Renewing My Vows
Well, Mother Nature dumped five inches of white, fluffy exercise on my driveway Friday night. Lori and I had it cleared in time for me to make my standing 9am Saturday appointment at the chiropractor. There are worse ways to start the weekend than getting one’s back straightened out.
A couple of follow-ups to recent essays:
First, a reader kindly sent me this article from the New York Times regarding the slow progress in venture-backed business ventures focused on producing lab-grown meat:
Second, I stumbled across this very interesting article regarding news media business models, and what might be the most sustainable way forward.
You might find both of these articles enlightening.
Some time ago, probably more than a year, I injured my left ring finger at the gym. Something popped, and I quickly removed my wedding band, for fear that my finger would swell and be constricted by the ring.
It has sat in a little cubby of my office desk. Every once in a while, I would try to slip it on, and it was just a bit too snug to trust that I could remove it if I needed to. So it continued to sit there.
I had some errands to run in Columbus on Saturday, and I finally had the forethought to call the jeweler who made our wedding bands and explain that I needed to get the ring re-sized. We set an 11am appointment. I arrived at the appointed time, and was glad to be greeted by the jeweler (Bill). Bill made our rings twenty-seven years ago, but I’ve seen him at least a couple of times since, thanks to a purchase of earrings that I made for one of our anniversaries a few years ago.
Of course I know virtually nothing about the craft of jewelry making, or metallurgy, or welding, soldering, materials science…I walked in thinking that Bill could heat up the ring, stretch it out a bit, then cool it down and hand it back to me. No such luck. It turns out my finger has grown more than a couple of sizes, so there is a more elaborate plan now in place to accommodate my plumper digit.
Bill’s son Andy works with him, and they both talked through different scenarios, some of which went straight over my head. But in the end I am certain that we landed on a smart, enduring solution that will get this ring back on my finger.
A lot of things have changed in the world of jewelers since 1997. Bill and Andy showed me a laser welder that they now use, and the tiny filaments of gold that they use in that process. No matter how the tools change, their craftsmanship remains unimpeachable. As they were mulling over their proposed solution, I looked through the various display cases at the many beautiful pieces, all classic, avoiding the ostentatious.
It was impossible to fully grasp just how good an artisan Bill was when we initially chose to buy our rings from him. But this weekend, standing in the same showroom where we made that choice many years ago, I felt extra good about working with someone who has stood the test of time so well as a craftsman and an entrepreneur.
It will feel good to have the ring back on my finger. I don't go out or travel a ton, so haven’t really worried that some people might notice its absence, and draw inferences as to the strength of my marriage. But certainly the thought has crossed my mind from time to time. It’s time to get it back on my hand, and remove all doubt. The only thing that has endured better than the ring is my marriage, and for that I am immensely grateful.
Sunday Supper
After proposing numerous recipes from the genre of “Football Food” last week, I promised to return to the traditional go-to of the Sunday Supper section: A large hunk of roasted meat. This one is a doozy: This Braised Brisket from the New York Times Cooking section (it is a gift link, don’t worry about a paywall) evokes memories of my childhood.
It uses the flat portion of the brisket, braising it for six wonderful hours in a sauce composed of fresh ginger, onion, garlic, ketchup, red wine, soy sauce, cider vinegar, honey, Coca Cola, ground cloves and black pepper. I made it Saturday, so that it could cool and I could then skim the fat off the surface of the braising liquid before serving it to guests tonight.
Entering the house after the evening dog walk, the smell from the kitchen was absolutely divine. The plan is to serve it over mashed potatoes, whipped as thoroughly as Secretariat in the home stretch at Churchill Downs with optimal portions of butter, salt and cream. Add a little green salad, and that’ll be a fine Sunday Supper.
Sunday Music
I learned last week that musical pioneer Mojo Nixon, welder of roots music with punk rock died on February 7th at the age of 66. There was no one like this chaotic, anarchic inventor of the “psychobilly” sound. Here is his performance of Elvis Is Everywhere on the Arsenio Hall Show back in 1987. And here he sings Don Henley Must Die on a show called Random Acts. Rest In Peace, Mojo.
Have a great week ahead! Offer support to others. Make good use of this day. And let me know how I can help.
Peace & Love,