Three Ring Circus

Hello World, Well, so far April seems to be going completely in the wrong direction in terms of weather, and is not only getting chillier every day from the day before, but has probably been colder than the whole month of March, thanks not. I said to Bill, it's amazing how fast you can get used to sunny 70-degree weather in March, which is about as unheard of in New York as a 25-foot monster gorilla climbing on the Empire State Building. (Oh, wait a minute ..... ) Anyway, when the temperatures became more normal for the season in April - in the 50's and low 60's - it felt like we had been plunged into a deep freeze around here, and dazed folks in their tank tops and flip flops didn't know what to do with themselves, by golly. I must say that it hasn't slowed down the explosion of flowers in every corner of our yard, including a rainbow of colorful azaleas in every hue, and cascades of lavender wisteria, whose heavenly fragrance is the olfactory equivalent of the nectar of the gods, believe me. In fact, much as I like to think of myself as Wonder Woman, if there's no wisteria at the legendary Hall of the Gods in Valhalla, I can tell you right now that I'm not going, and you can quote me on that, by Odin. In other local news, the hometown faithful breathed a collective sigh of relief when their spunky Rangers made it out of the first round of the playoffs by narrowly escaping elimination in Game 6, and just barely squeezing out a win in the deciding game, or better known as a heart attack on a stick. Normally, the outcome wouldn't seem that much in doubt, since the surprising Rangers entered the playoffs as the number one seed, winning 51 games for a total of 109 points, for only the fourth time over 100 points in franchise history since 1926. They were matched up in the first round with Ottawa, playing the part of the plucky underdogs this time around, when usually they're the evil overlords that strike fear into the hearts of mere mortals. Ordinarily, the first round pits the strongest teams in each division against the woeful stragglers who just barely made it into a playoff spot to start with, and often find themselves summarily swept out of the picture in a mere four games. But I can tell you that the Rangers had their hands full with the Senators, who did not give up without a fight, and the opening series turned into a hard-fought, knock-down-drag-out battle of wills that went the full seven games, with five of them being decided by a single goal. We didn't realize until later, just how lucky the Rangers were to survive the fearsome Senators, and advance to the next round of the playoffs. History may well look back on this as the Year of the Upset in NHL playoffs, and the casualties were ghastly. The defending Stanley Cup champion Bruins, the #2 seed in the East, were eliminated by the 7th-seeded Capitals, while the best in the West, Vancouver was knocked out by the 8th place LA Kings in a scant five games. Meanwhile, the perennially unbeatable Detroit proved all too beatable for the lowly Predators, and the odds-makers' choice of the mighty Penguins were no match for their cross-state rivals in Philadelphia. So the second round is shaping up to be an interesting mix of favorites and also-rans, with the Rangers taking on the Caps, and hoping for better luck against them than the pride of Beantown, where the anguished fans can be heard wailing and gnashing their teeth for miles in every direction. (In fact, that outcome was so unexpected that when I checked Yahoo Sports after the Rangers won, I was informed that their upcoming opponent in the next round would be Boston - which may not be on a par with "Dewey Defeats Truman" as a headlining blunder, but I still thought it was pretty funny.) If the first round is any indication, I would say that this year's playoffs are not for the faint-hearted, not by any means, and in every hockey town, they'd better have a full stock of psychiatrists and anti-depressants, because they're going to need them. Of course, Wednesday was Secretary's Day all over the business world, a time to recognize the contributions of the unsung heroes and heroines of offices everywhere, and shower the administrative professionals in their midst