Huevos Rancheros for breakfast!

Cook Time: 10 minutes, at most

Ingredients:
Scrambled eggs (2)
Guacamole (pre-made, low-fat from Whole Foods)
Salsa (I use a Newman’s Own variety)
Black Beans (Canned, rinsed)
Tortilla (Whole wheat, from Whole Foods)

Skip the sour cream.  While the eggs are scrambling, heat the black beans in the microwave.  Heat the tortilla in a toaster oven, on a pan, or in the microwave–you don’t want to crisp it at all.   When the eggs are done, throw everything on top of the tortilla.  Some fresh-cracked pepper if you feel like it, and you’re done.  I’m personally not a cilantro fan.

Easy and tasty enough to cook most mornings.  The only improvement I’d make is to find a low-sugar guacamole, but the Whole Foods brand I’m using is better than any I’ve ever had in a restaurant.

When speaking to your employees, and grasping for a metaphor to liken the current economy, don’t use a rich man’s pastime.  Like, say, pleasure sailing.  How to make it worse?  Include a picture in your presentation of you doing said activity off the coast of Ireland.

I struggled with getting the nice-n-shiny Google icons for docs and calendar on my iPhone.  Clearing my cache, closing browser tabs, and swearing didn’t work.

1. On your iPhone, go to www.google.com.
2. Make sure you see the blue bar across the top of the page with links to Gmail, Calendar, Reader, etc.



3.  Select your desired app (e.g., Calendar).
4. Or, select More to see stuff like Google Talk and Docs (yay!).
5. When you’re on the page for the app you want to add to your home screen, click the plus sign to add it.

This will get the icons you want where going to docs.google.com won’t.

In your effort to evoke emotion, share deep insight, and have an effect on your audience, a little imp becomes the full-fledge demon of the profound.  Your weapon against the demon looks like the freaking spork of the mundane: don’t be profound.

Here’s what that means: write about the complicated in the simplest possible way.  Fiction or non-fiction, poetry or prose.  It’s the key to “show, not tell.”  Facts and theories and complicated explanations are boring–just try taking them to a party.

I’m guilty of it, too.  Just try plowing through one of my recent posts, “The Precision of Living.” It’s anything but precise.  But I’m working on it.  A follow up, “The Case for Cooking,” is me trying to tackle the same idea with a lighter tone and simpler writing.  Better, but not perfect.  Whenever I feel like I’m writing something lofty, I’m getting a better sense that it’s time to evaluate how and what I’m writing.

Read “The Giving Tree,” it’ll take you five minutes.  The greater an author’s mastery over a topic and his skill. the simpler he can express the idea.

Thrust and parry–be careful not to break your spork.

If eating is the most basic function for maintaining life (or one of the most basic), then it’s simple to see why it would be such a bonding social event for us.  First dates, weddings, and holidays, there’s not many times we get together that food isn’t one of the principal parts of those gatherings.  Get two or more people together, and somebody’s going to want to eat.

We live in a society of comforts where just about anything can be outsourced, and we outsource food more than anything else.  By outsource, I mean going to a restaurant.  Burger King, or a local fine dining establishment, they all amount to outsourcing your dinner.  Or, at least, the preparation and presentation of it (and the clean up, of course).  I’m not against all the comforts of a modern society, but the downside to outsourcing something is we often start outsourcing that thing all the time, and we eventually don’t know how to perform that skill.  Think about how many people you know who’d need a little guidance on just scrambling an egg.

Sure, even if you eat every meal out you can still get the socializing benefits in as you sit at the table together and let someone else take care of the dirty work.  We spend more time on our jobs and watching television these days, so why not narrow it down to the good part?  Well, if you know some basics of cooking, it’s not hard to learn to cook “healthy,” and we all know you can save a lot of money, too.  It’s the social part that interests me, though, and I believe the rituals we inherit and create around cooking and sharing a meal are what we lose when we eat out(sourced).

