Fan Dancer

Hello World,

Happy Labor Day Weekend! Of course in these parts, it is generally considered the end of the summer season, so it may not be regarded as a happy occasion by everyone, particularly the "back to school" set, but for fans of three-day weekends, it comes as a welcome treat. It's true that it seems ridiculously early, and actually, it's the earliest that it can be, since Labor Day is on September 1st, which is Monday. I had somehow convinced myself that, like Election Day, you first had to have a day in the month before you could have the holiday (because of this rule, the earliest Election Day can be is on the 2nd, not the first) but apparently that doesn't apply to Labor Day, and so here we are already. And even though the holiday itself is in September, the long holiday weekend starts on August 30th, and for some of us, even sooner. I had an appointment on Thursday, plus a meeting after work, and some other things I wanted to get taken care of, and I thought it would simplify matters if I just took the whole day off. It occurred to me later that if I also took off Friday, I could have a bunch of days off in a row (especially if I played hooky from church on Sunday as well) and that would be a nice change of pace for me. I knew I had to go in to work on Friday for a bit anyway, because they wanted the payroll finished early due to the holiday, but it was still better than being at work all day. So for me, the Labor Day weekend started on Wednesday, August 27th, and for that I say, "God bless the spirit of Samuel L. Gompers!"

When I mentioned to Bill that I was surprised Labor Day wasn't like Election Day, so that you couldn't have it on the first of the month, he made the point that when he was a youngster, Labor Day was always on September 1st, regardless of what day of the week it fell on. This prompted me to observe that it would have been back in the days when the dinosaurs were roaming the vast unformed land masses, but he took umbrage at that remark, and insisted that he was born during the presidency of Dwight Eisenhower, and the dinosaurs had been extinct for many millions of years by then, as hard as it might seem to believe by young whipper-snappers nowadays. So there you have it, holiday fans, although I don't dare say it's straight from the horse's mouth, heaven knows, if he objects to being lumped with ancient reptiles, I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate being stable mates with the ponies either.

One thing I did last week that should make everyone in the local area happy is go and get gas at long last. When the Sunoco station down the block was selling regular for $3.93, I drove a mile out of my way to the Exxon station, which is usually cheaper. No such luck, it was the same price at that time, but I was still glad to get it under $4.00, so I considered it a great bargain and drove off very happy with my purchase. Ever since then, I've been watching the price at the Sunoco come down a few cents every day, so that by today, it was 12 cents less than when I got it last week. Somehow, the gas always manages to stay the same price, as long as I'm driving around and watching it, but then as soon as I break down and fill up, then the price drops at stations all over the place. So that was my good deed for the benefit of the wider community, and I'm sure the President's economic advisers appreciated it also. No, please don't thank me, after all, virtue is its own reward.

Meanwhile, in the "deja vu all over again" department, one morning when it was too dark to read my new scale, I moved it closer to the window, and lo and behold, just like my old spring scale when I would move it to different parts of the floor, it gave me a bunch of wildly divergent readings that were many pounds apart. When I first tried the new scale, and found that it had packed back on an extra 12 pounds that I thought I had already lost, compared to the old scale, I took it at its word, because it was shiny and new and digital, so I figured it had to be right. But I also tested both scales side by side, using some dumbbells, and if I would put 20 or 25 pounds of dumbbells on the new scale, that's what the display would show, but on the old spring scale, it would read consistently too low. So I figured the new scale was accurate, and left it at that. But I hadn't considered that when I tested it, I put it on top of my dresser, which is not only flat, but of a single piece, so there were no seams or edges for the scale to wobble on. This is not the case with the floor, where each foot of the scale could be on a separate tile, with all four edges pushing up unevenly against the bottom. I couldn't see any way around that, because I rejected out of hand the idea of climbing up on my dresser every morning to weigh myself on a large flat surface. Then I remembered that we also have a handy blanket chest with a large flat surface, which is long and low like a coffee table, and I thought this would fit the bill nicely and solve at least one problem on the spot. So I've been doing that since, and I must say that the results have scaled new heights of consistency, that never could have been achieved on the floor. So there you have it, accuracy fans, a story with a happy ending, where right triumphs over crookedness.

