Clown Car

Hello World,

Well, this has been an eventful week, and it's not over yet, not by a long shot. It would be easy to complain about the day after day of nasty and rainy weather, and I was one of the people complaining, believe me. But I didn't let it stand in the way of Walk Group, and although it was a solo effort, I was out there every day despite the conditions. On Wednesday, it was raining harder than I expected, but I was doing pretty good with my jacket on, that is, until a minivan came along and hit a puddle, which drenched me from head to toe, and thanks so very much not. Fortunately, I change into my exercise clothes before I go on Walk Group, so when I got back to my office, I could just change back into my dry clothes and not be wet all the rest of the day. The weather reports had said that it was going to clear up, but after pouring rain all day, it didn't seem like that was ever going to happen. Then suddenly at 4:00 PM, all of the clouds miraculously vanished, leaving behind brilliant sunshine, radiant blue skies, and the most wonderful rainbow that was just a sight to behold. I ran down the hall and made the Accounting people come and see it, since it was only on my side of the building. It was a very special moment on a day that had been less than optimal up to that point, and giving us all a reason to hope for the future.

Speaking of special moments, of course everyone is aware that the end of Daylight Saving Time will be happening after Midnight on Halloween, which I think is one of the worst ideas that they have come up with, since they had it on Easter Sunday, thanks not. So anyone who doesn't remember to do so on Halloween, should remember on Sunday morning to turn their clocks back an hour, as we return to Standard Time for a brief period before the lunacy starts all over again in the spring. Of course, anyone still running an ancient steam-powered version of Windows 2000NT, like we are at the hospital, has already experienced the slings and arrows of chronology run amok, because our computers already fell back an hour last week, since it was programmed to do that automatically on the old schedule of DST in October. So all week, my computer has been trying to convince me that it's earlier than it is, but I wasn't falling for that, because I may not know much, but one thing I do know is that it's always later than you think.

And speaking of being later than you think, we come to yet another twist in the continuing saga of my Halloween costume, which as alert readers may recall, arrived without one very necessary component, and scant days before it would be needed on the Friday before Halloween. I wasn't worried, because it was quite a simple piece, and one that I felt sure I could round up easily on my next trip to CVS or the supermarket. It turned out the joke was on me when I went to the supermarket on Saturday, which I point out was an entire week before Halloween, only to find their seasonal aisle was nothing but Christmas decorations as far as the eye could see. There wasn't a pumpkin, Pilgrim, scarecrow or witch in sight, when two days before it had been a Halloween hot spot, and once again, thanks so very much not. Rather than going crazy and driving around in circles, I ordered it online and asked them to send it overnight, thus averting a costume catastrophe and just in the nick of time. St. Nick of time, that is.

And since today is in fact the Friday before Halloween, I can report that this year's clown costume was very popular at work, much more than I would have expected for such a traditional costume idea. Just like the bride costume, there were plenty in child sizes, but I had a lot of trouble finding one to my liking in adult sizes, where they tended to run more to spooky clowns, or clown criminals, or just plain psychopaths, and I had just about given up hope when I finally found the most perfect clown costume and snapped it up on the spot. Since I was wearing it to work, I decided against big clown shoes, figuring they would be hard to walk in, and settled on a vibrant pair of soft shoes with holes in the front where my multi-stripe socks were supposed to show through, except that my feet were too short for this effect to really stand out. It included a matching hat, and I rounded it all out with an official Bozo red foam nose, a rainbow fright wig, a squeaker horn and the most adorable tiny parasol on a very long handle. The costume itself had polka dots on top and stripes on the bottom, and a plastic hoop in the middle to keep its roly-poly shape all by itself. The plastic was light and flexible enough not to be a hindrance in sitting or moving around, and I had no trouble driving in it. In fact, this had an inadvertent comic effect when another driver cut me off in the traffic circle on my way to work, and I shouted: "You're a moron!" while looking down my red foam nose at them, "I may be a clown, but you're a moron!"

My first stop at work was the computer department, where I told them I was their new tech help, and they agreed that I would fit right in. When I got to my office, people came from all over to see me first thing, and I was surprised at how popular the costume was, everyone loved it. They all said I was so cute, but I find that my coworkers tend to say that about my costumes anyway, regardless of whether I'm a mobster, or the Statue of Liberty, or a devil, or Uncle Sam, when "cute" might not be the effect that I'm hoping for. I found the costume was not uncomfortable, although the wig was pretty warm, but like any costume, it would take some getting used to. Since it's wide, I found I would knock things over that I didn't think I was that close to, and while it's possible to eat a fun-size candy bar with a red foam nose (and I ought to know) I discovered that you can't drink anything unless you use a straw. Every costume is an adventure in the ladies room, and this no different, since you step into it like a jumpsuit, so you basically have to take the whole thing off to go to the bathroom, but at least there isn't plastic grass everywhere, like the Hula Girl costume. It was lucky that it was a quiet day at work, because I found the wig made it almost impossible to talk on the phone, which probably explains the notable lack of clowns in the upper echelons of business these days.