with the glory and rewards they so richly deserve. Not so fast! At the employer of last resort where I work, I had heard nothing at all about any plans for the occasion, such as attending the Chamber of Commerce luncheon at a local country club, as they often do. I figured that with the economic climate the way it was, this would be just another victim of financial austerity, and there would be no lunch in the offing, no matter how well-deserved it might be. So I went ahead and made my own plans to take the afternoon off and enjoy myself, and my dear husband, ever the gentleman, offered to take me out to lunch in the place of my actual (rotten) employer, and he promised to not even boss me around while he was at it, which was even better. So I was all set for a special treat, and was starting to feel sorry for all of the other people who had nothing to look forward to. Once again, not so fast! Suddenly at the eleventh hour (literally) I got a call from an Executive Secretary, asking me if I was going to the luncheon. I replied: "There is no luncheon." Au contraire, she assured me. (That's French for, "What am I, chopped liver?") Apparently the usual luncheon had long since been arranged, and all the invitations had gone out, and all the RSVP's had been returned, and seemingly, every single everybody who was anybody in all four facilities had found out about it, except little old lonesome me, and I don't mind saying, oh thanks ever so very much not. At that point, I knew it was much too late for me to just show up there uninvited anyway, because they have to tell the country club way ahead of time how many people are going, so they have the right amount of meals and goodie bags for each person. But at the time, I was so annoyed that I said to Bill that I certainly didn't want to go anywhere that I wasn't wanted, and would much rather have a pleasant lunch with him instead, since he asked me and they didn't. We went to a cute little Mexican place downtown, and had a wonderful meal, followed by hot fudge sundaes at Carvel, which as Secretary's Day goes, was plenty special enough for me. And while I may not have gotten any goodie bags or raffle prizes from the Chamber of Commerce, I also didn't have to listen to a parade of boring speeches either, by golly. Last week, Bill and I went to the movies, which is unusual for us, and saw the new Three Stooges film, that may not suit every taste, but we enjoyed it a lot. In fact, it got very good reviews, and while it helps to like the original Stooges brand of comedy, I think the new movie would appeal to more than just their hard-core fans. My favorite part was when they were being hijacked by the bad guys, in a car full of 8 people and 2 guns, when suddenly the car swerved off the road and plunged head-first into a lake. As the car was sinking, and filling with water, and there was a mad scramble for the guns, you could plainly hear the calm voice of the GPS lady saying, "When possible, make a legal U-turn." Ya gotta love it! Also, for anyone who hasn't been to the movies in a while, there always seems to be something new at the theater - for instance, you can buy your tickets online, and they have a scanner to verify the QR code on your smart phone when you get there, and how cool is that. At the concession stand, they now offer a variety of flavored seasonings to enhance their popcorn, as well as more robust options such as mozzarella sticks, onion rings, fiesta poppers, and even hot dogs and French fries, of all things. We even discovered a self-serve candy dispenser where you can use your debit or movie gift card to buy your own gum balls, jelly beans, Skittles, Life Savers, SweeTarts, M&Ms, Junior Mints and the like. Even better, we love to see trailers for all of the new movies coming out for the summer season - not that we usually go see any of them - but they're always so entertaining, often more so than the actual movie itself. This year, we're looking forward to seeing "The Avengers," including that yummy Chris Hemsworth, once again as Thor, plus "Men in Black 3" since we liked the first two so much. Does this seem to be shaping up as a busy summer of blockbusters for us? In the immortal words of Curly Howard: "Soitainly!" Elle

