Donovan Plans Meditation University
Happy Halloween to Ted and Noralynn, you little hippies. Hope have on your beads and neckties and that you're wearing your love like heaven. Hail, Atlantis!
Donovan Plans Meditation University
Happy Halloween to Ted and Noralynn, you little hippies. Hope have on your beads and neckties and that you're wearing your love like heaven. Hail, Atlantis!
Once a Catholic, always a Catholic, no matter what you want to call yourself - that's what I say. I'm not overly religious, or overly Catholic (despite the fact that I bring it up regularly here) - I'm more into the dogma, the rules and the consequences. But that's just me. My real religious philosophy is that a person should stay what they are in the first place because if you can't find your inner spirituality there, you're not going to find it anywhere else.
Now that that's out of the way, here is my line-up of saints for November:
St Joseph. Should I bury the statue? Heat season is approaching and I wanted to sell the old house before the furnace turns on. Feet up, Joe - you're goin' down.
I read an article somewhere about how the Catholicism of the Irish was based more on superstition and fear and that of the Italians was more of a free-wheeling debate with God.. As soon as I saw those written words, I remember a friend telling me that when she was a child, her grandmother would make her hamburgers on Friday because "God wants you to eat." I couldn't process that because the rules of the church were so written-in-stone for me. Lithuanians, maybe all Slavs, fall into the superstitious camp.
So I guess that its like comparing running into a brick wall as compared to ebb and flow. Now as an adult, I feel secure in my own decisions about the big moral ethical issues without first checking in with Rome, then I can certainly get that debate thing, only now I call it informed decision-making.
Although, I still don't get how a person of German background from a church-going family can live his whole life without owning a Nativity set and never even miss it. I wonder if I made him a gingerbread Nativity, if it would survive shipping to Texas?
Things are not always what they seem, my friends. Here we are in the first chill week of the year here - just as you are starting to feel it in your bones and pine for the easy days of summer, the sun slants low and floods your office and warms you and makes you happy. "Why bother striving on your own, having to take care of yourself? Don't worry" it says. "With me, you'll have everything you need. Join me. Come to the village - we'll take care of everything. You won't even have to think."
But beware! This is a devilish trick to blunt you and make you drowsy and lazy - stay alert! Watch the signs! They're shown themselves to taunt you, to let you know that no matter what words are used, it's still the same old devil, pedaling temptation and trying to lure you over with empty promises, but waiting, waiting to take the spirit right out of you. - There it is! Right at the top of the arm of the chair. It's burned into the wood, you can still see the smoke rising up from it - I think I smell sulfer, too. Look closely - see it? Behold the image of evil! Ayyyyyiiiiii!
Run! Run away before its too late! Ayyyyyiiiiii!
In other methods of terror, behold the hunter green door as a compliment to grape wall color. Then add in a teal chair, and a carpet done up in khaki, olive and sage and the triple surge protectors of doom. This Halloween season gets rougher every year, doesn't it?
I have a collection of post drafts in my files that I started then abandoned. Some are just random notes and some are several full paragraphs. I no longer have an interest in retaining them, so I'm just piling up the titles and ideas here before I discard them entirely. I do this to get it on the record that I occasionally have more to talk about than business travel and how beautiful my hostas are. Except that I didn't follow through so I guess that is all I have to talk about.
Distantly Related To Greatness This was about Boris and his audition for Stupid Pet Tricks on the Letterman show. See how cleverly I referenced the recurring Late Show feature "Brush With Greatness"? This one is notable because I actually worked the information into another post, instead of letting it go entirely.
The Escalation of Suzette To bad I never followed through with this one. It was about a plan to leave comments around the internet, a progressive number each day. I do like putting "Suzette" into the post title and I may continue to do that until I grow bored. Possibly tomorrow.
No One Likes A Good Infomercial More Than I Do Undeterred by his legal spanking for hawking phony cancer cures, Kevin Trudeau is pushing his easy weight loss book all over the wee small hours. Turns out this involves 30 consecutive days of colonic cleansings and 45 days of injecting yourself with Human Growth hormone. Effortless!
I Know You Are But What Am I? All questions - (1) Who doesn't like singing along with to "Before He Cheats"? (2) Isn't it so amusing that the phrase "white trash version of Shania kareoke" is used as a put down? (3) Isn't the whole country music genre white trash? (4) Am I not white trash too for liking this song? (5) Can somebody please teach me how to shoot whiskey?
Ego Sum Promptus I don't know what I was trying to convey here but I suspect that Babelfish was involved. The only notes in the draft say "Latin Mass" and "wearing hats in church". Have I mentioned that I look good in any hat?
Snapshots from California: Fess Parker Liberates the 405 This one is from January of this year. : "California fairly drips with good wine and none but the fool would surrender the opportunity. Queen of the wild frontier, if by wild frontier you mean doors slammed shut, aphasia and jaws clamped shut by despair. The oasis shimmers in the distance but it demands the movement of my own hand to liberate me." What a mess. Who was that person?
People want to give me dogs. And I want a dog - it's weird and unsettling to be without one for the first time in 25 years. It must show on me when I'm walking around. I'm dogless and it's not my natural state.
Dog #1 - Joey the Papillion. The secretary where I work now has been a long time owner and trainer of Paps. She has two now - Jack, the toothless 16 year-old and this rambunctious 18 month old. Her only daughter just produced the first grandchild and she wants to move closer to them but her apartment options are limited because she has pets. She's considering finding a new home for Joey, who is a ton of energy in a 6 pound package. When he was younger, his owner was carefully putting him down on the floor, two legs at a time, when one of those legs snapped. Very delicate, very affectionate.
Dog #2 - Bugsy the Soft-Coated Wheaton Terrier. This 2 year-old is currently in the custody of another person in the building where my office is. She has a close relative with a history of buying dogs and then ditching them. Previously, she's gotten rid of 2 perfect golden retrievers (because she was getting married) and 2 perfect Labrador retrievers (because she was pregnant). Now she's got a cocker spaniel and this guy, and says that her children are allergic to dogs so she off-loaded Bugsy to my building mate. That might not be his name exactly, but it's something equally bad - Buster or Buford, something like that. He lives now with a couple who have another dog and a big unfenced property in coyote country. That means he has to be walked, unlike the resident dog. He also dominates the first dog, which they can't tolerate that so they are looking for a good home for him.
So, I don't know. Both are good dogs, pedigreed dogs, which means nothing unless you want to breed them but they are both true to their breed temperament, and proven socially. Joey is a lover not a fighter and Busgy survived life with small, unruly children and at least 2 other dogs, so he has to be fairly mellow.
You should also know that I have no qualms whatsoever about renaming a dog.
In other news, not directly related, inflatable corgis:
I love how they have captured the amazing resemblance to a big baloney.
I confess that poetry - sometimes even the word "poetry" - makes me yawn, but every now and then, something comes along that stops me in my tracks and this is one of those times:
The Fray is filled with love and hate for this piece. Is that the measure of a good work? Or it is merely earnestness, snark, misogyny and pious opining about Breast Cancer Awareness month?
Peg Bracken died today.
Way back in the day, the only glimpse of fame and glamor that came remotely near was was thanks to Merv Griffin or Mike Douglas, even if the fame and glamor was personified by the likes of Ethel Merman, Ann Miller or Steve & Edie. I didn't really know who they were, but they were all dressed up and seemed to be having so much fun. One frequent visitor to those shows was Peg Bracken, talking about her best-selling book The I Hate To Cook Book.
No housewife, mother, or other female figure known to us was like this - a woman who did not see her destiny as hearth and home. Little did we know at the time that she had a successful career as a copywriter, or as it was said then, she was a woman who went to business. We didn't know any women who went to business, or even that there was such a thing as a copywriter. If it had turned out that she worked in a factory or was a department store clerk, that we could have related to. but we did recognize the clarion call she was trumpeting - she didn't glorify the life of female servitude we accepted as normal. A breathtaking hint that not everything was like Wilkes-Barre.