I put on a Beatles CD or turn on a local radio station before digging in the fridge.  If I’m about to make dinner, I probably open a hefeweizen or pour a glass of Cabernet.  I’m just a mediocre cook, but I enjoy the hell out of it.  When the food’s ready, I set the table.  A couple of candles and a hurricane lamp, and if I’m out to impress, I can garnish the table with fresh fruits in less than five minutes.  My girlfriend isn’t impressed anymore with a candlelit dinner and music, by the way.  I can do this any night of the week, and do.  That’s not to say she doesn’t enjoy it–she does.  There’s nothing difficult or expensive about this.  Making a table or plate look nice can be learned in five minutes, and my dishes mostly come from Target.  The silver candle holders and the lamp all came from Goodwill.  If you do have nice china and flatware, break ‘em out, use them often.  This stuff doesn’t get its meaning from its price tag, it comes from use, and the same goes for your cookware.  I use my grandparents’ cast iron often, and I enjoy that association.

The names of our inherited recipes get preceded by that person’s name.  ”Mom’s french toast.”  We tie identity into the composition and act of creating a food, and it never fails to evoke the memories and feelings we associate with it.  There’s more than one dish I make that I picked up from my brother, probably the best cook I know (or anyone else who’s ever had a meal prepared by him).  I like to think he gets the ritual, and I’m certain he knows how quickly people think of his cooking when they think of him.

Besides just reclaiming the enjoyment of preparing and sharing food, I think all of the nuisances in the process put us into the state of mind to enjoy the social benefit of it all.  When a nice looking, homemade dish goes on the table, with the atmosphere of music, candle light, or whatever else makes it special for you is in place, enjoying time together has a lot more meaning.

res
These letters are easy to remember.

tau
Like the Greek letter.

rant
As in a long, vehement speech. 

These are the nachos of the gods.  Yeah, I’m looking at pictures of food on Flickr.  Suzanne and I are planning a trip to Asheville in February, and Salsa’s (a restaurant) is at the top of the list of recommended cuisine to try.

This picture alone has ruined all other nachos for me, ever.

1. Do one task at a time.  

Does this need explaining?  Multitasking is a myth, no matter what your boss thinks.  This is the critical step for getting a task done.

2. Do not go on to another task until the ball is completely out of your court on the current task.  

This is where the magic happens.  Notice I didn’t say “until the task is complete.”  You might not be able to finish a task without input from another party.  This rule says put the ball completely out of your court.  You have no further action to take on the overall task until someone returns control of the thread to you, having completely done their part.  For my job, I’ve identified the possible outcomes for the tasks I perform, so I more easily recognize when I’ve reached one of those points.  Like David Allen says in GTD, this makes it so you just have to ping the other party on a regular interval, reminding them that they’re holding the ball.  Putting the ball completely out of your court means doing all the tedious things that go into making that happen.  Fill out paperwork right away–don’t put this off until later, in that imagined time where you’re going to churn through all the little stuff that needs to be done to put the ball out of your court.

GTD does a perfect job of explaining how most tasks are made up of smaller tasks, so I won’t reiterate that here.  It’s something to be aware of if you’re faced with long-term tasks that could take weeks, months, or be perpetual (which is job security–you’re not supposed to work yourself out of a job, unless you’re a consultant, in which case I suppose the same rule still applies).  Even with long-term tasks, the same rule works, except you get more granular with it and apply the rule to the sub-tasks that make up the whole.

My job made me miserable a few months ago.  The stress of pulling up in the office parking lot nearly kept me from walking in the door each day.  It’s a busy environment, with a lot of inputs that have to be managed.  At some point, I came to the conclusion the stress came from open loops.  Tasks in states of incompletion, the consequences of which brought on stress.  Worry about what I was forgetting and if there were any new ramifications from the things I knew I hadn’t completed yet was the source of what made me most unhappy about my job.  Symptoms I think a few of my colleagues shared.  So, like GTD says to do, I started closing those loops using these two rules.  It wasn’t the volume of work, it was all the open loops that caused the stress.  I think I actually handle a higher workload now with these rules.

GTD and 4HWW definitely take these ideas further, making one even more efficient and effective.  But, like I said, this is the starting point to me.  Controlling your workload by being able to say “no” to too many tasks and all other ideas flow outward from these two rules.  I’m not saying they’re the only things that will improve how you work, I just think they’re the primitive shapes that need to be mastered before layering on any other improvements.

I shared these ideas with some of the people I work with a while ago, and they have been positive in the response.  My friend Daniel had similar issues (handling the mundane paperwork type tasks he didn’t want to do), and he says that so far, my approach is working for him too.

