Shipwrecked & Comatose

How Is This for the Ultimate White Whine?

2012-01-25T10:13:00.000-08:00

Kevin and I bought a new TV this past weekend. We upgraded from an old tube model to a much bigger flat screen with a few whizbangs and gizmos.

Our old TV was twenty years old. Let me me point out that it worked fine. Over the years we have watched it regularly and it never failed us. That TV served us faithfully for more than a decade.

So why get rid of it? Why would we throw out a perfectly functional television set? (Unless we can find someone to give it a home, we plan to take it down to the electronics recycling center.)

Why? You'll just love this reason.

(Wait for it)

We're getting rid of it because...

(You're really gonna love this)

I bought some new Kinect games recently and the resolution on the old TV was terrible. I couldn't read the onscreen instructions for the games. It made playing correctly almost impossible. We needed a good HDTV flat screen so we could see what we were doing while playing with the Kinect.

First World Problem!

How Not to Call in Personal Time

2012-01-24T09:10:00.000-08:00

I had one of my typical bouts of insomnia last night. I'm not sure what time I woke up this morning, but I know sometime around 4:45 I decided to pack it in and just stay awake until it was time to go to the gym. I knew I wasn't going to sleep any more.

When it was close to the time the gym opens, I began to don my sneakers and get out the door. As I sat on the couch tying my laces, a terrible feeling of sleepiness came over me. Of course I felt as if I could sleep as soon as I was about to just start my day. I was sitting there on the couch trying to motivate myself to stand up and walk out the door, but all I wanted to do was lie back down and sleep.

I considered going back to bed. I thought I could sleep for another hour or two then I could hit the gym when I truly had the energy. I could just call in late and take a couple of hours of personal time. After all, with only a few months left of employment, my personal time is truly a use-it-or-lose-it proposition.

Although I ended up dragging my tired butt to the gym at 5:30 and starting my day as planned, I wondered if I would have been so bold as to call in late and tell my boss why. Would I be able to say to him, "Sorry Nathan. I am not coming in until 10 because I really need an extra hour or two of sleep thanks to an ongoing insommia issue."

I know I wouldn't have been able to do that. I would have come up with some kind of standard excuse like I had car trouble or I had to take a family member to a doctor appointment or something. I would never have said I was taking the morning off to sleep.

I ask myself why not. Why would I be embarassed about such a thing?

It's a funny thing about sleep. Every health expert out there will tell you that a regular good night's sleep is essential for good health. I'm constantly reading studies about how Americans are mostly sleep deprived. Getting a good night's sleep seems to be as an important a health measure as visiting your doctor or dentist, or working out, but it isn't.

Is it just me thinking this, or does our culture have a stigma against sleep? We see staying up all night, whether for work or for play, as some kind of badge of honor. If you worked until midnight trying to finish a project, you're seen as a hard worker whose priorities are in the right place. If you partied until the sun came up then you're the coolest person on the planet.

If you smoke or eat at McDonalds three times a day people might accuse you of being reckless with your health. No one accuses you of being reckless with your health if you're only getting four hours of sleep every night. In fact, if you are getting four hours of sleep every night and then waking up to go work out at 5AM, you're considered supremely healthy. On the other hand, if you sleep during the daytime, even if you are naturally a night owl, you're seen as lazy. If you fall asleep early, you're seen as boring.

I'm naturally a day person. I fall asleep early and if I don't have insomnia attacks, naturally wake up as soon as the sun is up. This pattern is disturbed all too often as I tend to wake up sometime between 1AM and 4AM many nights and don't always fall back to sleep for very long. Is it wrong to want to make up for some of that sometimes? Wouldn't it be better for me to nap for an hour or two in my own bed than fall asleep at an important meeting - or worse yet at the wheel?

Where did this anti-sleep attitude come from? I guess it must come from childhood. When we're kids, staying up late is the ultimate privilege. We want to know what it is the grownups do after dark. I remember sitting around with my friends as a child and bragging about who had the latest bedtime.

That attitude continues in college. For the first time in our lives no one is telling us when to go to bed, so we take full advantage. We party all night. We make up for the time we wasted partying by studying all night. Who falls asleep early and wakes up early in college? You must be a huge geek and a terrible student to boot. You're not studying or partying hard enough if you're not doing it all night.

It felt wrong and unproductive, so I didn't go back to sleep this morning. I'm sure it would have been better for my health and well-being if I did (and I would have had a more energetic workout too). If I ever find myself willing to go back to sleep, I doubt I will admit it to my boss. My car will just likely not start that morning.

Devolving!

2012-01-13T10:17:00.000-08:00

When I was growing up I spent a lot of time in church and Bible study and Bible camp. As very young kids, my fellow students and I never questioned openly things we were taught.

(You can pick your jaws up off the floor now.)

I grew older. I went to school and learned about science and history and how the world works. I learned about the origins of life itself. Like many others who were taught never to question their spiritual leaders, I felt a sense of cognitive dissonance. I understood that science is about those things that are tested and have hard evidence. Unfortunately it tended to be in conflict with what I learned in church.

The funny thing is that once I, along with other students feeling the same conflicts, actually spoke up and asked religious leaders how to reconcile these two ideas, they were very willing to do so. I heard all sorts of comforting and semi-rational explanations: God works mysteriously and maybe some things we aren’t meant to worry about; God’s time is not our time and 7 days to us might mean something completely different to God; Biblical creation stories could indeed be symbolic rather than literal. After all, Jesus spoke in parables.

I never had it in my head, nor knew anyone else who had the idea, that being a Christian required you to believe every word of Genesis as literal truth. I received that kind of reassurance from some pretty devout Christians and Catholics*. A liter was saved for the extremists – the snake handlers and tent revivalists.

Despite the acceptance of science, I noticed people treading lightly around the topic. I wondered why they were necessary, but they were always there.

For example I remember in tenth grade biology when we were about to start the chapter on genetics and evolution, the teacher said he was going to tell the class exactly what the priests in his Catholic school told him when they were about to teach the same subject: “It’s all true.” A Catholic priest can embrace two truths, so should a good student who might question how his faith holds up against science.

Years later I took a class in college called Genetics Evolution and Man. On the first day of class the Professor gave the class a disclaimer, saying that he considered himself a Christian and he was not teaching the class to mock anyone’s faith. He even read a piece with different postulations about the origins of life from the most atheistic viewpoint to the most religious. I wondered why science teachers should have to give a religious disclaimer to teach their subjects. It seemed silly.

Those disclaimers were nothing compared to what I see now.

Evolution has become a campaign issue. State governments are trying to force science teachers to teach creationism (and from what I understand, just one creation story).

How did our society go so backwards? I feel as if I’m living in the Scopes trial. This isn’t just about a bunch of backwoods extremist anymore. Intelligent, rational, college-educated** folks not only believe, but also want to force onto others the belief that:

• Geologists are way off about the age of the earth, and all the features we see are caused by Noah's flood.

• Paleontologists are wrong about how old the fossils are.

• Anthropologists are wrong about how old fossils are, and the cultures they study are demonic.

• Astronomers are way off about how old the cosmos are, and the "Big Bang" theory is crap.

• Biologists are wrong about evolution and genetics.

• Archaeologists are wrong when they find relics that don't line up with the Bible, and they're way off about how old a lot of this stuff is.

• Climatologists are wrong about climate change and paleoclimatology.

People completely unqualified to talk about science are trying to tell the rest of us who are unqualified to talk about science, that those who devote their lives to research and study and experimentation have no idea what they’re talking about.

The comeback is always that the creation story is in the Bible. The Bible is the only truth, incompatible with other truth, and that all beliefs must be dictated from the Bible.

So it’s the only truth because it’s in the Bible. Let’s take a look at the Bible for a minute.

The books of the Old Testament are thousands of years old. They were given to a culture of desert nomads trying to survive in a harsh world.

Slavery is a topic you’ll find in the Bible. I was having a discussion about this on an internet forum recently. If you believe in the literal interpretation of the Bible, what’s your stance on slavery? After all, it was once a justification for slavery in the U.S. One participant in the discussion said that slavery has existed throughout the world in all cultures and was quite common at that time, so obviously the Bible will mention in. Yes, it was common at that time. In this day and age we find slavery morally repugnant. As the joke goes, we can’t own a Canadian. Slavery doesn’t apply to our culture now, does it?

Then there are the kosher rules. This one is often thrown in the face of fundamentalists as some form of hypocrisy (“Homosexuality is wrong, but shrimp aren’t?”) and there are some fundies out there who have decided to be more “Torah observant” to avoid the hypocrite label.

Rather than do that, let's look at the context of kosher rules.

Clean animals were vertebrates of most kinds except for mammals. Only ruminant mammals were allowed. That makes sense. It’s very easy to keep goats, sheep, and cows in the desert because the sparse, scrub-like vegetation is easily digested by these animals. Rumination allows these animals to eat these inedible plants and derive nutrition from them. Those nutrients are passed on to humans through their meat and milk.

Pigs, on the other hand, are more omnivorous and share a digestive system similar to humans. They would be competitors for edible food. You would have to be a wealthy man if you wanted to indulge the unimaginable luxury of the sweet, rich, fatty meat (*drool* mmmm…pork…wait-was I going somewhere with this?). Kosher laws were a social equalizer in many ways. Just like slavery, they applied to an ancient culture living in the desert but aren’t quite as relevant now.

The Bible said the sun stood still. It always stands still, but the Bible implies it was moving and the earth stands still. Galileo suffered proving that wrong. Does anyone still insist that the sun revolves around the earth?

The Bible said a man shall not lie with another man. It also seems to frown on any non-procreative sex acts. Did anyone ever consider just how hard it was to give birth to and raise healthy children? In that environment you needed to have as many children as possible in order to survive to the next generation. Women died in childbirth. Children died of all kinds of diseases before their fifth birthday. They needed to make babies. Masturbation and homosexuality prevented the act of making more babies.

The Bible says to circumcise male children. There isn’t a lot of water in the desert. It’s harder to keep clean when you have a foreskin. Circumcision makes cleaning easier. Circumcision was a great way to prevent a stinky schmenke.

Maybe God gave His people a set of rules to help them make their living in the desert. Living was tough. People didn’t have time to worry about the origins of the earth. They were too busy trying not to starve. Maybe He understood that they needed a helpful set of rules along with a simple explanation of how things work. He created people with brains and the ability to figure things out for themselves. He gave them reason as well as curiosity.

Humans made it. They thrived. They began to develop art and science. They were able to indulge curiosity and question the universe.

Along came Jesus. At this point the Romans have spread civilization over much of the known world at this point. Mere survival was no longer an issue. So what was Jesus’ message straight from God? Be nice to each other. Practice forgiveness. Be generous. Don’t be judgmental. Really, that’s what He had to say. Jesus didn’t go around saying, “If you don’t believe in the first chapter of Genesis verbatim then you are rejecting God.” He didn’t say anything about that at all. It seems that the New Testament, the books that Christianity are supposed to be based on, says that it’s time to move beyond the Basic Rules for Survival 101 that the Old Testament gave humanity.

Obviously I’m just posing my own silly theories. It’s not as if I’m a believer. I just don’t see how anyone has to believe just one single point in the Bible or else they’re not a good Christian when we’re talking about a centuries-old text containing plenty of information that just isn’t going to apply to believers today.

Why can’t Christians believe that God created the “Big Bang” and set the creation of universe in motion? Did you read Angels and Demons? The Catholic priest/scientist believed the Big Bang happened and all but proved it could not have happened without a creator. What’s wrong with the idea that life sprang from the primordial soup? Scientists can’t tell us how that happened. Why not believe that God put the spark in the soup that caused life to generate? Why not say that the “seven days” corresponded with the geological epochs (something early nineteenth century scientists believed in order to reconcile their religious beliefs)? Why couldn’t God have created life’s ability to evolve into a creature who worshipped him? Why does it have to be all or nothing?

What scares me the most is that the all-or-nothing people are starting to win the battles. Even though these people know so little about science (including the meaning of the word “theory”) they want to make sure that school children are questioning science. It’s not that they are questioning science in favor of other theories with actual evidence. They want to swap science with religion, and not just religion but their form of religion. They want to force their beliefs at school, which is supposed to be a religion-neutral place.

The counter argument is that “you are trying to force your beliefs on us.” Science is not a belief. It’s not a religion. Are you forcing beliefs on someone when you teach him math or history? Why is it forcing beliefs to teach science? Science class doesn’t exist to mock religious beliefs. It exists to report the facts as we learn them. No one is telling you to stop believing what you believe. You are not required to believe it. You are simply required to know it. I can go to history class and never learn that George Washington chopped down the cherry tree, but I can still believe that it happened, even if my teacher tells me there is no proof of that fact.

I don’t like how this attitude of religious entitlement is seeping into society. What happens if they have their way in schools? So Christianity is now being taught in schools as science. What other ways will schools now have to kowtow to one religion? Will it expand beyond schools? In the 90s the religious right infiltrated the government by starting at school boards and working their way to up to local governments and beyond. Will we start having more local blue laws? Will women have to start wearing skirts below the knee every day in certain cities? How far will it expand? Alarmists talk of a “Christian Taliban” which seems rather ridiculous, but as long religion tries to worm its way into secular institutions, that fear will never go away.

Thanks goodness there are a few voices of reason who are willing to say that science and religion can be compatible. Let’s hope their voices continue to be heard.
Let’s keep science in the classroom and religion at home. If going to a science class shakes your faith that much, then your faith probably wasn’t all that strong to begin with!

*Yes, I know Catholics are Christians too, but I was referring to folks who identify as “saved” rather than anyone who practices a Jesus-centered religion.

**Then again, Sarah Palin and Glen Beck are hardly intelligent and rational and their college education is suspect.

The Annual Christmas Post

2011-12-19T14:32:00.000-08:00

It seems every year I have to make some kind of post about Christmas and this year will be no exception.

I'm finished with blogs full of outrage about the War on Christmas crap. For one thing, there seems to be some kind of stalemate in the war this year. I still see a vocal minority claiming outrage at the phrase "Happy Holidays". I also see plenty of online requests that we all must keep Christ in Christmas or not celebrate at all. Those voices just seem much quieter this year.

I like to think the louder voices have become the voices of reason. If others can't be offended or feel excluded by Merry Christmas, then you have no right to be offended by Happy Holidays. A winter holiday existed long before Jesus and you can't stop people from celebrating the season as they wish.

It even seems that the push to shove Christmas down everyone's throats as soon as possible has been mitigated as well. As I mentioned in another post, businesses are waiting to decorate. Families are taking time to enjoy Thanksgiving first. I am even noticing that there is very little Christmas music on the radio. I suppose some may see this as a War on Christmas, but I see it as simply being reasonable. Don't rush the holiday. Let's just celebrate Christmas as it comes.

I digress though. That's not really what I meant for this post to be about. Rather than talk about how we celebrate Christmas today, I wanted to share one of my nutty Christmas memories.

This post is about that venerable and beloved Christmas carol, Silent Night.

Silent Night was probably the first serious Christmas carol I ever learned as a child. It is the first one I remember learning anyway. It's a good song for children because it's short, simple and soothing. (Who doesn't like the idea of their children singing about "sleeping in Heavenly peace"?) Even though I didn't dislike the song, and sang it willingly in music class and church, I had a serious problem with it. I really had a problem with the lyrics.

What the heck was a roundyon virgin?

I understood all of the song except for that bit about the roundyon virgin. What did roundyon mean? Even though I didn't know what the word virgin meant, I still knew it was referring to the Virgin Mary. I just assumed when I was really little that "Virgin" was some kind of honorary holy title (and I suppose in the Catholic Church, it is). But what was roundyon?

I was really curious. Was I hearing it wrong? Was I just ignorant. I was afraid to ask anyone because I knew I would end up laughed at or patronized. (Ah the joys of having an older brother!)

I grew older and more literate and saw the lyrics written out. It wasn't roundyon virgin. It was round yon virgin. I wasn't hearing the words incorrectly, but I still didn't know what it meant.

I'm not sure just how faithful the standard English translation of Stille Nacht is to the original German, but I do know that you can't translate a song easily word-for-word without having to do some different - and possibly awkward - phrasing or clipping of the words. Learning it as a very young child, I was just mimicking words and not really understanding how the sentences in the song were supposed to flow.

This is how I saw the song:

Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright

This was the nativity weather report.

Round yon virgin mother and child
Holy infant so tender and mild

This is just the acknowledgement of the players in the story. They exist. Hi!

Sleep in heavenly peace.

Good night.

It would take a few years before I realized that music gives on license to write words incorrectly and make awkward sentences that would never pass muster in English class. Sadly, no one pointed out how I should have translated the song.

Silent night, holy night. All is calm, all is bright around yonder virgin mother and child.
Holy infant so tender and mild, sleep in heavenly peace

I suppose if I had asked, someone would have likely explained it to me long before I figured it out for myself. I would have had to have taken some ribbing and probably would have had to deal with people telling funny anecdotes about the roundyon virgin for the rest of my life.

Decades later I confess. I suppose everyone can have at it now.

Danger Danger Danger!

2011-12-17T04:42:00.000-08:00

I have an obsession with Harley Davidson motorcycles. Kevin does too. What can I say? They're beautiful machines. They represent fine automotive craftmanship and they're made in the USA. There is an enormous tradition behind them. Kevin and I have been known to go to dealerships to walk around admiring the bikes and even indulge in some of the related merchandise.

Do you know I have never ridden on a motorcycle and don't want to? I'm really rather afraid to do so.

Do you also know that motorcyclists suffer an injury once every 7000 hours of riding and yet horseback riding has an injury rate of one serious accident once every 350 hours? My choice of hobby is not terribly logical is it?

I suppose that it makes somewhat logical sense that I should be afraid of riding a motorcycle. There is a story behind it .One day in high school I was driving home from school and cut across a side road. There was a motorcycle lying on road and someone was covering a body with a blanket. It's hard to get a picture like that out of your mind.

Even if my motorcycle fear isn't totally baseless, I do find it interesting that humans will perceive so many activities as dangerous while ignoring even worse dangers.

For example, a coworker of mine had just head about a horrific elevator accident in New York City where a woman was crushed to death after an elevator shot up quickly while she was boarding it. Coworker said she wanted to take the stairs for the rest of her life. You never know when something as innocent as an elevator could end your life on a moment's notice.

"Or," I told her, "You could ride the elevator and arrive at the bottom floor safely, which is statistically likely, and then go home in your car and be killed in a crash, which is also statistically likely, and more statistically likely than dying in an elevator.

How many other situations do we perceive as dangerous, while we indulge daily in occupations that are far more dangerous?

Think of the dangers we are perpetually imagining for our children. Parents fear that every adult in the world that they don't know is a threat. Everywhere you go, strangers are out to kidnap and molest your children. They are going to poison your children's Halloween candy just for the enjoyment of killing mass numbers of children in one night. They are going to murder your children for fun.

The most likely person to abduct a child is a non-custodial parent, but children have visits with their non-custodial parents every weekend. The people most likely to molest a child are people they know well such as relatives and family friends, but holidays and celebrations with extended families and friends continue on. The person most likely to kill or beat a child is its mother. How many mothers sometimes feel the need to spend every waking moment with their children?

We pack up our kids in giant vehicles and drive them everywhere because we are afraid of the people on the street. Yet the car is exactly the place where our children are most likely to be maimed or killed. Statistically speaking, the suburban assault vehicle has the highest death rates for children, while the safest cars have proven to be mid-size to large import cars (and let me emphasize the word cars in that sentence). How many adults have that "bigger is better" mentality?

Isn't it funny how we are always terrified of whatever bacterial infection du jour comes around (avian flu, swine flu, SARS, MRSA etc.) when our chances of getting them are really quite small? We say we will do anything to avoid contracting a deadly disease, but we continue to sit on the couch, eat crappy food, refuse to wear sunscreen, smoke cigarettes, drink heavily, and do any number of health habits that are guaranteed to add up and kill us horribly. We can't let our kids eat Halloween candy from "strangers" but we allow them to eat McDonalds, and pizza, and cupcakes to their hearts content. It's too dangerous for kids to play outside, but they're somehow safe sitting on their butts playing video games all day?

If I said that I don't want to walk down my street anymore because there are several second and third level apartments on the street and I don't want to be hit by a falling piano, you would think I was nuts. I argue that's what it seems like our society has come to. Why do we fear unlikely freak accidents and rare diseases while we actively pursue a lifestyle that is guaranteed to kill us unpleasantly? We pass this lifestyle onto our children and send them into an adulthood filled with obesity and Type 2 Diabetes. Just how much damage to we have to do to ourselves before we realize that we have been worrying about the wrong things?

Do yourself a favor. Get some exercise today. Eat breakfast. Eat some food that came from a farm and not a factory. Floss your teeth. Go to bed a little earlier. Go easy on the booze. Get rid of the ciggies. There are no guarantees ever that you won't be hit with that falling piano, but it's amazing how much damage to yourself that you can control.

You're Not Rich. You're Not Special. You're Not the 1% (And OWS is fighting for you!)

2011-11-15T18:15:00.000-08:00

I am amazed at the hostility to OWS by people who were not even directly affected by it (say by having to fight the crowds to walk to work in the morning). What do you think these people are protesting? I suppose you don't know, because the media are telling you the message is garbled and unfocused sounding. No, these were not all lazy unemployed hippies, socialists, students, or terrorists. They were Americans, just like you, who understand that things have become so rigged in this country that only a handful of citizens are benefitting. We have returned to the Gilded Age - the age of the Robber Baron - and if you are fuzzy about history, the Gilded Age ended with the Great Depression.

How is it that so many Americans have been convinced to vote against their own interests? Why are we so convinced that reasonable regulations, ones that have been in place for decades and still allowed people to become very rich, are somehow tantamount to Soviet Russia? Why are we so convinced that every tax dollar we pay is somehow going into the hands of the undeserving? Why do we think that the very people who are going out of their way to eliminate their work forces in the US "job creators"?

It's because the government tells us it's so. It is because the media tell us so. The government has been bought by the biggest corporations in the country. The media have been bought by the biggest corporations in this country. We have only a handful of companies controlling our message and they're not serving the people anymore. The Fourth Estate is gone.

This is the Great Myth of The American Taxpayer. The middle class, the hardest workers, the most deserving people, are being over taxed. Every tax dollar they pay is going straight into the hands of lazy people who don't want to work. It's going into the hands of illegal immigrants. It's going to fund immoral programs. Taxes are an evil entity that do nothing but reward laziness.

I won't argue that the middle class is overtaxed, but I will argue that it's not because it's there to hand out money to the undeserving. The middle class (and upper middle class and lower upper class) are being over taxed in order to make sure the most powerful people in the country never have to pay a dime. The middle class isn't just supporting the poor. They're supporting the infrastructure, the military, the local services, and the schools. They're supporting all of the services that every one of us is likely to use or need at some point in our lives. They're supporting many of the same services that the upper classes will need and use, but won't pay for.

"But I work hard for my money," you whine. Many Americans work hard for their money. We have this belief in this country that if you work hard, you are automatically rewarded. It's the whole Protestant Work Ethic myth. God rewards hard work, so if you are rich, you are blessed and holy. Yet there are people who are working hard - really hard - probably harder than any corporate fat cat - at multiple jobs - and still need social services. What is wrong with this picture?

So you work hard and don't think you should be taxed too heavily, but you think that burden shouldn't go to the wealthiest. After all, you're wealthy, right? You are successful. You have your McMansion and your fancy suburban assault vehicle. You take nice vacations and dine out often. You have made it. You worked hard and you deserve it and no one is going to make you pay a penny more than you should. To say that the rich need to pay their taxes means that you will have what you deserve taken away from you.

I'm here to say, no it doesn't.

Are you a succesful skilled trained professional, such as a doctor, lawyer, or tradesman? You're not the 1%

Do you own a successful small business like a well-known retail store (but not a retail chain giant), an ad agency, an independent real estate agency, an investment advisory firm, a contracting business? You're not the 1%

Are you a successful member of middle management or a top sales person or broker at a Fortune 500 company? You're still not the 1%

Are you a bankable Hollywood movie actor or star athlete? Believe it or not, you're not the 1% - even if you are an elitist liberal.

If you are or were a member of the military, you are definitely not the 1%.

Unless you are sitting on the board of directors of a major investment bank, an agribusiness, a defense contractor, a pharmaceutical company,an energy company, or a similar huge corporation, you are most likely not the 1%.

You see, "being rich" isn't the same as being so wealthy that you can buy off the government and the media and be excused from any sort of responsibility of citizenship. If you're not quite that wealthy, then you should be just as angry as the protestors out on the occupations, because those at the very top are just as repsonsible for the mess the country is in as the lowliest among us. Why do you want to put the blame and the burden on the shoulders of the Americans who can least afford to bear it? Why not put it where it rightly belongs? Put a chunk of it on the backs of those who grow fat off the benefits of living in the US, but won't pay into the system that supports them, or pay the workers who make their business so successful.

Once upon a time we had reasonable regulations and a more equitable tax structure and you know what happened? People who deserved to be wealthy still became wealthy. There has never been equitable income distribution for the sake of equitable income distribution in this country and there never will be. We did have regulations and taxes at the top though. That doesn't mean that prosperity is impossible under a tax system that removes some of the burdens on the people at the bottom. Since World War II, plenty of Americans have become very wealthy and stayed that way. That being said, none of us in the 99% really knows what a job loss or an accident or an illness or a lawsuit could do to us until it happens to us. Any one of us has earned benefits and we are all entitled to them.

I know that what I say won't make a lick of difference in how people feel. Even my more liberal friends have been sucked into believing that the protests are pointless and bothersome. I'm glad there are citizens out there who are fighting for all of us. I hope one day everyone will realize that they truly are fighting for all of us.

Is It Too Early, and What Is It Too Early For?

2011-11-09T12:23:00.000-08:00

For those who celebrate Christmas and related holidays, this time of year can be quite exciting or it can be quite annoying.

Halloween was just a week ago and Thanksgiving won't be here for two more weeks, but Christmas is already on the brain for many. Christmas trees, lights, and assorted decorations are creeping into the displays of many stores. Radio stations pepper their playlists with Christmas songs.

Some folks love to start the Christmas season early. They buy fake trees just so they can put one up as early as possible. They deliberately listen to Christmas music. They are planning their parties and their menus while they put out their Halloween candy.

Others can't stand the early hype. The believe Christmas needs to come in its own time. Enjoy Halloween. Enjoy Thanksgiving. Don't feel pressured to decorate, shop, and feel any sort of "Christmas Spirit" when there is over a month to go.

Lately it seems that the voices of reason are growing louder. Maybe it's just the anti-early-Christmas voices are growing louder on Facebook. I don't know. I do know that Nordstrom has decided not to decorate for Christmas until after Thanksgiving. I don't know what other stores are following suit, but I'm definitely curious. I'm beginning to feel that there is finally a backlash against rushing the season in full force.

I have always been against starting the season early. There are so many other occasions to think about this time of year. Fall can be a busy time. Even though I don't really involve myself much in Halloween, I know I will still have to be prepared for some Halloween-related activities. Then there is Thanksgiving to consider. If I'm making any or all of the dinner, my mind is way too obsessed with food to worry about Christmas. Even this year and last year when I am not cooking anything at all but heading to Chicago to have Thanksgiving in a restaurant with Kevin's family, I am still using this time to anticipate a fun vacation. I know Christmas will arrive eventually. When it does, I will be ready for it in full Christmas mode with my brain cleared of other holidays or activities.

"But wait a minute, Rachel!" you exclaim. "How can you say early celebrations are wrong, but you constantly preach the virtues of shopping early?"

Does shopping early lump me in the same category as putting up decorations on November 1st? I suppose it might.

My rationale for shopping early has always been that I like to get it out of the way because it helps me enjoy the holiday more. Come December, when I feel it's right to start getting into the spirit of the season, I don't like having my gift list hanging over my head. I like to enjoy the season, the parties, the music, the kitsch. It's never quite the same when I have in the back of my mind, "I need to get a gift for X." That's why I will start thinking about Christmas as early as September, often shopping in October (I bought a few gifts in Italy this year for example), with the goal of having it all finished by the time November ends. I want to say, "Bring it on!" when December comes. Then I start enjoying the festivities and planning

Why do stores start decorating for Christmas as soon as they can? It's simple. Christmas is a big spending holiday. They want customers to start thinking of Christmas shopping as soon as possible. If Christmas is on the customers' minds, they are more likely to start thinking about shopping for gifts. If the decorations are in your store first, they may start spending their money in your store first.

In my case, the decorations are pretty meaningless. I will start shopping even before the Halloween decorations come down if the time and the situation are right. Christmas decorations have no effect on my spending habits. How is it that I can be so obsessed with Christmas shopping, but not want to see decorations or be reminded of Christmas before the fall holidays are out of the way?

I guess the answer is that I considering shopping to be a chore. It's not an unpleasant chore, but it's a chore, an item on the to-do list, all the same. It's the kind of chore I can break up into manageable bits. I can make lists here and there. I can shop for an hour online one day and take a half a day to hit the stores another, but I do have to plan for it. Enjoying decorations and carols isn't a chore. It's a pleasure, but I feel it's a pleasure that needs to be celebrated in its own time and with a clear head.

This season I am asking myself, "Am I unusual?* Am I the only person who says, "Stop decorating for Christmas when the kids are still out trick-or-treating," while manically creating my Christmas lists and taking whatever shopping days I can to pick out gifts for people? The one point I have proved is that decorations have no effect on my spending habits, but is that the same for everyone?

People who wait until the last minute to do their shopping clearly aren't influenced by decorations. Although "Black Friday" is said to be a busy shopping holiday, the busiest Christmas shopping day of the year is the Saturday before Christmas. At that point, the decorations have been up for almost two months in many stores. I remember in college dealing with massive crowds at the mall when I had to cram most of my Christmas shopping in just two or three days before Christmas (there weren't many shopping opportunities when I was away at school with no car, and that's why I didn't shop early during that time).

Some people who shop at the last minute do so because they hate to shop. Some wait till the last minute because they are just really busy and keep putting it off. There are even some people who wait until the last minute because they enjoy shopping under pressure. It makes shopping more exciting. Regardless of why one shops at the last minute, it certainly goes to show you that a segment of the population isn't responding to Christmas decorations on display in November. I would imagine that late shoppers probably feel that pressure from the fesitivies even more keenly than I do and are probably even more annoyed by it.

Extending the celebration into October and November would turn a profit from only one type of shopper. It would be the shopper who both loves to start celebrating Christmas early and who also likes to shop early. How many Christmas revelers who start the festivities before Thanksgiving actually do their shopping early? If you're listening to Christmas carols right now, are you also making your lists and checking them twice? Do you already have gifts crossed off it?

I'm sure there are early Christmas lovers who don't buy gifts at all - or limit their gifts to just the children in the family. Imagine filling every moment from November 1 - January 1 with Christmas decorations and music galore, savoring every public display, decorating your home to the hilt, listening to Christmas carols 24/7 and not buying a single gift. I'm sure there are folks out there who do just that. Imagine catering to people who love to celebrate Christmas early and never make a profit out of it.

As of now I have about a quarter of my gifts purchased and half of them planned and not purchased. I have designated a few days in November for shopping. That will happen whether there are decorations or not. I know I won't be putting up a single decoration until December 1.

You Know What? I Think I Hate Fall

2011-10-26T17:30:00.000-07:00

Autumn. It seems to be everyone's favorite season. This time of year seemingly everyone is waxing poetic about the crisp air, the turning leaves, and the supposedly perfect weather.

I am beginning to think I'm being sold a worthless bill of goods.

I'm tired of these autumnal worship sessions. I think these constant homages to the perfection of fall are over the top and they tend to forget everything bad about this time of year. Well, I'm here to say that fall isn't all that.

How do I hate fall? Let me count the ways:

It's Cold - "Crisp" air, my spleen!  Celery is crisp. How the heck can air be crisp? It's just a euphamism for "really chilly." Fall makes people talk wistfully of cozy sweaters, warm blankets and fireplaces. Do you ever wonder why you are thinking of those things? It's because it's cold outside!