I remember her as being wildly funny, but for the life of me, I can't remember why. She wasn't like Phyllis Diller, who you could tell was only fantasizing with her tales of substandard homemaking. No, this one was talking what she lived. Maybe I was simply giddy with the idea of it all, or maybe I was anoxic from holding my breath, waiting for someone to come who would put her in her place. I never laid eyes on an actual copy of the book, but I never forgot about it either.
Only a few years ago, I got a copy of it for Xmas from the eBay holiday fairy herself. It was perfect when she bought it - here it is wearing a tasty dust jacket that met up with Harry the Rabbit. The idea was that I would make fun of it in my cookbook reviews at The Soup, but I could never bring myself to mock it.
The beauty of it was not so much the recipes themselves, but the introductions. Here's an example from Chapter 2: The Leftover, or Every Family Needs A Dog -
"Do you know the really basic trouble here? It's your guilt complex. Its the cookbooks you already have that are to blame for your bad concience and, hence, your leftover problem. They seem to consider everything a leftover. For instance, cake. This is like telling you what to do with your leftover whiskey. Cake isn't a leftover; cake is cake and its either eaten or it isn't. You certainly don't want to let the cake get stale so that you can make a Stale-Cake Pudding for the family - they're the ones who left so much of it in the first time, remember?"
You cannot imagine what near-blasphemy thoughts like this were. In the whole town, there was not a woman who would so much as utter the word "whiskey" out loud, let alone reference it in a cookbook. Neither would they throw out a leftover, a crime of equal magnitude.
Times change. So let's hoist some Fake Hollandaise and make some CanCan Casserole and hope that old Peg is gone to a place where there are no more potluck suppers. Peg's closing words capture the guiding spirit of The Soup. Turns out those afternoons in front of Merv and Mike were preparing me to be the Soup Lady.
"Understand now - you needn't actually make these things. Unless you are absolutely up a stump and the chips are down, you merely need to talk about making them. For, while they're good, and easy, still it is more trouble to make them than not to make them; and my feelings will not be a bit hurt if you don't. I will understand."
Sami's vacation in southern California is over and he's due to get on a plane tomorrow morning to come home. Too bad that all the roads he has to travel to get there are closed, gridlocked with evacuees or damaged by the flames of the monster fire.
The news has been full of the celebrity's homes in Malibu that are threatened, but they missed the big story that Sami is now up the creek. The airport is open as of 9pm Monday, but try getting to it. He's trying to change his departure location to LAX or Orange County Airport, but guess what? Customer service for both U.S. Airways and Alamo Car rental is located in India and they are not equipped to discuss American disaster accommodation.
Looks like a long night ahead and the outcome is still unclear.
4 am UPDATE: Sami successfully, although not easily, changed his departure to LAX. He had to take a one-stop instead of a non-stop making his total travel time 9 hours instead of 5, not including LA freeway time but he is happy to be getting out. Fingers crossed. . All of the SoCal airports have a travel advisory in effect so good luck to him.
8:30 am UPDATE: Sami is on the road (5:30am) headed to LAX for a 9am PT flight. I hope he gave himself enough time.
12:30 pm UPDATE: Sami did indeed make it onto the plane, although just by the skin of his teeth. He called me as they were about to push away from the gate to say that he left his cellphone, aka new Razr, in the rental car - could I take care of that for him? I'll do my best, but babies - let me be the one to inform you that Alamo is no Hertz.
8:16 pm UPDATE: Sami's plane has finally taken off from Charlotte, two hours late. No phone was reported to Alamo's Lost and Found and I'm on my way to do automotive battle at the passenger Pick-Up at Newark to meet him.
11:30 pm UPDATE: Sami is home safe and sound. I was encouraging him to take the shuttle or a cab home from the airport, but because his travel day was more than 12 hours with the I-could-have-predicted-it ground delays at Newark, I did a mercy run and picked him up at Terminal A. Now let's focus our worry on Ted, who under the best circumstances, is an iffy communicator.
"On Tuesday, firefighters battled a blaze in Fallbrook, about 10 miles south of Temecula, that has consumed several thousand acres as well as another fire about five miles west of Temecula in De Luz. A fire that started Tuesday near Palomar Mountain created a plume of smoke visible throughout southwest Riverside County."
