Animal Crackers

Hello World,

Happy Memorial Day weekend! I hope that you will have an opportunity to enjoy a long holiday weekend, with good weather, and above all, please get out there and take advantage of the multitude of holiday sales and promotions, on everything from A to Z, and I think some other letters that they had to borrow from languages on different planets. The President's economic advisers would thank you, I'm sure. This is one of the uncommon years that the Monday holiday actually falls on what was traditionally identified as Decoration Day, May 30, and not just the last Monday in the month, regardless of what day it is. I have to say that this will be a great advantage to the poor addled brain cells of the Flag Brigade (both of them, which I have renamed Beetle Bailey and G.I. Joe in honor of the occasion) since they won't be required to run up the colors on two different days as usual, and even more importantly, expected to remember to bring them back in again both times besides. That's getting to be just a little too much to expect out of poor Joe anymore, and it goes without saying that Beetle is just a totally lost cause.

In sports news, I see that the ghost of Affirmed was taking no chances with Animal Kingdom as a potential Triple Crown threat, and blew him out of the Preakness, without even waiting for the Belmont. The newspapers made a big deal about this being an upset, since Animal Kingdom had gone off as the 2-1 favorite, but the fact is that Shackleford led the entire Kentucky Derby field out of the gate, and all the way up to the backstretch, before Animal Kingdom came out of nowhere to run away with it in surprising fashion. Actually, Animal Kingdom was a 20-1 nobody who won the Derby to the amazement of just about everybody, including his owners, and perhaps it was unrealistic expectations that fueled the bettors' determination to make him the Preakness favorite, more for sentimental reasons than completely practical considerations. In both races, Shackleford has shown that he can run with anybody, and was certainly not the bolt-out-of-the-blue upset winner of the Preakness by any means, despite what the media would have us believe. Now that the ghost of Affirmed has already worked his evil sorcery once again, with no hope of a Triple Crown winner this year, there's no reason for him to bother influencing the next race in any way at all, so it should be a fair and untarnished contest among equals. It will be interesting to see how the two previous winners do over the longer course at the Belmont, or whether this is one of those years where three different horses win the three different races instead. People may call me an old softie, but I still think that Amare' Stoudemire of the Knicks has the elbows to go the distance.

In other sports news, the time came once again for inter-league play in baseball, and around here, that can mean only one thing - another highly charged matchup of the Big Apple franchises, for bragging rights throughout the boroughs. Anytime they get together, it's nothing but Subway Series mania all over the place, regardless of when it is during the season, or what their records are at the time. In fact, the rivalry is so fierce that one of the Amazing's loyalists on his way to the enemy camp for the game, posted this message on the Mets blog:

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Heading out to the Grand Concourse for tonight's tilt.
Will be sporting the blue and the orange.
Tell my wife and kids I love them...
=======================

As of last week, both of their records were about equal, although the 24-20 Yankees were leading the AL East, while the hapless Mets at 22-23 were in the basement in their own division, thanks not. Speaking of subways, I can tell you that the rivalry is so all-encompassing that the only connection between the #7 train to Citifield in Queens, and the #4 train to Yankee Stadium in the Bronx is at Grand Central Terminal in midtown Manhattan, so that tells you something right there. Anyway, the Mets took the opener, but then lost the next two games, which is about how their season has been going as a whole, so there's no surprise there. They will be going at it again in July, with each side looking to increase their advantage, but I won't be surprised if they end up with exactly the same won-loss record when it's all over, which is how you get to be a .500 team in the first place, and the Mets fans ought to know, believe me.

In other news, it came as a surprise to practically nobody that the world did not end last week as predicted, which may be good news or bad news, depending on your perspective. This was supposedly the brainchild of the venerable Harold Camping, whose decades worth of studying the Bible led him to this conclusion, although in fairness, it must be pointed out that he also came to this exact same conclusion in his book "1994," so his track record is not all that good to start with. Actually, the May 21 date was just for The Rapture, which is, calling the faithful to Paradise, while the rest of the Earth is plunged into political chaos, natural disasters, infrastructure catastrophes and raging epidemics. This is supposed to lead to the actual end of the physical world in October, and at that point, I'm thinking it would probably be considered good riddance to bad rubbish. Not so fast! There's apparently another whole contingent who believe that the end of the world will be in 2012 instead, with everyone from the ancient Mayans, Nostradamus, the Mormons, astrologers and numerologists hopping on board this particular cataclysmic bandwagon. And apart from the classic Mayan calendar, the prophecies of Nostradamus, the mysticism of the Mormons, and the arcane computations of specialists, there is also the hypothetical Planet Nibiru, which (if it existed) is projected to be on a collision course with the Earth next year, so we could be in for a bumpy ride ahead.
The best part of all this is the very same Harold Camping's howlingly derisive dismissal of the 2012 faction, which can only be described as the apocalyptic pot calling the doomsday kettle black, and then some. Personally, I wouldn't rule out the ghost of Affirmed chiming in on this one either.