Sure there might still be days in the 60s and 70s where it's perfect to be outside enjoying the weather, but as the days go on, they become fewer and farther between. The sun starts hiding more behind clouds and the temperatures go down below a point where you don't want to stay outside if you're not going to be active. I'm not going to call it "crisp" and let my love for wool sweaters grow. I'm going to call it cold and I'm not going to like it.

It's Dark - The official start of autumn is after the Autumnal Equinox. On that day, we have equal hours of daylight and darkness. After that day, the dark begins to slowly take over. Days are shorter and shorter.

I'm a day person. I thrive in sunlight and I get tired and grumpy when I'm not getting any. Once Daylight Saving Time* ends, our commutes home from work start happening in total darkness. What fun. Autumn lovers claim they don't care about this because they're so incredibly enamored of that crunchy air, but these same people seem awfully happy when Daylight Saving Time comes around again.

Leaf Peeping - Something about the changing leaves makes families and couples suddenly decide to jump in their cars and drive at least an hour north of wherever it is they live in order to view the leaves on the trees that are likely the same colors as the trees right at home. Try getting a room at a Bed & Breakfast any time in October without booking three months in advance. Somehow people feel this intense need to be "in the country" every time the leaves turn. This causes lots of traffic along the highways that lead to these northerly destinations. Changing leaves are pretty and all that, but they are also a sign of impending decay and death. Don't fall for it (no pun intended).

Apple Picking - I think this who trend of taking your family to pick apples is a conspiracy by the owners of the orchards who realize it's a great way to save money. They don't have to house and pay their ~~slave labor~~ migrant farm workers. They just invite the public to do their own picking for the sake of some kind of authentic country experience - complete with carnival rides - and labor expenses go way down.

Families and couples pile into their cars, fight the leaf-peeping traffic, and head to some overcrowded orchard, parking in a packed lot made from rutted, packed dirt, for that unique day in the country. They call it apple picking, but it will come with all kinds of add-ons because kids are going to become with bored pulling apples out of trees very quickly. So now the farm will give your kids hay rides, corn mazes, and pony rides - for a price.

Since most kids these days don't actually eat fruit anymore, there will be plenty of kettle corn, candy apples (okay, they will eat fruit if it's covered in sugar), pie, cider doughnuts, and hot chocolate. Your expenses don't stop with the food though. After doing a fair amount of backbreaking physical labor (partially fueled by the kids' sugar high), you will spend your not only spend your money on your kids' pony rides, corn maze adventure, hay wagon rides, and various snacks.   You will also want to buy a pile of take-home treats like jars of jam, indian corn and mini gourds to decorate your front door and front hall, a pie or two, some cider doughnuts, and 6 pounds of apples you realize you will never eat (remember, kids don't eat fruit). Your wallet is lighter and some orchard owners are smirking behind your backs.

Pumpkin - Imagine this. This past weekend Kevin and I were staying at a Bed & Breakfast in celebration of his birthday. Like many B&Bs, breakfast always includes some kind of homemade muffin or quick bread. So there I was, sitting down to breakfast seeing a piece of homemade bread on my bread plate. Eagerly I took a bite. AAARRRRGGGHHHH It was PUMPKIN BREAD.

You can't escape it. That mushy, gooshy, bizarre squash known as pumpkin is in everything. I'm a food blogger and a cooking enthusiast. I spend a fair amount of my time reading food blogs, food websites, and food magazines. This time of year I can't escape the onslaught of pumpkin recipes.  There are pumpkin cookies and pumpkin breads and pumpkin soup and pumpkin pasta, and of course, that classic lead weight of a dessert, pumpkin pie.

Cooks act as if they will die if they don't cram as much pumpkin down their gullets as possible before the end of the season. They have to make more pumpkin, pumpkin, pumpkin before the December begins. Yes, pumpkins do have a short season, but you can buy canned pumpkin (which isn't even pumpkin but another type of squash) year round. How many people actually bother roasting actual pumpkins. Most people use canned because pumpkins are a pain to gut and cook and taste even grosser than canned squash. Enough already with the pumpkin cooking. There are other ingredients out there.

Guilt - Halloween (and I suppose Thanksgiving can be tacked on to that) is like Christmas. There is now a build-up to the date. Just like there is a "Christmas Season" you can also say there is a "Halloween/Thanksgiving Season" where everyone is supposed to gleefully anticipate the coming holiday. There is a subtle pressure to participate in the activities mentioned above along with harvest fairs and haunted houses and costume parties. Halloween and related fall decorations have become as prevalent as Christmas decorations as well. Houses are strung with orange lights and dead bodies hang out of car trunks. Even those who don't go the scary route are decorating their homes with cobs of dried corn, pumpkins, and scarecrows.

It all just makes me feel as if I'm missing out on something. I should be out there admiring the leaves or riding in hay wagons or eating apple pie. I should be drinking hot cider wearing a cable knit sweater by the fireplace and attending haunted houses at night. I should be gleefully planning my Halloween costume. It doesn't matter that I spend my October days doing things I enjoy like riding my horses and cooking my husband a nice dinner before tucking myself into bed with a good book. Even though I'm probably have a better time than those people getting squashed by crowds at the local Apple Fest, I still wonder if I should be among them. Am I not enjoying "the season" to the fullest?

If the guilt I don't put on myself isn't enough, there is also the guilt I get from others. Try telling people how much you hate pumpkin. It rarely ever receives a positive reaction. Tell your friends you miss the summer sun and they will look at you as if you asked them for a lightly grilled weasel on a bun with french fries. I don't even want to think about the flame wars this post will raise on the internet. Saying you hate fall is like saying you hate puppies. It makes everyone think there is something wrong with you and you must be a terrible person.

This makes me excited for winter. I hate winter even more than I hate fall, but at least in winter, no one blames me for feeling cranky about it.

*You do know there is only one s in Daylight Saving Time, right? Good. Just checking.

Italian Riding Adventures - Part 3

2011-10-21T14:15:00.000-07:00

Day 6 -

This morning we rode to Pacina Vineyards. This is a totally organic winery that has been a vineyard as far as Etruscan times. The property has also housed both a monastery and a convent. In order for it to be certified organic, they can't do anything with the grapes. Whatever nature does to the vineyards is what nature does to the vineyards. It was a beautiful spot where Siena was visible in the distance.

The make three wines at Pacina. Their Chianti Collo Senese (named for hills of Siena that surround the vineyard) is from their oldest vines. These are deeply rooted in the soil and the grapes have the most intense flavor. Their Secondo wine is made from the younger vines and the flavor is less intense. Finally they make a syrah as the owner of the vineyard decided to see how syrah grapes did in the dry, clay-like soil or their terroir and found they did quite well.

We had a lovely, leisurely tour of the vineyards and the cellars. They showed us their press room, fermentation room, and aging rooms. There was a blocked-off staircase that led to their original Etruscan cellars.

For some reason in the press room I began to cough uncontrollably. Kevin thought it might be mold, but there was far more mold in the aging rooms than in the press room. It was very strange. I just couldn't be in that room very long.

We enjoyed our picnic lunch among the vines. We had been provided with a bottle of Secondo wine for the picnic and we really enjoyed it. After a leisurely lunch we had a very long ride back to the farm. It was a beautiful day and I was riding Jup again. It was paradise to be galloping such a nice horse through the Tuscan countryside among the grapevines with the sun shining and the Senese hills surrounding us. That will always be on my list of "My Happy Places" when I need to go to my Happy Place.

This was our most grueling ride all week. We had clocked a total of 5.5 hours in the saddle not including the time spent at the vineyard. It had been a good day though. That night we had a bottle of the Pacina Collo Senese with dinner. I didn't like it as much as the Secondo. It had a bit too much oak for my taste.

Day 7+

Today's ride was a short and quiet one. I rode Dakot, a flea-bitten gray gelding who was very large, but had beautiful gaits. I liked him almost as much as Jup. The three preceding days had been quite warm, but the temperatures cooled off again and the wind really kicked up this day. Donatella kept us mostly in the woods where we would be sheltered from the wind. At one point we were walking across an open field and I thought I was going to be blown out of the saddle. Another couple who was staying nearby joined us for the ride. The wife was a rider, but the husband was not. I was very surprised that they put him on Ambrogio. He would have been my last choice for someone who wasn't experience.

We came back to the farm for lunch and tried some of the local pizza. Donatella and Sadio wanted us to see how it compared to the pizza back home. It was pretty good, but it wasn't Sal's.

We had the afternoon to kill. Sadio had encouraged us (and it is listed in the tour description) to visit a nearby hot springs spa. I was game, but I was outvoted. Or, more accurately, no one really asked me what my preferences were. I was a bit grumpy about that. I took a short walk to abandoned farm on the ridge for some closeup pictures.

Kevin wanted a riding lesson, so since I had nothing else to do that afternoon, we took a lesson with Donatella together. I decided to try yet another horse. He was a large black horse named Dardo. Kevin and I were both showing in a horse show on Sunday (crazy of us I know) so Donatella was giving us pointers on our dressage tests. Riding with a new instructor is always humbling. A different instructor can always point out the faults your regular instructor has learned to ignore. After the lesson she joked that an hour in the ring with her is tougher than 5 hours out on the trails.

With the weather being so cold that afternoon there wasn't much to do outside as the sun went down. We had no choice but to go inside and start packing. I hated facing the idea that I had to go home, but that's the reality of vacation. The three of us ate a low-key dinner with Sadio and discussed our departure plans for the next day. I told Sadio I would try not to cry. Then I told him to try not to cry too!

Saturday morning we were up early and did our final packing. I had hoped to give myself a few extra minutes to go out and say goodbye to the horses, but time got away from me a bit. We said goodbye to Donatella, climbed into the car with Sadio, and drove back to the train station to go back the way we came.

Saturday was an endless day. We were flying out of Rome because the flights out of Florence were too early in the morning. We took the train to Florence. Once we were in Florence we had to transfer again to Rome. Our suitcases were huge and heavy, so we were tired of lugging them. Kevin decided we should splurge on a taxi again to take us to the airport instead of taking the shuttle train. This didn't turn out to be such a bad idea. Kevin had never been to Rome before (he wasn't impressed with what he saw) and the taxi ride gave us a bit of a tour of the city. We went right by the Forum and the Coloseum, so it gave us a chance to see the sights. The downside is that the taxi was seriously expensive!

Our flight was delayed a bit, so we were stuck at the crowded airport for a while. Then we boarded and things didn't get much better. This was a nine-hour flight and it was almost entirely a day time flight (taking time changes into account). When you are sitting in an airplane seat for that long you need a lot of entertainment.

There were several movies available to watch during the flight. It's too bad my little TV died two hours into the flight.

I had a book with me. It's just too bad my overhead light stopped working and most passengers closed their window shades so there was very little light on the plane.

The best I could do was just sit and try to sleep. I'll say this much. I slept more on the flight home from Rome than I slept on the flight to Rome.

We finally made it to NY, but I was not in the best mood. I was no longer in Italy and had had a miserable flight. I hoped I would never have to fly Alitalia again! If we want to go back to Tuscany, Delta flys to Pisa...

Once we were home we had to unpack and do laundry. I wasn't in bed till almost midnight. I was glad we had made it home safe and sound, but I knew I would be aching for Italy for a long time.

Being home wasn't all that bad though. That horse show we entered on Sunday? Riddle and I took first place!

Italian Adventures - Part 2

2011-10-19T17:30:00.000-07:00

Day 4 -

This was one of my favorite days. The horse they assigned me this day was Jup, who got a good review from Kevin. She was one of the most rideable horses at the farm. She turned out to be my favorite horse the entire week. We set out with Donatella leading us.

We started out the day by riding to the vineyards of Tenuta Di Arceno. The road leading to it was a typical Tuscan cypress lane.

We arrived at the vineyards and settled in for our tasting.

Before we tasted the wine we were given a brief talk on the winery and its history and property. We also received a lesson in Chianti wine. True Chianti wine must be at least 80% San Giovese grape. It doesn't have to be all San Giovese because it's a strong grape that makes a very strong wine, so it's permissable to blend it somewhat. Chianti wine is meant to be drunk with food so that something can counteract its strong acidic and tannin qualities. We tried four wines that day. We tried their Classico, which is the lightest blend, the Riserva, which has a higher San Giovese grape content, a pure San Giovese wine, and a wine blend that is not considered Chianti at all.

After having four glasses of wine, I was definitely feeling a bit tipsy. Our horses were waiting patiently in the olive groves, but I had no wall or block or even a slope to help me get back on. Jup is not a large horse, but she isn't a pony like Baby or Riddle. It was utterly comical seeing my drunk self attempt to mount her from the ground!

From the vineyard we rode to the hillside village of San Gusme`.

We had to tie up our horses and explore on foot. It's a picturesque little town with amazing views of the surrounding countryside. Donatella encouraged us to go have a drink at a particular trattoria, but I had consumed enough pre-lunch alcohol that morning. We strolled through the town and took some photos of the views before rejoining Donatella and the horses.

From there were rode down into the valley and then back up to a plateau of another hill to Campi. There was a farm and a church there and more beautiful views.

It had been a long morning, so lunch was quite leisurely. After we had eaten (and drunk more wine) we lay back and attempted a siesta. The ride back down was not terribly long, so it wasn't too back breaking. The day was the perfect balance of ridingl, relaxing and wine-tasting. My horse was wonderful. It was a good day.

That night we had company for dinner. Jenny the English woman from Rendola has brought her guests to stay at Beradenga for the night. They were on a progressive ride. Kevin and I had been considering Jenny's trip when we were choosing our vacation, but we were glad we ended up where we were. There were 8 American women doing the Rendola ride. They were all very nice, but most of them knew each other prior to the ride and their interal banter was a bit overwhelming. They were a real flock of hens! Throughout the week either Donatella or Sadio joined us at dinner while one of them would have dinner downstairs in their apartment with their daughter. This particular night was Donatella's night to eat with us, so Kevin was the odd man out. It all made for a very strange evening, but horse people are horse people no matter where you go, so we all had some common ground to enjoy, sharing photos of horses and miscellaneous animals.

Day 5 -

It's a good thing I'm not a coffee drinker because the Rendola women managed to ravage the coffee supply that morning. We all had one more meal together before they departed for their ride and their night in Siena.

Today was another half-day ride. My horse for the morning was Skyan, a gorgeous little black Arabian. Kevin had ridden him on Monday and wasn't terribly crazy about him. I was a little tentative about it, but Sadio assured me I'd be fine. I found he was pretty good.

A Dutch couple currently living in Colorado who were staying at Montebenichi joined us for the morning's trail ride. Sadio had us just ride around in their indoor ring (it's not an actual indoor ring, but a small ring under an open pavilion) while we waited for them. It gave me a chance to get acquainted with Skyan and establish who is boss. I found him a bit lazy in the ring. On the trail he was still a tad lazy until it came time to canter. Then he wanted to just keep going and going. I had a hard time bringing him down to a trot and a walk after we would canter for a stretch.

The ride was a quiet one. We rode up the other side of the D'Ombrone Abbey and eventually rode to the property where Donatella first opened her business. On the way back we went through the woods, which Donatella called the Fairy Forest. It did look rather enchanted with the bright Tuscan sun filtering through the green leaves. Lush green forests can seem out of place in Tuscany in a drought.

We returned to the farm for a delicious lunch and then Sadio took us to the Medieval Fortress of Castello di Brolio. This has been home to the Ricasoli family for 32 generations. Although not much of the castle is original, the older parts do date back to Medieval times while there is a larger newer part built in the 20th Century and is still occupied by the Ricasoli family. The Medieval area now houses a small museum displaying artifacts from the estate. We had a nice tour, but I was forbidden to take pictures inside. When we left our tour we ran into the Rendola women who were about to embark on the tour themselves.

We learned about Barone Bettino Ricasoli who was one of the first prime ministers of Italy after the Risorgimento (when Italy became a unified country in the 19th century). He was also a scientist and an artist and much of his work and studies were on display in the museum. His best claim to fame though is that he is the inventor of Chianti wine. He was the one who came up with the formula to temper the strong taste of the San Giovese grape.

Because this is the birthplace of Chianti wine, the property houses a winery that makes several kinds of Chianti wine and other vintages as well. We visited the winery for a tasting. Our price of admission to the museum only bought us one wine each, but Kevin and I each tried a different one and swapped sips. I tried a robust Chianti, while he tried a sweet ice wine.

We also spent some time walking the grounds. The views were stunning. The gardens were particularly beautiful with their perfectly manicured shrubbery.

From Brolio we stopped on the way home to the house that was the site of the movie Stealing Beauty. It's not occupied now. The lower floor has horse stalls in it and that's where Jenny was keeping the Rendola horses for the night while their tour spent the night in Siena. (Kevin joked that the next morning a hotel in Siena was going to run out of coffee very quickly.) I recognized the little cottage where Liv Tyler stayed in the movie. There were the signature olive groves there was well.

It was back to the farm for a nice quiet dinner with just Kevin, Miriam and Sadio.

To Be Continued...

Italian Adventures - Part 1

2011-10-18T15:38:00.000-07:00

Cue Music: O Babbino Mio Caro

Although we only began planning this trip a few months ago, the genesis of this trip happened over 10 years ago.

Back in 2001 my mother had just received a copy of the now-defunct Cross Country International catalog and showed it to me. Kevin and I were planning our honeymoon at the time, and this catalog was like the ultimate honeymoon wishbook. It featured horseback riding trips all over the world.

Ever since I took up riding as a hobby I had dreamed of trips to places like Ireland and Scotland. I knew that riding vacations were abundant in those countries as they were mentioned often in the horse magazines I read obsessively. I imagined rides over windswept hills, rugged coastlines, and seemingly enchanted forests.

The Cross Country International catalog had plenty of trips like that in the offering, but it also alerted me to trips in other countries. The British Isles were not the only places to have horseback vacations. I could ride in Spain, France, and, most dear to my heart, Italy. Kevin and I both agreed that an Italian riding holiday would be the ultimate fantasy honeymoon.

It didn't happen of course. Planning our wedding and buying our home left us with little time or energy to plan any sort of elaborate honeymoon. Riding trips would have to be put on hold for a while until we could be in the best place to plan one.

Eventually we took that trip to Ireland. It was magical and was all I had dreamed of since childhood. After it was over I still dreamed of Italy. You see, I have always been something of an Italophile, having studied the language for many years in middle school and high school. Then I took a tour in high school as well. I put a lot of pressure on Kevin to take me there over the years. Finally he said, "We will go for our 10th anniversary." I told him I would hold him to that. At the time it seemed our 10th anniversary was quite far away. It came up faster than we expected though, and this year I held him to it. We booked the trip.

When we first discovered Italian riding trips, we had looked at the catalog for only one tour company and that tour company only offered one trip. After Cross Country International went out of business I spent more time checking out Equitours and Hidden Trails. They had far more trips available and it was hard to choose which one we wanted. We preferred stationary rides to progressive ones. We wanted trips where the locations were accessible. We wanted them to be as inclusive as possible. We wanted to know we would be seeing a good number of interesting sights. The Chianti Country Ride and Wine Tasting Tour fit the bill for the most part. We were a bit intimidated by the need for the plane and train transfers, but otherwise we felt the trip would mix riding with unmounted sightseeing, and, best of all, wine tasting!

The trip was booked. The plane tickets bought. We were ready to go. So Begins the adventure.

Day 1+

We arrived at the Alitalia terminal at JFK and checked in easily, but the security line was huge. I hoped it wasn't a bad omen. I kept thinking about the old joke that Alitalia is an acronym for Always Late In Takeoff, Always Late In Arrival. All went smoothly though. Once we got past the first checkpoint, the security line moved a bit faster. We made it to the gate in reasonable time and the flight was not delayed.

It was a rough flight because sleep evaded me. I'm getting better at sleeping on planes than I used to be, but that night was just awful (even though wine is free on Alitalia). By the time we arrived in Rome in the morning I was incredibly grumpy. It did cheer me up a little bit to see Rome outside the window though. Although it had been over 25 years since I was last there, something felt familiar to me.

We had to get off the plane onto the Tarmac and then take a shuttle bus to the gate. From there we had to walk forever through the terminal, have our passport checked (but not stamped- they didn't stamp till we left) before we finally arrived at the gate. When it was time to board, we had to get back on a shuttle bus and drive to the plane, then board next one from the Tarmac yet again. Then the plane sat there for an hour. I managed to get a nap at that point. I slept more while waiting for the plane to take off for Florence than I did during the entire flight to Rome. The actual flight to Florence was shorter than the amount of time we sat sitting on the runway.

My mood improved a bit when we began our descent into Florence. Just before the plane hit the ground I saw the iconic red dome of the Duomo of Santa Maria Dei Fiore and the tower of the Palazzo Vecchio. We had arrived unmistakably.

The journey was far from over. We had transfers galore to make. First we had to go to the Santa Maria Novello train station. There were airport shuttle buses, but we had two giant, heavy suitcases and were rather exhausted, so we weren't feeling much in the mood to find the bus and then drag our bags around. We opted to splurge on a taxi. Once we arrived at the station, we still had two hours until the train we told our hosts we would be taking was set to depart. Fortunately they have a left luggage office and we were able to pay to store our bags and take a walk.

We didn't have too much time to explore. The duomo was nearby, so we walked around it. We also found Dante's church and museum. I had hoped to make it to the Piazza Signoria, but there was no time and I didn't have a map anyway (although if we just found the Palazzo Vecchio tower rising above the city and walked toward it, I'm sure we would have found it eventually if we had the time). We headed back to the station, claimed our luggage, and boarded the train from Montevarchi.

The train ride was sort of disappointing. I was expecting to see typical Tuscan countryside as soon as we left the city, but the area was kind of ugly. The rolling hills were there, but there were many industrial buildings around. It wasn't terribly picturesque. This went on for a while and I was beginning to wonder how close the farm was to this stuff.

We finally arrived in Montevarchi, a fairly nondescript town. We had hoped our hosts would be there to greet us, but when we left the train, no one was there. We watched for quite some time as cars pulled up to the station, but there was still no sign of our ride. Finally an English woman approached us and asked if we were waiting for Sadio. She said she was from another riding center (Rendola, a trip that was on our list of contenders for our vacation) and was there to pick up her guests. She would let Sadio know we were waiting. As it turns out, we were waiting on the wrong side of the tracks and he was looking for us! We met up with our host Sadio as well as the one other guest staying at the farm that week, Miriam, a German woman currently living in Amsterdam.

It wasn't a long ride to the farm (and the countryside became more picturesque as we grew closer to it) and we were grateful when we arrived that the seemingly endless journey of planes, trains, and automobiles was finally over.

When we reached Centro Ippico Di Beradenga, Sadio took our luggage to our rooms and gave us a tour of the house. Our rooms were all lovely and we felt we had reached paradise at this point. Then he took us out to view the barn and the grounds. We met his wife Donatella along with some of the horses and the dogs.

After we had unpacked our stuff, we were restless and had a fair amount of time to kill before dinner, so we decided to take a walk up to Montalto, the castle that overlooks the farm. The property of the riding center used to be part of the Montalto estate. We had a beautiful view of the castle at sunset and took a few pictures then rushed back down the hill to get back to the farm before it was dark.

We ate a delicious dinner with Donatella and Sadio that night. When I told Donatella that I spoke some Italian she became determined that week to help me speak it better. It made for some interesting conversations.

Day 2

This was our first riding day. I was very excited to meet my horse and start exploring the countryside. We met Donatella and Sadio at 10 AM and they helped us mount up. I rode a handsome chestnut named Ambrogio. Kevin rode a sweet little white Dutch mare named Jup. Miriam was on a large flea-bitten gelding named Dakot. I nicknamed Ambrogio "Bro", which I said made me a "Bro Ho."

Within our first 30 minutes of riding I found out that this was definitely not a typical nose-to-tail, give-your-horse-a-loose-rein-and-let-him-follow trail ride. You really had to ride your horses. They would not automatically go on autopilot following the horses in front of them. Right from the first trot I found Ambrogio liked to take the bit in his teeth, curl his neck, and threaten to buck, occasionally succeeding in doing so. I really had to learn to ride him properly. His canters were speedy. Although we are told to stand up at the canter prior to the ride, Sadio told me to sit Bro and take more control of his stride. By the end of the day I had figured him out and managed to control and enjoy our last bouts of cantering.

Our visit started with a ride to Montalto. From there we rode by the vineyards of Monastero D'Ombrone, a former monastery with some of its structures dating back to the 8th century. There were gorgeous views from here of the Val D'Orcia beyond the olive groves and grapevines. In the very far distance we could even see Siena.

We rode down into a valley, getting off and walking our horses part of the way (helpful for our poor, aching knees) and stopped for a picnic lunch that Donatella had driven to us. We were quite warm when it started, but the temperatures dropped toward the end and the wind kicked up. We were anxious to be back on our nice warm horses.

We rode back into the hills to the village of Rapale. After exploring the village a bit we went back down the hill using the terraced landscape. It felt a bit treacherous. Ambrogio tended to spook and I was really begging him to stay calm on the way down because a spook could send us both over the edge.

The final part of the ride was through tobacco fields. I did not know they grew tobacco in Italy, but Sadio said they make a certain type of cigar in Italy. He said his father used to smoke them and they are pretty foul.

Exhausted we made it back to riding center and watched Donatella give a riding lesson (she's a tough cookie) to the local students until it grew too cold to stay outside. We were grateful for the fireplace that night.

Day 3

We started with a very chilly morning that gradually grew warmer. My horse for the day was a large bay mare named Cleo. She had rather bumpy gaits, but she was a bit calmer than Ambrogio. Today was only a half day ride. Sadio took us to the village of Montebenichi. There is a very nice hotel here. We rode back to the farm after that and had lunch on their clubhouse patio.

After lunch they drove us to Siena. We didn't have much time to really explore the sites in depth, but we were able to see the churches of San Domenico and the Duomo along with a few other charming churches. Of course we also went to the Piazza Del Campo where they run Il Palio every year.

On the drive there I spotted two women at the side of the road waving their arms. Sadio said, "Those women are what you think they are." At first I thought, "So people get away with hitchhiking around here?" Then I realized what he meant. Who knew there was that much business out in the country?

Since we didn't have time to wait on line for museums or to go inside the Duomo, we spent a fair amount of time shopping. I was eager to start Christmas shopping. Miriam, Sadio, and Donatella seemed rather surprised by that. Is trying to get your Christmas shopping early an American thing, or is the obsession with Christmas shopping in general an American thing? I did pick up a few gifts, although not as many as I had hoped. I particularly wanted to find some interesting Italian gifts for the children, but the toy stores were all typical American-style toy stores.

We made sure to have some gelato of course. Nocciola please!

Back to the farm in the evening and early to bed to rest of for another day-long ride.

To be continued...

Facebook Games Anyone?

2011-09-16T06:59:00.000-07:00

There are two kinds of Facebook users: Those who play online Facebook games, and those who not only don't play them, but can't even understand why anyone would play them.

There are several subcategories of game players. Some will play certain games but not others. Some may try a game or two before deciding it's a waste of time. All the while those who avoid Facebook games like a bad cliche, just don't get it. What is the appeal?

I'm here to say I get the appeal. It's frightening how games can suck certain types of people in. I don't even consider myself a die-hard gamer. There are players who will spend actual money for virtual possessions. I'm not that bad and never was, but I still know what it's like to have a little bit of an obsession.

It started with Farmville. I'm surprised I even bothered to open one of the many invitations I received to play Farmville. I just decided one day that if so many of my friends were playing it, then it must be fun. I should check it out and see what I was missing.

I started the game. I was given a small patch of land, enough money to buy a couple of cheap crops, and a cartoon farmer that I could customize to look somewhat like me. I planted my first crop.

The next day I went back to my "farm" and saw a bunch of withered crops. I hadn't harvested them soon enough. Every crop takes a certain amount of time to grow to maturity. Once the crop is grown, you have double that amount of time to harvest it. For example, my first crop was strawberries. They take two hours to grow, then I have four hours to harvest them. If I don't harvest them within that window of time, they die. By coming back the next day, I lost the cash on the crop.

I learned my lesson and harvested my next set up crops in time. Now I had some extra cash. I began to buy some farm accessories. After all, my farmer was living on just a patch of land without so much as a chair to sit on. Wouldn't she like a shade tent?

Friends began gifting me with animals and trees. Soon I was buying fencing to keep the animals corralled (not that they ever went anywhere). I decided I wanted to save up my coins to buy a barn for all of my horses. Next, I focused on a cottage, because my farmer needed a place to live. I have always wanted a farm house in real life, so my goal become to achieve enough levels and virtual money to buy one.

I can only compare this process to having a dollhouse as a kid. I loved decorating my dollhouse and creating a virtual world for my dolls. I was doing the same thing online, except I was doing things I never did as a kid like earn money and plan and set up a budget for these objects. I had created a virtual world of my own choosing. For example, I had been gifted with several citrus trees, so I put them all in one corner of the farm with a duck pond and a picnic table. "Citrus Grove" was my farm's official park and picnic area. When I had enough money and points to buy my farmhouse, I surrounded it with lush flower gardens.

When I had a dollhouse, I could go in and play with it once it was decorated. My dolls could enter it. I could expand my fantasies. My friends could play with me. My farm had no such luxury. I couldn't go inside my farmhouse and decorate it. I bought a barn for my herd of horses, but they didn't go inside that barn. They sat outside in the corral I created for them out of fencing. Nothing in the farm was truly functional except for a dairy barn and chicken coop that would harvest the milk and eggs from all of your cows and chickens at the same time.

If you were willing to invest real money you could purchase a fruit and vegetable stand and some amusement park rides, but no one actually came and ride them. You couldn't invite your friends over to pay for the attractions you put on your property. Unlike virtual reality games like Rollercoaster Tycoon where virtual guests pay money and give feedback, there is no option like that in Farmville. Your goal is to buy seeds, plant crops, and then harvest them before they wither. Your friends can visit your farm and clean up or fertilize to earn coins for themselves, but they can't interact with you on the farm.

After a while the game became tedious. The process of playing Farmville consisted of clicking the mouse a dozen times to plant, then another dozen to harvest. The larger your farm, the more crops you had and thus the more you wasted time going clickclickclickclickclickclickclick. I had purchased everything I thought I wanted for my virtual world that I wouldn't have to pay real money for. The game had grown old and dull. One day I harvested every last crop and every last tree and sold every building, animal, and piece of equipment on my farm. Then I blocked the application. I was through with Farmville. It was fun while it lasted, but it really wasn't doing much to enrich my life.

I tried Cafe World for a little while. I couldn't resist a game that was food oriented and the game is slightly more interactive than Farmville. Virtual customers come into your restaurant and you can lose points if they aren't seated and fed. I also had some fun decorating my restaurant. Again, it was like a dollhouse for adults.

Cafe World really stressed me out in the end. In Cafe World you have to prepare food and each dish takes a certain amount of time to "cook". If you wait too long after it's ready, it rots and turns green and flies buzz around it. Once the dish is cooked it has to be placed on the serving table to be served to the virtual guests. Most dishes needed to be served within a day, so there was real need to be going back to the game far more than you should on a work day. I stopped that one.

I ignored all of these games for quite a long time. No cities or farms or aquariums could tempt me.

Then came Gardens of Time.

I don't remember the reason why I decided to check out Gardens of Time. I had vowed to ignore all Facebook games, but I must have seen something on Facebook that made me give it a look.

Gardens of Time is an actual game, unlike Farmville. I can only compare it to the kids' I Spy books or Where's Waldo? books. If you have a kid who owns I Spy books, I strongly recommend you hide them from me when I'm at your house because once I get my hands on one of those books, you might as well stop trying to talk to me for the next few hours. I love those books. I can't get enough of them. That's why I loved Gardens of Time. I could play online I Spy to my little heart's content. Unlike I Spy, every time you play the same scene, the objects you are required to find are different, so there is always potentially a new challenge.

