Everything That Kills Me Makes Me Feel Alive: A Cyclospora Rant

I've been working hard to clean up my diet lately, and honestly, I'm feeling better because of it. I owe a lot of that to my late mother, who was years ahead of her time when it came to healthy eating. She always kept fresh fruits and vegetables in the house and made homemade dinners every night. She wasn't a health fanatic, but she believed good food was one of the best investments you could make in yourself.

Now we're hearing about Cyclospora, a microscopic parasite that's been linked to outbreaks in multiple states. It can contaminate fresh produce and cause days, or even weeks, of miserable symptoms like explosive diarrhea, stomach cramps, nausea, fatigue, and loss of appetite. 

Wonderful. Just when I finally get serious about eating healthier, I have to wonder if my salad is plotting against me.

Mom did leave me with one piece of advice from her years as a cook, caterer, and later in food service administration for the Poudre Valley School District in Colorado: whenever there's an E. coli outbreak or some strange foodborne bug making the rounds, stick with fruits and vegetables that have thick skins you peel yourself.. like bananas, oranges, avocados, and plantains, until the whole mess blows over. 

Looks like I'll be taking her advice. And seriously... what's next? We can't drink water either?

Patience, don't fail me now.

I really don't want to turn this post into one of those bitter old man rants. But let's be honest. There are so many things in this world that can tick you off every single day, and there's no shortage of fuel to keep the fire burning 

I still watch the news because I feel like I need to stay informed about what's going on. That being said, I watch a lot less of it than I used to. I basically just tune in to make sure the world's not burning down around me, and to see what I'm up against every day with the weather and traffic

Every day it's the same story. I find myself shaking my head in disgust before eventually turning it off because I just can't listen anymore.

I've never used this blog as a platform for politics or religion, and I never will. But I am so tired of this whole oil situation. I've learned not to believe anything that comes out of the mouths of people in power.

The ceasefire is on.. the ceasefire is off. Then it's back on again. It really is ridiculous. All it takes is a few words from the right person, and suddenly the stock market is swinging wildly while oil prices shoot up overnight.

I've always found it ridiculous how a company can buy their petrol and fill their tanks up at the gas station. Then.. that same gas, bought and paid for, still in the ground, not even pumped into cars, can go up 30 cents overnight because of the news.

It's a roller coaster, but I've started to master the art of ignoring as much of it as I can, because the alternative isn't good. I just stop for gas before my tank gets below half, top it off, grin and bear it, and prepare myself to ride this whole mess out.

Hopefully.

And that's the thing folks. I've always told my kids not to depend on the people in power. Do what you have to do for yourself. Do what's best for you and your family. Adjust when you need to. Change your approach if life throws something in your way.

Don't look at an obstacle as something that's blocking your path. Look at it as something that's forcing you to create a new path, or maybe even several new paths. Tweak what needs tweaking, adapt, and choose the path of least resistance. The one that gives you the best chance to succeed.

In this whole mess right now, that could mean simply driving a little less. Carpooling, or picking the absolute cheapest place that sells gas. For me that's consistently Sam's club, or utilizing loyalty apps. You might not think it, but these kinds of things really add up at the end of the month to your benefit.

I could go on and on about the state of the world and politics, but I just can't and won't go there. I don't want to become one of those guys who's angry all the time. Life's too short for that.

This little post just serves as opening the pressure release valve a little bit. A little self-therapy.. Maybe a bit of catharticism. Thanks for reading. 

And.. if you're dismayed by the current state of global affairs, hang in there. We're all on this together.

When Did Fast Food Stop Being Fast?

 This morning I was sitting in the parking lot at Bojangles waiting for two BO-Berry biscuits.

Two.

Not a family meal. Not twenty sandwiches. Not some complicated special order with seventeen modifications.

Just two biscuits.

And as I pulled up to the drive thru window after already waiting in line, I heard those dreaded words that anybody who eats fast food has come to hate:

"Can you pull ahead and we'll bring it out shortly?"

Good Lord, how I've come to loathe that phrase.

Maybe my memory is failing me, but I grew up in the 1970s and 1980s and became an adult in the 1990s, and I honestly don't remember being told to pull ahead and wait for food every other time I went through a drive thru.

Back in the day they'd take your order, take your money, hand you your food, and you'd drive away.

That was the whole concept.

Fast food.

Now they take your money and then send you into a parking lot with no clue whether you're going to be waiting two minutes or twenty.

As I write this, I've been sitting here for over nine minutes waiting for two biscuits with a little icing drizzled on top.

Somehow this has become normal.

In fact, many chains have built it right into the business model. There are entire sections of parking lots now dedicated to people who have already ordered, already paid, and are now waiting.

Can we even call it fast food anymore?

Maybe we should call it "pay first and we'll get around to it eventually food."

What irritates me most is that the customer is expected to absorb all the inconvenience.

You wait in line to order..
You wait in line to pay..
Then you're told to pull into a parking space and wait some more.

Maybe you've only got fifteen minutes before work, or you're running errands. Maybe you just wanted a quick coffee and breakfast sandwich. Well that's a shame. Because now your schedule belongs to the drive thru.

And don't even get me started on mobile ordering apps.

When those first came out, I thought they were going to be revolutionary. I remember thinking, "This is fantastic. I'll order ahead, show up, grab my food, and be on my way." Boy was I wrong.

Half the time you place your order fifteen or twenty minutes in advance, drive to the restaurant, and they don't even start preparing it until you arrive.

Then they send you to one of those designated waiting spots while they finish making the food you ordered twenty minutes ago.

How exactly is that progress?

One place that actually seems to understand convenience is Little Caesars.

I place my order on the app, I choose a pickup time, and when the pizza is ready, I get a notification. I simply walk in, enter my code at the Pizza Portal, the little door pops open, I grab my pizza, and I'm gone.

No waiting.

No guessing.

No sitting in a parking lot staring at my dashboard wondering if they've forgotten about me.

That's what technology is supposed to do.

That's what automation is supposed to accomplish.

It's supposed to make life easier.

It's supposed to streamline the process.

Instead, a lot of modern fast food feels like it's been optimized for the restaurant instead of the customer.

The wait hasn't disappeared, it's just been moved.

What's funny is that this whole trend has actually helped me cut back on fast food.

There have been plenty of times I've driven past a restaurant, thought about stopping for a quick bite, saw the line wrapped around the building, and decided it simply wasn't worth the hassle.

Nothing makes a burger less appealing than realizing you're about to spend half your lunch break trying to get it.

Maybe that's the silver lining.

The older I get, the less patience I have for sitting around in parking lots waiting on food that was supposed to be fast in the first place.

We were told technology would save us time. Instead, we're checking apps, entering codes, scanning QR menus, creating accounts, tracking orders, and sometimes still sitting in a parking lot waiting for a sandwich.

If all this technology is supposed to save time, why does it feel like I'm spending more time than ever just trying to buy lunch? Maybe it’s time I slow down and stop expecting the food I order to be fast all the time. Lately I've been skipping it more and more, so maybe I should lean into that. Heck.. Might even make me healthier, and probably a little more patient in the long run.

The Little Jar That Keeps My Mother's Memory Alive

 

Six months after losing my mom, I'm still trying to figure out how to live in a world without her.

People talk about grief as if it follows some kind of schedule. It does not.

Some days are manageable. Some days are awful. Some days a random song, smell, or memory can hit you out of nowhere and bring everything rushing back.

Lately, one of those reminders has come from something as simple as a jar of preserves.

For years, my mom loved Bonne Maman preserves. She'd tell me they were the best because they had simple ingredients. No high fructose corn syrup. No long list of things you can't pronounce. Just a handful of ingredients and real fruit.

Mom was never one to chase trends. She liked things that worked. She liked quality. She liked simplicity. And honestly.. she was usually right.

The other day I was standing in the grocery store looking at preserves. I picked up a few different brands and started reading the labels. Some seemed to have an endless list of ingredients. Then I saw the familiar Bonne Maman jars.

The little checkered lid.

The simple label.

The brand my mom always bought.

I knew it cost a couple dollars more, but I also knew I wasn't going to go through a jar every week. So I bought it.

Mom's favorite.

Since then, it's become a small morning ritual.

If I'm not having eggs and toast, I'll make a couple slices of healthy toast, add a tiny bit of butter, and spread on some Bonne Maman preserves. Then I'll sit down with my coffee.

Mom always loved her coffee.

As I sit there, I find myself looking at that simple little jar. The checkered lid. The straightforward label. Nothing fancy. Nothing flashy. In fact, the design is so simple it almost looks like something you could make at home.

And every morning I kept looking at those words:

'Bonne Maman'.

Deep in the back of my mind, I started wondering if "maman" might mean mom.

I never looked it up.

Until today.

Sure enough, I discovered that Bonne Maman roughly translates to "good mother."

I just sat there staring at the jar.

Now, maybe that's a coincidence.

Maybe it's just one of those strange little connections that happen in life.

Or maybe everything is connected in ways we don't fully understand.

I don't know.

What I do know is this:

The meaning didn't create the connection.

The connection was already there.

This wasn't some random product I discovered yesterday. This was my mom's favorite preserve for years. It was already tied to memories of her. It was already part of my morning routine. It was already bringing me comfort.

Learning what the name meant simply put words to a feeling that was already there.

As we get older, I think many of us start realizing how often our parents were right.

Not about everything. Nobody is.

But about many of the things that matter.

Quality over hype.

Simple over complicated.

Real ingredients over artificial ones.

Taking care of yourself.

Paying attention.

Living within your means.

Appreciating the little things.

What seemed like a preference when I was younger now feels more like wisdom.

The truth is, this post isn't really about preserves. It's about how the people we love never completely leave us.

They show up in recipes.

They show up in habits.

They show up in morning coffee.

They show up in things they taught us decades ago that suddenly make sense. And sometimes they even show up in a little jar sitting on a kitchen table.

Losing your mother is one of the hardest things a person can experience. If you've been through it, you know exactly what I mean. There are days when it's difficult to find any warmth, comfort, or light in the situation.