Keeping it simple, and hoping this works for someone else out there…

I wonder if this is true for most other people.  We buy DVDs, then don’t really watch them but maybe once or twice.  I decided to trim down the collection, and I ended up giving away dozens of discs.  So, now I’ve got a few rules I’m mindful of when buying DVDs.  It’s all about buying the ones that are going to get replay time.

1. Music DVDs.  Especially live shows.  Pop ‘em in, watch a few minutes here and there, and they’re great background music when I’m up and doing things around the house.  A lot like listening to a CD or iTunes and great to watch for a few minute’s break.  I get the most replay out of these.  Jimi Hendrix at Woodstock, Pink Floyd’s “Live at Pompeii,” and Phish’s “IT.”  Stuff like that.

2. Documentaries that I especially enjoyed.  “A Map for Saturday,” Bill Moyer’s Joseph Campbell interview, “The Power of Myth.”  They’re great to lend out to friends, and I do watch them once or twice a year.  I want to pick up the BBC’s “Planet Earth” series after watching a few episodes at my sister’s house.  Great documentaries have great replay value, and since I’m very selective about them, I don’t own a ton that clutter up my space.

3. High-replay-valued movies.  This is a very limited category.  I see a lot of good movies that I’m fine with seeing just once, so I never intend to buy them.  Films that I’d buy usually have great quotable lines.  ”Pulp Fiction,” “The Princess Bride,” and “High Fidelity” are in this group.  I probably own less than ten actual films.

I’m not big on tv on DVD.  It’s one of those “you watch it once” things for me.  It’s better to see series on DVD than on tv, but I don’t like the commitment of space to owning a massive set of DVDs for one show.  I have the complete Monty Python’s “Flying Circus,” but I’ve only watched maybe 4 discs.  Now that Monty Python has everything Python ever online, I’ve got less need to own this set.

Ultimately, a digital soft copy of a movie is far better to me.  Play it on multiple devices, and it doesn’t ask for physical space in my environment.  There’s a serious move towards this idea, so I think I’m going to rip all of my discs sometime soon and just keep my collection completely on a hard drive instead of a shelf.  No dusting required.

I gave away “Braveheart” without having ever watched that disc.  That was maybe three years ago, and I’ve never missed it.

Possessions are tools for living life.  This includes anything you can own: books, a computer, a chef’s knife, a house, car, or clothes.  Luxury is a lack of precision in the knowledge of a tool or in its purpose.  Luxury implies an excess of resources, and thus less need for precision.  Jewelry, for example, has little or no purpose except to imply an excess of resources, making it a luxury.  The more expensive it is, the more of a luxury it is (and the less purpose it has!).

Comfort does not necessarily mean luxury.  Electricity, a safe and reliable car, or a good bed is a comfort.  However, comforts can become luxuries if their costs exceed their benefits.  I do believe comforts improve the quality of life when there is a purpose for them.

The best enjoyment of life comes from experiences: largely the acquisition of skills and their practice (e.g., skiing, cooking, writing, performing music, traveling).  Possessions are the tools for experiencing life.  Thus, possessions are best when they are the tools for experiencing life by practicing skills.

Outsourcing (a tool in its own right) many of the tasks of life is either a comfort or luxury.  Eating out at a restaurant, taking my car to a mechanic, or paying someone to cut my grass are all examples of outsourcing the tasks of my life.  Outsourcing is effective as a comfort when our time is better spent doing something else.  If a task is not beneficial or enjoyable, or if I can better contribute that time to being productive in a way I’m good at, it’s best outsourced.  However, many tasks we outsource are beneficial, enjoyable experiences of living.  These tasks may differ for people.  I believe, even as a mediocre cook, that preparing and sharing a meal is one of the most enjoyable experiences of living (I actually put cooking in a special class of tasks–one that I think everyone should know how to do–more on this in another essay).  Repairing a car is not, but it may be for someone else.

I intend to use these ideas as the basic framework for the things I own and want to buy.  Possessions can encumber us–the more numerous or costly our possessions, the more resources we must dedicate to maintaining them.  Ideally, these ideas will lead to me wanting and buying less and using my possessions to effectively better my life.

Conclusion:

Acquire possessions that improve the experiences of living.  Comforts do not contribute to the experience of living when their costs exceed their benefits, at which point they become luxuries.  As understanding and purpose for a possession or tool increases, the threshold for when a comfort becomes a luxury lowers (i.e., the benefits decrease).

Please feel free to disagree with me, especially with examples.  I do want to test these ideas.