Tell me a story

Artifact

2010-03-08T22:10:00.001-06:00

I thought I had unearthed every morsel of my childhood diary-writing days, but there was one more gem hiding in a notebook behind some old school reports.

I think this is from seventh grade. It is addressed to the members of Psychotic People Who Write in Diaries, which at that point consisted of myself, Sara, Leslie and Rachel.

P.P.W.W.D. Members,

As you all know we are planning to have a party as soon as possible. Because of this fact Sara and I are putting this newsletter out to inform you of what is being planned. First of all, anything we do will have to wait until Erin's parents go to bed. But after that we have the whole night. Now we'll decide what order we're going to do all this that night, with the exception of this. Rachel must be united into the uniting group as soon as Erin's parents go to bed. Otherwise she would be an outsider. After that's out of the way we're able to do any number of things. One of the things we'll be doing is having confession. Now just to make this clear no confession can be confessed twice. After the night the confession was made it's in the past, hopefully never to be dug up again. That's the point of confession, to put bad things that we have done or that has been done to us in the past so they won't torment us, and make us worry anymore.

Another thing we will be doing is having an annoying session. Now things that you have said annoyed you in the past can be repeated but only if it can be changed. If it's something like, "I hate the way your mother says sorry" or something don't mention because it won't do anyone any good.

We will also be going on THE GREAT TAPE SEARCH. Erin's mother found our tape of many important things. