Image via LikeCool

Someone once told me, “You don’t have to cook cabbage, it cooks itself.” All cabbage on the stove asks is that you add liquid and leave it alone. With a little apple, onion and chicken broth, a beautiful and tasty head of purple cabbage cooks itself into a delightful side dish which is even better cold the next day. This is a bonus because a head of cabbage is not easy to finish in one sitting, no matter how good. This purple cabbage recipe goes very well with another lazy dish: oven cooked pulled pork.

The making of this version of pulled pork is less complicated than following the directions on boxed macaroni and cheese. You cut up pork shoulder into large chunks, cutting off as much fat as possible, and put it in an oven safe dish with a whole bottle of your favorite barbeque sauce. I have used Baby Ray’s successfully. Cover with foil and stick in the oven at 250 degrees and completely forget about it for 5 hours. Your nose will remind you.

After the slow cooking, the pork will be fork tender and easy to shred. Add a squirt of ketchup if it needs a little tang. Eat this pulled pork with the following purple cabbage recipe, and potato salad if you can get a hold of it. Cole slaw, cornbread and lemonade are other good ideas. Find someone else to take care of the dishes.

Purple Cabbage and Apples

I head purple cabbage, chopped coarsely

2 small apples, diced, you can leave the skin on

1 onion, diced

1 pat of sweet butter

1 can low sodium chicken broth

salt and pepper to taste

Throw the onions and apples into a pot with a little bit of butter.  Let it cook until the onion is translucent and the apple is beginning to soften.  Add cabbage and broth.  Put lid on pot and lower heat to low.  Leave it alone for an hour and then come back to season and eat.  This dish is even better the second day cold out of the fridge.

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featured image credit: Jamie Anderson

[xkcd]

So it was that in pursuit of general understanding of an apparently important cultural moment, I found myself sitting in a movie theater preparing to experience THE AVENGERS. I had no connection to the material, having never read the comics or feeling any real connection to the characters other than seeing most of the previous blockbuster superhero movies in which they appeared. Still, I had been hearing nothing but positive things about the movie, I had reasonably enjoyed some of the individual Marvel Comics movies, and most of all I was beginning to feel really left out since it seemed everyone else in the world saw the damn thing on opening weekend. So off I went, plunking down my $20 (or however outrageously high the ticket price was) and settling in for what I expected would be a positive communal experience.

The crowd was certainly into it. A week after opening the matinee screening was still filled up. As the movie started, it became clear that everyone was really into the film. With the appearance of each hero, villain, and zingy one-liner, the crowd swooned. This wasn’t like the numb audiences I’d shared through the last two TRANSFORMERS sequels, who seemed to be there simply because a blitz of marketing and American pop culture had brainwashed them into thinking it was mandatory. This was an audience that specifically wanted to see a movie with a bunch of comic book characters running from explosions, causing explosions, flying over explosions, and fighting some kind of robot-ish monster army (spoiler alert).

The film itself is both easy to attack and easy to defend. It’s not a good movie, but clearly it works in engaging an audience emotionally and leaving them satisfied. And really, how nuanced can a movie be combining a man in a robot costume, a bastardized god from Norse mythology, a big green cartoon character, and a “super soldier” whose only weapon is a shield? There’s plenty of witty(?) banter and impressive effects, so everyone leaves happy, not caring that the plot was stolen from an episode of MIGHTY MORPHIN’ POWER RANGERS.

When I was on the cusp of teenage-hood, I went through a period where I was really into comic books. It only lasted a few years (luckily, since it’s a surprisingly expensive habit), but aside from avoiding most Marvel books, I tried to read a bit of everything, or at least keep up with what was going on via Wizard magazine. I loved some of the stories dearly, yet always I felt a hint of shame in my enthusiasm. I knew deep down that most of what I was reading was trash, poorly written, clichéd, and sometimes blatantly plagiarized. Because of this, I didn’t like the message I sent out reading them publicly. I didn’t want some imagined sophisticated older person to see me and assume this was the only thing I was into, or that I was just some fanboy. So for the most part I kept my comic reading confined to my bedroom. Some 12-year-old boys had a porn stash; I had my comics collection (which ironically could serve the same function as porn in creating in a young man wildly wildly delusional expectations for the female form).

I bring this up because while sitting in the theater surrounded by people of all different stripes who were fully engaged in what has become the most popular movie in the world, I suddenly found myself overwhelmed with the same sense of shame I felt when I was spotted reading a comic book when I was 12. I know it’s completely irrational, but I felt like what I was watching was almost too childish and I didn’t want to be identified with it. This is of course absolutely ridiculous, but the feeling was there, and it only got worse as the two hours and change unspooled on screen.