In local sports news, the Mets seem bound and determined to lose their way out of first place in the NL East, while for their part, the dratted Phillies seem just as determined to stay in second place, rather than overtaking the division lead and leaving the Mets in the dust. This is in stark contrast to three of the other divisions, where the first place teams are 30 games over .500 and leaving their nearest rivals floundering in their wake, while the Phillies and Mets are slugging it out in a quagmire of mediocrity that the media wags refer to as the NL "Least" and with good reason. That reminds me of a quote I read recently, but first let me say that for anyone who hasn't already tried songza, which is a sort of online jukebox (and please feel free to give them a try at www.songza.com and see for yourself) you're really missing something, and I can highly recommend it. Bill found a review of it and some technical information at www.geekycoder.com, which was really interesting, although a bit too arcane for the average visitor perhaps. The page also had a reader comment complaining about all of the typos, while making allowances for the writer's lack of fluency in what might not be his native language. Au contraire! (That's French for, "English 'R' Us!") The writer insisted that although he was based in Singapore, English was indeed his first language, and blamed carelessness for the typos and not translation failures. This surprised me, because when he described a problem with a particular function of the service, his comment was, "How this feature can be useful at all fathom me." Well, I guess it would fathom me too, unless English was my native language, in which case I would realize that "fathom me" is not an expression that we use, at least not up until now. Someone else having this problem, in spite of English being their native language, was Yonkers police Captain Frank Bruno, after they arrested some youths for vandalism, based on an anonymous tip, without which the arrests could not have been made. "We would have been in a lurch," said Bruno. Indeed you would have been, right there at 0001 Cemetery Lane with the rest of the Addams family, and lucky to get any help out of Uncle Fester, if that. So there you have it, sports fans, or to paraphrase the immortal Casey Stengel, "Can't anybody here speak this language?"

While we're on the subject of languages, you can imagine my surprise last week when I was coming home from a hard day of shuffling papers at the hospital, and found myself behind a truck that was emblazoned all over with the single word: "BIMBO." Frankly, this is not a category of people that I expect to have their own fleet of trucks, and anyone can call me naive (they'd better not!) but I admit that it not only fathom me, but I was also in a lurch, and Uncle Fester was nowhere to be found. Incredibly, the truck was also emblazoned with their web site address (and please do go visit them at www.bimbo.com and see for yourself) so you know I had to hurry home and check that out and see what they were up to. Presumably, "bimbo" means something entirely different in Spanish than it does in English (and a good thing, too) and these nice folks sell a wide variety of breads and bread products, they are happy to tell me, "por un mundo mas tierno." Their home page highlights one of their newest products, "Nuevo Bimbo corteza tierna blanca, el unico con la corteza tan tierna como la miga," with lots of pictures of happy children, beaming parents and soft fresh breads. It's really very interesting, and you'd be surprised how easy it is to find your way around their web site, even though everything is in Spanish. Having said that, however, I must point out that a web site for the English language version of "bimbo" couldn't help but be way more interesting, certainly more than funky old Spanish white bread, but that would be taking the moral low road, and we should all remember that virtue is its own reward. So there you have it, bread fans, and please be sure to encourage your friends to get out there and go pick up a Bimbo. Tell them Uncle Fester sent you.

Moon River

Hello World,

Welcome to the very much non-official email of the 2008 Summer Olympic Games in Beijing, China, formerly known as Peking, but then again, who's counting? Besides, that was way back in the days when the dinosaurs were roaming the vast unformed land masses (and I ought to know) and nobody even remembers that anymore, except old fogies like me and, well, the dinosaurs, I guess. So the Olympics have been carrying on for the last couple of weeks, and being pretty entertaining by all accounts, what with old records being broken and new records being set, and not even a single international incident to mar the idyllic harmony of peace and goodwill to all. So to all of the nay-sayers out there who felt that there couldn't possibly be Olympics in China, because after all, the world is flat and anyone who tried to sail over there would just fall off the edge ..... no wait a minute, that can't be right, those were Christopher Columbus' nay-sayers. Well, to everyone who said that they can't possibly put a man on the moon, or they might just as well put all of them there ..... no that's not right either, that's the punch line to a completely different joke altogether. Oh well, I'm sure the nay-sayers must have said something about the Olympics being in China, heaven knows the nay-sayers always seem to have something to say about everything, but they've been proven wrong once again, and I'm just as glad of it. After all, where would we be now if Christopher Columbus hadn't sent those men to the moon to prove it was round? Why, we might all be speaking Chinese today, and I don't know about anyone else, but I can tell you that the dinosaurs and I would never be up to it, and you can bet your Hong Kong Bok Choy on that.