Last Saturday was opening day at the acclaimed Shanti-Bithi bonsai nursery in Stamford, an event eagerly awaited by their ardent fans all year. Please feel free to go right ahead and visit their web site at http://www.shantibithi.com/ and see for yourself. Alert readers may recall that Bill had been pitching in at the nursery to engrave their plant tags, and while they didn't need any engraving done on Saturday, he still went in early to help out in any way that might be needed. Which this time around, involved cruising over to the neighborhood Cosi to pick up lunch for the hard-working crew, and everyone knows that you can always count on Bill to bring home the bacon, or in this case, fruit salad and hummus wraps, thank you very much. It turned out to be a big day for the small place, which overtaxed their tiny parking lot so that the staff had to park their cars at the barn down the block, in order to leave room for the customers. An added bonus was a lecture and demonstration by famed bonsai master Marco Invernizzi, which prompted the folks at the Yama Ki Bonsai Society to hold their regular monthly meeting there, and take advantage of this local stop in the course of his world travels. The nursery offers a variety of plants that can be trained into bonsai, as well as many lovely arrangements that can be bought as already finished products, and attracts a wide range of far-flung devotees and novices alike. They even have a bonsai wisteria in full flower, which at about 18 inches tall really got my attention - since ours at home has long since climbed into our towering sycamore, and now flowers all the way up from the ground to way over the top of our house, probably 50 feet in the air. I obviously know nothing about bonsai, so I don't know what the opposite of it would be, but our gargantuan wisteria would be a perfect example. Another benefit that they offer to their customers is "winter storage" for their precious bonsai, where they keep them protected and maintained in their greenhouses, and safe from the harsh winter elements, so many people came to the opening just to retrieve their own plants from storage, and welcome them back to the family garden once again. They also provide garden design services, and have a wide selection of tools, accessories, books, videos and magazines for the enthusiasts to pursue their hobby. My favorite part was the collection of tiny people, animals and structures that you can apparently add to the landscape of your bonsai display, and make it more of an actual environment, like a train layout, or perhaps just to keep your bonsai company. You know we had to take a bunch of those home, just because they were too darned cute, and not because anyone actually needs anything like that, heaven knows. I picked up two tiny pagodas and a little house, and I was going to get a small horse in honor of Animal Kingdom, but frankly, I know better than to trust the ghost of Affirmed at this point, by golly.

Elle

Calling All Angels

Hello World,

Well, I don't know about where you are, but in the local area, we just suffered through a week of the most relentlessly dreary weather, as every day dawned gray and dismal, with pelting rain and high winds, and even when it wasn't exactly chilly, it was so clammy that it felt chilly anyway. More than anything else, I felt sorry for the poor chestnut trees, who were trying their level best to put on a show of creamy white blooms in profuse clusters all over, but the inclement conditions made it impossible to appreciate the full glory of them. They would have been a sight to behold in full sun, but were never given the chance, alas. Speaking of sights, that reminds me that when we were at the Open Days house tour two weeks ago, we happened to notice that parked near our car in the lot was a white mini-van with a bra, of all things, which not only looked laughably ridiculous, but was actually so appalling that it was impossible even to laugh at. I can tell you that it was an unforgettable sight, and I mean that in the very most horrific sense of the word, believe me.

And while we're on the topic of ridiculous things, one of the special treats that I enjoyed for Mother's Day was that Bill went out early to Dunkin' Donuts, and brought me home a box full of creme-filled goodness, which didn't last long around here, and I ought to know. But he did point out that there was a big label on the box with the screaming announcement: "0 GRAMS TRANS FATS," with the implication that their donuts are some kind of health food that we can include as part of our complete and balanced diet. (AS IF!) That's like saying that arsenic exists naturally in the environment, and is not manufactured by laboratories, so it must be good for you. I will admit the immutable truth that donuts make me stupid, but hey, even I'm not falling for that one, not even pretty-please-with-a-cherry-on-top, by golly.