At lunch time, I was off on my trick-or-treating rounds about the campus, spreading joy and sunshine in my wake. I started at the party in Adult Day Care, which is always entertaining, then on to the nursing home, where the DJ keeps things hopping, and the residents may be in wheelchairs, but their toes are tapping, by golly. I wasn't expecting any other parties, but I stumbled into one in Engineering, where one of the housekeepers was retiring after 47 years of service, and there was cake for all, even clowns like me who showed up uninvited, and glad of it. I continued along to the various departments in different buildings, and as usual, the trick-or-treating was hit-or-miss, but I did get some candy in my travels, and even better, I didn't lose candy to pathetic filchers along the way, which is what usually happens, so that I often come back with less candy than I started out with. I was a big hit everywhere I went, and for a change, I wasn't beset with people trying to guess my costume, and coming up with "fairy godmother," regardless of what I'm dressed like. I always say that there's no costume so iconic that people won't get it wrong, but that didn't seem to be the case with the clown costume after all.

No matter where I went, everyone wanted to take my picture with their cell phone, so at least that segment of the technology market is booming, if nothing else. I said they would need to use a wide-angle lens, or stand far away, since the hoop is a full 84-inches around, and on a short person like me, looks even wider. It was a beautiful day to be out walking around, upstairs and downstairs, and I have to cover a lot of ground, so that I don't leave anyone out. In the department of Medicine, they all broke up when I came in, but I shook my finger at them and said, "Don't laugh, I'm one of the new doctors." In the hallway, I bumped into two of the ladies I know from Walk Group, and I said, "Do you want to go for a walk?" They laughed, and I pointed to my 84-inch waistline and observed that the exercise program hadn't really helped as much as I might have hoped. I wrapped up in the Mental Health Clinic, where I announced to the receptionist, "I think I've finally snapped," and she assured me they would hold a room for me. From there, I ambled back to my office, tired but happy, and content in the knowledge that I had brought smiles to the faces of people who probably thought there were already enough clowns in the healthcare industry, but they were wrong, because it turned out there was room for one more.

I hurried home from work and we took pictures as usual, but the best part of the day was that it wasn't really Halloween at all, only Halloween at work, so I didn't have to rush through dinner and get ready for costumed visitors to come calling for trick-or-treat until tomorrow. After I changed, we were able to go out and eat dinner like civilized people, and still have plenty of time on Saturday to get ready for real Halloween in a relaxed and organized manner, rather than pelting around at the last minute like a crazy person. In a lot of ways, this is so much better, making a person wish that Halloween was always on a Saturday, instead of always being on the 31st, no matter what day of the week it might be. Of course, then those dastardly villains would have to find a new day for the switch-over from Daylight Stupid Time, because otherwise, it would just be insane, and I ought to know. After all, everyone knows that I'm a clown and not a moron.

Elle

Wide World of Sports

Hello World,

Well, I don't know about where you are, but in the local area this past week, the weather has certainly been all over the map, and a few places that haven't even been mapped, so from that I guess we can surmise that our old nemesis Comrade Mischka is back at his post at the controls of the Kremlin's infernal weather machine, and up to his old tricks. In fairness to the devious Russkie, it must be said that some of the days were perfectly glorious for this time of year, and a pleasure to be out in them. But they were interspersed with days that were cold, clammy, dank and dreary, and that's not just four of the Seven Dwarves talking, believe me. Some areas had early snow, and I'm thinking that we can't like the sound of that in October, not by a long shot. You certainly don't know what to expect next, so we'd all better be prepared for anything, and that's probably just what we'll get, and in spades.

