"I don't like nuts" means I don't want nuts on my #$&$&# sundae

I don't like nuts.  Never have.  Never will.  I don't like the taste.  Don't like the smell. Don't like the texture.  I don't like nuts.

Not peanuts.  Not walnuts.  Not almonds.  Not macadamias.  Not pecans.

While I have been known occasionally to grab a handful of cashews, that doesn't really count. I still hate NUTS!

And for the longest time, people never took me seriously. Long before the nut allergy frenzy that we live in today, people dismissed not "liking" something as trivial.

Scars Run Deep

I can remember being out for dinner with my girlfriend in college back in the early '90s.  We were at Houlihan's in Weehawken on the waterfront at the peak of its popularity.  The crowds were crazy.  Thousands of people on a weekend night.  It was always packed.

We had enjoyed a nice dinner, and I decided to order an ice cream sundae to cap it off.  I asked the waiter if the sundae had nuts, and he said it did.  So, I explained that I didn't really like nuts and didn't want any on my sundae. "No problem, sir," he said, as he looked around the restaurant at all the beautiful patrons and potential big tippers.

"No nuts? No problem!"

I had fallen for this before.  It's "no problem" until the waiter forgets, the guy in the kitchen makes the standard sundae. and I am left sitting there biting into nuts when all I wanted was some nice ice cream.  Blech!

So, I stopped the waiter who seemed a bit distracted and said, "Seriously, I hate nuts, so please make sure there aren't any on my sundae."  He chuckled like this was a silly question and said, "No problem."

You know what happens next.  Sure enough, my chocolate sundae comes out, gets placed on the table in front of me and BINGO!  Walnuts splattered all over my sundae.  Aaarrgghh!

The truth is .... people don't take "not liking" something seriously.

Upping the Ante

Flash forward a few years later.  I was at a  restaurant on Long Beach Island with a bunch of friends.  We had enjoyed a nice dinner and I decided to order a brownie sundae.  Now a brownie sundae is very tricky.  At least with a regular sundae the walnuts are on top.  With a brownie sundae, you don't know what you've got in there until you bite into that brownie -- and you wind up with crunchy nuts in your mouth and it ruins your entire meal.

I had gotten older and wiser since Houlihan's, so this time when I asked for my brownie sundae from the waiter I decided to up the ante. I asked him if the brownie had nuts in it.  He said he didn't think so in a dismissive, "why does it matter, dude" type of tone.

I stopped the waiter and said with a meaningful pause, "Can you check because I am DEATHLY ALLERGIC to nuts."

I don't know what made me say "deathly allergic" that night. It may have been the scars of countless other waiters who dismissed my comment about hating nuts, not liking nuts, not wanting nuts, etc.  It may have been the joking, good mood we were all in that night.  I may have just tossed it out there as a social experiment.

The waiter brought out the brownie sundae.  Three scoops of chocolate ice cream topped with a mountain of whip cream and chocolate syrup .  All of it sitting on one of those gigantic TollHouse chocolate chip cookie brownies.  It was beautiful.
I gave the brownie a skeptical look.  My friends joked about  nuts being in the brownie, having never heard me say I was deathly allergic before.  As I was about to dive in, the young waiter came flying out of the kitchen, tripping over himself a la Jack Tripper from Three's Company, and grabbed my plate.  Apparently, his boss told him the brownie had nuts.

Finally, people paid attention.  It didn't matter if you spent years politely saying you hated nuts or didn't like nuts.  If you wanted their attention, say you're "deathly allergic."

I used this statement many more times over the years and I never had an issue with my desserts. It became a running joke with my family and friends.

The Joke Is On Me

Several years later, however, my wife Elena and I were visiting some very good friends in London and we went to a posh restaurant for dinner. Once again, we enjoyed a great dinner and I decided to cap it off with brownie sundae.  I asked the waiter about nuts in the brownies, and I told him I was DEATHLY ALLERGIC to nuts.

Now, this wasn't Houlihan's or some 18 year-old waiter in LBI.  This was the big leagues.  And as we sat there, I noticed a cluster of waiters and staff gathering in a corner of the restaurant, talking in whispers and looking in our direction.  Finally, the maitre d' came over.