But every once in a while, life gives you a small gift.

A memory.

A reminder.

A connection.

Something that makes you smile before the tears come.

For me, that gift came in the form of a jar of Bonne Maman preserves.

And as strange as it sounds, I know I'll be buying it for the rest of my life.

Every morning when I open that little jar, I'll think About Mom.

And that's a pretty good way to start the day.

It Took Me 50 Years to Realize We Were in the Struggle

One day it just hits you.

You're sitting there in your fifties thinking about your childhood when suddenly you realize something that never occurred to you as a kid.

We were in the struggle and I never even knew it. The Reagan era was especially hard on my parents. My dad owned a small business, and there were times I'm sure he wondered how they were going to make it, and even came close to closing business. 

Mom and Dad never sat us down and talked about money problems. They never complained. They simply figured it out. They protected my brother and me from the stress so we could have what every kid deserves, a childhood.

As a kid, I never noticed any of that. I used to brown bag of my lunch from the time I was in first grade. When I finally got a metal lunch box, it was the only one I would ever have during the rest of my time spent in school. It was my black Star Wars lunch box from the late seventies.

Every school year I would see other kids showing up with shiny new lunch boxes from the latest movies and cartoons. I wanted one too. But looking back now, I understand why I never got one.

That money was going toward school clothes, shoes, groceries, and bills.

Mom had a way of stretching everything. Ham hocks turned into stew. Ground beef became a week of meals. Government cheese became quesadillas cooked right on the electric stove burner because we did not have a microwave. 

Every night after working all day cooking for hundreds of school kids, Mom would come home and cook another meal from scratch for us.

I thought that was just life.

Maybe it should have been.

We never went without food, but we also never wasted anything. My dad taught me something that stuck with me even more over time. If something broke, you fixed it. If something still had life in it, you kept using it. He had that old saying in spirit, "use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without".

 I didn’t realize it then, but that wasn’t just about saving money. It was about respecting what you already had. Sometimes he even made things better than they were before, not by replacing them, but by repairing them and learning how to take care of them. 

Dad Had a nacht for improving on a components design, making it better than the factory did and preventing it from breaking or wearing out again!

Our vacations were not fancy. They were camping trips or drives into the Colorado mountains. Sandwiches packed from home. Simple days that cost almost nothing.. but somehow gave us everything we needed. Peace, quiet, and time together.

My grandmother took that same idea even further. A Depression era Oklahoma farm girl, she could make something out of nothing. She sewed clothes for family, baked pies from fruit she had canned herself, and kept a pantry that could carry a family through winter. Nothing was wasted. Everything had a purpose.

As I got older, I drifted away from that mindset for a while. Like a lot of people, I started thinking happiness was tied to more. More money. More things. More status. I had to learn the hard way that it does not work that way.

My dad used to tell me to lead a simple life as much as I could.

It took me decades to understand what he meant.

These days I can sit down with a couple pieces of toast, a little butter and cherry preserves, and a cup of coffee and feel completely content. Not because life is perfect, but because I finally understand what I was given.

I was not raised with abundance because we had a lot.

I was raised with abundance because my parents and grandparents knew how to create it out of almost nothing.

More Than a Theme Song: Why Mr. Belvedere Had One of Television's Smartest Openings

Some television theme songs are catchy. Some tell you who the characters are. A few become nostalgic time capsules that instantly take you back to a certain place and time.

Then there is Mr. Belvedere.

The theme song, "According to Our New Arrival," performed by Leon Redbone and written by Gary Portnoy and Judy Hart Angelo, did something most sitcom theme songs never even attempted. It explained the entire premise, philosophy, and emotional heart of the show in less than a minute.

The older I get, the more I appreciate just how clever it really was.

Here are the lyrics..

Streaks on the china

Never mattered before

Who cared?

When you drop kicked your jacket

As you came through through the door

No one glared

But, sometimes things get

Turned around

And no one's spared

All hands look out below!

There's a change in the status quo

We're gonna need all the help that we can get

According to our new arrival

Life is more than mere survival

And we just might live the good life yet

A Show About More Than a Housekeeper

On the surface, Mr. Belvedere was about a British gentleman named Lynn Belvedere who becomes a live in housekeeper for the Owens family in Pittsburgh.

George Owens played by the late, great, Bob Eucker.. was a sportswriter. Marsha Owens was balancing family life while pursuing a law career. The kids were typical kids. The house was busy, loud, messy, and often chaotic.

Then.. Mr. Belvedere arrived.

Most people remember the show as a fish out of water comedy. A refined British gentleman trying to survive in a middle class American household. But the show was really about something deeper. It was about what happens when someone enters your life and quietly raises your expectations.

The Meaning Behind the Opening Lyrics

The song begins with lines about streaks on the china and dropping your jacket on the floor without anyone caring.

At first glance, those seem like simple observations about housekeeping. They are not. Those lyrics describe a family that has become comfortable with disorder. Not bad people. Not lazy people. Just people who have settled into routines that are good enough.

The Owens family was surviving. Mr. Belvedere wanted them to do more than survive. He wanted them to thrive. That idea becomes crystal clear in the most important lyric of the entire song:

"According to our new arrival, life is more than mere survival."

