In The Pink
Hello World,
Happy May Day (a little bit late) and also a very feliz Cinco de Mayo (a little bit early) as this week shapes up to have some busy times for all the revelers out there. Next Sunday is Mother's Day already, so it seems that we have a little bit of something for everyone, and plenty to look forward to. Especially if your mother is a Mexican Communist, in which case, she would be in her glory, and these would be about the best two weeks of the year for her. For the rest of us, we'll just have to make do, without being the matriarch of our clan, routing the French invaders at Puebla, or saluting Mother Russia in Red Square. It certainly sounds like the time to break out the long-stem roses, tequila and borscht, da?
Although I spoke too soon, it was not by a lot, as I looked out the bedroom window yesterday, and was greeted with the sight of our neighbor's spectacular dogwoods putting on a show, as they do every year. There's a line of them running along our driveway, from the front to the back yard, and for as long as I've been here, they've been one of the special treats of spring, and each year more breathtaking. They're impossible to miss, and if I'm out in the yard, or if we have company, people can't help but exclaim: "I love your dogwoods!" This is what I say: "Thank you." You notice how I leave out that part about how they're actually the neighbor's dogwoods, not ours, and it's their care and dedication and hard work that keeps them looking so beautiful year in and year out, while I'm just basking in the compliments. Of course, taking credit for your neighbor's accomplishments is not exactly the moral high ground that we strive for, but after all, it's not like I don't have a green thumb of my own. You should just see my poison ivy.
Speaking of colors, Bill was having a problem with their large-format printer at work, where the other color cartridges would print, but not the yellow for some reason. This created some odd looking results, as you can imagine, including a page full of McDonald's coffees in special flavors, which all came out looking bright pink, instead of the more usual brown that you would typically expect in coffee. Bill thought that this sign would not be a big hit at McDonald's, where pink coffee might be considered an idea whose time has not yet come, and instead of McCafe would look more like McBarbie. But I said that they could probably turn it into a big seller in October, in honor of Breast Cancer Awareness Month, and it could start a whole new trend of pink foods. I mean, why should Hostess Sno-balls have all the fun?
Last week, I couldn't help but notice this message in my incoming email from the fiendish minions at networks@cardboardfish.com with the peculiar subject line of: "Get the gerat disconuts for networks on popluar softawre!" Now, it's true that the senders of junk email deliberately spell words wrong, to avoid the anti-spam programs that check for particular words, and block the ones they find. The mis-spellings didn't work in this case, because even AOL figured out that this message belonged in my Spam folder, which is where I found it later. But even if it wasn't in my Spam folder, I wonder that they would think I would want to buy my network software from a place offering "gerat disconuts." I realize there's no standards anymore, but that seems hopelessly optimistic, even for me. And while I don't know about being popluar, I have to say that those disconuts certainly sound good to me. Especially if they're pink.
I was just about to buy myself a pair of shoes that I had seen in a catalog, not that I need more shoes, heaven knows, but they were very attractive and on sale, which made them even more attractive in my estimation. Then I stopped and wondered if I didn't already have a pair of shoes that looked just like that, and rather than go upstairs and look, I started to write a list of the shoes that I had, with their distinguishing features, and see if something like this turned up. Now, anyone who knows me will tell you that I'm no follower of high fashion, and while I have a lot of clothes, they're all very inexpensive and extremely far from the cutting edge of the latest style. Even less so would I consider myself a slave to footwear, as I buy them in only black or white, and nothing but sensible dress shoes that I wear to work. But here I was, making this list, and it finally got so long (and that was only one color) that even I was embarrassed, and I don't mind saying, I'm not easily embarrassed. As a result of this little exercise, it became not at all difficult to talk myself out of yet another pair of shoes, which apparently would be like carrying coals to Newcastle, or perhaps carrying shoes to Imelda Marcos' closet would be a better metaphor under the circumstances. Fortunately, I'm a long way from getting to that point, but it's better to be cautious, or the next thing you know, I'd be buying shoes that were pink.
