I'll Race You

Hello World,

Happy Memorial Day weekend! I hope that you will have a memorable time, and good weather besides. Things here are showing tiny, incremental signs of progress, and I'm cautiously optimistic that the worst of our weather is behind us. In fact, it was two weeks ago that I spotted a Mourning Cloak in our front yard, and although they are famous among butterflies for showing up early, I still thought it was way ahead its time. Of course, it might have easily been a mis-identification on my part, since it was wearing a winter coat and earmuffs when I saw it.

At work, I happened to bump into one of our doctors, an internist, wandering the hallways in my building, and obviously in search of something that he hadn't found. Everyone knows I'm nothing if not helpful, so I asked him how I could be of assistance. He said he was trying to return his paycheck to the Payroll department, because instead of paying him for 40 hours, they had only paid him $40.00 instead, and when they took the deductions out of that, it ended up being $3.93 for the whole week, which as he pointed out, wasn't even the minimum wage. I said, “You didn't get that memo!” and we had a good laugh over that one. And this is how they treat the doctors, mind you!

Meanwhile, for those of us who wanted to be surrounded by 500 grouchy Lutherans all yelling at each other, we were in luck, because last week was the Metro New York Synod Assembly, held this year on the sprawling grounds of St. Peter's church in Huntington Station. Usually they have the Assembly in a hotel, with the plenary sessions in the ballroom, and everyone complains about the cost of registration. This time, they decided instead to have it at one of our congregation's churches, with the plenary sessions in the sanctuary, and once they ordered a tent and box lunches for everyone, the registration ended up being just as expensive. Astute businesspeople, these Lutherans!

Anyway, I always go to the Assembly, if only for the entertainment value, which is generally inadvertent, but there you have it. I stayed overnight at my Mom's on Long Island, so going back and forth to Huntington on Friday and Saturday was relatively manageable, although St. Peter's is considerably off the beaten track, which you would think would be impossible in that area. And I would like to say right here and now that at 7:30 in the morning for those two days, the Southern State Parkway was packed solid in all three lanes in both directions, so don't bother to complain to me about the economy.

When I first got to St. Peter's, I noticed they had erected a series of enormous tents outside, which turned out to be for the registration and meals. Considering that it was 60 degrees and raining, the idea of eating outside didn't really have a lot of appeal. Our friends at Thrivent Financial Services tried to soften the blow by providing a nice breakfast buffet of muffins, Danish, croissants, bagels, bialys and cream cheese, plus coffee and juice. After that, we took our places in the sanctuary and hunkered down for the business at hand. The Bishop opened the Assembly by saying, "Don't make me use this!" and showed us a tiny gavel that when he tapped it, made a huge crashing noise, and everyone laughed. Then he introduced his staff, including his assistant, "Joanne Strunk, without whom, I don't exist." She got a nice round of applause. One of the announcements he had to make was about the "Assembly helpers" who would assist us with our questions or problems, and we would recognize them by their red vests. He looked up to see the Assembly committee staff all shaking their heads, because apparently that had changed since the announcement had been written, so the Bishop quipped, "So if you need help, just look for someone who is NOT wearing a red vest." We all laughed.

The Bishop is a good sport, and well-known for being loyally in the Yankees camp, although he tries hard not to be partisan, especially in an area like Long Island, which tends to be more supportive of the National League franchise instead. When the time came for him to give the Bishop's Report, it included an audio-visual presentation that began with the title, date and his name. After that, someone had inserted a prank slide with his name that said, "Truly a Mets fan" and had a picture that had been altered to look like the Bishop wearing a Mets cap. Honestly, I thought the roof was going to fall in, people laughed so hard, and the Bishop most of all. That was about the only thing they agreed on all day.

