I am crazy busy over the next few days (and then leaving for a vacation in ITALY!) so I’m going to do that classic “blogger punt,” and ask you all a question:

Now that it’s winter again (*sob*) what’s your favorite, easy, cold-weather comfort food? (Or warm drink.) Share your recipes in comments!

Here’s one of mine, that I posted before–but I made it again last night and it’s so good. If you missed it the first time, or never tried it, you simply must.

PseudoNachos

Cooked brown rice, whole-wheat couscous, or quinoa
1 bell pepper (any color) chopped and seeded
1 can or 1/2 bag frozen corn
1 can black beans, drained & rinsed
1/2 to 1 cup thinly sliced or grated cheddar cheese
1 16-oz jar salsa
Sour cream or Greek yogurt

Cook rice or couscous according to directions. Heat pepper and corn in a skillet until corn is heated through and peppers are tender yet crispy, like an Auden poem. Add beans and cheese. Stir until cheese melts. Add salsa and cook until bubbling, stirring all the while.

Serve over rice or couscous, with a dollop of sour cream or yogurt on top. If you make couscous or quinoa,* the whole thing can be done in about 15 minutes.

*Or if, like me, you always keep some form of cooked grain in your refrigerator. This is the biggest tip I could offer for easy, healthy eating. (I started doing it this summer.) Cooked grains are like the plain black trousers of food: perfect as a base for anything. If you have a few cups of brown rice, say, in your fridge, you always have a meal: eat it hot or cold with milk/soy milk, nuts, and some honey for breakfast; add Greek yogurt and salsa for a quick snack; mix with chopped tofu and sriracha for lunch; heat up with some vegetables and a couple of Trader Joe’s chicken sausages, sliced, for dinner; boil some frozen vegetables with a cube or two of chicken bouillon and throw in a handful of rice and voila, soup.

What’s your favorite cold weather comfort food? Or, what tricks have you figured out for healthy eating on the go?

Many of you are probably familiar with Etsy, the online crafts store — “Your place to buy and sell all things handmade,” which brings individual craftspeople and customers together. So, after the High Holidays, and inspired by a friend’s mention that she had bought a beautiful wedding headdress from Etsy, I thought Etsy might just be the place to pick up one of those pretty beaded-mesh yarmulkes that one of my readers had mentioned last year. So I bop on over to the site, go to the “Religious” category, choose “Jewish” — and what should I find but this:

The Antler Menorah.

Described by its creator, JewishCowboy, as “A real unique artwork, made to be handed down for generations to come. Made by hand, guided by faith.” He goes on to add, helpfully, “If you have questions, please ask.”

I wouldn’t even know where to begin.

His other offerings tend toward the wall-plaque variety, including this gem:

I’m not so sure barbed wire is the ideal medium for Judaica, given, you know, history.

(Yes, I have submitted these to Regretsy, the online equivalent of The Museum of Bad Art. But I had to share it with you first, because you, like the Antler Menorah, are very very special to me. And also real unique.)

This blog post on the New York Times, by a returning Marine, is a fascinating read. The traditional narrative of the returning soldier’s readjustment tends to follow one of two lines: either that of a person so damaged by the horrors of war that they have been rendered unfit for life in polite society, or that of a person whose sense of discipline and honor is so refined that they are repelled by civilian sloppiness and laziness. This post is neither. Entitled “Let Me Get Right to the Point,” it focuses primarily on the difference in communication style between civilians and the military — and the different philosophical assumptions that underlie those differences:

One of the biggest changes I’ve undertaken has been relaxing my communication style. The Marine Corps values clear, direct, and accurate communication. Senior officers have little tolerance for meandering around your point, and they have zero tolerance for trivial or deceptive nonsense. Junior Marines are similar, except they can perceive this better than most field grade officers. I’ve learned that in civilian life many people want to banter about nothing for about 90 seconds before discussing anything of substance. I don’t necessarily like it, but now I can handle it.

…

At the root of the issue is that I strive to employ the Golden Rule: I treat people as I want to be treated. I do not want anyone to waste my time, so I try to be extremely respectful of others’ time.

There is much more in the article, but there’s so much to unpack just in those two brief bits!

For one thing, note that the communication style that the author, Jeffrey Barnett, considers respectful, many people and cultures (from national cultures to corporate ones) would consider distinctly rude. Even within the same city — Boston — and the same industry — academia — I have noticed this difference. I went to graduate school at Boston University and worked at Harvard during my last years of grad school, and in general, when dealing with the administrative staff, I tended toward Mr. Barnett’s mode. “Hello, Payroll Person. You clearly have several hundred other problems to solve, so I will present mine as concisely as possible and do my best to give you all the information you need, but no more, so that you may get on with your work.” Then I taught at wee little Emmanuel College for two years, and quickly realized that big-bureaucracy etiquette was not the same thing as small-community etiquette. At the big schools, you showed respect to Payroll Person by not wasting their time; at Emmanuel, you showed respect with a little small talk to acknowledge that they weren’t only Payroll Person, they were Sam or Betty, and had their own life outside of Payroll, thank you very much.