Speaking of October, this is a time of year when things can be very interesting on the sports scene around here. It's true that the Mets' woeful season couldn't end soon enough, and in many ways, was literally over before it started, although it dragged on all the way through September before sputtering to a dismal close. Across town, the Yankees have delighted the fans of the local pinstripe franchise with their relentless march to the World Series, while the Phillies have got people wondering if this might be their year after all. On the gridiron, both the Giants and Jets got off to fast starts, and although they haven't been able to sustain that momentum, they are still entertaining to watch and could yet end up with surprisingly good records when all is said and done. And as hard as it may seem to believe, the NHL assures me that they do still play professional ice hockey in this country, and after some high-profile off-season player moves, the Rangers are trying to make believers out of the scoffers, jumping off to a 7-1 start and looking like they mean business. Next week, the NBA season kicks off, so it's a good thing that there are 24-hour sports channels, because otherwise, it wouldn't be possible to cover all of the teams in all of the sports that people want to see, and we obviously couldn't have that in a technology-saturated culture like this one, by golly. So for everyone who worships at the altar of sports, there is plenty to be thankful for at this time of year, if only for the realization that Comrade Mischka is merely in control of the weather, and not sports. You can bet that if he had his grubby paws on the Kremlin's infernal sports machine, we'd have the Dodgers playing the Celtics in football, the Patriots taking on the Canadiens in baseball, the Lakers against Serena Williams in golf, and the Cowboys skating around Mine That Bird in hockey, and it would only get worse from there. So the next time we find ourselves suffering from raining frogs or plagues of locusts, we can all be glad that at least our sports are safe from his diabolical machinations.

On the subject of diabolical machinations, of course everyone knows that I hate to be an alarmist, but I see where they've scheduled the end of Daylight Saving Time to be on Halloween this year, and I can't imagine that causing any sort of inconvenience, can you? The scary part is that they actually pay people to come up with these terrible ideas, and after all, we can't blame everything on Comrade Mischka, try as we might. For anyone who wondered how things were progressing in my costume gathering efforts, you may be relieved to hear that other parts of the costume ensemble did in fact arrive, after that first tiny package, and as they are much more substantial than the first item, I think we can safely avoid having an X-rated outfit this time around. Unfortunately, I must have mis-read the description of the costume at the web site, because I thought it included one very necessary component, which it apparently does not, and now I have to go scramble around to round that up on my own. Oh well, it wouldn't be Halloween if I wasn't running around after errant costume parts, so this is just par for the course around here, heaven knows. And the important thing is to remember to be grateful that Comrade Mischka is only in control of the weather, and not Halloween costumes, or else ..... well, you get the idea.

In other news of local interest, I have some bad news for the world-wide spy community next year, because I already went to the ReserveAmerica web site and reserved my regular two campsites at Wildwood next July, and got them for the week that I wanted, so there. Now I won't have to get all frazzled trying to set up on two unfamiliar sites, and the spies will just have to find another spot for their clandestine activities for the week, and good riddance. Now, whatever else may go wrong with my vacation, and there is never any lack of things that can go wrong, at least it will be in the comfort of my own campsites once again, and not off in the wilds of uncharted territory across the street instead. And the spies will just have to fend for themselves, without the friendly confines of C-35 to fall back on this time around, at least not on my watch, and thanks so very much not. Frankly, you wouldn't think that you would have to reserve these two funky, lopsided sites 10 months ahead of time, but after this year's debacle, I'm not taking chances with this anymore, so that's what I'll do if I have to, and beat the spies at their own game. From this point on, they're going to have to get up pretty early in the morning to put anything over on me, because I can be diabolical if I need to, and that's not just the raining frogs and plague of locusts talking, believe me.

Of course, everyone understands by now that the provisions of HIPAA protect the sensitive medical information of individuals from being improperly divulged, compromised or misused by medical providers or other entities that have access to the information for professional purposes, such as insurance companies. It goes without saying that patient confidentiality is a concept that we can all rally around, and never more so than in these paranoid times, heaven knows. But it brought me up short last week, when I got a letter at church from our liability provider, warning us about prayer requests, of all things. They make a point of clarifying that prayer requests are not covered by any HIPAA provisions or privacy protection, however, they contend that there is a burgeoning popular misconception that they are, with unsettling implications. In churches where the prayer requests identify members and their specific problems, so the congregation can pray for precisely what is needed, there is a concern that this violates the person's privacy, having their marital woes, failing health, or financial difficulties bandied about in public, and often when they're not even there to refute any misinformation. What you're left with, as hospital workers can all tell you, is being reduced to general blathering, without referring to anyone by name, or identifying their condition, which unfortunately renders a prayer request about as specific as your average fortune cookie, and without even the lucky numbers that go with it. I don't mind saying that I'm as jiggy with HIPAA as the next person, and maybe more than most, but I can't help but feel that it's a sad state of affairs when you can't even pray for people at church without worrying about violating their privacy, or stooping to the level of vague generalities that mean nothing to anyone. Of course, the next step will be to make people sign a waiver before a church can add them to their prayer requests, or the whole idea may just die off, and we'll have The Tomb of the Unknown Prayer Request, which unlike the Cheers bar, is a place where no one knows your name, by golly.

Meanwhile at work, the hospital management in their infinite wisdom must have become alarmed at record levels of high productivity among the staff, and rather than implementing a drug testing program to see if everyone was taking amphetamines, they decided that we needed a diversion that would slow things down to a crawl. Their idea worked like a charm, because no one could miss the installation of a brand new smoking shelter in the employee courtyard last week, as it took the entire week, and the rapt attention of every single employee on the campus, at all hours of the day. When I first noticed the project getting underway, with the pieces being unloaded from a truck, I thought it was to encourage the smokers to move farther away from the back of the main hospital building, where they tend to gather just outside the doors and under the overhang, and routinely set off the smoke detectors, sometimes several times in the same day. We found out later that it wasn't for the benefit of employees at all, but rather participants in the hospital's substance abuse program, who are regularly brought outside for a cigarette break (the hospital can get them to stop drinking and taking drugs, but apparently when it comes to smoking, they're on their own) and out they go, no matter what the weather. The program received a grant for this purpose, and ended up with a pretty good-sized shelter, including a roof and bench for your smoking pleasure. Although it's enclosed with glass walls, it has two openings, so it can only offer protection from the elements up to a point, and of course, that's if you discount the possibility of raining frogs and plagues of locusts. But still, some protection is better than none, heaven knows, and everyone realizes that things can always be worse, and that's not just the amphetamines talking, believe me. Say, is that the Dodgers and the Celtics playing football?

Elle

Exclamation Point

Hello World,

Happy (belated) Columbus Day! Now, it's true that no one seems to care about good old Christopher anymore, and as a holiday, it's pretty much relegated to just the banks and the Post Office, and they'll close for anything, heaven knows. Where Bill works was closed, so I took the day off too, and nice to have a three-day weekend all to ourselves. Of course, everyone already knows what I think of short weeks at work, and this no different, so having a day off can be something of a double-edged sword, and even more so when I take a day off while everyone else is still at work. But I made it through the week in one piece, and even more incredibly, the homicide detectives never needed to be called in, although it was a near thing on more than one occasion, believe me. Obviously, I know better than to keep a gun in my office, and the building is too short to throw anyone out a window with any impact, but I still did a pretty good job with what I had at hand. That guy from the Lab is probably still picking staples out of himself.

Also at work, it seemed like every day someone on Walk Group would wonder whatever happened to Marathon Margie, who started the group in the first place and then just vanished, and nobody knew whatever became of her. And yet when she called me on Tuesday, I was in such a fog that I almost said: "Who?" She said that she was going around to gather support for one of those "walk for a cure" type of fund-raising events that they have, so I said I'd be happy to be supportive of her efforts. Because the event is on the 25th, which is Reformation Sunday, I would have to be at church instead and couldn't be there in person, or risk getting drummed out of the Lutherans altogether, since we pretty much invented the whole Reformation to start with. But she said that I could sponsor her to walk in my place, and I was happy to do that, and it was great to see her again after what seemed like a long time. I was even more surprised the next day, when she dropped out of nowhere and joined us on Walk Group, and it was just like old times, and a lot of fun. Unfortunately, the good times could not last, because we found out something about Margie that we never knew. Apparently she's been working as a sort of adjunct in our Diabetic Teaching Unit, as a nutritionist and educator, as part of a grant that the hospital received from the New York State Department of Health, and which expired in September. So her position is no longer funded, and until the grant is renewed, she really does not have a position at the hospital in the interim. So it was a kind of bittersweet reunion with Walk Group, and we're all hoping that things will work out so that she can come back and keep us on the right track to health and fitness. After all, a stapler is not a long-range weapon, so I need to be able to chase after people if I have to.

In other work news, I had no choice but to go to Administration today, where it seems like I haven't been for a long time, since I admit that I had forgotten to go pick up time cards for the last few pay periods like I usually would. I had neglected to change into my non-skid sneakers before I went, and found myself approaching their door in slippery dress shoes, since I remembered too late about the new slick floors in there, which are like trying to walk across an ice rink. So you can imagine my surprise when I pulled open the door from the hallway, and stepped solidly onto the new carpet runner that covers the length of the office, once again making the department safe for pedestrians. "Oh, carpet!" I couldn't help but blurt out when I stepped on it, as if this was some brilliant safety innovation, and not like they didn't have carpeting in there for decades without endangering anybody. So it would appear that the days of the high-speed skee-ball track in Administration have come to an end, although it is only a carpet runner, and could easily be rolled out of the way, for those of us who want to practice changing into cartoon characters and turning around in mid-air, hopefully without the cartoon anvil that usually shows up at the most inopportune moments.