I learned after the first few rounds that there is a catch. There is a reason why the game is called Gardens of Time. Players are given a patch of land that is their "garden". It contains the time machine (each scene has a theme to a different time and place in history) and not much else. It is up to the player to "decorate" it with artifacts and buildings and all manner of flora and fauna using the virtual money you win playing the game. I didn't want to bother with the decorating. I just wanted to play the scenes. Who cared about decorating some silly garden?

That's where the catch comes in. New scenes are locked after the first "chapter" in the game. The only way to unlock new scenes is to earn reputation points. How do you earn reputation points? You have to decorate your garden.

I began to decorate my garden. At first I just threw a few things in there for points, but soon that obsession with organizing and decorating kicked in. Soon I began designing a dream garden. Pathways wound through flower gardens. Benches sat next to shady tress that overlooked ponds full of swans. Statues elegantly greeted virtual guests at every corner.

The more stuff I began to accumulate, the more I really began to feel responsible for this garden. I started organizing my garden by artifact type. I have an Egyptian section, a Chinese section, an English section, and I'm working on an ancient Greco-Roman section. I dream of a French section and an Italian section. I want fountains in the garden areas and unicorns grazing among the trees.

In order for me to collect all of this stuff I needed space. Here is the next catch. In order to purchase more space, you need to have a certain number of "neighbors". It's good to have neighbors. You can visit your neighbor's gardens and play more scenes there in the form of blitz games. They can also give you gifts (some of which are more useful than others) and help you build some of the larger buildings in your garden. I do not like pressuring my friends to play if they don't want to. That choice is entirely up to them and knowing how annoyed some of them are by seeing posts about Facebook games, I am not about to start sending them invitations via the game. I occasionally put out Facebook statuses out asking if anyone might be interested, but that's it. Since I didn't want to bother my friends who likely didn't want to play anyway, my expansion was happening at a very slow pace.

I knew that if I really wanted to increase my reputation, I could simply just buy up as much virtual crap as I wanted and shove it all in there regardless of how it looked. I couldn't bring myself to do it. I really didn't want to ruin the aesthetics of my virtual world. I wanted the garden to look a certain way. It needed to be organized and pretty. I found myself saying inwardly, "You need room for paths so guests can walk freely through here."

I couldn't believe I had actually thought that. At my age do I really need such an overactive imagination? "THERE ARE NO GUESTS," I screamed at myself a hundred times. "If your main goal is simply to get enough reputation to unlock more scenes to play, then you shouldn't care about how your garden looks."

The logical part of me was very good about making that argument, but when I looked at the scene I had created with its meandering pathways and blooming flower gardens, I knew I could never bring myself to just start shoving stuff into my allotted garden space. I needed to buy more space. To get space I needed more neighbors.

There is a page on Facebook for Gardens of Time neighbor requests. I decided to give it a try. What did I have to lose? I posted on the wall that I was looking for neighbors so I could have some expansion.

Did I say I wanted neighbors? Well I got neighbors! I have expanded my garden three times I had so many neighbors. I probably acquired 30 new Facebook friends this week alone. Some of these folks are real power players. I'm at level 18. These folks are at level 60 and beyond. I have plenty of gardens to blitz in and I acquire gifts ten times a day.

I try to play any Facebook game as respectfully as possible. I do not post any of my achievements on my Facebook wall. Occasionally I'll accidentally click the mouse and post something, but I make a point to keep Gardens of Time in Gardens of Time and not to let it spill into other places in Facebook. I try to be very respectful of my neighbors. Many of them enjoy playing, but don't want to be bothered with constant Facebook notifications. I do not send gifts to other players unless I'm sending one in return to one sent to me. I only ask for help from people who have asked me. I do not send notifications that I have sent a gift. I figure they can see what I have sent them when they play. I don't want to clog up anyone's inbox. I just want to play my scenes and allow others to do the same.

I'm sure I will grow tired of Gardens of Time eventually. I'm not sure what I'll do with all of those new friends I have made. Some of them seem like nice people and have posted stuff on my wall outside of the Gardens of Time universe. I'd probably like to hold on to some of them. I'll worry about it when the time comes I suppose.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go expand my garden again.

Click here for an interesting take on how people get addicted to Farmville

I Got Mine. Screw You!

2011-08-12T05:46:00.000-07:00

Sometimes Facebook statuses make me just want to scream with rage.

There has been a run lately of statuses from various friends saying things like, "I'm so glad certain states require drug testing for welfare recipients," or "I don't want those lazy, unemployed people living off my taxes." Yeah, the world is filled with filthy parasites living the good life off your tax dollars. "Even though I probably don't know any of these people I'm accusing of sponging off of me, I know they don't deserve anything!"

Should a child go hungry due to the sins of its parents? Is it the fault of an innocent child that its parents have a drug problem*, or have questionable immigration status (and remember a child born in this country is a citizen and has full rights to access to government services)? Children can't work. They can't really manage money. All they can do is depend on their parents. Yet these parents are being punished and children pay the price. Americans cared so much about the death of a cute little white girl in the suburbs, but in our own communities children may be going hungry, and we're going to turn our backs on them because we disapprove of their parents.

Did all disabled people deliberately drive their cars off cliffs in order to receive government funds? If they were in an accident that wasn't their fault, can they receive funds? What if they were injured on the job - a job they worked hard at? How about veterans injured in battle? Would you deny them benefits as well?

Are all unemployed Americans simply unwilling to work? Do they deserve nothing if they were laid off? Do you think they're not looking for jobs? Do you know how hard it can be in this economy?

Who are any of us to tell others that they don't deserve help? What makes you so much better than anyone else. Just because you're currently able-bodied and employed doesn't mean you will always be that way. Your life situation could change with a single illness, a single accident, a single layoff.

This humorous article does an excellent job of showing how one of our most rabidly anti-government-program politcians has used many government programs throughout her life, including ones she rails against. She is not the only one, on the right or the left, who has said, "These programs are bad," while taking advantage of their availabilty.

Availability is the key here. Are you aware that government programs are available to everyone? If you live in the US, there is a good chance you're entitled to quite a few benefits. All of us are paying into the system in one way or another. All of us can benefit from it. That's the benefit of a working society . We all have each other's backs. Maybe that person in need will one day indirectly come to my aid. That's how it works. I'm facing unemployment in the future. Who knows what the state of my paycheck or my healthcare will be this time next year? I do know that I can partake of a system I paid into if I need it. I hope I don't need it, but I'll never know until it happens.

That's the whole problem though. Everyone who receives a government benefit feels that he or she deserves it. We all want to believe we are unique, special snowflakes that are somehow above those other people who don't deserve help the way we do. The attitude is, "I can have benefits, but the rest of you are lazy slobs shouldn't have a thing. By the way, your children don't deserve anything either."

Yep, I got mine. Now screw you. That's the attitude in this country. It's all pervasive and it's growing larger by the day.

Kind of scary when you think about it. I suppose Margaret Thatcher is right. There is no such thing as society.

*For those of you who ask why drug testing is unconstitutional, I refer you to the 5th amendment that prohibits unlawful government search and seizure. That's government search and seizure just to remind you. If you ever had the embarassment of a drug test at work, I'm sorry you had to go through that, but private organizations are entitled to do as they please. You can refuse a drug test without assumption of guilt by the authorities (although you probably won't get the job).

The Boring and Thoroughly Pointless Travelogue

2011-08-02T14:20:00.000-07:00

I did say I wanted to try to post one blog a week here on S&C. Since I was on vacation, it's all I currently have to blog about!

The only unpleasant part of going to Chincoteague is that I eventually have to leave it. When we're there, it feels as if we never left. When we're home, it feels as if we were never there. We are back in the real world though, so it's time to bore whatever readers I have with my adventures.

Day 1 - We left Sunday morning at 6:39 AM. That's the earliest we ever left. It was a wise idea. There was almost no traffic. We made it to the Delaware Memorial Bridge in two hours. That was the easy part. The trek through Delaware is always the longest leg (how can a state so small feel so endless?) but we really made excellent time. Lack of traffic helped, but Kevin also drove like a madman. He is always such a careful driver, but he really booked it down the Jersey Turnpike! We made it there in five and a half hours when it normally takes seven.

We arrived around 12:30. It was ridiculously, torturously hot out. We went out for lunch at an outdoor food stand near our hotel and the wait for our food was painful. I could not wait to hit the beach and cool off in the ocean. Sadly, but the time we had eaten lunch and checked into our hotel, the clouds were beginning to gather. A thunderstorm was definitely threatening. Rangers were kicking people off the beach. My plans for a swim were ruined. We did go to the south pens and checked out the ponies who were already penned there.

What really burned my butt is that the storm never really arrived. The clouds gathered and there were some distant rumbles of thunder and flashes of lightning for a while, but the rain never came and the storm moved off. It was sunny again by dinner time.

I spent the hours before dinner at the gym (I needed to move my body after 5+ hours in the car) and at the hotel's tiny, overheated and thoroughly unrefreshing indoor pool. I wouldn't call it an eventful afternoon.

We met the whole family at Etta's restaurant for dinner. It has a great view of Assateague and the Assateague channel and we had a nice table by the window. After a pleasant dinner, we headed to Mom's rental house just to check the place out and relax with a little more wine. Our vacation had officially started.

Day 2 - Monday morning the cowboys walk the half of the herd penned on the north end of Assateague down the beach to the pens on the south end. It has become an official Pony Penning event as much as the swim itself, so it has become quite crowded. That meant getting up early because they do it early in the morning and you need to get a good parking space. It can make for stunning photo ops because the sunrise over the beach is always amazing, plus it's beautiful seeing the herd walking down the beach.

It was not the sunniest morning to begin with and only grew worse as the morning went on. Just as the ponies were coming down the beach, it began raining. It didn't rain hard, but it put a damper on the photography. Kevin was ready with a plastic bag around his camera of course.

As always it took forever to leave the parking lot after it was over, but we made it back to the hotel in time for breakfast.

After breakfast I took a walk and did some shopping by myself in some of the girlier shops on the island. The rain went away and gave way to a decent day, so I hit the beach for the afternoon. Before the beach we had to check out the pens since both herds were there. We saw Riddle's mother and Riddle's newest sibling - a little chestnut filly with a big white blaze. She was cute, but Riddle is cuter.

We had dinner at Mom's place that night. Erik cooked a big seafood extravaganza. We brought ice cream and a supply of barbecued food from Woody's so I wouldn't have to eat it.

Day 3 - This started out as the perfect day. Kevin and I had riding lessons at the Chincoteague Pony Centre. They put me on my favorite pony, Chincoteague Cowboy. He's a gelding and very talented and so willing. I'm so used to riding stubborn/green mares that Cowboy is a breath of fresh air.

After lunch Kevin and I headed to the beach. It was HOT out, so hot that Kevin even got into the water enough to get his bathing suit wet ;-). Most of the week the surf was pretty calm, but this day that surf was kicking up a bit, which made for some truly excellent boogie boarding. I am an ocean addict!

Since we had to get up early for the swim the next day, Kevin and I planned on an early dinner and an early bedtime. We left the beach, cleaned ourselves up, and got into the car to head to Mr. Baldy's for dinner.

Kevin started the car up, the engine turned over - and died.

Kevin tried again. The engine turned over - and died.

Kevin tried once more. The engine turned over- and died.

Here we were in the middle of our vacation and our car was suddenly not running. We ran back into the hotel and began inquiring about local mechanics. Tom, the general manager, and our good friend, was able to recommend someone he knew on the island. Of course his shop was closed for the day. Did I also mention that there are no towing companies on the island? Kevin was able to get a hold of the mechanic (he also owns the local bowling alley and was there) who said he would look at the car if we could tow it to his place, but it would have to wait until Thursday since he was going to be closed on Pony Swim day.

So we were now in a position where we would be dependent on my family for rides. I mentioned earlier that Mom and the rest of the family were staying in a rental house. That house was way on the north end of the island. Our hotel is in the middle of town. Now I know that on an island that's only 6 miles long this really shouldn't seem like much of a distance, but it was hardly convenient for anyone. We all had to coordinate schedules and forced Mom to go out of her way now and then. It was not a good position to be in.

In any case, Rocky, the hotel maintenance man, said he would use his personal AAA membership to have Kevin's car towed to the mechanic by an off-island towing company first thing Thursday morning. The car would be taken care of as soon as humanly possible.

We had to have dinner at a restaurant in walking distance. There aren't many of those near our hotel, but one of them happens to be a pretty good Vietnamese place, so it wasn't so bad that Kevin missed Mr. Baldy's.

Day 4 - Pony Swim! The word on the street was that the slack tide wouldn't happen until after noon. The shuttle buses to the viewing grounds weren't going to be running until 8. However, we weren't viewing from land. As always, we would be viewing from Captain Barry's boat, and boats almost seem to race each other to the swim site to compete for the best viewing spot. That meant we had to meet Barry at 5AM and just wait...and wait...and wait for the swim to happen.

Mom was kind enough to swing by and pick us up and drive us to Barry's boat slip. Penelope was joining us for the first time too. We all wanted her to see it up close, but it was the wrong year for her to be there. The poor girl was a bit hot and bored the whole day. Fortunately, the boat that was tied up next to us had a little girl her age on it and the two of them hung out together all day and made mischief.

After egg sandwiches, copious mimosas (Barry makes them with fresh-squeezed juice), and avoiding sunburn, the ponies swam around 1:30. We all hoped the swim would never take that long again.

We did our usual ritual of leaving the swim and then tying up at Daisey's Dockside (another cruise company that has a fleet of boats and a much bigger dock than Barry has who is friends with Barry) and then getting off the boat and waiting on Main Street to watch the ponies parade down the street to the carnival grounds. Fortunately, that wait wasn't agonizingly long.

After a very late lunch I strongarmed Mom into taking me to the beach. Wasn't too difficult in the end. It was a hot day and since she seemed to be the only person going to the beach, she got some nice peace and quiet. It's not easy staying in a house with 8 other people (4 of which are children under 10).

We hung out with the family at the Fireman's Carnival for dinner that night. We saw the ponies safely in the carnival pens and ready for the auction.

Day 5 - Auction day. We didn't go to the auction. I have seen enough of it. It can be interesting to see what the ponies go for, but I run out of patience after the tenth pony or so. It can be a long, dull, hot day. Kevin and I took a cruise with Captain Barry instead.

Last year we had Barry to ourselves, so he took us from photo-op to photo-op as well as take us to one of the uninhabited islands. This year we weren't so lucky and there was a little kid on board with her family. Barry had to do his standard stuff with her like show her how to pluck and shuck oysters, dig for clams, pull up a crab trap, and hunt for shells. It was nice being out on the water, and it's always fun to be out with Barry, but we have had better cruises. After the cruise we had lunch at the deck bar of the Chincoteague Inn enjoying burgers and margaritas.

In the afternoon we headed back to the Pony Centre because Penelope and Charles were having their first riding lessons. No one has given up hope that they might want to take up riding in the future and ride Grandma's ponies. They seemed to enjoy themselves, especially Penelope who smiled every time she trotted, but I'm not sure they loved it enough to keep doing it in the future.

I was really hoping for some beach time, because it was stinking hot out, but no one had the time to take me. We stayed at the Pony Centre and watched their nightly horse show instead.

For dinner we went to Steamers, a restaurant with trash cans and paper towels on every butcher-paper-covered table. It's the kind of place where people can messily smash and crack and pick seafood. It's the kind of place that makes me wish I liked the stuff. Too bad I don't. We ate an equally decadent meal of fried chicken, hush puppies, biscuits, and corn on the cob. After dinner we continued our gluttony at the Island Creamery with hot fudge sundaes. The Island Creamery has the best hot fudge.

We also had the status update on the car. The problem was the fuel pump. Why a fuel pump would suddenly die on a four-year-old car is a mystery, but that's what happened. Hypothetically this was a warranty repair, but the mechanic didn't do warranty repairs. The nearest Hyundai dealership was over an hour away in Salisbury Maryland. The local mechanic thought he could get a new fuel pump from them quickly, but that was not to be. That dealership didn't have one either (good thing we didn't try to take the car there or we would have been stuck there instead of in Chincoteague). We would have to wait until the new fuel pump came in from California. It might come in Friday. It also might not come until Monday, keeping us stuck in Chincoteague until Tuesday.

Being stuck in Chincoteague over the weekend would have been such a hardship!

Day 6 - Last full day in Chincoteague - or not? Who knows if the new fuel pump would come this day or not? All I knew was I had to make the most of it in case it really was the last day. I made the most of it by starting my day with doing 3 loads of laundry.

After breakfast I rented a little cart to drive myself around in for the day. It was ridiculously expensive, but it kept me from being dependent on others for rides. A scooter would have been cheaper, but I needed the space in the cart for my boogie board and beach chair.

While Kevin held on for dear life, I drove us both to one of the local mini golf courses so we could play a round with Erik and the kids. It was insanely hot out once again. We could only survive 9 holes in that heat. There was only one place any of us wanted to be after that and that was the beach.

Sadly Kevin had to stay in our room and do a conference call for work, but the rest of us made it out to the beach for the afternoon. I loved driving my dangerous little open cart down the beach road in Assateague. The ponies had returned to Assateague (watching them swim back is another event I usually skip) and were standing along the roads ready to be gawked at. I had the wind in my hair and was one with nature. WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!

The day was so hot that no one ever wanted to leave the water. Even the water was unusually warm. The shallow water at the edge was like bath water. I was quite happy there were no jellyfish despite the warm water. The water was calm, but I managed to catch a few good waves. Even though we all had a dinner reservation and had to leave by a certain time, it was really really hard. We all kept going back into the water for "one more dip" - adults and children alike I never wanted the day to end.

When I returned to the hotel I got the good news and the bad news. The good news was that the new fuel pump had arrived and Kevin got his car back. The bad news was that Kevin got his car back and therefore we had to go home the next day.

Tom was willing to hold the room for us if we wanted to stay an extra day, but Kevin wasn't feeling well and decided it was best to go home. He tried giving Rocky a big tip when we left for all of his help, but that nice man refused it. How can you not love the people of Chincoteague?

Friday we spent a leisurely morning doing last-minute shopping and then took one last drive on to Assateague to say goodbye to the ponies. A bunch of them were gathered by the road, posing for their photo ops. Then it was time to hit the road. Another Chincoteague vacation gone, another year to wait till the next one.

Miscellaneous Thoughts

2011-07-15T07:16:00.000-07:00

(Per my desire to make sure I have one blog post every week)

Last night I was watching a past Dr. Who episode on Netflix (wonder what we'll be doing with that service in the near future), and I started to geek out to the extreme.

I thought of all of the times and places the Doctor visits. I considered that maybe he should visit some already existing fantasy universes.

The Doctor goes up against Darth Vader.

The Doctor confronts Q.

The Doctor tells off Zaphod Beeblebrox.

Daleks vs. Cylons.

If just thinking about this wasn't geeky enough, I considered the large amounts of crossover fanfiction I could write. Oh the slash potential!!!

I could say I need a hobby, but I have hobbies. I think my brain just needs to be restrained sometimes. It goes places brains should never go.

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It seems that only is the US are shorts considered socially acceptable streetwear for adults. Even in the US shorts have their vocal opposition. There are coworkers in my office attempting to ban shorts in the office. That nasty lady from What Not To Wear opposes shorts on adult women (I'd gladly wear shorts just to piss her off). I can remember how when I was 12 I went on vacation via bus and my grandmother demanded I wear long pants because it was not acceptable to wear shorts when traveling. (Everyone else on the bus was wearing shorts. It was July. I was not a happy camper.)

Despite this, Americans love their shorts and I don't think we will be giving them up any time soon. There are folks who love their shorts so much that they will put them on at the tiniest hint of snow melt - even if they still need to wear two or three layers of clothing on top!

Shorts are easy to wear, and likely easy to make. They don't take much fabric. They don't take much labor. By the nature of their utility, they don't need to be made with expensive fabrics. Cotton will do just fine. Few articles of clothing could be simpler.

Now would someone please tell me why they have become so expensive?

I want shorts for my upcoming vacation. I thought it would be easy to find a few pairs. I need shorts that fit well, aren't too short or too long, and are made of a fairly sturdy fabric that isn't going to show my underwear.

I went to Old Navy. Everything fit poorly and was crap quality. Lots of booty shorts too. I don't want booty shorts. I do have a firm, round, lovely booty that is definitely worth showing off, but unfortunately, the thighs beneath it are not worth showing off! I do not want them exposed. That store was out.

I went to The Sports Authority. Just about every pair of shorts I liked was upwards of $35. How can you get away with charging $35 for a pair or SHORTS? I realized this wasn't the best place to look since SA is going to sell sports-specific shorts. They aren't going to have too many pairs of casual, kickaround-on-a-hot-day kind of shorts. I needed a place with more variety.

I looked at Lands End. They weren't a whole lot cheaper although there was a sale or two. They sell a lot of bermudas. I'm cool with bermudas, but I like to mix it up. On really hot days I want something shorter (just not booty shorts). I came away with one pair that suited my needs.

I went to the women's athletic catalogs like Athleta and Title 9. Did I think that $35 was too much to pay for a pair of shorts? Try $50. Try $90! Yes, I said ninety dollars for a single pair of shorts.

I went to Marshalls, thinking somewhere on those crowded racks they would have what I needed. I walked away with one pair. That's it. Just one. I will say that they are the perfect length and show off the fabulousness of my butt* and cost me very little.

So after this ordeal, I have walked away with only two pairs of shorts that suit my needs. I suppose I should try Kohls, but I'm thinking this is the universe's way of telling me that I am a woman of a certain age whose thighs are massive and whose skin is beginning to buckle a bit (I'm not always as vigilant with the sunscreen as I like to think I am). Perhaps summer needs a Plan B.

*Yes, I know. My butt isn't all that. Looking at it from my perspective however, it's one part of my body where the skin is smooth, sagging hasn't started, has good muscle tone, and isn't 3 inches bigger than it should be. As far as I'm concerned, it's about as good as my body gets!

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Am I the only person who just assumes I have or don't have certain supplies in the kitchen when I'm about to bake? How much overstock do I have of stuff because I don't check? I have more Karo than I know what to do with right now since I seem to think that every time I make a recipe that requires corn syrup (which isn't often), I will need to buy a new bottle.

Then there are the staples I assume I have, but find out later that I don't. Nothing like running out for flour or sugar after I have already preheated the oven and brought a stick of butter to room temp!

About the Recent Verdict

2011-07-06T07:04:00.000-07:00

I never want to serve on a jury. It's not that I'm one of those people who just doesn't want to be bothered. In fact, I understand it's my duty and it's an important task to perform. I believe in the system. I would never tell deliberate lies to get out of jury duty. I still don't want to serve on a jury.

I don't want to serve on a jury because I can't stand the idea of someone's fate being in my hands that way. I don't want to be responsible for an innocent person being locked away (or even killed) or a guilty person going free due to lack of evidence. The idea that I could be responsible terrifies me.

The jury in the Casey Anthony trial did what they were supposed to do. They looked at the evidence and saw that it was insufficient for conviction. The problem is that everyone "knows" she did it. (I heard a funny joke from Michael Moore this morning saying that the jury was unnecessary since Nancy Grace convicted Anthony weeks ago.) The court of public opinion is far too strong in this country. Those jury members were only doing their job and yet they will be pilloried the rest of their lives for the decisions they made.

Let's look at a different case: Scott Peterson. This was another case where guilt was assumed by the entire country. Many people felt that even though we all "know" he was guilty, the evidence wasn't really strong enough. I heard a few rumblings at the time of his conviction that the justice system was falling prey to the court of public opinion. Once again, the jury was filled with flawed human beings and not gods who knew everything.

What bothers me so much about the Court of Public Opinion is how it seems that Americans are able to work themselves into such an emotional lather over people they don't know. We want to see an alleged criminal hang for crimes against a victim we never knew, would never know existed if it weren't for the power of television.

Wouldn't it be nice if we cared about people in our communities who were suffering and dying as much as we cared about people on the other side of the country? The desire to seek revenge and punish has gone way outside the scope of friends and family and is now in the hands of total strangers. I really don't like that.

Let's talk for a minute about why we care so much about certain victims. Caylee Anthony was a tragedy, but it's hardly an isolated case.

Every day, right here in the United States, children go to bed hungry.

Every day, all over the world, children are sold into sex trade, often by their own parents.

Every day, in the US, children are abused and neglected or killed in acts of violence.

Every day in Africa children die of AIDS.

We are shocked by Casey Anthony, without realizing that the person most likely to kill any child is its mother.

I do hope that if we, as Americans who claim to care for and love children, want revenge for all of the wrongs done against innocent children, that we feel this way about all children and not just adorable, doe-eyed suburban white children.

The End of an Era

2011-06-28T17:12:00.000-07:00

Okay. That was a bit dramatic. It's hardly the end of an era, especially considering the "era" is only a year.

In any case, after a year of working part time in the Global Insight NYC office for "training" I'm being kicked out. When I first started working in NY, there was plenty of space left in the office for me to work. Then IHS made yet another acquisition and they condensed the folks from the newly-acquired company and the Global Insight folks into one office. I was sharing the one open desk with another Herold employee who lives in NYC and simply wanted to work there for convenience. We alternated days.

Now they hired a new full time sales person in Global Insight, so I have to give up the desk. I'm back in Norwalk in the Herold office every day soon as is my other Herold coworker. Tomorrow will be my last day in NY.

I have mixed feelings about the whole thing. Much of it is work related of course. Even after a year of supporting the Global Insight product I am still lost. The website is huge, it covers many vastly different types of information, and isn't always consistent with how it is presented on the site. Also, if I have a question to ask, there are so many economists working on this research that I often have to email four people in 3 different parts of the world before I finally speak to the right one. I like being in the office where there is a Global Insight customer support person who is always there to assist me. It's true I've needed her less and less over the months, but it was nice having her if I needed her.

Working in NY had its conveniences too. I could eat lunch with Kevin or with my father. If I was meeting someone for dinner or going to the theather or ballet or some other event in the city, I wouldn't have to take time off from work to get there on time. Commuting on the train was quite relaxing too.

On the other hand, it's still NYC with all of the horrors that make NYC the hellhole that it is.

In the end, what were the pros and cons?

Things I Will Miss About Working in NYC:

Coco Tea, Boi Sandwich, Macchiato Espresso Bar, Dee Daa

The short walk to Book Off, the used book store where I could cheaply buy books and sell them back

Not having to sit in traffic and be able to spend my commute reading and composing blogs on the train

Commuting to work in the morning with Kevin and our kiss goodbye at the bottom of the MetLife building escalator

Being able to have lunch with others who live or work in the city

The ease of being able to go to the theater or similar events after work easily and without having to take time off

Things I Won't Miss About Working in NYC

The cost of all that bubble tea, banh mi, hot chocolate, and Thai food

Getting to the train so late on a summer evening that the only seats left are the ones in the cars that aren't air conditioned

Waiting for the train in the freezing cold when winter weather has caused Metro North delays AGAIN.

Constantly having the rude and oblivious residents almost running me over daily when I walk through Grand Central and to the office

The general stink and heat and crowds and oppressive unpleasantness of big cities

Times Square (which I have to walk through to reach Kevin's office)

Shlepping a huge bag with my laptop back and forth

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I really have been neglecting this blog quite a bit. I am promising myself a blog a week for the summer, no matter how stupid or trivial or controversial. I need to get into practice writing again (for what I don't know, but I need to get into practice).

I may or may not be posting all of my blogs on Facebook. I love to write. I don't always love to respond to the naysayers. I try to ignore/delete comments I don't like, but some people just want to get into it, and sometimes I can't resist. It rarely ever makes anyone happy. I know I'm a bit wuss for not making everything public, but the blogs are here. If you want to read them that badly, come and look for them! I actually haven't posted some of the blogs I have written over the past few months on Facebook. Some blogs are still hiding out here.* Whatever does or doesn't happen with them remains to be seen.

I do have some blogs in the draft stage already that I want to post. I don't know how public I will make them. I have such a diverse group of friends. I know there are blogs that some people will hate, but others will love. Believe it or not, I do actually care if my blog hurts you or angers you.

I really do need to get better with editing and proofreading though. I can't believe the errors I have seen in recent blogs. My hands get ahead of my brain when I type sometimes. Just because my brain thinks it, doesn't mean my hands type it. I miss a few glaring errors and I am ashamed of myself. Perhaps more consistent blogging will help with that.

*If by any chance you are tempted to go through S&C and find out what those unposted blogs were, I just recommend you do so at your own risk. I didn't post those blogs for a reason, so if you don't like it, I don't want to hear about it. You have been warned.

Don't Wish You Were a Weiner

2011-06-21T07:49:00.000-07:00

Now that Weiner has resigned and the various weiner jokes have died down (too bad - they made me giggle like the 12-year-old school girl I am), it's time for me to examine this whole situation with a little perspective.

Americans are so strange when it comes to what we demand from our politicians. We want them to be "just like us". They can't be too intelligent, or too rich, or too successful, or too well-educated. They have to be as normal as possible.

Yet when it comes to the moral character of our politicians, we demand so much more from them. They must be above reproach in every way. They have to prove over and over again that they are practicing Christians* who go to church every Sunday without fail. They can't show any sign of weakness of character. They must be paragons of virtue to all of us.

I don't see why that is. Why do we care more about a politician's sex life, which is none of our business, but don't want him or her to be smart or well-educated or successful? What quality is truly more important to a leader? The ability to reason, to think important decisions through, to manage money well, to have a strong knowledge of world events, to know the customs and rules for other countries, and to be able to speak their languages - or the ability to keep it in your pants at all times?

I don't excuse Weiner's actions. It was sleazy. If it were my husband, he'd be sleeping in the doghouse and we don't have a dog. He's not my husband. What he did was make a bad decision, a bad judgment. It was just plain dumb. No one would argue that. What he did though, was not illegal. It was an act between consenting adults. No laws were broken. It was just a dumb act that one can hope his wife will divorce him over.

Why do we care so much about this? Why do the media and all of the talking heads want to make scandals like this into national issues? Why are politicians (and not all of them) resigning over sex issues, but not over things that truly matter to the American people? Is sending a bad sext worse than Watergate? Is it worse than selling arms for hostages and illegally diverting the funds to covert guerilla activities in another country? Is it worse than turning your back on intelligence that says a major terrorist attack on your country is imminent? Is it worse than doctoring intelligence in order to illegally go to war with another country so you can increase your "political capital"? America, where are your priorities?

The best argument against Weiner is that he showed bad judgment, and therefore will not make good decisions in office. I understand and even share that sentiment - at least part of the way. Do you believe the worst thing Nixon did was get caught? It's legitimate to question the ability of good decision making when someone blatantly does something dumb. Sure it is.

I still hate to see him go. Weiner was a pit bull (the good kind - without lipstick). He truly stood for the right issues. Perhaps that pot is calling the kettle black, but he was willing to go after the real questionable ethics violations in government. America needs more people in Congress like Weiner who will stand up for the right causes, who will make sure that president doesn't sell out to the right completely. I am afraid of who might replace him.

Speaking of ethics violations, was it a coincidence that this all came to light while Weiner was investigating Clarence Thomas? Maybe I'm just too much of a vast-right-wing-conspriacy theorist, but it always smelled fishy to me. It seems sex scandals often come up conveniently when a Democratic politician starts going after the wrong crooks. Eliot Spitzer anyone? (Yes, I know his activities were illegal and he needed to resign, and yet the man cleaned up Wall Street and since he has left office, Wall Street is as corrupt as ever.)

*You can be Jewish, too, but you can't be one of those liberal, non-practicing, Jewish-by-heritage, reform Jews. You have to be a regressive, temple-going Jew who buys into the party line. Conservative and Orthodox preferred, but don't wear a yarmulke because that's too initimdating and weird for normal Americans.