An open letter to my son:
Make sure your phone is charged and turned on.
Also, answer it when I call you.
The afternoon was clear and warm so I spread out the chair cushions to dry out before storage. I took down the canopy which made it good for plane watching but bad for acknowledging the end of the season.
Five grand morning glories were in bloom on the fence toady, but I didn't take a picture because I felt like their true purpose was to bloom and wait, not bloom and be memorialized, or bloom and be stared at all winter long.
I'm considering making my own Christmas cards this year. I have a bit of art in me - I could do it.
The variety of elegant Thank You For Your Business holiday cards is growing while it's getting more and more difficult to find actual Christmas cards. What with the time constraints of the modern hustle and bustle, I confess that the volume of cards I send is greatly diminished from what it once was - that and the high price of postage. So if I'm going to send cards, they should suit me and my recipients exactly.
A friend of mine once told me that she could predict the type of card was inside the envelopes she received because people don't vary from the type of cards they like: one person always sends Lion and Lamb cards, another sends one with cats on them, somebody else picks angel cards. I guess that's true because I generally gravitate to We Three Kings of Orient Are cards. This is one of the few areas that Sami and I can agree on because he likes to see geographically correct period buildings of Bethlehem on cards and maybe a palm tree, as opposed to wooden barns or bed chambers of the Italian Renaissance as a nativity setting. The We Three Kings of Orient Are often depicted pausing on a hilltop to look at the town of Bethlehem. Potential bonus features here: sand, the star, and a camel or two.
Anyway, I'm thinking of crumpled brown craft paper and some kind of image of pine branches. After that, every card gets customized. Note to self: start watching for glue on sale and perhaps a reasonably priced paper guillotine.
UPDATE: Oh, happy day! Check out this Craft Lite Cutter, which seems to be from the same people as the Purse Brite, if the video demo is any clue to go by. I'm going to start stockpiling paper bags from the supermarket, which I find more appealing in their loose, soft feel compared to the stiffness of rolls of craft paper.
Two days ago, there was no noticeable leaf color anywhere at all around here. Today, this is my view from my home office window.
This post is for Dave, a self-confessed Autumn lover, even though he makes sport me with a constant stream of irritating comments here and an even-worse aggravation via IM. I have been putting up with this treatment since 9th grade so you'd think I'd be used to it, wouldn't you?
Here is a partial list of the methods of communication that are blocked for me:
1. Blogger comment boxes. Sometimes, this function won't take my sign-in, sometimes it won't let me publish. Yesterday, I tried 3 times to publish a pithy rejoinder to this post on The Rix Mix. When the third time failed to post, I made a self-deprecating statement about my publishing skills which also did not post.
2. Word Press. One word: grrrr!. Many is the time I'd like to join the comment conversation at Dyslexic Chicken but the evil WordPress won't let me log-in. I re-register as Suzette, Suzettesuzette, Suzettesuzettesuzette, etc. and sometimes that works but I am giving up. Too bad, too because there's big news over there now that is extremely comment-worthy. A chance encounter in Central Park lead everybody's favorite puggie, the pug-tastic Boris, to audition for David letterman's Stupid Pets Tricks. If you are able to comment there, please do so on my behalf.
3. Email Lee from New Zealand - what is your current email address? Mail sent to the one that comes up when you comment comes back as "undeliverable". I am trying not to project too far into the future, but a certain young female relative who is currently living in her childhood bedroom and studying for a master's degree in Sensory Food Science at Rutgers has started talking about the advanced food science industry in New Zealand and wondering what it would be to live there. We need to talk.
Happy. I cannot tell you how overwhelmingly pleased I am with my Noreve case for my Blackberry.
It fits perfectly, doesn't interfere with key function, is butter soft and is very, very blue. It also puts the BB into sleep mode when the cover is closed, which prevents all the random autodialing its been doing when I throw it into the bottom of my purse.
Sad. One of the pleasures about driving along the PA Turnlike is the charming greystone buildings at the rest stops.
