Preparing for cultures
This morning, my “Bain Marie” came out from the back of a cupboard. Hadn’t given much thought to it, in better than 35 years. You see, we’re preparing to go cultural here; should I say cultured? How about “living with culture”. Unsure, but we are going to make yogurt again, soon. The incubator is ready, we have a starter kit from the health store, and I’m shopping for an inexpensive source of powdered milk. Not sure that exists, in passing. We also watched some video lessons on the preparation of Kombucha, but that’s a whole other animal.
In the background, people are leaping and spinning. Ice dance, world level. Without ruffling too many feathers, I have difficulty with the cult. In almost every Olympic sport, the goal is clear. One should be able to do whatever “higher, faster, stronger” than the next person. Even in curling, with stones sliding at the pace of a fast walk, there are definable objectives. And then there are the “interpretive sports”.
Yes, those on the podium are great at their discipline. No, I can’t match their exploits. Nor can I judge the effort. As one commentator put it, unless you topple over, you’re still in the game. And at some point, in the interpretives, a judge will be called in to rate your performance. The rest of us (call us Common Man) are unqualified. The metrics are mysterious. Was his hand above his head for too long, on that lift. How long is “too long”? Not for the rest of us to know. Unless the camera pans too far to the side, we don’t even see the judges. What do they know? Perhaps we need phone-in voting, like on American Idol.
