Calm Down

Hello World,     Happy belated Administrative Professionals Day, to all of those many and unsung clerical super heroes out there in the wide world, who as everyone knows, are the true backbone of the American economy, bless their hearts. When I think back to all of the years upon years that I complained about the Chamber of Commerce luncheons that the hospital would send us to - with their boring speeches, interminable presentation of plaques, and stultifying proclamations - honestly, I never would have believed I would miss them so much, now that I don't have the chance to go anymore, alas. At least I have my memories to console myself with, but it's not the same without the goodie bags and the raffle prizes, heaven knows.     We can't turn our backs on April without an update on spring flowers in the local area, which are literally outdoing themselves in every way, in spite of the outrageous weather, that continues to feel more like a blustery November than the balmy breezes of spring. Across town, the profusion of buttercups has turned the church yard into a veritable carpet of sunny yellow petals that is dazzling to behold. At home, the windflowers and grape hyacinths have exploded all over the yard, while the creeping phlox is putting on a pink and lavender show all of its own. The bleeding heart is going gangbusters, and even the checkered lily has returned after its winter hiatus, and a more welcome sight would be hard to imagine. Our juvenile delinquent squirrels actually spared us some tulips for a change, scattered about the place, and even a few multi-colored parrot tulips lending an exotic touch to the flowerbeds on top of it all. We have no dogwoods, but everywhere you turn, you see them in all their finery, while our magnificent magnolia is not only a pink and white thing of beauty, but smells heavenly besides. This is the time of year that I most miss our neighbors' majestic chestnut that used to be across the street, with its billowing cascades of creamy white blossoms fluttering on every side.  It certainly has punched a huge hole in the neighborhood landscape, leaving big shoes that will never be filled, and that's a plain fact.     In other seasonal news, it's always surprising when the winter sports start their playoffs in April, when everybody knows that the trophies aren't awarded until way off in June anyway, but there you have it. On the cold front, the NHL has already disappointed the local fans in Anaheim, Colorado, Columbus, Los Angeles, Minnesota, New Jersey, Philadelphia, and Toronto, thanks not. Meanwhile, the NBA is doing the same thing in Miami, Minneapolis, Portland, and San Antonio - and not to be an alarmist, but it's only going to get worse from here, as the original 16 playoff hopefuls continue to be whittled down until there's only 2 teams left standing for the final round. For everyone else, well, let's face it, this is why they invented beer in the first place, I'm pretty sure - and not to mention, "Wait until next year!" Speaking of next year, of course, the NFL Draft is going on now, as the teams strategize their picks for most improving their rosters for the upcoming season and beyond. There was a big story in the Sports section about Jets GM Mike Maccagnan, holding a press conference where he spoke for 25 minutes, and yet, "... without actually providing a hint of his draft day intentions that could be dissected by his competition." The reporter went on to elaborate: "He was clam, almost eerily so ..." I will readily admit that I don't know the gentleman from the proverbial hole in the wall, but I feel that I can confidently state that he was not a bit "clam" in any sense of the word, eerily or otherwise, and you can quote me on that.     On the local scene, we threw caution to the wind and went back to Cariedad & Lou's for dinner, where we had been once before, and to be honest, I was not as impressed with their pasta selection as might have been hoped. This time around, I thought a safer bet might be one of their "south of the border" options, so I perused their menu for those geographic choices instead. I wasn't able to find what I was hoping for (a Mexican place that we go to has what they call a breakfast burrito with egg and cheese that I simply adore) and while they do have a variety of burritos, the waiter assured me that they didn't have anything like what I was asking for, unfortunately. I opted for a cheese quesadilla instead, which was perfectly workmanlike and adequate, but certainly did not put me in the frame of mind of cactus, caballeros, and the Rio Grande winding through the dusty desert sands of the southwest, by any means. It came with salsa and a teeny tiny cup of guacamole, but I had to ask the server for sour cream - although it turned out to be there all along. In a surprising novelty that I had never seen before, it seems that it now comes in a plastic tube, instead of a cup, so you have to squeeze it out yourself, sort of like toothpaste. What won't they think of next, I ask you. Personally, I found that it had no flavor at all, either to the improvement or detriment of the quesadilla as a whole - but then again, as we all know, there are no standards anymore, heaven knows, so it does no good to complain. But having the opportunity of taking a page out of Mike Maccagnan's playbook, I was clam, in fact, eerily so, and you can quote me on that. Elle