TV or not TV

Hello World,

Happy October! I know people would think I was just making it up if I said that we had been enjoying some glorious fall weather in these here parts, but it's the honest truth, and that's no applesauce. In fact, this morning, we very nearly had frost on the pumpkins, which would technically be an exaggeration on several points, but the heat did come on in the house so that by the time I went to work, all the radiators were covered with cats, and they were just as happy as clams. Well, they would have been, if clams were happy being warm and toasty, I suppose.

There's no getting around the fact that the new month is upon us, only more proof, if any was needed, that the year is charging headlong to the finish, with reckless abandon and not sparing the horses. I recently heard from a cyber-friend who was less than pleased about the way things are playing out --

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I don't know where you find the time, but I have my own theory. For most of us who never seem to have enough time in the day to think straight, I believe that time, at least according to Einstein, is not only relative, but it's usually your relatives who have plenty of it, and you never seem to have enough. Thats how black holes also work - by robbing your time & distributing it to some worthless relative, who probably has a government job, and already has too much time on his hands. Kind of like Cosmic Socialism. Karl Marx has the last laugh after all. Of course the Russians have cornered the market now, and they are doling it out piecemeal to the third world, where all the relatives have plenty of time to protest & gather in million man demonstrations.
Please send me the URL of the Russian website where you get your time, Thanks!
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You know the scary part is when things like that start to make perfect sense to me!

In other news, we were at Mom's last Saturday to celebrate her 83rd birthday, and I can say without fear of contradiction, that a fine time was had by all. We brought Mom to Friendly's for lunch, and they all made a big fuss over her, and not because she was wearing her sparkly Birthday Girl tiara, since we inadvertently left that at home. Then we all went back to enjoy presents and Italian pastries, which were wonderful and/or delicious, not to mention having many fine therapeutic qualities as well. Mom got some beautiful new pajamas by Oscar de la Renta, which we pointed out, was probably a whole lot better than Oscar de la Hoya, the fighter. She also got some music CDs, DVDs and assorted chocolates, which she announced, she was not obligated to share, and we had to agree with her on that one, as it was her birthday. You know I always say that it's hard to improve upon a day that has eating out as well as presents, so I would consider this a red-letter day all around.

Not everything is good news, unfortunately, because in quick succession, we have bid our sad farewells to a pair of TV icons, Bob Denver of "Gilligan's Island" and Don Adams from "Get Smart." I admit that I don't know what's been going on around here lately, but I can tell you this, if I was Bob Newhart, I'd be looking over my shoulder, and then some.

So here we are, officially in the season of autumn and hoping for better weather ahead, and if nothing else, at least a respite from the unrelenting parade of hurricanes that have been wreaking havoc on an unsuspecting public since the first ones in June. In fact, there were so many hurricanes this summer that I was starting to wonder what they would do if we got all the way up to Z for Zelda, and then another one came along, what would they call it? Would they start all over again at A? Call it Zelda II, the Sequel? Invent a whole new letter to follow Z so we could have that extra mythical 27th hurricane? Actually, they're not fooling me anymore with these hurricane names, like they used to. Back in the day, when they began naming hurricanes, there were only girl names like Agnes, Camille or Belle. Then lately they started giving them boy and girl names, alternating each letter, so you would have Alice, Bob, Carol, Dave, etc. And back when weather was normal, and you only had 8 or 10 hurricanes in a season of any note, you only got up to Hugo or Jacqueline before you were finished with them. Now, suddenly we were getting up into the Rs and Ss in the beginning of September, and no end in sight. But then I looked at this more closely, and realized that something was rotten in the state of Denmark, and I didn't like the smell of it. If they alternate boy and girl names, then what happened in between Ophelia and Rita? If Peter was the boy, does that make Quinton a hermaphrodite? Or are they trying to convince me that either Ophelia or Rita was really a boy? Or do they just leave out poor Q altogether, and if so, what other unsung letters are they also leaving out? I see now, all too clearly, that the hurricane naming people have been playing fast and loose with things, and the rest of us none the wiser.