Everyone knows that Lutherans have been arguing about this Task Force on Human Sexuality now since the Dinosaur Age (and I ought to know, because I helped out on the cave drawings about it) and this time was no different. In fact, it started right after the announcements, before the plenary session was technically underway, and as much as Lutherans apparently love a good fight, this had all the earmarks of turning into a real free-for-all. But apparently, people on the inside of this squabble have gotten tired enough of it that they changed the rules in the off-season, and so were able to basically steam-roller over the opposition with impunity. This certainly had the effect of moving the process along a lot more expeditiously, although it did generate even more ill will than usual, which for the Assembly, is really saying something.

Pretty soon, it was time for lunch, and we tramped outside to the tents to see what delicacies awaited us. It was obvious in the planning stages that the biggest concern must have been how to keep the food and attendees cool in late May outdoors, when they figured it might have been uncomfortably warm, and I don't doubt that they could have done a pretty good job of it. Unfortunately, what we had instead was 500 cold and grouchy Lutherans huddled together and freezing, eating chilled sandwich wraps with iced soda in a tent ringed with fans, and the wind blowing the wet plastic side panels against our chairs. I can now say from experience that this plan has nothing to recommend it. Perhaps in nicer weather, the box lunches would have been a pleasant treat. They featured a sandwich wrap, with a cup of macaroni salad, potato chips, cookies and bottled water, plus utensils, napkins, salt and pepper all in one handy package. There was a choice of wraps, including roast beef and cheese, turkey salad, or grilled vegetables, although I discovered that my grilled vegetables turned out to be nothing but sliced portobello mushrooms and a red pepper. (They had the same lunch choices the next day, and I found the grilled vegetables had improved to include not only the portobellos and pepper, but also zucchini, button mushrooms, eggplant and green peppers.) They certainly did a heck of a job keeping everything nice and cool for us to eat, but under the circumstances, if anyone had shown up and sold hot chocolate, they would have done a land-office business in the tent.

With the sexuality opponents railroaded out of the way, and even the budget passed without a whimper, you might be wondering what else everyone found to argue about. I find that is not a problem, not having enough things to argue about, as I remember the first Assembly I attended and they spent three hours arguing about prayer. This time it was racism, of all things. Silly me, I would have thought in these enlightened times, there could only be one position on racism, and wouldn't leave a lot of ground on the other side to argue with. In fact, you would think you would have to collect a vastly diverse group of people in order to have more than one position on racism, and this was about as far from being diverse as any group could get. It was not only 500 Lutherans, but 500 ELCA Lutherans, and 500 ELCA Lutherans from a small area in New York besides. But they managed to run rough-shod over the idea of agreeing about racism, although at long last, they grudgingly voted to oppose it. They also came out against hunger and poverty, so for people considering those as career choices, please don't count on their support. They stopped short of voting in favor of peace in the Middle East, because after all, they wouldn't want to get too radical here.

After a long day of arguments and name-calling, it's always a nice change of pace to attend the educational forums and special worship services they always have at the Assembly. The two forums I attended were interesting and informative, not to mention indoors, which was a big selling point. I can't say that I was looking forward to dinner outside in the tent, but they offered some very nice meal options like ziti and veal parmesan, kept piping hot in chafing dishes, and plenty of hot coffee, so it wasn't so bad after all. After dinner, we enjoyed a very nice festival Eucharist, featuring special music and Bible readings in some of the many languages spoken throughout the Synod. It was really interesting, and a good time was had by all. Of course, I threw my voice out with all of the hymns during the service, because I happened to be standing next to a very loud soprano, which for me is like waving a red flag in front of a bull, because naturally I had to drown her out.

It was at the contemporary worship service before the Saturday session that had one of those inadvertently amusing moments that I mentioned earlier. In the old version of The Lord's Prayer, it says, "Lead us not into temptation." Apparently, people must have decided somewhere along the line that temptation, and trespasses, were too complicated or arcane for modern folks, so this has been improved (NOT!) in the contemporary version to say instead, "Save us from the time of trial." Except on Saturday morning at the Assembly, when what they printed in the worship booklet actually said, "Save us from the time of trail." Yippee-ki-yay, cowpokes! Let's quit off our trespassin' and temptations and hit that ol' dusty trail to salvation. Git along, little dogies, yee-hah!