Speaking of sports, the Mets have slowly but surely been clawing their way back up to respectability, and at last the day came when they found themselves perched atop their division in the NL East, a game over their closest rivals, a scenario which would have seemed impossible just scant weeks earlier. Of course, there's still 35 games left to play in the season, and a lot can happen in that time, not all of it good, believe me. But there's also worse things than being in first place in August (you can check with the Atlanta Braves and get back to me on that later) so the important thing is to enjoy the moment, however fleeting. Now, it must be said that the Mets being in first place is nothing shocking on the local scene, and in fact, it takes a lot more than that to stun the home-town fans, but there were two instances lately when events did exactly that. The first was when the lowly Jets, who are earnest but often inept, signed superstar quarterback Brett Favre from the Green Bay Packers, in a move that would make fans of another team giddy, but Jets fans know better. They may be shocked, but they're not stupid, and they've been too disappointed for too long to believe in miracles now. On the other hand, if everyone only listened to the nay-sayers, we'd never have the Nina, Pinta and Santa Maria on the moon right now, and we'd all be speaking Chinese, or something like that. So it remains to be seen if the age of miracles has really passed, or whether Brett Favre and the Jets can actually scale new heights that haven't been seen by Gang Green since the heyday of Broadway Joe Namath, or should I say, be still my heart. Meanwhile, the world of sports broadcasting was rocked earlier this week when the team of Mike and the Mad Dog went their separate ways after 20 years together on the radio, and to say that it was the end of an era would be putting it mildly. Chris Russo (he's the "Mad Dog" part) decided against all logic to leave WFAN sports radio after being with them since their inception, and elected instead to go into exile on Sirius satellite radio, where I'm sure their dozens of fans will lose no time in welcoming him with open arms, probably as much as 50 altogether, if you multiply each person by two arms. In the media, the hand-wringing and gnashing of teeth was a sight to behold, and far outweighed the outcry for poor Chad Pennington, who lost his job in the Brett Favre deal, after putting in years of dedicated service with the organization. Well, to paraphrase Calvin Coolidge, the business of sports is business, and when it comes to giving fans the business, the New York sports scene is all over it like a bad suit.

Alert readers may recall my old beat-up spring scale, which I've been using to track my progress in my new and improved health and fitness regimen, in the hopes of seeing improved numbers as time goes on. I don't like to complain about the poor old dear, bless its little corroded heart, because it's not only as old as the hills and doesn't owe us a thing at this point, but I'm sure it's doing the very best that it can. However, it must be said that the results it provides can vary wildly depending on a variety of circumstances, such as where it's positioned, the time of day, atmospheric conditions, tides, electrical interference, political unrest, apathy, alignment of the planets or perhaps the meddlesome activities of space aliens. Bill, who can always be counted on to be helpful, thought that having a brand new digital scale would be just the thing, and got me one from a company whose name is a hallmark in the industry of weights and measures. Unfortunately, when I tried it earlier in the week, I was dismayed to see that it had packed on 12 pounds that I thought I had already lost, compared to the old scale, and I don't mind saying, certainly not the direction that I was hoping that my fitness efforts would be going in. And this would also not be the first time in my life that I'm thinking that accuracy is vastly over-rated, no thank you so very much not.

While we're on the subject of accuracy, Bill found some room for improvement in a few online surveys that he took recently, for instance, this question from our friends at Greenfield Online:

===================
Which City do you stay?
- Los Angeles
- New York City
- Chicago
- San Francisco
- Boston
===================

Then there was the one from PC Magazine, where he clicked on the button to start the survey, only to be directed to a page that announced:

=========================================
Thanks for your participation! We hope you enjoyed it!
=========================================

Boy, talk about the bum's rush, they don't even give you a chance to get your foot in the door. Meanwhile, our friends at Zoomerang usually offer demographic questions with multiple choice answers, where you can select, for instance, your gender, income level or marital status from a list of options. That was noticeably missing on these next questions, where respondents were unable to answer even the simplest questions about themselves:

=======================================
2. Please select the category that includes your age.
[__]

7. Which one of the following best describes you?
[__]

8. In which state do you live?
[__]

9. Which of the following best describes your employment status?
[__]
========================================

It probably came as a surprise to the Zoomerang survey team later, when they found that people couldn't tell them where they live or how old they are, which are not the kinds of subjective, opinion-based questions that people normally have trouble with on surveys. I mean, I agree that accuracy is over-rated and all, but this is taking misinformation to a whole new level.

