HABITS.

To quote Matthew Kelly:

"Life is choices. Ninety-percent of our happiness and ninety-percent of our misery come from our own choices. Choices create habits, habits create character, and your character is your destiny. If you can learn to master the moment of decision, you will master life. The art of living hinges on that moment when we choose between the-best-version-of-ourselves and some second-rate-version-of-ourselves.

Our lives change when our habits change. The difference between the heroes, leaders, legends, champions, and saints, and the rest of the masses marching through history is not freak luck… and God doesn’t have any favorites. The difference is they just had better habits. Men and women of extraordinary achievement fill their days, weeks, and months with habits that help them become the-best-version-of-themselves!

What stops most people from becoming the-best-version-of-themselves? It isn’t lack of time, money, education, contacts, or opportunities. No. Bad choices are what stop most people from becoming their best self. Good choices create habits that help you become the-best-version-of-yourself. Bad choices create habits that cause you to become some second-rate-version-of-yourself. If we fill our lives with addictions, cravings, and self-destructive habits, it won’t be long before we lose the passion for life. What is holding you back from having great relationships and achieving your dreams? Is it fear? Is it addiction? Are you hanging around the wrong group of people? Do you allow your critics to determine the direction of your life? Have you lost sight of what matters most?"

Be the person you want to be with.

Happy St. Valentine's Day!!

<3>Üdo