Another Ponzi Scheme: Friendship Bread

(Note: this is an edited version of a previous essay.  This version will appear soon on Milwaukee's NPR affiliate: 89.7 WUWM)

It’s that time of year again, and the truth is out: those who gleefully hand out kits of homemade friendship bread are in fact NOT kind and warmhearted people, but rather mean-spirited souls who exult in the false hopes and misfortunes of others.

I recently had the honor of receiving the “Friendship Treatment” from Jan, who en route to her yoga class stopped by to offer me a bag filled with a thick, beige liquid along with a printout of instructions. “It’s a ten-day process, and we’re already on day four, so enjoy!” she said, practically skipping back to her van, certain that she’d helped to spread a little sunshine in my dim world, and I admit that initially I was flattered: someone had made bread for me! How thoughtful. How quaint.

For those who haven’t been indoctrinated into the world of friendship bread, the process is basically a ponzi scheme without the financial implications. You start with a few ingredients and mix them in a Ziplock bag. For the next ten days, you squeeze the bag a few times and occasionally add an ingredient or two. Eventually, you divide the mix into four different bags: one that will provide two loaves of bread for yourself, and the rest to be distributed to three friends who will repeat the process, and so on, until every man, woman and child on the planet has prepared, baked and eaten two loaves of bread.

It wasn’t until day ten that I realized just what a scam this bread-making business is. I learned that none of the previous nine days had been necessary at all, because I now had to empty practically every bag, box and bottle in my cupboard to finish the process.

Here are the ingredients I added on day ten:

Sugar, milk, flour, oil, MORE sugar, vanilla, eggs, baking powder, salt, MORE flour, MORE milk, baking soda, instant vanilla pudding mix and cinnamon.

Seriously. I’d basically fallen for a variation of the story “Stone Soup,” in which a man tricks a community to cook a big vat of soup by asking each citizen to add an ingredient, except in this version of the story, I was a community of one.

I have half a mind to give my friend a Ziplock bag filled with water and say, “Here’s a bag of friendship soup. Enjoy!”

So thanks anyway, but I’m going to pass on this charming tradition in the future. You want to be a friend? Bring a six-pack of Guinness over sometime, and if you really must include something baked, offer me your thoughts on world peace.

Murder, Cats and Friendship

Five years ago, my family experienced what can only be described as…well, a double homicide.  During a visit, my sister’s dog killed both of my daughter’s hamsters, not by eating them exactly, but by using his teeth to play with them until they were dead.  And though the event traumatized my children (to this day they block out the dog’s picture on our refrigerator with a strategically placed magnet), the murders did provide us with an opportunity, a silver lining, if you will.  We now had a clean pet-slate, the equivalent of using a small house fire as an excuse to update your living room furniture.  We could now purchase whatever family pet we wanted without worry of compatibility for the rodents we’d been keeping in cages (and whose lids weren’t quite as secure as we’d thought).

On a whim, we chose a couple of cute, flea-ridden kittens, to join our family.  They are now full-grown and flea-free, and they are fine additions to the house, except for one thing:

Do you have any idea how many people are allergic to cats?

I didn’t.  But I do now.  Statistics may tell you that about fifteen percent of Americans are allergic to cats, but I’d push that number closer to fifty.  Either that or the Chicago-Metro area is a haven for those allergic to felines. 

These days, when I invite someone to our home, I add, “I should mention that we have cats,” in the same tone I might use to say, “We keep a collection of body parts in the freezer.   Is that okay with you?”  I admit my offense and wait for a response, which is often something along the lines of, “Oh, um…well, I guess I could come in for a while, but I’ll be sure not to sit on your furniture.”

In the modern age of mobility, finding and keeping friends is difficult enough.  I may have 168 Facebook friends, but they don’t laugh when I tell a joke or offer a toast when I open a bottle of wine.  Human interaction is a necessity.  I need more excuses to get together with friends, not more excuses to keep them from entering my home.

Which is why I’d like to offer all of you this sage advice: buy a dog.  Or better yet, a hamster.  Just be sure to secure the lid with a bunch of those plastic zippy things the next time your sister’s dog comes over for a visit.

Writing for Baseball Digest

My first two writings Baseball Digest are now on-line, in what I hope to be the beginning of long-term relationship with the magazine. The first entry is a wrap-up of the Milwaukee Brewers' 2011 season (a little behind the curve), and the second is about the Brewers' off-season needs. The idea here is to get local writers to cover each of the thirty teams on a regular basis, and with any luck, we'll have regular entries throughout 2012. Stay tuned...

My First Rerun: Vocabulary Essay on WUWM

My essay on expanding my vocabulary, which originally aired on 89.7 WUWM's Lake Effect program last May, aired again this weekend.  My first rerun!  In case you missed it, click play below, with the first sentence truncated to make it still seem current.

Insanely short short-story: "A Bad Hand."

I've submitted this to the Lulu short story contest, open for the month of November.  A maximum of 600 words, which is a bit of a challenge.  Click here to read - it only takes about two minutes!