Of course, everyone already knows how I feel about those new bathtub-shaped cars that look like nothing so much as little silver doorstops with four doors, and then they slap a spoiler on the rear end, as if that somehow makes the doorstop look more sporty or something. Frankly, I don't know what a sporty doorstop would look like, but I think it's pointless to put a spoiler on anything with more than two doors, and expect it to look like a sports car, which it clearly is not. Actually, I like a nice four door sedan as much as anybody, but I object to it being misrepresented as something it's not, with this totally preposterous spoiler tacked on the back for no purpose. Call me delusional (don't you dare!) but I really thought that was as far as they could go, in terms of making cars look ridiculous and completely out of character. Then last week, as I was pulling out of our neighborhood, I had a car drive in front of me, and here as Dave Barry always says, "I'm not making this up," it was a tan minivan wearing a bra. Personally, I think car bras look silly under the best of circumstances, but this minivan was a whole new low in absurdity, and would have to make you concerned about the owner's sanity, not to mention, fashion sense. I can't help feeling, if this is the state that we have sunk to, after millions of years of evolution, well, perhaps Mark Twain said it best when he pointed out that humans are the only animals who blush, or have a reason to. Honestly, some times you just have to shake your head and wonder, is this what Christopher Columbus went to the moon for?

Blue Berry Hill

Hello World,

Well, as far as I know, no one ever said, "Beware the Ides of August," and I'm not going to be the one to start, but there's no denying that we're already at the half-way point of the month, which is a sobering thought at best. They tell me that this time of year, the constellation of Sirius, or dog star, rises in conjunction with the sun, which inspired the ancients to refer to this period as "the dog days." Nowadays, we think of the dog days more for their oppressive heat and wilting humidity, and don't wonder that the rates of crimes and suicides go off the charts in August. Around here, that hasn't been the case, as the first two weeks of the month have seen some wildly unpredictable weather, much of it rainy and downright cool, which is as unseasonable for this area as it is unexpected. I can't say what might be in the days ahead, but for the dogs here right now, I can tell you that they're wearing sweaters and rain boots.

Speaking of clothes, earlier in the week I was stopped at a traffic light, and couldn't help but notice the young lady who was walking across the intersection in front of me. She was wearing a wildly flowered blouse along with a different but also brightly flowered skirt, and I watched her cross in front of me, trying to figure out if it might have been some sort of coordinated set, because otherwise, I couldn't imagine anyone pairing that top with that skirt, and then going out in public. While I was studying her outfit, she moved out of the shade and into the sun, and suddenly I noticed that everyone in the intersection would be able to see right through her skirt, as I could, without even trying, which I certainly wasn't. Mind you, I don't see well at all, and if even I could tell what color her underwear was, you can understand what I mean about this skirt. Of course, we've all heard of fair-weather friends, but this would be my idea of a foul-weather skirt, because you wouldn't dare take it out in the sunlight.

In other local news, and this of a more welcome variety, the encouraging trend in lower gas prices noted previously has continued apace, and we're seeing regular gas selling for under $4/gal at numerous stations in the area, for the first time in a long while. Now it must be said, whoever thought that we'd get to the point of rejoicing at gas that's still over $3/gal, but after a few weeks at over $4/gal, you'd be surprised at how a drop of fifty cents looks like a bargain. I remember when the price of gas first went over a dollar, and we used to long for the days when I first started driving and it was only 28c for a gallon, and if you drove out to the hinterlands, you could still get it for 25c instead. (And they pumped it for you!) Nowadays, people would give their eye teeth for a return to anything under $3, which if nothing else, is certainly a very telling indicator of just how far our expectations have lowered in comparison to how high the gas prices have risen.

Recently, I found myself having an unexpected craving for something I haven't had in years, probably since high school. I don't know what incited this sudden urge, but it just seemed that one day, it was all I could think about. I figured there was no point in going to the supermarket to look for it after all these years, because most likely, they wouldn't still make it anymore, or it would be so altered over time that it would be unrecognizable from the original. But I was going to the supermarket anyway, so I figured I might as well take a look as long as I was there. I don't mind saying, a lot has changed in the yogurt business over the years, one of which is the packaging, so you can't hardly identify what you're looking at, since the containers look identical with only the different flavors printed in teeny tiny type at the bottom. This is a far cry from the old wax carton days, when each container was a different color to match its fruit, which was a big help, and the flavor was also written in large letters besides. But after enough poking around, I found that Dannon did in fact still make lemon yogurt after all these years, which used to be a particular favorite of mine, so I snapped some up and hoped for the best. I said to Bill later that I was amazed that not only was it as good as I remembered it, which is remarkable in itself (especially since childhood treats like Twinkies and Devil Dogs have been "improved" to the point where there's no sense in having them at all) but because they changed it from Lemon to what they described as Lemon Chiffon, it was even better than the original, almost like a wonderfully smooth and creamy lemon pudding instead of yogurt. So that was a blast from the past that turned out to be a real treat, and not to mention, unexpected besides.

