Gotta love that Country
the US of A
so many things, to see
eat, taste, feel, experience

*Boom Chicka Pop*


Somewhere in California
in an anywhere place
where the shoppers shop
and the cash register’s ring
and the people talk
where I wander through the aisles
marveling, gaping in awe
and wonderment,


Been away, you see
been away from home so long
things change, without me knowing
the sights, the houses increase
change color, the people grow older
grow younger, while I, while I

Just talking as if, I never left this place
this idea, the state of mind
the Golden State, with Malls
everywhere, there was a tree once
but you can’t make money on one tree
can you?

Boom Chicka Pop “corn”
why not have a name such as that?
in this Tortilla State of Mind


Tortillas seen in California. July 2017.

Where the temperatures are hot
and ice is King, and I am someone
who used to know what it was all about
not having to wonder why a product,
would have such a funny name,

In this California State of Mind….



Denmark in snowy weather!

I’ll try to help you recognize otherwise common signs in typical snowy weather
Not for the faint at heart, not even
the most tried and true Canadian
from Québec will be able to say:
“Snow in Denmark – A piece of cake!” Famous last words if you ask me!


One track coming, and one going.


Looking back to where I came from.


Sign for combination bike path and pedestrian walkway. Mind them both, won’t you?


Here is a crosswalk sign, cleverly disguised to fool the unwary.


Location where a visiting Canadian, got lost and Danish sled dogs had to be called out.


Here is a snow cornice, mother in-law approved

Here is what goes down well, warming you through and through
after having braved the Danish Winter


“Æbleskiver” a sort of ball-like doughnut, eaten
with marmalade, and/or sugar

Frozen shown on right. 2 minutes in the Microwave Oven, and….Yumm!

Remember. Forewarned is forearmed.

If/when you decide to brave the wilds
of Denmark…


your sweet lips
only a small repast,
while the main course simmers

Feeling you
adding the necessary spices
the right amount of passion
while we devour the meal
set before us,

The hunger
existing always
when we dine together
your red wine tempts, distorts
my visions of reality
while my imagination runs
along the shallow of your back,

Come closer
feel the fiery hearth
the stoneware surface
while you arch your head
towards mine,

The wealth of fulfillment
satisfied by the richness
by the way you’ve served
the meal in all of its facets

a meal fit for a king
but worthy indeed
of his queen

so worthy indeed…..



I thought
-a list of
the necessary ingredients
-easy to follow
-ample help,

I could make a meal
without any worry

A girl
a hot room

It seemed to go wrong


One Half, Quartered

I am a cake type of fellow.

I never knew it, before I worked someplace with many co-workers, all running about, concerned with their projects and deadlines,

but just about everyone likes a bit of cake to sweeten the day, you know?


I like easy recipes. Those that match my money using the supplies at hand.

—two eggs, two cups of flour, two cups of sugar – original recipe—

A paper filled with instructions that don’t need constant refreshment of my touch screen

The realization that if this never-before-tried recipe works, then we can all share a moment, together

There is only one problem.

Increasing the original recipe by one half.


I might lead a metric lifestyle in Denmark, but I still am bound by my old ways

allowing me,

the ability to screw up an otherwise easy chocolate cake recipe


no way to mess things up here,

but they will most likely lead to my downfall,

in the end…..


Christmas Cookies, Maybe

Paws just stretched out
under the table
and yawned

“Christmas Cookie Time”
-she yelled, as if all cookie eaters
would fall out of the woodwork
alas alas
only her, and I, and…
“Yawn” said Paws again

“Remember” she said
“One batch for us, and one for Paws”

Paws just looked
as innocent as could be
then burped, big time

“Uh” I said quickly
“Which ones are ours?”

She pointed, but stopped
“Ours were with white icing,
and Paws’ with blue”

There only seemed to be blue

“What was in his?” I asked, but didn’t
really want to know

“Uh” she said again, then turned beet red
“Reindeer Toes, raw and ground up,
with Chicken Gizzard Special Sauce”

Paws just rolled over,
and fell asleep
while I wondered if…

“Nope” she said
“All done for this year, no more flour
sugar, or eggs”

Paws just barked, and wagged his tail

Christmas was indeed
his most favorite time of year……


Blog Pancakes

OK. Here I am on the Eve of the Eve of Christmas, which in Denmark is called Little Christmas Eve, of all things.

Some of you might like to imagine me slaving over the hot  stove, whipping up a new batch of Blog Pancakes? Others might like the R-version, where my back side is visible, showing off my less than pubic face!

Actually, my blog pancakes are the result of too many blogs falling out of the tired and worn-out blog cabinet, onto the floor, with the remainder being squashed under the weight of my emptied imagination.

Too many blogs rolling  around in my head has created this situation, and I am sorry that you, my faithful readers, have had to suffer under the weight of releasing too many for most of you to stomach.

I’ve been trying to clean up the mess, but it seems  to be a losing battle, as my imagination keeps wanting to create a new mess with each new batch of nonsense.

I’ve tried  to cut down, really I have, but some days seem to have more posts than others.

I’ll just add that to my imaginary list of resolutions for 2018, perhaps to be read as a blog in 2018?

