How I Cut Through the Gordion Knot of German Bureaucracy and Got Vaccinated

I ought to be first in line. Really. I'm in my sixties and have metastatic breast cancer. Granted, I feel fine and live a normal life, but I'm not in the first bloom of youth. So I checked the local list and I was supposedly in Group Two--Group One being doctors, teachers, therapists. My boss wrote me a letter. No dice. My oncologist wrote me a letter and filled out a form. No dice. But I did, as advised, phone the vaccination center and tell them all about my letter.

    "Oh, we are sorry but . . . blah, blah, blah . . . you can try again in a few weeks."

Which I did do. And they said, 

    "Oh, we are sorry but . . .  blibber, blibber, blibber . . .  you can try again in a few weeks." Now, I happen to live right next to the testing center, so after getting my free test today (and feeling as though my nose had been electrocuted) I thought I'd just stroll right on over to the vaccine center (in a different building from the testing center, just to complicate things) and see if they threw me out.

I entered and was asked to show my ID card and the printout of my appointment--proof that I had one. Instead, I whipped out my doctor's letter and kept my face sterner than it's ever been. My face, ladies and gentlemen, looked like it was cut out of oak and I've been massaging it ever since. 

The guy at the desk looked deeply puzzled. Now, when teutonic administators get deeply puzzled, I have noticed, they do one of two things: they throw you out or they find and fill out a form you've never seen before (and neither have they, probably). He filled. I watched, waiting to be thrown out, but he waved me through to the next room, where I was stopped at a table and urged to fill out several more pages of forms. I did so. And take a number. I did. 

When they called a group of numbers I thought was 200-250, I followed those people, though, as it turns out, they'd called up to 240 and I was 241. We were seated and my number came up. Into the little booth I went, where a man who looked and sounded like Dostoevsky's Underground Man inquired whether I had my vaccination pass. This is it, I thought. Damn, so close, but now they'll throw me out. But no! He pulled out three--or was it four?--more forms and I had to fill out one while he diddled with the others. One of those forms, I realized, was my next appointment. They were offering BioNtech that day, he said. Did I have any concerns? No, I answered, my one concern having been that he would throw me out. One jab later, the doctor said I had to sit around for fifteen minutes. I did, but things were chaotic enough that I could have walked out immediately and no one would have noticed. It's been five hours since the shot. No side effects. Yet.

Boomer Black Beans

 

Here are some things you can put into your black beans--a big bell pepper or two, some sun-dried tomatoes, red onions, and shallots. I wash the pepper, chop the sun-dried tomatoes, and let them all sit around while I get the beans ready. Which is something you do the night before. Yes, soak them--about a coffee-mug filled with beans if you're feeding two teenagers and yourself. You can freeze leftovers or keep them in the fridge for around four days.

What kind of beans? An important point. I used to scoop up whatever was available at the local Asian market, but my experience with those beans is that they never get soft enough, no matter how long I soak them. One of my kids seems to like them chewy, but I don't. I like Camil brand Brazilian beans--generally speaking, any South American brand will tend to be less chewy.

The night before: put the beans in cold water--completely covered with at least an inch of water. Put a sheet of aluminum foil over the bowl overnight. No need to refrigerate unless the weather is very warm.

The next day: about three hours before you want to eat, drain and rinse the beans. Put them in a Dutch oven with a fresh bay leaf or two, and cover with cold water. Bring to a boil, then lower the temperature and allow the beans to simmer, covered. Non-vegans may wish to add chopped chorizo, or any kind of sausage you like.

Sauté the shallots, chopped red onions and pressed garlic in olive oil, gradually adding the pepper and red onions. Feel free to substitute carrots or other vegetables. Set aside. When the beans are getting soft, add the vegetables and a little veggie broth. Eat over rice--lately, we've been enjoying this over sticky rice, which you can make in a rice cooker. Just rinse in hot water first.

Why Megyn Kelly is Wrong about Piers Morgan

Yesterday, Megyn Kelly appeared on BBC defending Piers Morgan's right to "free speech."

