I was a feral child, latchkey at age 6. My mom hired an old lady named Ruth to come sit with me so that her 7-year-old wouldn’t be home alone. I had her fired. She was messing with my schedule — Woody Woodpecker followed by back-to-back shows of the Monkees. I have always needed some alone time to recharge. We lived in an apartment complex. This was novel, we always lived in a house. Once I forgot my key at school, the neighbor kids let me use their phone to call my mom. The next day I invited them over to play. We were having such a good time that they stayed until my dad got home. It was one of the two times he spanked me. I was singing and dancing for them in my room with a cute costume on that I had fashioned out of other pieces, but they were Black. Neither of my parents could fully explain what I did to deserve a beating. The lesson I learned was to keep my friendships away from my parents.
The complex was split into families and singles buildings. We were warned to never go to the singles buildings. One time a lady in the complex started making and selling candy. None of these Boomers thought anything about sending their kid to buy candy from what was most definitely a witch’s house. I only went a few times because it was autumn. Trick or Treating in an apartment complex is like shooting fish in a barrel. 10/10 would recommend if you live in the 70s.
One day when we were making art in class (that’s a thing that used to happen in US public schools) I found a couple of pages of porn in the donated magazines. I stole it, of course, and looked at it on the bus home. I ended up leaving it in the grass afraid that my parents would find out. Later that same year I found a Playboy magazine in the small bathroom off my parent’s room. The babysitter told my mom. The ladies were pretty and they seemed to get a lot of attention. I didn’t get into trouble but mom was upset when later I told her I wanted to be in the magazine when I grew up. You have to remember that in 1977 — the body style that was popular and grooming styles were very different than they are today. It was more of a vibe and less of an anatomy lesson.
Here is a song that was a big hit at our house
Ten years ago I met this very shy Brazilian fellow named Rodolfo. We went to interesting restaurants in Chicago until his visa ran out. He taught me how to make this easy little recipe that’s great for cocktail parties. They happen to be gluten-free.
Brazilian Cheese Puffs
1 egg*
1/3 cup olive oil
2/3 cup milk
Scant 1 1/2 cups (170 grams) tapioca flour
1/2 cup (packed, about 66 grams) grated cheese, your preference, though we got the best results from Mexican farmer's cheese - queso fresco
1 teaspoon of salt (or more to taste)
put all ingredients in a blender, and blend until smooth
Mini muffin pans worked best - be sure to spray them with non-stick spray
450° for 10 minutes YMMV
Top with a touch of jam and flake salt
Serve warm
Here's a Vanity Fare article on Justice Alito
I went into the Wayback Machine to find some old menus that I have hard copies of but nothing to point someone to when I found some old photos I took. This is from The Family Wash, the rock-and-roll club/restaurant that I co-owned from 2002-2007. The drummer is Steve Gorman from The Black Crows. He’s a nice man. The American Flag painting is by Jennifer Quigley on loan from Pat Gallagher.
This is what I think about my cancer. “I have ghosts in my bones, I’m going to smoke pot about it.” lol