Beat The Band

Hello World, Well, here it is, the middle of April, and already our lilacs have burst into bloom, which is a treat for the senses that nothing can match. I keep saying that everything is two weeks early, and this is how I know it's true - my parents were married on April 30, and my mom had the very first lilacs for her wedding bouquet at that time, and yet here they are in our yard, already open two weeks sooner. That's why I was so surprised when we went to the supermarket this week, and found no flats of impatiens (usually a standard of spring flowers) and only very early pansies, petunias and marigolds for our consideration. Out in the wild, all of the local flora has been so ahead of schedule with the unseasonable weather, that I just assumed that the supermarket offerings would show the same gung-ho spirit of reckless abandonment, but not so. Apparently the greenhouses have taken a page out of Paul Masson's legendary winery, and declared: "We will sell no plant before its time." I regret to say that we all find ourselves in a sadder place these days, as we bid a fond farewell to the World’s Oldest Teenager, the venerable Dick Clark, dancing off to that great bandstand in the sky at the ripe old age of 82 years young. Now that's what I call the End of an Era, which is not only putting it mildly, but an understatement of mythic proportions besides. I understand that they're going to have to discontinue New Year’s Eve now, since there’s some sort of law that you can't have that holiday without Dick Clark – or at least it seems that way for as long as the dinosaurs and I can remember. Of course, that was back when we were roaming the vast unformed land masses in the primordial ooze, and at midnight on December 31st, we would all gather around the henge and watch Dick drop a rock from a tree to usher in the new year. Ah, those were the days indeed, and we didn't have to sit through a lot of nonsense from the likes of Avril Lavigne or the Jonas Brothers just to see the year turn over on the first of January, by golly. Times have certainly changed since then, heaven knows, and not always for the better, I can tell you that. Of course, we had to watch American Bandstand in the dark back then, because fire hadn't been invented yet, which is probably why I never did learn to do the Watusi after all. But thanks to Dick Clark, the beat goes on, although it must be said that he left behind shoes that even the most colossal dinosaur would never be able to fill. In other news of an iconic nature (or perhaps that should be “ironic” instead) the heroic lumpen proletariat at the employer of last resort were more surprised than anybody last week, when the third enormous temporary boiler in the courtyard suddenly vanished from its resting place, virtually overnight and without a trace left behind it after 18 months. Alert readers may recall in the middle of October 2010 when this last arrival was trucked in behind the two temporary boilers that were already there, and left to hang out the back of the courtyard, so nothing could get in or out of the place from that point. Now, this prodigious structure had long since stopped being a trailer, and had not only put down sturdy legs instead of wheels, but also had its own serious chain link fence installed around it – and I always say, nothing spells permanence like putting up a fence around something, so we figured the handwriting was on the wall as far as how temporary this temporary boiler was actually going to be. But sure enough, on some red-letter day recently, the power lines were disconnected, the pipes were packed away, the props knocked out from under the bottom, and the whole shebang was spirited away in the night as if by magic, leaving nothing but empty courtyard in its wake, and no evidence that it had ever been there in the first place. In fact, even the fence was yanked out and rolled up, like a bad dream that we'd all rather forget. Now all that’s left clogging up the courtyard are the gigantic rusted empty burnt-out hulks of the original temporary boilers from October 2001, looking pretty darned puny and forlorn all by themselves with nothing around them. And while I can't independently corroborate this, I've heard people say that there’s an actual plan afoot to dismantle the wrecks at long last, and cart them off piece by piece, which would certainly be the end of an era, or maybe several eras, in our little corner of the world. If all that’s