While we're on the topic of wise people, Bill loves this story from the AOL Welcome Screen --

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Don't Be a Slave to Technology In more than 80 clinical trials, Dr. Glenn Wilson, a psychiatrist at King’s College London University, found that workers distracted by phone calls, e-mails and text messages suffer a greater loss of IQ than if they’d smoked marijuana. The IQ of those juggling messages and work fell by an average of 10 points -- equivalent to missing a whole night’s sleep and more than double the four-point fall seen after smoking pot. The drop in IQ was even more significant in men.
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Well, I'll be the first to admit that I'm easily amused, but I thought that was the most hysterical thing about technology making people stupid. I said to Bill, if that's not a rousing endorsement to have your workers smoke pot, then I don't know what is. "Try new Staff-Dope! It makes your employees less stupid than using email!" I tell you, you just can't make this stuff up.

Here's something else that you couldn't make up. I recently received a new version of a credit card that I already had (it's one of those cool new "see-through" models) and needed to call their 800# to activate it, so they would know that I was the right person who received the new card. The nice young lady that I spoke to was happy to provide me with all sorts of information about rebates, low-interest rates and other reward programs that I was eligible for, and she was keen to impress upon me the many advantages of using my card to buy gas with. She explained that the rebate was a certain percentage up to $1,500 gas purchases in a year, a different percentage from there to $3,000 a year, yet another percentage up to $25,000 per year and so on. I had to laugh and tell her I thought that was all very nice, but I hoped to God that I would never actually spend $25,000 on gas in a year! Of course, the way things are going with these hurricanes, you never can tell. As a matter of fact, if hurricanes were a TV show, you can believe that I would have long since canceled their sorry backsides and given away their time slot to someone a whole lot more deserving. Quick, someone call Bob Newhart before it's too late!

Don't Be Alarmed

Hello World,

Everyone knows that I hate to be an alarmist, but I feel I would be remiss if I didn't point out that tomorrow is actually the last Saturday in September, believe that or don't. The following Saturday will be the first of October, or as the retailers like to put it, only 85 more shopping days until Christmas. (There I go, being an alarmist again!) In fact, yesterday was the first day of fall, although people in the local area might be forgiven for a lack of enthusiasm for this seasonal milestone, as it was about 85 degrees and 90 percent humidity at the time. It was so hot during the week that one day I was standing in the kitchen and out of a clear blue sky, there was a resounding peal of thunder that rattled the dishes and set off car alarms down the block. One of our semi-invisible cats, Zanzibar, was lounging in the kitchen window at the time, and he gave me such a look before he bolted into the other room without even touching the floor. I called after him and said that my powers to create thunder had never manifested themselves up to this point, so I didn't think he could blame me for this particularly rambunctious outburst.

Speaking of weather, our newspaper ran a story that said the weather had been so dry over the summer around here that it was a positive boon to spiders, which were appearing everywhere in record numbers. They didn't explain why dry weather would be more beneficial to spiders than otherwise, so we're left with wondering if perhaps moist conditions make their little allergies act up, or even worse, their arthritis. Anyway, I figure it must be true, because I've noticed that we certainly have a bumper crop of very large spiders around the old homestead, more than the handful that we usually find hanging around in various places. In fact, the one we have on the side of our front porch is so big that if we could just get a mower attachment for it, we'd have a handy ride-on tractor to cut the grass with.

An article about cat shows in USA Magazine by Steve Dale began with this arresting paragraph:

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There's little doubt the most beautiful
cats in the world are your own. Just ask
them -- they'll agree. So, it's the next most
beautiful cats who will be named the Best in
Show at the third annual CFA-Iams Cat
Championship in New York . . . . .
=====================

I was reminded of that earlier in the week, when I was accosted by a co-worker in the lobby who wanted to show me pictures of her three cats, Angel, Max and Sam. You know it must be real love, because people invariably show you the most off-kilter, blurry snapshots of their precious pooches and perfect pussies, and you know you can't say, "What a horrible, mangy-looking creature that is!" even if that's what you're thinking. So I looked at her fuzzy and off-center photos and said what pretty cats they were (NOT!) and then asked, "Angel is a girl?" more to be polite rather than any curiosity on my part. "Oh, they're all girls," she answered promptly. Here's where that same rule that you can't say their pets are ugly, also says you can't tell them their pet names are stupid, so of course, I didn't. After all, we've had boy cats named Mimi and Tootsie, and girl cats named Tigger and Beaudelaire, so I guess it's every Max for himself, or herself as the case may be, and Devil take the hind-most.

While we're on the subject of cat names, we recently carted off one of the strays in our yard to the animal hospital for about $400 worth of health care services, and I can tell you that he didn't think much of the idea, no how. We had been calling him Jingle Belle, because he only had half a tail ("bells on bob-tails ring, making spirits bright ... ") and because he was wearing gray stripes like the army in the ante-bellum South. We've never had much luck with the clinic staff getting our cats' names right in the computer, and we routinely come home with paperwork for cats they call things like Fittlesticks, Muffing, Smudg, Littel Spot, Sparklar, Gingers Nap and Butterscoth, instead of their real names. I'd hate to tell you what they did to poor Caerlaverock Rose, but it wasn't pretty. Even when they spell the cat's name right, like Taffeta, they pronounce it wrong, as ta-FETT-a, as if people haven't been making clothes out of taffeta for hundreds of years already. So I never bothered to explain to them about this new arrival, that his name was two separate words, and not spelled the same as a regular bell. You can imagine my surprise when I picked him up later and found his paperwork made out as Jingle Belle, which they somehow came up with entirely on their own.

Alert readers may be wondering what's new in the wonderful world of education, and I am happy to give you an update. I received a notice from the SEED Learning Center (feel free to visit their web site at www.seedlearningcenter.com) announcing the schedule of classes at their new office in Hartsdale. I admit that I was a bit taken aback to discover that they offer 3-hour classes every day in Math and English for 1st and 2nd graders. Of course, I hate to be an alarmist, but here I'm thinking, what the heck kind of math do you need to know in 1st grade, of all things??? Can your first grader really fall so far behind in math in regular classes, that you would find it necessary to send them off to a supplemental learning center for tutoring? I realize that a lot has changed in education since the dinosaurs and I were learning our ABC's, but I think this is going just a little bit too far.

Meanwhile at work, I discovered someone who not only did not go too far, but in fact, stopped way ahead of time, and that's putting it mildly. I had occasion to call our friends at Cardinal Health Care to leave a message for one of the sales reps. In fact, you can try this yourself at home and call Cardinal at (800) 929-4637, where the nice recorded lady thanks you for calling them and lets you know that you can also visit their web site (and this is where Dave Barry always says, " ... and I'm not making this up!") which she actually tells you, very clearly, is "www dot com." I don't think so!

Earlier in the month, my cousin's daughter Rebecca was called to the Torah in a ceremony that the rest of the world commonly refers to as a bat mitzvah, so that meant that everyone else in the family had to pile in their cars early in the morning, in order to arrive at the sleepy town of Walden at the unholy hour of 9:00 AM of all things. Becky looked lovely, the ceremony was wonderful, and everything went off without a hitch. Even my Mom, who will be 83 tomorrow, made the long trek to join in the happy occasion, and by all accounts, the event was a rousing success. Becky plans to be a lawyer, which would certainly be a first in the family, and would no doubt come in very handy for those of us intending to embark on a life of crime.