(This may have been slightly complicated by the fact that I was faculty at EC, instead of a lowly grad student or fellow administrator, and therefore very much needed to avoid copping Faculty Attitude. But I think the size had more to do with it, because you see the same difference in small towns versus big ones.)

The directness and clarity of the military, the strength of its culture, is part of why it has excelled, as an institution, at integrating people from many different ethnic groups and walks of life. The identity of “Marine” overrides that of race, creed, or color. And there must be a certain comfort to knowing so clearly how you are supposed to communicate, and why, and who is in charge of what at all times. I wrote recently about how, although I am neurotypical, moving around a lot as a kid gave me the same sense that people with Asperger’s have that the social world is mysterious and unknowable. Maybe this is part of why in high school I was considerably tempted to join Naval Junior ROTC, despite my manifest unsuitability for military life. The idea of a culture where the rules were explicit and clear, and where social status was indicated by clearly marked rank rather than shifting tides of popularity, seemed awfully soothing to me.

Please go read the post, and let me know your thoughts on it. I’ve been unable to get it out of my head for days, which is probably why it took me so long to get it on my blog — I couldn’t decide what of the essay’s many riches I wanted to focus on.

I’ll only mention one more, which is a particular pet peeve of mine — flag etiquette! Mr. Barnett, please know that at least one civilian gets it. I don’t know why it bothers me so, but people who own a flag and do not follow the flag code drive me nuts. It’s more respectful of the flag to burn it in protest (which acknowledges its power as a symbol) than to leave a battered flag out in the rain, or keep a flag out 24 hours a day without lights. I’m not saying one should necessarily respect the flag, but presumably, if you are displaying one, you do, so why not do it right? I’m particularly irritated by the soi-disant patriots with their sad, tattered antenna flags and ratty post-9/11 bumper stickers. Perhaps “These Colors Don’t Run,” but they do fade, so think about the message you’re sending, eh?

The answer to this question is not the title of the blog post below!

Rather, it’s the title of a talk I’ll be giving at a Boston University alumni luncheon this Friday. Shortly before I’d been asked to give the talk, I’d given another one in New Hampshire, at which someone asked me — as someone often does — what “makes [me] an expert”? As I mentioned to my Facebook friends afterward, I’m always tempted to answer “What makes you an expert?” with “The fact that people ask me questions,” but I fear that would sound sarcastic. I don’t mean it that way, though — I’m enough of a social constructionist to think there’s a good amount of truth in that reply.

It’s one thing to define expertise in a field that has boundaries. We know what karate is, so defining what it means to be an expert in the field of karate — or 17th century French drama, computer programming, veterinary medicine, architecture, even etiquette — is possible, if not necessarily simple. Of course, in all of these fields, levels of expertise can differ. More trickily, “expert” can either mean “having expert knowledge of,” as a critic would, or “being an expert practitioner of.”

I wrote about this question a couple of years ago on the other blog (back when that was a mishmash of whatever was preoccupying me, and wasn’t a straightforward question & response format as it is today). Check out the ideas I explored there. As applicable to the whole “Miss Conduct” venture, I wrote:

But if I am an expert, as Miss Conduct, what exactly am I an expert on? I’ve been writing the column nearly three years now and it moved beyond classic etiquette a long time ago. Social behavior, I suppose you could call it, but what isn’t? And in what way am I an expert? Whatever my column is about, there’s no degree in it, no professional organization, no standardized test to pass. I bring scholarly and work experience in theater, psychology, storytelling, comedy, project management, human resources, philosophy, and religion. And life experiences too odd and idiosyncratic to explain. But someone else could do just as good (well, almost as good …) a job as I do with a completely different skill set and experiences.

These are the ideas I want to explore Friday afternoon, I think, at the institution that granted me a PhD., which is where many people think my “expertise” comes from. I’m not so sure I agree with that. It’s an ingredient, sure, but if chili were only beef, we’d call it “steak.”

What am I an expert on?

What does it mean to be an “expert,” anyway?

What does it mean to be an authority? Does that differ from being an expert?

I would love to get your thoughts on this! And I will respond in comments, and share any insights that emerge from Friday’s lunch as well.

… isn’t me.