I will say that this Assembly was unique, at least in my experience, in that it ended ahead of schedule on Saturday afternoon. Also, because it wasn't in a hotel ballroom, we weren't hostages to Comrade Mischka at the climate controls, so at least the indoor temperatures were more moderate than usual. By Saturday afternoon, the sun had come out and people headed for home with gusto. And we can all say that we survived yet another Assembly, which as we all know, is another one of the Biblical plagues from the Old Testament, right in between locusts and raining frogs.

Come Play

Hello World,

Well, here it is, Friday already, and you can believe me when I tell you that it certainly hasn't come a moment too soon and then some. Last week, I had taken Monday off from work and everyone knows what I think about those short weeks, and for those people who don't (and here, I'm including the KGB agents who may be monitoring my email) I'd be happy to explain it to you, except for the FCC regulations against that sort of language on the public airwaves. So I leave that to your imagination and you're welcome to it.

You can always tell when you've been working in the same field for too long, when you see everything through the prism of your industry, and not like real people see things. Here in the wonderful world of healthcare, one of the things we take for granted is the Pediatrics department, and all of its Pediatric sub-specialties, which have been with us for generations and no end in sight. It's commonly referred to as Peds, which is so routine now, that we don't even think of it as jargon any more. Like ICU, which we don’t expect anyone to mispronounce as “ICK-YOU” when they see it, we expect everyone who sees PEDS to realize that it's “PEEDS” for Pediatrics, whether they have a background in hospitals or not. So it pulled me up short yesterday when I got a call from one of our copier sales reps, who had a question about the equipment in what he referred to as our “Peds” clinic, rhyming it with “beds” instead of “beads,” and making it sound like we had a clinic for tiny nylon foot socks. For the record, we don't, although I would have to say that this is a market demographic that has been woefully under-represented in healthcare up to now.

Also at work, we found ourselves in the rather smelly predicament of having our carting company cut off our service, as they and the hospital were of two minds on the subject of some unpaid invoices. (For the record, the carting company was staunchly on the side of having the invoices paid, and the sooner the better, while the hospital was taking more of a “wait and see” approach to the payment issue.) I mentioned to our Storeroom manager that this would be a good time for his department to have a sale on cardboard boxes, which we receive and unpack by the truckload, since there was no more room in the compactor to put them. He said if it went on much longer, we'd have to implement the “bag-a-day” program, where all employees would carry out their office garbage and throw it away somewhere else. After that, it would be extended to include the patients as well, who would be required to take a bag of garbage with them when they leave, or give it to one of their visitors, so they could throw it out at home. This is what you call “thinking outside of the box.”

Last week being a short one at work, and holding true to form, it was already bordering on the disastrous, when we found out late in the game that friends of ours were planning to drive over 3 hours to visit us (which, multiplied by all of the people coming, made it actually more than 12 man/hours) on Sunday, no less. Apparently, they believed that the scheme they had cooked up among themselves had such powerful psychic vibes that we should have become aware of their plans telepathically. For anyone else who wants to believe that, I may as well say right here and now that if I did have any psychic ability, I certainly wouldn't be wasting my time working here at a squatty little community hospital, I'd be making my fortune on Wall Street, or at the racetrack, or in Las Vegas. So I think we can safely squelch those rumors right now.

As much as we enjoy seeing our far-flung friends, after the way things were going, the prospect of company on Sunday decidedly lacked a certain wonderfulness. But we're nothing if not game, so there I was on Sunday, running home from church with my coat-tails flying behind me to get ready. I couldn't get out of going to church, because I was scheduled to usher and count the offering, which I certainly would have re-scheduled, if only my psychic powers hadn't let me down until it was way too late. So I came flying home to change, with the expectation that we would meet our friends at a nearby diner for lunch, except of course, that they not only got lost, but got here too early besides, and turned up in our driveway instead while I was still in between outfits. (There's my psychic powers letting me down again!) We found out that Sunday afternoon is apparently no time to go to the diner (I told you I'm not psychic) but we finally landed at one with a free table for six. Everything seemed much better after lunch, and after that, it was a short jaunt to Playland amusement park in scenic Rye, where our friends hadn't been in years and longed to see again. The park is historic and beautiful, much the same as everyone's fond memories, although many of the rides have been changed over the years. But there are still many old favorites, like the Ferris Wheel, the Derby Racers, the enchanting Carousel, the Whip, the Old Mill and of course, the world famous Dragon Coaster. We had fun meandering around and taking in the sights, going on some rides and even indulging in the nostalgic taste of cotton candy. It was a real stroll down Memory Lane, and we really got a kick out of it.