"Sir, the waiter told me that you are allergic to nuts.  May I ask if you are feeling okay?" he said.  "I feel fine," I replied.

The maitre d' then explained to me that they were very concerned and were about to call an ambulance because the fish I had eaten was encrusted in NUTS. Ooops.  It tasted delicious.  Who knew!

I apologized profusely to the maitre d' and explained that I wasn't exactly allergic, blah, blah, blah.  Needless to say, my wife and friends were ready to kill me for causing such a scene -- and my  "fatal" allergy was miraculously cured -- forever.

As proof that God has a sense of humor -- or maybe a sense of irony -- today I have a wonderful six-year old son named Will. Cutest kid you'll ever see. Will is allergic -- SERIOUSLY allergic -- to nuts ... to shellfish ... and to all sorts of things.  Times have changed. Waiters will fall all over you when you utter the word allergies nowadays in a restaurant. And, I carry my bag of Will gear with me whenever we go out on the weekends -- epi-pen, inhaler -- whatever we might need.  I don't really like to put the words "death" and "allergies" in the same sentence any more -- unless I am telling a story about me being an ass.  ;)    

I Wish We All Were Morning Persons

This morning -- after two weeks of getting back into the school routine with the kids -- I shared an observation with my wife, Elena (She really loves my observations -- especially in the morning when she is in the midst of packing lunches, dispensing inhalers and serving Cinnabons).

I told her, "In my experience, there are clearly two types of people in this world.  Those who wake up in the morning, get all their jobs done, and then relax until they need to leave ... and those who wake up in the morning, relax a bit, and then race to get all their jobs done before they have to run out the door."

"Good Morning, Good Morning, to You..."

You can probably guess that I am in the first category. As Sutton Foster likes to sing -- and now Emma serenades me with, too -- "I've always been a morning person."  For those, who like the classics, you can enjoy Gene Kelly, Deb Reynolds and Donald O'Connor here.

I have always been someone who likes to get the unpleasant stuff out of the way first and then get my reward. I eat all my corn first, so I can enjoy that delicious steak and butter-soaked baked potato as the last prize on my taste buds.  I'd rather unpack the car, the bags, etc., before I crash on the couch. Exercise before I eat the Dunkin Donuts Boston Kreme.

A delayed reward brings greater satisfaction in my mind.  You get all those other nuisances out of the way and enjoy yourself with a clear conscience.

That is my thinking, but I know it's not universal -- as evidenced by our morning family routine.

Up and At 'Em

On a weekday morning, I will get out of bed after one hit on the snooze.  I hit the shower, get dressed and do the first round of wake-up calls upstairs.  Then I feed the dog, let her out, start the breakfast prep for the kids, clear out the dishwasher, go back upstairs for the second round of wake-ups -- and then I am done.

I could throw on my coat, jump in the car and head to the office in the next second.  So, now, I get my reward. I can take a deep breath, watch Tom & Jerry with the kids, and read the newspapers on my iPad.



This drives my wife crazy.  Don't you think?

She gets up about a half hour later than me.  She checks her email in bed, makes sure everyone's clothes are laid out and brings our son Will downstairs for breakfast. She makes the kids lunches and checks that their backpacks are loaded.  Class notes and instructions (Bus rider ... car rider ... dance class ... volleyball, blah, blah, blah) are conveyed to our sleepy-eyed crew who stumble downstairs in various states of grumpiness.  Somewhere in between all this, Elena goes back upstairs to gets herself dressed for work, settle any bathroom wars between Emma and Tess, and comes back down to eat her own breakfast.

Training The Kids 

My son Will is being trained to understand his dad's wisdom.  He finishes his breakfast, brushes his teeth, gets dressed and tries to spend some time on the XBox without anyone bothering him.  Tess generally gets up, dressed and stays locked in her room until I complete a few yells to get in the car (or unless she feels the need to battle with Emma).  Emma, meanwhile, lopes downstairs, nice and relaxed and goes quietly through her routine.

On weekends, it's a whole different ballgame.  Saturday is "live and let live" day. No wake-up calls.  No orders.  Dad can get up at 7 a.m. and do whatever crazy routine he has -- and Emma snooze until noon.  On Sundays, we invoke "Sunday rules."  No one can turn on a TV, XBox or iPad until they are up, fed, cleaned, dressed and ready for church (this means socks and shoes on -- see this post on the Sockless Life).