It’s Ann Landers, at least according to the title of a play about her life, which is opening this week off-Broadway — and this spring in Cambridge’s Central Square Theater.

CST’s six-show season (three plays each by two separate companies, the Nora Theatre Company and Underground Railway Theater) started with Harold Pinter’s “The Caretaker,” which is still running, and concludes with “The Lady with All the Answers” in the spring. Tickets to all six shows are $150 — quite a bargain! (Full disclosure: I’m on the URT Board. But I’m on it because I like it, not the other way around.) I hope you’ll think about subscribing.

… with apologies to Dr. Seuss:

I do not want them with a bow.
I do not want a peeping toe.
I do not want contrasting trim
I don’t want stitching on the rim.
I do not want platforms or wedges
Nor metal accents on the edges.
I do not want embossed designs
Of logos from designers’ lines.
I do not want an ankle strap.
I do not want a fringy flap.
Don’t want a sky-high stripper heel
(Sciatica does not appeal.)
I do not want a Mary Jane.
I want them simple, classic, plain.
I know the shoes I have in mind
Oh why are they so hard to find?

… is online here.

I’m not going to, but I can.

(Photo credit: David Kessler)

Got any cool Halloween costume ideas this year?

I’m asking as a favor to my cousin Dan, who came in second in a costume contest last year and is really itching for first this year. Last year, he went as his own Facebook page, which was good but very 2008. Dan lives in DC, and is 30, so something both generationally appropriate and connected to current events would be his top choice — however, he works in the media, so he can’t do anything so controversial he might lose his job. Labor and expense, however, are no obstacles. (Dan is tall, on the slender side, and sort of looks like Matt Damon, if that helps. And yes, he is single, ladies.)

What Should Cousin Dan Be?

What are you going to be? What’s your favorite Halloween costume, ever, or the one you’d most like to do but never quite managed to pull off? I had a great idea that I blogged a few years back, but never used:

Since I’m both a PhD and a cute brunette from Kansas, I thought I could go as “The Professor and Mary Ann.” Cut a cheap pair of khakis and a pair of jean cutoffs in half and sew them together. Alter a white oxford so it buttons down on one side and ties into a halter on the other. Slick all my hair back on one side and into a big poofy ponytail on the other, and carry around a science book and a coconut pie.

I still love that idea, but now I have my hair in a short bob and it’s red, so I can’t do that.

What are your best creative ideas, for Cousin Dan or anyone else?

I’ll be chatting today from noon-1 EDT here. If you can’t make the chat, you can read the transcript afterward.

My September 27 column in which I answered a question from a woman whose mother makes her “feel as though I am always walking on eggshells around her, waiting for her to explode at something that I say,” got a lot of response from readers. If you have someone like this in your life, please know two things:

1) You can get help, and

2) You are not alone.

One person sent in a link to a very thought-provoking quiz to determine — are you one of those people around whom others walk on eggshells? (Goodness, that was syntactically awkward, but you know what I mean.)

She wrote:

I am not kidding when I say my mother could answer “yes” to 2/3 of the questions. It’s a nice impartial way to see if you are over-reacting or if the person in question is just having a bad day. But that’s not its only purpose. Shouldn’t we all determine if we are difficult, and not realizing how others feel about interacting with us? Most of these behaviors are routed in bad manners. Treating others with dignity, respect, kindness and not embarrassing them is the key to any relationship, whether you know them intimately or not.

Thank you for sharing! And do check out the quiz.

What might it look like if Petruchio actually did have the good sense to write to Miss Conduct for advice? Maybe something like this:

Dear Miss Conduct,

I am a returning war veteran. Although every other donkey in Padua has a “Support the Troops” sticker pasted on its butt, the fact is, my benefits are running out and I’m going to be on the street soon. Also, there’s a long waiting line at the Padua VA for counseling, so my post-traumatic stress disorder has gone untreated for far too long.

Here’s my problem: I did meet a beautiful, rich woman whom I like a lot (she kind of reminds me of my old drill sergeant). But, as I said, I have pretty bad PTSD, and I’m afraid I used some inappropriate … let’s call them “enhanced wooing techniques” on her. Can this relationship be saved?

Signed, Love is a Battlefield.

What might it sound like if other famous literary characters wrote letters to an advice columnist? Leave yours in comments. (More fun if you don’t mention names, so we can guess!)

Next Thursday, October 15, I’ll be doing a special reading and signing for “Community Night” for Actors’ Shakespeare Project in conjunction with their production of “The Taming of the Shrew.”

From 5:45 until 7:15, I’ll be doing a reception, reading (from the relationships chapter, I think!), discussion of the play, and book-selling and signing at Upstairs on the Square. (In the Zebra Room, and do I have a fabulous zebra dress to go with it!) The play begins at 7:30 in The Garage, which is about a block away.