Of course, not everything at Playland is old and shopworn, not by any means. We were surprised to discover that they use bar-coded Fun Cards and wrist wraps for the rides now, with scanners and turnstiles to get on. This was a whole new thing for us, and for the technologically-challenged among us, it turned out to be a sort of hit-or-miss proposition all day. They also have card readers scattered throughout the park where you can see how many “points” are left on your Fun Card, and machines where you can “re-charge” them by adding more money for points right onto them. It's a very handy system and we were impressed with it. Another sign of the times was outside of the Bumper Cars, one of their oldest rides, where there were posted large warning notices that in addition to restrictions due to health concerns, people were also prohibited from riding the Bumper Cars if they had mental health problems or psychological disorders. I remember when the only thing they cared about was how tall you were, not how sane you were. How times have changed, and you know I always say, not necessarily for the better.

All too soon, it was time to take our leave and be on our way. We stopped off at a local Italian eatery for dinner, where our friends filled up on pizza and garlic knots for the long ride home. Then we bid them a fond farewell and sent them on their way, while we returned home tired but happy. It was certainly a long week, and this unexpected excursion only made it longer, but we were glad to see our friends again and enjoy a day of fun and memories out in the sun and fresh air. And for the captious and petty-minded people out there, I will say that I certainly did NOT tempt fate by riding the Bumper Cars, when everybody already knows about my mental health problems.

As the weather in our little slice of Heaven continues to improve, and become more pleasant and balmy each day, we see those unmistakable harbingers of better times ahead. The stores are full of beach paraphernalia, the Farmers Market has returned to downtown on Fridays, and the sounds of landscapers (or, as my sister refers to them, “the SWAT team”) fill the air. Everyone seems to be out of doors and loving every minute of it, including our friends in the wonderful world of retail commerce. Bill had to send me a picture of a sign that was posted outside of a local furniture store, that advised people of their Sidewalk Sale, which was happening, conveniently, inside the store. Hmmm. That does seem, to the untrained observer, to take the concept of the Sidewalk Sale and turn it rather on its head. Of course, they might actually have a sidewalk indoors, but I would have to be psychic to know that, and I'm sure by now we all realize that I'm not.