Meanwhile at the employer of last resort, I fielded a telephone call from the evening Pharmacy supervisor, who became frantic when the printer suddenly ran out of ink and stopped, and there was no spare print cartridge to replace it with. So he called me all in a panic and demanded to know what I was going to do about it, since he apparently held me responsible for it running out in the first place. I explained that we would need a requisition to place an order for a new cartridge, which is nothing new or outlandish, whereupon he snorted in disgust (and even through the phone, I could see his elaborate eye-rolling and hand-wringing gestures for dramatic effect) and obviously of the mind that I was the biggest obstacle to patient care that had ever been discovered in the healthcare industry since the Angel of Death traipsed through the Old Testament. "Well," he countered testily, "couldn't you at least call and see if they have it first?" Normally I would say that first we need the requisition and then we call, but I didn't want to seem even more implacable, so through gritted teeth, I said I would call first, and asked what was the cartridge number that he was looking for. "Oh, I don't know," he replied, without a trace of irony or embarrassment. Of course, everyone already knows that I'm much too polite to laugh, but here is where I hoped that he was aware that it was only my good manners that prevented me from treating him exactly the same way he had treated me, by snorting in derision and making rude comments. I guess it was a lucky thing for him that I wasn't really the Angel of Death after all.

Also at work, it seemed like overnight all the paper dispensers in the bathrooms were removed, from one end of the campus to the other, and everywhere in between, which includes numerous buildings, and countless paper dispensers, for the convenience of our patients, employees, volunteers, visitors, and anyone else who needs to use the facilities. The dispensers for toilet paper were replaced by something from our friends at Georgia-Pacific, called SofPull (and please feel free to go right ahead and visit their web site at http://www.gp.com/ in case you want to register your dissatisfaction with their product, which I would encourage you to do) and which requires a strangely configured proprietary roll of paper, that is complicated to use and prone to malfunction on a regular basis. Of course, everyone complained about them, long and loud, not that it does any good at the hospital, heaven knows, where complaints are more than just expected, they're a way of life. I happened to be in the ladies room with Jean, our irrepressible bookkeeper, who observed that no matter how you fight with the thing, it still doesn't give you any more paper than it's prepared to give you to start with. She shrugged and then added: "I think they're saving money," as if to find at least a silver lining hidden somewhere in the whole situation. Au contraire, I declared derisively. (That's French for "They call me MISTER Angel of Death, buddy!") I said that's only because people have given up on the bathrooms altogether, they just go outside and pee in the bushes. She laughed.

On the other hand, no laughing matter is our local newspaper, whose unwary readers need to have a strong stomach to get through it in one piece, without resorting to violence, or copious amounts of alcohol, or both. This headline speaks for itself, or rather, it would, if only it understood English:

==================
Hope, desire for change
rein as Haiti picks leader
==================

Of course, the spell-checker is not going to help you choose "reign" over "rein," if you don't already know which is the right one in this context, which apparently the headlines writers didn't. Perhaps they had the Kentucky Derby on their minds, and had a mental picture of Haiti's voters taking the reins of change into their own hands, driving their country down the backstretch of opportunity to the finish line of prosperity, and beyond. Personally, I would send that whole headline back to the stable of ineptitude and leave it there, not to mention, locking the barn door behind it. It was another holiday for the spell-checker in this next item about the NBA playoffs from the Sports section:

====================
Marc Gasol and the
eighth-seeded Grizzlies are
verge of sending Tim Duncan
and the top-seeded Spurs
to the golf course.
====================

No, the spell-checker can't supply the missing words to rescue "verge" from, well, the verge, when "on the verge" is called for instead. This is where proofreading once came in so handy, since it would be a simple thing to spot where the words are missing and fill them in. You can go look it up, it's an actual word, although archaic now, but it used to be quite prevalent, one might almost say, inescapable, back in the old days, alas.