true, I think it’s only fitting that we should call one “Dick” and the other “Clark” in honor of their swan song in our courtyard, on their way to that great boiler graveyard in the sky. And as swan songs go, I would give it an 85 because it had a good beat and was easy to dance to. And while we're on the topic of moldy oldsters, here’s a tale of mystery and adventure from the deep recesses of Christmas past, that will either warm the cockles of your heart, or perhaps raise the hackles on the back of your neck, depending on how sensitive your cockles or hackles might be. It seems that one of the timers in the living room stopped working, which necessitated Bill moving some furniture so he could unplug the cord and address the problem. An unexpected result of this activity was uncovering what appeared to be an errant stocking present from a previous Christmas, still wrapped in holiday paper, but now also sporting the tell-tale wisps of dust and cobwebs from the dark underbelly of heavy furniture that never moves. The paper, while very jolly, in no way identified which of us was the wrapper, and which the intended yuletide recipient, so neither could lay claim to the neglected object. While normal people might throw out this suspect stowaway without so much as a second thought – perhaps even holding it away from themselves with a pair of tongs – we're made of sterner stuff, and just tore the wrapping off of it to find out what was inside. It turned out to be a candy bar, and just out of curiosity, we checked it all over for a “Best Used By” date on the package, as they all do nowadays, which would at least narrow down which past holiday it may have been from in the first place. Try as we might, we could find no hint of this information anywhere on the label, no matter how hard we looked, leading us to wonder, somewhat uneasily, if it might in fact pre-date the introduction of these regulations by the FDA, lo those many years ago, and which would certainly make it quite old indeed, even by our very relaxed standards. Of course, everyone knows that Bill is nothing if not game, and he wasn't afraid to chow down on that candy bar and face the consequences, and I'm glad to report that he lived to tell the tale, so all’s noel that ends noel, and I ought to know. Speaking of food that people might want to shy away from, we took a chance this week and had dinner at the local IHOP, and once again, lived to tell the tale. We had been avoiding the place for years, since we found it not only crowded and noisy, but too cramped for comfort, at all hours of the day and night, which turned it into more of an ordeal than a pleasure, no matter how we looked at it. But times have changed at IHOP, and they've done a lot to make themselves more accommodating, and the whole dining experience had improved dramatically. If you haven't been there for a while, you may not realize that their entire menu has expanded tremendously, not only with a wider variety of their famous pancakes, waffles and French toast, but also new options such as signature salads, classic entrees, hearty soups, enticing appetizers, and a wealth of deluxe burgers and sandwiches to suit every taste. The menu could not look better if it tried, and with so many choices, it seems almost too good to be true. Not so fast! You remember our old friends at the FDA that slapped those “sell by” labels on everything edible – well, they also decreed that restaurants have to list the calories of their meals, on the theory that informed consumers can make healthier choices, but at least at IHOP, I can tell you that’s a heart-stopping revelation that you really don't want to know about. Their most popular dishes hit the 1200 – 1800 calorie range all by themselves, without having anything to drink, or God forbid, dessert. Even their selections of salads are over 600 calories, while their Fresh Crispy Salad with Fried Chicken weighs in at a whopping 1500 calories alone. On the other hand, if counting calories is not part of your lifestyle, I'd be happy to recommend their new Cinna-Stacks pancakes with cinnamon, icing and whipped cream, which sounds like way too much of a good thing, but is remarkably tasty and a delightful change of pace. So hurry on over to IHOP and give it a try, and the President's economic advisers will be glad you did, I'm sure. Tell them Dick Clark sent you, and I don't mean our outgoing rusted empty hulks of burnt-out temporary boilers, believe me. Elle