That single line may be the best summary of the entire series. Belvedere was not trying to create a perfect family. He was encouraging them to become the best version of themselves. Read more, learn more, take pride in your home, improve your habits, expect more from yourself. Those themes appeared over and over throughout the show's six season run

The Real Plot of Mr. Belvedere

Many sitcoms are built around funny situations, but Mr. Belvedere was built around personal growth. Every week the Owens family faced a problem, challenge, misunderstanding, or life lesson. Belvedere was usually the person who helped them see things differently

What made the show work so well was that he was not perfect either. He could be stubborn, judgmental, and overly confident. The family changed him just as much as he changed them

That is why another lyric in the song stands out:

"Sometimes things get turned around, and no one's spared."

Yes, everybody grows, everybody changes and nobody remains exactly the same. That was the real story

Why Leon Redbone Was the Perfect Choice

A huge part of the theme song's charm comes from Leon Redbone's performance. His voice sounded like it came from another era. While most television themes of the 1980s embraced contemporary pop music, Redbone brought a sound that felt decades older.

That was perfect for Mr. Belvedere himself. The Owens family represented modern America. Belvedere represented old world refinement, manners, and tradition. Even before the first scene began, the music was already telling us everything we needed to know about the character.

The Theme Song Was the Show

What makes "According to Our New Arrival" so memorable is that it was not simply introducing the characters.

It was introducing an idea. The idea that one person can walk into your life and inspire you to do better. Not through lectures, not through force, but through example.

That is why the final message of the song still resonates today.

The Owens family was not looking for a better life.

Yet because of Mr. Belvedere, they discovered they might actually find one.

"And we just might live the good life yet."

That line was never really about money or success, it was about growth and becoming more than you were yesterday. For a sitcom that many people remember as a lighthearted family comedy, that is a surprisingly profound message. And that's why decades later, the theme song remains one of the smartest and most meaningful openings in television history (in my humble opinion).

Final Thoughts

When I was younger, I enjoyed Mr. Belvedere because it was funny. Watching it now, I appreciate it for a completely different reason. The show understood something simple but important. Sometimes the most valuable person in our lives is not the one who makes us comfortable. It's the one who challenges us to be better. That was Mr. Belvedere's role in the Owens household. 

From the very first note of that wonderful theme song, the series told us exactly what it was all about and dropped some great philosophy to boot.  Maybe that's why I remember it after all these years.

The Psychology Behind Revisiting Forgotten 80s and 90s TV

There is a strange little phenomenon I have been thinking about and I'm not even sure it has a proper name.. but it definitely feels real in a way that is hard to ignore once you notice it.

It's the feeling of being drawn back to television shows or cultural moments you were technically around for when they were new, maybe even saw here and there, but never really committed to at the time. 

Not favorites. Not childhood obsessions. Just things that were part of the background noise of life. 

Then decades later.. something shifts and suddenly there is curiosity, even a kind of pull, like you want to go back and actually see what was going on there.

Not because you miss it exactly. It is more like you want to complete a missing piece of your own timeline. One example that keeps sticking with me is that old television show 'Mr. Belvedere'. I was never really a fan of it back then. I might have watched a half episode here or there, but it was never something I followed. It was just part of that great television landscape of the 1980s.

And now, years later, I find myself thinking I actually want to go back and watch it. Not because I suddenly think it was underrated or because I feel nostalgic in a traditional sense, but because I want to understand what that whole package actually was. 

I want to see the acting, especially from Bob Uecker, who plays the father in the series, and understand how all of it worked together in context. It's kind of like I only ever experienced the “thumbnail” version of it.

And then there's 'In the Heat of the Night', which is almost the opposite emotional experience. That was something I actually did watch occasionally growing up, mostly because you watched what was on in a household where the remote control was not exactly a democratic instrument. Long Story Short.. if the parents were watching television, you pretty much had to watch what they were watching at that moment.

What stands out now about 'In the Heat of the Night' is not just the show itself, but the feeling of it. It was gritty in a way that modern television often smooths over. It did not always resolve things neatly. Sometimes there was no clean ending, no satisfying moral bow tied around the story. Sometimes things just happened. A case ended, but not emotionally. A situation was solved but not fully understood.

As a kid that can feel unsatisfying. As an adult it feels more like realism. Now I find myself strangely drawn to it again, especially because it is available to stream at any time, and on free TV, played on a 24 hour loop on its own dedicated free channel. There is something about being able to drop into that world instantly that changes the relationship entirely. It is no longer “a show that used to be on.” It becomes an environment you can enter whenever you want.

And part of what I am really drawn to is the era itself. The cars, the clothes, the way people talk, the pacing of scenes. It is not just entertainment. It is a preserved slice of time. It is almost like walking through a museum where everything still moves and speaks.

Another such example that really surprises myself is 'Baywatch Nights'.

Back when it was new.. I remember hearing about it and kind of rolling my eyes. It already had a reputation in my head without me ever watching it. It was a spin off of something massive, and the premise sounded like it was trying to stretch itself into something it obviously was not.

