Grilling, Cooking For Men, Real Men.

It is no secret that I like to grill. Taking flame, heat, smoke, seasonings, raw food and deftly combining them into a masterpiece of sizzling, tempting delight is the ultimate test of modern manliness.

You know, I should take up hunting. That would be the apex of masculinity, Killing something, and preparing it for your family. Stalking the wild meal, climbing silently through the thick, tangled, matted underbrush looking for the opportunity to take down the perfectly marbled beef brisket. Man, that would be the pinnacle.

Poor, foolish, unsuspecting tribe of wild baby back ribs would scatter as I come crashing mightily out of the forest, armed with nothing but Pampered Chef Grilling Tongs, (dishwasher safe with a patented locking mechanism) and a dry rub made of paprika, chili powder, salt, pepper, garlic powder, and a touch of dried cayenne.

I would be the king of the jungle, as I stalk the wild rib eye. You know, we should be careful, there are a lot of snakes out in the bush. Big snakes looking to make a name for themselves by bagging a chef.

Don't forget the spiders, silent, deadly, the perfect killing machine. Eight legged angels of death, we have to keep an eye open for them. I read about a guy in Dayton who rolled his car down the side of the ditch in an effort to kill a spider.  Apparently, according to eye witness reports he was trying to set the car on fire, a popular way to defend yourself against spider attacks, when he lost control and rolled into the middle of the field. Police are still trying to find the spider.





Maybe I will just go to the store, Or better yet send my wife to the store, that place is like a class reunion for the hospital for the criminally insane. I will make sure the grill is ready for cooking.

The Secret History Of Labor Day, at least it was a secret.

With the approach of the three day weekend we, here at Life Explained, would like to wish you a happy Labor Day. It was not that long ago that we, here at Life Explained, invented Labor Day.

It had been a long, hot summer, and we had been killing ourselves to catch up. We had a pocketful of change, a powerful thirst, and a strong desire for grilled food. But, things were so busy, and we were so far behind.

Then it hit us, why not initiate a three day weekend. No matter how far behind you are, how busy things have gotten, no matter how overwhelmed, nobody expects anybody to work on a three day weekend. It's in the constitution somewhere. Right between bearing arms and equality. Look it up.

So, we started calling and emailing everybody we knew, "hey, what do you have planned for Labor Day?" People will never admit ignorance, and soon all of the people we had emailed and called were calling and emailing, texting and facebook messaging everybody they knew.

"Hey, what do you have planned for Labor Day?"

And nobody would say, "nothing, I've never heard of that."


Our government will never admit ignorance either. So they backdated a bunch of official documents, and memorandum giving credit to some long past official, who knows who.


Now, thanks to our culture of delusion everybody "remembers" ancient Labor Days with their families from years ago. But, really it only started in 1998, because we wanted beer and bratwurst, thank goodness we only use our power for good.   You can thank us later.

Things you don't plan for on vacation.

While staying in the Black Hills, renting a cabin, and finding your way to a slower, relaxed pace, it is vital to remember that grilling on a gas grill is nothing like using a charcoal grill.  Charcoal is friendly, controllable, warming pile of gray companions, little red smiles blinking through, gently caressing your cheeseburgers with tender warmth, motherly love.

Gas declares war on your dinner.  Lighting with an intimidating  whoosh of vaporized petroleum, it singes meat with deadly efficiency, and terrible purpose.  Whatever you do, don't turn your back on a gas grill, or run inside to grab one more beer.  It is a decision you will regret when you serve your cabin mates little blackened bricks, with a golden coat of perfectly melted cheese.

Saying the whole time, "I just turned my back for a second, and the grill went nuclear. I swear! Would you like some ketchup with your tiny, black rocks?  Boy, that cheese sure makes a nice contrast to the blackened, slightly grey exterior, doesn't it?  Almost too pretty to eat."

But, there was still some food value in the clumps of what was almost ash.  And if people are hungry enough, polite and don't know you very well you can come out with your grilling reputation intact, more or less.

One thing that eases the pain a little is a good breakfast with lots of hot, tasty coffee, bacon, eggs, toast, and real butter. But, don't tell your doctor.

Vacation can be murder to a diet, and an exercise routine. Riding in a car for endless hours, trying to drink water instead of delicious, carbonated soda, and not snack too much. Fast food for lunch, and restaurant, or diner breakfasts add up to a several small losses in the war on aging.  Returning to work, and the gym will be a chore.

But, when the view from your cabin looks like this it is worth it.  The Black Hills are a dark, wonderful, magical place, covered in pine, and ancient spirits. It is a paradise for the sense, the pine,  and the decay, the birds singing in trees that are dancing in a gentle breeze. The sights and smells of heaven.  This is not our first trip, and with any luck it won't be our last.