Odds and Ends

2011-05-17T05:50:00.000-07:00

Backin the early days of blogging my blog would always be full of random thoughts and observations. Sometimes I miss those prolific days. So today I present to you a compilation of some of the dumb stuff that's been on my mind lately.

The Paradox of Men

I'll never understand why some situations bother guys and others don't.

Brown ring in the toilet and yellow stains on the rim? No problem!

Inch-thick layer of dust on the furniture? What dust?

Mildew all over the ceiling? It's a garden!

A pair of stockings hanging out to dry in the shower? EW YUCK! HORRIBLE! TAKE IT AWAY NOW!

Pet Food

Am I the only one scratching her head at these commercials for seemingly "gourmet" pet food?

They're always showing these beautiful cuts of meat and fresh vegetables (odd considering cats and dogs are mostly carnivorous).

We're talking about animals who will eat garbage, rodents, feces, and vomit. Cats are gross. Dogs are even grosser.

Why, if cats and dogs will eat all manner of disgusting things willingly, and even enthusiastically, would we waste our delicious, high-end people food on them? They clearly don't notice the difference.

End of the World?

There is a religious group out there that is predicting with certainty that the world will end on Saturday.

What does it mean, "the world will end"? In what way is it ending? Is it the end of the human race, or will all life die out? Is it the literal destruction of the planet? Is it simply a way of saying that something about our society will change and life will end as we know it?

How exactly will life on this earth be wiped out? Will there be a series of nuclear strikes? Will it be even more natural disasters (they have been happening rather frequently lately) that may not kill us all outright, but will eventually kill us from starvation, or murdering each other over remaining resources. Will the Christian God just smite all of us unbelievers with lightning bolts and rapture the rest? Is Saturday the date that the Vogons have set for demolition of Earth to make way for a new hyperspace byapass.

If you're going to try to scare me with prophecies of the world ending, at least you could be a bit clearer on the subject. After all, if it's only people being wiped out, I want to know that my horses will be taken care of once I'm gone. Perhaps I should leave the stall doors open when I leave the barn on Saturday night so they won't be trapped starving in their stall and can live on grass for a while?

Wave the Flag If You Must, But Please Don't Hide Behind It

2011-05-02T08:10:00.000-07:00

Nearly 10 years later, Osama Bin Laden is dead.

Okay guys. Pack it in. Turn off the lights and close the door behind you.

Wait a minute. Every child knows that when Mommy and Daddy turn out the lights and close the door behind them, the monsters come out of the closet and out from under the bed.

10 years ago I watched a news special where Pakistani and Afghani intellectuals were interviewed about Islam's hostility to the west. Where does it come from?

The answer was pretty universal. The US likes to help, likes to intervene, but only to pursue its own ends. The US was more than happy to help Afghanistan rid itself of Soviet rule, but once they accomplished this, the country was thrown to the wolves.

In order to overthrow Soviet rule, in its single-minded puruist of defating communism, the US supported the very people who made Afghanistan what it is today. Our policies had a lot to do with the creation of Osama Bin Laden. Not long ago I was watching an 80s-era James Bond movie where much of the action took place in Afghanistan. The Mujahadeen were the good guys! It was all about defeating communism by any means necessary without any thought to the consequences.

Such consquences there were too! The Taliban took over and ruled the people of Afghanistan with an iron fist. The US government did little to keep them in check because Afghanistan was prime real estate for oil pipelines and we wanted to stay on friendly terms with their leaders. Until that fateful day in September, our government seemed to care more about whether or not they blew up a Buddha statue in the desert than it did about women being denied medical care because they were not allowed to leave their homes or see male doctors (or be female doctors). I can still remember Laura Bush making some speech justifying our attacking Afghanistan by listing the number of crimes against humanity committed by the Taliban. I wanted to smack her since human rights groups have been wanting the government to pay attention to these issues for years!

So now that we have our revenge on Osama Bin Laden, do we just pack it in and let the Afghanis duke it out for themselves? Either way it seems like a losing proposition. If we leave, the country could plunge into deeper chaos and there will be more loss of rights and loss of lives. If we stay, American lives are lost as well, civilians could very well continue to die at our hands, and more American resources will be drained away when they are despeartely needed at home.

With his death at American hands, Bin Laden is now officially a martyr. It could be said that he was attacked in his own home. His followers everywhere will now want to avenge him. Do you think Al Queda is going to quietly go away with its tail between its legs because Americans have flexed their mighty muscle and showed them who is really in charge? This is not a happy ending my friends. This is a potentially a terrifying beginning.

I can't celebrate the way others are celebrating. I'm not going to wave the flag and sing God Bless America over a single act of revenge (for one God Bless America is a crappy song and a blight on the memory of the great Irving Berlin). It's not my nature to celebrate anyone's death. I consider myself to be a pacifist. A life that once walked the planet has been extinguished.

What's worse is that death is just that. It's death. It's final. There is nothing more than can be done to punish Bin Laden. We have made him a martyr. He's never truly paid.* Those with any sort of religious belief take comfort that he will be punished in Hell, but that doesn't do it for me. I don't believe in Hell. I'm pretty skeptical about any sort of afterlife. As far as I'm concerned, he got off easy.

It's not just my own discomfort about celebrating someone's death that bothers me. It's the idea that we are a people are making such a public celebration. How does that make us look on the world stage? Are we any better than the folks in Palestine partying in the streets on September 11th? Aren't we better than that? Is the US above barbarianism?

I'm glad that he was properly buried. Our leaders have shown enough class to say that we are not going to stoop to acts of hatred and disrespect. We are not our enemies. I think we made a decent statement to the rest of the world by doing that.

There has been a lot of talk now about how Bin Laden was able to hide so well in plain sight. It's an easy answer - money. Bin Laden had millions. Yes, his assets were supposedly frozen, but I'm sure his network of people were able to hide some of it. I have no doubt locals were paid off to stay silent. I would imagine low-level government officials were paid off to say nothing and look the other way. He knew how to take advantage of desperate people. That's one of the ways Al Queda grew so enormous in the first place. I'm sure anyone who tried to defy him was quickly done away with as well.

Many people feel avenged today. Many feel relieved. If Bin Laden's death brings you peace, then I'm happy for you. I am happy to see an era of fear coming to a close. I just hope that this isn't the beginning of something more, and that there will be no counterfanaticism here in the US. Let us keep finding productive and peaceful ways to move forward.

Peace out.

*Years ago it was written somewhere that the ultimate punishment for Bin Laden would be to spirit him away to an undisclosed hospital and give him a sex change operation then forcing him to live under the Taliban. Now that would be fitting punishment!

My Thoughts on Tomorrow's Big Nuptials

2011-04-28T05:41:00.000-07:00

When Charles married Diana I was 11 years old and more than eager to wake up early and see the festivities. I have always loved weddings and certainly one of that magnitude was an extremely exciting event for me. This was like a fairytale - a real prince was marrying his new princess. What could be more beautiful?

Or maybe not. Being a member of royalty doesn't guarantee you a happy marriage in the real world.

Will I watch the wedding of William and Kate? Chances are if I'm awake I will turn on the news and take a gander. I'd like to see the procession (horses!) and her dress. I don't have any intention of hanging on every word.

So many thoughts have gone through my head about this wedding, about why we care so much, and about the future of the monarchy that I really had to blog about it. I have a few different topics on my brain.

Fairytales

Is this wedding a fairytale? I keep hearing it referred to as such. Let's stop for a minute and consider what a fairytale is.

In essence a fairytale is a made-up story that incorporates some kind of enchantment or mythical creature, often incorporating some kind of moral message. Young girls favor stories of young women - some of whom are already princesses and some who are in poor and helpless - marrying princes. We have to remember there are other types of fairy tales as well. Some tell stories of revenge. Some tell stories of abandonment (think of Hansel and Gretl). Some are stories that end with disappointment and loss (like the original Little Mermaid). Not every story is going to end with the phrase, "They lived happily ever after," but all too often it's what we expect.

Were Charles and Diana a fairytale? In 1981 Charles was in this thirties and the Royal Family was looking for Charles to settle down respectably and continue the bloodline. Diana was a good choice. Although not of royal blood (I would guess royal spouses are harder to find these days if you don't want to keep inbreeding) she was of noble blood with plenty of royalty in her background. She was a starry-eyed young virgin who was naive enough to believe Charles was marrying her for love alone. She was the perfect spouse for Charles because she was so easily molded into the wife the royal family wanted her to be. Her obvious sweetness made her the darling of the media and the masses.

There were no enchantments in that marriage, but certainly a few manipulations. Diana never had the happily ever after she sought. I suppose there was a moral to the story though. She matured, came into her own, and demanded the life, the love, and the respect she deserved. She learned a hard lesson in marrying Charles and I think the Royal Family learned a lesson as well.

Are William and Kate a fairytale? I don't know what enchantments might have been behind their courtship (I would assume none), but it seems far more conventional than your typical royal engagement. They went to school together. They dated for years. They became engaged. It bears more resemblance to the peasant way of doing things than it does to that of a romantic story or even of a typical royal betrothal.

I suppose there are those who would argue that the fairytale lies in the fact that she is a commoner. She is not only not royal, but she isn't even noble like Diana. There is something ordinary about her.

How ordinary is she really? The press makes it sound as if she came from a very humble background. Her parents own a party rental business - so commonplace. However, her parents' business is a million-dollar business. She is not poor by any means. Remember she attended the same schools as William. Her bloodlines might be unimpressive, but if she can afford to attend the same boarding school as royalty, she's not doing so badly. If some girl from a council estate who had a very slim chance of ever rubbing shoulder with William suddenly met him and won his heart, I'd say it was a fairytale, since there would have to be some kind of magical intervention for that to take place. For William to marry Kate? Pretty typical.

One thing does make for a nice story though. I learned recently that Kate was badly bullied by a group of girls at school when she was in her early adolescence. It was so bad she had to switch schools. I'm sure most young women of her generation dreamed of marrying Williams, so she can really laugh at those bullies now. Go Kate!

Obession?

Why are Americans so obsessed with the British monarchy? We fought a war in order to rid ourselves of that monarchy. When the Constitution was drafted, the authors wisely did away with inherited titles. Everyone has the same opportunities in America (in theory anyway). Your bloodlines are not as important as the work you do. These are some of the core values this country was founded on .

Still we love the monarchy.

As stated in the previous section, kings and queens and princes and princesses are the stuff of stories and legends. Americans have come to venerate royalty because it seems exciting and romantic and glamorous to us. Kings and queens really do exist in the flesh – today! Wow!

I once saw a magazine in a doctor’s office that was devoted to royal watching. It was quite a revelation to me to know that there are Americans out there who are so obsessed with the British royalty that they watch their every move. They don’t just care about Charles and William and Kate and Harry. They know every royal aunt, uncle and cousin for three generations. The magazine tells of their histories, their relations to the Queen, their life stories. We see them at various charitable and family functions, impeccably dressed and correct in every form of etiquette. Most of it is pretty boring, but the attention given to these people is impressive.

I’m someone who can’t stand tradition just for tradition’s sake. I believe the world needs regular shaking up. Despite this, I still can’t avoid feeling a sense of awe when seeing these people. They inhabit a world that is nothing like mine. They still live in a world where people dress for dinner and eat off china that might have also served Queen Victoria. They attend events that probably existed in medieval times. They can trace their ancestry back to the beginning of the last millennium. What do we have in the United States that even compares to this?

On my first visit to London I visited Westminster Abbey and the Tower of London. Of course at the Tower I had to see the crown jewels. Prior to entering the room that houses the crown jewels you go into a room where they show you a video of Elizabeth’s coronation. The ceremony consisted of her being presented with the crown, scepter, and orb that were the symbols of her position. Then I went into the display room and saw that crown, that orb, and that scepter. I imagined just how many kings and queens over the centuries had been presented with these same symbols. In Westminster Abbey I saw the coronation throne and again felt the stories of the centuries in its history.

I compared this to a presidential inauguration. The inaugural traditions are the same, but there is nothing passed on from president to president. I always imagined that they used the same Bible for the ceremony. I had believed that Obama swore on the same Bible was George Washington. I was a little surprised to find out that he swore on the same Bible as Lincoln, but no other president other than Lincoln had sworn on that Bible. There are no symbols of office passed on. We have the National Archives, which houses our most important documents like the Declaration of Independence (back to the idea that we threw off the monarchy) but nothing than be passed on from leader to leader.

The wedding of William and Kate also provides a certain fascination for Americans because our culture is so wedding-obsessed. I admit to being someone who loves weddings (and no that doesn’t make me any less of a feminist nor does mean I was a bridezilla at my own wedding) and so I do have an interest in seeing how this one comes off. In our culture we tend to associate weddings with romance and happily-ever-after, so this wedding is going to be seen as one of the most romantic gestures ever. Plus, it’s like an episode of Platinum Weddings on steroids. What will people do when tradition reigns supreme and money is no object? William and Kate have stated their wedding will not be quite as extravagant as Charles and Diana’s, but I’m sure it will be quite over-the-top by the standards of most normal American weddings.

It’s not important for me, but it could be fun to see. If I wake up early enough, I’ll watch it, but I’m not setting an alarm for 4 AM.

What next?

The British aren’t as interested in their monarchy as Americans are. They don’t care that much about this wedding. Like the American colonials, they’re sick of the Royal Family growing fat on their taxes. The British monarchy doesn’t really do much except act as official figureheads. I give them credit for being actively involved in the military. Leading your people into battle on the field is something American politicians don’t do. The Royal Family does do its traditional duty in military leadership – for what that’s worth. Queen Elizabeth worked as a mechanic during WWII. Beyond that, they really don’t serve much of a function. They preserve a tradition – and tradition doesn’t always have a place in an evolving society. They want to get rid of the world Americans crave.

The house of Windsor has seen more than its share of dysfunction in the last century. As it desperately tries to hold onto its power and prestige, the modern world interferes around it.

Nothing drove home that point more than the movie The Queen. I really saw how Queen Elizabeth is a woman caught between major family scandals.

At a family dinner in recently years the topic turned to Princess Diana and how if it weren’t for Wallis Simpson, she would still be alive. After all, if King Edward had not insisted on marrying her, the line of succession would have gone to him. The whole mess with Charles and Diana never would have happened. Of course if the line of succession had been different, Charles would not have had the same pressure to marry, or to marry a certain type of woman. Charles would likely have just been Camilla’s lover until she divorced and would have likely quietly married her at some point without anyone but serious royal-watchers knowing or caring. Diana would just be some random noblewoman that no one but her peers would really be aware of, although she might have gained fame as a philanthropist. I’m sure she would have married some rich businessman after spending enough years single to be old enough to have a more realistic grasp on marriage.

I think of the abdication of Edward VIII as ancient history, but he was Elizabeth’s uncle. He was alive when I was born and his wife lived long enough for me to be aware of who she was. His actions must have had a very strong influence on how Elizabeth has tried to handle the current scandals and affairs and marriages. In The Queen Elizabeth remarked that her father, unprepared to handle the stress of being king (reflected in The King’s Speech), died a premature death, placing her in a position of power before she felt ready.

I’m sure that in centuries past, none of this stuff would have shook the foundations of the Royal Family to the ground this way. Thanks to the nonstop news media and information-hungry royalty fans, the dirty laundry is aired in public in a way it never has been. Once upon a time kings and princes had women by the truckload and scores of mistresses. Now suspicions of a single infidelity set fingers wagging. The public seems so hungry to believe that royalty will engage in the true, faithful love of storybooks and romance novels. Tabloid reporters are hungry to catch them in the act. A king can’t just have a mistress, buy her an apartment or country house, and then quietly spend time at her place while the queen attends to palace matters. People hold him to a higher standard. Royalty has to marry for love and be faithful to that love.

The happy ending of William and Kate is yet to be written. They had a much more conventional courtship. Unless his father abdicates (and some say he will) he is not going to sit on the throne for a very long time, so there is little pressure for him to marry and produce another heir. He and Kate had a long courtship where they met the way most commoners meet – at school. They fell in love in college, moved on with their real lives, had their ups and downs, and decided they cared enough to make it permanent. It seems like a wise and mature way to go about it. Kate is likely painfully aware of what she’s in for thanks to the tragic story of her late mother-in-law. She made the choice to sign up for that life, so she must be determined to handle it. She has spent the past few years devoting her life to William. Let's hope she can keep that up.

I wish them luck. Maybe the family will find some peace.

The Fitness Buzzword I’m Sick Of

2011-04-21T06:51:00.000-07:00

What the heck is a “core”?

Well, I know it’s the part of an apple you eat around and toss. It’s also the part of the tomato you cut out. It’s the ball we believe is at the center of the earth and it’s made of iron and nickel.

Do we have a body part called a core? If so, what is it?

According to my Core Rhythms DVDs, the core is the band of muscles above the hips, front and back: Rectus abdominus, obliques, and the erector spinae muscles.

Kevin’s P90X DVDs has a core workout that seems to involve the entire torso as it contains exercises like pushups, which also engage pectorals, biceps, and triceps.

Certain faddish exercise classes I have taken (whose name I will not mention for fear of offending its devotees) are obsessed with the word “core” and seem to focus mostly on the front of the body: rectus abdominus, obliques, hip flexors, and some hip adductor and abductor. The back muscles are hardly engaged at all as much of the work is done lying on the floor.

The idea that one must engage the abdominal muscles in order to stabilize the trunk is hardly a new concept. Everyone from powerlifters to ballet dancers have known this for centuries. My ballet teacher in college used to call the belly the “power button” while exercise instructors have always started classes with the command, “Abs are tight.” In order to hold your spine straight and tall through an exercise, we must engage several muscles. Although it can be helpful to strengthen individual body parts, we have to remember that real life movement integrates all body parts as a whole. To remember to engage one’s abs is one way to insure optimal integration.

I suppose that’s why these “core” statements drive me crazy. It’s very easy for an instructor to say, “I will make your core stronger,” because there is no one set definition of a core. Your core is stronger? How? Which muscles are you referring to? In what measureable ways are they stronger? Is there any scientific evidence that one method of working these muscles works better than any other? Are you strengthening your core at the expense of other muscles? For example, if you are working mostly lying on your back, how do you address the imbalances in your body as you address your anterior muscles while resting the posterior muscles?

Core has become a marketing tool, a gimmick. It’s one I find almost insulting. Rather than talk about muscles and the ways they can be strengthened, we talk about “core” which sounds sort of new-agey and unthreatening and unscientific. That seems to make the term less intimidating for the supposedly uneducated masses (especially women who are supposed to be threatened by muscle talk). It also takes away a certain responsibility from those selling core workouts. If there is no universal definition of core, no measurable way to gage core strength, then whoever is selling you exercises doesn’t have to deliver much.No one has to back up any claims of improving core strength when core is so esoteric and undefined.

Does a specified core workout work your trunk stabilizers better than any other workout? The truth about muscles is that they all function the same. If you work a muscle to fatigue, eventually it will grow stronger as long as you fatigue it consistently. Your muscles don’t know if you are using a dumbbell, a kettlebell, a band, a weight stack, or some spring-loaded contraption. It just knows it is being worked. Some exercises will work it harder than others. Everything about your muscles – the size, the shape, the length, the flexibility – are all mostly determined by genetics. No amount of core instruction will turn an endomorph into an ectomorph. You won't get six-pack abs if you don't do some serious adjustment to your diet.

Rather than worry about your core, worry about making sure your workouts are balanced (don’t sacrifice your very important back muscles because you feel your abdominals are the be-all and end-all of your workouts). Consider the functionality of the moves you do. How much of your entire body are you using?

Are you unsure about how integrative your workout is? I have one piece of advice: stand up! Isolating muscles while lying on the floor or sitting on a weight machine is not going to incorporate your whole body. If you are standing up, all of your muscles are working to keep your body erect, plus you are working against gravity.

Now if I could only eliminate the word “toning.”

Who Will Make the Sacrifice?

2011-04-07T06:58:00.000-07:00

The national deficit is rising. State deficits are rising. I’m not a math expert, but I understand why it happens. The government spends more money than it collects.

There are two solutions. The first is to collect more revenue. The other is to stop spending.

The most palatable solution for your average shmoe is to simply spend less and not raise taxes. It seems so simple. No one wants to pay more taxes, so let’s just cut everything.

Everyone has to make a sacrifice. We all agree that sacrifices must be made. The problem is that everyone feel s that everyone else needs to make a sacrifice. “Don’t make me give up my benefits or pay taxes. That’s for the people who don’t deserve what they get.”

In Wisconsin the governor decided that the highest income residents of the state were making too much of a sacrifice. They needed a break, so he gave them a giant tax cut. The next thing he knew he was faced with a giant budget shortfall. No one said the wealthiest state residents should consider giving up their tax cuts and pay the taxes they had been paying all along to redress this deficit. No. Instead the governor said, “Let’s make it harder for public employees to make more money or receive more benefits.”

Are public employees worthy of what they receive? Do they deserve benefits? Do they deserve the right to protest against their employers if they feel they are being paid or treated unfairly? The government of Wisconsin would say no. Non-government employees say no. It seems the belief is that is they don’t deserve it. Their jobs are expendable. They are underworked and overpaid. Let’s make them sacrifice so the rest of us don’t have to pay taxes.

How many of you would want their jobs ? Could you be a teacher? Could you be a social worker? Could you be a psychologist in a state-run mental hospital? How would you feel walking a mile in those shoes? What makes you think government service jobs are so easy that they’re not worthy of the pay you think they receive?

Throughout US history it is has been the taxes on the wealthiest that have built our infrastructure and our services. This seems unfair from a purely economic standpoint. Why is one group paying for the services for everyone? As the government has begun to offer more benefits and more services, it seems even more unfair. It almost seems like justice to put more tax burden on the middle class. It is the middle class that is at risk for having a catastrophic event cause them to become dependent on government assistance. It is the middle class that wants the best public schools. As for the lower classes, they obviously aren’t working hard enough, so they really don’t deserve anything, right?*

But let’s look at it from a less selfish standpoint. Everyone uses the infrastructure – rich or poor. Everyone benefits from an educated populace. Taxing the top tier of wealth in society has never resulted in a shift of wealth. The rich can pay taxes and still be rich.

How much money does anyone realistically want? If you have multiple homes, travel first class around the world, have a designer wardrobe, a garage full of high-end cars, and the knowledge that you will never want for any of the basics in life, how much more do you want? You live in a country that allowed you to amass wealth because of the freedoms it granted you. Why not give back? How much worse off would you be if you paid your fair share? You may benefit as much as the poor lazy slobs you claim are sponging off the taxes.

Corporations are now moving overseas to avoid paying any taxes at all.
American companies with American leaders are now ceasing to be American. These are companies that generate billions of dollars and yet they refuse to give any of it back. They don’t want to support the country that gave them a home. The CEOs will tell you they have no loyalty to their country. Their loyalty is to their profits and their shareholders. I suppose there is nothing morally wrong with that. Corporations are entitled to make as much legal profit as they like.

What I would like to know is why those of us who question this system, who say this kind of unchecked capitalism might not be ethically sound, are considered un-American? If I say I think it’s wrong to leave the country to avoid paying taxes, then I’m an evil socialist/communist who hates America. Somehow it is un-American to question companies who will say outright that they have no loyalty to America at all.

So no one will pay taxes. The top 1% of wealthholders will avoid paying taxes at all. The middle class doesn’t want to pay for the people they believe to be freeloaders, knowing that they might be a few paychecks or medical bills away from being freeloaders themselves. In an effort to make the budget balance, the Americans who need their services cut the least, will be the ones who suffer the most, the ones who have the least amount of power: children, the elderly, the disabled.

So even though all of us agree that something needs to be done to save this country, who out there is willing to make the sacrifices needed to do it? Many a patriot has said he will lay down his life for his country. Who among us will be a little less dramatic and lay out some cash?

*Just wanted to check that you read the sarcasm in that sentence.

Something Interesting I Noticed Yesterday

2011-03-01T07:41:00.001-08:00

For the past two or three years I have been making an effort to eat more cleanly. I want to cut way back on sugar and as many forms of processed food as possible. I haven't always been successful. (If I were more successful, I would likely be thinner.)

Even if I'm not always following the plan, one habit that has stuck is that I am a compulsive label reader. If I'm not eating something fresh, I will check the ingredients. If they don't meet certain criteria, I will put that product back on the shelf (well, usually I will).

Before my Connecticut office moved to its current location, the closest supermarkets to my office were Stew Leonards and Whole Foods. I often like to shop on my lunch hour to free up my evenings for other activities. Having convenient shopping near my office was important. I tended to shop at the Whole Foods because they had a greater variety of products. It also meant spending large amounts of money. Whole Foods - or Whole Paycheck as I like to call it - isn't cheap.

My office moved to a busier location and there is a Shop Rite nearby. It's a really large Shop Rite with a bountiful selection of products. They have a "natural" section where I can find many of the products I used to buy at Whole Foods but for less money. There are still certain things I like to buy at Whole Foods (like free-range meats) but I'm saving much more money not buying everything there.

This week I learned there is more than one way to comparison shop - and it's really bizarre.

My regular breakfast on weekdays is a homemade smoothie. I used to use protein powders in them, but I started worrying that they were too full of chemicals and flavorings. I decided to replace them with natural nut butters. Sometimes I used peanut, but Kevin recently found out he was allergic to peanuts (he's never had a symptom, but an allergist's test confirmed a peanut allergy). Almond butter is the only other completely natural nut butter on the market. Most other nut butters contain some other type of processed oil. Almond butter is the only nut butter that you can get unadulterated and unprocessed.

While searching for almond butter at Shop Rite I never found much of a selection. They had a few different types of peanut butter, but only two kinds of almond butter. The first kind was a national brand and was sweetened and homogenized. I also saw they carried a smaller "hippie" brand, Maranatha. It was unhomogenized, but the ingredient list said, "evaporated cane juice." In other words, a fancy name for sugar. I knew I had two choices if I wanted sugar-free almond butter. I could either suck it up and go to Whole Foods, or wait until the next time I could make it to the farmer's market where they have a vendor who sells homemade nut butters. Either way I could be paying ten bucks a jar.

Yesterday I want to Whole Foods in search of some free range chicken and some almond butter. Whole Foods has a much better nut butter selection and includes unsweetened almond butter. I was quickly able to find a jar. I think the store brand was sugar free. On a lower shelf I saw the Maranatha brand.

Curious, I picked up the jar of Maranatha almond butter and checked out the ingredients. I don't know why I thought this jar would be different from the ones in Shop Rite, but I decided to check anyway. Isn't Whole Foods supposed to be about being healthy and natural? Why would Whole Foods be selling a brand that pretends to be natural but is full of sugar?

The ingredient list on this jar of almond butter did not include any sugar.

So why is it that two different stores sell jars of an almost identical product but one has sugar and one doesn't? It's not as if the jar of almond butter without sugar is advertised as sugar free. The buyer has no idea if the product contains sugar or not unless she picks up the jar and reads the ingredient list. Clearly this company sells one type of product to one store and one to the other, or else the buyers for the respective stores feel the need to present a certain version of the product to the customers.

Is the assumption that Whole Foods is for the elite and Shop Rite is for the unwashed masses and the unwashed masses are a bunch of fat, sugar, grubbing cretins?

Is it assumed that if you care about the sugar content of your food, you will automatically shop at Whole Foods?

I surely can't be the only shopper out there who is concerned about her finances as well as her health.

Maybe the assumption is that if you are that concerned about your health, you will be willing to pay the extra money for the privilege. In a sense, that is what I just did.

Who is making these assumptions and why?

Of Course It Can't Be Easy!

2011-02-17T06:45:00.000-08:00

About a year ago I was beginning to notice my living room couch was looking a bit grubby. I had had that couch for over 10 years. I bought it for my first apartment. It was bound to not exactly be spotless. Even a professional steam cleaning didn't really keep it from showing its age. Sometime during the holidays it developed a rip. I was beginning to feel embarassed about my living room.

The couch's framework was still solid. It had held up well over the years. Rather than replace it, I thought it would be nice to just reupholster it. After all, it would not be likely I could sell, or even freecycle a grubby, ripped couch. I didn't want a big piece of furniture cluttering up the landfills. Besides,if we went for a new couch Kevin and I would have to sofa shop together and it would be hard to carve out the time to do so. Then we would be spending endless hours in furinutre stores trying to hash out our preferences. With reupholstery, I could take home swatch books and we could argue over them at our leisure. The responsible and easy thing to do would be to simply give the old couch a facelift.

There are several upholstery shops in my neighborhood. I suppose I should have done my research. I knew the oldest and most established on was very expensive (the fabrics they featured on their website tended to all be in the three-figure-per-yard numbers). I went to the one that had been in the neighborhood the second longest. I figured they had been around this long for a reason and they always seemed to have work. What could go wrong?

I took home some swatch books and picked out several that I liked. I like to think that Kevin and I have similar tastes, but I was suprised at how many things I liked that he didn't. He would often change his mind on some fabrics, saying he liked one in the evening, and wake up in the morning not liking it anymore. If you think that the argument is that I wanted girly colors and patterns while Kevin wanted manly brown leather, you are mistaken. Kevin definitely likes the light pastels and florals. We picked one we both liked and I returned to the store to let them know. The woman who I assumed is the owner/manager gave me what I thought was a rough figure for the cost of labor and we made an appointment for Raul to come and measure the couch and give me an estimate.

Tuesday night Raul showed up as promised. He looked at the couch and confirmed that it was a sleeper. He asked me what the cost I had been quoted at the store for the labor. I told him. He put that on a contract. Then he calculated the amount of yardage needed to cover the couch and calculated the cost per yard. He put that on the contract. Then he said he was taking the couch, asked me to sign the contract, and asked for a deposit on the fabric! Wait. I thought he was just coming to give me an estimate. I did not think he was going to take the couch and demand money that night.

At least we knew how much it would cost, so I called Kevin who wasn't home yet to see if he could live with that price. He was fine with it. I had to look at it this way, the job was going to be done and they were starting much sooner than I had expected. Yay. I had to put the entire cost of the fabric on my credit card then and there, but at least we had the total cost in writing.

The next day I get a phone call. Guess what? The fabric I want is backordered and won't be available until April. I have to pick something else right away because my couch has already been prepped (at least they work fast). I was back to the store for swatch books, hoping I could once again find something Kevin and I could both agree on.

What really irks me is that they didn't find out that the fabric was unavailalbe before they came and took my couch. What kind of stupid practice is that? Why not make a phone call before making the appointment to have the couch picked up? Well, that's a dumb question. They wanted to make sure I remained captive to them. If they told me right away that they didn't have the fabric I liked, I could just go to a competitor. With my couch already prepped, I can't even tell them to just bring it back. They're making sure my couch doesn't leave their store until THEY have done the job.

We're still deliberating over fabric swatches right now. I hope we find something we can live with soon. After all I don't want to just live with my couch. I want to love it.

Right now I have no couch in my living room. They took out the bed part since they won't need it for the reupholstery. I have just a folded up metal frame bed where my couch would be.

Once we pick this fabric and get the project rolling, I hope the job they do is good and it's reasonably fast or else I will make sure no one ever uses this place again.

I was actually thinking of asking them if they knew where I could get replacement mattresses for the bed. Although we bought a futon couch for the spare room last year, I do like having the extra bed. You never know when you might have extra guests (that happened just this summer for example). It's nice to have a nice clean couch, but guests will be sleeping on a 12-year-old mattress that wasn't all that comfortable to begin with. I think I'll look for other sources to try to find one.

What Does It Mean to Be Defriended?

2011-02-02T08:22:00.000-08:00

The element of sadness and rejection that can come from social networking sites, while it is not life disrupting, is an unfortunate, although I suppose unavoidable side effect of social networking.

I noticed in the last day or two that I hadn't seen any Facebook posts from a friend who used to post almost daily. Was he taking a break? Did he delete his account? There was an easy way to check. We have plenty of mutual friends, so I decided to search for him in my other friends' lists. Sure enough he showed up on their lists. Clearly he had decided he didn't want to be friends with me anymore and there is nothing I can do about that. I suppose if he said anything to me about it, nothing would have changed He would have had to have dealt with my arguments to the contrary that there was no reason why we shouldn't be friends. Obviously he felt there was a reason.