White Elephant

Hello World, Greetings from the middle of what I hope is a very happy April for you so far. We really can't complain about the weather around here, try as we might, as it has continued to be glorious and revitalizing, day in and day out. It seems as if all growing things are at least two weeks ahead of schedule, if not more, and spring fever is a very real and present condition that cannot be ignored. Happening in the yard right now, we have tulips in earnest, putting on a show of bright reds and cheerful yellows that never fail to delight. There's also a carpet of pastel wind flowers under the sycamore, perky grape hyacinths in clusters, a veritable riot of violets scattered everywhere, and stately English wood hyacinths in bunches along the driveway and rock wall. This morning, I even saw some early wisteria, which seems impossible, but there it was, however illogical it might be. Best of all, the neighbors' dogwoods have finally burst into bloom, and always a welcome sight - although alert readers may remember one that came down in a storm and crashed into our driveway, crushing the poor ratty fence underneath it - so the display is not quite as abundant as in years past. Also early but not nearly as welcome, I actually spotted some garlic mustard springing up in a weedy patch, and this invasive interloper never travels alone, so we can look forward to more of that, and pretty darned soon at this rate, I'm thinking. Another unexpected arrival was one of our spunky bleeding hearts, whose jaunty pink blossoms are really a tonic for what ails you, that's for sure. On the local sports scene, the unsung Mets started their season off with a bang, posting a 3-0 record after completing a sweep of the dratted Braves, to the wonder of just about everybody, who had long since written them off before they even left Florida in March. On the other side of the pinstripe divide, the mighty Yankees looked anything but, when they were summarily broomed out of Tampa by the Rays, thereby losing every game of an opening series for the first time since 1998. Luckily for their legion of fans, they then went on to reel off 4 wins in a row and improve their record to a respectable 4-3 in the first week, while the junior franchise settled into a .500 rut over the next four games, but still sporting an impressive 5-2 record, which is much better than anyone could have expected under the circumstances. They may end up the season with just those 5 wins and 157 losses, but hey, at least the first week was not a total disaster anyway. On the frozen front, the surprising Rangers finished the season atop the NHL standings for the first time since 1994, making the Garden loyalists wonder if this might really be their year after all, when Lord Stanley's Cup finally comes back to The Big Apple at long last. In hockey, the playoffs are long and arduous, so the Blueshirts have their work cut out for them, and only time will tell if the Cup will overflow with champagne, or the bitter tears of their long-suffering fans once more. Of course, Sunday was Easter for much of the Christian world, with the Eastern Orthodox faithful following suit the Sunday after. We took the opportunity to visit my sister on Long Island, where the weather could not have been more spectacular, and even better, lunch at Denny's was a treat that we had been deprived of for far too long. That turned out to be everything we could have hoped, and after that, we ran some errands, which at least served the purpose of making the President's economic advisors happy, especially since one of them involved going to a gas station - and it goes without saying, YIKES!!! There were even presents, which is an Easter innovation that does not seem to have caught on with the rest of the wide world, but works for me, and included some belated birthday presents, since we hadn't seen my sister for her special day (or mine) in the middle of March. Everyone knows that I always say that a day with presents is definitely my kind of day, and this one was threatening to be overwhelmed with just about too much wonderfulness for the likes of us to withstand, although fortunately, we're made of sterner stuff. Adding even more to the wonderfulness, we topped off the day with our very favorite pizza with sesame seeds on the crust, and wrapped it all up with our resident tech maven Bill solving all of the computer problems that my sister had to throw at him. Modern technology is no match for our gadget guru, who has the strength of ten because his heart is pure. Speaking of modern technology, our new TiVo Premiere had recorded a program on February 15th, and when I watched it recently, I couldn't help but notice that it included a long and involved commercial for a newly revamped Lexus for 2013. (!!!) Mind you, this was still the middle of February, for heaven's sake, and they were already advertising cars that they wanted me to buy for the model year that was almost an entire 12 months ahead of time. Normally, I would say that was putting the proverbial go-go cart ahead of the horse power, but I'm sure we all know by now that no amount of logic will stem the tide of a relentless runaway fast-forward time warp, where people are forced to buy swimsuits in January, school supplies in May, and winter coats in August. I'm expecting the Christmas music catalogs at church any day now. But I think that Lexus has taken it to a whole new level with their 2013 models in February, and I for one, simply have to draw the line at this sort of tomfoolery. In fact, I can guarantee that I will refuse to buy a 2013 Lexus at any time during this entire year, no matter what the President's economic advisors might try to persuade me with, and that's my final word on the subject. Meanwhile at work, I was visited by a fretful coworker from another department, who was carrying a copy of a recent purchase order, that she was anxious to discuss with me. She pointed out with trembling hands that we had apparently charged her $129.00 for a bottle of White Out correction fluid, and there was no denying the validity of her complaint, since it was right there in black and white on the copy of the purchase order. It seems the department objected to the cost of this item, assuming that it would be in a much more reasonable price range, especially for something so tiny, and she hurried over for some reassurance that this egregious error would not stand. Here's what I said: "Picky, picky, picky." While it's true that our office supply vendor sells this product for $1.29 per bottle - and it was only the over-enthusiastic fingers of our buyer who inadvertently came up with the other exorbitant amount - I can tell you that $129.00 for a bottle of White Out would thrill the hearts of the President's economic advisors no end, and make a 2013 Lexus seem downright thrifty by comparison. But I see that time's a-wasting, make no mistake about it, and after all, it's already the middle of April, so I'd better hurry off and make my plans for Labor Day, pick out my party supplies for the World Series, and buy my Halloween candy right now before it's too late. But I can tell you that no matter how many mistakes I make, you can be sure that I won't be stocking up on $129.00 White Out, by golly. Elle