Monday, a day of... well you decide.

We survived another weekend, and made it safely through to Monday.  It wasn't easy, and there were several close calls, but we are all back, safely, at work, here at the Top Secret Life Explained headquarters. Now that we have put all of that ugly freedom, and indulgence behind us we can get back to work.

Once the lawn was mowed it was as though time had stopped. There was nothing to justify our existence. Wandering from one pleasant experience to the next was torture. A void raged across the face of our world, consuming all in it's path. Nothing but light, casual conversation, and relaxed attitudes.

A walk through the park, filled with the joyful sound of laughing, playing children, who can endure those things.  Everywhere you looked, smiling, happy youth, and energy rushing with glee from one activity to the next.  It was so distracting. No structure, no framework, no guidance.

It would not have been so bad but the weather was perfect, sunny, warm, and wonderful. It was a little sickening. Grilling some chicken last night, with a drink of tequila, and a Dos Equis to celebrate Cinco De Mayo*, sitting next to a gorgeous, charming woman was almost more than we should be asked to tolerate.

But, at last we are back to the grindstone, working, producing, taking care of things.  Under the florescent lights, sounds muffled by the oppressive expectations of working for a living. Answering the alarm clock, rising early, and going to work.  Ah, the joys of responsibility, and the pleasure of being held accountable...

Wait, what the hell is going on here!?!?!?  Hey, find out who typed that first part and send them to the infirmary.  Better yet, send them to the psychiatrist. Or, better still fire them, they are obviously a danger to themselves and everybody else.

We will now return you to our regularly scheduled programming.






*Yes we know we were technically celebrating Tres De Mayo, but a busy schedule, and the security requirements of working for a top secret research and development facility require the alteration of certain laws of time and space.**

**Not really.

Spring, the manly season.

Spring is in the air, the bicycle has been on its maiden voyage, the NCAA tournament is underway.  The flowers are starting to poke their heads out from the thawing ground.  It is a wonderful time of the year, warming, but not hot.  No snow to shovel, no lawn to mow.  Ah, the joys of spring.

Tonight there will be steaks on the grill. Cooking things over open flame bridges the gap to a more masculine past (I know that the flames will have died long before we cook the steaks, but there is fire, to start).  Plus, having steaks is probably the most masculine of meals.  It is a serving of untrammeled macho, slapped on a plate, right after it popped and sizzled over red hot embers on a dangerously hot grill with a two pronged fork, which has one purpose, to spear meat.

A serrated knife saws the meat into bite sized pieces, sitting in a natural symbiosis beside a steaming hot baked potato covered in melting butter, sour cream, maybe some shredded cheddar, and you have a meal right from man's ancient, primitive past.  Yes, the animal may have reduced to a manageable size by a third party facilitator, but it is still just a big piece of, more or less, unprocessed food cut right from the side of history, cooked over unregulated heat from smoking, popping wood products.  Just like early man would have wanted it.

It really makes a man want to howl at the moon, sleep under the stars, abandon all the girly pretense that modern life has forced on him.  He can, for a moment abandon the automobile, emails, text messages,smart phones, tablet computers, and all of the namby pamby, facebook updates, tweets, and online wimpy crap. He is one with the past.  He is history.  He has become Man.

Of course, the potatoes will be heated in the microwave, but it seems obvious that even cro-magnon man would have welcomed a way to warm food that was quick, easy and relatively inexpensive.  Early man was not without some mental resources after all.

Plus, butter, and sour cream, that is a lot of dairy fat, nobody should subject their arteries to that sort of abuse.  Maybe a light sprinkling of extra virgin olive oil, and a touch of sea salt, and a sprinkle of thyme, that would add flavor without breaking the diet wide open.  Who needs all of those calories?

Since dietary fiber is so important a side of kale, and a few pomegranate seeds, oh my, that would be heavenly.  A nice glass of Pinot Noir, or maybe a nice cup of Earl Gray, with a splash of honey, it will be like heaven.

Really, red meat is not the healthiest way to get protein, maybe a Chilean Sea Bass would be the way to go, grilled on a hardwood plank, served on fine china, with a side of...

Anyway, spring is here, and everybody should enjoy themselves, no matter what they prefer.  Now, I am off to watch a some basketball, and have a snack, any suggestions?

Labor Day, a time for action.

Sunday, and it is rainy and early in the day, and cool and comfortable, and not even halfway through the weekend!  Three day weekends are an application of delight, tonic for the soul, a wonderful, powerful thrilling joyride.  So keen it almost seems illegal, or at least immoral.  But, it isn't.  Approved by the federal government, and endorsed by decent, loving, humane employers everywhere.

