Happy Days

Hello World,

Happy (belated) Earth Day! I certainly hope that you've been busy doing your part to save the planet, because if nothing else, the Hubble space telescope has proven that this is the only one in the universe with chocolate. Not to mention, green beer. (I asked you not to mention that!) Anyway, that's reason enough for me, although it doesn't hurt to also have spectacular displays of spring flowers everywhere you turn. Anyone with dogwoods can tell you that they are putting on a show, and our wisteria is a sensation in lavender, dilly dilly. The little yellow flowers at church were outdoing themselves, like good Protestants, while all of the bushes have gotten so over-exuberant that a person passing by on the sidewalk would never even know that we have signs on the property, much less be able to actually read any of them. Around here, we call that being a little too much of a good thing, but let's face it, on a planet that already has way too much bad news, having too much of a good thing is not a bad thing, if you know what I mean.

Also at church, the winter storms took their toll on the premises, from shingles blowing off the roof, to the parking lot company knocking our fence down with their snow plow, and thanks so very much not. I met the insurance adjuster there recently and showed him around, and he was very understanding and sympathetic to our plight. Although I will say that he pretty much had the same attitude about our pilfered railing as the 12-year-old from the Police department, so there's certainly been no outpouring of support on that situation, in fact, I don't know what the opposite of outpouring would be, but you'd be able to hear that unmistakable sucking noise from wherever you are, believe me. Our insurance agent explained that our next step would be to get estimates to repair the damage, which would be covered by our policy, except for the deductible. Even in a small congregation like ours, we figured that enough people would know a roofing or fence company so that we could get a few estimates to submit with our claims. Not so fast! It seems that the storm damage was so pervasive throughout the region that it was impossible to get a roofer or fence installer (I suppose there must be a reason they don't call them fencers) for love or money, or even eternal salvation, which our church offers in abundance. Many weeks and innumerable phone calls later, we have yet to find anyone to look at the roof, proving that these are indeed boom times for the roofing companies, which is why they have that expression that it's an ill wind that blows no good. But for those of us needing someone to fix our roof, this would be one more example of too much of a good thing, only this time, it really is a bad thing.

In other local news, I don't often find the inside stories in the newspaper to be all that riveting, but I thought these quixotic headlines were certainly more than enough to get my attention --

AP Poll: Legal pot won't fix economy

Casino to replace fake prostitutes

White Supremacist rally turns violent

Mind you, this is in the regular newspaper, not one of those goofy tabloids where the lead story is about a space alien giving birth to a five-legged horse who looks like Elvis. I admit that I didn't read the rest of the stories (and once again, because it was in tiny fuzzy gray type on a dingy background, I couldn't read it even if I wanted to) but sometimes you just have to shake your head and wonder. From the blatantly obvious, to the bizarre, to the non sequitur, and back again, it was certainly a wide-ranging day in the so-called news, and I'm not sure that the headline writers were equal to the challenge. And while the jury may still be out on legalized marijuana and fake prostitutes, I think we can all agree that there's already too much violence in the world, and too much of that is never a good thing.

In other happy news, earlier this week we witnessed a phoenix rising from the ashes, and a more welcome sight would be hard to find. It all started when I got a phone call from Administration asking if I was planning to go to the Secretary's Day luncheon on Wednesday. I said don't be absurd, they haven't had that for years, and they're certainly not going to start now. Oh no, she assured me, she was holding the RSVP memo in her hands, from Patty Delvecchio in Personnel, that said it would be on April 21 at the Davenport Club from 12:00 to 3:00, and my name was on the list of people eligible to attend. I said that's exactly the kind of practical joke I would expect from that darned Patty, and if I go there on Wednesday, only to find the country club is closed for renovations, and the entire building is covered in scaffolding, and all of the construction workers laugh at me, well, I'll know who to blame. She laughed. And so it came to pass that after several years' hiatus, the hospital once again participated in the Chamber of Commerce's luncheon for Administrative Professionals Day, and wild horses could not have kept me away, that's for sure. It was a lovely day, and just like old times for those of us who had been attending the luncheons over the years, and perhaps even more appreciated now for its absence. It seemed a lot more streamlined than in previous years, with fewer speeches, proclamations, awards and dignitaries slowing down the proceedings, and I don't mean that in a bad way, believe me. We had a very nice lunch served with smooth efficiency, and the raffle prizes were dispersed with a minimum of fuss, unlike the raucous free-for-all of yesteryear. Although I didn't win anything for the people I was playing for, at least I didn't jinx my table-mates as I used to do, so they had no reason to banish me from their midst. All in all, it was a happy time for all, and a welcome return of an old favorite that many of us believed was gone forever. On the other hand, if the club had been closed for renovations when I showed up and the construction workers laughed at me, I might have at least found a roofer or fence-fixer while I was at it.

Speaking of fixing things, the hospital management must have once again become alarmed at record levels of high productivity among the staff, and decided to schedule work to be done on the temporary boiler house in the courtyard last week. Alert readers may remember that this "temporary" structure has been taking up space in our courtyard since 2005, and has been renovated twice, so the "temporary" nature of the edifice is a purely theoretical one, with no basis in reality or accurate definition of the term. They didn't close off the courtyard, but cordoned off an area with yellow caution tape, and then proceeded to take down the plywood sheets from the sides, revealing the enormous bright turquoise boilers within. I had seen them years ago when they were first brought to the courtyard with cranes, but for anyone who wasn't here at the time, this was mesmerizing stuff, and it didn't take long to draw a crowd from all over the campus. The work took about 10 days, and proved an endless source of fascination for the employees, who clustered in the courtyard day after day, with a rapt attention that the Environment of Care Safety Fair could only dream of achieving. If it was the management's plan all along, it did indeed have the desired effect of productivity going right down the tubes, and for the entertainment value, it would be hard to beat. By Friday, all of the plywood had been replaced, and then instead of painting, they covered it in brick-colored paneling, which if nothing else, would seem to render it even less "temporary" than painted plywood. As for myself, I'm just as happy they're finished, because I know the next step of the process is to replace the fence around the building, and I plan to get my hands on one of those fence guys, by hook or by crook, and I don't rule out the possibility of fake prostitutes, if that's what it takes, and you can quote me.

Also at work, I just discovered that there is a temporary secretary upstairs in Finance, filling in for the Executive Secretary who has been out on disability, although you understand that HIPAA provisions would prevent me from disclosing anything more about that. (Actually, I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you.) In any case, she came into my office this week to ask about getting a date stamp for their mail, because the CFO wanted the time and date stamped on paperwork that passes through their office. I told her that there is already one on the desk, it was the same as mine, because I knew they were purchased at the same time, and while I was explaining that, I pointed it out on the desk and said hers would look just like it. At that, she got a funny look on her face, then shook her head and said that when she asked someone else what it was, she was told it was an electric stapler, and she had unplugged it because it was making too much noise. I pointed out that it was never going to be much of a date stamp as long as it was unplugged (besides which, I found out later, she had also put it on the floor under a table) since it used an electrical clock mechanism to keep the time and date current, while pulling the plug on it turned it into something more akin to a $750 paperweight. I followed her upstairs and got it all set back up for her, with the correct date and time, and rewound the ribbon so that she was soon back in business, and ready to date stamp whatever came her way, or know the reason why. I told her the CFO would no doubt be so happy, not having to spend the money on a new date stamp, that they would give her a raise, and I figured that she was new enough that she would probably fall for that and wonder what to spend it on. So now I'm guessing after all that, can the legalized marijuana and fake prostitutes be far behind? I think not!

Elle

Flower Power

Hello World,

And so here we find ourselves already on the other side of Easter, even Greek Orthodox Easter, which I believe coincided with Easter for the rest of the Christian world this year, and I hope that the Easter Bunny stopped by on his rounds at the appropriate time and place, and left baskets of goodies in his wake. There were certainly no complaints here, as our holiday baskets revealed treats of every description, including candy, snacks, housewares and even clothing. We gave high marks to the Bunny for originality and ingenuity, and that's not just the Cadbury Creme Eggs talking, believe me.