Speaking of opportune moments, everyone knows by now that I spend a lot of time and effort at this season of the year, gathering costume elements so that I can entertain the devotees and startle the unwary on Halloween, and this year no exception. Although I didn't start as early as I should have, I still thought I had everything under control, and would have all the necessary parts in place in plenty of time for the big day, which for me, will be happening a day early this time around. So it was with some trepidation that I picked up a package in the mail that was about the size of a postage stamp, and weighed absolutely nothing, and yet I recognized the return address as the costume store where I had placed my order, indicating that this would indeed be my Halloween costume. "Gee, I hope not!" I said to Bill, figuring that this package would be incapable of holding anything more substantial than a couple of pasties and a G-string, if that. I realize that after the Hula Girl costume of last year, it might seem like a natural progression for me to dress up as a stripper this year, but I can assure everyone that would not be my intention. I think we can all agree that the bed sheet ghost costume would be the coward's way out, but it must be said that the Halloween stripper is an idea whose time has not yet come, and at this rate, I doubt that it will ever come, and that's probably a good thing.

On the topic of good things, I believe that the psychological benefits of FaceBook have been woefully overlooked by the medical community for far too long. (Don't tell me to put down that stapler, I'm serious about this.) It's true that on the surface, FaceBook would appear to be nothing more than a superficial waste of time without any redeeming social value, sort of like cable television, if they had a frat party channel. But in so many ways, FaceBook is really like a perfect world, where you can go and have fun, communicate, do lots of different things, and unlike real life, everything always turns out well. So many of the applications are so similar that you know what to expect from one to another, whether you're in a mob, on the farm, in Sherwood Forest, or fighting off vampires. You start by creating a character, and they already give you a place to live, play money, things to do, and they let you know other friends who are already playing the same application, so you can go visit them. Every day when you show up, you win more game coins just for being there, and for everything you do, you earn points, regardless of whether you do it well or not. In fact, even if all of your crops die, when you plow them under and start all over again, you gain points, and just try doing that on a real farm, by golly. You can use your coins to buy things for your character, like clothes and furniture and decorations, and everything you buy earns you more points. The points help you move up from one level to the next, and at each level, you have access to more luxurious items than the previous level. It's more collaborative than competitive, and they want you to succeed, so all of the rewards are accompanied by a lot of fanfare, with cheering, fireworks, ribbons and effusive proclamations that make you feel like you just won the Nobel Prize, even if all you did was play virtual Frisbee with your virtual pet. You are encouraged to send free gifts to your friends, and they send you gifts too, so you both get gifts and more points just for that. You get points for visiting your friends, and extra points for helping out on their farm, or at their restaurant, or in their mob, or Band of Merrie Men. It's deceptively seductive, because each one is designed for you to be successful at every step along the way, so that basically all you have to do is show up and play, and you gain the rewards that are built right into the program. In fact, yesterday I got 30 coins for LOSING a race, and as far as a reward system goes, I don't see how you can beat that. It isn't a question of skill as much as persistence, and every day is like Christmas, as one windfall after another is bestowed upon all of your characters in the various games that they're in. It's like having a limitless doll house with all of your friends, and unlike dolls in the real world, you can buy these all the outfits, furnishings and gadgets that you want for nothing, except the time it takes to earn the game coins. I call this the "Barbie Dream House" for grownups, which in stark contrast to reality, is where fun is guaranteed, boredom is unlikely, and failure is impossible. I can be the Queen of my Domain, and I don't mind saying, it's easy to get used to being treated like royalty. Why, I haven't even had to use my virtual stapler on anyone.

Elle

Keep on Truckin'

Hello World,

Well, it will do no good to wonder where the month has gone already, heaven knows, now that it's already a third of the way over, as hard as that might seem to believe. But I can tell you that anyone who is not all set by now with their Halloween costume, had better get on the stick and hop to it, and no joke. I actually know someone who falls into that category, and who shall remain nameless but looks suspiciously like me, and should have long since been finished with all of the costume gathering aspects of this process, and that's not just the fun-size candy bars talking, believe me. And even more so, you would think, since Halloween actually falls on a Saturday this year, so some of us will be wearing our costumes to work on the Friday before instead, giving us even less time than usual to get ready. Oh well, I've never been a ghost so far, so I guess the old bed sheet idea might be the way to go this year. There's nothing like the classics, I always say.

Speaking of classics, if anyone asked me to name my favorite brand of chocolate, it would be Cadbury far and away, even compared to the priciest gourmet confections from the world over. Nothing could sway me from their milk chocolate, which is creamy and flavorful to perfection as far as I'm concerned. I consider myself a huge fan, which is why I wouldn't expect them to do something that I wasn't prepared for, and totally out of the blue. But that's what happened to me earlier in the week. when I left work and found myself unaccountably behind what appeared to be the Cadbury Adams van, which I never knew even existed, and yet here it was, right on the street with me. I would think if they had a van, I would have seen it long before now, and it would be impossible to miss, because it was painted all over to look like a package of Dentyne gum. It also included the names of other brands in the Cadbury Adams fine family of products, such as Trident, Certs, Bubblicious, Halls, Chiclets, Clorets, Swedish Fish, and many other sweet treats for a clamoring public. I don't know if the van drives around just for the sake of publicity, or if they use these vans to make candy deliveries, but it certainly got my attention without even trying, and if I thought they were giving away free samples, you can believe that I would have followed it to the ends of the earth, and then some.

I think it was the very next day that I found myself in back of another truck, perhaps you've seen it also, from our friends at Georgi Vodka, and which is helpfully painted with a nearly naked woman on each side. As an attention-getting device, this would be hard to beat, because the paint job really does the trick, and lets you have it with both barrels, as it were, while leaving just about nothing to the imagination. Prowling around through the Red Light District in the wee hours, this truck would fit right in, but going to work at 8:30 in the morning, I found it a little hard to take, and that's not just the bikini wax talking, believe me. I can't help but think that this truck driving around unbidden, with its startling pulchritude right out in front of everybody's face, probably causes more traffic accidents than people drinking their vodka. At least that's one thing you can say about the Cadbury Adams van, it's not going to make anyone drive off the road with their eyes bugged out of their head and screaming at the top of their lungs. And for anybody who saw me do that when I thought they were giving away candy bars, I would just like to state for the record that it was merely an exaggeration for comic effect, I can assure you.

I've been continuing with the hold-overs from Walk Group, in spite of the fact that I find them slow and prone to taking too many shortcuts, besides being what I would describe as fair-weather walkers and their hearts are not really in it. One day last week, we were shambling along (I said to Bill that I think of this as Stroll Group, rather than Walk Group) when Jessica tripped over a bump in the sidewalk and nearly lost her balance. "That's what I get for texting while I'm walking," she admitted. I pointed out that's why they don't let you do that while you're driving, because people need to watch where they're going in order to avoid accidents. And I couldn't help but add, since I was next to her at the time, that if she was relying on me to catch her when she fell, I felt obligated to tell her that my reflexes were not what they used to be, and my days of catching things in mid-air were about 40 years behind me, so she shouldn't be counting on me to rescue her from danger. When it comes to gravity, about the only thing that I'm going to catch before it hits the floor these days is a fun-size candy bar, and as for everybody else, I may as well tell you that you're on your own.

Last weekend, we had an acquaintance drive all the way in to the area from the Windy City, and cleared some time in her schedule just for us, so we were quick to oblige. We met at the Day's Inn at Newburgh, which although it is right near the airport, is nonetheless in a very scenic area along a lake with beautiful views. In the parking lot is a locally famous diner, Johnny D's, where the joint is jumping 24 hours a day, and if you show your Day's Inn room key, you get a 10% discount on your meal. We had brunch there, and I can vouch for their pancakes, which were excellent, while Bill took a chance on their cinnamon French Toast, which turned out to be just as good as it sounds. It seems that the Stewart Air Force Base is nearby, and I would tell you that the diner was awash with soldiers, except that they were all wearing camouflage, so I guess that nobody could see them. That would have helped our waitress, who brought a tumbler of orange juice to the next booth, and proceeded to spill it all over the customer instead of putting it on the table, and probably wished that she could vanish into thin air right at that moment. She felt so bad that she came to our table and told us what happened, and we did our best to cheer her up, under the circumstances. You know I always say, this gravity business is a double-edged sword, and that's not just the orange juice talking, believe me.