So in its way, you could say THE AVENGERS made me feel like a kid again. It’s a film for children, and it’s no wonder kids go out of their minds for it. But it is a little surprising that adults seem to be going just as gaga over something that is really a very expensive Saturday morning cartoon. Maybe I’m just jealous of their enthusiasm, but it does strike me as a little sad. It’s disappointing that as a 12-year-old I felt embarrassed for my childish enthusiasms, not wanting some imagined adult to think me immature, only to grow up and find out that immature has become the popular thing.

It might be silly and pointless on my part to rail against such an inoffensive summer movie, but if you’re over the legal drinking age, maybe you should temper your enthusiasm for THE AVENGERS just a tad. If it’s something that a 12-year-old would be embarrassed to like, maybe a 30-year-old should feel a little shame at tweeting about how awesome it is. Save some of that excitement for a film more appropriate to your age and sophistication. I think BATTLESHIP comes out this weekend.

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Recently, my boss called me in to her office and gave me a counseling notice and said I had 10 days to improve my performance. Should I be worried? Am I going to get fired?

– Called into the Principal’s office

Dear Called,

Yes… Probably… I don’t know.

I’m doubtless not saying anything shocking when I relate that most people hate conflict, hate giving people bad news, hate confronting anything unpleasant in general. Just because the corporate gods have shined down upon your manager and christened her a “Manager” doesn’t automatically make her better at any of that. Or make her willing to deal with it either. That is what HR Departments are for, right?

Here’s what I do know, your boss HATED having to give you that counseling notice. Now, I don’t know what it was for, but I’m guessing this is how the conversation between your boss and your HR department went:

Your Boss: I want to let my employee, Called into the Principal’s Office go

Your HR Dept: Have you discussed this performance issue with her?

Your Boss: No, I just want you to let her go, she doesn’t listen to me and her work is sloppy

Your HR Dept: Have you given her any feedback on her work, told her what your expectations are, how she can improve?

Your Boss: No, just get rid of her

Your HR Dept: (clicking keys in the background) I see that you gave her a 4.5 out of 5 on her last performance review

Your Boss: I don’t care, I just want her gone, just deal with it

Your HR Dept: Yes, but first we need to document something…

At which point your HR Department gave your manager a nice long lecture on the importance of documenting things like this, mitigating risk to the company, blah, blah, blah during which time I GUARANTEE “doing the right thing for the employee” never really came up. They probably have a whole power point presentation, that they presented at some long ago Manager’s retreat held in some dusty downtown Marriott conference room.

So, there you are with your freshly photocopied Written Counseling Notice and a sick pit in your stomach. Are you going to get fired? Yes, probably– because this is usually the first step. The decision has already been made and this little piece of paper which is supposedly designed to communicate to you where you need to improve, and in theory provide a commitment to you that you will be allowed to improve, is just a formality. But, managers are lazy and conflict resistant (see above), so unless you are sacrificing small brown eyed puppies on a daily basis you might just be able to coast through this. The longer I work in corporate America the more I learn that most problems can be solved by patience. Things change, managers change, organizations change all the time.

Here’s some actual advice you use: Whatever you are doing that they’ve called out by giving you this notice, stop doing it. If you are coming in late every day, taking long lunches, getting drunk in the parking lot during your break, STOP doing that. If it is more work or skill related, ask for training, show some effort and willingness to learn and improve. Many times the notice will include actual remedial steps. Do these. Sure, maybe you are just putting off the inevitable, but I swear I’ve had employees stick around for years just teetering on that precipice. I remember one guy — every time we wanted to push him off, he’d shine up his loafers, set his alarm 30 minutes earlier in the morning and for a little while, try. He was still there when I left the company and is probably still there now.

But, if your boss is just crazy and hates you, and you have a weak HR department and none of the things above are relevant or will even work, then well, I’d say dust off the old resume. Please spell check it first, and don’t print it on blue paper, for the love of Mike. And your name at the top? You don’t have to find the frilliest font in the MS Word oeuvre for just your name, you really, really don’t. Whoever told you to do that has never received 300 resumes in one day for one job posting.

And, if it makes you feel any better, when they finally do call you up to the great HR Department in the sky, they probably won’t say “You’re fired.” About four years ago I spent a long road trip with my grandmother telling me all about how Donald Trump has made it acceptable again for companies to say “You’re fired.” It sticks out in my mind for many reasons: 1. This is a woman who hasn’t actually been in the workforce for over 20 years, 2. She was wearing this extremely un- age appropriate rhinestone and denim outfit that made her look like Dolly Parton was her personal shopper , and 3. She was wrong. I once had to do a find/replace in a large turnover strategy document I had prepared replacing the word “terminated” with “separated” because saying someone was “terminated” was too negative. I really wish I was making this up.