Our original plans for Easter had earlier fallen through, when a relative became ill and was not up to visitors, so that idea had to be scrapped. We made do by visiting my sister on Long Island, and it was a beautiful day for that, as warm and sunny as anyone could want, and twice as welcome after the long cold winter which clutched us in its icy grip. We went to the diner for lunch, which is always nice, and they had just recently re-opened after extensive renovations, so it was even more interesting than usual. After that, we ran some errands, since all of the stores are open nowadays regardless of the occasion, unlike years past when religious holidays were sacrosanct, and you couldn't go shopping if your life depended on it. It turned into a kind of a long day full of wild goose chases, where we tramped from store to store not finding what we were looking for, and the wild geese didn't think much of it either, by golly. But since we had missed getting together for our birthdays last month, there were belated birthday presents to open and enjoy, and everyone knows that a little of that goes a long way with me, so the day was not a total loss after all, and that's also not just the Cadbury Creme Eggs talking, believe me.

Between Good Friday and the Monday after Easter off from work, I wound up with two short weeks in a row, and on top of the computer problems I was already having, it quickly became a situation that was ready to spiral out of control, with the unfortunate consequence that people saw a lot more of my Evil Twin over the course of those two weeks, than the sane and accommodating person who usually works in that office, and I ought to know. It was also the first week of the new baseball season, which had its ups and downs, as so often happens, and is often wildly non-representative of how the rest of the season will play out for any particular team. Some of them, like the Phillies, leaped out in front with a 7-1 start, while other sank like a stone, or bobbed in the murky undercurrents of mediocrity, like the Mets, whose 3-6 record has given their legion of disappointed fans no reason to forget last year's summer of futility, try as they might. In other sports news, the hockey season finally lurched to a close, with the Rangers being eliminated on the last day in the shoot-out against the dratted Flyers, which was a heartbreaking end to a dismal season, which no amount of off-season player moves might hope to rectify at this point. Personally, I believe when a team finishes out of the playoffs, instead of trading the players as they always do, the team should trade their owners and managers, and I wouldn't be surprised if this simple alteration could usher in a whole new Golden Age of Sports in this country in no time.

On the local scene, I realize that I spoke too soon when I said that there weren't any dandelions yet, because they certainly were out in force in our backyard, and not a bit shy about showing off their golden yellow petals for all the world to see, or at least, that part of the world that spends any time in our backyard anyway. I also spotted multitudes of violets popping out in the driveway, which I thought was way too early, but apparently I was alone in that opinion, for there they all were, big as life and twice as lovely. It's apparently also not too early for star flowers and bleeding heart, because ours were busting out all over, and not shivering in the shadows in their long-johns and ear muffs, not by any means. But I was surprised to see, when I was outside taking pictures, a few very early English wood hyacinths, while the rest of their less exuberant compatriots will be following along in another couple of weeks or so. Also while I was taking pictures, I did indeed stumble across the first of our rampant alien mutant poison ivy in the backyard, and standing straight up like a bush as it does, in spite of what the botanical experts will tell you, and thank you so very much not. But one of our lilacs is open already, bestowing its heady fragrance like a goodwill ambassador, while the lamium has spread forth a veritable carpet of sunny yellow flowers that are a delight to behold. So that pretty much rounds out the usual landscaping cast of characters for this time of year, except to mention an inordinate number of large bumblebees, who have no business being out this early, which is obvious from the fact that you either find them flying around aimlessly inside the house, or walking around outside with a sort of dazed and confused look about them. Sort of like the Mets, only without the cleats.

Speaking of dazed and confused, last week at church, we were having a particularly hectic morning before the worship service began, with people running every which way to get things set up, and frantic whisperings of last minute instructions, along with elaborate pantomimes and gestures to convey meanings that could not be explained in words. It was already past the time that worship should have started, and since the prelude had long since been finished, the organist was doing an admirable job at vamping until we got our act together, and could collect ourselves to get underway with the business at hand. All of this hullabaloo caused our interim pastor to quip: "People who are always complaining about organized religion should come to see us here at Holy Trinity, we're about as disorganized as a religion can get!" He may be on to something there.

Meanwhile, what may be new and exciting in the world of household utilities, you may be wondering, and well may you wonder. Luckily, we have the Con Edison Customer News to keep us up-to-date on the latest developments in electricity, natural gas, steam, and other energy options. The breezy News comes as an insert with our monthly bill, and I have to admit that I have never found it very interesting, and rarely give it more than a cursory once-over before it's on its way to the recycling basket. But on the newest one, I couldn't help but notice this arresting headline:

Manhattan Walk-in Center Moves

Here I'm thinking, I guess if you have a "walk-in center," you can't be surprised if it does move. After all, if it did walk in, there's no reason that it can't just turn around and walk right on out again, and you'd be left with an empty space and wondering where it all went wrong. I didn't read the whole story (actually, I couildn't read it even if I wanted to, because it was in tiny fuzzy gray type on a green background) so I don't know if they ever found their errant Center again, but I've got a tip for them. They should rename it the Manhattan Stationary Center instead, and then at least they would be sure that it would stay put.

Also not saying what they mean, we have our friends at Asian Power Devices Inc., and their Important Safety Instructions for a computer peripheral that I just got at work. Just their name alone sounds like someone's idea of a bad joke, not to mention an easy target, but if I was going to choose that name, I would be scrupulous that my Important Safety Instructions would provide no opportunity for ridicule over typos or inapt translation miscues. I thought they were doing pretty good in the beginning, with short simple sentences like "Keep these instructions" and "Heed all warnings" and "Clean only with dry cloth." I was perfectly willing to let it slide when they had some inadvertent spacing issues, and came out with some odd looking combinations such as, "Apolarizedplug" and "manufacturer' sinstructions" and "when a car ti sused," or my personal favorite, "theo bsolete outlet." I wasn't even going to call attention to their alert about tampering with the case, although without any punctuation, their warning "Do not open the equipment to reduce the risk of electrical shock" sounds like exactly the opposite of what they intended. I was perfectly fine with all of this and prepared to give them the benefit of the doubt, until I got to the very last item on the page, #19 which states: "The mains plug is used as the disconnecting device and shall remain readily operable." Well, now I'm sorry, but that is not only bad English and makes no sense, but I'm not even in the ballpark as to what they were trying to convey with that, and I already understand safety instructions pretty well as it is. So to our translation-challenged friends at APDI, I give an E for effort, but my advice is to leave off that last one, and just hope that it wasn't a really critical safety feature, if the mains plug is not readily operable. Personally, I would blame it on the manufacturer' sinstructions (which sounds like the kind of thing you would expect to get from disorganized religion) and feel free to go right ahead and tell them I sent you -

Theo Bsolete Outlet

Easy Street

Hello World,

Play ball! As far as I'm concerned, any week that includes Opening Day is automatically a good week, and life is worth living again, just by virtue of that. Just seeing the teams come north, and back in their own ballparks again, in front of the hometown faithful, is enough to dispel the gloom of winter and face the new season bright with promise. Everything starts over fresh, and last season - good or bad - is just a fading memory that has lost its power to either amaze or confound. It may still be pretty chilly in some of the baseball cities around the country, but when the Boys of Summer are back in town, we all have reasons to hope for better days ahead, and that's not just a lot of peanuts and Cracker Jack, by golly.

Speaking of better days ahead, it's easy to see that Spring has really sprung in the local area, with the early flowering trees putting on quite a show from one end of town to the other, and just about everywhere in between. It's too early for dogwoods, but the neighbor's magnolia is open, and everywhere you go, there are early pink and white explosions of cherry or crab apple or what-have-you, to cheer the winter-weary soul and delight the downcast. As if that weren't enough, the Spring flowers are outdoing themselves in colorful profusion, with a riot of daffodils, hyacinths, anemones and even tulips, all decked out in their seasonal finery, and brightening up even the deepest recesses of garden, lawn or walkway. Our inaptly-named Glory of the Snow finally opened (when it was 80 degrees, thanks not) and even our grape hyacinth, although it seems way too early for that. Everywhere you look, it's a rainbow-hued tonic to chase the winter doldrums, and even with your eyes closed, the Spring birds are singing up a storm to entertain and encourage. It's times like this when I realize that it's the invigorating rebirth of Spring that makes Winter endurable, and if Spring didn't exist, someone would have to invent it.

In other weather news, I can't say that I've seen any dandelions yet, although I don't doubt that they've already started to poke their sunny yellow heads above ground in the more exposed locations. Also slithering in unnoticed so far, I expect that our abundance of rampant alien mutant poison ivy is just lurking in the shadows, waiting for its opportunity to ensnare the unwary in its menacing tendrils, and standing straight up like some freak of nature, instead of creeping subordinately along the ground like it's supposed to. But I will say that I've already seen one harbinger of Summer that was as welcome as a warm breeze, and that was a returning ornamental from last year, even though it was planted in the infamous rosebush graveyard, it was more than equal to the challenge and did not let the area's bad luck, bad karma, or bad reputation stand in its way. And while we're on the subject of graveyards, I couldn't help but notice the story on the AOL Welcome Screen about a scientist who is refuting the widely accepted theory that an asteroid led to the extinction of our old friends the dinosaurs, insisting that it was long-term climate change that was to blame instead. Paleontologist Michael Prauss has examined core samples near the impact site, and finds the Chicxulub meteor theory to be lacking, while competing scientists studying the same data are standing by the conclusion that their beloved meteor is the one and only culprit. "It is almost impossible to change the skeptics' minds," sniffed one of the affronted members in the meteor camp. The article continues: "Paleontologists are dating the scene of the crime and placing environmental suspects at the scene with some pretty strong arguments," which sounds to me like someone who's been watching just a few too many police procedurals on TV, rather than the usual dusty dissertation about geology and the fossil record. I can assure you that the dinosaurs and I would be having a great big laugh over this whole so-called controversy (scene of the crime, indeed) if only they were still around to enjoy it, alas.

Of course, things can always be worse, heaven knows, and often in the most unexpected places. Today Bill and I were at CVS and checking out the drinks in their coolers, and among the soda, bottled water, juice and sports drinks, there alone was one new blended concoction in a small bottle with the unlikely price tag of $999.99, which we thought was out of line, even amidst today's over-priced beverages. While it would be all too easy to scoff, I don't mind saying that the last time I spent that kind of money on anything, it came with power steering and a spare set of snow tires. I'm thinking that they're not going to be selling a lot of those, because even with a sticker that said "NEW," it didn't entice Bill to buy it, and we all know what he's like when it comes to new products. That reminded me of a quotation that we received at the hospital from our friends at ALCO for some replacement seats and leg rests for wheelchairs, and which concluded with this arresting statement:

*** QUOTE VALID UNTIL 12/31/5999 ***

Frankly, we considered it excessive for the company to hold the line on their pricing for almost 4,000 years, although we couldn't help but admire their unbridled optimism in the future of humanity, especially the coworker who insists that Barack Obama is the Antichrist and that Armageddon is right around the corner. Also at work, we all received a press release that announced in large type: "Blood Donor Program Gives the Gift of Life." It goes on to state, and you don't need Dave Barry to be sure that I'm not making this up, that the program " ... makes giving the Gift of Life easy for community residents ... " and follows that up with this blistering harangue, that would be enough to quail the most determined donor -

"Individuals 17 years of age (16, with parent's consent) to 75 (76 and older, with doctor's written approval), in good health, and weighing at least 110 pounds are encouraged to donate. In addition to the age requirement, a prospective donor must provide photo identification (driver's license, passport, etc.) and the last four digits of their social security number (used for tracking donations)."

You can believe me when I say that only hospital administrators would throw these kinds of roadblocks in the path of blood donors, and then have the nerve to describe this program as "easy" for anyone. Of course, us old-timers at the Employer of Last Resort can still remember when the department heads complained that the annual employee appraisals were too long and cumbersome, so the hospital formed a committee to revise them, with the perhaps unintentional result that the appraisal forms actually ended up being longer than they were to start with. In fact, they announced this with great fanfare as an improvement, which would seem inconceivable to normal people, but is just another day at the office for hospital administrators, and I ought to know.

Meanwhile at church, we needed to file a Police Report to document an old iron railing that had been stolen from the property - and how pathetic is that, when people are reduced to stealing railings from churches - so I was assigned to the case and snatched up the gauntlet with gusto, and an unquenchable zeal to see justice triumph over anarchy. I'm sure everyone knows how it is when you call for the Police nowadays, and they send over some 12-year-old kid that you wouldn't trust directing traffic for the buffet line at a bar mitzvah, much less protecting the citizenry from dangerous criminals, rather than the grizzled veterans of yesteryear, who inspired as much dread as confidence in good old John Q. Public. So they sent over the 12-year-old who drew the short straw at the station, and he came over to take my statement, or rather, to stand around looking bored and put upon while not taking my statement, since this apparently was not considered a crime worthy of their attention, and he wanted to make sure that I knew it. Frankly, I don't expect the Police to care about the theft of a rusty old beat-up railing, but I can't understand what's the point of sending them to Police Academy for all that training, if they can't even pretend to care, or failing that, at least humor the victim making the complaint, instead of making them feel like just another time-wasting burden on the department's resources. Now I don't mind saying that I can take a snub just about as well as the next fellow, and I've been thrown out of better places than this, as the saying goes, but I admit that I was pretty darned close to snarling, "Listen, Sonny, I pay your salary!" But then I realized that would be taking the easy way out, and would probably make him run home crying to his mother, when I'm sure he already has things like puberty and homework to deal with, heaven knows. But I did give his name and badge number to our rampant alien mutant poison ivy, and washed my hands of the entire matter. So the next time that youngster is out on his paper route, I have to say that I frankly don't care for his chances all that much.

Elle

Safety First

Hello World,

Happy April! Thursday was the first of the new month, a day beloved by practical jokers and tricksters the world over, as April Fools Day is everyone's annual opportunity to pull their favorite pranks on a (semi) unsuspecting public, which is considerably more tolerant than usual. I admit that I was a little too busy catching up at work to prey on the gullibility of my colleagues, and no one played any tricks on me either, so we certainly did not take advantage of all the day has to offer in the way of entertainment value. However, the first was also Maundy Thursday, and of course, one wants to be careful about doing things that are too outrageous during Holy Week, heaven knows. The company where Bill works is closed on Good Friday, so I take the day off as well, and since this wasn't a week that we were doing time cards at the hospital, it made it a day that I could take off with unfettered serenity. It turned out to be a beautiful day, which has been rare enough to be a special treat around here, so either our old nemesis Comrade Mischka has turned over a new leaf (NYET!) or someone's practical joke was sabotaging the Kremlin's infernal weather machine. I'm sure we'll find out soon enough, because I already took the heaters out of the birdbaths, and I'm bracing for late freak blizzards in April, so if they don't happen, I'm thinking it would be a long Siberian winter for whoever put the whoopee cushion on the Comrade's chair.

Also in the realm of notable dates and times, probably no one remembers that this would have been the weekend of the Daylight Saving Time switch-over under the old schedule, and why would they? Well, only someone with outmoded technology that was configured to automatically adjust for DST twice a year, but now does it three weeks too late or too early, since the schedule has been changed but the old software hasn't been. This happened to me all the time with my old computer at work, which was running Windows 2000NT, and you just had to wait it out, having the wrong system time on the desktop, until the computer thought it was time to reset for DST, and catch up with the rest of humanity at long last. As practical jokes go, this one would be a long time coming, which is probably why they invented whoopee cushions in the first place. But then my old work computer died and had to be replaced with a new Dell Optiflex GX-620 running Windows XP, and I was also using a spare computer temporarily that was still using Windows98, and for the first time in recent memory, both of my monitors actually had the right time on them, right now, rather than having to wait for the software to catch up with the idea of changing over to DST three weeks late. Of course, I've been saying for years: "If they can put a man on the moon, why can't they put my computer there too?" But now all of that is behind me, and I've entered a brave new world where the time is right, the future is bright, and never is heard a discouraging word. Especially during Holy Week, heaven knows.

Speaking of work, since I was taking Friday off, there was a lot that had to happen in order for this to avoid turning into more than the usual short-week disaster, and no time for shilly-shallying, by golly. So you can imagine my displeasure at receiving notice of the Environment of Care Safety Fair on Wednesday, running all day upstairs in the Nursing Office conference room, no doubt with their usual demonstrations, displays, handouts and questionnaires. (Their motto: Be Prepared, Not Scared.) Last year, they sent around notices that said we were all invited to attend the Safety Fair, which I thought was very hospitable of them, but it turned out that when I didn't go voluntarily, they called on the phone, sent email, voice mail, and finally sent someone over to get me, so the "invitation" part of that was like being "invited" by the Mafia hitman to accept a bunch of bullets in the trunk of a car, and thanks so very much not. This time around, I knew that I simply didn't have time to waste on this kind of folderol (which was supposed to be short and sweet, but last year dragged on interminably) and I was prepared to resist attending this clambake to the very last extremity, no matter what they threw at me. It may have been an early practical joke, but I never saw that whoopee cushion coming, and the laugh was on me when the Safety Fair came and went on Wednesday, and apparently nobody cared if I put in an appearance or not, much less anyone else in my department. Since the hospital obviously no longer considers safety a priority for the employees, I'm thinking that they should probably change their motto to: Stand Alone, You're On Your Own.

