ONIONS: BOTH A CURE FOR THE COMMON COLD & FLU PLUS SOME OTHER INTERESTING FACTS

ONIONS! I had never heard this!!! PLEASE READ TO THE END

In 1919 when the flu killed 40 million people there was this Doctor that visited the many farmers to see if he could help them combat the flu... Many of the farmers and their families had contracted it and many died.

The doctor came upon this one farmer and to his surprise, everyone was very healthy. When the doctor asked what the farmer was doing that was different the wife replied that she had placed an unpeeled onion in a dish in the rooms of the home, (probably only two rooms back then). The doctor couldn't believe it and asked if he could have one of the onions and place it under the microscope. She gave him one and when he did this, he did find the flu virus in the onion. It obviously absorbed the bacteria, therefore, keeping the family healthy.

Now, I heard this story from my hairdresser. She said that several years ago, many of her employees were coming down with the flu, and so were many of her customers. The next year she placed several bowls with onions around in her shop. To her surprise, none of her staff got sick. It must work. Try it and see what happens. We did it last year and we never got the flu.

Now there is a P. S. to this for I sent it to a friend in Oregon who regularly contributes material to me on health issues. She replied with this most interesting experience about onions:

Thanks for the reminder. I don't know about the farmer's story...but, I do know that I contacted pneumonia, and, needless to say, I was very ill... I came across an article that said to cut both ends off an onion put it into an empty jar, and place the jar next to the sick patient at night. It said the onion would be black in the morning from the germs...sure enough it happened just like that...the onion was a mess and I began to feel better.

Another thing I read in the article was that onions and garlic placed around the room saved many from the black plague years ago. They have powerful antibacterial, antiseptic properties.

This is the other note. Lots of times when we have stomach problems we don't know what to blame. Maybe it's the onions that are to blame. Onions absorb bacteria is the reason they are so good at preventing us from getting colds and flu and is the very reason we shouldn't eat an onion that has been sitting for a time after it has been cut open.

LEFT OVER ONIONS ARE POISONOUS

I had the wonderful privilege of touring Mullins Food Products, Makers of mayonnaise. Questions about food poisoning came up, and I wanted to share what I learned from a chemist.

Ed, who was our tour guide, is a food chemistry whiz. During the tour, someone asked if we really needed to worry about mayonnaise. People are always worried that mayonnaise will spoil. Ed's answer will surprise you. Ed said that all commercially-made mayo is completely safe.

"It doesn't even have to be refrigerated. No harm in refrigerating it, but it's not really necessary." He explained that the pH in mayonnaise is set at a point that bacteria could not survive in that environment. He then talked about the summer picnic, with the bowl of potato salad sitting on the table, and how everyone blames the mayonnaise when someone gets sick.

Ed says that, when food poisoning is reported, the first thing the officials look for is when the 'victim' last ate ONIONS and where those onions came from (in the potato salad?). Ed says it's not the mayonnaise (as long as it's not homemade mayo) that spoils in the outdoors. It's probably the ONIONS, and if not the onions, it's the POTATOES.

He explained onions are a huge magnet for bacteria, especially uncooked onions. You should never plan to keep a portion of a sliced onion.. He says it's not even safe if you put it in a zip-lock bag and put it in your refrigerator. It's already contaminated enough just by being cut open and out for a bit, that it can be a danger to you (and doubly watch out for those onions you put in your hotdogs at the baseball park!). Ed says if you take the leftover onion and cook it like crazy you'll probably be okay, but if you slice that leftover onion and put on your sandwich, you're asking for trouble. Both the onions and the moist potato in a potato salad, will attract and grow bacteria faster than any commercial mayonnaise will even begin to break down.

Also, dogs should never eat onions. Their stomachs cannot metabolize onions. Please remember it is dangerous to cut an onion and try to use it to cook the next day, it becomes highly poisonous for even a single night and creates toxic bacteria which may cause adverse stomach infections because of excess bile secretions and even food poisoning.

Please pass this on to all you love and care about.

NEW YEARS RESOLUTIONS

It’s time once again for the annual swearing of the New Year’s resolution - that time honored tradition where we solemnly make all kinds of wonderful pledges to both ourselves & our loved ones. But all the good intentions and big plans mean naught because deep down in our pudgy little cholesterol laden hearts we know that we’ll never follow through on any them. Those extra 10, 20, (hell admit it) 50 pounds aren’t going anywhere any time soon and even the thought of giving up smoking has you fumbling in your pocket for a light like a drowning man grabbing for a life preserver.