They fared no better in the Life & Style section, in a note about exotic cuisine, although I don't blame the newspaper for this one:

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Two of Rockland's best chefs, Doug Nguyen and Peter X. Kelly,
are combining talents in a two-part dinner series called
"The Raw and The Cooked." Dine on raw dishes such as
scallop ceviche and beer tartare at a dinner April 6 at Wasabi
in Nyack, then head to Restaurant X in Congers on April 27 for
cooked dishes such as quail and pork belly.
=======================

Now, I admit that I'm no galloping gourmet, and I don't even play one on television. But could someone please explain to me how this in any way represents what they describe as a "two-part dinner series?" I mean, they're not only in two separate restaurants in two completely different cities, for heaven's sake, but they're three weeks apart besides. This is where the pop commentator Jon Stewart would be asking: "Wha - wha - wha - WHA - ???" and I don't blame him one bit. You may as well say that professional football and major league baseball are teaming up for a two-part sports series called "The Luau and The Gator," where the NFL plays the Pro Bowl in Hawaii in January, and then three weeks later, the baseball players report to their spring training camps in Florida. Heck, by that reasoning, any two events, no matter how dissimilar or disconnected in time or place, could be considered a two-part series, as long as you come up with a snappy name for it. Mother's Day and the Indy 500 could be "The Lady and The Track." Income tax day and the last day of school could be "The Agony and The Ecstasy." Arbor Day and the Pink Panther could be "The Trowel and The Pussycat," while Election Day and both sides of Daylight Saving Time could be "The Good, The Bad and The Ugly," and I leave to you to decide which is which. Oh, I could go on and on like this all day, and be drunk with the power of the pen, or should I say, The High and The Mighty. (Get it?!) Of course, everyone knows that puns can be a double-edged sword, especially in the wrong hands, where an avocado clock could easily be considered The Pit and The Pendulum. And speaking of double-edged swords in the wrong hands, who let the Angel of Death in here?

Elle

War Horse

Hello World,

Well, for all those people afraid of Friday the 13th, they have reason to be glad that this month has the only one this entire year, to get it out of the way and move on with their lives. There will only be one Friday the 13th in any year that starts on a Saturday, as 2011 did, whether it's a Leap Year or not, unlike other years, where there may be two or three during the year. For instance, any year that begins on a Thursday, like 2009, will have three months where the 13th is on a Friday, regardless of whether or not it's a Leap Year. So if you didn't already have any bad luck this year, you should be in the clear, and better days ahead. Speaking of better days ahead, more and more of everything is bursting into bloom, and a more welcome sight would be hard to imagine. Our front yard is a shimmering carpet of English wood hyacinths, while on the top walk, it's the giant allium stealing the show. The azalea and spirea have decked themselves in their showiest blossoms, but nothing can match the return of the exquisite lilac, with its heavenly fragrance worth waiting for, and often imitated but never equaled. I even saw an errant buttercup pop up on the lawn, in spite of the relentless ministrations of the landscapers, but I'm afraid they were too much for our lamium, primrose and pachysandra, where we traded in their jaunty flowers for the sake of neatness, and not necessarily an improvement, I can tell you that.

Anyone who watched the Kentucky Derby last week can tell you that it was a crackerjack finish, and as the first one out of the gate in the series, it was a true gem worthy of the Triple Crown. To the consternation of the odds-makers, it was the 20-1 shot, Animal Kingdom, who seemingly came out of nowhere to win handily by several lengths over a crowded field. And for an unheralded colt with no expectations, made it look easy, and could have kept right on running, if the race wasn't already over. The feel-good story of the day was the peculiar coincidence of the winning jockey, John Velazquez, whose hopes of Derby glory were dashed when he lost his original mount, as the favorite Uncle ("Keb") Mo was scratched with a stomach ailment just before the big race. All of the other horses were already taken, when suddenly another jockey was injured in an accident, and all at once, Animal Kingdom needed a new rider - and the rest, as they say, is history. Well, actually, it's a fairy tale, because if this was the NCAA Tournament, they would call this a Cinderella story, and they'd be right, even though there's not a basketball anywhere to be seen. Animal Kingdom seems to have a lot going for him in the upcoming Preakness, and even the longer length of the Belmont could be within his range, so a new Triple Crown winner might not be impossible after all this time. Personally, I wouldn't trust the ghost of Affirmed, whose malevolent spirit from the beyond has doomed the chances of countless hopefuls over the years, from Big Brown to War Emblem, without exception or favoritism. So I wish Animal Kingdom a lot of luck, because even if he can beat all the other horses on the track, he's still going to have to somehow hold off the ghost of Affirmed, and frankly, I don't care for his chances all that much.