There are somewhat marred with illuminated Burger King signs and ads for state lottery tickets. Look how sad this boarded-up one looks. Can't imagine why it's been shuttered, but I'll take the tacky BK signs over this any day.
1. Jersey Girl. I pulled into the first turnpike rest stop over the Pennsylvania border and saw a guinea hen enjoying herself in the parking lot. She was patrolling the same two or three parking spaces, stopping to peck the asphalt here and there. Then a trio of Jersey girls spotted it and started shrieking with happiness. It was quiet for a while as they tried to entice it nearer to them by kneeling down and taping the ground and when that move failed, they resumed shrieking and chased it around for a while.
Later, I saw 4 boys in school uniforms engaged in a high-speed foot chase of the bird. As I was pulling out, the poor thing flew straight up like a helicopter in an attempt to escape. When it was all over, she went back to her pecking.
2. Get rid of your chickens now. Which is the happiest of all the available happy pills that modern pharmacology has to offer? That's the one I want to start taking because my current work with pandemic preparation is mighty depressing. Don't waste your time debating about universal health care because when this hits, there's not going to be enough vaccine, antivirals, hospital beds, health care workers or undertakers to handle the victims. And by victims, I mean you and me.
I was formerly happy in my innocence awaiting the day that human-to-human tansmission of H5N1 occured. Now I know better - let me share it with you: do you know what reassortment is?
Definition: Reassortment of viruses means that viruses of different types exchange genetic material resulting in a genetically different virus. In the case of bird flu, the fear is that a person could be infected with two virues at the same time (co-infected), a virulent bird flu virus and a common human flu virus resulting in the exchange of genetic information between the two. The exchange of genetic material could result in a deadly virus that is as easily transmissible from one person to another as the common seasonal flu viruses.
And that's how we're going down. Don't even get me started about viral mutation.
Is this Pope John Paul II waving from beyond the grave? Vatican TV director says yes. Oh, that wacky Vatican. Next thing you know, we'll be seeing Bathtub Marys flying through the skies.
1. Smoother Skies Ahead for Frustrated Travelers - but higher airfares and less-frequent flights are the trade-offs for a decline in delays. Really, I think I have a shot at a career as a visionary. This is exactly what I've been predicting. I can only hope that the resulting consequence that I foresaw comes true as well: that this move will cut down on the hoards of people traveling with squawking babies and maniac toddlers. Please God. My next prediction is that the airlines will cry poverty and abandon frequent flier programs as too expensive to continue. In that case, everyone will abandon their regular airlines and head straight for Virgin America.
2. Luxury Takes To The Skies in Singapore A380. Superjumbo! I knew it was the biggest commercial airplane - I didn't know it was the most luxurious. First class is replaced by cabin class: separate seat and bed - replete with designer quilt. Very good for rap stars and their shorties, or -in the event that Singapore runs into a rap star shortage - CEOs and Saudi princes.
3. Airline Meals.net Takes The Guesswork Out of In-Flight Food Service Unless you are going international, you don't need to know too much about airline food, if there is any food at all. Continental is one of the few left that still serves a hot meal. Most often its a twee little roll with turkey on it, a small bag of Fritos corn chips and a mini Twix bar. The reduced profit from those fewer flights mentioned in the first item here will knock out even this. for posterity, I record here the bet airplane meal I ever had: Continental Newark to Los Angels March 2007:
That was one of the choices - there was a printed menu on heavy card stock from which we chose our preferred meal and recommended wines.
I'm making myself sick because I won't make Platinum Elite this year and my first-class presence will be sharply reduced next year, so I doubt that I'll ever have a meal like that again but for that one time, it was a humdinger.
UPDATE: Well, put me in a bathtub and call me Mary - check out the sleeping pods.
Today is Blog Action Day, a not-for-profit activity with 9 corporate sponsors. The onus has been placed on the blogworld to focus on the environment. Ok, here are my suggestions for conservation:
1. Turn off the neon and the water fountains in las Vegas.
2. Implement a true mass transit in California's major population centers.
3. Hide the keys to Al Gore's private jet.
4. Place a condensation collector over Hillary's head to capture the steam that's rising about all the talk that Al Gore will enter the presidential race.