Big business is well aware of all this. January is the prime month of the year for gym memberships while sales of athletic wear and home fitness equipment are higher than at Christmas. Health food stores tout the latest cure all and TV informational push the latest diet/patch/pill that makes the fat melt away and somehow magically makes you look 15 years in the process. Who knew that losing weight would make your gray hair, wrinkles & eye baggage go away?

Get real people. If you DID lose all that weight you’d look like a Shar-Pei with all that excess skin drooping down - although you could save on underwear because that floppy skin apron where your gut used to be is going’a hang down & hide your punanny/pecker from view. Which won’t be an issue because you KNOW that you are not gonna give up Big Macs & Snickers and the only time you’ll lace up your Nike’s will be to go buy goodies at the store.

Loose skin, jingly butt cheeks, drooping jowls, chicken wing upper arms. Wait I’ve got all those already! Damn it all, I’m gonna have to do it, make a resolution and count on y’all to keep me honest.

RESOLUTIONS:

1. Get Healthy

2.....

'Heck, one is enough for me',

SWEET TEA

Do you take your tea sweet or not? Cold or hot? Sweet tea is a Southern staple, our Mamas put it in our bottles when we're wee babes and the addiction starts there. Go up north and the yankees swear that you're ruining a good thing. Seems that everyone everywhere has an opinion; but we Southerners will fight to the death over how to properly prepare and serve tea.

I just had to share this article, AMERICANS AT THE TABLE: REFLECTIONS ON FOOD AND CULTURE (it's kinda long but it tickled both my funny bone and my interest). I ran across this culinary tale in E Journal, USA:U.S. Society & Values, put out by the U.S. Dept. of State/Bureau of International Information Programs.

Damn, that's quite a mouthful!

You should go and read the whole paper, it's got tons of recipes and history about how different foods became staples in the USA.

INCLUDE ME OUT:

A REFLECTION ON “ICE TEA"

by FRED CHAPPELL

The author, though a native of the American South,disdains the region’s signature liquid refreshment, iced tea. He sees perversity behind the popularity of the highly sweetened drink, which he calls an “insipid banality,” but that doesn’t stop him from offering the reader guidance on how to prepare it.

"There are people who eat cold pasta salad. They enjoy despoiling their greenery with gummy, tasteless squiggles of tough, damp bread dough that are usually made palatable only when heavily disguised with hot tomato sauce and a stiff mask of Parmesan cheese. This salad does have the virtue of economy. Wednesday leftovers can be marketed to Thursday customers of perverse taste.

It is probably perversity also that accounts for the prevalence of ice tea in our American south. It was Edgar Allan Poe who first diagnosed this immitigable contrariness of human nature in his short story, The Imp of the Perverse, and he undoubtedly saw it as a normal trait of Dixie character. But please include me out. I am one southerner who detests that dirty water the color of oak-leaf tannin and its insipid banality. When I am offered ice tea by one of our charming southern hostesses, I know I’m in for a long afternoon of hearing about Cousin Mary Alice’s new babe and its genius antics in the playpen.

Hot tea makes sense. It can relax as well as stimulate and in fact may be sipped as a soporific. It can offer a bouquet pungent or delicate and causes us to understand why the Chinese designated certain strains of flowers as “tea roses.” It can be a topic of conversation, too, as southerners revive the traditional English debate as to whether the boiling water should be brought to the pot or the pot fetched to the water. Such palaver reassures us that all traces of civilization have not disappeared under the onslaughts of video games and e-mail.

But if you ice the stuff down it cannot matter in the least whether the water or the pot has journeyed. Any trace of the tea’s bouquet is slaughtered and only additives can give this tarnished liquid any aroma at all. There is, of course, plenty of discussion about these added condiments. Even the mildest of southern ladies may bristle and lapse into demotic speech when they consider that a glass of ice tea
has been improperly prepared.

Notice that we say, “ice tea.” Anyone who pronounces the successive dentals of “iced tea” is regarded as pretentious. And if you say “Coca-Cola” you will be seen as putting on airs, just as obviously as if you employed “you” as a collective pronoun. Down here we say “you-all,” “CoCola,” and “ice tea” and collect monetary fines from strangers who misspeak. Ignorance before the law is no excuse.