Of course, last Sunday was Mother's Day, a time to honor all of the maternal figures in our lives, and it goes without saying, long may they wave. Around here, I can always count on the cats to come through for the occasion, and this no exception, as I expect to be set for life in the realms of catnip mice, Fancy Feast and hairballs, by golly. Actually, the cats generally defer to Bill's more refined taste in gift options, and so I expect that he's to thank for the lovely jewelry, flowers, candy, DVDs and tech gadgets, and not a catnip mouse anywhere in sight. Sunday was a beautiful day, so I hope that all of the mothers were able to get out and enjoy their special day. Our plan was to get a jump on the holiday, so we started on Saturday by hopping on board the Open Days bandwagon, presented by the Garden Conservancy (and please feel free to go right ahead and visit their web site at www.gardenconservancy.org and see for yourself) and awaited eagerly by horticultural enthusiasts all year. This is a program that invites the public on selected weekends to experience the luxurious private gardens at local estates, which unlike community parks, are not usually open to visitors. We went to the secluded property of a former Wall Street tycoon, a lush retreat of 55 rolling acres, lovingly transformed into a botanical wonderland by the landscape designers at the acclaimed Shanti-Bithi Nursery, and a treat for all five senses, everywhere you go. There are over 350 varieties of maples in their expansive Maple Garden, breathtaking vistas of tulips and daffodils in wild profusion along the walks, and just about every ornamental shrub or flowering tree that you can think of, and many that you'd never be able to think of. The entire property is awash with more creeks, streams, waterfalls, puddles, ponds and lakes than you could ever imagine, plus an abundance of bridges running the gamut from stone to wood to earth to concrete to moss, and even a whimsical rope bridge that Bill and I forswore as being way too precarious for our tastes. An additional attraction is the collection of exotic animals, including camels, zebras, flamingos, llamas, tortoises, emus, monkeys and more, plus an entire aviary of unusual birds and waterfowl. Bill had been engaged by Shanti-Bithi to engrave the identification tags for the plants, so we were invited to attend as part of the staff, and not the general public. As a result, we had an opportunity to join the rest of the crew for lunch at the house, and also got a chance to peek at the newborn serval cats, baby bunnies and turkey chicks in the barn, that was off-limits to the ordinary visitors. It was certainly an unforgettable adventure full of wonder and surprises, and an early Mother's Day treat that anyone would have enjoyed, mother or not, and I ought to know.

Bill and I did the most perfect thing on Thursday, we went to see the new movie "Thor" at the local cinema. By "perfect," of course I mean that Thursday is named after the Norse God of War, Thor, in the same way that Wednesday is named after his father, Odin. Back in the days that I was a young whipper-snapper (this would have been when the dinosaurs were roaming the vast unformed land masses amongst the primordial ooze) Thor was far and away my favorite comic book character, and I scooped them up as fast as my allowance would permit. Obviously, this was way before the advent of what are now called "graphic novels," and deservedly so, with their gritty realism, dark narrative, excessive violence and price tags to match. No, in those bygone halcyon days, a comic book was a simple joy, costing a mere dime or 12 cents, and to pay a whopping 25 cents on a double-issue was considered an extravagance for only the most reckless spendthrifts. Of course, much has changed over the years, and not always for the better, I can tell you that, and many favorite old super heroes have been so drastically altered as to be unrecognizable to their former fans. I wasn't expecting to care much for this newfangled live-action Thor, but I thought it might be interesting to see anyway, so off we trotted to the nearby New Roc entertainment complex, where the movie was playing in several theaters, including the IMAX 3-D version. Even without any visual enhancements, the showing set us back over $20, plus another $20 at the concession stand, so this could in no way be considered a cheap date, at least by the previous definition of the term. [Please see note above concerning dinosaurs and primordial ooze.] We were pleasantly surprised at the film (not $40 dollars worth, perhaps, but still) and thought it was very well done and entertaining throughout. It never lagged, and many of the special effects were stunning. The cast was eclectic, although not distractingly so, and Chris Hemsworth as the title character was surprisingly satisfactory. One standout feature of the story was the almost complete lack of dialogue banalities that plague most science-fiction movies like a contagious disease, so that even the most critical scenes become almost farcical to watch. As a whole, it had much to recommend it, and we were glad that we went. In the film industry vernacular, I would wish that the movie had good "legs," but I'm afraid that's all it would take to summon the ghost of Affirmed, and suddenly the Norse God of War would be turned into the Norse God of War Emblem all over again, by golly.

Elle

Punch Line

Hello World,

A very (belated) feliz Cinco de Mayo to you, amigos! Thursday was the day for all of us to (virtually) toss off the yoke of oppression and kick the Napoleonic forces to the curb, to the clatter of castanets and plenty of tequila, por favor. I find that native New Yorkers don't need any excuse for a party, and are just as happy to jump on the Cinco de Mayo bandwagon, whereas people of other cultures tend to balk at the idea, using the rationale of "I'm not Mexican" as if it were some sort of a shield that would prevent them from having a good time that they felt they were not entitled to, by accident of where they were born. Heck, I think even the Holiday Police would give everyone leave to be an honorary Mexican on May 5th, so they could enjoy all the hijinks and hoopla the day has to offer. Not so fast! While you would think that a holiday named after a specific day would be the last thing in the world to be a movable feast, the reality is very far from the case. Our local newspaper made a point to encourage us to check out their online calendar for Cinco de Mayo events all over their coverage area, beginning on May 6 and continuing throughout the weekend. To my mind, that's a Mexican horse of a different Mariachi color, by golly, and would have surprised the heck out of Napoleon's army, who sat around and waited for two or three days just to get routed at the Battle of the Puebla that was supposed to happen on the 5th of May. Under the circumstances, probably even the Holiday Police would have to side with the beleaguered French on that one, La Cucaracha or not.

On the local weather scene, this turned out to be the week that the indigenous maple trees exploded into bloom, transforming everything near them to bright green, and not any sort of an improvement, I can tell you that. Every year around this time, I find myself driving what can only be described as an unsightly green fuzz-mobile, where I can't see out any of the windows for all of the maple tree effluvia that's stuck to it. Well, it only took my entire life, but I can now say that I finally wised up, and when I came home, I parked the car away from where the street was already green, into the clear area that was apparently out of the maple zone, so I wouldn't come out to more of that stuck on the car the next day, thanks not. Also the parking lot at work is fringed with alternating pine and maple trees, so you notice that every other space is bright green, and it finally dawned on me to park in the one that isn't, and avoid even more of that being stuck to the car during the day as well. So it was actually a simple thing to solve that entire problem at a stroke, and just goes to prove, I guess, that you can teach an old dog new tricks, although frankly I don't think they should let dogs drive in the first place.

I don't know about anyone else, but it seems to me that the 137th running of the fabled Kentucky Derby snuck up on us, sort of out of nowhere with little or no fanfare, being this weekend already. There were so many horses entered that they had to eliminate two of them from the field, since apparently they don't have a "track stretcher" at Churchill Downs so they accommodate more than 20 horses at a time. As it is, they're going to be running without the favorite, a horse named Keb Mo (or something like that anyway) who had been tearing up the tracks up to this point, but fell ill just before his big moment in the spotlight. This would be a good break for the second favorite, one supposes, and of course, we can't rule out the 20-1 shot, Twice the Appeal, with media darling Calvin Borel aboard. Personally, my money's on the Knicks, with the Rangers coming in a close second, and I wouldn't turn my back on the Pittsburgh Steelers either. After all, the thoroughbreds are only used to running against other horses, they have had no experience competing with Amar'e Stoudemire's lethal elbows, by golly.

After the hospital developed new rules for the use of time clocks, I found it helpful to have an alarm in my Palm set at 9:00 AM to "punch in," and another one at 5:00 PM to "punch out." Somehow when I was using the stylus to enter the information for the alarms, I accidentally typed in "jn" instead of "in," and the same error was duplicated for all of the alarms for the whole month. The consultant who has been taking up space in our spare office all year has the initials "JN," and I don't mind saying, has long since worn out his welcome, and in spades, so every morning when the alarm goes off and reminds me to "Punch jn," I can't help but think that sounds like a pretty good idea. Although when it comes to people to be punched, I have to admit that I don't need an alarm to give me any ideas, because I already have a list.

Speaking of work, between taking off Good Friday, and the Monday after Easter, it turned into two short weeks in a row for me, and trying to catch up after that was no joke, believe me. Everyone knows that I always say that it's the short weeks that are the longest, and this no exception, with one right after the other besides. As if that wasn't bad enough, there was the Secretary's Day luncheon on the Wednesday after Easter, which punched another hole in my day, in what was already a short week as it was, so I despaired of ever getting back on track. Mind you, I certainly don't want to complain, since we're lucky just to be invited to the luncheon in this economy, and it's great to go to a lovely country club, where we can have lots of fun and goodie bags, plus the usual raffle prizes. Of course, there were the requisite boring speeches by local dignitaries, as well as awards, plaques and commendations to be presented to deserving individuals and organizations, but it helps that all of this is offset by a nice meal including ice cream and coffee, which this time around, was served in peppy style with no lagging, unlike usually, when half the people give up and leave before they finally get around to serving dessert. And while I didn't win anything as usual, at least I didn't jinx the whole table, as they won some nice prizes from local merchants, and glad of it, I'm sure. So it turned out to be another wonderful luncheon, and beautiful weather, which only goes to prove that even the weather trolls don't dare rain on the secretaries.