Holy Smoke

Hello World,

Happy, happy! This certainly has been one of the most eventful weeks of the year, no matter how you slice it, and we very nearly had to break out the week-stretcher to fit it all in. It started with Palm Sunday, which was also April Fool's Day (although I hate to say that I don't find that the fools tend to restrict themselves to only one day around here, and more's the pity, I'm sure) and which as we all know by now, is the cats' favorite Sunday of the entire church year, as they can't get enough of those fresh palms, that's for sure. Not so fast! Unfortunately, my brain was not where it needed to be last Sunday, and I dashed out of church with my coat-tails flying behind me, and left my palms in the office, placing me in the unenviable position of going home empty-handed and facing a houseful of angry, glaring felines, thanks not. Luckily, as Bill pointed out later, the cats have no smart phones or Internet access, and were thus blissfully unaware of the day's significance, and were more than satisfied to wait until Wednesday, when I was meeting the electrician at church, and picked up the errant palms while I was there, and happy to report, disaster was narrowly averted after all. So that was an April Fool's prank that I played on myself, and no thanks to my two poor addled brain cells, which I have renamed Moe and Curly for the occasion.

Of course, once we have Palm Sunday under out belts, you know that it's Holy Week in earnest - that is, except for our Easter Orthodox brethren, who are following a week behind the rest of the Christian world this time around, and celebrating their Easter not on the 8th but on the 15th instead. (They can certainly score a bunch of Easter bargains like that, believe me, and the President's economic advisers couldn't be happier if they tried.) But not content to rest on its laurels with Maundy Thursday and Good Friday, the week also included the first night of Passover on Friday as well - and which, since they are both movable feasts, is an occurrence of random alignment that happens less often than you would suppose. In many places, the schools were out, and area churches and temples were filled to bursting with the faithful taking part in the same age-old rituals since time immemorial, or at least as long as the dinosaurs, Druids and I can remember anyway. With all of the hoopla and hubbub, you couldn't help but wonder how one single week could possibly hold any more than it already has, by golly.

Once again not resting on its laurels, and as they say on late-night TV commercials: "But wait, folks, that's not all!" As incredible as it might seem, it was this very same week that the major league baseball season got underway, and around our house, any week that includes Opening Day is a good one, if only for that alone. The junior franchise in the city got off to a good start by winning their opener, behind strong pitching from their ace Johan Santana, returning to form after 19 months off the field following shoulder surgery, so that was good news on a lot of different levels for their beleaguered fans. They improved their Opening Day record to a remarkable 33-18 over the course of franchise history, which seems impossible, when you consider that their ratio of winning seasons to losing seasons is a woeful 23-28 over the same period. Meanwhile across town, the vaunted Bombers of lore and legend were losing their opening game in dramatic fashion, which is certainly not the direction they wanted to be going in, I dare say - although I think we can all agree that the first game of a 162-game season is way too early for panic. Although being that it was Holy Week, after all, some extra prayer might not have been a bad idea, and everyone knows that I always say, there's no such thing as too much prayer.

Speaking of too much of a good thing, one of the unexpected treats that Santa Claus had tucked into his sack for Christmas was a gift certificate for a nearby nail salon, where I could go for the beauty treatment of my choice, and thanks ever so, lah-dee-dah, and all that. Bill had discovered these nice helpful Russian ladies previously, when he was having problems with his nails cracking and splitting from the dry winter weather, and sought out their advice. Of course, anyone who knows me can tell you that I'm no fashionista, not by any means, and I have never made much of a fuss over my fingernails, much less my toenails, and that's putting it mildly. But I was getting to the point where just reaching my toenails was becoming too much of a challenge for me, besides not being able to see what I was doing from that distance even if I could, and a professional pedicure was starting to sound like not such a bad idea after all. So one day at the end of December, we trundled off to the salon, and gave it a try, and I don't mind saying, it was all that I could have hoped for and more. You get to relax in a massaging lounge chair, with your poor tired feet in a nice warm little whirlpool bath, and then a perky young girl comes to rub your feet with oil, smooth them with pumice, massage your legs with lotion, and then work her magic on your pitiful nails, making them look and feel like the million-dollar tootsies of a Hollywood starlet, and not some homeless vagrant. It was almost too wonderful for words, and I was sorry when she said that I should have it done every month, rather than every day, which would have been my personal preference. I had also signed up for a manicure, which was also very nice, with more oil, lotion, hot towels, massage and all the pampering a person could ask for. Since then, I've been sure to go back every month for my "mani-pedi" (see - I even know what the insiders call it now) and I couldn't be happier with the results, especially since my rough raggedy toenails don't keep tearing holes in my stockings anymore, which is worth the cost of it right there. If this is Bolshevism, then I'm all for it, and may I just say for the record, I love Mother Russia.