Alert readers may remember the trials and tribulations of the Patient Satisfaction Team skit, from its humble beginnings of table readings and script revisions, through the ill-fated dress rehearsal in the auditorium along with the aerobics class at full volume, to the acclaimed performance at the LDI luncheon, and finally the videotaping in February with the last-minute substitutes filling in most of the parts. After about two months of editing and post-production, everyone on the Patient Satisfaction Team was invited to what we referred to as a "video viewing party" to see the finished product. For the occasion, we were granted access to the lofty 9th floor Board Room, as well as the built-in multi-media equipment, which included a large high-resolution screen for our viewing pleasure. Personally, I couldn't help but think that the video would be so amateurish that seeing it on a big screen might be more of a drawback than an advantage, even for the most indulgent viewer. But all things considered, it must be said that it came out better than I would have expected, and was not such an embarrassment to the participants that we flung ourselves out the windows in horror. That was a good thing, because we would have missed all the treats that were in store for us. The team leaders thanked us all for our contributions to the team, and for our time and effort to improve patient satisfaction throughout the health system. They gave everyone a "goodie bag" that included a DVD of the skit, some healthy snacks, promotional items from the hospital, and my personal favorite, an "Oscar"
certificate for our part in the skit, which was beautifully printed with our name and the details of our accomplishment. It was very sweet and it made us feel that all of our hard work had not been in vain, even though many times, in fact most of the time, the skit seemed like a lost cause and beyond redeeming. But apparently, it turned out to be the poison ivy of skits, there was just no killing it, in spite of all obstacles, and now I have the DVD to prove it.
And finally, on the subject of teams, the Joy in Mudville has been few and far between lately, at least in our house, with the unwelcome prospect of getting worse before it gets better, which as prospects go, would certainly not be my first choice. Usually, smirking at the vaunted Yankees floundering under .500 would be a guilty pleasure we could indulge in at least temporarily, but with the Mets record at a hapless 14-12, there's certainly no bragging rights to be had in the cross-town baseball rivalry. Even worse are the Rangers, who handily dispatched the dreaded New Jersey Devils in the first round of the playoffs, only to run into the buzz-saw of Pittsburgh in the second round. That series now stands at 3 games to 1, with the Rangers on the short end of things, and with their backs against the wall, have no margin for error without being eliminated. Oh well, this is how it is in sports, sometimes you're the pigeon and sometimes you're the statue, and in spite of the odds-makers, the outcome is always in doubt. I suppose one good thing about the playoffs, champagne works just as well at celebrations for the winning team, as it does at drowning your sorrows for fans of the losing team. As for myself, you can make mine pink.
Happy May Day (a little bit late) and also a very feliz Cinco de Mayo (a little bit early) as this week shapes up to have some busy times for all the revelers out there. Next Sunday is Mother's Day already, so it seems that we have a little bit of something for everyone, and plenty to look forward to. Especially if your mother is a Mexican Communist, in which case, she would be in her glory, and these would be about the best two weeks of the year for her. For the rest of us, we'll just have to make do, without being the matriarch of our clan, routing the French invaders at Puebla, or saluting Mother Russia in Red Square. It certainly sounds like the time to break out the long-stem roses, tequila and borscht, da?
Although I spoke too soon, it was not by a lot, as I looked out the bedroom window yesterday, and was greeted with the sight of our neighbor's spectacular dogwoods putting on a show, as they do every year. There's a line of them running along our driveway, from the front to the back yard, and for as long as I've been here, they've been one of the special treats of spring, and each year more breathtaking. They're impossible to miss, and if I'm out in the yard, or if we have company, people can't help but exclaim: "I love your dogwoods!" This is what I say: "Thank you." You notice how I leave out that part about how they're actually the neighbor's dogwoods, not ours, and it's their care and dedication and hard work that keeps them looking so beautiful year in and year out, while I'm just basking in the compliments. Of course, taking credit for your neighbor's accomplishments is not exactly the moral high ground that we strive for, but after all, it's not like I don't have a green thumb of my own. You should just see my poison ivy.
Speaking of colors, Bill was having a problem with their large-format printer at work, where the other color cartridges would print, but not the yellow for some reason. This created some odd looking results, as you can imagine, including a page full of McDonald's coffees in special flavors, which all came out looking bright pink, instead of the more usual brown that you would typically expect in coffee. Bill thought that this sign would not be a big hit at McDonald's, where pink coffee might be considered an idea whose time has not yet come, and instead of McCafe would look more like McBarbie. But I said that they could probably turn it into a big seller in October, in honor of Breast Cancer Awareness Month, and it could start a whole new trend of pink foods. I mean, why should Hostess Sno-balls have all the fun?