Alert readers may remember that it was in March that we bid a fond farewell to our beloved princess GingerSnap after 13 years in the family, which had the result that we were left with only the little invisible Potfourri as our last remaining female in a houseful of tom cats. At the time, I remarked that she was going to have some pretty big shoes to fill, because GingerSnap was a very special cat in many ways, apart from just longevity. Unfortunately, it turned out that our little Miss Potfourri, her own invisible self, was not equal to the task, as she breathed her last on Wednesday, not even seven weeks since GingerSnap preceded her. That closes the chapter on the whole invisible clan, as she was the last of the five of them, and they all went one after another in a space of two years. So we find ourselves down to the ragtag remnant, and all of them boys, and nothing cute or frilly about the lot of them. But at least they have the advantage that there is nothing invisible about them either, which is a nice change of pace, except for when they have to run in between my feet on the stairs, when a little bit of invisibility might not be such a bad thing, after all. I suppose I should be grateful that they don't have Amar'e Stoudemire's lethal elbows, and they don't turn everything bright green like the maple trees, on top of their other less appealing characteristics. Now this is normally where I'd like to get a jump on things and wish everyone a very early happy Ocho de Mayo (if only there was such a thing) but my alarm just went off and I have to go punch the consultant.

Elle

Johnny On The Spot

Hello World,

Happy May! Sunday will be the first day of the new month, and how April has flown right by - and I don't mind saying, with no improvement in the weather - is just astonishing. Of course, Easter was just about as late as it can be (in fact, so late that it coincided with Greek Orthodox Easter this year, rather than them lagging behind as they usually do) and after that, the whole month was just about over and nothing left for the April hold-outs to grab onto. On the other hand, because May starts on a Sunday, it means that Mother's Day would be the earliest that you can have it, next week on the 8th, which I am pointing out as a public service to the general populace who may be considerably under-prepared for Mom's big day, basically right around the corner and will be here way before you know it. Also on the early side, I noticed the jolly faces of violets all over the yard, all dressed up in deep purple, pale lavender or creamy white everywhere you look. Just as the magnolias are starting to fade, you can count on the dogwoods to pop open, and always a sight to behold. Anyone can tell you that it's not too early for dandelions, not by any means, even if your gardeners have eradicated them from your yard, they're still a sunny yellow presence in vacant lots and other neglected areas. Everyone else may not know, but I can tell you that it's also not too early for rampant mutant alien poison ivy, thanks not, which I found out the hard way when I was taking pictures of tulips and daffodils in the flower beds, and realized later that I had gotten a patch of poison ivy on my ankle, that was probably the earliest that's ever happened. I'm thinking this just goes to prove that it's not Greek Orthodox poison ivy, I guess.

Speaking of Easter, we were glad to welcome the Easter Bunny with his baskets full of treats, and he came through with the goods, including jewelry, DVDs, scented candles, candy, personal care items, and some healthy organic items that can be indulged in without guilt. In fact, one of them was actually green-apple-flavored edible Easter grass, from our friends at Galerie in Kentucky, although they tell me that it's actually made in Germany, of all places. (Please feel free to go right ahead and visit their website at http://www.galerieusa.com/ and see for yourself.) It's certainly edible, that much is true, although not much of a treat as edible things go, but a big improvement over regular plastic Easter grass, at least in terms of eating it. My favorite part is that they go to all the trouble to put Nutrition Facts on the package, although all of them are zero except for fiber (1%) but it will set you back 100 calories if you eat the whole package. (I dare you!) It must be said that the weather forecast was less than promising when we left home on the next leg of our Easter adventures, but it soon cleared up and turned into a beautiful day. In fact, they could not have asked for better weather for the 56th Annual Easter Vintage Car Parade in Garden City (and here again, you're invited to visit their website at http://www.gardencitychamber.org/ and see for yourself) presented by the Chamber of Commerce, and well worth the trip. It seemed like hundreds of wonderful vehicles of all types, from the 1890's to the recent past, were all arrayed in the parking lots behind the parade route, so that people could have a chance to see them all and meet the owners before the parade started. They were all so shiny and beautiful, and many decked out in their Easter finery, with bunnies, bonnets, carrots and other decorations on cars and drivers alike. The parade was fun and well-organized, as the pride of automotive excellence took to the streets to thrill the enthusiastic spectators lining both sides. By the time it was over, we were more than ready for lunch at Denny's in Levittown, and since we got there later than we expected, we missed the holiday lunch rush, and pretty much had the place to ourselves. I would say that this was a non-traditional sort of Easter, but after all, they've been having this car parade now for 56 years, so I guess that's as traditional as anything else at this point, by golly.