A Run For The Money

Hello World,


Just when we thought it was safe to go outside, along comes another Friday the 13th. Although I suppose we shouldn't complain, because not only is this the first one we've had so far in 2005, but it's actually the only one we're going to have in the entire year. So if you're planning to get out there and break mirrors, walk on cracks and cross in front of black cats or under ladders, you'd better hurry off and do it now, while you've still got the chance. They say that time and tide and bad luck wait for no man, or something like that anyway.
Our spring-like weather continues apace around here, and while the days have been nice enough, it's certainly not what anyone would consider too hot by any means. I was prepared to shoulder the responsibility for the unseasonably cool temperatures, because I lost my head and not only took the flannel sheets off the bed, but the electric blanket as well. You can be sure that I won't be making that mistake in April again, because I've been freezing ever since. However, I have recently heard from someone who certainly should have known better (in fact, it was my sister Linda, who has brains as well as good looks) and nonetheless spent the weekend packing away winter clothes and taking out summer clothes. I don't know about where you are, but in this area, I'd say we should be prepared for another Ice Age to unceremoniously descend upon us.
Last week, we were treated to the unusual spectacle of a long-shot winning the Kentucky Derby, in fact, they said it was the longest odds of any winner since 1913. It must have been a surprise to a lot of people, because the Superfecta for the race was something like $1.7 million. Of course, it was no surprise to Bill, who picked Giacomo to win from the moment they introduced the horses at the beginning of the race. Even though he had never heard of the horse before, and knew nothing about his bloodlines or racing history, he said it was obvious as soon as he saw him in comparison to the other horses in the field being led onto the track. He did the same thing with War Emblem, and I admit that I don't know much, but I always know better than to bet against Bill. The big news around here, naturally, was that Yankees owner George Steinbrenner's horse, the favored Bellamy Road, finished badly out of the running, besides his baseball team stinking up the basement of the American League East. I think the Yankees started to win after that, because George told them if they didn't play better, he would make them run in the Preakness instead of Bellamy Road.
Another big day last week was Mother's Day on Sunday, and you know I always say that any day with presents is a good day, and this was no exception. I'm always happy to get music CDs and even more hand-made earrings, and an even bigger surprise was that book of bizarre newspaper stories that I had recommended earlier. This was a surprise not only because I had forgotten all about it somehow, after my glowing review of fulsome praise, but also because there turned out to be a sequel to it, and Bill got them both for me to enjoy twice as much. I'm really looking forward to that. I also got a gift certificate to a local nursery so I can get plants, gardening tools and landscape elements to my heart's content. Let me at those azaleas!
After that, we went to Mom's and had a nice quiet time indoors, as the weather was somewhat changeable during the day. Once again, we had food and presents, which is a combination that I find it hard to improve upon. Mom was happy to get a variety of summer flowers for the garden, like petunias, pansies, Asiatic lilies, begonias and freesias, as well as her favorite Mallomars. She'll be able to enjoy seeing the flowers growing outside from her windows all summer long. The Mets managed to make the hometown fans happy by losing to the Brewers in Milwaukee, so all of the moms at Miller Field had a good day. Although we found ourselves on the road later than we intended to, both coming and going, we didn't run into as much traffic as we feared. We arrived home without incident, and even though the rest of the week was just short of disastrous, it was still a nice Mother's Day.
I'm always bemused when people share their gardening stories with me, and say things like, " ... and it wasn't until I stood up, that I noticed I had been kneeling right in a patch of poison ivy!" Here, they titter sheepishly and shake their heads at the thought of this tiny and adorable poison ivy, that they would just love to pinch its little cheeks and tickle under the chin, it's just so gosh-darned cute. This is what I call "poison ivy for sissies" and everyone knows that I have no truck with it. At our house, the poison ivy comes in only one variety, and there's certainly nothing cute about it. In fact, our rampant mutant alien poison ivy should probably be studied by scientists, except that they don't dare get near it. We find it not only slithering along on the ground hiding beneath our Thorndale ivy, and also climbing up the sides of trees and fences, but also standing straight up in clumps, right in the middle of the lawn, like some new genetically-altered poison ivy bush. The one good thing about it is that there's no way for it to sneak up on anyone, and I never have to worry about accidentally kneeling in a patch of it, because it would be impossible to miss. Of course, we still post signs for unwary visitors and errant delivery people, mostly because their screams tend to keep us awake at night.
Earlier in the week, I happened to be flipping through a fashion catalogue featuring swimsuits for women in a variety of colors and styles. On one page, they were offering an attractive tankini, that came with an accessory they described as a "cover-up skirt." I'll have you know that this item of clothing reached from the model's waist to her crotch, and no further, making me wonder what in the world this "cover-up" was supposed to be covering up, and failing badly at it, I don't mind saying. In my day (of course, this was back when dinosaurs roamed the primordial forests of the unformed land masses) we would consider something of that width to be a belt, and not expect anyone to use it in the manner of a cover-up of any sort. I'd be embarrassed to tell you that they were charging $30 for this thing, and that was on sale!
Speaking of sales, Bill just loves this TV commercial where one of our leading automotive retailers wants us to stop by any of our handy local showrooms so that we don't miss out on what they described as their "once-a-year spring sales event." Well, I hope so! I mean, unless these people are making cars in some bizarro universe where spring occurs more than once a year, it pretty much goes without saying that their spring sales event will only happen once in 2005, or any other year, for that matter. Of course, we mustn't forget that it's a whole new paradigm out there, and one never knows what may be next to come around the pike and slap us in the face. In fact, if the Yankees don't hurry along and start living up to their salaries, I wouldn't be at all surprised to see them running in the Preakness pretty soon. Personally, my money's on Derek Jeter.