Last week, I couldn't help but notice this message in my incoming email from the fiendish minions at networks@cardboardfish.com with the peculiar subject line of: "Get the gerat disconuts for networks on popluar softawre!" Now, it's true that the senders of junk email deliberately spell words wrong, to avoid the anti-spam programs that check for particular words, and block the ones they find. The mis-spellings didn't work in this case, because even AOL figured out that this message belonged in my Spam folder, which is where I found it later. But even if it wasn't in my Spam folder, I wonder that they would think I would want to buy my network software from a place offering "gerat disconuts." I realize there's no standards anymore, but that seems hopelessly optimistic, even for me. And while I don't know about being popluar, I have to say that those disconuts certainly sound good to me. Especially if they're pink.
I was just about to buy myself a pair of shoes that I had seen in a catalog, not that I need more shoes, heaven knows, but they were very attractive and on sale, which made them even more attractive in my estimation. Then I stopped and wondered if I didn't already have a pair of shoes that looked just like that, and rather than go upstairs and look, I started to write a list of the shoes that I had, with their distinguishing features, and see if something like this turned up. Now, anyone who knows me will tell you that I'm no follower of high fashion, and while I have a lot of clothes, they're all very inexpensive and extremely far from the cutting edge of the latest style. Even less so would I consider myself a slave to footwear, as I buy them in only black or white, and nothing but sensible dress shoes that I wear to work. But here I was, making this list, and it finally got so long (and that was only one color) that even I was embarrassed, and I don't mind saying, I'm not easily embarrassed. As a result of this little exercise, it became not at all difficult to talk myself out of yet another pair of shoes, which apparently would be like carrying coals to Newcastle, or perhaps carrying shoes to Imelda Marcos' closet would be a better metaphor under the circumstances. Fortunately, I'm a long way from getting to that point, but it's better to be cautious, or the next thing you know, I'd be buying shoes that were pink.
Alert readers may remember the trials and tribulations of the Patient Satisfaction Team skit, from its humble beginnings of table readings and script revisions, through the ill-fated dress rehearsal in the auditorium along with the aerobics class at full volume, to the acclaimed performance at the LDI luncheon, and finally the videotaping in February with the last-minute substitutes filling in most of the parts. After about two months of editing and post-production, everyone on the Patient Satisfaction Team was invited to what we referred to as a "video viewing party" to see the finished product. For the occasion, we were granted access to the lofty 9th floor Board Room, as well as the built-in multi-media equipment, which included a large high-resolution screen for our viewing pleasure. Personally, I couldn't help but think that the video would be so amateurish that seeing it on a big screen might be more of a drawback than an advantage, even for the most indulgent viewer. But all things considered, it must be said that it came out better than I would have expected, and was not such an embarrassment to the participants that we flung ourselves out the windows in horror. That was a good thing, because we would have missed all the treats that were in store for us. The team leaders thanked us all for our contributions to the team, and for our time and effort to improve patient satisfaction throughout the health system. They gave everyone a "goodie bag" that included a DVD of the skit, some healthy snacks, promotional items from the hospital, and my personal favorite, an "Oscar"
certificate for our part in the skit, which was beautifully printed with our name and the details of our accomplishment. It was very sweet and it made us feel that all of our hard work had not been in vain, even though many times, in fact most of the time, the skit seemed like a lost cause and beyond redeeming. But apparently, it turned out to be the poison ivy of skits, there was just no killing it, in spite of all obstacles, and now I have the DVD to prove it.
And finally, on the subject of teams, the Joy in Mudville has been few and far between lately, at least in our house, with the unwelcome prospect of getting worse before it gets better, which as prospects go, would certainly not be my first choice. Usually, smirking at the vaunted Yankees floundering under .500 would be a guilty pleasure we could indulge in at least temporarily, but with the Mets record at a hapless 14-12, there's certainly no bragging rights to be had in the cross-town baseball rivalry. Even worse are the Rangers, who handily dispatched the dreaded New Jersey Devils in the first round of the playoffs, only to run into the buzz-saw of Pittsburgh in the second round. That series now stands at 3 games to 1, with the Rangers on the short end of things, and with their backs against the wall, have no margin for error without being eliminated. Oh well, this is how it is in sports, sometimes you're the pigeon and sometimes you're the statue, and in spite of the odds-makers, the outcome is always in doubt. I suppose one good thing about the playoffs, champagne works just as well at celebrations for the winning team, as it does at drowning your sorrows for fans of the losing team. As for myself, you can make mine pink.
posted by El Tango Fandango @ 7:18 PM
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