At the time I did not have any interest in it at all. But now there is a different kind of curiosity. Especially knowing how the show shifted in tone after ratings floundered. It eventually leaned into supernatural and strange storylines kind of like X-Files. 

That kind of behind the scenes evolution is interesting in a way it never would have been when I was younger. It is not just “is this good or bad.” It is “what were they trying to do here and how did it change over time.” That is a very different way of watching television than the way we consumed it originally.

So I keep coming back to this idea that something has changed in how we relate to old media. It is not just nostalgia. It is not just memory. It feels more like selective reconnection.

We are drawn to things we were adjacent to, rather than fully immersed in. We are drawn to cultural artifacts that existed around us but were never fully processed. And now, with everything available on demand, there is almost an instinct to go back and fill in those gaps.

There is also something comforting about it that I did not expect. Not comfort in the sense of “this reminds me of childhood,” but comfort in structure. Older shows just had a slower rhythm. They are not optimized for constant stimulation. They take their time. Even when things are tense, they breathe differently than modern television.

And maybe that is part of it too. In a world where everything feels fast and compressed, going back to something slower, even something slightly cheesy or uneven, can feel grounding.

But I think the deeper thing.. is this idea that we are not always revisiting what we loved. Sometimes we are revisiting what we barely noticed.

The shows we half watched. The theme songs we remember more clearly than the plots. The series we dismissed but still absorbed through cultural osmosis. And now, years later, we finally have the time, the access, and maybe even the perspective to actually see what was there. Not as kids. Not as background noise. But maybe as something we are ready to finally understand.

The day they took away the good coffee

We’re creatures of habit. At least I know I am.

I don’t know about you, but when little things in my life suddenly change, even small things.. it throws me off more than it probably should. It actually irks me, disappoints me and sometimes it changes the whole mood of the day.

This morning I stopped into the local Speedway next to work. It’s one of those convenience stores that’s actually owned by 7-Eleven now, and honestly, they’ve stepped up their game lately when it comes to coffee and food.

They had two fresh ground coffee machines there. The kind that grinds the beans before every cup, and one of them made the most incredible Brazilian coffee. It was hands down the best coffee I’ve ever had from a convenience store. 

The beans were ground fresh right in the machine while it brewed your cup. I drank it black every time because it was that smooth. No bitterness. No harsh acidity. Just rich, fresh coffee with that beautiful little layer of foam sitting on top.

It became part of my routine.

Well.. this morning I walked in with a friend before work, and immediately something felt off. One of the machines was gone.

Of course it was the Brazilian coffee machine.

Both of us just stood there staring at the empty spot like someone had removed a landmark overnight. It sounds ridiculous saying it out loud, but we were genuinely disappointed. 

That coffee had become the best brewed coffee around for miles.

So there we were, less than enthusiastic, filling up cups of Colombian blend instead, trying to convince ourselves it was “good enough.”

Then an Orange County sheriff’s deputy walked up behind us. Someone we recognized.

She looked over, stopped dead in her tracks, and said, “Oh my God. Where’s the other coffee machine?”

Immediately she started saying the exact same thing we were thinking.

“I needed that Brazilian coffee. How am I supposed to get through the day now?”

I laughed and told her, “I guess they don’t want us having strong good strong coffee anymore.”

And suddenly the three of us were standing around mourning a coffee machine like it was an old friend.

That’s when it hit me how much people cling to routines and little comforts.

I’m a simple guy. I don’t ask for much. But that coffee had quietly become part of my mornings. Especially on those rough days when you’re dragging into work half awake, it was the perfect pick me up.

Such a small thing, yet somehow it managed to throw me off balance first thing in the morning.

The Colombian coffee was okay, I guess. But I had to drown it in cream because it was more acidic. The Brazilian coffee was smooth enough to drink black, which for me says everything.

Humans are funny like that.

We get comfortable with certain little things in life. A favorite item on a restaurant menu. A certain routine. A familiar product on a shelf. Then one day it disappears without warning, and it leaves this weird little hole in your day.

Not life changing. Not tragic.

Just… off.

And somehow those tiny changes can affect us more than we’d ever admit.

C'mon McDonald's.. you're killing me. (but not in the way you'd think)

I saw something recently that pretty much sealed it for me. McDonald’s is phasing out self serve soda fountains from dining rooms. Some locations already have. Others will follow. And for someone like me who actually likes to sit down, take a few minutes, and enjoy a meal, that one change feels bigger than it should. It feels like a message.

Don’t stay..

Get your food and go.

That’s really what this whole thing has turned into over the last decade. And honestly, it’s been bothering me for a while, I just couldn’t quite put my finger on it until now.

McDonald’s didn’t just modernize. It stripped itself down. Dehumanized itself, and lost its soul 

I’m not naive. It’s a business. It’s always been about making money. But it used to feel like there was another layer to it. There was some kind of human element baked into the experience. You were being served, not processed.

Now it feels like you’re purposely ignored and ironically, being herded like cattle.