I'm having a hell of a day here. I'm home alone and there's no avoiding myself. It's a confrontation between the me that I used to be and the me that I'm going to be, moderated by the me I am right now.
That's right - I'm cleaning out my closet.
This is not your seasonal reorganization - no, this time it's a major overhaul. Now I've done this before and got down to what I thought was the bare bones of it before, but this time, it's more reality-based. Something like being slapped in the face with a dead fish.
So far, I have three major piles: 1. get this out of my house, 2. fold and store and 3. hang neatly in order.
This is a depressing exercise so many reasons. Some of the things that are going out still have tags on them - poor choices from the Day 1. Some almost fit and some are work-related things with the old department logo all over them. All ghosts, all have to go.
MONDAY MORNING UPDATE: I produced five Hefty Kitchen bags of clothing to get rid of, plus one large cardboard one box of assorted hangars, shoe boxes, hang tags, etc. I also have 2 piles of logoed shirts and dressy blouses that are never worn anymore but too good to get rid of. I know - that breaks the spirit of the clean out, but I'll put them into space bags and they won't take up much room. I'll still have them but they'll be out of the way, instead of hanging in my closet like they were before. Tomorrow: the drawers.
I have enough self-awareness to recognize that this is less than interesting to blog readers, but I document it here so that in the future, I will be able to look back and say that once I actually accomplished something, closet-wise.
My habit is to go barefoot as much as possible. I am undeterred by a history of a broken pinky toe and a stomped upon third toe. But the weather is turning here now - when I landed in Nashville on Monday it was 93 steamy degrees and when I got back to NJ on Friday night, it was 54.
It's the beginning of house slipper season. One year, I stuck my foot into a slipper that a spider was living in and the consequences were unpleasant so now I obsessively inspect them.
So there we have it: step one in my personal winterizing process. Today, the slipper check; tomorrow the cabbage soup.
POSTSCRIPT: My son lives in California, Sami is gone out to visit him, my daughter is away on a weekend trip and my dog is dead. I am lonely.
1. The ground delay in Nashville yesterday allowed me to spend time getting to know someone who just joined the team and guess what? She's a pocketbook enthusiast who was carrying a reversible Birghton bag with silver metallic trim and matching cellphone holder. I took the opportunity to proselytize for the Purse Bright, which I should have been carrying myself because I was using a black bag. At various times during this trip, I couldn't find:
even though it was all in there in the inky darkness.
2. My leather case for the BB came while I was away. I succumbed to the lure of the perfect color and ordered the tobacco-colored Beyza. In person, it is to puke for. I'm sending it back.
3. The Number 1 laptop case in use in America's airports is the standard issue black nylon that comes with Dell equipment, just like mine. My experience with purchasing the "perfect' laptop carrier has been woefully disappointing so I'm sticking with this, which is good enough. However, I do have a fear of someone picking up mine by mistake, even though I have a company luggage tag hanging off the side of it. You can't see that when the cases are set into the overhead bins - all you see is the black blackness of the cases and the handles.
I was thinking that a nice handle wrap would be just the thing and I found an immensely appealing one made of a lovely brocade. It stands out in the sea of neon green rubber ones that are flooding the internet, However it just screams woman traveler, and you know what happens to them when the Overhead Bin Pigs show up. So I don't know. Maybe for now, I'll just concentrate on finding the right sticker (bumper or otherwise) for my laptop lid. My previous laptop had an In-N-Out Burger sticker on it, but it curled up and died when I tired to move it to the new one. This one is amusing but I suppose it would be wrong in heathcare business setting:
Overheard on flight CO2567: Newark Airport:
"You can always tell if the pilots are Air Force or if they're Navy. The Air Force guys touch down like a baby's kiss - soft and with more than one point of contact. The navy guys hit the ground and screech to an immediate halt."