Newburgh is a happening place, with lots of shopping, services and activities all within easy reach, and for anyone who wanted to go diner-hopping, if there is such a thing, I can tell you that this area would be pretty much ideal. We all stayed overnight at the Day's Inn, which is a nice comfortable hotel with reasonable rates, and amenities such as WIFI, business center, fitness room, and breakfast included in the room rate, not to mention that great view of the lake. Their larger rooms are very spacious, but we found our single to be a bit cramped, and bereft of any conveniences like a coffee maker, microwave or refrigerator. The breakfast choices are rudimentary, and when the hotel is full of conventioneers as it seemed to be, you'd better get there early, or go away hungry. In the morning when I was out taking pictures, I came upon a small building attached to one of the hallways, that opened up onto a lawn, and I figured it was their banquet room, for parties or receptions, and the lawn was where they could put up a tent or chairs, and have entertainment, barbecue, dancing or whatever under the stars. Not so fast! When I got inside, I found myself in the same hallway that the building was attached to, and discovered that it was actually their pool, all in a room by itself, and probably opening up onto the lawn where they would put lounge chairs in the summer. It was a nice looking pool, but would have been easy to miss, since it was not only closed, but covered up, and since none of their literature mentioned a pool, we wondered if it was closed for the season, or permanently. I have to say that a pool certainly would have improved our impressions of the place, so it was unfortunate that it wasn't available while we were there, if at all.

We had some time on our hands during the day, so we took a short jaunt over to nearby Warwick Valley, home of the historic Sugar Loaf Village, which describes itself as " ... an interesting mix of practicing artisans, eclectic shops and galleries. Established in the early 1700's, many of the buildings are still being used today." You are welcome to head right on over to www.sugarloafartsvillage.com and see for yourself, although speaking just for myself, if I had a tourist attraction that I wanted people to visit, I would personally avoid having anything that looked like "farts" in my web site address. Be that as it may, we found the place with no trouble, and proceeded to stroll along their wooden sidewalks with the other sight-seers, and browse in the interesting shops. There's paintings and antiques, photography and pottery, farmers market and florist, pet supplies and apparel, and plenty of hand-made everything from candles to jewelry to soap, plus much more. It might remind some of Woodstock from about 30 years ago, before it went commercial, and this little funky hole in the wall might not be for every taste. But I will say that overall, it was probably the best smelling place I have ever been in my entire life. It seems that everyone there makes their own incense, and every shop you go in smells like sandalwood, cinnamon, lavender, peaches, vanilla, roses, cherries, pine, lilac, melon, gardenia or peppermint, until you just about forget what regular air smells like. In New York City, this is where they make the joke that they have to hold the unresponsive person under the exhaust of a bus until they regain consciousness. If this happens to me, please make mine a Cadbury Adams truck instead, because the smell of chocolate should be all I need to come around, and that's not just the fun-size candy bars talking, believe me.

Elle

Farm Aid

Hello World,

Happy October! We find ourselves at last in the month of goblins and jack-o'-lanterns, and not a moment too soon, because the weather this week has definitely been what the poets would describe by saying that the frost is on the pumpkin, and they wouldn't be far off the mark. It's almost like someone flipped a switch, starting on the first day of Autumn, and suddenly the perfect fall weather just showed up, right on schedule. If only that same someone had done the same thing for the first day of Spring, it could have saved all of us a lot of suffering for three months, heaven knows. The newspapers are awash with notices of fall fairs, harvest festivals and apple picking, going on right now in every county of the state, celebrating Nature's bounty with fun for the whole family. There's everything to like about these crisp clear days and refreshingly brisk nights, and we'd better get out there and enjoy them while we can, because eventually our old nemesis Comrade Mischka is going to get back from the awards ceremony, and it will be back to the Weather of Mass Destruction that we have all come to know and loathe.

Speaking of loathing, a couple of weeks ago I finally broke down and got gas, even though it was priced at some outrageous amount that would have made people in 1973 jump out of their skin, and then their skeleton would ride a bicycle to work rather than pay it. I remember thinking at the time that gas prices would probably come down after that, so I was surprised the next day, when it was still the same. In fact, it took two more days, but the price finally dropped 5c a gallon at all once. The week after, it dropped another 7c a gallon, and today when I went past the gas station, it had crept down another two cents. Obviously, there's only one thing to say at a time like that, so I may as well say it: "You're welcome."