I don't defriend people often. I'm not a friend collector either. I generally accept most friend requests from people I know and occasionally from people I don't know who are connected to me by a reasonable number of degrees of separation. I have grown more selective in the past year or so. If I really had no positive interactions with you in high school and don't really care what you're doing now, and I suspect you just want to look at my photos and see what I'm up to, I am not likely to accept your friend request. (I have also made my photo albums public so I'm not as likely to receive friend requests from curiosity seekers anymore.) I have defriended maybe one or two people since joining Facebook. It's usually people I don't know very well (or even remember knowing) whose posts I don't like, and who never really interact with me in any sort of positive or negative way. I figure there isn't a point.

I disagree with a lot of people on Facebook. That doesn't mean I don't want to be friends with them. I like being friends with people for myriad reasons and I can find common ground and interact with many folks in positive ways despite the differences.

That's how I felt about my friend who defriended me. We were friends in college. We weren't close, but we had many classes and activities together and I was certainly fond enough of him in those days. I was very happy to be back in contact with him on Facebook.

We didn't see eye to eye on many things on Facebook. I generally ignored his posts I didn't like and all seemed peaceful. I also made sure that when he was down and out, that I was supportive and helpful. I know he was going through a lot. I don't know the whole story. I didn't know him well enough to pry. I just tried to let him know I was thinking of him and cared about his well being. Actually, I sometimes felt his posts indicated that he was going off the deep end and I cared enough to be concerned about that (but never said it to him directly).

I remember our last interaction. It was not a positive one. He didn't like a video I posted and took offense at it. I tried to argue that I didn't post it with him in mind. He kept wanting to argue that it was about him (either he didn't really watch it or he saw himself in it whether I saw him in it or not) and I finally just deleted his comments. I do that. When I feel things are just going to get too heated on a blog or posting, I delete all comments and just pretend nothing happened. Clean slate. Start fresh. Maybe he didn't see my deletion of his comments that way?

I started thinking about the number of times I've been defriended in the past. Both times were in my heavy MySpace days. Both were women who friended me first. I suppose they friended me because we were contemporaries with whom we shared some sort of common ground. I did my best to engage them. When they were down I wrote encouraging and helpful comments on their bulletins and blogs. Occasionally if I felt their political posts came from a dishonest place, I tried to say that perhaps it wasn't the nicest thing to post. Most of the time I tried to avoid engaging them in arguments.

I don't know if it was a coincidence or not, but these women, like my friend who recently defriended me on Facebook, were Christian. When I say Christian, I don't mean, "practices, or at least did practice, a Jesus-centered religion." I mean Christians, the type who talk about being saved. On my blogs I certainly say things that indicate I don't share their beliefs. I often post opinions that show strong opposition to their beliefs. I don't say these things to offend them personally, nor do I ever post my beliefs on their blogs and pages. They chose to read my blogs and chose to be offended by them, and then decided they didn't want to be friends with me anymore.

Was I too offensive? Did they feel I can't be swayed to their side, so why bother with me at all? Do they think I'm not a good person so I shouldn't be bothered with? Is the fact that I'm not Christian negate everything else about me that's good? Does the fact that my views may not be in total alignment with my now-ex-friend negate all of the good times we had together in college? I do have Christian (and I do mean Christian) friends who don't feel this way. I have friends who are Republicans and pea lovers and Glee watchers and cat haters. Somehow we all manage to get along.

Oh well. Life goes on. I can't dwell on stuff like this. I am grateful for the true friends who have stuck with me!

*****************************************************

Addendum: I had initially checked to see if he was still a FB member by seeing if he was still friends with one of our mutual friends and he was. I decided to see just how many of our mutual friends he was friends with on FB. The total number was 3.

So I have come to two conclusions. The first was that my assumption that we sort of ran in the same circles and had many mutual friends was erroneous. I assumed too much about our relationship in the first place.

The second is that we did have a lot of mutual friends, but he is defriending them all. I shouldn't take it personally.

Is There A Support Group For This?

2011-01-17T11:23:00.000-08:00

I was never much of a video game junkie. I never had an Atari or Intellivision or Colecovision or Nintendo while growing up. I never coveted a Playstation or an Xbox or even a Wii. It’s not that I never enjoyed any video games at all. I could geek it up with the best of them playing Infocom text adventure games like Zork. I had a few simple video games on my Apple IIE. In college I logged quite a few hours playing Tetris and Brickles in the Mac lab. Let us not forget the Lunatic Fringe screensaver that I found so irresistible every time I turned on Abbey’s computer in our dorm room. When my brother bought a Nintendo set of his own, I’d clock a few hours in his room getting cozy with Super Mario Brothers. In short, video games were always a great diversion, but they were never really a compulsion. They weren't something I wanted to spend all of my free time playing.

What is boils down to is never saw the appeal of having a big expensive setup exclusively for playing video games. How many hours did I want to log learning game controls just to shoot something or beat someone up? None of it really seemed worth the effort. Either I thought it was dull to just keep shooting things or bashing them over the head with a vacuum cleaner, or I was too intimidated by the more intellectual games that required some problem solving. I’d rather read a book, take a walk, channel surf, post mindless crap on Facebook, or put together a puzzle to pass my unscheduled time.

My name is Rachel and I am a Kinect addict.

Is it really possible to have your life change this radically in just a week?

I’m not sure when the Kinect was first introduced. I only know the first time I had ever heard of it was when a friend on Facebook mentioned she had just acquired one. She provided a link so I could see what she was talking about.

I had to admit it looked pretty cool. A few days later I saw a commercial for the Kinect. The actor in the commercial was wiggling and jumping and gyrating. It looked as if she was having a blast!

I think I said it best when the Kinect came up in conversation a few days later. I said to Kevin, “I want one of those.”

He’s a good husband. He took me at my word.

So I received a Kinect for Christmas along with a dance game. My father also gave me an Xbox karaoke game.

Life has not been the same since. Kevin and I tried out the Kinect Adventures that came with the set. Neither of us could get enough of the river raft game. The next day I discovered Rallyball. Rallyball is like human brickout. You just wale on these balls with any part of your body to knock down the blocks at the other end of the alley. You’re in a constant frenzy.

Yesterday on my lunch break I drove over to the Sports Authority for some new sneakers. On the way I spotted the sign for Best Buy. It lured me in like a siren song. I walked straight over to the video game department and came out with Adrenalin Misfits and Kinect Sports (Kevin had his eye on the latter).

One thing I never liked about gaming was coordinating the game controllers. I think that’s why I always stuck to certain games. I knew how to operate them. I hated having to deal with new buttons for new functions with every game. The Kinect eliminated the guesswork. I just move. If I move incorrectly, the game won’t go my way, but I’m always moving. You’re not a zombie with Kinect. You’re as active as a participant in a video game can be.

The games don't have the greatest selection of female avatars, but it’s kind of fun to not have one who looks like me. Sometimes I’m a sweet blonde. Sometimes I’m a sassy black woman. Sometimes I'm a Latina boxer. The female avatars have great bodies (even if they are cartoons), so it's sort of inspiring to keep watching them while I play. If I keep playing, I'll look like them. I especially want to be Emilia in Dance Central.

It used to be if I had some time I needed to waste, my first instinct was to turn on the TV or hit Facebook. Now I want to get up and play with my Kinect. I'm getting physical activity when I'm bored. Only good can come of this as far as I can see.

I can't wait to start playing with my friends as well. My karaoke game ended up defective, but I'm investing in a new one ASAP. I think it would be a blast to have impromptu karaoke parties, or if no one feels like singing, play a little virtual bowling without having to wear ugly pre-used shoes.

Kevin and I haven't gone head-to-head on any games yet, but I think that's where the real fun will begin. We both love the boxing game. *evil grin*

You Know What I'm Going To Do This Week?

2010-12-22T13:44:00.001-08:00

I'm going to do what people have been doing for centuries this time of year. I'll be doing something that humans have done since they first began to notice the cyclical nature of of the universe and the patterns inherent in nature.

I'm going to celebrate a day known in today's culture as the national holiday of Christmas.

On the modern western calendar it's called Christmas, but humans have celebrated this day for centuries before that. We all know winter is rough. But even though we have hit the darkest days, we know light is returning. So let's get out the party trappings, eat lots of food, celebrate with family, and give each other gifts for no real reason. Just celebrate because we're alive and on this earth and everything on this earth tends to go according to patterns. Sometimes the universe is chaotic and unfair and nature is unpredictable, but there are some things that are reliable. As of today, the days grow longer. It always does every year. Yay!

Why must people try to spoil my fun? Yes, I know it's called Christmas currently and is meant to mark a religious event (although historically inaccurate). I know I'm not going to church on Saturday and I know I'm a skeptic on religious matters. Why does that bar me from celebrating?

Maybe I'm not celebrating the exact same thing you're celebrating, or celebrating in the same way, but that doesn't make it wrong. I don't tell you that you're wrong for celebrating the way you do. I don't say that it's bad or hypocritical to co-opt Solstice/Yule/Saturnalia, etc. I think you should enjoy your holiday in whatever way pleases you the most. I will do the same for myself and my family. My expression of a holiday isn't meant to denigrate your religion, or stop you from having a religious observance. It's just me, doing what I do on a day that's been designated for it.

If you don't like the way I celebrate Christmas, then don't celebrate it with me! It's that simple. Of course I would be very happy if you did. You might find out my celebration isn't so bad. I think I'm a fun person. I have a nice family. The food is always good in my house. Try it my way. You might like it.

Just don't tell me I have no right to do what I do because it doesn't follow the confines of your religion. You don't have to celebrate it my way. I don't have to celebrate it your way. In the end, if we do it right, we all still enjoy the day and that's what counts.

Go in peace, my friends.

Libera Canto

2010-12-17T13:27:00.000-08:00

I just finished my second semester of singing class this week.

It has been an interesting journey in this class. The idea of Libera Canto shouldn’t even have to be a technique. It almost seems like something a singer unlearns in a lifetime of singing. I still had a hard time with it.

My first session of the class had me thinking of who I am as a singer. I understood that my teacher wanted me to understand what it meant to just sing a song, and not perform it. There really is a difference. We were doing all kinds of strange techniques to make this happen.

I still wasn’t sure if it was working. Was I really getting anything out of the class? My singing rarely received any individual attention. During the 6 weeks of the course, most of us only were able to sing our chosen songs solo once or twice. Was it helping me?

After the October disaster with the Harrison Players, I knew I hadn’t learned nearly enough.

I liked the teacher. I liked the other students. After meeting for a few sporadic, informal classes over the summer, I decided to try another semester as LMCCE was offering it again.

We kept working on the same techniques of course. There was lots of bodily and facial relaxation involved, and the usual exercises of taking the words of a song and making them into unintelligible nonsense.

Somehow it started to click. Brenda, my teacher often talked about singing as if you were a “drunk puppy” telling a story to other drunk puppies. Open your mouth. Wiggle your jaw. Stick your tongue out. Let the lyrics be sloppy but enthusiastic. I might be singing at home or in my car and a note would trouble me. I’d back off and go to the drunk puppy mode. I sang so sloppily I could hear the late Prof Stites (former Elizabethtown College choir director and King of Consonants) spinning in his grave. Suddenly things did feel freer. Notes were less difficult. I would gradually bring diction back into the song, gently closing my mouth around the words.

I began to learn that I could really open my mouth up and let the song flow, and still sing with diction. If I sang notes instead of words, the words would eventually follow the notes. I didn’t have to close my mouth and clamp my jaw and stiffen my tongue tightly around every word. I also found it easier to find a note when I made thinking of the note my priority rather than performing the song. The notes won’t always be right, but I can sing the song as if I didn’t care and it wouldn’t be so terrible.

I wondered if I had come far enough that I no longer needed the class, but I think I still have a little way to go. For one thing, I am just not at the stage where I can really make a song resonate with me, both physically and emotionally. If I don’t feel the emotion of the song, how will anyone else (hence why no one laughed when I sang my song in October)?

During a recent class one of my classmates sang a beautiful version of The Christmas Song (the song most people think is titled “Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire”). She varied it – played with it. After she sang it, Brenda complimented the “musicality” of her voice. I remembered my own attempts to put a few spins on the same song and had another flop. I couldn’t handle it. The whole thing was forced. I want musicality. I want that playfulness to be natural and beautiful.

I guess that’s why I know now that I’ll be joining the spring semester of this class. Now that I can understand a bit more how to let my voice flow more freely, I can stop being in my head so much when I sing and just find what I’m really meant to sound like. Where is my own “musicality”?

You Can't Say I Didn't Try to Do Good

2010-12-10T12:15:00.000-08:00

This morning when I left my car and headed into the office, I left the bag containing my day's snack foods in it. I had an apple and some nuts.

At lunch I realized I still had a teensy bit of Christmas shopping left to do (I know I said I was finished, but one of my gifts isn't going to make it, so I had to find something else for this person). I went out to the Borders two exits up the highway from my office to find something.

When I exited the highway I saw a homeless man standing at the traffic light. I used to come through this area quite often and that man has been there many times before. I realized that I still had my bag of snacks with me. I thought it was some kind of cosmic coincidence. I had food in my car so I could give it to someone who needed it more than I did.

The light was red, so it was the perfect opportunity to offer my food to this man. I rolled down the window. He looked at me expectantly. I shoved the bag out the window and asked, "Would you like an apple?" He shook his head and gesticulated a lack of interest.

I'm a pretty sympathetic person. I know that I really have no idea how many paychecks separate me from the breadlines. I'm not heartless. I know hard times can happen to any of us. I want to help. I want to give someone who appears to be in need the benefit of the doubt.

My position is this: If you're truly hungry, you will accept food. I'm not saying I never give money. I just prefer not to give money because I have no idea how that money will be spent. I'm not buying some homeless person's cigarettes/booze/drugs. I'm happy to help fill an empty belly. I just want to make sure that's what the person really wants. I'd rather offer food. If you need it, you'll take it.

Am I wrong to feel a bit miffed in this case? I've been told that homeless people don't often like to be given hard fruits like apples because they often don't have the teeth to properly eat them. Despite this, I have seen homeless aid organizations give away free lunches that contain apples. I once gave an apple to a homeless person in the past and he took it gratefully.

On my way home I bought some soup for my lunch. Maybe I should have bought an extra one for that guy. How could he not want hot soup when he was standing outside on this freezing cold day? If had done that and he had refused it, I know I'd never take him seriously again.

If I'm on that road again and I have something soft to eat in my car in the future, maybe I'll give it a test. I don't want to lose my faith in humanity, especially in my own, but even I have my limits.

Decoration Equity

2010-12-09T05:44:00.000-08:00

Hey look! I'm not doing the typical Christmas rant this year and am handling another topic entirely.

When I was a young twentysomething, making my way in the working world, I found myself working part time in a real estate office one December.

One afternoon the brokers began putting up the holiday decorations in the office. There were standard decorations with garlands and trees and pictures of Santa. The brokers wanted to be as ecumenical as possible and put up some decorations more evocative of Hanukkah as well. This also led to more discussion about how Christmas-y the Christmas decorations should be. Should they put up a crèche? They decided that both a crèche and a menorah were considered religious symbols. If you had one, you had to have the other and they weren’t sure how religious they should be. In the end, the decorations stayed with trees, santas, and pictures of dreidls (because a dreidl is a game and doesn’t have any real religious meaning behind it). Most of the brokers were Jewish, so I thought their reasoning was fair.

A year or two later I was working for a different company. December came and the decorations came out of storage. Most of the decorations were the kind one associates with Christmas. We had a cheap fake tree and pictures of Santa and probably some cheap garlands. We didn’t have many decorations for the tree, so we covered it with the merchandise the company sold. (We sold advertising tschotskes like pens and key chains – not the most festive or attractive stuff in the world.) Decorations couldn’t be more generic, but it was still “Christmas” in the traditional sense. A small contingent of employees lobbied for Hanukkah decorations. They made do for a while with some pictures of dreidls.

One day a coworker who was a devout Catholic put up a small, nicely decorated tree next to her desk. Beneath the tree was a crèche. She had it up for a day or two before she was ordered to take it down. She wasn’t sitting in the main part of the office. Customers would never see it. She was still told it was “offending” people. A day or two later a menorah appeared in the conference room. I felt a bit bad for my coworker. Why was she not allowed to display something religious when other religions were?

Right now in the lobby of my apartment building there is a Christmas tree. It’s a tall, tastefully decorated tree with no religious ornaments at all. There is no crèche to be seen. There is not even an angel. Next to the tree, on a table covered by a blue cloth printed with Stars of David, is an electric menorah, with a bulb lit for each of those 8 Crazy Nights. It is flanked by two teddy bears dressed in yarmulkes and tallises. One holds a Torah scroll and the other holds a dreidl.

There are two things I’ve learned from these various displays.

The first is that I may have to concede that the War on Christmas people may have a teeny-tiny-minuscule point. Christmas, a holiday celebrated in a religious way by what is likely a majority of the members of the majority religion in this country, is being a tad constricted publicly.

The second is that it’s really hard to decorate for Hanukkah. Can we decorate for any Jewish holiday using anything that’s the color of the Israeli flag? Come on! Teddy bears in yarmulkes? We have exactly two symbols that most shlubs will associate with the holiday. Inclusion is cool, but how does that inclusion happen when you’re talking about a minor holiday that isn’t exactly rich with seasonal symbolism?

What does a good holiday display need and how do we make it for everyone? How many holidays do Americans celebrate this time of year? Are we supposed to include Ramadan and Diwali? Do Muslims and Hindus have special decorations for these holidays? If they do, they must keep them in the house and aren’t compelled to show the whole neighborhood their holiday displays.

Now that I think of it, I rarely ever seen homes decked out in millions of pale blue lights and giant electric menorahs and inflatable dreidls in the neighborhood. I know plenty of Christians who like displaying electric menorahs in the window just to show how open-minded they are. My Catholic grandmother had one. I don't see much else in the way of Hanukkah decorations.

As I go along this line of thought, I have to ask why are we so pushed to decorate everything in sight anyway. It's not enough to put up a tree or some symbols of the season in our homes. We need reminders of the season everywhere we go. It's as if we're afraid we'll forget the holiday if we don't decorate everything everywhere. Not only do we need constant reassurance that it's Christmas, but we also have to make sure everyone is reminded too.

I suppose there is a point to this. Christmas and all of its trappings can generate some serious warm fuzzy feelings. Those decorations can engender a sense of joy and festiveness. We want to be surrounded by that joy. We want everyone else to feel that joy too. If everyone is feeling those feelings then we'll all get together and try to love one another.

The problem is that it doesn't always work. Not everyone will automatically feel festive if they see these decorations. They may not celebrate Christmas and don't enjoy being pressured to share the joy. Sure they can try to ignore it, but it's not always easy when it's in your face. If you don't celebrate Christmas, you may not want to feel compelled to enjoy the season. Also, those who are very sad or depressed or suffering may find the relentless effort at cheer and good will to be even more depressing.

The only thing decorator-happy people can do it try to represent everyone. That's not easy when there are a fair number of holidays to go around (hence the term "The Holidays") and more than one religion to deal with. Certain holiday symbols are often said to be offensive, even though their intention is never to offend, but only to represent a certain set of beliefs.

Is it really an offense, for example, to simply display a nativity scene? I don't really celebrate Christmas in any sort of Christian way anymore, but I don't think a creche is "offensive". I find them sort of fascinating really. Some are lovely works of art. Some are hilariously tacky. I find how the scene is depicted to be interesting. Who are the characters and how many of them are there? How many shepherds? Is the Little Drummer Boy included? How diverse are the players? Is one of the Wise Men black? Do Jesus, Mary, and Joseph look properly swarthy and semitic, or do they look as if the came off the assembly line at Mattel properly outfitted with golden hair and blue eyes? (Now that I think of it, while Mary and Jesus tend to be depicted with light brown hair and blue eyes, Joseph is always dark haired.) If a nativity scene is meant to convert me, it's doing a lousy job.

No one takes similar offense when Hanukah decorations are on public display. In every single situation I mentioned in this post, I seem to be the only one who noticed that Hanukah was the only holiday allowed to display its religious symbolism publicly. While I'm sure there are Christians who are fuming over this perceived inequality, would they ever go so far as saying they are "offended"? I would think not. After all, Christianity couldn't exist without Judaism and even if they're not lighting Hanukah candles, they know Jesus probably did.

Then there is Santa. Why Santa? Santa is supposed to be a secular figure, but he really isn't. Sure there are some right-wing Christian wackos who claim Santa is just an anagram of Satan, but it would be incorrect. Santa means Saint or holy . Santa Claus is just a bastardization of St. Nicholas (Niklaus or "Klaus" in the Northern European traditions from which modern Santa legends were born). St. Nicholas's feast day is in early December. It just made sense to integrate him him into Christmas just as it made sense to integrate yule logs and Christmas trees and a major holiday on the Solstice. When you think about it, Santa is probably the most Christian decoration you put into a holiday display with the exception of a nativity scene. Most other decorations have Pagan origins.

In other words, when you come right down to it, the Pagans are the only ones truly and consistenly represented by your average holiday display. Now who is going to be angry over that?

Things I Don't Get #7 (Or, A Rational Defense of Why I Hate Glee Think Glee is Overrated)

2010-11-06T05:35:00.000-07:00

Want to know how to make yourself Public Enemy #1 these days? Be someone who doesn't like Glee. If you don't like Glee, you're out of touch, mean, and just plain weird. Clearly there is something wrong with you.

I'm sure in my case it's also the perception that I'm just a pretentious, TV-hating, twit. That's true to some point. I am a member of the Kill Your Television crowd as well as a BBC geek who generally doesn't like much mainstream TV, but it's not as if I reject all of it out of hand. Remember I was a huge Lost geek and The Office is perpetually in my Netflix queue.

I was more than willing to give Glee a chance. Everyone* kept telling me how great it was and how much I would love it. As a singer and performer myself (okay, a very medicore singer and performer but I do love performing) it seemed like my kind of show. I put the first season in my Netflix queue with great anticipation.

‎In the beginning it I thought it had a lot going for it. There were some bizarro plot lines and kooky characters. It's the exact sort of entertainment I like. However, after a few episodes it became apparent that the writing is weak. The show wants to be funny, but it just isn't. It never seems to be able to release itself from the same formulas. The same stuff happens every week. The teacher begs for money. The cheerleading coach tries to sabotage him. Musical numbers are performed perfectly with no rehearsing. Popular kids square off with the nerds. It's unchanging and uninteresting. It's a pity because it could work quite well as a madcap comedy, but they don't try hard enough to make it funnier.

Another aspect of the bad writing is that it resorts to two-dimensional characters and tired old high school cliches. The show's concept may be fresh, but it's execution is not. While it's true that the jocks vs. nerds stereotype will always be alive in high school, it misses many of the nuances and subtleties that create this conflict. In Glee, singing in the choir makes you an automatic geek. Social standing is drawn along very rigid lines this way. As someone who was the lowest of the low in her high school social standing, I can assure you it didn't spring from my membership in the choir. Dropping that class would not have done anything for my lack of status in school. There were cheerleaders and football players in the choir (and they weren't spies). Heck, even the marching band, that traditional bastion of geekdom, had cheerleaders (basketball season of course). My junior year the *gasp* drum major was school president. Glee is a show that runs on cliches.

I also think the stereotypes are highly offensive. I don't understand why my gay friends love this show because the gay character is such an overblown gay stereotype. I'd be offended if I were gay. I would also be offended by the fact that Rachel gets her insane drive, diva attitude, and obsession with performing from her two gay dads . Speaking of diva attitudes, let's not forget the blatant sterotype of the black female diva.

Musical numbers are too slick, to lip-synched, too autotuned. The kids are handed a piece of music and immediately can sing it and dance to it on the first try. Apparently it's a choir full of prodigies! Despite the fact that they're aiming for screwball comedy, they take these slick performances seriously. The juxtaposition of the two aspects of the show is very poorly done.

This show could be so good if it were even slightly self-aware. Imagine if Glee actually focused on the process. Have these kids, many of whom were not experienced performers, go through the process of learning music and choreography. Anyone who has ever sung in a choir or danced on stage would be on the floor laughing if it were done well. We all can relate. Show the kids going off key sometimes. Have them sing for real minus the lip synching. When you have a group of mostly inexperienced singers able to create sophisticated mashups within a week, you lose credibility. If the show even recognized this, it might be funny. What we end up with is High School Musical with its skirt hiked up.

This is the thing I don't get about Glee. I just don't get why, with its weak writing and bad cliches, that mature adults are into it. I have friends who write professionally and yet still can't get enough of this show's horrid writing. I don't get the appeal unless you're a young man who likes to watch scantily-clad teenagers going through cheerleading moves. The show isn't terribly funny and outside of the musical concept, isn't terribly original. What's the appeal?

As an aside, this show got a big black mark in my book in the episode where the teacher tried to uncover his wife's fake pregnancy. The way he yelled and grabbed her and put her hands on her was NOT COOL. It was awful and abusive and should never have been shown that would in any way make the husband sympathetic. I don't care how deceitful his wife had been. Touching his wife in that way was DEAD WRONG. It almost made me long for the god-awful misogyny-as-nostalgia in Mad Men.

Okay. I've made my point. I'm sure right now every Gleek on the planet is saying, "That's all well and good, but you're wrong and you're still a pretentious twit. So be it. Everyone is entitled to my opinion. I'll close with this. You think Glee is so wonderful? Right now I'm seeing that it's only the second season and they're already resorting to outrageous guest stars and theme episodes. To me that's a sure sign Glee is strapping on its waterskis and watching for fins in the water.

*Actually, one person thought I wouldn't like it. Unfortunately, I didn't know this till after the fact when I mentioned my dislike of Glee on Facebook and my BFF replied, "I didn't think you would like it." I wish she had told me earlier! If one of the people in the world who knows me best, probably better than I know myself at times, had the wisdom to warm me off earlier, I might have saved myself a few nights and started in earlier with Battlestar Galactica.

Classic Doggerel - Repost

2010-11-01T14:12:00.001-07:00

So I heard that you are in London
I wish I could go there too
But I heard that it's raining in London
And I hope that it's raining on you!

It drips on Westminster Abbey
And runs down the sides of Big Ben
Then it pours and pours on your noggins
And keeps pouring and pouring again

The banks of the Thames are flooded
The Palace Gardens are a muddle
I laugh while I sit and imagine
All of you falling in a puddle

I've always known you to be
Extremely well prepared fellas
But I've often noticed in the past
You tend to forget your umbrellas

Take refuge in Tussards or Harrods
Or sip some afternoon tea
But soon you'll be out and you'll know it
You won't be as dry as me

It's sunny right here in our hometown
I can walk through the streets and stay dry
It's a week of really good hair days
And it's also good weather to fly

It was sunny when I last was in London
While back home it rained all week long
So consider that next time you're going
That it's better to take me along

No, I'm not bitter.

Fear For Sale

2010-10-26T07:16:00.000-07:00

We have nothing to fear but fear itself – Franklin Roosevelt

I love my country and I fear for it – Glenn Beck

Once upon a time Americans were inspired to face their fears and go boldly into a new world. Fear was a bad thing that could be overcome.

Now fear seems to be the dominant emotion in today’s social and political arenas. Fear is exploited and encouraged. Why is that?

There is one reason: Fear sells. Americans pay big money to be afraid and have their fears confirmed and have the next Great Guru of Fright promise a way out, a way to not be afraid anymore.

I recently read Will Bunch’s book The Backlash. Throughout the book, Bunch traverses the country interviewing various Tea Party members. His goal was to truly understand them and their motives. After reading the book it seemed that fear was the common thread among all of the various movements across the country.

Where does this fear come from? It mostly comes from the media. Political pundits have become fear mongers, selling Americans on the idea that the country is in deep trouble. Terrorists will attack. Religion will be abolished. Guns will be grabbed. Taxes will send us all into poverty. Illegal aliens will spend all of our tax dollars. These things won't happen if the right politicians are in office of course.

This is only going to happen if we continue to allow Barack Obama to be our president, and if we continue to allow Democrats to be in Congress. Only one-party rule can save us - and that party is not only Republican, but it must also be Republicans of the Tea Party variety.

(Oddly enough, none of these folks find the idea of the rule of one party and one ideology frightening, but that's neither here nor there.)

Why is this fear perpetuated? Why are there so many public figures trying so hard to make us afraid? Why do we buy into it?

The reason is that fear sells. There is a huge profit to be made off of fear in both small ways and large. Fear is also a useful tool for controlling people. The government and the corporations pulling government strings can wield a lot of power by creating fear.

What are Americans afraid of, and who profits from it, and how?

I believe the Tea Party fears, the ones they try to push onto all of us, can be divided into a few types.

1. Fear of Totalitarianism - I was initially going to say that it's a fear of communism, but it's not really about communism. It's about communism as interpreted by the Soviet Union. As the Cold War began, we saw the brutal reign of Josef Stalin and the pain he caused his people. Like most empires, the only way to hold together such fast amounts of territory and many diverse peoples is through an absolute dictatorship. While no one can deny communism is an inefficient and awkward system to employ over large amounts of territory, Americans took it a step further. It became synonymous with dictatorships, repressiveness, and just plain evil.

Americans love a good slippery slope argument. If we let the government do A, it will automatically feel free to do Y and Z. The next thing you know, we're living in the new Soviet Union. Religion will be outlawed. Our guns will be taken away. Speaking out against the government will land us in prison.

This fear was exploited to the max during the Reagan era. Reagan wielded fear like a weapon over the American people. The Soviet Union was living in an almost medieval setup prior to 1917. It became a superpower through military might alone with little attention to its own economic growth (and hence its ultimate failure). Their weapons capabilities were often highly exaggerated by both our intelligence and theirs.

Ah, but that threat was useful to Reagan. As long he told us that they were ready to attack us at any moment, that we were in danger, then we would be too afraid to defy him. No one would question his extravagant spending and massive deficit as long as we were being told it was being done for our protection. The protection was being invested in military contracts, enriching some of the biggest corporations in the world. Using fear the president was able to take enormous power and rape the treasury, making a select few very wealthy.

2. Fear of Poverty - I was going to call this "fear of taxes", but it goes deeper than that. Taxes are just a convenient proxy for all of our fears about having no control over our finances.

For years the right has used the scare tactic that liberals will raise taxes. Liberals will make the government seize your hard-earned money and hand it out to people who don't deserve it - the "Handout People". The government is draining money from your pockets and there is nothing you can do about it unless you vote Republican.

It's a bogus argument really. How many people reading this can honestly say that their taxes improved dramatically during any particular administration. One of the most honest things I ever heard a politician say was during the 1988 presidential debate when Michael Dukakis said, "No matter who wins, your taxes will go up." Taxes will rise with inflation. They will rise according to the needs of the country. Like it or not, if you want your government to do anything for you, whether it's fund your military, repair your roads, provide your kids with education, or provide your meds in your old age, you are going to have to pay for it. No government is going to let you off the hook for this, no matter what the political party.

Do you know whose taxes are significantly cut during particular administrations? It's the top 1% of the wealth holders in this country. These are the owners of at least 90% of the wealth. We're not talking about those liberal Hollywood elite whom right wing pundits enjoying picking on. We're not talking about these millionaire right-wing pundits themselves. We're not even talking popular billionaires like Bill Gates. Those folks are small potatoes. We're talking about the true top, the tiny minority, the heads of the biggest multinationals in industries like defense, agribusiness, finance and energy. The very word "taxes" sends middle class and upper middle class screaming about how hard they work for their money and how taxing hard-working people is unfair. So many of them have no idea what tax inequality really is.