In other fruit news, I had picked up a box of Entenmann's Little Bites to bring on vacation, which are small packages of mini muffins for handy take-along snacking. I think they're pretty good for packaged muffins, especially their banana walnut, and the individual packs keep them soft and moist. They didn't have any banana walnut when we were shopping for camping supplies (and I don't mind saying, another reason that I'm continually tempted to take my grocery business away from CVS altogether) so I got a different flavor instead. I couldn't help but notice on the front of the package, the following inscription in large letters of an attention-grabbing sort:

BLUEBERRY
MUFFINS
Made With Real Blueberries

Now, I realize that they put lemon fragrance in everything from deodorant to car wax, and you practically can't buy a cleaning product that isn't one kind of citrus scent or another. But I admit that it's beyond my comprehension how you could make something that could be called blueberry muffins, and NOT have real blueberries in it, so this seemed like a curious announcement on their part, as if it was a unique feature of their product. Unlike artificial sweeteners, I haven't heard that anyone has yet invented fake blueberries to take the place of the real thing, so I'm stumped at the idea of how Entenmann's thought it might be possible to substitute something else in the place of real blueberries, and still come up with blueberry muffins when they were finished. At least, they thought there was enough danger of this eventuality, that they printed the disclaimer on the front of the package, to reassure us wary consumers that they hadn't snuck those ersatz blueberries past us, at least not this time around.

Alert readers may recall my note of March 7, about how we tried out a new Italian restaurant for our 25th anniversary, and found it less than ideal in many ways. The Journal News recently sent their food critic there, and in their REVIEW: SPADARO IN NEW ROCHELLE by Liz Johnson of July 23, it begins with this opening salvo -- "Here's the thing about Spadaro: There is no menu." Heck, where were you 4 months ago, when we needed to know this before we blundered into the place? In fact, the headline of "Hits, Misses Mark Spadaro Visit" probably would have been enough to warn us away from the place altogether. She goes on to say that the antipasti had tasty prosciutto and cheese, but described the asparagus as slimy and the mussels and clams as "off." She also said the pasta was good, but the sauce was overcooked, while the grilled shrimp tasted of bleach, and the lamb was disappointingly average, especially for $35. She didn't sidestep or downplay the most unavoidable aspect of the place, stating quite plainly: "There are just 36 seats at Spadaro. Be prepared to meet new friends, forged by proximity, which is either good or bad, depending on your mood and their manners." (Without specifically mentioning the tiny tables, she notes that after the appetizers were served, " ... we had to consolidate and stack to make room for wine.") After posting the review on the newspaper's web site, readers wrote in with their own comments, including this one that sounds like I wrote it, but didn't: "I thought you were very charitable when describing the close seating at Spadaro. You are literally on top of the other diners. Readers should also be prepared for the service issues, long waits regardless of reservations." Another chimed in, "Glad you finally made it to Spadaro. As I had mentioned, it has its pluses and minuses. Hopefully they will be able to work out the kinks. They need more help. It is a more pleasant dining experience early in the week and early in the evening." Frankly, I find that last comment rather discouraging, since Bill and I were there on a Monday at 5:45, and found it unbearable, so if it gets worse than that later, well, I shudder to think. All in all, I can't think that the Spadaro family would have been all that delighted with this review, which would probably serve to keep more people away than encourage them to give it a try, and would have been better off not getting themselves in the newspaper in the first place. On the other hand, for fans of slimy asparagus or bleached shrimp, and for all I know, their name might be legion, please feel free to hurry on over and squeeze right on in there. Maybe try some of their fake blueberries while you're at it.

Sit On It

Hello World,

And so we come at last to the end of yet another in a long series of weeks, and I don't mind saying, with no end in sight. At this rate, we'll be out of August before we've really gotten started. Of course, things can always be worse, or perhaps it just seems that way. We were watching the replay of a Mets game from the last week in July, and Keith Hernandez, who is a former Mets player turned announcer (and please do visit the web page of the broadcasting team at www.garykeithandron.com and see for yourself) was explaining that one of the key players for the Florida Marlins was having an off-year. He claimed this player started out well in April and May, then cooled off in June and July, and had been up-and-down all through August. Since this game was played at least a week before August even started, Bill and I figured that it would probably be discouraging news to that poor player to find out that Keith had already decided that he was going to have an up-and-down month ahead. I always say, there are some things you're just better off not knowing.