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In recent years some enterprising women have seen the futility of the pot/water controversy and have begun making “sun tea,” a beverage that is never acquainted with either stove or teapot. They simply fill a gallon jug with water, drop in a flock of tea bags, and set the collocation out on the back porch to brew in the broiling August sunshine. If this method does not make the kitchen more cheerful, it does at least lessen the hypocritical chatter about proper procedure. Ice cannot harm sun tea; it is created beyond the reach of harm or help.

Now as to the recipe for ice tea: Lemons are essential and should be of the big thick-skinned variety, cut into sixths. They are never – repeat: never – squeezed but only plumped into the pitcher, four or five slices. Extra slices are offered on a cut-glass plate six inches in diameter. Mint may be added, but it is always submerged in the pitcher and never put into a glass where it would glue to the interior side like a Harley-Davidson decal.

And sweetening is the soul of this potation. The sugar bowl passes from hand to hand at a pace so dizzying it is like watching the rotating label on an old 78-rpm record. Southerners demand sweetness. The truly thoughtful hostess shall have already sweetened the tea for her guests with a simple sugar syrup that excludes the possibility of unpleasant graininess from bowl sugar. Sugar syrup for ice tea is concocted by adding one pound of Dixie Crystal sugar to a tablespoon of water. In the south sweetened ice tea is taken for granted, like the idea that stock car racing is our national pastime and that the Southern Baptist church is a legitimate arm of the Republican Party.

If you order ice tea in a restaurant it will arrive pre-sweetened. If you want it unsweetened you must ask for it. Actually, you must demand it with pistol drawn and cocked. And you will have to repeat your demand several times, because tea unsweetened is as abstruse a proposition to most servers as a theorem of Boolean algebra. Even then you can’t be sure. My wife Susan once ordered unsweetened, but it arrived as sweet as honey. The waitress pleaded for understanding. “We couldn’t figure out how to get the sugar out,” she said.

Why southerners are so sugar-fixated may be a mystery, but it is an indisputable fact. We are a breed who makes marmalades of zucchini, tomatoes, onions, and even watermelon rinds. Our famous pecan pie (“puhKAWN pah”) is a stiff but sticky paste of boiled Karo corn syrup studded with nuts. Since this is not sweet enough, it will likely be served with a gob of bourbon whipped cream dusted with cocoa powder and decorated with vegetable-peeler curls of milk chocolate.

“Do you want ice tea with that?”

“Oh yes. Sweetened, please.”

Well, I’ll confess that, though born in North Carolina, I make a poor example of a southerner. I don’t even capitalize the name of the region. I’m a Democrat, a non-Baptist, and don’t care what kind of car I drive. To me, adding broiled marshmallows to yams is like putting raspberry jam on porterhouse. I once spotted a recipe in the magazine Southern Living for CoCola cake and had to fight down a surge of nausea. I flee as if pursued from fatback, spoon bread, barbecue, grits, and – ice tea.

Susan tells me I need sweetening.

Fred Chappell is a professor of English at the University of North Carolina at Greensboro, and is North Carolina’s Poet Laureate. He has written numerous books of poetry and fiction, including First and Last Words, Midquest, More Shapes than One, Brighten the Corner Where You Are, and I Am One of You Forever.

HONEY, I'M HOME

It’s been one of those weeks, and not in a good way. My allergies have been kicking my ass from all the pollen in the air (yellow dust all over the place, I had to run the wipers to clear my windshield before leaving the house). I’ve got bloodshot eyes and I’ve blew my poor nose so many times that I’ve suffered nose bleeds a couple of times, plus the constant tissue contact has made me look like Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer! Scarlet laced eyes, crimson nose, not a good look for an old woman; plus they don’t go well with the double chin and chipmunk cheeks.

Now that the rain has hit maybe my ruby colored snout will get better. I went grocery shopping in the sunshine and just as I walked out the exit the heavens opened and a solid sheet of rain poured down. I looked like a drowned rat by the time I got to the car and was dripping wet after getting everything in the trunk. The pollen was making golden ripples on top of the water running across the parking lot; I’m hoping that the air has been washed clean as well. I’m home now; the thunder is rolling, the rain is pounding on the roof and the TV is ranting about hail and possible tornadoes. Ah, life in the glorious South.

Tuesday I went to the funeral home for 2 different neighbors. They lived right across the road from each other and died on the same day (who would have thunk it). One had been sick for a long time and the other guy broke his ankle and died from a blood clot. I grew up with their kids and renewed several friendships at the funeral home, not the best place to run up on old friends but what can you do?