I'm sure that everyone realizes that if Labor Day has come and gone, we must have already moved into that season of the year when those of us who have plans for Halloween have been stymied in our efforts to obtain the necessary costume parts. It's really true that you can buy any costume you want, and all the costume web sites will tell you that they have every costume in the world. But getting the accessories you need to complete the effect, ah ... there's the rub. Over the years, I have compiled an extremely lengthy list of costume parts that turned my costume shopping into a weary long-distance quest worthy of the Holy Grail. It appears this year will be no different, which I suppose is reassuring in its own perverse way. In fact, at this point, if I could get my costume and all the accessories all in one shot, I'd find it extremely alarming, and we all know that if nothing else, I'm not an alarmist.

Get Out and Vote

Hello World,

Greetings from the Ides of September, and then some! Once we get to this point, the juggernaut is really in full swing, as it were, and we've hit the skids on that slippery slope that will speed us along, kicking and screaming, to the end of the year before we know it. Thanks to some friends of ours, we were able to indulge in a lovely end-of-season barbecue over the Labor Day weekend, where we enjoyed ourselves in the great outdoors and had some simply glorious weather besides. It was a special treat, and we were happy to sneak that in before the summer was well and truly over, so we would have no regrets. I was hoping the long weekend would be more relaxing than it turned out, and it seemed like I had things to do every day, and had no chance to rest. One unfortunate result of all of this activity was that I completely forgot to put the flags out on Labor Day, as I usually do, which was a shame, because the weather would have been perfect for it. It seems to me that the Flag Brigade around here does a fair job, all things considered, but the Flag Reminding Department apparently has a lot of room for improvement.

Speaking of room for improvement, lest anyone get the impression that the only illiterate people we have at the hospital are working in our computer department, I can assure you that is not the case. It's the people in Accounting that add new vendors to the computer system, and I noticed that one of our new vendors is something they call the Mercy Surgical Dessing Group. Taking a shot in the dark, I might assume they meant "dressing" instead of "dessing," although since "dessing" is not technically a word, it might be standing in for any number of other possibilities, such as "decking," "messing," "dancing" or "stressing." I suppose we'll never know at this rate. Another order that crossed my desk recently was from our friends at Synthes, proud providers of orthopedic implants for hip and knee replacement surgery, and usually what we get from them is stuff like femoral heads, tibial stems and swivel joints. You can't imagine how surprised I was to see this new order, which included open clamps, clover leaf plates, and my personal favorite, spring loaded nuts. I have no idea what that means, but I have to tell you, it certainly gave me pause.

Tuesday around here was a rather hectic day, starting out early in the morning and not letting up all day. But everyone knows that I'm nothing if not civic-minded, so I was bound and determined to exercise my franchise, and get out there and vote in the primary, no matter what. I love to vote, and do it regularly, for everything from President right on down to dog catcher, if they're having an election for something, they can count on me to show up and cast my ballot. Now, to be perfectly frank, I would have had no idea that the primary was on Tuesday, in spite of all the various candidates being on TV, because those campaign ads tend to all just blur together in my mind. However, the nice folks at the Board of Elections were kind enough to send out postcards to all of us registered voters to remind us of the dates for the primary and general elections, and where to vote in our local area. So I carried the card with me on Tuesday to remind me to stop after work at the elementary school and vote, which I did. Well, that is, I stopped at the school, but they wouldn't let me vote, for the perfectly valid reason that there apparently was no primary election in New Rochelle, so there was nothing to vote for. The lady janitor who steered me out of the gymnasium, where I had gone in search of voting booths, said that a lot of people had shown up there trying to vote, not just me. I said I couldn't understand why they sent out a postcard, if I wasn't supposed to go vote. Live and learn.