The stores themselves tell the whole story. Walk into one today and it’s all gray, brown, and sterile. Clean, sure. Efficient, sure. But there’s no life in it. No personality. No reason to stay longer than you absolutely have to.

And that feels intentional.

Compare that to places that actually want you to sit for a bit. Even somewhere like Starbucks figured this out. Comfortable seating, a little bit of atmosphere, something that says it’s okay to exist here for a minute.

 McDonald’s went the complete opposite direction. Hard seats, bland surroundings, nothing to look at, nothing to feel. Eat and move along.

Maybe that’s the whole strategy now. Drive thru. Delivery apps. Quick turnover. Minimal interaction. Fewer employees. Less cost. More volume.

I get it.

I just don’t like it.

Because I remember what it used to be.

I grew up when McDonald’s actually felt fun. Bright colors. Weird little details everywhere. Hamburger shaped stools. Murals on the walls. Playgrounds outside where kids could burn off energy. 

You’d sit inside and people watch while sipping a soda and eating fries that somehow tasted better back then. When I was a little boy, I remember servers would even come back from behind the counter and top off people's coffee. Some would even toss me a little bag of McDonaldland cookies on occasion.

That's customer service. That's humanity. The real interactions and smiles behind the counter. Little moments that made it feel like a place, not just a transaction.

I even met Ronald McDonald a couple times as a kid. He would regularly make stops at the different McDonald's taking pictures with the kids, signing autographs, handing out little bags of McDonald's swag to the youngsters. That stuff sticks with you.

And it wasn’t just childhood nostalgia either. Even into the late 90s and early 2000s, taking my own kids there still felt like something. The restaurants were big. They were busy. There was energy. It felt alive.

Now it feels like a waiting room.

During my last visit, it kind of hit me all at once. Sitting there, looking around, realizing I didn’t want to be there any longer than necessary. And that’s when it clicked.

I’m probably done dining inside McDonald’s.

Not out of anger. Just… reality.

I’ll still hit the drive thru once in a while, especially for breakfast. That taste is still familiar. It still connects to a lot of good core memories. That part hasn’t changed much.

But the experience around it? That’s gone. And for me, that matters more than I realized.

Living here in Florida now, I’ve got a White Castle nearby with more being built soon. That’s probably going to be my go to when I want a burger fix. Funny how that comes full circle too, considering I ended up in their Craver Hall of Fame back in 2013. That’s a story for another day, but yeah, there’s history there. At least it still feels like something.

Maybe I’m just old school. Maybe I’m missing the point entirely and this is exactly what people want now. Fast, efficient, no interaction, no lingering.

If that’s the case, then McDonald’s is doing exactly what it set out to do. However for me, it feels like the end of something.

Not just a menu or a dining room feature, but an era where even a quick cheap meal had a little bit of warmth to it. A little bit of personality. A little bit of humanity.

I’ll still go back once in a while, take a bite, and probably get hit with a wave of nostalgia, but I think it’s time to start building new memories somewhere else.

Somewhere that still feels like it actually wants you there.

They didn't improve it. They replaced it.

You ever go to buy something you’ve used for years… and it’s just not the same?

Same name. Same packaging. Completely different product.

“New and improved.”

No it’s not. It’s gone.

I get why companies do it. They want new customers. They want to stay relevant. They want to look modern.

But somewhere along the way, they forgot about the people who built them.

The loyal ones. The repeat buyers. The ones who didn’t need convincing.

They traded consistency for mass appeal.

One that still annoys me is Fat Tire Amber Ale. It used to be a real amber ale. Toasty, balanced, had a distinct taste you could pick out anywhere.

Then New Belgium Brewing Company got bought by Lion Little World Beverages, owned by Kirin Holdings.

And suddenly, the flagship beer gets “updated.” Now it’s lighter, thinner, and forgettable. It tastes like they sanded off everything that made it stand out so it wouldn’t offend anyone.

I went to order one at a bar I used to go to and they told me they don’t even carry it anymore. That should tell you everything. I tried the new version once. That was enough.

Same thing happened with Franken Berry cereal. As a kid, it had a real flavor. Now it’s just… blah. You can tell something changed. Same box, different product.

And it’s not just food and drinks.

How many times have you loved a car, then the next model comes out and it feels cheaper, overdesigned, and nothing like the original?

All in the name of “innovation.”

Meanwhile, some companies prove you don’t need to touch what works.

White Castle still sells the same slider people have been buying forever.

Levi's 501 are still exactly what you expect them to be.

Stanley didn’t reinvent their identity—they leaned into it. When they made something new, it still felt like them.

That’s the difference.

You can add to a brand without erasing it. And when companies go too far, people notice.

New Coke is the perfect example. Coca-Cola rolled it out in 1985 and people hated it so much they had to bring the original back. That wasn’t a subtle message. That was customers saying, “We liked it the way it was.”

At the end of the day, this isn’t really about beer or cereal or jeans.

It’s about trust.

You stick with something because it’s consistent. Because it delivers every time. And when that changes without you asking for it, it feels like they decided your loyalty didn’t matter anymore.

So now I’m curious—

What’s a product they completely ruined for you? Feel free to drop a comment below. I'd love to hear your thoughts. 