 

The way she had it, he was ostracized for stating an unpopular opinion. In a ladylike fashion, she said she didn't have to agree with Morgan, but she defended his "right" to speak freely.

But Piers Morgan wasn't "speaking" freely. He was having a tantrum. He was ranting. He was one minute from flopping on the floor, kicking and screaming, toddler style. 

If Morgan had quietly stated that he didn't believe a word Meghan Markle said about feeling suicidal, people would have listened and wondered. If he'd had the slimmest of facts to back up that opinion, he'd have been on a roll. But stomping off into the wings yelling "not doing this!" and yelling (not stating calmly, but exclaiming angrily) "I wouldn't believe her if she were reading the weather report!"--that's just bad behavior. Volcanic, Morgan was spouting hatred, not articulating any particular thought.

Think how a woman behaving that way would be treated. Not sympathetically. Try to imagine Christiane Amanpour or Oprah Winfrey or Katie Couric tantrumming the way Morgan did. They wouldn't get a second set of interviews the very next day. They'd be silenced.

The way Meghan Markle was silenced. Megyn Kelly, too--she made a mistake thinking blackface was okay in a Hallowe'en costume because, as I recall, "Who doesn't wanna be Diana Ross?" Wham! Was she OUT.

But she's defending Morgan--not for inadvertent crassness, not for unconscious racism, but for a childish, rage-filled rant, for which he should be ashamed. At the very least he should offer reasons for his beliefs instead of casting Meghan Markle as Darth Vader.

What's Wrong with Piers Morgan?

I've only seen the snippets, not the whole interview, but was rooting for the young couple the whole time. Piers Morgan's response genuinely shocked me--I used to think of him as reasonable and honest. Back in 2013 I posted about his interview with lunatics who think the "right to bear arms" means they can roll out tanks and shoot anything that moves. I watched him defend Susan Boyle. Why doesn't he get the difference between random hostilities like the "Waity Katie" remark and the ominous racism obvious in questions about how dark Meghan's unborn child's skin would be? Why was he ranting about Prince Philip's health as though the interview were designed to insult the ailing grandpa when he's down? What bee was buzzing inside Morgan's tight little bonnet? Why is he defending Meghan's oafish, self-centered father, whose manipulative attempts to force his daughter to sympathize are repugnant? Meghan has risen above her dreadful family, kept her head with the help of her lovely mother and attentive husband. Morgan's script is boringly familiar: "She's a bad woman!" (Like Eve--things have been going downhill ever since she handed Adam that apple.) No matter what her father did--publishing a private letter is pretty damn bad--she should forgive him. I'm sure Meghan's forgiven her father and moved on--that doesn't mean she'd want to see him again. Nobody in her right mind would want to cozy up a parent who has harmed her.

I guess Piers Morgan is typical of a bunch of mostly white, mostly males shouting, "How Dare She?" in response to the wise, resourceful, brave, vulnerable, courageous Meghan and her deeply concerned husband. I think of the end of Pretty Woman:

What happens when the prince climbs up the tower and rescues the princess? Why, she rescues him right back, she answers, and they kiss.

Harry and Meghan are no longer just surviving--they are thriving.  Those who believe in the stiff upper lip and duty are those who pretend to rise above the constant insults, the invasion of privacy, that always seems to go with celebrity and--in this case--the actual presumed link, however faint it may seem, to divine right. The royal family has it worse than Hollywood celebrities, since the monarch is Head of the Church and Defender of the Faith. God's right-hand woman, ruling by His grace. The price of all that godliness is emotional numbness. No wonder Meghan longed to escape, and Harry realized that other ways were possible. He defended her and by her example she revealed that nobody has to be "trapped" as he certainly was.

How much members of the firm must wish to park their aching clay feet on a table and not be asked about podiatry, shoes, marriage, hygiene, or any other topic a tabloid can sell. Harry's feet, in the latest photo with Meghan and toddler Archie, have been scrutinized by prurient podiatrists along with everybody else. The further he walks from the royals, the less the tabloids will long to scrutinize toenail clippings. And those poor royals. They really think that exposing feelings is declassé.