As an entertaining sidelight to our trip to the salon, we have learned of several new cosmetic procedures that we would not have been exposed to previously, or would have had no reason to find out anything about them. These include things like waxing and shaping, and another very interesting technique known as "threading," which somehow is used to remove unwanted hair, for instance, on the face. We've even been there when customers are having this done, so we know that it's actually happening, and not just some strange and made-up idea that nobody really uses. Apparently it's a new and exciting feature offered by the finer establishments now, and not every old ordinary garden-variety salon can boast this option in their repertoire, so it's obviously a selling point worth advertising, far and near, to the wider community and beyond. Unfortunately, here the nuances of the language tripped up the best efforts of the salon's Russian management, and when they hurried to the sign maker with their request, what they came back with was a very large and very bright neon sign hanging big as life in their plate glass window, for all the world to see, inviting the public in for what is described as "EYEBROW TRADING." Frankly, I'm not sure that could sound any less appealing than it already does, and I doubt it would seem any better in Russian, spasiba nyet. I can't even blame the sign company, as I normally would, since how the heck would they know that it should have been "threading" instead, which is a salon-specific kind of jargon that they could not be expected to understand. But I can tell you that sign really does get your attention, that's for sure, although if people do indeed show up to have their eyebrows traded, I've yet to find out about it. Personally, I'd much rather have my two addled brain cells traded than my eyebrows, and I would gladly give up Moe and Curly for two others that would be more like Bill Gates or Stephen Hawking, if you please. Of course, then we would run the risk of them arranging for the cats to have smart phones and Internet access, which might very well be responsible for the end of civilization as we know it. And I may go out with a bang, but at least I'll be going out with great looking nails, by golly.

Elle

Best In Show

Hello World,

And so here we are, right on the very brink of the last day of March, and staring down both barrels of April, and unlike February, no hope of an extra day tacked on at the end to stave off the inevitable. For once I can honestly say that March came in like a lamb and went out like a lamb, in stark contrast to the proverb of yore and decades of tradition, and there were certainly no complaints on the weather front around here, that's for sure. The ice cream truck was out every day at the hospital, and if there had only been such a thing as the Flip-Flop Truck, it would have done a land-office business in this neck of the woods, believe me. Every warm sunny day brought more dandelions popping out all over, and we even have some very early tulips open in the backyard, many weeks before they should be putting on their colorful finery. It's easy to shake our heads and bemoan the inconsistency of non-standard weather, but it's very hard to complain when it's been so wonderfully temperate all winter, however irregular that might be. Why, at this rate, we'll all be beating our snow shovels into ploughshares, like it says in the Bible, or even better, into beach chairs - and like the old spiritual says, " ... Ain't gonna study snow no more, ain't gonna study snow no more, I ain't gonna study snow no more." Hallelujah, brother!