That reminds me that this time of year, it's common for us to have one or more large spiders taking up residence on our front porch, and terrorizing visitors and delivery people alike with their wide-ranging webs and menacing habits. I thought it was unusual that I hadn't seen any up to now, thinking it was late in the season to still be waiting for our first porch spider, when I happened to step outside late tonight and almost bumped right into it. It was a good thing I didn't, because it was about the size of my fist, and had a look on its face like a Mafia hit man about to plug somebody full of holes, and I say that as someone for whom spiders hold no dread. Honestly, every year we have large spiders on the porch, which we usually refer to as The Jumbotron, but I don't seriously think that I have ever set eyes on a spider of this enormity in my entire life. At least I don't have to worry that he will go to the store and buy a handgun, because they would take one look at him and refuse to do business with him, since he's obviously a Mafia hit man. The best part of all is that our house has more than one door, so I can just avoid the front porch from now until the cold weather sets in, when he will most likely head south for the warmer climate in Florida, and from then on it will be their problem and not mine. Those crazy people down there would probably sell him a handgun anyway, even if he is a Mafia hit man, because heaven knows, there's no standards anymore.

In other news of native species, I have consulted with my botanical expert, my sister Diane, who assures me that the mystery vine taking over our ivy patch from the resident Thorndale ivy (the stuff with the round leaves, so I know it's not porcelain berry) is Bittersweet, which is another foreign invasive that people spend a lot of time and effort to eradicate out of their yards. Our local newspaper ran a story recently on these types of pests and vines, along with helpful hints to combat their spread. You'll be glad to learn that their number one tip for invasive weeds is "Don't plant them in your yard." (DUH!) Gosh, I wish I had read that story BEFORE I planted all of that poison ivy everywhere! (NOT) The other mystery was some lovely bright yellow flowers in our backyard that had been given to us years and years ago by a neighbor, who told us what they were at the time, but which we had long since forgotten. What with the miracle of the information super-highway nowadays, I thought it would be a cinch to find out what these were, because they had enough distinctive characteristics to make them easily identifiable. Not so fast! Apparently all of the comprehensive databases for plants require you to know the name of the thing you're looking for, while the regular gardening sites where you can look things up by their color, don't have every plant that you might be interested in. So I spent a long and frustrating time searching but not finding what I wanted, and wasting a lot of effort for no results. Every yellow flower I looked up either had too many or too few petals, or the leaves were round instead of pointed, or it grew too tall or too short, or turned out to be something that was only found in New Mexico. Finally, after church on Sunday, I just drove to our local nursery and decided to wander through the aisles of their capacious perennial displays, and hope to spot anything resembling it on my travels. Incredibly, it turned up in the second row of plants that I came to, and I knew it was just what I was looking for, because it looked exactly like what I had at home, with the same exact flowers and the same exact leaves. Even though I already had some at home, I bought one from the nursery anyway, so I would have the botanical information that went with it. It turned out to be Evening Primrose, which is something that I had found in my online searches, but one that I eliminated for having the wrong number of petals or wrong-shaped leaves, and yet, here it was in person, exactly the right thing. I'm sure there's a moral in here somewhere --something about persistence, and the old ways are best, and technology is no substitute for hands-on experience -- but I'm just glad to get to the bottom of this floral mystery at last.

As long as we're being grateful for small favors, this was another week that made me glad I went on vacation when I did, because the weather was unpredictable at best, and very bad at its worst. Because of an unstable weather system that had stalled over us, it seemed that every day, there was also a curious feature of threatening thunderstorms, but not raining, and then after all the noise stopped, and the sun came out, then it would rain. It certainly didn't have a lot to recommend it, except perhaps in the novelty department, and that's the kind of thing that only goes so far. But it was such a glorious day on Friday that I was out walking around the hospital campus in the afternoon, and thinking to myself, by golly, if they could bottle this ..... well, I don't exactly know what the upshot of that would be, but I can tell you that San Diego would be in big trouble.

Speaking of trouble, I will not go so far as to say that my life is spiraling out of control, because that would not be the case. But I am a busy person, and don't have time to fritter away on trivialities. So it happened that I got one of those tell-tale envelopes in the mail that obviously has a new credit card in it, and nowadays, you can't just put it in your wallet and get on with your life, because you first have to call the darned place to activate it, even if you've had the same account since you were in high school, no thank you so very much not. I don't even mind calling them so much, because I'm on board with the idea of tighter security on credit cards, but then you have to listen to them try to sell you credit card protection, and life insurance, and don't forget those bonus points and special discounts and extra rewards, until it's like a full-time job just to get your own credit card up and running. So it arrived before my vacation, and you have to imagine that this is me, sort of waving at it and going, "yeah, yeah, later for that" and leaving it on my desk to take care of at another time. (Like I have time for THIS!) Mind you, I have a wallet full of various cards, not just credit and debit and ATM cards from the bank, but also department stores and gas stations and whatever else, so it basically could have been anything from anybody. Most of them, I don't use very often, so I figured I had plenty of time to take care of it whenever I got around to it. Then on Saturday, when I was on my way to pick up my sister at the train station, I stopped at Sunoco to get gas, inserted my card into the pump like I always do, only to have the card rejected for being expired. Well, I guess we just figured out which credit card that was that had come in the mail!