High winds in Newark today caused ground delays of exactly 55 minutes for all departing flights headed there. Oddly, that is the exact time that the FAA Flight Delay website predicted it would be due to heavy air traffic conditions, aka Friday night. Although they really were using only one runway tonight which led to two interesting phenomena:
1 - After landing, the pilot (Navy) went tearing sideways across the runways to get to the terminal. I've never been in a plane that was booking so fast on the ground,. I guess the command was to get down and get the heck out of the way.We were, at one point, very very close to the strip where the next plane was taking off by which I mean we almost got a free shave.
2 - The planes were headed for that single runway pretty much parallel to the parkway. As the cab was driving me home, we got to watch the bright lights on the planes coming in one right after the other. I guess they know what they're doing, those air traffic controllers, but to me it looked like asking for trouble to have them so close together.
Look what it's come down to - what a boring blogger I am.
How's this: I just made the ringtone for Sami's calls to me play "Walk Like an Egyptian". Oh way oh.
Anyway, I'm home and I'm staying here for a while.
Pandemic influenza takes a back seat this week while I spend some time in Nashville to mull over internal sources of infectious threats.
"Have you ever had an irresistible craving for sugar or candy? A sweet-tooth, if you will? Have you ever just chowed down on a handful of Jelly Bellies or wolfed on half a box of Girl Scout Cookies? Ever just have to eat two bowls of Hagen Daz? And then when you finish you ask yourself - "Yuk, why did I eat that? I feel miserable." Was it really you who was hungry? Was it a need for your body's nutrition that drove you? Hardly. If it were your nutritional needs, something good for you, don't you think it would have been something healthy that you craved? Guess who was directing your craving? Mr. Fungus, that's who."
On the one hand, this new job of mine is not doing much for my peace of mind. On the other hand, if the human body can survive the goings on of normal, healthy life then I think we're all in pretty good shape to fend off extreme insults to our immune systems. Not to worry about the yeast invasion - the control is in our hands. All we have to do is stop feeding it the foods that it loves:
"Cut out sugar, stay away from processed flour and the gluten that is part of it, avoid wheat products and dairy foods, lower protein intake, lower stress and eat foods that yeast doesn't enjoy.Don't be a sucker for sucrose. Dairy is scary. Don't be a glutton with gluten. Chill with "The Pill". Get "anti" with antibiotics. Lose the booze. Try "probiotics". Add good things to your diet (oat bran ). Don't eat the relatives."
And then after you get that all straightened out, we can go back to worrying about predictions of massive death toll from the upcoming H5N1 pandemic.
If I knew how to add tags to a blog post, this is the time I'd do it.
I'm shopping for a leather case for my Blackberry and this is what I want:
For the moment, I shoved it into my old Baggallini cellphone case, so I have the luxury of time to decide. These are the top contenders:
Noreve about $45.00
Why I like it - It's from France - actually, from St. Tropez. Top that for the envy factor. Its made from buttery soft leather, many appealing color options (but no classic tobacco color)
Why I don't like it - it seems like the leather on the sides comes a wee bit close to the keys and I don't want to have to take the thing out of the case to use it. Also, that wee bit of sticker shock takes some getting used to.
Beyza - about $40.00
Why I like it - perfect classic leathery color and stitchmanship. Perfect.
Why I don't like it - That little strip of leather between the keys and the screen looks like it might interfere with trackball usage. Can't remove the stupid belt clip knob. Also, its made in Turkey, a country I do not care to enrich.
Vaja - starts at $60.00
Why I like it - cut away from sides and clear plastic cover for screen - no interference with functionality. Also, total snob appeal. Color designations such as torrone, sabbia and azabache. Handmade by order! No problem with sticker shock here. Once you talk yourself into thinking that $45.00 is reasonable, its a much easier leap to think that $60.00 is no problem. Made in Argentina.
Why I don't like it - has no flip cover for the whole face.
By this post title, I'm hoping to attract others who have an opinion on this topic, specifically High Powered Executive Business Women and/or Accessory Addicts. Most of the BB forums are filled with men and their product assessments don't generally involve purse-specific issues or color preferences.
Opining begins in 3 ... 2 ... 1 ....