The escape seems complete: Harry and Meghan are Californians now. What if Harry applied for American citizenship? Against all odds, they escaped alive from the firm, fought back, and are firming up their own plans. I salute them and can't wait to see the baby girl.

P.S. One friend's theory: Morgan has a crush on Harry. My theory: Morgan's actually got a crush on Meghan and she dared to say, "no, thanks." On the other hand, Morgan's claimed he's falling on a sword for the truth--that metaphor tips the balance toward Harry again.

P.P.S: The antidote: 

A Very Green Boomer Meal with a dash of COVID Rejection

A vitamin-packed, easy and delicious meal. You will need:

An artichoke (which you'll enjoy with melted butter and lemon juice whisked together or Hollandaise sauce--the packaged kind you heat up for two minutes)

Salt

Olive oil--about two tablespoons

One or two red onions

Several cloves of garlic, pressed

Several small packages of spinach or one big one

Feta cheese

Filo dough

 

The artichoke is the appetizer. If it's a large one, it needs about an hour to boil. Dump it into a large pot filled with water at a rolling boil and a handful of salt:

While the artichoke is incubating, or before, wash and drain your spinach. While it's still draining in a colander, chop the red onion gently sauté it. Add the pressed garlic and then the spinach: 

The spinach will fill the pan, but quickly cook down: 

Now you can get out your filo dough. I used this: 

Unpack the dough--you'll have about eight sheets--and cut it in half. Take two or three of the half-sheets and place them in a large baking dish (or cookie sheet) you've slicked slightly with olive oil. Each sheet should be baptized in at least a drop of oil, then spread out. Expectantly.

 Onto these anointed sheets, place a dollop of the spinach-onion-garlic mix. Savor the aroma!

If you're vegan, you're nearly done. You just fold the ends over the spinach mix, bake the little thing for about twenty minutes at around 190º, and yum!

But I'm a Boomer so I added the feta:

Then I folded up the ends:

Bake this til it's crispy brown--generally about fifteen or twenty minutes, but keep checking to make sure it doesn't burn. You can cover it with a sheet of baking parchment for a few minutes (or loose aluminum foil--you don't want to steam it though).

And to drink? This stuff looked fun: 

Red wine. But not just any red wine. You Americans: The title translates as VACCINE. But this being Germany, there's a cute little disclaimer underneath, reading: "Protects against no virus but makes the situation somewhat more comfortable."

Sure thing. It's also a "Qualitätswein" for "everyone with a sense of humor." Now is the wine a joke, or is this a really fun wine also belonging to that specifically German category of pretty good table wine--definitely a notch above rot gut, but not the very highest level. Probably pretty damn good, but I'll write a postscript if not.

Postscript: Chateaux Pissoir. Oh, in my opinion.

Boomer Drumstick Delight

Chicken drumsticks are easy and, according to boomer ideology, nutritious.  

(1) Place the drumsticks on a large plate or in the baking dish you plan to use. Coat with the flavored salt of your choice; Americans might like Lawry's seasoned salt. I used a German equivalent that includes paprika, cumin, and sugar. Leave in fridge for several hours or overnight--this ensures crispier skin.

(2) Remove from fridge. Wait until chicken is at room temperature.

(3) Chop and place in the bottom of the baking dish the following: a red onion, a red bell pepper, some garlic cloves (you can leave these whole), a few black olives, a few artichoke hearts (from a jar or a can) and some lemon slices. Put the drumsticks on top of all of this.

(3) Bake at 190º-200º C (400-ish F) for around an hour.  About fifteen minutes in, loosely place a sheet of aluminum foil over the dish. You may also wish to turn the drumsticks when you're about halfway through. 

Voila!

I served it with polenta made with lemon juice, vegetable broth and Parmesan, but potatoes, sweet potatoes, pumpkin, rice, are all good.

Enjoy!