It's been a while since we checked in with Walk Group, and alert readers might be wondering what's going on with the dashing ladies in their race for better health. Alas, the large group that started bright with promise in June, dwindled down to a measly few by July, so that when I came back from vacation, I was lucky to find 2 or 3 other people to go with, rather than the 12-15 we started with. Then even those people went on vacation, and suddenly it was just the group leader, Marathon Margie, and me going out together three days a week. On the days when Margie would be at a different facility, I was on what I would describe as "solo Walk Group" all by myself, which gave me a lot of freedom in terms of time, speed and route, but was as boring as it could possibly be. I was determined to stick with it, because I found it really did improve my stamina, but there was certainly nothing interesting that could be said about stamping for miles around town with only myself for company. Then in September, even Margie went on vacation, and suddenly, I was all that Walk Group had to keep the vision alive, and I picked up the mantle and carried it five days a week, no matter what and no excuses. The weeks came and went, and she didn't come back, which made me wonder. But in an odd twist, this week I bumped into three hold-overs from the original group in June, and found that they were starting into walking again, but at a different time on a different route, so I decided to throw my lot in with them, as the new modified Walk Group. They hadn't walked in three months, and it really showed, because these same ladies that I used to have to trot to keep up with, now couldn't begin to keep up with me, and I could have easily left them behind without trying. I slowed down and stayed with them to be sociable, which was more interesting than walking by myself, but not much of a workout, especially when they took a shortcut back and called it quits, leaving me to make up the last half-mile on my own. I tried to be encouraging and supportive, to help them get back into the good fitness habit once again, but the next day, they all begged off, and it was back to "solo Walk Group" for me. This time, the joke was on them, because when I was barreling down Union Avenue as usual, I was surprised to bump right into a mariachi band milling around on the sidewalk, in full regalia of black velvet suits with white braided trim and fancy sombreros with pom-poms along the brim. They could see that I meant business, so they moved out of my way, and I don't know which of us was more surprised, because that was certainly a first for me on Walk Group, and that's not just a lot of Mexican hat dancing, believe me.

A few weeks ago, I hurt my heel, possibly from pounding out the miles around town with Walk Group, and it's been bothering me ever since, although I've been trying my best to ignore it. Bill got me heel cushions for my shoes, and they really help make the pain more bearable, since I have to be on my feet anyway, Recently a couple of co-workers noticed me limping in the hallway and asked what was wrong, but I explained to them that it was nothing more than a shameless ploy on the part of my foot to arouse sympathy, and they should please pay it no mind, because otherwise, it just encourages it, and I was hoping to avoid that. The best that they could muster in the face of that incomprehensible onslaught was a feeble, "Oh," as I limped off and left them standing there and shaking their heads, and no wonder.

It must be said that FaceBook is not for everyone, however, for people with a lot of time on their hands, it can be highly entertaining. Besides communicating with people you know (or even total strangers) in a variety of ways, they provide a wide array of games, contests, trivia and all sorts of interesting applications to while away the time with, from morning until, well, back to the morning again, and I ought to know. There are target games, word games, matching games, speed games, and games that literally defy description, and believe me, I've tried. You can take a survey, take a poll, take a quiz, or try your luck with their optical illusions or riddles. You're welcome to start your own Zoo, and the sponsors will donate money for the protection of endangered wildlife, or grow your own Li'l Green Patch, with money going to save the rainforests. Or you can simply move in and take up residence, living vicariously through your animated character in Sorority Life, FarmVille, Restaurant Life, Fashionista, Robin Hood, or keepin' it real in the 'hoods of YoVille with the home boys. It would surprise anyone who knows me that I actually have two farms, each one more pathetic than the other, and it would not be an exaggeration to say that in my case at least, it was a good thing that the Industrial Revolution came along when it did. I'll be the first to admit that I'm not much of a farmer, and I find that I am routinely plowing under crops that have all died off from neglect since the last time I was at the farm. In fact, it's only because other farmers give me gifts, or I wouldn't even have a tree to call my own, much less fences and hay bales. I don't dare get any farm animals, because I think we can all see the handwriting on the wall there, although without any fences, I suppose the animals could just wander off and find a better home on their own. One reason that I don't spend enough time down on the farm is because I'm also in two mobs, and although I'm only a low-level street thug, I've been doing pretty well for myself after embarking on a life of virtual crime. One of my thugs owns a bar, gas station, convenience store and warehouse, while the other one has sizable cash assets, plus an inventory of weapons ranging in variety from a broken bottle and brass knuckles all the way up to automatic weapons and attack dog. Here again, other mobsters can send me gifts, which is sort of like me being a third-world country, and they are the criminal equivalent of UNICEF or something. The scary part is that I'm a much better street thug than a farmer, which I personally find a discouraging prospect for anyone living in the land of amber waves of grain with purple mountains majesty above the fruited plain, by golly. But I offer this information for the benefit of the President's financial advisors, in their quest to provide economic stimulus funds where they will have the most impact, because I can tell them from experience that organized crime is doing a lot better than agriculture, so when it comes to handing out government subsidies, it might be time for them to face the music and change their tune. Say, who let that mariachi band in here?

Elle