So, are you going to get fired? No, but you might get separated (or my favorite, when I was laid off from my job in London, England, they said I was being “made redundant,” how am I not supposed to take that personally?). But it’s not the end of the world, even in today’s economy, I swear. At least you can file for unemployment (unless you WERE actually killing puppies, they’d probably deny you for that).

Good Luck out there,

Madame HR

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[via Likecool]

I went on a date with this guy and everything was AMAZING. He is absolutely perfect except one thing: apparently he and his last girlfriend broke up because he cheated on her. I know the whole “once a cheater, always a cheater” adage but is this always true? I don’t want to be his next victim. Should I even bother going out with him again or should I ignore his calls?

Sincerely,
Trepidatey Katey

Dear TK,

Before you completely blow him off, perhaps the circumstances surrounding his indiscretions could be looked into. There are many different reasons people cheat. I know the stock answer is supposed to be, “Run – Don’t Walk from this Jerk!” But you know, life is more complicated than instant answers. One size does NOT fit all. Although it is a rule, “once a cheater always a cheater” there are exceptions. How did this information come to light? Admitting to his dalliance could be a big bonus in this fellow’s favor. A massive way to gain closeness and increase intimacy is through the disclosure of personal information that you would only tell a significant other. Is it possible he is trying to turn a new page in his life and begin on a clean slate filled with honesty?

That being said, when it comes down to it, you MUST rely on your instincts. What does your gut tell you? If you really like this guy, tell him about your trepidation. Pay attention to what is both said and not said but especially examine how you feel in and out of his presence. I am not suggesting you over-analyze, just be open to the real emotions you are experiencing and the truth will be revealed.

Lust & Happiness,
Dr. Miro

featured image credit: dhammza

Back in November, however, one day after I had an extensive conversation about how rock climbing could boost my strength and temper my anxiety, a deal popped up for an indoor rock climbing gym. It seemed like one of those glorious, coincidental timing things. So this girl, who is usually only swayed by discounted massages, bought a climbing session.

I printed the voucher, but the Groupon languished, magnetized to the fridge. Every time I reached for a snack, I was reminded that I was a total slacker who needed to climb. With only a week remaining before my deal expired, I called and made the appointment to do just that.

Rockreation Wall

After slipping on my rental climbing shoes (the source of the foot smell near the front desk) and stepping into a rental harness, I needed learn how to securely attach myself to a rope and how to anchor the rope for my climbing partner (the anchor person on the ground is called a belayer. Knowledge is power!) This is where Dennis comes into my life. A fit, slightly aging hippie, he teaches a thorough, yet entertaining, 2 hour class called “Fight Gravity 1″ for beginning climbers. After a little over an hour of instruction on knots (choke and poke the alien to make a figure 8) and attaching the belay equipment to your belt, the class of 11 students grouped into 3 pods. I paired off with my husband and two other, very nice, guys and prepared to climb. Lucky me. I got to go first. By this point I completely forgot we were there to climb.

Facing the wall, I barked the commands we were taught: “Belay on?” to which the response from your anchor should be “Belay on.” Then I gulped down my fear of heights, my worry that the vertigo would return to over take me and loudly proclaimed “CLIMBING!” My belayer said “Climb on…Dude.”

I climbed on. The first trip, I made it about 3/4 of the way up the 45 foot wall. Anxiety overtook reason, handholds blurred, my skin turned icy and electric. Then my breath left me. So I sat back in my harness, stuck my butt into the wind and walked down to Mother Earth. I can tell you that a big butt, mixed with a climbing harness pulled tight to keep you secure as you descend, is not a flattering look. But vanity be damned. I wanted to try again. I needed to make it to the top.

After my three pod mates climbed to the top, and I discovered I was a very good belayer, I gave the climbing wall my best blue-steel gaze and again yelled “CLIMBING!”

Sure enough, I was about 3/4 of the way to the top of that wall when I felt my breath go shallow, no hand hold seemed secure, my feet started to sway. But I would not be bested by a bumpy wall again. This time I relaxed. Stopping for a moment, I refocused, shifted from one foot hold to another and viola! within moments I was at the top. This time the rush I felt was exhilaration, not fear. My hand smacked the ceiling above me and I said “LOWER!” stepping one foot under the other until I was back to terra firma.

Today, in addition to a sense of accomplishment, I have sore arms, legs and abs. I see more rock climbing in my future, indoor and out, with ropes or just boulder hopping. All that came from opening an email and buying a Groupon. What a deal.

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featured image credit: spikeyhelen
lady rock climber credit: The Opus