McDonald’s Doesn’t Physically Feel Like McDonald’s Anymore

So while I largely dislike what McDonald’s has done with its interior design in recent years, I still occasionally get out of the car, go inside, order my food, and sit down to eat rather than dining in my vehicle.

It forces me to slow down if that makes sense. I just tend to eat much faster in the car. There is something psychological about it. Maybe it's conditioning from this rat race we live in, but it's like I eat more manically in my car.

But I can’t deny that sitting inside McDonald’s now is not very enjoyable. I walk in and order from the kiosk. No one greets me. I rarely see anyone unless they are delivering food to tables. Heck.. I’m sure eventually even that will stop, and your number will just flash up on the screen where in turn you grab your food from a shelf.

The interiors of these places are not very inviting. No pictures on the walls, stripped down furniture, and basic tables. My local McDonald’s has even removed the soda fountain from the dining area!

It feels like they want you in and out as fast as possible. Not many people even dine inside anymore, but the direction still feels intentional.

It is this kind of industrial efficiency focused design that seemed like a good idea to the stock holders I'm sure.. but I personally despise it.

Everything is built around speed and automation. They tout it as benefiting the customer, but really.. it benefits the restaurant more than anything else.

What I would give to sit in an old school McDonald’s again. Looking around at the colors, watching the lunch or breakfast rush, seeing people slow down a little and interact with each other or the staff. Yes it was fast food. Yes it was cheap. Yes it was a chain. But there was something about it. 

Like so many other things in life, I didn't know it at the time, but dining there was an experience all into itself.  If you were lucky enough to witness it yourself, you will probably agree that it is long gone. A big piece of innocence and perhaps something that in retrospect now feels a little magical. Now I'm afraid it is gone forever.

The honest truth, after my last dining experience and McDonald's I had a couple of days ago, I cannot see myself dining in house any longer. And that says a lot for me, someone who has been a lifelong fan of the brand and the concept. But I think I have come to accept, reluctantly, that the old version of McDonald's is gone and only lives on in my memories.

Maybe I should just step away from that relationship entirely and focus on smaller, independently owned burger places, if even that kind of thing still exists anymore.

Ah.. who am I kidding. I will continue to occasionally dine on McDonald's til' my dying day. Just not in the uncomfortable, unpleasant, sterile atmosphere devoid of customer service and life that is the McDonald's dining room.

First World Problems That Really Get Under My Skin

First world problem

noun:

A trivial inconvenience or minor annoyance experienced by people living in wealthy, developed societies, often ridiculous when compared to real problems elsewhere in the world.

In other words: problems that absolutely should not irritate you as much as they do… but somehow they still manage to crawl under your skin.

I will admit it. I sometimes feel a little ashamed at how petty some of these things make me feel. There is so much more to life. Real problems. Serious problems. 

And yet.. here are a few small things that still manage to drive me completely nuts.

Grounds in My Coffee ☕

Ugh. We have probably all experienced it. You take a nice long sip of coffee with the anticipation of warmth and comfort… and instead get a mouthful of coffee grounds.

Instant mood killer.

This is especially true with Turkish coffee which I love. It is delicious, rich, and aromatic, but that thick layer of sludge sitting at the bottom of the cup feels like a trap. You drink it slowly, carefully and then once you hit the grounds, that is it.

Game over.

Cup abandoned.

Cereal Box Engineering 🥣

What happened to cereal boxes?

When I was a kid, I do not remember them bulging open like an overstuffed suitcase after you poured one bowl.

These days the moment you open the box, it never closes properly again. The cardboard feels thinner, the folds never cooperate, and suddenly the whole thing is puffed out like it is trying to escape the pantry.

My solution is to dump it into an airtight container. Which honestly keeps it fresher anyway… but still. The box should do its job.

“Convenience” Fees 💸

This one really gets me.

Companies want everything paperless and digital now. No checks. No mailing payments. No paper statements.

Fine. I am on board.

But then when you go to pay your bill online, they tack on a $2 or $3 convenience fee.

Convenience for who?

I am saving them paper, postage, and the labor of someone processing payments… and I am the one paying extra?

That is not convenience.

That is a tiny digital toll booth.

The Iceberg Drink 🧊

You order a drink..

The cup gets filled with so much ice it barely closes, and then they pour the drink into whatever microscopic space remains.

Iced coffee is the worst offender.

By the time you are halfway through it, the ice has melted and you are drinking a watered down version of what you actually paid for.

I have started asking for light ice, which sometimes earns me the classic server stink eye, like the drink is coming out of their personal checking account.

Relax.

I just want a beverage that is not 70 percent frozen water.

Now I realize this post is starting to border on one of my classic old man rants, and trust me, I could write volumes about this kind of stuff.

But that is the funny thing about first world problems. They are ridiculous… and yet somehow they still manage to annoy us.

So I am curious.

What trivial, completely unnecessary annoyance really grinds your gears? Share in the comments below!

Gas prices.. buckle up

I stopped for gas one morning last week. Nothing unusual about that. But then I looked at the price and it had jumped 30 cents overnight.