While we're on the subject of public safety, we get the following from an alert reader (thanks, Bill!) long before anyone else invented this concept as a new holiday or reality TV show:

===================
and speaking of old Christmas trees, in my youth (at college), we had an apartment and kept the darn thing until the end of the school year. a wonder we didn't all go up in flames.
===================

Well, I'm thinking that would certainly have been the champ on Last Tree Standing, if there only was such a thing back then, although I have to say that I'm still not convinced that we've seen the last of these yet, and maybe not by a long shot.

Meanwhile in local news, we recently had two new stores open up right in our midst, which is unusual since the Queen City of the Sound is not renowned as a shopping Mecca by anyone in the vicinity, compared with the likes of White Plains, Yonkers or even Mount Vernon, for example. But an old abandoned soda bottling plant had been converted to a Home Depot Expo a few years ago (this was their home decorating division, sort of like Ikea) and although Bill and I wondered how they could possibly stay in business, they hung on for years before becoming a victim of the economic downturn last year. We were more surprised than anybody when it re-opened a couple of months ago as a shiny new Shop-Rite supermarket, since it's located within hailing distance of two other supermarkets on either side, one practically sharing the same parking lot. So many people showed up for the Grand Opening that the Police were called in to direct traffic, which was certainly never needed when it was the Expo, believe me, and it's just been jammed full of shoppers ever since. Bill and I went to check it out, since they had sent us a discount card in the mail as part of their Grand Opening promotions, and we hurried on over there so as not to miss out on all the fun. Not so fast! They apparently sent out the mailings a bit prematurely, and we got to the store to find the contractors still there, and the parking lot full of construction materials. At that point, it seemed to us they were a long way from being ready to open, but they announced their Grand Opening a week later, with the resulting pandemonium, and frankly, we were just as glad to miss it. We gave it another week for the excitement to die down and then tried it again, and we were suitably impressed with its size and volume of products, if not necessarily its variety, especially of the things that we were looking for. They do have an enormous produce section, plus a real bakery, Sushi Bar, deli, salad bar, Chinese take-out, and hot prepared meals that you can pick up, plus a grill where you can order hot dogs, hamburgers and heroes cooked for you, which I've never seen in a supermarket before. Bill was disappointed in their selection of routine items that we buy, and the fact that they have no self-checkouts, made him just as happy to stick with our regular store, in spite of this fancy new interloper.

And when it comes to interlopers, a special Queen City raspberry goes to the brand new Walgreens, which just opened its doors on the hallowed ground of the beloved and historic Thruway Diner, which had been sold by its owners after decades of popularity, to the anguished wailing and gnashing of teeth by a distraught public. The diner went down quick enough, but it seemed to take forever for the new store to take shape, and then it seemed to open with no fanfare at all, so that I only found out after the fact in a roundabout way that they were even open in the first place. We never seemed to have time to get over there and give it the once-over, but we finally got around to it last week, and eager to see what it had to offer. As a chain, Walgreens is not as popular around here as some different brand names, and we've been to other places where Walgreens is much more prevalent, and some of their stores are enormous, with a wide-ranging inventory. This isn't one of those, in fact, we were surprised at how small and cramped it was, considering how large the diner seemed in the same space, and we were not at all impressed with their selection of just about everything we went there for. And we've already been to other Walgreens with a much wider variety, so we consider it a failing of the local store and not the chain. We certainly found it a great disappointment, especially considering that they tore down a perfectly good diner for this, and decades of fine family dining down the tubes right along with it. And all we ended up with was a drug store, which - you should pardon the pun - are a drug on the market nowadays, and there's practically one on every corner already, not to mention, one right around the corner from the new Walgreens besides. In terms of drug stores, I might consider this new store as carrying coals to Newcastle, that is, as long as they're not hot coals, and as long as Newcastle is not in the running for Last Tree Standing with a profusion of old desiccated left-over Christmas trees about to blow up like a powder-keg. After all, public safety is our watchword here, and we stick by our motto: "Safety Rules, No April Fools." Say, who left that whoopee cushion on my chair?

Elle