Tickets are a special price of $25, and can be gotten by calling Joanna at 617-776-2200 x 225. If you can only come to my (free!) segment, but not to the play, please call anyway so they can get a good head count. You will still be able to get the special Community Night price for any of the 3:00 pm matinees 10/24, 10/31, or 11/7. (Regular tickets are $47 and $38, so this is a good deal!)

I hope to see you there!

(This post will run at the top for the rest of the week. New content below.)

This is too funny: blogger FemaleScienceProfessor reports of a phishing scam at her university, in which “an unknown and nefarious person who sent an email to faculty in my department ‘from’ one of our departmental colleagues who had an emergency whilst traveling and needed a quick infusion of cash.”

Turns out, though: said colleague actually is disorganized to get him- or herself into such a situation. The giveaway was that the e-mail was too politely worded and well written to have come from said colleague.

Mr. Improbable and I finally got around to seeing “Drag Me to Hell,” inappropriately enough the night after Rosh Hashanah, but hey, that’s the only time the Brattle was showing it. I am a huge fan of Sam Raimi’s “Evil Dead” series, especially “Evil Dead II.” “Drag Me to Hell” had been heralded as a return on Mr. Raimi’s part to his ultraviolent, comedic, schlock-horror roots, so of course I had to go. (Don’t you bash on my lowbrow tastes — Roger Ebert liked it.)

“Hell” is the story of Christine, a young loan officer (you can tell they really, really wanted Jenna Fischer from “The Office” for this role) who denies an ancient Gypsy woman, Sylvia Ganush, a mortgage extension, and is subsequently cursed. The curse is delivered after an extended fight scene between Pam Christine and Mrs. Ganush in a parking garage. As I’ve mentioned, I’m a self-defense graduate, and I had to appreciate how Christine immediately went into action, fighting with total vigor, commitment, and ingenuity. If I’m ever attacked, I hope my training kicks in like that.

Which it might not, instantly, because in most situations, there’s a moment of disbelief. Most people without serious training — and I don’t mean the kind I got, I mean the kind soldiers get — have a moment of shock when another person aggresses, whether the form of that aggression is a racist joke, a subway grope, or a mugging. Then you sort of “come to” and start fighting, or running, or arguing, or (in the case of the subway grope) grabbing the guy’s hand, holding it up, and saying loudly “Who does this hand belong to? I found it on my butt.” In my life, I’ve only known one person who could go instantly from Suzy Creamcheese to wailing ninja banshee if she had to. Most of us get stopped in our tracks, at least for a crucial few seconds.

Especially — and this is where the “dream logic” part of the headline comes in — if you’re being attacked by a one-eyed Gypsy woman who looks about 110 years old. This is one of the things I love about Sam Raimi’s movies: his characters never pause to think about the sheer improbability of the situations they are in. They just cowboy up and do what needs to be done. Fine, my hand is possessed and trying to beat me to death. Chainsaw time! (The particularly awesome thing is that not only is Ash willing to accept that his hand is trying to kill him, but that it is laughing at him.)

This is how dream logic works. When I was a professor at Emmanuel College, I got to do some work with the distinguished, and very wonderful, J. Allan Hobson on dreams. One of his theories/discoveries is that when we are dreaming, we solve problems pretty much the same way we do when we are awake, with one exception: we don’t question the bizarre. In short, if I were dreaming that my hand were smashing dishes on my head while giggling hysterically, I wouldn’t say, “Hey, wait a minute, it’s not physiologically possible for a hand to manipulate itself in contradiction to the desires of my brain, nor, for that matter, does it have a mouth.” I would, instead, accept the situation as a given and use whatever problem-solving mechanisms come to me most naturally in everyday life.

Have you ever had this experience in a dream? I know I have, although I can’t always remember the details. I do remember a recent dream in which I offered someone sudafed. I am never without sudafed and aspirin in my purse, and will offer them at the drop of a hat to anyone who appears under the weather, so I thought it was really funny that I carry ‘em with me into dreamland as well. Yes, even in the depths of my unconscious mind, I am still a hypochondriac yenta. Good to know.

Now, here’s the cool thing: if you can train your mind to recognize the bizarreness of dream scenarios, but not let that wake you up, you can take control and do lucid dreaming. I’ve managed this once or twice, and let me tell you, lucid dreaming is fun. You can fly or do anything at all!

Have you ever lucid-dreamed? Have you ever solved a problem in a dream in exactly the same way you would have in real life? Have you ever been cursed by an ancient Gypsy woman? Discuss.