Until then, pass me the Maple Syrup, won’t you?


Eat Asphalt and Dine!

I sure have a fond recall of my family, back when I was growing up in my younger years. Mom did what she could to clothe and feed us, with the main emphasis being her way with food.

My earliest recollection was of me and my brother, sitting on a pile of hot asphalt, when the road needed its yearly paving. I still remember how Mom used to watch those sweaty construction workers, on what was probably the hottest day of the year, pouring that black gold on our very street.

“Come on kids” Mom used to say, as we got our first taste of that freshly poured asphalt! Man that was really living, and to this day, I can’t help but have my stomach start its rumbling when I see a paving machine roll by on the highway.

Mom used to tell us though, “Don’t be Asphalt Chasers“, which was a darn shame seeing as how there was more than enough to go around, and I always had a clean pair of underwear on, in case something went wrong and some doctor needed to check  our drawers!

The best part of the week was Sunday. Mom got us hooked on “Road Kill Sunday” with asphalt in many flavors and colors. I still remember how funny it was she spelled Opossum, but that didn’t matter, as long as it got sealed in with its many flavorful juices with Sunday Asphalt being the main course for the whole family! I used to ask Mom, why we couldn’t get it on the other days of the week, but she just said, “Then it wouldn’t be special, would it”? Mom knew just what to say.

Once in a while, I’d start to feel a bit queasy, and had to miss out on school with my friends. Mom just looked worried and checked my temperature, usually proclaiming that I had concocted, “White Line Fever“, which came when I ate asphalt that hadn’t been cooked at the normal temperature, causing her to make a warm Turpentine Tea to ease my pain!

Dad used to get steamed up when Mom forgot the asphalt a cooking, when those soap operas were on TV. She left the asphalt in the oven too long, making it tooth-breaking crunchy, like we used to call it. She had her ways though and got him calmed down by promising him a cold beer, and a hot time on some steamy newly-paved road, which seemed to get him as sweaty as those road workers used to be.

I used to taste asphalt wherever I traveled across this great land. It’s funny how it changed in tastes and consistency depending on where the gravel came from or, the oil itself. Mom used to say that “Texas Crude” was the best taste on the planet, but there were always foreign influences, with a more sandy taste of places far away that entered into my cuisine.

I’ll never know just why eating Asphalt today makes me a bit sad, but it is probably knowing that Mom is doing her part, paving her stretch of Heaven with the good Lord. She is probably staring down on me right now, eating a crunchy piece of Texas Crude, humming a tune, of something she learned far and gone away. She won’t be with me this Sunday for the weekly Road Kill Sunday , but we always share a wishbone with her picture, hoping and praying for another Opossum to get unlucky on some other day then  next Sunday!

We know though, it wouldn’t be the same, celebrating that event more than once a week, but we can always dream, can’t we?………………….



2 Eggplant Minimum

not an easy nut to crack
nor to find

I resorted to
the barter system
with one of the local growers
in my area,

2 pears and an apple
I proposed to the woman behind
the counter,

She just looked amused
“You know,
there is a 2 Eggplant minimum?”

Eggplants vs pears
who made up this system anyway?

I searched throughout my truck
I was lucky today,
it seemed,

Kiwi lucky

“I have”, said while rolling up my sleeves
“a wanton Kiwi, 2 prickly pears, and a chili”

She eyed my fruits, as i did hers
“interesting, quite interesting” she said

She began to thumb through her vegetable
exchange book.

“Kiwis, pineapples, grapefruits, watermelons”,
she said aloud
I noted how her fruits seemed to increase in size
as we pondered what to barter
what we had to lose, had to gain

I started to imagine her watermelons
rolling around my truck, while she
she seemed to feel that my chili had potential, but
it seemed a bit on the smallish side,
for her taste,

“We’ve gotten off the subject” she said, as she bent down
to feel my wanton Kiwi, in a rather business-like way,

I said, “I thought we could make a lovely fruit salad together”,
but she wasn’t about to have her grapefruits squeezed on
our first date,

“I suggest”, she said at last, “we should throw caution
to the winds and see just how prickly my pears really were,
without worrying about how kinky they turned out to be…

Just think, a trip to the big city thinking only of scoring a few nuts, but ending up with a larger fruit basket than I had ever dreamed of

And never even meeting the 2 Eggplant Minimum!

That just might be my next true barter,
if our fruit salad doesn’t work out, leaving us just
rinds and seeds,

You just never know….


Don’t Worry

That is the name of a Danish Beer, sporting a label that represents the island of Bornholm, where it is made.

It tasted exactly like regular beer, with one exception: it only had 0.5% alcohol.

I was at a Christmas Party after work, with another work day ahead of me. I laughed with the others, and ate my meal:

A traditional Danish Christmas Menu.

Pickled red beets. Cooked Kale. Small potatoes cooked in brown sugar, and pork sausage.

Not a bad fare, and accentuated with a Danish Beer!

Although. The other party-goers were becoming more party-like, when they drank this instead:

Mine is the one on the right, while theirs was the one on the left with 5.6% alcohol.

That must mean that they were 11.2 times jollier, than I?


Ho. Ho. Ho……..

Life in Denmark, while being embarrassingly sober…..