Blog topics that have potential, if only they belonged to a more ambitious person:
1. What's the health police buzz on pumpkin pie this year? Is pumpkin pie good for you or bad for you? I like pumpkin pie.
2. I met a native of Idaho this week who does not know how close her escape was - any mention of the word usually prompts a discussion of an opera production in Mr Roger's neighborhood, circa 1980s. I can't recall the lot - something about a cow becoming infatuated by a potato bug - but oh, that love song! - You're my potato bug, potato bug" sung in a dreamy manner, and a reference to an Idaho potato-ho.
3. Also, the small talk about weather produced this astonishing statement by the Idahoan: "Boise is in the Banana Belt." I had visions of bananas replacing potatoes - Mr Rogers didn't have what it takes to convey bovine longing for a banana. When I repeated that statement later on, it was confirmed. Boise is in the Banana Belt. Who knew? I felt the fool.
4. the Song of Hiawatha. This is a seriously beautiful thing. I wish that someone somewhere in my youth had tried to explain to me what an epicslashallegory the whole thing was, instead of allowing us to go around like jerks mechanically spewing 6 lines over and over in singsong. My favorite part, or maybe the part where the light bulb went on for me - is Hiawatha's Fasting. I won't try to explain it because I cannot do it justice, but you would have thought I would have gotten it from all the references to famine, or when after several cycles of struggle between the Indian and "a youth robed in green and yellow, and his hair was soft and golden", Hiawatha overcomes the other and is commanded to:
I can hardly go on - I didn't get it until:
Till at length a small green feather
From the earth shot slowly upward,Then another and another,
And before the Summer ended Stood the maize in all its beauty,
5. Banquet meal choices that are preselected and come as a ticket included in a registration packet. The tickets are placed in the plastic pocket that holds a name tag and one flip of that pocket reveals something like "Hello My Name is Chicken". That's not endlessly amusing, but it is amusing enough to miss what someone is saying to you.
6. This never happened to me before, but I find myself longing for a white Cadillac with a white leather interior. i don't know what I'd do with it if I got one, so I guess its a good thing that I can't afford it. I still want it.
7. I'm trying not to think about it at all but I feel that I must bring up the subject of H5N1. You know I'm not an alarmist by nature, but its going to be very bad. Don't ask me how I know. I'm just saying gather ye rosebuds while ye may. Or, to quote Johnny Cash: "My name is Sue. How do you do? Now you're gonna die." I'm just sayin'.
During the banquet dinner at my business meeting, we were told that each table had to come up with a cheer or a toast on the spot to show enthusiasm for Continuous Quality Improvement. My table was mumbling around and couldn't even commit to two consecutive lines. I borrowed a pen from the waiter and scribbled this on the back of my name card:
We came from Jersey - that's up north
To do CQI for all that we're worth
When we get in the grove
To make [company] the best place on orth.
which you have to admit is beautiful. Not only did my table mates reject that, but they rolled their eyeballs while doing so, an unnecessary social gesture.People have no whimsy these days.
At 11am today , I'll enter Newark Liberty airport and start a three day business trip. I'm going to Orlando for a meeting at the big fancy hotel that is right inside the airport terminal there. I'm lodging at that same hotel and I'll have all my meals catered from the hotel kitchen or in the hotel restaurant.
On Thursday evening, I'll get back on a plane and land in Newark about 10 pm. Shortly thereafter, I will draw my first breath of non-recirculated air in 59 hours. That air will be redolent with the piss stank of Newark bums and ignorant, jock-like business men who couldn't wait in line for a proper restroom.
I can't begin to tell you how bad I feel about my abandonment of The Soup.
It's soup season now - who needs a calendar to know that? I can tell that things are heating up by the number of hits, the volume of comments in my mailbox and the requests for guidance about ingredients. I love soup, I still eat soup as often as I can, I'm making soup, but I cant' write about it yet.
The Soup Lady has to be funny and my dear readers, I've had a hell of a year where the funny was beaten right out of me. It's not back yet. Without funny, the Soup Lady comes off as mean and that would never do.
I made the Ham and Tomato last week.
Discuss among yourselves.