Yesterday was a day of labor, too.  We went to the the Outlet Mall in Jeffersonville, a mythical place with unique physical properties, and a strange gravitational pull that grabs people from miles away and drags them across state lines to walk purposefully and determinedly across well traveled sidewalks and into busy stores.  Once inside they will toil, grabbing for bargains, bickering among themselves, turning on employees, comparing prices to those offered by the ultimate of discount stores, Walmart.  Often, this would spark intense debate concerning the location of the best deal, and thinly veiled accusations of stupidity, and mathematical incompetence.  Further bickering would ensue, and soon the scene would deteriorate, the family openly split along visible lines, invoking visions of the Hatfields and McCoys, or Capulets and Montagues.

My big purchase was a "Doohickey" from Eddie Bauer.  A bottle opener, screw driver, wrench, box cutter, ruler combination that clips onto a key ring.  So far only the bottle opener has been field tested, and found to be passable taking two or three attempts to pop the top on an icy cold Red Stripe, directly in contrast to the ease of the model we keep in the drawer with the cutlery. This is in keeping with my new routine heavy on aerobic, and heart healthy exercise.  I can almost feel the years being added to my life.  My doctor will be so proud.

Soon the rain will pass, and the day will assume the glory entitled to the middle day of a three day weekend.  An aroma of smoked ribs smothered in barbecue sauce is beginning to float through the neighborhood, the new bottle opener workout is calling, and I must answer.  Until next time, friends.

Grilling, An Evolutionary Imperative.

A charcoal grill is a man's tool.  Using fire and red hot, ash covered embers to cook raw meat, char sliced vegetables, and toast frozen garlic bread is a sacred rite.  Billowing smoke and the smell of seared food is a time machine, transporting the tong bearer back to ancient times, when man used his barbecue fork to hunt and kill his own steak, or burgers, or bratwurst.

Times were a lot tougher in those days, roving packs of spicy sausages would wait in ambush for an unsuspecting lower middle class, blue collar, or in some cases line supervisory personnel. For many years it was uncertain which species would survive and which would fade into insignificance.

For years the battle raged on, and on, hunter, hunted, sausages, grill owners, entire villages were laid bare, and several unique cultures disappeared so completely that their favorite desserts are unknown, even today.  It was a bitter, awful fight that seemed like it would go on forever.

Man would venture into the wilds, armed only with a two pronged fork, and a war hammer fashioned from a branch, a rock and some twine that grew wild on the now extinct cotton string tree in pursuit of dinner.  Too often he would not return.  When the family went to look for him they would find only his skirt (yes men wore skirts in those days, and they could be quite festive, depending on the occasion, but for hunting they preferred your earth tones, or a simple nature inspired pattern... well, it doesn't matter what they wore), his fork and a trampled box of wooden, strike anywhere kitchen matches.

For a long time it seemed like the two mortal enemies would battle until the end of time.  Rapid advances in refrigeration, seasonings, disposable lighters, and charcoal technologies gave humanity the upper hand.  Next time you are trying to decide what to have for dinner, reach back, call on the primal urges that are hidden deep under your civilized veneer, grab a beer and throw something on the grill.  Resist the urge to put on a skirt, though, we are not animals, after all.

Summer Time, Magic in the Making!

Yesterday was the summer solstice.  This carries very little importance these days, but it used to be momentous, spiritual, and celebrated.  Now it passes with little notice, and no real celebration.  Summer solstice marks the new season in all of it's warmth, light, growth, and the promise of life, potential.  The joy of yard work, and the smell of fresh cut grass, gardens and the aroma of flowers, the thrill of watching the vegetables, planted by hand,

bear crop.  It is the longest day of the year, and it brings a sure sign of summer, back to school sales.

That's right, folks, time to start getting ready for fall, pencils, pens, notebooks, and expensive caculators so complicated nobody can possibly understand or use them.  All on sale at such ridiculously low prices they will never see equal.  Until the next advertisement, that is.

Also, you might want to stock up on long sleeved shirts, pants, jackets and thermal underwear.  Don't forget to schedule an appointment to winterize your car.  Oh, and stocking hats and gloves, you need to make sure you have those.

While we are at it, don't forget to start buying some candy for Halloween, and now is the time to get a deal on Thanksgiving items (we recommend putting off buying the turkey until the Fourth of July Christmas Sale Extravaganza!).  

Summer, the season of outdoor life, grills, picnics, baseball, and preparation.  

This message was bought to you by the International Association of Stores.  Please buy a bunch,