I need to go do some housework now, gotta go back to work tomorrow night and when I’m working all I do is work and sleep. I usually cook a lot on my off days and load the fridge so I can grab and go and not eat a lot of takeout. Hope y’all are all well and I’ll try to do better at the blog posting thingy.

FUNNY

REAL WOMEN

This is a post from last year that is near and dear to my heart considering that I have always had an "hourglass figure" and now that I'm over 50 I seem to have more "sand" than ever! Let's hear it for us "real women"!

Auguste Renoir once said "There is enough ugliness in the world -- why should we paint ugly pictures?" So, this young lady, the subject of Seated Bather (1883-1884) certainly wasn't what he considered ugly! She fits the lush, rounded style of Renoir's era.

It seems I was born too late, dang it.

Gustave Klimt is considered one of the foremost definers of the Art Nouveau movement, which emphasised use of sensuous curving lines and forms. There is nothing "supermodel-like" about his Danae (1907). Her thigh is much more familiar to most of us than the thin, tubelike thighs that are considered attractive now

This painting by Pablo Picasso (one of my favorite artists) always makes me smile, just for the sheer joy and fun of it! Bet you thought that Picasso only painted what looked like bits of people all stuck together the wrong way? That was only one of his artistic periods.

Though the perspective and proportions are deliberately skewed, and this is not an attempt at realism, these women are definitely of "heroic" proportions. Don't they look happy? Who says you have to have ribs sticking out to be joyous and attractive? Why wait until you lose weight before you start doing all the things you want to do?


Here are some statistics for you:
*Most fashion models are thinner than 98% of American women
*The average fashion model is 5'9" to 6' tall, weighs 110 - 118 lbs and is seventeen to twenty-six years old & wears a size 6 - 8 dress.
*The average American woman is 5'5" tall, weighs 142 lbs, and is 44 years old.
*Forty percent of women wear a size 14 or above...
*Sales of plus-size clothes in 1996 were more than $20 billion...
*Plus size sales rose to $47 billion in 2005.
*Lillian Russell, the leading sex symbol at the end of the 19th century, weighed over 200 pounds.
*Marilyn Monroe would be considered "overweight" by today's standards. She fluctuated between a size 14 and size 18 dress

YEA ME!

Wahoo! This morning for the very first time I actually lasted a full 20 minutes on the elliptical machine. Not too shabby considering it was 4:00 A.M and I haven't been quit smoking for that long; plus the first time that I set foot on the damn thing I couldn’t even go 3 minutes. Granted I was melting and dripping all over the floor this morning but damn it, I did it!!!!!! I would have done a happy dance all over the gym but my knees were wobbly and I didn’t want to embarrass myself by falling on my face in front of all my workout buddies.

Wonder how long I’d have to stay on the evil elliptical to work off all that gloriously fattening but oh so tasty, totally to-die-for 4 cheese baked polenta (that’s Italian grits for all y’all Southerners out there) that I cooked and ate yesterday? Leftovers are hidden in my lunch for today, yum!

MOVE YOUR ASS

As I’ve complained bragged talked about before, I’ve been on a self improvement kick (i.e. quit smoking, move my ample derriere and get some exercise, maybe even try to eat a little healthier). Sweet Thang is still recovering from his motorcycle mishap; after 3 months being bed-ridden and wheelchair-bound, you’d think he would be chomping at the bit to get back in shape. So the obvious idea would be that we do things together, providing each other with encouragement etc etc . Wrong.

Although Sweet Thang is hobbling around on a cane, he can’t hold out for very long. I’ve been trying to get him to go walking with me but he moans that it’s too hot. Don’t tell his Mom, but the only outing that he’s been interested in is going to the bar and shooting pool while drinking beer with his hard ankle buddies. As a matter of fact, it's the first place he drove when he managed to escape from Mom's watchful eye. So I suggested “mall walking” and he actually got insulted; informing me that’s what “old women do”. Hell, the oldest woman I know can run circles around him; if he doesn’t get his fat ass in gear he’ll never be able to go back to work and I’ll be damned if I’ll feel sorry for him OR support him.

I took him to Sears just to get him out of the house and he lasted about 30 minutes; heck I thought every man alive could spend all day in Sears! The same thing happened at Hartselle’s indoor flea market; 30 minutes and we had to go. I managed to get him to go to the movies and he did stay for the whole film (Live Free or Die Hard; excellent flick, lots of bang for your buck). However he shifted and moaned and groaned the whole time and when it came time to leave it took him 10 minutes just to get out of his seat. The man's gotta start moving or he's going to develop rust!