The theory has always been that as long as those at the top make money unencumbered, they would reinvest it into the economy, creating jobs, and providing cheaper services overall. This "trickle down" theory hasn't proven to be true. Untaxed and unregulated our top 1% has simply used the opportunity to take a bigger piece of the pie. They have downsized the workforce or else outsourced jobs to countries where they are not obligated to pay living wages or provide safe work environments. The agribusinesses also hire illegal aliens as another way of getting around compensation and safety regulations (and you think the immigration problem stems from the folks who hire a couple of Mexicans to mow their lawns or babysit their kids).

The right has been known to talk a good talk about our greedy financial institutions, but they refuse to see how their unregulated operations and unmitigated greed has caused economic collapse. To say that we need regulation would be to unlock the fear of totalitarianism. Bank regulations are a step toward communism for sure!

So the right wing pundits and politicians throw up the smoke screen of taxes and make scapegoats out of the less fortunate who have had the nerve to ask the government for help. What is ironic about this is that many Teabaggers are older retirees and veterans who are likely receiving government benefits such as Social Security, disability, veteran's benefits, and Medicare. So many of these people have had a very rough decade. They have been downsized out of jobs, forced into early retirement, been screwed out of their pensions, and been ignored by a seemingly uncaring bureaucracy. There is plenty of blame to go around for this, but the blame is so often misplaced.

Unfortunately, thanks to the fear of communism/totalitarianism they vote against their own interests, believing that the problem lies not with lack of regulation, but with the folks (the other folks - not them) who are receiving governments assistance (a pittance compared to the benefits multinational corporations receive). It is undeserving lazy people who are stealing money from our pockets.

The truth is most of us don't know how many paychecks we are away from losing our homes or heading to the breadlines. We don't know if a devastating health problem would ruin us. We don't know what lies ahead in our old age. Every single one of us pays taxes of some kind or another. That means every single one of us is entitled to the same "handouts" that those lazy, good-for-nothing poor people have. We all pay into it and we can all potentially benefit from it. If you're too proud to ask for it, then it's your own fault. Don't blame those who aren't too proud for taking your money.

3. Fear of Being a Minority - This video is very telling about how threatened white Christians feel about "The Other". Although the focus here is on Muslims, the statistics for the US count Latino immigration separately when considering US birth rates. To some Americans, culture must be fixed and unchanging.

Sadly, it's hard to keep the culture the same when European-descended whites are destined to become a minority in the US in 40 years. When one considers just how badly European Americans have been to non-whites, I would say that it has not been a pretty picture. We killed off millions of Native Americans, put Asians in concentration camps, enslaved blacks and then spent decades segregating them. Now Latino immigrants are harassed and potentially being denied citizenship rights. Once Euro-Americans are a minority, can they hold their power? If they can't, how will they be treated by these scary brown people?

The election of a half-African president is one of the scariest things yet to these people. Yes, they shall overcome. What is next? The popular TV show The West Wing had a Latino actor playing the president. We are also coming to realize that just because the majority of Americans idenitfy as Christian, we are granting legitimacy and tolerance of other beliefs. People who may not look exactly like us are gaining power every day. They're becoming successful, making money, making new rules, and changing the face of America. Some people find that terrifying.

It's not a coincidence how these Christian fertility cults have been given so much attention lately. Sure other religions have been known to breed copiously such as Catholics (unfortunately there is a heavy Latino element) and Hasidic Jews (white, but not Christian and not exactly in the mainstream culture). Now the happy, plastic automaton Duggars seem to make the morning news or People magazine almost on a weekly basis and seem to have a big fan cult around them. It's not just about following some Biblical mandate. These folks want to breed more Christians - more white Christians. They are desperately trying to make themselves into the dominant culture.

As long as we struggle to make certain groups second class citizens, the current frightened majority won't stand up for them if they are exploited.

4. Fear of Social Change - This is a big one. So many Teabaggers and other assorted right wingers are products of the social changes often associated with the 60s. They are overwhelmingly white (as mentioned above) and tend to be older, often retirees or semi-retirees. They grew up watching the world change rapidly and felt left behind by the movements that have defined our culture for the past 50 years. They see the world before the revolution as idyllic, because they are looking through the imperfect eye of childhood (didn't we all think the world was better when we were kids) and memory.

They see a world now that is more secular. Americans are questioning their God. They see more families seeming to fall apart (even if the divorce rate has remained steady, and even declined slightly over the years.) They see gays demanding - and sometimes receiving - equal treatment and acceptance. Despite 22 years of Republicans dominating the White House and 12 years of Republicans dominating Congress, no one has managed to overturn Roe V. Wade, or even introduce the legislation to do so, and the majority of the American people are happy with that. In his book, Bunch asserts that many on the right had believed that the election of Reagan would bring in a new era of morality. The Reagan years were merely a small blip, a last hurrah. Most of us have progressed beyond the nebulous "family values" that were supposed to define the new world order since Reagan was elected. Teabaggers are terrified.

The young people involved with the movement see the past through the imperfect eye of television. They want to live in a 50s sitcom world. They never knew how hard life was under segregation and institutionalized sexism and homophobia. They only know the seemingly more messed up world we live in now. Sure many issues came to a head in the 60s, but the changes were brewing for decades and decades before that. Children of divorced parents sometimes long for a world where feminism never would have given women other choices than to stay married. They're looking for a perfect world that never existed.

There is enormous profit to be made in this desire to bring back a different social order. This piece is an excellent explanation of how religious extremists are using this fear for profit. There is a war going on people. The nasty liberals are committing crimes against us. They're waging war against Christians and against the most sacred of American holidays. You must arm yourselves people. Arm yourselves with everything you can. Then arm yourselves some more.

No one has explained to me exactly what will happen if all Americans don't follow the same moral codes (within what is allowed by law). If we start trying to enforce one standard of morality across all citizens, then I would think we'd be heading in Taliban direction - but then again, by saying that, I'm just another fear monger.

5. Fear of Loss of Rights - This ties into the social change fear as well as the totalitarianism fear.

Thanks to the near-instantaneous delivery of messages today via Internet and 24-hour news, means it's very easy for someone to create a buzz when he says the wrong thing. If a talk radio host makes a racist remark, he is sure to be criticized all over the Internet. The next thing you know, the angry host is declaring that those nasty liberals are taking away his right to free speech. Never mind that the liberals who are complaining aren't censoring him. They're just exercising their own right to free speech. It's not censorship. Free speech goes both ways.

The fear of religious rights being taken away are also exploited for all they are worth. I remember during the 2004 elections a crazed right-wing group began sending out pamphlets to voters claiming liberals would "ban the Bible". It was a very silly assumption. Which liberals would be banning it (certainly not People for the American Way). What would they be banning it from? Schools? Libraries? All schools, libraries and bookstores? Despite this absolutely ridiculous and unrealistic warning, I still saw a promo for Sean Hannity's show where he said, "Coming up tonight: Will liberals ban the Bible?" Can you imagine how a mere 10-second promo spot could have members of the religious right shaking in their boots?

Has the government ever tried to force a church to close? Is Christianity illegal? One of the biggest religious right bugaboos is prayer in school, claiming that it's illegal for a child to pray in school. Of course it's not illegal at all. It's only illegal for the school to sponsor it. Children are welcome to pray of their own accord if it's not disrupting the class. Your average citizen does not welcome public proselytizing, but that's only a government issue if the proselytizer is a public nuisance or is trying to do so at a government sponsored event (as the government is not supposed to endorse any one particular religion as a way of promoting religious freedom).

Then there is the gun issue. Teabaggers are convinced the Obama wants to take away their guns. They beliece this administration is made up of gun grabbers who want to overturn the Second amendment. Not once during his campaign did Obama advocate for gun control (not that I ever heard and you can correct me if I'm wrong). Since he has taken office he has enacted no gun control legislation and has even allowed existing pieces of gun control legislation to expire. In other words, right wingers are actually looking for and making up things to fear. That just blows my mind.

Profits, profits, profits. There are profits to be made everywhere. At Tea Party rallies you can buy all sorts of stuff from hats and t-shirts made in China to high-end teabag jewelry. If you're a speaker at these rallies, you can command thousands for every performance. I suspect the likes of Sarah Palin and Glenn Beck make more money in a single appearance than most members of the rallies make in a year.

They claim it's a grass roots movement, but it's nothing of the sort. The Tea Party is being funded by some of the wealthiest, most powerful people in the country. David Koch, one of the wealthiest oil barons around has funded millions into convincing a disenfranchised group to vote against their own interests and promote his own. Make them fear a tyrannical government who will take away your hard-earned money in taxes, take away your guns, take away your right to speak out, take away your right to be Christian, and give the profits to illegal immigrants, and they will gladly hand their money over to you. The wealthiest in America know that the peasants can revolt with a vote, so it's best to use whatever tactics possible to make sure they vote in your favor, and see you as the savior and not the enemy.

America, let's stop the fear and let's vote to move this country forward and take it back not from the godless socialists, but from those who are taking all of our power and money away from us.

Addendum: I know that this blog has a very anti-regressive slant, but in the interest of fairness (and knowing someone will likely call me out on it) I will point out that fear profiteering is not only in the domain of regressives. I believe in global warming, but I won't deny that Al Gore isn't making big bucks keeping us in fear of the consequences. Christian wingnuts may be scaring other Christian wingnuts with their "The Liberals Are Coming to Get Us" books, but there are also plenty of reasonable progressives who also want to scare other reasonable progressives with books about how wingnut Christians are trying to take over the country, complete with conspiracy theories.

No one is exempt. Fear sells.

Bombing

2010-10-24T18:43:00.001-07:00

The more I think about it, the more I am disappointed with myself for my performance last night.

I sang in public for the first time in two years. I was very excited to be on stage again. I really wanted to do this. Although I had some songs in mind I had wanted to try out, I accepted one that the director requested. Beggars can't be choosers. I know the Harrison Players haven't been 100% happy with my behind-the-scenes participation in events and meetings recently. I should be lucky they still want me in productions at all.

The song was called, The Boy From... (more specifically from Tacarembo La Tumbe Del Fuego Santa Malipa Zecatate La Junta Del Sol Y Cruz). It's a send-up of The Girl From Ipanema. The song's narrator is enamored with the boy in question and just doesn't get that he's obviously gay. ("Why are his trousers vermillion...Why do his friends call him 'Lillian'?") It was funny, really funny. It should have raised a few chuckles from the audience.

The song ended and I received blank stares and polite applause (except for the applause coming from the table containing my family of course). Did anyone get it? Did they know what the song was about? I asked Kevin. He said no. I asked him if my diction was okay (as a former student of the late Prof. Stites, diction is my specialty!) and he said yes. He just didn't get the song. My mother said she got what the song was about, but she didn't find it especially funny. I asked my father if he understood what the song was about and he just said, "Was it supposed to be The Girl From Ipanema?"

Clearly something was lost in translation. Maybe the lack of reaction to the song had to do with some of my flubbed notes. The melody could be complex at times (and the lyrics were a tongue twister to boot) with some very strange key changes (!@#% Sondheim!) I know I needed more than 3 sessions with the music director to learn it properly. I'm not that much of a musical genius to pick it up that quickly. There were some points in the song where I sounded downright awful and off-key.

What's worse though is that I didn't really sell it. The audience wasn't seeing the humor because I just wasn't projecting it properly. I couldn't convince the audience that it was funny. I was angry with the audience intially for not understanding the song. Now I realized I should be angrier with myself for not properly conveying the meaning of the song. I tried going my usual dramatic route in the first rehearsals. The director said it was much funnier if I did it totally deadpan. I'm not good at deapan. I admit that. I like to do things larger than life. I tried to restrain myself, but I don't think I did a good job. I wasn't singing from the point of view of a woman truly perplexed about why the object of her affection doesn't feel the same way and is missing the obvious signs. I didn't do it. I couldn't do it. It didn't work. I failed.

Maybe I should have insisted that I stay with a song I know I can sell. I can sing the crap out of songs like Cabaret or I Got Rhythm. I had suggested singing Look What Happened to Mabel, a song I haven't performed before, but I have been dying to perform partially because it's so perfect for my voice. I was on fire dancing to that one in my recital 3 years ago, so I know how the song feels to me (too bad I looked like a dancing sausage in costume). The director clearly wanted this song performed. I volunteered when they asked me if I would. He thought it was funny. He took a chance on my ability to perform it. In a way I feel I let him down.

The whole show was a bit disheartening to me. There were so many beautiful voices performing last night. These young women with the voices of angels - the sweetest, most melodious sorpranos imaginable, who drew thunderous applause after every song - made me sound more like an angry cat every time I opened my mouth. I wished I could have a voice so easy on the ears. I'm actually a soprano myself, but my top notes are shrill and screechy. No one wants to hear them unless they need support for the choir. Otherwise Rachel needs to keep the caterwauling to herself.

What's the solution? Should I be more demanding with what I sing in the future? Should I pick songs that I know I can sell?

Maybe playing it safe is the wrong way to go.

Perhaps I've gone so extreme with the loud, brassy character songs that it has all become too unpleasant and over the top. I may never sound very sweet, but maybe I should at least attempt to be sweeter. Maybe I should work on the ballads. A few years ago I was on a cruise and sang Dido's White Flag on a karaoke night. Kevin said the audience was transfixed. I bought the karaoke CD for myself and took it to singing class last spring. I mentioned to the teacher that the emotions expressed in that song bring me back to another time in my life - they express how I felt the first time something male ever broke my heart. The teacher felt I should explore this type of singing more. She felt I should make a bigger attempt to connect with those feelings and stop trying to put on a show.

I think that's the problem right there. I don't sing to connect to feelings. I do sing to put on a show. I love to perform because I want to be the center of attention. I want to scream, "LOOK AT ME," and if they're not looking I feel like a failure.

Sining class starts again for me this week. I think it's back to the drawing board for me.

Paris - Day 5 & 6

2010-10-13T06:25:00.000-07:00

French

I wish the French would go a little easier on Americans when it comes to learning and saying their words. I understand that it's easy to bash Americans and their perpetual ignorance of other language and cultures. Learning a foreign language fluently does require a degree of immersion that Americans can't always afford, living separated from Europe by a vast ocean.

One thing I learned while in France is that French is hard. I'm not talking about the funny spelling rules. Sure those can be complex, but they are fixed and once you learn them, you know them (unlike English where the spelling rules can differ wildly). What I find hard about French is pronunciation.

I began to really pay attention to how French is spoken. I tried to imitate the words. So much of French is spoken so differently from not only English, but other romance languages. The placement of the words in your mouth are just alien to me. Vowels are placed very differently. Consonants are touched on with more or less emphasis than you are used to.

I have studied Italian and Spanish and both of those have very straightforward consonants and very clean vowels (make fun of Giada DeLaurentis all you want, but she knows how to pronounce Italian words properly). There is no fudging in in Spanish and especially not in Italian. Those languages don't really differ that much from English either. English is "lazier" with consonants and contains far more diphthongs, but it still places its words in a similar fashion.

Studying other languages doesn't always help you with French. Yes certain words are cognantes, so you can read or understand them, but saying them is a whole different ballgame. I had a very difficult time making my Rs guttural instead of flipping them. Kevin told me I had to work on my merci`.

Maybe the French won't ease up on me, but I don't think I will ever make fun of a French accent. It works in reverse after all. The French must have an equally difficult time properly placing English words.

Day 5 - We began to hear reports that the weather would be improving, so we decided our first order of business would be to see the Eiffel Tower that morning. Fewer clouds would mean a better view.

We decided to walk the whole way there up the Seine. It was a nice walk that took us less than an hour. The sun was definitely starting to peek through the clouds when we arrived.

Lines were long, and strangely enough the line to walk up was longer than the one to take to elevator the entire way. We had had enough walking anyway, so we were happy enough to wait in the shorter line.
So we reached the top. We looked down. We took photos. We posed for pictures. I normally don't have problems with high places. I was fine in Notre Dame and the Arc De Triomphe, but for some reason I was very nervous in the Eiffel Tower. I think a building made of steel girders somehow seems more threatening then solid stone.

I wanted to explore a bit around the Eiffel Tower area, but Kevin reminded us that we still had other important sights to see. Our next stop was the Louvre.

Thank goodness for the museum pass. We were able to get in almost instantly. Once we were down in the pyramid, it was all so confusing. We wanted an audiotour, but it was unclear how to obtain one. The wings shot off in every direction. It was all so intimidating. Where should we go first?

We started with viewing the famous Winged Victory.

Then we went to the Italian and Spanish painters gallery. Here we looked at Renaissance painters, some of which were quite recognizable.

Then we decided to try the antiquities area. We started with the Venus De Milo of course, but then hung around the Greek antiquities for a while. Then I said we should check out the Egyptian rooms.

The Egyptian rooms probably took the most of our time. They went on forever. I don't think we came close to seeing all of them. There came a point where we knew we had truly had enough. We were probably in the museum for 3 1/2 hours.

When we left I suggested we try to find Angelina's for a snack. I had forgotten my map. I tried to remember where it was. I failed miserably. We were going in the opposite direction of where we should have been going. Oh well.

When we returned to our room I had a big bug up my butt. We did not visit Tuilieres when we were at the Lourvre. It had rained on Versailles. The day had grown progressively sunnier and I wanted to walk through a park! I decided to find the Jardin De Luxembourg.

It took about 15 minutes to walk there and I was rewarded with seeing some beautiful scenery at sunset. I wished Kevin had joined me as it would have been quite romantic and he would have had some stunning photos.

Dinner that night was local again. We ate at a Guy Savoy restaurant. We hoped for another beautiful day.

Day 6 - Kevin wanted to go to Pere Lachaise cemetary and see Jim Morrison's grave. I knew we needed a good chunk of time to do this as it's a pretty long metro ride to get there. We lucked out with our choice of days to visit as it was the most beautiful day of the week.

It may sound a bit morbid to say it was a beautiful day to walk through a cemetary, but it was really beautiful and peaceful there. Some of the tombs were amazing in terms of the art work. We saw Jim Morrison, Edith Piaf, Chopin, Balzac, Proust, Rossini, Sarah Bernhardt and Oscar Wilde.

For the second half of the day we continued north to Sacre Couer. The neighborhood is interesting in a seedy sort of way. The beautiful day brought out all sorts of people. There were entertainers all around the church.

The church itself was beautiful both inside and out (unfortunately we were not allowed to take photo inside). Climbing all of those stairs to get there helped burn off lunch.

Then of course we had to climb more stairs to go to the top of the dome. We looked down at more views and took pictures.

We left Sacre Couer and took the metro back towards our hotel, but instead of going straight home, we stopped on the right bank and walked along the Rue De Rivoli. We walked from the Chatelet station to Place Des Vosges. This area had the best shopping I had experienced so far. There were all kinds of fun stores. Kevin bought himself two new shirts and a new pair of shoes. I found a shoe store with several pairs that called to me as well, but I was too tired at the end of a long day to choose one and then try to find my size.

We ended it at Place De Vosges, which is an enclosed square with a park in the middle and various stores and galleries around the perimeter. It also home to Maison Victor Hugo. We considered going in, but we didn't have the energy for another musuem. Many of the restaurants looked good, but it was a bit early for dinner and we considered coming back to them later.

On our walk back we were so absorbed in shopping that we weren't really looking for landmarks and walked right by Notre Dame (the turnoff for our hotel). We almost walked all the way back to the Louvre. We turned around and headed east again and made it back to our hotel a bit later than we thought we would.

Once we were back in the room we had to stop putting off the inevitable and began packing for the trip home. It was particularly sad because we had had such a good day. It would be hard to say which day in Paris was the best day, but if I had to pick one, Friday would certainly be in the running.

We stayed in our neighborhood for dinner again. We were too tired to walk anywhere or bother with the Metro.

Day 7 - All good things must come to an end. We met our shuttle early in the morning and made good time to the airport. There were no real issues there except that they ended up searching one of my carry-on bags. It was filled with candy and cookies and I hoped they wouldn't be seized. Fortunatley they weren't. We had a decent flight and made it home by mid-afternoon.

Was Paris everything I expected it to be? I suppose it was, although no place is ever going to be in reality the way it is in your head. We saw some amazing sites, ate delicious food, and had some very educational experiences. I saw many things I have dreamed of seeing my whole life. This was supposed to be "my" trip, but Kevin enjoyed himself immensely, calling Paris the most beautiful city he had ever seen (emphasize CITY, not place).

So many friends and families had suggestions for us as to what to do, what to see, and what to experience. We saw much of it. There were also things we missed. We never spent a leisurely afternoon drinking in a cafe watching the world go by. I never ate a single macaron. I didn't hit any of the cool bars. In the end I'm cool with that. Kevin and I set our own pace for the trip and saw the things that meant the most to us. This was our trip and not anyone else's.

Maybe we didn't see everything everyone recommended or do everything we had hoped to do, but that's our best motivation to go back!

Paris - Day 3 & 4

2010-10-12T08:36:00.000-07:00

Attitude
The question everyone asks me now is, "Is it true that French people are rude?" Well, France is a big country, and I'm sure it has plenty of rude people, and I'm sure it has plenty of very pleasant people too. All I saw was a small sampling of people in a large city in a small country. How can I make such a generalization?

My daily interactions were quite pleasant for the most part. Few people seemed to look down on me for not being able to speak French or for being American or for wearing the wrong shoes. Most of the folks I met were servers and receptionists and ticket takers and shopkeepers. Being rude to me would certainly not benefit them monetarily. I had many pleasant interactions with Parisians.

Then there was on incident that made me wonder. Kevin and I were walking around our neighborhood shopping for some necessities. I came upon a Sephora.

There has been something I have been meaning to get from Sephora for the past few weeks, so I decided to go in and see if the Paris branch carried it. I found it and went to the register to make a purchase.

There were two registers open. One had 3 or 4 people in line. One had only two men who appeared to be together. Obviously I chose the shorter line. It turned out to be the wrong line. The two men in front of me were having some sort of issue and were filling out a form. The cashier looked at me sympathetically and assured me she would help me as soon as she was finished with them. I told her it was fine. I considered jumping into the other line, but it had grown longer.

Finally, a third sales person walked up to the registers and conferred with the other two. She saw me waiting there, clearly looked at me, and opened up the register. She then said, "Next," (she may have even said it in English) and looked right at me.

Before I could take another step and get in her line, the next person in the other line jumped right in front of me. The cashier gave me a sympathetic and puzzled look, but I was not about to start a fight with the line jumper. I let her go ahead, went in line behind her, and made my purchase.

Was the line jumper French? I don't know. Kevin thinks she was American. I don't think it matters. Rude and selfish behavior is not confined to one culture.

Every day I dealt with nearly being run down by Parisians on their way to this place or that. We squished together in the Metro. Parisian residents who aren't in the service industry have no need to be nice to tourists when it's not going to benefit them. I'm not saying that they were being deliberately rude. I'm just saying that they were just living their lives. These are people who just want to go to work, go home, have dinner, shop, and just be where they need to be. They're in their own individual worlds, out for themselves.

Paris is a big city, and people who live in big cities tend to be @ssholes. It's the nature of city living. When you live in a city you're constantly surrounded by people. You are likely to be paying ridiculous amounts of money for housing - and rather tiny housing at that. It's a very stressful way of life. You're not out there enjoying the endless pleasures the tourists are taking in. You're working and living in a real world. You just want to focus on making your way and it helps to ignore the throngs of humanity around you. Being surrounded by thousands of people also instills a certain level of paranoia and mistrust. That's not just Paris. It's New York. It's London. It's LA. It's Tokyo. It's Chicago. It's Mumbai.

So no, French people are not rude. They're just people. Human like you and me.

Day 3 - This was our busiest day of all. Too bad it was another gloomy day with intermittent rain.

We began our day with a trip to the Musee` D'Orsay. We thought it would be fun to use the Batobus for transportation. It's a hop-on/hop-off boat that goes up and down the Seine, stopping at the major tourist points. It's a pay-one-price ticket for the full day, which seemed like a good deal. It's also a scenic ride.

We picked up the boat at Notre Dame, which meant that we had to wait for it to go all the way up the Right Bank and then back down the Left to reach the museum. It was a longer ride than we anticipated. It was close to 11 when we arrived. Then we had to wait on a very long line. Even with the museum pass it took at least a half hour due to the security checkpoint at the entrance.

We were unable to take photos inside, so all I have are the statues on the outside.

We spent about two hours inside the museum. Knowing we couldn't see it all in one day, we concentrated on the impressionists and post-impressionists. We saw Van Gogh's famous self portrait along with paintings by Cezanne and Degas and Gaugin and Renoir and Manet.

After the museum we fortified ourselves with crepes and soldiered on. Ha ha. That was a great pun since our next stop was Le Invalides and the Musee` D'Armee. We thought it would be cool to see Napoleon's tomb.

The tomb is in an open crypt with a balcony looking down into from the floor above. There is a high dome above the crypt and over the entrance is a big altar.

My thought was, "All of this elaborate burial regalia for a leader who ended up exiled!" I suppose it's less extravagant than the Taj Mahal.

After that we were over the beautiful Pont Alexandre and on to Place De La Concorde. We were actually doubling back by doing this, but I thought Kevin would have some good opportunities for photos with the obelisk and the fountains.

Then we made the long walk up the Champs Elysee`s to the Arc De Triomphe. It's a pity that it began raining harder around that time, making the scenery a bit dull and less colorful. The leaves on the trees would have looked so beautiful on a sunny day.

We made it to the Arch. Exhausted as we were, we were still crazy enough to climb to the top. What the heck. Our museum passes got us in, so why not?

We could have had to have walked back to the Champs Elysee`s to catch the Batobus again, but we were far too tired for such a long walk. We just took the Metro back to our hotel.

For everyone who has ever told me how wonderful the Metro is, I would like to know what you are smoking. Whatever it is, I wished I had smoked it too before using the Metro. Yes, the Metro is a bit easier to navigate than the NYC subways, but it's just as dirty and congested. Connections take forever because they are so spread out in the terminals. Let's not forget the inconvenience of having to open your own doors when the train stops. (It's a good thing we discovered you have to do that before we had to get off at our own stops.) The seating is horrible. It's rows of facing seats instead of the bench seats you see on the subway in NYC. That means fewer places for riders to actually sit. I was rarely ever able to plant my tired butt in a seat on the Metro. The Metro does not even compare to the London Underground.

After walking down the chi-chi Avenue with its many chain shops, I was grateful to finally be back in my cozy, unique, little Latin Quarter!

I actually took another walk around the neighborhood before dinner. I hadn't really explored the Latin Quarter and its shops and sights yet. We had dinner in a local cafe and went to bed as early as possible. We had an early day ahead of us.

Day 4 - Today we took a tour of Versailles. We opted to go with a small group van tour. The RER could have taken us there right from our hotel, but we liked the idea of having someone guide us and having everything prepaid. Our tour picked us up a little after 8AM and we were on our way. We were joined by a mother and her teenaged daughter who were from Boston along with a middle aged man and his mother who were from London.

We started out with the palace, going through the major rooms including the Hall of Mirrors and Louis XIV's bed chamber.

Then we had about 45 minutes to walk the grounds before lunch. Our lunch at a very nice restaurant was included.

Then we went on to Marie Antoinette's hamlet. I loved this place. It is an educational working farm now and there were gardens and animals and even a vineyard. It was the perfect place for a traditional Fall day in the country, particularly with the backdrop of the changing leaves. It was too bad that the rain continued that day.

Next was the Grand Trianon, the palace of the kings' official mistresses. Here was saw Napoleon's bed. The gardens here were very blue.

Then there was the Petite Trianon. This was another,smaller estate belonging to Marie Antoinette. There were some interesting artifacts here like some of the actual china in the kitchen and a royal baby carriage. The gardens were also quite beautiful here.

We arrived back at our hotel in the late afternoon. We had a few hours until dinner so we opted to take a walk around the Ile St. Louis and explore some of the shops. We were particularly interested in some of the sweet shops we had spotted on our way to dinner on Sunday night. There were several interesting boutiques there as well and we managed to get a head start on Christmas shopping.

The day was also our 9th anniversary. Our dinner reservations that night were at the famous La Coupole. It meant another Metro ride *grumble* to get there, but we had a very tasty dinner to make up for it.

Another day down. Our week was now half over.

Paris - Day 1&2

2010-10-09T17:45:00.000-07:00

Stamps

There is something I find very exciting about having new stamps on my passport. It's an official confirmation that I have been somewhere. It's an official record of both a place and time.

My first passport only had two stamps on it: the trip out of the U.S. and the return. It expired before I ever used it again.

My current passport has been stamped a few times, although those stamps come more from business than from pleasure. Still, it's fun to see places I have been confirmed. Sometimes after I go through customs on a trip I will stop and look at my new stamp.

I have decided to break the blog up into manageable bits so readers don't have to go through an interminable amount of dull travelogue. I'm covering two days at a time, starting with the day we arrived.

Day 1 - We left Saturday night for a redeye flight. We were fortunate that everything went smoothly. Our flight was on time and we managed to even snatch a few winks of sleep. As our plane landed I had to wrap my brain around the idea that it was France down there. After a year of planning and waiting, we had arrived.

We were not so lucky once we arrived at Charles DeGaulle. We had gone through customs and were ready to go out and meet our shuttle, but we found ourselves corralled and held in the baggage claim area. Every passenger from the last two flights had to line up and have security search their bags (or at least look at the bags and decide if they want to search or not). It took a good hour to get out of there. We had called our shuttle to let him know we would be late. Once we were able to leave, we were told to meet him at Gate 8.

We went out to Gate 8 and were chased away by a soldier who said we weren't allowed to stand there. We couldn't argue with a guy carrying a large firearm, so we tried to watch for the van inside the door. We were told a "blue van", would be picking us up, but we saw plenty of blue vans and weren't sure how to identify our shuttle. We called and asked for more info, but were just told it was a "blue van" again and that the guy had a lot of pickups that day and would get around to us. At least the soldiers went away and people started standing outside, so we did too.

Finally the shuttle came. It advertises a company called "Bluvan", so that's what the dispatcher meant! It was nice of him to explain that! We were on our way.

I couldn't wait to really see Paris, but leaving the airport was disappointing at first. When the plane landed, I saw fields and clumps of buildings. From the air all airports tend to look alike. I could have been landing in the Midwest. On the ground it didn't look too different. I saw highways and city buildings. It could have been NY. It even had the same impatient and crazy drivers (although there was a refreshing lack of SUVs). I finally just gave way to jet lag and nodded off.

When I awoke after my brief nap I looked into the distance and saw Sacre Couer (it's visible from just about everywhere). That had me feeling more excited. Within a few minutes I saw the Seine. Then I looked east and suddenly there it was in front of me - Notre Dame. "There it is," I managed to whisper. Our driver took us right into the heart of the city and I was finally in the Paris that has been in my head all of these years.

The driver took us through the Latin Quarter to drive us to everyone's various hotels. I wondered how I would ever find my way around. We finally made it to our hotel, Les Rives De Notre Dame.

This hotel is 16th century and quite charming. Great lobby.

We were greeted warmly at the front desk, who also served as concierge

We were shown to our room. Kevin's luggage had to come up separately since the elevator was tiny.

Our room was a pretty good size by Paris standards, although small by US ones. We did have ample space for storing our stuff with plenty of room to sit and read or work on our computers. The hotel despite its age had plenty of modern upgrades such as Wi Fi and a flat screen TV. Our bathroom was decent sized and included an actual stand-up shower (I hear those aren't always in every Parisian bathroom) and a heated towel rack. The towels themselves were a bit skimpy, but they did provide nice thick bathrobes along with them. The decor looked a bit worn and there was sometimes a musty smell about the place, but that is to be expected in an old building on a river.

We could also see Notre Dame from our window.

The only problem with the room was our door. It was impossible to open. It had no outside doorknob and you had to work the key just right to get the lock to give way and the door to swing inward. It often took a few minutes of jiggling the key. After a week at this hotel, we never learned the "trick".

The hotel also had a wonderful staff. Everyone was pleasant and helpful.

Once we were unpacked we headed into the heart of the Latin Quarter (just around the corner) for lunch.