At work, I had a visit from the hospital's computer vendor, dropping off a loaner laptop for one of our administrators, whose own laptop was in the shop for repairs, and said if he had any trouble with it, he could call the office, even on Saturday, when someone would be there until 3:00 PM. "At least I THINK someone is there until 3:00," he added sheepishly, even though, as the owner, you would expect him to know when the staff was there or not. I laughed and said he should get a web cam for the office, so he could see if the people were at work when they were supposed to be. "Oh, we have a web cam," he replied quickly, and gave me the address to check it out. So if you have time on your hands during the day, and want to see the hard-working and helpful staff at A-Plus Computer Solutions in Danbury, Connecticut, feel free to check out their web cam at http://69.0.103.86:81 and see for yourself. (For AOL users, you need to minimize AOL and use the address bar in Internet Explorer instead.) When the screen comes up asking for your user name and password, you can type in "aplushome" (without the quotation marks) in both boxes and you're on your way. The place is all full of friendly and knowledgeable staff, so be sure to smile and wave at them as they go by. You can also visit their web site at www.aplusontheweb.com where you will find everything you need in the way of computer systems, peripherals, software, supplies and service, all at reasonable prices and with a smile besides. Sure, anyone can buy a computer from Gateway or Dell, but can you watch the UPS man making deliveries and flirting with the receptionist on their web cam??? I think not!

In other technology-related news, we finally took the plunge and are the last people in civilization to get DSL service for our computers at home. We've been resisting it since, well, forever, as being an overly expensive extravagance that we could do without. We took advantage of their first year introductory offer, which was not such a bad deal after all, once we talked ourselves into it. Bill's favorite part was that he kept getting messages from Verizon saying that although our phone line was pre-qualified for DSL, further investigation might show that we could not get DSL on our phone anyway. Then two days later, he would get another message verifying that we had been approved for DSL, and although our phone line was pre-qualified, further investigation, etc., etc. This went on for two weeks, with the same gibberish every time, verifying that we had been approved, our line was pre-qualified, however, we still might not get it, and on and on. They sent email after email, and left messages on our answering machine, saying the same thing over and over again, and we finally despaired of us ever getting anywhere with this. And then a miraculous thing happened. We came home from work last Friday, and found none other than James Earl Jones himself on our answering machine, saying, "Luke, I am your father!" No, that can't be right. What he actually said was, "Welcome to Verizon DSL service!" I thought that was so cool, that they actually had a recorded message from him to welcome new users. And sure enough, the DSL service was up and running, and we were running right along with it. (It reminds me of that old joke where the guy says his new sports car is so fast -- here's where you say, "HOW FAST IS IT?" -- that it was 12 miles to the station, but he was going so fast, he got there in eight. Oh well, I guess you had to be there.) So here we are, finally catching up with the rest of the world in the 21st century, and with Darth Vader on board, to boot.

Bill and I went to the diner after work, and spotted a skunk walking along the sidewalk in broad daylight, so you know no good can come of that. I always worry when the local wildlife seems to be going batty. Speaking of which, this morning I saw a fly banging against the window screen in the den, and so I put down everything I was carrying, so I could open the window and let him out, figuring I could get my good deed for the day out of the way bright and early. Imagine my surprise, not to mention chagrin, when I noticed that he was banging against the screen from the OUTSIDE, and not the inside, as if he had convinced himself that he was trapped in our back yard, and his only means of escape was through this window screen into our den. (NOT!!!) I know better than to try and use logic with insects, so I tapped on the screen with a pencil, trying to get him to fly away. You could tell that he wasn't sold on that idea, but he flew away, I think, more to humor me than anything else. I have to say that the thought of being patronized by bugs is an unsettling one to me, especially when they're choosing to ignore my good sound advice in favor of their own deluded flights of fancy. And as long as I'm giving out advice, I can think of no greater wisdom that I would like to impart, than to remind everyone to please watch out for those spring loaded nuts, because this is no time to tempt fate. Especially if James Earl Jones is your father.

Too Plastic For Me

Hello World,

Happy September! Who would have believed that we would be standing here right now and it's practically the middle of September already. Boy, the Romans really weren't kidding when they said, "Tempus Fugit" which means, "Don't look back, they might be gaining on you!" Actually, I think it was Satchel Paige who said that, but whoever it was, they weren't just whistling Dixie and that's no jive. Next thing you know, we'll look up and it will be Advent already, and then where will we be? The mind reels.