I’ve seen prices creep up before. A few cents here, a few cents there. You notice it, but it doesn’t feel urgent. This felt different. This wasn’t a slow climb, it was a jump. The kind that makes you pause for a second longer than usual.

I’m not trying to get political about it. Everyone has their own opinions on why things like this happen. What sticks with me is a simpler question: how bad is this going to get?

Diesel is already pushing toward 6 dollars a gallon. And when that goes up, everything follows. It’s not just gas, it’s groceries, shipping, basic goods. The stuff you don’t think about until suddenly you have to.

I’ll be honest, I have a tendency to get in my own head about things like this. I can spiral a bit, think too far ahead. But at the same time, ignoring it completely doesn’t feel right either.

So maybe it’s just time to tighten things up a little.

Not panic. Not go overboard. Just be a bit more intentional.

Drive a little less when you can. Be smarter about spending. Maybe stock up, not in some extreme way, NOT hoarding toilet paper.. just the basics. Coffee, rice, pasta, canned goods, frozen foods. The kind of stuff you’ll use anyway.

I say prepare a bit now, before prices really start to shoot up and then hope this whole mess blows over sooner rather than later. Then maybe you’ll have a little money left to spend on life’s pleasantries instead of just the necessities.

I’m not turning into a prepper. But my old man was a Boy Scout, and one thing he drilled into me stuck:

'Always be prepared'.

Maybe that’s all this really is. Not fear, just paying attention.

saying goodbye to the best car I've ever owned up to this point. My 2009 Ford Focus

I’ve owned a lot of cars in my life and I mean a lot. Just about every make and model you can imagine. Some were terrible, some were great, and a few were somewhere in between. But what’s surprising, if not a little shocking, is that the best car I ever owned is the one I just parted ways with: a 2009 Ford Focus.

Now, I’ve owned Fords before that were downright awful. I’ve also owned some that were exceptional. But this particular Focus stands alone as the most reliable car I’ve ever had.

It crossed the 200,000-mile mark without breaking a sweat.

Mechanically, the list of things I had to do to it over the years was remarkably short. Aside from routine maintenance such as oil changes, brakes, batteries, tires, a serpentine belt, spark plugs, ignition coils, fuel injectors, and a thermostat, there were only two real fixes. 

I replaced a rear hub when it started to whine, and early on I swapped out a motor mount. That year of Focus was known for a vibration issue, but a $25 motor mount solved it permanently. And that was basically it.

One important detail. The entire drivetrain on that particular generation was made by Mazda. Exceptional engineering. Simple, durable, and built to last. I once considered upgrading to the next generation of focus, so I rented one to use for a week. Long story short, they were absolute garbage.

The truth is, I loved that car. Even after I stopped driving it regularly, it sat around for months because I just couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it. It was too dependable. If a friend was in a jam, that Focus was the car I would lend out without worrying about whether it would make the trip.

That car and I went through a lot together. Good times and bad. Road trips and long boring commutes to jobs I couldn’t stand. Relationship problems, life changes, and plenty of ordinary days in between. In many ways, it quietly carried me through some of the best and worst chapters of my life.

So letting it go wasn’t easy.

But the upside is that it went to a family who appreciated it. They bought it for their daughter after she wrecked her own 2009 Focus. They had already put a lot of work into their old car, including struts, tires, and other parts, and plan to move the best components over to my mechanically sound vehicle. They felt the same way about that generation of Focus that I did.

When I bought the car years ago, I had already done my research. Gas prices were surging at the time, and everyone was scrambling to get on waiting lists for Toyota hybrids. I ended up trading in my Land Rover for the Focus because it offered excellent fuel economy and a reputation for reliability.

I still remember the day I bought it. Another family with two kids were trading in a huge Ford Excursion for a Focus at the same time I was buying mine. By the end of that day, the dealership had sold seven of them and were completely sold out.

I never regretted buying that car.

For the entire time I owned it, that little Focus gave me something simple but incredibly valuable: the security of knowing I had reliable transportation.

I hope it keeps going for a long time and gives its new owners many more years of dependable driving.

Old Reliable earned it.

The McDonald's Big Arch (the bite heard around the world)

If you've been living under a rock, and haven't heard about the ridiculousness that is the McDonald's CEO trying a bite of the new 'Big Arch'.. do yourself a favor and go watch it right now.

Watching the McDonald’s CEO take tiny, hesitant bites of a massive burger is peak internet absurdity. There he is, the head honcho, nibbling like the thing might bite back. It comes off goofy, awkward, and honestly kind of hilarious. And, it has resulted in McDonald's selling an insane amount of these burgers.

I'm not so sure that hiring Jason Momoa to tear into that burger with huge monstrous bites, would have had the same impact as this awkward marketing campaign did.

But even in its awkwardness, it works. People are talking, sharing, and laughing about it. Suddenly McDonald’s is everywhere in the conversation. Heck, it even makes ME want to grab one after work just to see what the fuss is about. 

Bad publicity? They say there's no such thing. This example is proving to me more than ever, that this old addage holds water. Quite simply, this was viral gold for the company. 🍔