After lunch we didn't have much afternoon left. The long wait in the airport security line plus the long wait for our shuttle left us with little time to carry out our plans to visit Notre Dame that afternoon. Rather than wait on the long line for the tower or the long line for the sanctuary, we decided to just walk around the outside and take photos. Then we took a stroll up the Seine for a little ways. I saw my first glimpse of the Eiffel Tower.

We also found a store that sold the museum pass. We really didn't want to visit any sights until we had one. They can reduce waiting time by quite a bit.

We had dinner at a restaurant on the Ile St. Louis that my father had recommended. The wine at this place was unlimited, so we ended up drinking nearly a bottle each. We made it to bed at a reasonable hour with anticipation of visiting both Notre Dame and the Louvre the next day.

Day 2 - Due to the bounceback effect of the wine along with jet lag, I didn't sleep well for much of the night. I was up at 3AM as I always am when I drink wine with dinner. I struggled to fall back asleep and finally did towards morning. We had our heavy curtains drawn so no light was coming in, and we had not thought to ask for a wakeup call. When I finally woke up after sleeping as long as I thought I needed to, I discovered it was almost 11:30! We had wasted nearly half the day sleeping!

Our first order of the day was to hit Notre Dame since it was right across the Seine. We wanted to start with queuing up for the towers and then go inside the sanctuary. With so much of the day wasted, we were afraid the line to go into the towers would already be around the block.

When we arrived there, we had some good news and some bad news. The bad news was that the towers were closed for security reasons from 12-1. The good news was that no one was waiting on line to get in at that point, so we were among the first to enter after they opened. While we waited, the line behind us became very long.

Did I mention it was raining? This was a theme for much of the week. For our first three days we had to deal with cloudy days and intermittent spitting rain.

The tower finally opened and we were allowed in. Our museum pass meant we didn't have to buy a ticket, but we still had to wait in the same line as those who were waiting to buy tickets unfortunately. We went up one set of stairs and were corralled into a gift shop before we could go up again. Oh well. Everyone needs money, right?

We then had to go up hundreds of tight, windy, stairs to get to the top of the towers.

Once we made it to the top, we were treated to breathtaking views of the city as well as close ups of many of the famous gargoyles.

We even took an even tighter and windier staircase up to the very top of the tower as well as a look at the main bell.

After leaving the tower, we went into the main sanctuary. There was a line, but it was constantly moving. The inside of the church is also free, which is a plus.

We wisely bought an audiotour to help us navigate through all of this.

We also decided to buy tickets to go into the Treasury. There were some interesting church artifacts there. I think what stuck with me the most were the old reliquaries. I could see the bone remnants in some of them. I wondered what saints they belonged to and if anyone ever still acknowledged those saints. Are these relics ever still associated with performing miracles? If they don't, does the saint still get credit for being a saint? If science explains away prior miracles, can a saint be decanonized?

After leaving Notre Dame we had lunch and then returned to the Ile De Cite` for more church-peeping. This time it was Saint Chappelle. It was late in the day at this point and we almost missed being allowed in, but I guess the security guard took pity on us.

The chapel on the lower floor is lovely with old relics and statues and some intensely colored stained glass.

Then you go to the upper chapel and are totally blown away by the splendor of it all. This has to be one of the most beautiful churches I have ever seen.

We had managed to cram a lot of stuff into one short day. Satisfied that we had seen everything we possibly could given the time limits, we returned to our hotel and had dinner. We arranged for a wakeup call for the next morning and planned our day.

If Mark Sanchez Wears a Shirt with a Target on It, Does That Give Me the Right to Shoot Him?

2010-09-16T05:53:00.001-07:00

Why is it in our supposedly enlightened day and age, do we still blame the victim? Why do the media demonize the person who was not at fault?

Inez Sainz went to the training camp for a story. She was there to do a job. Various Jets team members were trying to prevent her from doing her job. Why? They wanted a better look at her. Is it her fault that she’s good looking? I have honestly heard it said by TV and radio personalities that if you’re a beautiful woman hanging around a group of jocks in the locker room, you should expect to be gawked at.

I have heard that she was inappropriately dressed. Sainz has said that she was dressed no differently than she normally dresses. She certainly looked hot in those pants, but she would likely look hot in anything short of a muumuu. Does she deserve to be distracted from doing her job because she committed the crime of being a good looking woman with a hot body?

Why do men still feel it’s their “right” to behave in inappropriate ways just because a woman “invites” such attention? Even if she were inviting it, you don’t have to accept the invitation. The entire burden is on the woman to dress in a way that won’t dare excite a man sexually. Why are men given no responsibility in their actions? I know I may at times make disparaging remarks about the male race and how they’re all a bunch of troglodytes, but really, I do believe men can control their impulses.

I know that Sainz has been downplaying the incident, although she did say the Jets were extremely rude, but I just feel this situation is an illustration of a bigger problem in society. Sainz had a job to do. She went to the Jets practice to do it and deserved the same level of respect and courtesy that would be granted any other reporter. The Jets had no “right” to do otherwise just because she’s hot. They could have simply let her do her interview in peace. Tight pants are no reason to throw footballs at someone who is trying to work.

Mark Sanchez looks pretty hot in tight pants. If a group of women started screaming catcalls at him, throwing things at him, and distracting him while he was trying to concentrate on the game, would that be okay? Why would the opposite not apply?

Bedbugs and Nut Dilemmas

2010-09-14T06:02:00.000-07:00

Kevin is convinced we have bedbugs.

It all started when he developed a nasty welt on his wrist that he determined was some kind of bite. There have been some subsequent "bites" although I don't believe any were as ugly as the first one, and he complains often about his whole arm flaring up.

My body is completely unbitten. I'm fine. I start to itch by the power of suggestion when Kevin starts insisting we have bedbugs, but otherwise I'm feeling just dandy. The only marks on my body are the ones I get scratching myself at night as I'm so prone to doing.

I see no evidence of bedbugs on the sheets and mattresses either. Nonetheless, Kevin has called the exterminator. The exterminator agrees that we have bedbugs after hearing Kevin's side of the story. Of course he would say that. He's going to charge us just for the visit. Even if we have no bedbugs, he makes money.

Let him come. I want to play with the beagle.

I just wish he would calm down. He's so paranoid about the bugs that he can't sleep at night. Now he wants to make sure no one else in the house can sleep. He keeps me awake at night telling me he can't sleep. If he's that paranoid about sleeping in our bed, I suggested that he make up the futon in the guest bedroom, or if he's going to sleep on the living room couch, to please use sheets (sheets are easy to wash and getting one's bodily effluvia directly on blankets that aren't washed as often just invite more critters). He keeps sleeping in our bed and making me miserable.

I feel his pain that he can't sleep at night, but I wish he would remember what a delicate thing sleep is for me. I am so prone to insomnia. When I sleep, I sleep lightly. If anyone or anything wakes me up once I'm asleep, it takes me a long time to go back to sleep. Last night I went to bed while Kevin was still up watching the Jets game. "a dream had scarcely approached my ear, when it fled affrighted." I was awakened by Kevin's ranting. All I wanted to do was go to sleep and I had to hear more about the bedbugs.

The exterminator is coming tomorrow. I hope this is all taken care of quickly. I'm tired of being made to suffer for someone else's discomfort!

Yep, that's me. Queen of Selfish.

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And now for something completely different...

I had a crazy ethical dilemma last week.

I was having a dinner party on Sunday and I was making, among other things, duck breasts with a fig balsamic glaze and a chocolate cake filled with hazelnut ice cream.

The one place where I know I can find duck breasts and fresh figs is Whole Foods. I thought I could make a visit on my lunch hour. My current office is between two stores. There is one in Westport and one in Darien.

I opted to go to the Westport one as I also wanted to go to the bank and there is a branch of my bank right down the street from the Westport Whole Foods. I unfortunately forgot that the store was undergoing renovations. When I walked in, the bulk food department was right in front of me. I decided to grab the nuts for my hazelnut ice cream from here since it was so convenient to do so. I took a bagful of nuts from the bulk bins.

I went on to find the rest of my groceries. I found a bottle of xtrav olive oil. I went to the meat department to look for my duck breasts. I knew exactly where to find them. They were usually in a small case of frozen foods right next to where they keep the packages of chicken. Unfortunately, I didn't see them there.

A store employee asked if she could help me find anything. I said I was looking for duck breasts. The woman went to the butcher counter and asked the man behind the counter if he had duck breasts. He said he could give me a whole frozen duck. I said no. I wanted the Bell & Evans frozen duck breast cutlets that were always in the case by the meat department. The woman who originally spoke to me said to try the frozen food aisle if they normally came frozen. How can this woman work for this store and not know that Whole Foods never has any meats in the big frozen foods aisle (just those nasty, heavily processed, unhealthful, artificial, chemical-laden soy fakeouts)?

I went to the produce section for my figs. Also not there.

I realized that this store was not worth my time. I would just have to stop by the Darien branch, which is bigger and better-stocked to begin with anyway.

I put back the few items I had in my basket. The problem was that I had the nuts. They were plucked from the bulk bin and bagged by me. Now what? Could I put them back?

I hadn't really handled them. I hadn't touched them with my hands much. They were scooped from the bin with minimal skin contact. I could probably put them back without touching them as well. Could I do that? Was it allowed? Was it gross?

I decided to give it a shot. I thought if I did it really quietly when no one was looking, I could get away with it. Unfortunately, the entire row of shelving was under construction. Two workers were standing at one end and moving the row around. Some other guy had a dolly and was unloading big boxes right near the hazelnut bin. I could not let them see me pouring nuts back into the bin!

In the end I paid for just the nuts and left the store. I had a tiny piece of my shopping finished. On the way home I went to the Darien branch as planned and bought my figs, olive oil, and duck breasts. Dinner was saved.

That really does make me wonder what one should do if one has a change of heart on something pulled from the bulk bins. I could put olive oil back on the shelf with no problem. I had no recourse once I realized I didn't want those nuts anymore. Such is the dilemma of the modern shopper!

Classic Repost - Vampire Go Away!

2010-09-13T09:09:00.000-07:00

Since I originally posted this two years ago, it seems that vampires have not gone away. They have become bigger and bigger and more ubiquitous. Can I tell you how SICK AND TIRED I am of vampires? If I see another vampire drama on TV, I think I'll gladly offer up my own neck to the next vampire who wants to bite me.

I wish I could figure out where this vampire obsession comes from. What's it all about? Why are vampires, scary, hideous, ugly, undead beasts, so sexy all of a sudden.

Can't we put some kind of moratorium on vampire entertainment? No more vampire movies, comics, books, or TV shows for another 10 years. How does that sound?

Unless you're Terry Pratchett or Christopher Moore of course. Then you can write about vampires all you want because it's actually funny when they write about them.

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It seems the Twilight movie and the books upon which it was based are creating a lot of controversy among vampire-literature aficionados. It seems that Twilight doesn't properly conform to the standard vampire mythology.

What I find funny is that everyone seems to have a different standard of what proper vampire mythology is. Does sunlight kill them or not? Will they eat garlic? Can they handle crosses? How exactly do you kill them? Are they viscious killing machines who will go at it without remorse, or are the misunderstood tortured souls who really don't want to kill people? (Unless you're into From Dusk Till Dawn or 30 Days of Night.)

Twilight doesn't conform to Busty the Vampire Layer. Vampire Layer doesn't conform to Underworld. Underworld doesn't conform to Anne Rice. Anne Rice doesn't conform to Dark Shadows. Dark Shadows doesn't conform to Bela Lugosi movies, which don't conform to Nosferatu. None of it jives with Bram Stoker. Even the vampire spoofs are inconsistent. Compare the urban vampires featured in Christopher Moore's Bloodsucking Fiends and You Suck to the Uberwald vampires featured in Terry Pratchett's Discworld novels (some of whom have reformed). Why does no one complain that the Count from Sesame Street or the Vampire character from The Electric Company don't conform to vampire mythology?

Much of what we see of vampires in modern literature is a very glamorized, American version where monsters are seductive incubi who seem to be irresistable until their true natures are revealed. Male vampires are handsome charmers who seem to be able to charm women into being bitten. Females are sexpot sirens who seem to make being bitten almost an erotic thrill. I'm not sure this is really what vampires were originally supposed to be like.

Go to the places where vampire myths originated and you will see something very different from the slick, smooth, pseudo-humans shown in today's vampire media. The old European vampire myths portray vampires as what they are: evil monsters that people naturally run and hide from. We get a hint of this in Jane Eyre when Bertha sneaks into Jane's room at night. Jane describes Bertha's bloodshot eyes, purple face, and bloated features. The next day she tells Mr. Rochester she was reminded of the "foul German spectre-the vampire." Vampires were traditionally foul, ugly, and scary. Even Bram Stoker did not describe Dracula as being particularly appealing in his novel. I think Americans just like the idea of glamour and the idea that we can flirt so easily with death and evil.

I think that vampire enthusiasts who war over which book or movie is the "correct" vampire legend have to remember one thing: VAMPIRES DON'T EXIST. Yes, Vlad "The Imapler" Dracula was a real person who was considered a war hero, but ruthless against his enemies. Regardless, he's not still flying around at night drinking blood. It's amazing how passionate people will become over something that is completely imaginary. Why is one person's imaginary creature more wrong than another?

I think I'm going to make up my own vampire story. How about a vampire western? A group of cowboys are out on a cattle drive and are bitten by a rabid coyote during a full moon and realize it was a magic coyote and that they are doomed to drink human blood to stay alive. But it has to be special human blood. The blood must be consumed after the victim has eaten a meal of spicy chili. Soon, panic sets in and all of the chili cook-offs in Texas have to be cancelled. A very determined group of chili lovers discovers that these cowboy vampires can be killed by assault rifles. Unfortunately, Barak Obama is now president, and assault rifles are quickly become illegal and very few citizens have secret stashes of them. While a few gun-stashing heros manage to keep the growing group of chili-blood vampires away, another brave group manages to lobby Congress to overturn the damage a Democratic president has wrought. Barak Obama is outsted from the White House by angry mobs with torches and pitchforks and Republicans are now in power forever.

Now what could be a scarier movie than that?

Typical End of Summer Musings

2010-09-09T13:32:00.000-07:00

Since summer is my favorite season, I’m always sad to see it go, and since I’m always sad to see it go, I have to blog about it.

It was a good summer.

Usually it seems that summer zips by far too quickly, but this summer was different. It seemed so long and leisurely. Memorial Day feels light years away from Labor Day. I barely remember the Fourth of July. Even Chincoteague feels like last year.

What was it about this summer? Perhaps it was the weather. Spring came so early this year. We were experiencing spring weather before winter was officially over. We had warm sunny weather for Easter. It felt like a real spring. Then summer arrived and it arrived on time. There were no cold snaps in June that had me reaching for sweatshirts. It didn’t rain all over every outdoor activity I anticipated. Sure we had some extreme heat, but that’s what summer is about. I’d rather relax quietly on a hot day than feel chilled and tense in extreme cold (I have to wonder if those people who say they prefer to shiver than sweat spend the kind of extended hours outside that I do and understand what it means to be thoroughly cold).

Obviously this summer marked the passing of another year, and this one in particular was the passing of another decade. I found myself oddly accepting of that. It was hard to say the word “forty” and it still is, but I don’t feel too traumatized. My hair isn’t too much grayer. I’m more overweight than I have been in my life, but my butt still passes the pencil test and I haven’t developed bat wings under my arms. My teeth haven’t turned yellow (and they wonder why I shun coffee) and I can still do pushups. I have a bad knee, but considering everything else, I think I’m doing okay. I can survive being forty.

So much went on this summer. There was my birthday party. What a joy that was to have so many of my friends and family there. I knew there would be a party, but I had no idea the extent of the people who would come out here for it. I am not just grateful to my friends and family, but I’m also grateful that Kevin would think to do such a thing for me. I have a wonderful husband. I’m so grateful for him every day.

There was Chincoteague. It is always a joy to be there. Nothing particularly different or interesting happened this year, but it was still a joyful trip. What do I remember from this year? I remember riding Cowboy at the Chincoteague Pony Centre and the interesting exercises the instructor had us do for getting him on the bit. I remember Captain Barry’s nature cruise and remembered how many amazing things you can see if you bother to look. I remember the deserted island beach he took us to. I remember the sunset kayak tour where our guide brought us to the back side of Assateague and how we could hear the sound of the ocean just on the other side, and how he plucked clams and oysters from the water and tried to get us to eat them with him. I remember the Pony Swim and the cowboy who fell off his horse.

There was Sian’s birthday party. I spent months wondering how and when her big party would be celebrated and if I would be a part of it. I was so grateful to receive an invitation to her surprise party. I had an amazing day at her party sharing the day with old friends and new. It was unforgettable to see the look on her face when I saw her walk in. I was equally grateful that she and I had some time alone the next day sharing an extraordinary breakfast.

It’s funny. I told Kevin that after Chincoteague was over I did not want to “waste” the rest of summer. I wanted to do as much and experience as much as I could while I still had a summer to do it in. I think we did a good job of that.

This summer I finally started riding Riddle. Let’s just say most of that drama is passed. I guess it has been decided that I’m not so huge and fat that she can’t handle me. Also, her trainer hasn’t been able to be around much and doesn’t ride her as regularly as she used to. Mom knows she needs me to help. She needs a rider who is better and bolder for those days when Riddle isn’t Ms. Perfect. Certainly getting on her back was one way to make for an unforgettable summer.

We spent Labor Day at the barn, staying at Minerals Hotel. It was the perfect ending for the summer. We spent our days riding, mostly riding two horses a day. I spent my down time at the hotel pool swimming laps and jumping off the cliff jumps. I took yoga classes while I was there too. In the evenings we dined out with friends and dined at the Iron Forge Inn. I think I had every kind of experience I wanted to.

That was one way to remind myself that I’m not as old on the inside as I am on the outside. Mostly kids were jumping off that cliff. I had some trepidation as I approached the edge and looked down. It looks much higher at the top than it does at the bottom. I just stepped off the cliff and went down. Once you commit to a fall, you have nowhere to go but down and experience the sweet relief of hitting the water, knowing that you’re in one piece. I think there is a metaphor in there somewhere. Walk over the edge and trust that you can jump. Just jump. Let go and commit to the fall. Eventually you will hit your destintation.

As I will always stubbornly point out, summer isn’t over. We have three more official weeks until the Vernal Equinox. For now the days are still longer than the nights and summer weather prevails. It’s hard to accept this as true summer though. To me summer is defined by one of my favorite activities – swimming. With the pools closed, it seems like summer can’t really still be going on. If you have your own pool, or have access to lakes and beaches that you can get away with swimming at in the off season, then I encourage you to keep the summer going!

I’m not too sad now. Maybe it’s because the summer was so long, because the weather was so perfect, because I had so much and missed so little. Maybe it’s because I have so much to look forward to this fall.

Fall means Paris. It’s hard to believe it will be less than a month until I leave for Paris. Kevin and I were walking to our respective offices yesterday morning and I said to him, “A month from today we will be walking the streets of Paris instead of the streets of NY.” We will be strolling down Champs Elysees instead of 5th Avenuen. It seems hard to believe. Paris went from a city I always wished I could visit, to an abstract idea I was planning to give myself as a 40th birthday present, to money in an envelope, to reality.

Bring on the fall! I’m ready for it.

A Rallying Cry For Reason

2010-08-28T06:44:00.000-07:00

This weekend blowhard du jour, Glenn Beck, and his air headed cheerleader, Sarah Palin, are rallying the country to "take it back."

Some folks are cheering them on. Some folks are scared. Some are indifferent. Me? I'm just incredibly sad. What has this country come to?

Here is a quote from Beck:

"My role is, as I see it, to wake America up to the back-sliding of principles and values and, most importantly, of God. We are a country of God. As I look at the problems in our country, quite honestly I think the hot breath of destruction is breathing on our necks."

From Palin:

"What else do we have, at the end of the day," beyond faith in God."

Well, Sarah, that's a good question.

I'm sure many of the people reading this are asking, "What's wrong with what they're saying? God is an important part of my life and how dare you tell me it can't be. You're Christian bashing."

Let me assure you that I am not. I believe strongly that everyone has a right to believe what they wish as long as they do not harm or control others. I will defend your right to be a Christian with my dying breath. What I don't like is that politicians are using religion, something that should be deeply and profoundly personal, to further their own ends.

Many Christians have the strongly-held belief that it would be a better world if everyone were Christian. Why should they not believe it? If you find happiness, inner peace, and a moral compass in your faith, it is natural to want to share that with everyone. My question is do you believe it is the role of government to bring all of us down that very personal path?

I will out myself right now as an agnostic who often leans sort of pagan and sort of atheist depending on my mood. I don't believe in the Abrahamic patriarchal God/Allah figure, or should I say that I believe He exists because human belief has called him into existence and given Him power. I don't believe that a radical Jew, executed for treason by the Romans in ancient Palestine is somehow responsible for the state of my soul after I die. I consider myself a skeptic on most things, but I'm always interested in hearing about the bizarre and unexplained.

Although I don't consider myself better than anyone else, I don't think I'm terribly immoral either. I consider myself a pretty empathetic, compassionate, and ethical person. There are those who would say my liberal beliefs are due to naivete` or even plain stupidity, but I think they are more due to the fact that I long for a just world. I want a world where children don't starve, where the air and water aren't poisoned, and where people don't kill each other over land, personal honor or differing beliefs. I believe everyone benefits from a well-educated populace and that education should not be a privilege of the wealthy. I believe that the traits that genetics hand us should never hold us back from any opportunities we pursue. Is that immoral?

I have seen during my lifetime a scary political trend. Growing up I lived in a world where those who witnessed massive social and political changes in society were becoming apathetic, jaded and disappointed after Vietnam and Watergate. They weren't politically motivated anymore. Opportunistic politicians began to turn their attentions elsewhere. They saw a group of religious people who were not swept up on the tide of change of previous decades. They felt left behind and disenfranchised and saw a world on the fast track to Hell. They saw society as becoming morally bankrupt. Then there were young people who simply saw a broken world around them. They never knew war or institutionalized racism, or the Depression or the horrid fallout of the Gilded Age. They only saw the past through the filter of television and wished they could be a part of that world too.

The politicians fed on these fears and these wishes. They pandered to these religious groups, and to these hopeless young people, promising a more morally sound world. Our country would return to its nonexistent religious roots if only they could have those votes. The promised the overturning of Roe V. Wade, the reinstatement of prayer in school, and later on, Constitutional amendments to ban gay marriage along with tough immigration laws that played to their fears about strangers taking over their country. They plied them with scare tactics that the opposition would overturn the Second Amendment.

In my lifetime I have seen 26 years of Republicans in the White House and 14 years of a Republican-dominated Congress. Not once during any of this time has anyone introduced legislation to over tun Roe V. Wade. George W. Bush talked a good talk about his marriage amendment during his campaigns, but that fizzled out pretty quickly once he was re-elected. I have also seen 26 years of a Democatic Congress and 14 years of a Democrat in the White House and never once has anyone ever introduced legislation to overturn the Second Amendment. No one has made religion illegal either.

Yes, I know it's supposed to be about taxes, but whose taxes are being protested here? The first of these silly Tea Parties took place when Americans were still paying the taxes imposed by the Bush administration. Since then, I haven't seen any real changes in the tax structures - at least none that affect me personally. I can't imagine anyone else is truly suffering (or not) more than I am just because we have seen exactly one year's worth of Obama's tax structure. It seems to me the protests are really more over imagined taxes rather than real ones.

Let's take a look at who is sponsoring these rallies. As grassroots as the whole organization is meant to look, they are being sponsored by the large corporations who stand to lose the most from a change in the tax structure. We're talking about the top 1% of wealth holders in this country who are controlling the 90% of the wealth. They want to keep their piece of the pie.

Ordinary citizens, particularly those of the Tea Party variety are being played like a country fiddle at a hoedown.

These corporate-funded tea-parties are not a true, grassroots citizens' revolt. They are a joke. They are simply a venting of rage, but they are raging at the wrong organizations. They're raging at the government instead of at the corporations who are pulling the government strings. The peasants will never revolt against their true oppressors. Doing so would be seen as anti-capitalism and that is considered anti-democracy (or perhaps just pro-communism).

Republicans promise to legislate moral values in exchange for votes just long enough to bring a certain segment of the population to the polls. However, once they have the votes, they hardly ever bring it up again until it's time for re-election. They know if they actually enacted any of this legislation, many "values voters" might stop coming to the polls if they had what they wanted. They dangle the carrot in front of the religious right, but they have no intention of giving them what they want and losing their vote in the future.

They promise lower taxes, but taxes really aren't lowered significantly for most segments of the population. They simply cut government programs, which gives the illusion that they're lowering taxes and spending less money. What they're really doing is lowering taxes only for a lucky few and continuing to spend money on things like defense contracts - a far different thing from spending money on properly outfitting our military or seeing to their family needs and health benefits as many Americans might believe. The problem is that once someone needs the programs that have been cut, like education or Social Security, they realize after it's too late that some government programs are serving a vital purpose.

The other boogieman is immigration. I noticed immigration becoming a huge issue when the Iraq war began spiralling out of control and was losing popular support. The Bush administration needed a smokescreen, a scapegoat for the state of the economy, a focus for people's rage. 9/11 gave Americans a fear of the scary brown people from across the sea. Now we could fear scary brown people from directly south of us. So what does the government do? It riles up that fearful segment of the population who are going to look to the government as a protector from the scary people. They have someone to blame for the economy, for their own joblessness.

I wish people would wake up and realize that dictatorial border patrols are not the answer. They're a security blanket and a Band-Aid solution. Illegal immigration is here to stay and it's here to stay for one reason. Companies like Monsanto, ADM, and every other large agribusiness depend heavily on the slave labor of illegal immigrants. They need desperate and impoverished workers to work their fields and processing plants and slaughterhouses. These companies can pay substandard wages and keep their workers in the most deplorable working conditions knowing that their workers can never complain. Whom would they complain to? If we managed to do away entirely with illegal immigration, the prices of our food would likely skyrocket as the labor costs would grow. If that happened, I'm sure most of the population would consider illegal immigration to be a good thing.

Stronger border control is never going to stop illegal immigration. Desperate people will always find a way in. If you want to stop illegal immigration, the government needs to start punishing the corporations that hire illegal immigrants. Since the government is in the pockets of these corporations, this is never going to happen.

If you really have issues with illegal immigration, let's ask why the government isn't doing more to end illegal immigration from human trafficking? Think of all of the women and young girls suffering under such brutal and inhuman conditions. There's a moral values issue for you right there!

But let me get back to the God issue for a moment. How do folks like Beck and Palin conceive of making the government, and the general population, more godly? What would be the structure for such change? Plenty of Americans believe in a god of some sort. They don't all believe in the same god. Even those who do worship the same God as the blowhards claim to worship, they may not worship Him the same way. There are as many ways to worship one God as there are gods in the pantheons of all other religions combined. Isn't the point of the First Amendment about the idea that the government is allowing Americans to choose these things? Yes, for some Amercians, freedom of religion does mean freedom from religion because some of us choose not to have a religion at all. No government should take that away.

So what if the dominionists truly did win? Then what? We establish a religious government based on what religion? The blowhards say "God" in a way that is inclusive right now. Say "God" and most Americans can get behind you because God can be Christian, Jewish, or Muslim. These people aren't really about extending a hand to Jews and certainly not to Muslims. They want a Christian government, using the excuse that the Founding Fathers were all Christian (although most of them were actually Deists). "America is a Christian nation" is the rallying cry of a few. Well, you can say that if you mean numbers-wise as the majority of the population identifies as Christian. In a dominionist world, the Christians will reign supreme.

So the Christians are in control, but what type of Christianity prevails? The religious leaders lusting after political power aren't Catholic. They're not Episcopalian (the ones who ordain women and accept and ordain gays). They're not Quakers (God loves war. Down with pacifists!). They are a very narrow-minded sect of evangelical Christians whose beliefs seem so far away from the teachings of Jesus that they seem like a different religion altogether. I'm sure in the beginning other Christians would be willing to band together with them because they're Christian, but once the dominionists have control, they won't have much use for other types of Christians. Catholics are useful for anti-choice and anti-gay support, but if we overturn Roe V. Wade and legally force gays back into the closet, there won't be much use for Catholics and their belief in aid to the poor anymore. Even Glenn Beck himself would be in serious trouble as he is a Mormon. Christians will accept Mormons as Christians only when it's politically expedient to do so.

Will a Christian government truly bring us to a better country? Will it make us all more morally sound? History doesn't prove that. Some of the most heinous deeds of humanity have been done in the name of God. I know I am not saying what hasn't been said a thousand times before, but it wasn't atheists who were behind the Crusades, or the Spanish Inquisition or The Holocaust or the burning of "witches". The 9/11 hijackers weren't atheists either. If you think a theocracy is the right thing to do, I will ask you if you would like to live under the Taliban. Religion doesn't guarantee morality. What is the one standard of morality that everyone should follow (other than those already in our code of law)? Who should enforce that code, and how should it be enforced?

Here is a quote on a website that opposes religious dominionism.

"In the 19th and early 20th centuries, people thought they could create utopian societies where all of life’s problems would be solved and everyone would be blissfully happy. The only problem with making people happy was the people themselves. They needed to be fixed and changed and molded to fit the ideal, so the ideal society would actually work. But it never did, somehow. . ."

I believe we're a better society if we embrace a diversity not only of race, but of religious beliefs, and yes, even of political beliefs. It makes us better, stronger, happier people if we acknowledge and accept each other's differences.

This is why I implore my fellow Americans to please stop this insanity. Stop these rallies of thinly-veiled hate. Let's take our true power back, and welcome the return of reason. Remember, our Constitution was written during the Age of Enlightenment. Let's enlighten ourselves once more. Let's truly take our country back from those who want to divide us.

OMG! I Did It!

2010-08-12T06:10:00.000-07:00

I’m on my way. I have booked my trip to Paris. Kevin and I will be spending October 2-9 getting fat on French food and acting like crazy American tourists in celebration of our 9th anniversary.

I’m staying at Hotel Les Rives Notre Dame (once the residence of John Steinbeck). I’m hoping this hotel is as great as it looks. It’s a 10-room boutique hotel in the Latin Quarter with a view of the Seine and Notre Dame. The guide books and TripAdvisor all seem to have positive things to say about it. I’m hoping it’s as pretty and convenient as it looks online.

It goes to show you that perseverance does pay off. Just a few dollars here and there really can add up to the things you want. I will admit I did have some help from my family though, and I thank them for that because otherwise I think I might have to put this trip off for a year or two. Even if that happened, I still believe I could have made this happen even if it did mean waiting.

I can’t stop putting money away though. I need money for things like food and entertainment. This is Paris. I need to see museums and Versailles and the Eiffel Tower and boat trips down the Seine and SHOPPING! I have to try to put away a bit more than the $20 per week I’ve been putting away for the past year. I need to start scrimping on everything else so I can save everything for Paris. Let’s hope Kevin doesn’t mind eating beans and tuna for the next 7 weeks.

Yes that’s it. Seven weeks. Can you believe it? All my life I have wanted to see Paris, but I never really imagined the day I would actually make it there.
What’s next? A riding trip through Tuscany? Maybe a riding trip through the Provence or Carmauge. Once you make one dream a reality, so many other things seem possible.

Gluttony

2010-08-08T09:30:00.000-07:00

I am not one of those virtuous people who says, "food is fuel and nothing more," then never eats more than necessary to maintin daily living. I don't eat to live. I live to eat.

I'm sure I would be much thinner and healthier if I didn't take quite so much pleasure in eating. Unfortunately that's the truth. I love preparing and consuming food. My kitchen is the center of my world. It's not as if I don't have other pleasures in life. I love riding and performing and reading and blogging and the sweet sound of my husband's voice. Eating and cooking, however, for better or for worse, rank up there with all of those other pleasures.

I think at times the "Food is Fuel" food police are a little too stringent. Food is a major part of so many cultures and sharing a meal with loved ones is a universal pleasure. What I'm trying to understand is why such a pleasure has become so toxic in our culture.