I know it’s gonna be a long, hard recovery but Sweet Thang has got to get out from in front of the TV and put forth some effort. It’s been 4 months; the bones have healed but his muscles have gone to shit. Yeah, I know it hurts but nothing’s going to make it better other than just grit your teeth and “Get ‘Er Done”. His Aunt has offered the use of her swimming pool for the aqua therapy that his Dr. recommended but I can’t get him to even try. Maybe if I get a cattle prod and keep zapping him he’ll get in gear………..

In other news, I’ve got a new ‘do, y’all. I’ve been foiled! As Ashley worked on giving me a metal head, I glanced in the mirror and scared myself! The image reflected back at me looked like something from SETI looking for radio signals. You know, evidence of life on other planets. ET, phone home!!

So now I have lovely tri-tone tresses, my ever increasing gray hairs are camouflaged, and the guys at work are actually giving me compliments. I must look OK, usually I have to shave my head before they notice so compliments are a big deal. Plus they keep asking me how much weight I’ve lost. My clothes fit differently, I can actually shimmy into some jeans that I haven’t worn in several years and zip them while standing up, but the dad gummed #%*^%^# scales haven’t budged.

I guess I’m rearranging my body even if I haven’t dropped any pounds. I did get my body fat content and measurements taken at Curves the other day; every thing was about what I imagined, not good but improving. But I was shocked at my bust measurement, I'm 48 inches around the boobs! Now I know why I weigh so much, I've got 50 pounds of titties weighing me down. I knew I wear several sizes bigger in tops than bottoms but dang y'all. Now I feel lop-sidded.

Sorry I’ve been MIA, I promise to do better. I just got high speed at home so it should be easier for me to post from there. Heck; new hair, new modem, tighter ass ………. Who knows what’ll happen next!

WORKOUT

THE HARDER I TRY.......

It came out of the dark and hit me like a ten pound hammer. That damn craving, the one I thought was gone for good. My mouth filled with slobber and I strangled the steering wheel in a white-knuckled death grip. I gulped air, practicing those deep breathing exercises that’s supposed to help and all the while hungered for a smoke with every atom of my being.

Thank whatever deity that was looking after me, at 3:30 AM on rural highway 33 as it wound down Courtland mountain with moonlight sifting through the woods and coyotes' eyes gleaming in the dark, there was nowhere to buy a pack and no one to bum off of; I was safe from temptation. After checking the mirror to make sure I wasn’t foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog I drove the rest of the way into work and hit the gym, hoping to sweat out this devilish hankering for a cancer stick.

I’ve been soooooooo good for so long. Why now, after weeks of being smoke free, do I crave the damn things? When will I be free from this weakness? I haven’t even attempted a diet, just tried to stay smoke-free and away from the lure of other smokers.

I come from the age when smoking was considered "grown up" and "romantic". You know, back in the stone ages before Uncle Sam let us all know that tobacco was a killer. Watch any old movie, the hero always lights his lady love's cig. Then you have the gratuitous dual "smoking in the bed after sex" scene. Hell, back then smoking was cool and sexy and almost everyone lit up. Now old folks like me are fighting the habit, and some of us are fighting a losing battle.

Almost my entire family smoked back then, most of them still do. The habit contributed greatly to my Mom's death; so I know it's bad for me, that it stinks and is a nasty habit. But damn it's hard to give up!

Work opened a really nice gym on the plant site and I’ve been going in early on days and staying over after midnights in the hope of gaining a little muscle and thinking perhaps my gasping for breath on the cardio portion would help me resist the siren call of tobacco. I usually do 10 minutes of stretches, 20 minutes of cardio, 20 minutes of weight training, 20 more minutes of cardio and then a final 10 minutes of stretches. I've even conquered the incline sit-up bench! Not too shabby for an over-the-hill old broad who sits on her arse 12 hours a day for a living.

The plan was to get off of tobacco, get in semi-shape and then work on the food portion of my “get healthier.” plan. When you pass the age of 50 you have to work a lot harder on getting in shape. Plus I’m a hedonist so I’ve been putting off the diet part; I didn’t think I could give up good food and smoking at the same time.

Oh well, I guess it's back to one day at a time. I've resisted Demon Tobacco, now if I can just kick my honey bun habit.......