Speaking of things that turn out differently than you expect, they've been having some rocky times in the Best Bets section of the TV listings in our local newspaper, or perhaps it's just the horoscope computer working overtime behind the scenes. Here's a review of the NBC show "Whitney," asking this musical question -

====================
Whitney and Lily begin wedding plans,
but different opinions cause a riff
====================

How delightfully melodic! It makes me wonder if this was an actual riff played on a musical instrument, or just an imaginary riff acted out on air guitar instead. In any case, it's that same old song all over again, because we all know that the spell-checker can't help substitute "rift" for "riff" for anyone who apparently doesn't know the difference. Also stumping the spell-checker is this blurb for HBO's "Enlightened" -

====================
Amy learns about a mother who is facing
the threat deportation back to Mexico
====================

One supposes they meant to insert the word "of" between the combination of "threat deportation," which certainly doesn't mean anything by itself, I can tell you that. This really wouldn't have even needed the help of modern technology, if only anyone had gone back to re-read it before printing, alas - which I realize is such a quaint anachronism nowadays that people don't even know what you're talking about if you suggest it anymore. Speaking of leaving out words, that's the only explanation I can come up with for this tortured synopsis from the NBC show "Harry's Law" -

====================
Harry must defend former prosecutor
Josh Peyton, who is accused of aiding
a kidnapping after negotiating her safe
return behind the FBI's back
====================

If you go back and read that again, but follow "kidnapping" with the word "victim," it suddenly seems to make a lot more sense, because otherwise, that's just the horoscope computer running amok with a series of actual words that have been assembled in such a way as to mean nothing at all. Next up in its entirety from the CBS show "Hawaii Five-0" is the germ of an interesting idea -

====================
The Five-0 team's investigation into the
suspicious plane crash and death of a
customs agent
====================

Unfortunately, it stops right there, and has no verbs or clauses to give this opening salvo any purpose, in spite of having a wealth of details that go absolutely nowhere. Also missing their daily dose of Grammar Pills is this description from the CBS show "Criminal Minds" -

====================
Rossi struggles with an agonizing
decision regard his ex-wife
====================

Oh how the mighty have fallen, from those halcyon days of yore, when the merest snip of a copy boy would have corrected this, without even troubling the editors to wield their mighty red pencils over it, for heaven's sake. Meanwhile, this next slip-up from BRAVO's "Mad Fashion" passes the linguistics test with flying colors, but fails the pop culture pop quiz in a big way -

====================
Chris creates a Barbie-inspired look
for the upcoming launch of Mettel's
new "So Style Barbie"
====================

Normally, I would consider a brand name to be arcane enough to let slide, but heck, after more than a half century of runaway success, you'd think that toy giant Mattel would be sufficiently well known to just about anybody - not just for doll icon Barbie, but also Hot Wheels, American Girl, Matchbox, and the entire Fisher-Price line of baby paraphernalia. (Why, even the AOL spell-checker recognizes it as a word, while it choked on "ploughshares," so that tells you something right there.) Failing a different test is the History Channel's "Top Shot" -

=====================
The prize is within reach for the four finalists,
and after another challenge leaves two marksmen,
they are pushed to the limit
=====================

I'll admit that I don't watch this program, but it seems to me that if you have four competitors, and a challenge leaves only two remaining, then those two are your finalists, and not the four that you started with. You could have four finalists if they compete together (as in a race) with only one winner among them, but if you winnow the four down to two, then there's no way that the four can be considered anything but semi-finalists, and that's, well, final. Also not making any sense is this last entry from the CBS show "Unforgettable," which suffers from an all-too-common problem -

======================
When Al's ex-partner is gunned down
and the investigation reveals that he may
have been a dirty cop, and Carrie must
figure out how to support him
======================

Once again, if they had just left off "When" at the beginning, and left everything else as is, it would have been fine. But this way starts out as a clause, in search of a sturdy sentence to latch onto, and instead finds itself high and dry, clutching at straws when the entire phrase just falls off the table with nothing to anchor the rest of the thought. Actually, the poor dangling Carrie might have been all the support needed, if the extraneous "and" had been properly removed, solving two problems at once, and providing the vital structure so sorely lacking otherwise. Well, it was certainly salad days for the horoscope computer and illiterates in the TV listings lately, that's for sure, and I don't mind saying, no end in sight. Of course, I'd just love to stay here and blather, but I just found Barbie beating her Hot Wheels into ploughshares, and unfortunately, it caused a riff, so I'd better go grab my air guitar and blow it out.

Elle