Of course, as we all know, things can always be worse. I was logging in purchase orders at work this week, and came across a repair/exchange of a shaver handpiece from our friends in the Operating Room, and owing to a little bit of over-enthusiasm on the part of whoever typed it, the whole transaction came in at the staggering sum of $243,807.00. That would be some repair, even by our standards! Another purchase order was for some rental equipment needed by our colleagues in the G.I. Suite, and the clerk (you remember Helga!) typed this note in the comments section: "Selector rental with bisbsables." Indeed. I'm afraid that doesn't even get me in the ballpark, as far as what that might be, and I have a sneaking suspicion that what she really meant was "disposables," although the two of them are about as far apart as you can get and still be in the same alphabet. Not to be outdone, we received an invoice from a company that provides specialty mattresses and beds for our wound-care patients, and found we were being charged rental for two "beriatric" beds. I realize that the field of Bariatrics might be unfamiliar to many people unconnected with health care, but on the other hand, this is the company that we rent these bariatric beds from, and they even spelled it wrong on their invoice! Alas, to say there are no standards any more would be a major understatement of epic proportions.

Speaking of work, we get the following story from Bill about a recent close encounter of the wildlife kind –

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The other morning I had a stupid insect myself but it was a moth. It was in the window, after I came inside, having just emptied the cat box/recycling bin. As I turned around to get a jar or something to catch him, he flew into the bin and settled down on the bottom of it. So I picked it up and walked to the door. I got into the vestibule and opened the outside door and just at that very second he decided to fly out of the box. He landed on my shoulder, so then it was time for me to put ME outside. As I walked through the door, he flew off and landed on the inside door behind me. So I opened the door to go inside and get something to catch him with and he flew into the door jamb. So I had to prop the door open with the box and get a knife to poke him out. By the time I got back to the door with the pencil from the shopping list (instead of a knife), he was rested again so he flew into my face, past a swatting Puffin -- who had gotten into the window to make a game out of this -- and then, turning hard left. into the butler's pantry. He disappeared somewhere along the ceiling in the library and I must admit I almost wished him ill at that point. Honestly! (as you would say.)================================

I said to Bill that it continues to amaze me that these idiot bugs haven't just died out of rampant stupidity millions of years ago. In fact, imagine the even stupider insects that DID die off from stupidity millions of years ago, if these are the ones that are still left!

In other news, as hard as this will be to believe, we actually went back to the movies last week and saw "Sky High" with Kurt Russell and we really enjoyed it. It's very cute, without being stupid, and the story is interesting, engaging and laugh-out-loud funny in spots. I expected I would like it, because when we saw the trailers for it, it seemed like it would be right up my alley, although I was concerned that it might be too silly even for me. But we were pleasantly surprised and liked everyone in it (how can you not like Lynda Carter!) and were glad we hurried up and saw it while it was still in the theaters. It won't be long now until it's out on DVD and I can highly recommend it.

Our trip to the movies would have been even more wonderful, if only the concession stand had come through with our meal choices while we were there. Instead of having popcorn as we usually do, we decided to take a chance on their selection of Gourmet Pretzels, and split them between us, so that we could each try the different flavors. Bill had one of their regular salted ones previously and thought it was not bad. The menu board didn't list the flavors that these gourmet treats are available in, but Bill pointed out that they had a display case of them farther along on the concession stand, and I could go see for myself. Sure enough, there were all of these gourmet-looking pretzels hanging up in neat rows in the case, and we could enjoy them in salted, extreme garlic and parmesan, or cinnamon. Armed with this information, we approached the cashier and told her what we wanted, only to be told that they had no pretzels. Bill pointed out with unassailable logic that they were in the display case farther down on the concession stand. "Those are plastic," she replied calmly. I will say that of everything she might have told us in that situation, this was certainly not one that we were expecting, and it really took the wind right out of our sails, gastronomically speaking. Bill ended up having popcorn after all, and I had the nachos, but it just wasn't the same. Although, I would have to believe that it was a whole lot better than plastic pretzels, no matter how gourmet they might consider themselves.