Of course, I had no one to blame but myself, for ignoring the envelope with the new credit card the whole time, but I was annoyed for a couple of reasons. First of all, I was already late to pick up my sister, and this was only going to make me later. But the other thing was that during the week as I drove past the Sunoco station on my way home from work, I noticed the price of gasoline creeping down from about $4.35/gal to where it was $4.17/gal by the beginning of last week. By the time I got there on Saturday, it had inched even lower to $4.13/gal, and I was raring to get at that bargain price while the getting was good, and feel like a real sharp customer. But it was not to be, and with no time to waste, I jumped back in the car and drove a mile out of my way to the Exxon station, where I supposed that my credit was still good, and pulled in there. You can imagine my surprise at finding the price there was only $4.09/gal, and you can believe that I filled it up right to the top and felt like John D. Rockefeller himself.

Also feeling pretty good these days, I hadn't been to church for three weeks in July because of my vacation, and when I finally got back there, I joined the rest of the happy throng in welcoming the return of the errant pew cushions at long last. (And here, I mean "errant" in the sense of wandering, and not moral deviation, which is a fault that I would never ascribe to our upstanding cushions.) In fact, it would not be an exaggeration to say that we fell all over them like the father in the parable of the Prodigal Son, and jumped into our seats like a drowning man on a life preserver, and glad of it. You can be sure that never was heard a discouraging word, and there's nothing like a few weeks on hard wooden benches to make you really appreciate that soft cushiony velvet when you get a chance to sit on it again. I wouldn't say that our worship was more inspired, or that we sang any better, or even that we sat up straighter and paid more attention to the sermon, but I do believe that everyone would agree this was a big improvement, and not something to be taken for granted. After all, if the absence of a loved one makes the heart grow fonder, as the proverb goes, then it stands to reason that the absence of a cushion makes the backside grow flatter, and heaven knows, you can't have holy rollers that are flat on the bottom, by golly. So the return of the pew cushions was a good thing, as it has been throughout all of church history, at least I think that's what John Milton was referring to when he penned his classic, "Paradise Restored."

Forget Me Do

Hello World,

Happy August! Just when we thought that July had plenty of life left in it yet -- poof! -- suddenly it's all over, and we find ourselves plopped into a new month, ready or not. Of course, the stores already had their back-to-school merchandise out in June, so it does no good now to bemoan the summer passing too quickly. The key thing is to get out there and enjoy it, and be sure to get your licks in while you can, whether it's hammocks, lemonade, swimming pools, watermelon or just the simple joys of a frosty ice cream cone on a summer afternoon. Speaking of frost, we were in CVS after dinner, and spotted a seasonal display of sale items, with a blaring banner that screamed "JUMBO 7oz FREEZER POPS." I said to Bill that you shouldn't be allowed to use the word "jumbo" in conjunction with anything that is measured in ounces, and that's all there is to that.

While it's true that I came back from camping safe and sound, I'm afraid I can't say the same for all of my brain cells, the poor dears. On my return to work the following Monday, I completely forgot to bring my shoes with me, so I ended up wearing my sneakers all day long. I thought that was funny, because while I was getting dressed, I was trying to make up my mind between two different pairs of shoes that might go with my outfit, so you would have thought that would have been enough to make me remember, but even after I decided which ones to wear, I never went to the closet and got them before I left. In fact, that whole day and into Tuesday, I had trouble concentrating on my work, and even the most routine things seemed beyond my capabilities. Although I was only off for about a week and a couple of days, it seemed like I hadn't seen my office in a month, and trying to get my bearings was an uphill battle all week. I felt like a stranger in a strange land, or an office temp at some business I had never seen before. At least one thing I realize now I should do before I leave, is to make a list of all the codes and passwords I need to access the office equipment and programs that I use at the hospital (for instance, the voice mail, email, fax machine, copier, telephone, computer and even the darned forms printer) because it's obvious that I can't count on my brain to remember all of that when I come back from vacation.