I could argue until I am blue in the face why "my way is better" -- (and my wife might argue you that I don't do half of what I described myself doing on a weekday morning).  That is not the point, people. :)

The truth is ... people are wired one way or the other.  You're either a bounce out of bed, bring it on, morning person.  Or, you're an ease me into my day, what is the rush, person.

It can make for some bumpy mornings when these two worlds collide -- but peaceful coexistence is the basic goal... maybe one day a week.
  

Long drives nourish the brain

I love long drives.  Call me crazy.  Truth is ... long drives nourish the brain. Long drives can be a unique time to disconnect, clear your head and put your mind on a bit of auto-pilot (of course, while obeying all posted speed limits and traffic laws).

And by long drives, I mean the easy flowing, peaceful drives when you are on vacation ... making an easy, daily commute ... or making that same routine drive to your parent's house that you could do in your sleep.  I don't mean the typical New Jersey "long drives" that are 2 hours on the Garden State Parkway in stop-and-go traffic to go five miles on a summer weekend.  Or, the frantic, "we are going to be late for my cousin's [wedding, christening, graduation] again" drive to Pennsylvania.  Or, the let's drive around town for two hours, but make 16 stops for groceries, dry cleaning, recycling, stamps, etc.  I mean nice, pleasant and long drives.

My mind starts to work in different ways when I am driving for a while.  My kids are usually all connected to some iPad, iPhone or iLithium type of product.  My wife is in full "flight attendant" mode, serving snacks and adjusting cabin temperature and can't be bothered with me.  Or, she has absolutely no desire to entertain my "big" questions about where we should retire in 20 years, or my small talk about the family life I miss when I am at work (Tess did what with the toilet paper?). Her glares across the front seat say it all -- "Please don't bother me.  I am trying to get some sleep or play Candy Crush on my iPhone."

Just Drive

So, on these long drives, my mind can go somewhere else.  You can't actually be "doing" something. You can't answer email or discover new stresses at the office.  You can't be on the computer reading The New York Times or checking Facebook.  You can't be washing dishes, sorting the mail or cleaning up dog crap in the yard.

The fact is you really can't be doing anything other than driving -- and you don't need to feel guilty about it. It's like your brain knows it is play time and it can shift into a different gear. Some people say at these moments of mental idleness you can let your mind "sort through a backlog of unprocessed data and empty itself of accumulated concerns." (See Scientific American for an interesting read on this topic.) 

For me, my mind will wander through old memories, think about fond friends or try to crack present problems.

• I might remember that my mother's birthday is coming and I haven't gotten her a gift, or recall where I hid my daughter's iPad when she was driving me crazy (sock drawer, usually.  Maybe the garage?).  
• I might have a fresh thought about a speech I am writing for work, or think about what I need for my next trip (What does one wear for a business trip to a pig farm?). 
• I might take the time for those meandering thoughts and critiques about what I am doing with my life (The idea for this blog came from one recent drive -- surprise!).  
• I might rehash difficult choices (changing jobs, buying new homes) or relive some of life's greatest moments (wedding day, vacation trips, kids' shining moments). 

I also might think about the kids' futures.  Will my son Will (age 6) sleep with his mother until he reaches the legal drinking age?  Will my daughter Emma really follow her theater dream, or become the wonderfully talented member of the family who waits tables and sings at funerals and birthday parties?   And will my daughter Tess really start that combination hair salon/child care/dog-walking business she talks about after watching an episode of Shark Tank?

Confinement, Introspection and Clarity

My wife has no idea that all of this is going on in my idle mind.  She just sees me grab another drink of soda, unwrap another piece of gum, or run my hands through my hair for the thousandth time to keep my tired eyes from drooping.

The long drive for my mind is about confinement, introspection and a little bit of clarity (and if you are lucky, after a few hours, it might also be about connecting with family when they surface from their digital comas -- but that's another topic).

The truth is long drives let your mind refresh, explore unusual ideas and exercise parts of your brain that are normally too  busy to do anything other than deal with the immediate problems of the day -- like how do I fix the cable box on World Cup Final day! .

So start the engine, roll down the windows and nourish your brain.  You may like what you find.