While we were at the movies, we saw trailers for new movies coming out, and I don't mind saying that I will never understand where they come up with the idea that we need to see even more remakes of King Kong and Oliver Twist. Another upcoming movie is a sort of 1970's throwback to roller disco, if you can believe that, and it looks fairly interesting, with the usual characters and plot elements you find in underdog stories like "The Mighty Ducks" or "The Bad News Bears" and that ilk. It seems full of nostalgic and peppy disco music, flashy costumes and plenty of pratfalls and sight gags. I was just thinking that they may have hit on a winning combination here, when the slide came up with the title of this retro masterpiece, which turned out to have the unlikely name of "Roll Bounce." ROLL BOUNCE???!!! What the blazes kind of a stupid name is Roll Bounce? That doesn't even make any sense, and heck, how much sense does it have to make for a roller disco movie in the first place. I said to Bill, "Why didn't they just call it, ‘Don't Go See This Movie' because that's what a film with that title would make me want to do, I'd avoid it at all costs. I'm surprised they're not calling the new Oliver Twist movie, "Twist Dodge" instead. Honestly, you just don't know what gets into these people. Between their terrible titles and plastic pretzels, it's becoming obvious that going to the movies is not for the faint-hearted or slow-witted, so watch your step out there. And remember not to look back, in case Satchel Paige (or the Romans) are gaining on you!

Fair is Fair

Hello World,

Happy Labor Day weekend! In the spirit of the holiday, I do hope that you have plans that include good food, good friends, good weather and also resting from your labors. After all, even God rested from his labors on the seventh day, although if He had only asked me, I would have been able to give Him a list of things that should have been included while He was busy doing everything else, instead of knocking off a day early, and let's just say that the power to levitate objects would just be the tip of the iceberg. In any event, the Labor Day weekend is upon us, and recognized as the unofficial end of the summer season, so it's a bittersweet observation at best. Not that this summer had a whole lot to recommend it, not just in this area, and that's putting it mildly. In fact, a change of seasons might do us all a world of good.

Speaking of the changing seasons, at work we got a catalogue from our friends at the Greenwoods 2005 Holiday Collection of greeting cards, and if you don't get catalogues of business greeting cards, you don't know what you're missing. Because they don't want to offend or exclude anyone, they tend to shy away from reds and greens, not to mention candy canes, Christmas trees and the jolly old elf himself. Most of the cards are gold or ivory, with shiny snowflakes, doves, stars or globes, and say things like "A World of Best Wishes" or "Happy Holidays." (Although I have to wonder about the cards that include not only Santa, but his reindeer, red and green packages, candy canes, Christmas trees, mistletoe, holly garland and lights, and then go ahead and wish me "Season's Greetings!" You've kind of limited that to only one "season" that I can think of, pal.) The ones I really hate, and that are so prevalent nowadays, are the navy blue ones, because they just strike me as so maudlin for holiday cards. Yuck. Anyway, I was flipping through this catalogue and came across a card, navy blue of course, with the arresting message: "The friendship of those we serve is the foundation of our progress." And I thought to myself, that doesn't even make any sense, even though all the words are in English, it simply has no meaning. It would make just as much sense if you said instead, "The progress of those we serve is the friendship of our foundation." It sounds to me like the horoscope computer from the newspaper has gotten into the greeting card business, and not for the better, I can tell you that.