Other notable events of recent vintage would be both the Knicks and Rangers being eliminated from the first round of the playoffs, thanks not, with the Knicks getting the worst of it, by being swept out by the Celtics in lopsided games in spite of Carmelo Anthony - and who probably has no idea of either Ralph Kiner or the legendary Branch Rickey, but it's really true that "we could have done that without you, Ralph." In baseball, the Yankees have improved to 15-9, while the surprising Cleveland Indians, Colorado Rockies and dratted Phillies are leading their divisions with impressive 18-8 records already. Seattle has finally managed to turn it around, climbing to a respectable 13-15 from a woeful start, while even the Red Sox and hapless Mets have improved to 11-15, which is no mean feat from where they were. Now it's the poor Padres and Twins at 9-17 sharing the worst record in baseball, but I advise the hometown fans against panic because at this point in the season, anything can happen, and usually does.

And while we're on the topic of anything that can happen, we've been notified by the hospital administration that the episode of Law & Order: Criminal Intent that was filmed at our facility is to be titled "Cadaver," and showcases our new DaVinci robotic surgery system as part of the plot. It is expected to be the 5th or 6th episode of the new season which begins this week, so please be sure to be on the lookout for that, or even better, have your DVR set up to record it when it airs, and take the worry out of possibly missing some great (local) moments in television history. After all, we wouldn't want the President's secretary to have been unceremoniously tossed out of her own office for nothing.

Alert readers may recall a few weeks ago when I was at a meeting and the term "John Henry" was used to refer to signing a document, making me wonder what that ever-lovin' "steel-drivin' man, Lord, Lord" had to do with anyone's signature, compared to, say, John Hancock, who I considered the poster child for that particular reference. Well, as everyone knows, I'm always happy to set the record straight - or perhaps, "muddy the waters" might be the more apt expression in this case - as we have our research maven, Bill, and his quest for pinpoint accuracy, to thank for the following:

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WIkipedia's John Henry disambiguation page says this:

"One's 'John Henry' - formal signature referred to in ironic comparison to John Hancock's famously florid and consequential signature"

But if you dig a little deeper, there's this interesting post.

I think "John Henry" as a phrase meaning signature is simply a mistake. People get their Johns mixed up. But I'll check further and see if there's more to it than that.

I stand corrected...

JOHN HENRY/JOHN HANCOCK - "As every schoolboy knows, the biggest, boldest and most defiant signature on the Declaration of Independence was scrawled by John Hancock of Massachusetts. So completely did it overshadow the autographs of the other founding fathers that the term 'John Hancock' has become synonymous with 'signature' and each of us at the one time or another has spoken of "putting his 'John Hancock' " at the bottom of a document. In the West, a half century and more later, the phrase became altered to 'John Henry,' and nobody knows quite why. Suffice it that, in the words of Ramon Adams's excellent collection of cowboy jargon, 'Western Words': "John Henry is what the cowboy calls his signature. He never signs a document, he puts his 'John Henry' to it!" Incidentally, there seems to be no connection between the John Henry of cowboy slang and the fabulous John Henry of railroad lore, who was so powerful that he could outdrive a steam drill with his hammer and steel. This legend has been traced to the drilling of the Chesapeake and Ohio Big Tunnel through West Virginia in the 1870s - substantially later than the first use of John Henry by cowpokes of the Old West." From "Morris Dictionary of Word and Phrase Origins" by William and Mary Morris (HarperCollins, New York, 1977, 1988).

[This final clarification is from our friends across the pond: http://www.phrases.org.uk/bulletin_board/10/messages/147.html ]
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And so there you have it, signature fans, and we all (or at least I) stand corrected for casting aspersions on people using a perfectly acceptable alternative to the John Hancock idiom, which obviously has stood the test of time and needs no defense from me. So thanks to Bill and wikipedia and the phrases folks for clearing that up, to the extent that it's possible to clear it up, and we are all better for having learned something new today, I'm sure. Now I see that it's just about time for me to be fixin' to mosey off and punch some cattle afore I ride off into the sunset, so here I'll just put my -

John Henry