Blood Is Thicker Than Water

Hello World,


Feliz Cinco de Mayo! That was yesterday, of course, when we join in with our Mexican brothers and sisters celebrating the fabled Battle of the Puebla, where they tossed off the yoke of French rule, and sent Napoleon's army packing with their coat-tails flying behind them. Although around here, it's recognized as muy importante, in other areas not quite so culturally diverse, Cinco de Mayo is not considered a very big deal. In fact, if you wish far-flung colleagues and vendors a happy Cinco de Mayo on the phone, first you have to explain what it is, and then they snap, "I'm not Mexican" like it's some sort of insult. Well, that doesn't cut any tequila-flavored ice with me, amigo, and just like St. Patrick's Day, I say we're all Mexican on Cinco de Mayo.
For some reason, they picked that day at work to have one of their employee blood drives, perhaps on the theory that increased levels of alcohol in the bloodstream would act as a preservative, I don't know. Everyone knows that I'm nothing if not game, so I figured I would leave work early, make my contribution at the blood drive, and then run some errands before going home. I came up with this plan, because my plan for last year turned out to be a disaster that I didn't care to repeat. That was in October, and was a Halloween-themed event with black and orange balloons, and decorations of vampires and bats and so forth. At that time, I figured I would go in the morning and get it over with, so I could get on with the rest of my day, but I certainly figured wrong, and then some. When I got to the Auditorium, the place was mobbed, there was standing room only every step along the way, and it took forever to get through the whole process. With so many people, it was noisy and hot, and it seemed to me that everything that could go wrong, did. I went back to my office later, and felt very uncomfortable and out of sorts all day. It turned into a bad thing all the way around, and in fact, I distinctly remember saying to the Laboratory Administrator at a meeting later, "Never again!"
What I liked better about this plan, even if it turned out to be just as hot and crowded, was that at least I could go home afterward and relax, instead of going back to work. So I left my office around 2:00 PM and dropped off all of my belongings in my car, and made it safely back to the hospital, in spite of several attempts on my life by motorists in the neighborhood trying to drum up business for our Emergency Room by running me down in the street. (Someday, I'm going to make a fortune with my "Portable Cross Walk Kit" that pedestrians can carry with them for just such situations.) You can believe me when I say that I was more surprised than anybody when I walked into the Auditorium and found that I was the only person in there. I mean, there were tables and tables full of volunteers, doctors and phlebotomists, but there was not one single other soul in there to give blood, except me. It was the wildest thing, especially compared to the madhouse in October. So, to say that I got a great deal of personalized attention at each step would be putting it mildly, not to mention how grateful they were to see me. Without the crowds, the room was quiet and cool, with soft music playing, and it was really a very pleasant experience. After a snack of juice and cookies, I went to leave, but not before they gave me my complimentary full-featured canvas tote bag full of goodies, like pens and T-shirt, discount meal tickets and other promotional items. They also confided that not many people had shown up all day, which meant that I had a better than average chance of winning something in the raffle. Frankly, I felt like I already was a winner, compared to last time, so I was glad that I went back and gave it another chance.
Speaking of people who need another chance, I couldn't help but notice this story in the Police Blotter section of our local newspaper about some individuals who had been arrested when they were discovered pushing a stolen car. I'll have you know that you have to get up pretty early in the morning to put anything over on our crack Police Department around here, so don't bother pushing any stolen cars through this happening burg. Now this is what I say: if you intend to embark on a life of crime, you really need to come up with a better plan than that, and I'm really not kidding about this. Call me a hide-bound traditionalist, but if your best idea for stealing cars is pushing them away, then I think you really need to go back to the drawing-board and start all over again at the beginning. Or maybe that was just the tequila talking.