One good thing that happened in an otherwise challenging week back, was that our friends at Smiths Medical, who assure us that they are "bringing technology to life," went to all the trouble to mail us a very carefully addressed envelope to the attention of the Purchasing department, and it was completely empty. That certainly made me feel better right there! It was obviously 42c they could have saved their shareholders, but it was priceless to me, because it made me realize that I was not the only person coming back from vacation and not being able to cope with mundane office tasks. At least, I hope this was some mundane office task that they mis-handled at Smiths Medical, and not that they failed to send us some urgent product recall that will jeopardize the health and safety of patients and staff alike. I admit that I had some difficulties remembering some of my various code words and access numbers right off the top of my head after a week in the woods, but at least I didn't have to write myself a note that said, "Remember to insert mail into envelope before sealing," which is apparently what they should have done at the offices of Smiths Medical.

Another good thing since I've been back is the weather, which has been horrible, and reminds me to be grateful that I didn't have that same kind of weather when I was on vacation. I was lucky to have good weather all week, and that makes a big difference when you're camping, better than the same week at home, and certainly better since. In fact, even though they had bad storms in Connecticut while I was there, which usually has the effect of making the water at the beach on our side choppy and murky, that never happened, and the water was smooth and clear all week. I would say that I can't remember that ever happening before on my vacation, but everyone knows that I can't remember anything anyway, so that would be pointless.

One day last week, it was so miserably hot and humid, that I didn't want to leave my building if I didn't have to. At lunch time, I decided to cross over to the main building underground, only to find that it was even more miserably hot and humid in the tunnel, which was hard to believe, although I suppose it was only to be expected with the Laundry and boiler room in there. It occurred to me later that most likely the only cold place in the whole tunnel was the Morgue, and because they always keep the door closed, no one would ever guess that it's probably where everyone goes to hide and "chill out" to stay cool, while the rest of us are sweltering. Of course, at the hospital, it's not what you know but who you know, so with my luck, there's probably some kind of secret password that you need to get in there with the rest of the cool people. Heaven knows, I should write it down now, because I certainly won't remember it when I get back from vacation and want to sneak in there when it gets too hot.

While we're looking on the bright side of things, we have what I consider the positive aspect of an unpredictable memory. Of course, everyone knows that I suffer from Sometimers disease, which is that sometimes I remember and sometimes I don't, and there's no telling which is going to happen when. So I often go into a room and forget what I went there for, and have to walk back to where I started in order to jog my memory, or else I go to get two things and only remember one, so that I have to go back a second time. On the face of it, this would seem time consuming and non-productive, and it would be all too easy to let these kinds of petty annoyances get under my skin. Fortunately, I'm made of sterner stuff, so I look at this from the other way around, and consider this all part of my new and improved health and wellness regimen. So whenever I have to make two trips instead of one, or waste time running around in circles looking for anything that should have been right there, I remind myself that getting too much exercise is not something that I have to worry about, and this is not a bad thing. Personally, I think the medical community has been remiss in not promoting the fitness benefits that a faulty memory can lead to, because the less your brain remembers, the more your body has to do to compensate for it. I'm thinking it will get to the point that we can't recall who we are, but we'll look great.

Speaking of activities, I seem to have returned from vacation with a full head of steam, and this is the first time I can remember in a long time that I finished all of my camping laundry in a week after coming home. After unpacking both cars, I sorted everything into piles of similar items, and then wrapped it all up in three loads of wash and hung it up to dry. All I have to do now is just repack it upstairs with my camping supplies, because most of what I take camping with me stays packed all year, and I don't use it for anything but vacation. So this didn't turn into one of those years with moldy piles of smelly camping laundry still laying around weeks later, and a good thing, too. After all, getting too much exercise is not something that I worry about, and launder-obics works for me.

One unexpected thing that happened this week is that we went to the movies again, for the second time this year. We saw the new Will Smith movie, Hancock, and found it very entertaining and enjoyable. It would not be for every taste, as it's a sort of gothic comic book, but we thought it was very well done and interesting. It didn't even have a bad ending, which was remarkable, since it seemed they had figuratively painted themselves into a corner with the story line, and left themselves with limited options to get out of it. But they managed just fine, and we were glad that we went to see it. Although it was occasionally loud and somewhat busy, it was never overwhelming, and it didn't sacrifice the story for the sake of special effects. It reminded us a lot of Men In Black, which also had some awesome special effects, but not at the expense of telling a story that made sense, or characters that you really cared about. That seems to be a lost art among modern film makers, so this was a welcome departure, and a very pleasant evening's diversion. At least for me, it was a big improvement over launder-obics, and don't forget, getting too much exercise is not something that I worry about.