Earlier this week I was at the gym and I picked up a magazine off the rack to read on the bike. It had an article about what real women eat all over the world. The women came from such diverse cultures as South America, the Middle East, Africa, and Asia. The article listed everything these women ate in a day along with the number of calories each woman consumed.

What shocked me about the article was just how much these women ate in a day. The smallest amount of food consumed was about 1500 calories' worth. The women ate up to 4000 calories per day. None of them looked to be particularly overweight. Compare that with some of these dieting reality shows where participants can drop down to as low as 1200 calories, or the mentality that pervails in this culture of how anyone eating more than 2000 calories per day is a big fat glutton.

What is so unique about Americans and their diets that we collectively put on so much weight and do it so easily?

Is it simply because Americans are just so lazy? Would we all be a lot thinner if we just disconnected and threw away our TVs? What if we stopped living in our cars? We have these cars that are more like living rooms on wheels and I'm not sure that's a good thing. (Stop me now before I go on one of my car rants.) Is it really that simple? Is it really just a matter of physical activity? Let's not forget those of us who hang out on the internet constantly, creating funny Facebook statuses and writing blogs. Is the solution to the obesity problem simply that all of us need to get a hobby that doesn't involve a screen?

Is it something in our food? Most of the women featured in the article ate mostly fresh food. They did eat white rice and couscous, but for the most part, the food was unprocessed. I definitely saw more fruits and vegetables than convenience food. There was an occasional reference to snacks of chips or cookies, but they were in the minority. One of the lowest calorie diets listed contained chips and cookies. Perhaps it's the chemical makeup of the processed foods we eat. There is a big difference between a truly free-range chicken and Chicken McNuggets, or those heavily processed soy-based chunks made to look and taste like chicken. There just may be some truth that the powerful food industry in this country is making us fat.

It all just makes me wonder.

I also think there is a huge problem in our relationship with food. Humans have not evolved much since our days on the savannah. We have a reason to want to consume large amounts in one sitting. We had to prepare for the next inevitable famine. Humans likely gorged themselves on fatty foods in prehistoric times because they never knew when the next calorie-dense meal would be. In many ways we still eat by that instinct.

It just seems that Americans take that mentality to the extreme in a way that other cultures don't. We want to have food everywhere. Events of all kinds are required to serve or sell refreshments, because goddess forbid we should ever feel the slightest bit hungry. When I'm at play rehearsals, there are often doughnuts or Munchkins hanging around. When my niece made her first confession, there was an ice cream party for the kids afterwards.

This weekend I was staying at hotel that provided a free breakfast. Sunday morning I was planning to go out for brunch, but as it was going to be a little later in the day and I had awakened early, I wanted to just grab a snack so I wouldn't be too hungry. (Hmmm...there is that, "I can't ever let myself be hungry" mentality again.) Other hotel guests had practically formed a blockade around the buffet. Every time I tried to get in line or grab something, someone would just shove his or her hand right in front of me and stand there grabbing everything. I just wanted to shout, "Excuse me! Please just let me grab a biscuit so I can get out of here." Adults and children alike were just taking up as much space and food as possible.

My dance teacher has multiple horror stories like this. At Christmas time she holds an open house where classes show off special routines. Attendees are welcome to bring food and it results in a pretty impressive snack and dessert buffet. The teacher told me at last year's open house, parents were standing at the tables shoving and hoarding food into their bags to take with them. It was as if these people never had cookies before.

She had yet another story for me in a similar vein. The studio has ballroom socials on weekends. Once again, as custom seems to require these days, refreshments are served. The teacher usually provides them, store-bought or homemade, but students will often bring stuff as well. One night, a regular student brought a shrimp tray because the teacher liked shrimp so much. They put it on the refreshment table and a few minutes later another couple, who weren't regulars, walked up to the table, and without even taking off their coats, ate almost every shrimp on the plate. Now did they really need to do that?

What is it about food that makes us all so nuts? We turn into animals whenever we're presented with free eats. It's sort of scary. Are we all hoarding fat for the winter?

There are no easy answers I guess. The best any of us can do is stick to fresh food, get plenty of regular activity, and show a little restraint at the free buffets.

The Utterly Boring and Completely Unnecessary Vacation Recap

2010-08-02T16:36:00.000-07:00

Well, you know I have to tell you all about it because that’s how I roll.

Day 1 – We were off to a good start. We left home right before 7AM and had a quiet ride the whole way down to Virginia. We stopped at a turnoff on the causeway so we could get our first glimpse of the new bridge. It was strange coming onto the island right on Maddox St.

When we arrived at our hotel, it was two hours till check in time so we thought we would walk around a bit and check in later. Then our room suddenly was ready.

Once we unpacked, we headed to the beach. On our way there, we stopped at the pony pens. Only the southern herd was there at that point, but we could at least say hi to Surfer Dude.

I saw my mother and Don there. They were on their way back from the beach. Mom warned me the water was quite cold. She was right. It didn’t stop me though. I just grabbed my boogie board and took the first good wave. When you have something to concentrate on, the water isn’t so bad.

We had dinner at Chincoteague’s only Mexican restaurant that night. I had never eaten there before. It was pretty good, but there are better ones at home.

Day 2 – We were up early to watch the firemen run the northern herd down the beach and lead them to the southern pens. Our goal was to park at the pens and walk to the beach. It’s a bit of a schlep, but it means that you don’t have to wait an hour to get out of the beach parking lot after the ponies come by. Well, when we tried to park, a bunch of park rangers chased us away. That never happened before. We were early enough to get a spot close to the entrance of the parking lot, so we were among the first on line to leave after the ponies ran down the beach.

We saw a beautiful sunrise while we waited.

It took well over an hour for the ponies to come. It’s always a pretty spectacular site though. For a few years the joining of the herds had become a huge event. There used to be hordes of people on the beach in the morning. I suppose people liked to go to it because it gives you a better view of the ponies than you would have at the Swim (if you stand on shore at the Swim and not on a boat). This year there weren’t nearly as many people and there were many tourists who said they didn’t even know about it. I think the fire company stopped publicizing it. For many years it was a little-known event. I was probably going to Chincoteague for 4 or 5 years before I heard about it. I think it just grew too much. The crowd control was becoming a problem. If they keep the merging on the down-low, they get a smaller crowd and they need less security.

Kevin and I did some shopping after breakfast and then it was back to the beach for the afternoon. Once again the water was really cold.

That evening my aunt, Su Mei came from her home near Ocean City to have dinner with all of us. It was a nice evening.

Day 3 – Tuesday is one of the few leisurely mornings you get during Pony Penning week. After breakfast I didn’t know what to do with myself. I took a long walk just for some exercise. It was nice to see the town while it was still waking up.

Later that morning we had riding lessons at the Chincoteague Pony Centre. They know us pretty well over there now. I joke we should make Tuesday at 11 a standing lesson every year. They know my favorite horse – Chincoteague Cowboy. He’s always waiting for me when I come. Kevin’s favorite horse, Raindrop, was not there this year. He rode a young horse named Misty’s Morning Glory instead. She is a great-great-granddaughter of Misty. He wasn’t too fond of her. He said she was too lazy.

After lunch it was back to the beach of course. The water was warmer today, but it was also rather calm. I noticed there were better waves at a sandbar a little farther down the beach from where I was sitting. I decided to swim out to it.

I began to swim dragging my board and found I was getting tired quickly. It was a long time since I had done that much swimming or swum in ocean waves. I had to stop on the board and rest once or twice. I finally made it to the bar and caught some awesome waves. However, once I started riding them in as far as they would go, I realized just how big the sandbar was in the middle. There was hardly any gap between the sandbar and the shoreline. I didn’t need to swim all the way out like that. If I had gone out to the right spot, I could have walked almost the entire way!

Mom and Don were at the beach with me and Mom told me that I was out there an hour and a half. What can I say? I get so in the zone sometimes. I was out there floating on my board, the sun was shining overhead, the waves were nudging around me in their beautiful sea-green glory, the sky was blue, and the world could not have seemed more beautiful or perfect. It was just one of those “Life can’t get any better than this,” moments.

That evening before dinner we headed to the Beebe Ranch. Billy Beebe is cousin to Maureen Beebe and the late Paul Beebe who were featured in the Misty of Chincoteague books. His family’s farm was right next to the farm where Misty was born. After Marguerite Henry owned Misty for a year or two, she was returned to the Beebe family and she moved to Billy’s farm and was Billy’s pony. Although the events of Stormy, Misty’s Foal use the characters of Paul and Maureen from the first book, the book actually took place on Billy’s ranch. After his parents died, Billy and his wife put everything they had into preserving the ranch and they took back the stuffed bodies of Misty and Stormy (previously being kept by friends at another facility on the island). The ranch is filled with memorabilia and is open to visitors during Pony Penning week.

People always tell me to say hi to Misty for them, so I took this photo.

We had dinner at a Vietnamese restaurant on the island. Yes, there is actually a Vietnamese restaurant on Chincoteague. It’s very successful too. Whouda thunk?

Day 4– The word on the street was that slack tide would not be until around 11AM, so we did not have to wake up and board the boat quite as early as we sometimes do. We met Captain Barry at 5AM instead of 4 like last year. What a luxury!

We enjoyed a beautiful sunrise at the swim spot and then did the usual waiting around for hours. Things are never dull on Barry’s boat of course, and time passed quickly. There is a group of us that is permanently booked for Pony Swim on Barry’s boat, so it’s like hanging with old friends.

One of the group had brought her nephew with her on the swim this year and he was passing the time by crabbing. He caught one around the time that our friend Roe, the Chincoteague Pony Association PR guy, came by with some media people on his boat. Barry started joking around with him and grabbed the crab that the boy had just caught. He threw it at the boat. I don’t think he meant to aim it as well as he did. It headed straight toward a photographer sitting up front. Not wanting to be hit in the face with a crab, she shielded herself with her camera. It hit the end of her telephoto lens. She had a protector on it, but she was really unhappy about that.

The weather was hotter and sunnier than it had been in year’s past, so it was becoming a bit uncomfortable, but finally the flare went off, and the ponies were in the water.

After we head out of the swim site, Barry docks the boat at a friend’s dock and we get out and watch the Saltwater Cowboys parade the ponies down Main Street on the way to the carnival grounds. It’s always fun to watch.

Once the Swim was over, I was feeling queasy from all of the junk food I had snarfed on the boat (every try pepper relish potato chips?) and was feeling rather tired. The sky had become overcast. I gave up on it being a beach day and tried to just do some shopping. I wasn’t into it. I was in a terrible mood. The sky cleared up and the weather grew hotter and I didn’t know what to do with myself. Kevin offered to drive me to the beach for a couple of hours before dinner. Once I was there, I was immediately cheered up. The ocean can do that to a person.

I was still queasy though. I had been wanting to go to Woody’s Barbecue Shack *drool* for dinner, but I couldn’t stomach it. We ended up at the carnival where Kevin could have his favorite crab cake sandwich. I just had a sno-cone.

Day 5 – Auction time! I didn’t go to the auction. I’ve seen it enough times. It can be really dull sitting there for 3+ hours while they bring out pony after pony. It can be fun to see what they go for, and the auctioneers can be entertaining, but I’m not really into it anymore. Kevin and I went out for a nature cruise on Captain Barry’s boat instead.

The other couple that was supposed to be on the cruise with us that morning never showed, so we had Barry to ourselves. That meant we could control where we wanted to go. Kevin’s priority was to take wildlife photos, so Barry took us to popular bird hangouts. He said it was much easier to take us around since he doesn’t have to put on the same show or tell the same stories he always has to tell (we heard them all before). One thing I have to say is that Barry’s language is way saltier when he’s among friends.

We saw all kinds of birds and also explored some of the little islands on the back bay. One of them was pretty well developed and had a lovely beach, which Kevin and I had all to ourselves. We took a walk and I had a brief swim. I joked with Kevin that Barry had given us free rein to take as much time as we wanted on this totally deserted beach and that we should take advantage. He didn’t bite.

We had lunch at the Chincoteague Inn where Barry docks his boat. I felt frisky and had a margarita with lunch. It felt like another totally perfect day.

We were back to the beach in the afternoon with Mom and Don. There was more great surf and warm water. At the end of the day we had our first rain all week. At least it waited until dinner time to start.

Day 6 – It was our last full day. I wanted to do our laundry as soon as I woke up. I know it sounds weird to want to do laundry on vacation, but I like having it done before I come home. That way I can just put everything away when I unpack and I don’t have to worry about having clean clothes the day after I come home. It’s just one less thing to worry about. I always like it when I can find a drop-off service, but there wasn’t anything like that in Chincoteague, so I had to do it myself.

I started at 6:30. Someone had the same idea and was already using the dryer when I entered the laundry room. She was finished with the washer, but she was using the dryer. Unfortunately, the dryer was extremely slow to dry clothes. I think I had washed two loads before her clothes had dried. Then it took another two hours for my laundry to be dry. I had hoped to be finished before breakfast, but I wasn’t finished until about 10 AM. It’s a good thing we had no interest in watching the ponies swim back to Assateague that morning.

The day wasn’t lost. Kevin and I contemplated either going miniature golfing or going to the Oyster Museum (which is being renamed Museum of Chincoteague even if the signage on the museum doesn’t currently show that). It took us all of 20 minutes to go through the entire thing. We ate lunch and Kevin dropped me off at the beach and Kevin went to Roe’s house to look at duck carvings (Roe is a carver, which is how we became friends with him).

The water at the beach was really cold that day. It was colder than it was on Sunday and Monday. I had some trouble going in. I had to tough it out though because I knew I wasn’t going to be swimming in the ocean for another year.

In the early evening I went on a sunset kayak tour. Jay, the guide I have been going out with for years, is no longer on the island. I had to try out a new guide. His name was Ray. He wasn’t bad. He wasn’t a Chincoteague native, or even a resident, so he didn’t have that local color thing going on. He did take us to some placed I hadn’t ever kayaked to though. We went to the bay side of Assateague and saw some great birds (green herons, ospreys, ibises, blue herons, and egrets). We even caught a glimpse of a pony. The sunset was spectacular. It was the perfect ending for the week.

We had a late dinner at our favorite restaurant, Bill’s, and then went to bed.

Day 7 - *Sob* *Sniff* Time to go home. Kevin and I had a leisurely morning. We ate breakfast late (after I had a swim in the hotel pool) and then decided to check out some local real estate listings. Going to Chincoteague always gives us the bug to move down there. We took one last drive to Assateague to see if we could see the ponies back on the island (and we did). Then we stopped at Pony Tails for taffy to take home to our friends.

On our way home we discovered a great diner in Delaware for lunch. We hope to make that a traditional drive-home-from-Chincoteague-lunch spot in the future.

So now I’m home and getting insulted when people compliment my tan. Everything is back to normal.

Bags

2010-07-23T07:40:00.000-07:00

I was purchasing some beach reading for my upcoming vacation at Barnes & Noble and needed a pen to sign the credit receipt. I asked the cashier for one. I might have had one on me, but I knew I could never find it easily in the giant bag I was carrying.

How did I get to this point?

In college I did what was expected of me and ditched the traditional purse for the more utilitarian backpack. While walking around campus I didn’t need to be carrying anything other than books, pens, notebooks, and my key. When I wasn’t going to class, I never needed more than my room key and ID card, both of which would fit nicely in my pocket, provided I was wearing clothes with pockets. My ID card holder/key fob combo could also hold small amounts of money and driver’s license if need be. Things that didn’t fit in my pockets and didn’t need to be transported via backpack were rarely necessary.

Post college I took on the same attitude. When I went out, I much preferred to carry things like a man. The wallet went in one pocket and the keys in another. I never needed more than that. Wallets were smaller and thinner in those days because they didn’t hold much. I always felt so liberated to not be carrying a purse, and then always be worried about where to put it or being victim of a purse snatcher.

So why is it that twenty years later I’m carrying the biggest, most burdensome bag ever?

First of all, the wallet just can’t fit in a pocket anymore. Wallets don’t just carry a driver’s license, some money, car info, and single credit card. Now my wallet holds my personal credit card, my company credit card, my HSA credit card, and a debit card. It carries my insurance cards. It carries the various preferred shopper’s cards from the places I regularly shop. Forget photos of loved ones. The only other photo in that wallet is the one of me on my ID card for my New York office building. The wallet is so thick that it doesn’t even fit into some of my smaller bags.

Beyond the wallet, I now have to carry more than just keys and the emergency tampon along with my necessary lip balm. Nope . I have to carry a cell phone, a note book, pens, lipstick for post-lunch touch-ups, and, four out of 7 days, a laptop computer along the power cord. If I’m visiting clients, I have to carry around company literature to hand out. When I’m commuting on the train, I also like to have a book or magazine to help pass the time. If I’m with Kevin, it’s likely that he may ask me to put his books and papers in my bag as well.

Did I mention keys? My keys are an entity unto themselves. In college it was just my room key. Then I graduated and I had a single house key and a single car key. Now I have the key to the outer door of my building, the key to my apartment, the key to my mailbox, a key to my mother’s place, an electronic fob to get into my office building after hours, and the key to my actual office door. My car keys don’t even fit on the same ring and I have to carry them separately.

I never liked carrying a purse. I always hated the burden of always having to keep a hand on a bag to avoid theft or simply to avoid having it bang against my body while I walked. In college I had the revelation one day that it was really dumb to carry a backpack one-shoulder style. I might as well go back to carrying a purse like I did in high school. I found that if I wore my backpack the way it was meant to be worn and actually slip my other arm through the second strap, I could walk upright and have both hands free. It was the most liberating thing ever, especially when it showed everyone that I really didn’t care what they thought of me. I was making myself more comfortable and thumbing my nose at conformity at the same time.

It was also during the collegiate and post-collegiate years that fanny packs came into fashion for a brief time. Talk about liberating! As the stuff I needed to carry was beginning to outgrow the confines of my pockets, but was still not enough to fill a backpack, I could put that stuff in a fanny pack and still be able to walk straight and tall and have both hands free. Too bad fanny packs had their day in the sun and then became too dorky even for me to want to be seen with one. I confess I will still use them in amusement parks and other excursions where I will be walking around all day (they are a godsend on long trail rides when you need a place to store both cameras and toilet paper), but I’d never be seen walking around the streets of New York City with one.

So I have come to a point in my life when I have to not only carry a purse, but I have to carry a big purse. Having a big purse is a big pain. It’s heavy (when my laptop is in it), it’s awkward. I have trouble finding things in it. I don’t really have much choice though. I can carry something smaller on weekends and vacations, but I when it comes to work, it has to be the big bag.

At least I have a beautiful new bag. My mother bought me a lovely Dooney & Bourke bag for my birthday. It’s the kind of bag I would never buy for myself because I would never be able to justify the expense. I don’t have much truck with designer bags (another non-conformity thing), but this one is very elegant and understated. I just don’t like splashy logo bags that scream, “I’m a Coach/Louis Vuitton/Gucci/Etc. My owner paid a lot of money for me. Aren’t you impressed that my owner has that much money?” I don’t want to carry the same bag everyone else is carrying. It doesn’t appear that I currently am.

So is being forced to carry a big expensive bag a sign that I have grown up? God I hope not!

The Art of the RSVP

2010-07-20T06:18:00.000-07:00

In the past 15 years I have thrown countless dinner parties, one wedding, and one very large birthday party. I find that one of the toughest aspects of throwing a party, no matter how small and casual or how large and spectacular, is getting people to actually tell you they're coming.

Sometimes it feels as if etiquette is a lost art. Obviously there are plenty of aspect of traditional etiquette that have been thrown out the window in the past few decades and rightly so. Trying to fall along the lines of specific modes of behavior to the point where it makes people uncomfortable is not an admirable goal. On the other hand, there are aspects of etiquette that I feel should not go the way of the raised pinky. These are the rules that exist because they're not only polite, but can also avoid confusion, unnecessary expenditures, and hurt feelings.

I'm talking about responding to invitations, whether that invitation is a quick phone call or a formal invitation. It seems that these days pepole think that responding to invitations is optional, and committing to the event once you have responded is unnecessary. It seems there is an extreme lack of empathy for hosts who are putting time and money into an event and would like to know who is showing up and would like to not spend money on a guest who flakes out.

Since I'm always in the process of hosting something, I can't tell you how many times I've had my feelings hurt by callous rejections, no-shows, and wafflers, and I've been majorly angered by wasted money and food spent on last-minute flakes. Ever since Kevin and I were engaged ten years ago I have been a fan of Etiquette Hell, who supports my belief that an RSVP to an event should never be optional, and should be committed to once given.

I have my requests for anyone who ever is invited to an event ever again.

Once you receive an invitation, check your schedule. Look at your calendar. If your calendar isn't showing any conflicts, but you think you might have one anyway, make some calls. If you think you want to attend the event, then make sure you can.

Respond as soon as possible. There are some etiquette rules that say if you receive an invitation and your schedule is clear, you respond positively (provided the event does not require too much in terms of travel time and money). I don't believe that you have to attend something you don't want to attend. You can say no. Just say it right away. Your hosts will be very pleased with the immediate reponse. This goes double for things like wedding invitations where the hosts may have provided the postage for you. Don't wait forever and then leave the invitation lying around the house for weeks on end until you lose it and then don't know the deadline date (Yes, I've been guilty of this myself). You know if you can or can't go? Good. Tell the hosts NOW. Don't make them have to chase you with phone calls.

Don't wait for something better to come along. It's a risk that the event might be lame. Something else might come up with your cooler friends. You sit and waffle. Do you respond to the invite at hand, or do you hope that maybe there is something more fun on the horizon? Once again you'll have your hosts chasing you with phone calls trying to get an answer from you. Most people don't enjoy being pushy, so it makes everyone uncomfortable all around. I'm sorry, but you have to commit. You have to take a chance and commit to the event and risk missing that better event that may or may not come along, or else you commit to the the possible better event. Just do it. Take a chance. Make a decision one way or another. Chances are if you commit to the event, you might just enjoy it as much as anything else you would have missed. Really, what better thing were you thinking was going to happen? I really doubt an all-expenses-paid trip to Bora Bora is going to drop out of the sky and you'd have to miss it for your aunt's dinner party.

Don't make excuses. You don't want to come? Fine. Just say you can't make it. Say you have a prior commitment. You don't need to explain yourself. If you just say you can't make it, your hosts will never know any better. However, in the internet age, trying to lie your way out of an event can really bite you in the butt. If you're going to tell your hosts that you can't make their event because you have to help your Aunt Tilly move furniture or because you're going to be holed up all day with a work project, be very careful about what you say in public. If you mention on your Facebook page how much you look forward to spending the weekend at your friend's beach house, you host now will know he was lied to, and hurt feelings can ensue.

Don't flake out at the last minute. It happens. Sometimes you don't quite follow the first rule and suddenly realize that you can't make the event you just said you would attend because you really did have a prior commitment you forgot about. If you discover this, make sure that this doesn't happen the week before the event. You should not be deciding the week or the day of the event that you're not going. Etiquette dictates only two reasons why you can cancel an event you're committed to. One is illness and the other is an illness or death of a family member. Legitimate reasons do no include seeing the guest list and suddenly realizing you don't know anyone on it, terrorits knocking down the Twin Towers 3 weeks earlier, your dog going to the vet three days earlier, or just suddenly deciding that you don't feel like going. Remember, if it's the last minute, your portion is already paid for, so you're making the hosts eat the cost. If you opt to simply not show and you clearly are healthy and uninjured and have a healthy family, it can cause a lot of hurt feelings too. Parents do sometimes have issues with babysitting, but plenty of times if this is explained to the host, if the hosts want you there, arrangements can be made.

To sum up the rules, if you receive an invitation, say yes, say no, just don't say nothing. Stand by what you say. Everyone will be much happier.

Always Sad When It's Over

2010-07-18T13:12:00.001-07:00

After weeks of wondering and anticpating and trying ever so hard not to overspeculate, my birthday has ended. I did my best not to discuss it with Kevin. I didn't want him to feel pressured, nor did I want him to give anything away. It was hard to wait though. I kept wondering about the who, what, and how of things. A week ago, after reading this blog, Kevin cracked and told me it would be a "family party". Of course that's hardly a surprise. My family never misses a party!

I did have a bit of fun razzing my friends and family. They knew something and while I wasn't going to try to worm it out of them, it was fun watching them try to keep their voices calm and keep a straight face while discussing it. I'm so evil! Sometimes they made things a bit too obvious. My mother asked me a week ago how Abbey was and if she planned to visit any time soon. That seemed like a big setup if ever there was one. Speaking of razzing - I learned from the master! She wanted to see how I would respond to questions about when I would see Abbey again. I was on to her and thought, "There is a good chance Abbey will be at this party."

Yesterday afternoon I can not even tell you how nervous I was. Where would this party be? Who would show up? I realized that by building things up in my head, I could potentially be setting myself up for disappointment. We came home from the barn on the late side, but Kevin seemed totally unconcerned. He must have been struggling inside. The only thing I did to break his calm exterior was tell him I wanted to go pick up a perscription at CVS. It was about 6:30 and we had a 7:30 reservation. He warned me that time was running short.

Not knowing where the party would be, I quickly showered and dressed and was ready before 7. Kevin was lying on the bed taking a nap. For a guy who thought me taking a walk down the street to CVS would make us late for a 7:30 reservation, he certainly wasn't in any hurry to get himself ready. I was thinking of going over to CVS anyway. (Had I gone, I might have run in to some of the partygoers, which was what he was desperately trying to avoid.) It was probably 7:25 before he was ready and he was still taking his time.

We left by going down the back stairs of our building. From there we could have either gone into the garage for his car, or kept walking. He kept walking. That pretty much answered my question of where we were going. There are plenty of restaurants within walking distance, but our favorite is Rani Mahal, and Rani Mahal is big enough to accomodate a party. Kevin finally said to me, "I did tell you that we're going to Rani Mahal tonight." I said, "No, but since we're walking in that direction, I figured that's where we were headed." I joked that he also could have had the party at Molly Spillane's. Kevin said he was deaf enough already without having to deal with the loud music at Molly's.

As we walked through the parking lot, I started observing the cars. I know what kinds of cars my immediate family members drive, but I couldn't tell you what everyone else drives. Then there are friends who would not likely drive at all like Abbey, who usually takes the train. I do know that there was one person whose car I could identify and that was Sian. I know she drives a Saturn (or did when I last was in a car with her) and that she would have Maryland plates. Sure enough, as I walked down the line of cars, I saw a Satun with Maryland plates. I said nothing to Kevin, but smiled inwardly. Yes! Sian was there.

I walked into a nearly empty restaurant. Only a few tables were occupied. Kevin said, "I think we're sitting back here." He went around the bar and I realized for the first time that Rani Mahal has a party room in back.

He opened a curtain and there they all were. Kevin had managed to pull together my friends and family from just about every aspect of my life. There were my horse friends, my theater friends, my high school and college friends, Kevin's friends, and Kevin's family. Kevin's brother flew in from Chicago. Sian had come from Baltimore and Abbey had come from Philadelphia. Greg was there and we get together so blessedly little these days. He had remembered to include the Harrison Players. My cousin Matt came with his wife and their weeks-old twins whom I had yet to meet. He hadn't left anyone out.

He had a Blurb book made up of photo spanning my entire life. It's sort of like the album I made for him on his birthday except he was much kinder and didn't put in the ugly school photos!

Not much more to say about the evening. I had to do quite a bit of circulating to make sure I spent time with all of the guests. I hope I did that well enough.

We had plenty of good food. Kevin did well in the department. The appetizer buffet would have fed everyone by itself, but after a while the waitstaff brought in bowls of korma and tikka masala and chana masala and aloo gobi, and saag paneer with bowls of basmati rice and baskets of naan bread. We had plenty for the omnivores and the vegetarians and managed to satisfy the folks who said they hated Indian food or else had simply never eaten Indian food before.

The restaurant provided some Indian desserts, but we also had a big double chocolate cake. Mom told me the cake was her domain. She bought it from the chi chi Black Forest Bakery in Greenwich. She did well. Mothers know what their kids like after all.

I didn't have the house ready, but it hardly mattered when Abbey and Sian said they were staying at our place last night. It's always awesome to have two of my best girlfriends staying with me for the night. Sian got to try out the new guest room.

The next morning we had breakfast at the Ritz Carlton in White Plains with Kevin's family (Kevin's brother and mother were staying there for the night). Bob and Susan and Malcolm had to rush out of there pretty quickly to catch their plane home, but we did manage to have a few more good times together before it all had to end.

The crash after the big build up is always hard. It's pretty lonely now. I stayed home to clean up, put away gifts, and write thank-you notes. I miss everyone already. I do have some super memories though. Thanks to everyone who came and many many many thanks to my wonderful husband for putting this all together!

Those Dumb Things That Really Irk Me

2010-07-12T12:45:00.000-07:00

Today I get an email from someone claiming our database is giving her incorrect numbers.

She points out that there are places where 3 or 4 or even 5 companies are showing the same number on certain line items. Let's say, for example, that Endeavor, ENI and Exxonmobil are all showing that the repair and maintenance expenses were $2MM. Okay? Why is that? Keep in mind that those two companies do not proceed or succeed each other in the database. Both alphabetically and peer-wise they aren't together. There were 3 or 4 instances like this in the data run the client sent.

I went into the database and pulled the numbers myself. I pull the same companies, the same metrics, and the same time periods. In the example listed above, Endeavor had the $2mm maintenance cost and Eni and ExxonMobil had no reported numbers for those years.

It seemed to me that whoever downloaded this information simply copied the Endeavor information into the blank cells below it onto the spreadsheet. I don't know why this person did that. Maybe it was just some clueless intern who then handed the spreadsheet to the horrified analyst.

It just gets my goat that this was clearly not an error of our database and just someone using Excel incorrectly and I get huffy emails asking how reliable our database is. The hardest part was pointing this out more diplomatically than I'm doing in this blog!

Those Dumb Things That Surprise Me

2010-07-09T13:41:00.000-07:00

Who here reading this blog refers to fruit as "hand fruit"?

A few years ago I was at a farm stand with a friend examining the nectarines and she said, "Nectarines are my favorite hand fruit."

I don't know why I found the term, "hand fruit" amusing. I had never heard it before. I thought it was an interesting and accurate turn of phrase. I figured my friend made it up herself. She was an English major. She's bound to come up with perfect descriptive phrases. That's what writers do.

I never really thought much about the term again until the first time I visited the little cafe located in my new office building (the relocated Connecticut office and not the temporary NYC office). I was hungry and wanted a snack and was hoping I could find some fruit there.

They had a display of fruit on a tiered tray and a price list. The list said:

Banana, $.75
Seasonal Hand Fruit $.95

So that phrase "hand fruit" isn't something my friend made up. There is such a thing as a hand fruit. (That day, the fruit in question was peaches and they were darned good peaches.)

Of course, I can't just be satisfied that the term "hand fruit" is one in wide circulation, yet unbeknownst to me. I now have to contemplate what constitutes a "hand fruit".

They refer to the non-bananas as hand fruits, but not the bananas themselves. Does that mean that bananas, even though you eat them out of hand, don't count as hand fruits, or were they merely using the term hand fruit to describe anything that's not the perpetual and cheap banana. You can't eat a banana directly out of hand. You do have to peel it first. Does that mean oranges are not hand fruits either? You not only have to peel them (which is easier to do with a knife), but they're much less messy if you section them first, and it's also advisable to have a plate handy so the juice doesn't get everywhere.

Do grapes and berries count as hand fruits? You can eat them with your hands, and you can even eat them out of hand if you grab a few at a time. Still, they're more like "finger fruits" rigth? I mean, the berries you see at the office cafe are part of a fruit salad. You don't see them on the hand fruit tray.

It's Friday afternoon, the heat wave has not abated, and my brain is finished with doing any hard thinking. The best you're going to get to me is this type of navel contemplation.

Have a great weekend.