Earlier in the week, our Word-A-Day calendar (feel free to visit their web site at www.pageaday.com) offered this curious historical tidbit as part of the etymology for our word on that day --
============================
George Bernard Shaw once described a Shakespeare play
as "stagy trash." Another time, Shaw said he'd like to dig
Shakespeare from the grave and throw stones at him.....
Oddly enough, Shaw didn't despise Shakespeare or his work
(on the contrary, he was, by his own admission, an admirer) .....
============================
Well, you know what I say about that, with friends like that, who needs enemies! I can't even begin to imagine what he would have said about Shakespeare if he wasn't an admirer, the mind reels! I mean, that doesn't even fall into the category of "damning with faint praise," that's just out-and-out vitriol, and nothing faint or praise about it no how. I will admit to being hopelessly thin-skinned, but I would quail before the onslaught of that sort of invective from one of my so-called "admirers." I suppose there's a reason for that proverb that says, "Keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer." That's so, if they insult your writing, you can hit them over the head with your keyboard. Of course, this voids your keyboard's warranty, but hey, you have to be prepared to suffer for your art.
For Christmas, Santa brought my Mom an indoor-outdoor thermometer that speaks to you and tells you the temperature, so you don't have to look at it yourself, you can have this nice little recorded lady come right out and say it for you. It also has a feature that you can use it as an alarm in the morning, whereby it wakes you up with the little recorded lady telling you the temperature when the alarm goes off. Now, I personally think this is a terrible idea, and it's obvious to me that whoever came up with this cockamamie scheme didn't think it through completely. Picture this scenario: you're all wrapped up snug in your bed in the middle of the winter, and the alarm goes off and the little recorded lady pipes up, "The outdoor temperature is 10 degrees! The indoor temperature is 55 degrees!" Now, ask yourself this question, and be honest: are you really going to jump out of bed, in the freezing cold and pitch black, and embrace the new day? Or are you more likely to roll over moaning and pull the covers back over your head, at least until the little recorded lady has some better news for you? I think we all know the answer to that one. Along those same lines, I'm not so sure it was the world's best idea to have the automatic check-yourself-out registers at the supermarket announce the price of every item as you scan it. Here you are standing with your handy basket for shopping convenience, and you've picked up a bunch of things that are nothing out of the ordinary, which as part of your regular groceries would be unremarkable. But on an individual basis and checking yourself out, suddenly each item assumes epic proportions, as the jolly synthesized voice cheerfully informs you of the prices, and you find that you can't stop yourself from yelling, "What do you mean $3.19 for that little squatty box of crackers? How could that cheese be $4.99?? Don't tell me that ice cream was $5.79 for crying out loud!" I say no good can come of this, and it's a wonder to me that they don't have more riots at these self-serve registers, or at least broken speakers where the synthesized voices used to be.
Well, this certainly has been an eventful week, full of celebrations for May Day, Greek Orthodox Easter, Cinco de Mayo, and of course, this coming Sunday is Mother's Day already. (YIPES!) Everybody knows that our local newspaper is nothing if not helpful, so they had gathered together a collection of sure-fire recipes to serve as a treat to Moms everywhere on their special day. These delicacies included "Lettuce Salad with Fresh Herbs and Goat Cheese Roustade," "Creamy Risotto with Poached Asparagus" and "Sliced Fennel with Oven-Roasted Garlic Vinaigrette," which Bill volunteered to make for me on Mother's Day, but I said he would have to catch me first. The best part of the whole thing for me is having Monday off from work (HOORAY!!!) although you know I'm not looking forward to that short week when I get back to work next week. But I suppose we'll just have to cross that bridge when we get to it, unless the people trying to steal it have already pushed it upriver.