While we're on the subject of better things, we had a fun time last weekend, visiting our friends from upstate and going back to the Dutchess County Fair in Rhinebeck, where we hadn't been for a while. Not much had changed, although it did seem a lot more crowded than we remembered it. It all began innocently enough, as these things so often do, when we left later than we wanted to on Saturday morning, and experimenting with new and untested directions, which we assumed would not only take more time, but get us hopelessly lost besides. Instead of Daffy Duck showing up and saying, "Shoot me now! Shoot me now!" we actually got where we were going, and early to boot. Naturally, our friends were therefore late, so getting there early turned into a mixed blessing. We had a wonderful lunch, as usual, at the delightfully atmospheric Eveready Diner in Hyde Park which we love. We were staying overnight at the nearby Super 8 Motel, so we decided to check in and leave our belongings before going to the fair. I suppose that not much changes at the fair over the years, although if I said that now, I would just be talking through my hat, because we really didn't see much of the fair while we were there. The weather was nice, if a little too hot, but it was so unbearably crowded that we just didn't make any headway in getting around the place. We did see some of the exhibition hall, where they have booths selling everything from jewelry to gutters and grandfather clocks to life insurance. We also strolled past rows of vendor tents outdoors, where we could buy tractors, speedboats, sheds, heating systems and hot tubs. No thank you very much! It didn't take long for us to have our fill of the fair, and half of us were lucky enough to sneak out the back of the parking field and beat it back to the motel, while the other half got stuck in the gridlock at the front, and took more than an hour just to get out of the fairgrounds.

After that, we headed for something called Pete's Famous Diner & Restaurant, also in Hyde Park, where we had never been before. I can't tell you what they're famous for, but the food was good, although I found it somewhat expensive for all that. As often happens when we go anywhere with our friends, we managed to clear the room out, and even though it was a Saturday night, pretty soon we were the only people in the place. Honestly, you'd think no one had ever seen six people doing impressions of White Fang from the old Soupy Sales Show before. Then we went back to the motel and had a little party in our room, complete with ice cream and brownies, not to mention crepe paper and streamers. We even had little party poppers, and I think it says something about the Super 8 in Hyde Park that you can shoot these things off all night that sound just like gunshots, and not one single soul comes to investigate. Apparently they have little caps in them, like cap pistols, and we were surprised that the smell and the smoke didn't set off the smoke detectors in the room. I must say that my idea about the usual clientele of this motel has changed considerably since our visit, and not for the better, I don't mind saying.

On Sunday morning, we scarfed up the continental breakfast that was provided in the lobby, which was more convenient than going out to eat first thing in the morning. Then we scooted up the road a piece and spent hours meandering through the wonderful Hyde Park Antiques, a gigantic old house filled with rooms upon rooms and display cases upon display cases of the most intriguing items. Unlike most antique stores, this building housed a wide collection of different dealers, each in a separate room or display case, so there was a huge variety in the types of items, like jewelry, furniture, silverware, dolls, books, paintings, toy trains and even coins. It was fascinating, upstairs and downstairs, and every time we thought we had seen it all, there was another hallway going off in another direction. We finally had to leave, more out of exhaustion than anything else, but we were glad that we went. Of course, they weren't so happy to see six people doing their impressions of White Fang, but anyone can tell you that retail sales is not the place for sissies.

Could it be possible that we went back to the Eveready Diner on Sunday for lunch? You bet! In fact, we had the same waiter as at brunch on Saturday, and he laughed and said that he had been there all night. We had another delicious meal, but all too soon, it was time to bid our friends farewell and speed them back on their way to the northern climes that they call home. Our trip home was blissfully uneventful, and even though our cats hadn't set eyes on us since early the day before, they greeted our return with nonchalance bordering on boredom, which helps to keep us humble if nothing else. It's true that we always have fun when we get together with our friends, but I would have to say that I found the fair disappointing, and I said to Bill that it's gotten like that place that Yogi Berra complained "It's so crowded that no one goes there any more." For our next get-together, we're thinking of just staying at a nicer motel with a pool, and cutting out the fair completely. After all, we can do our impressions of White Fang anywhere.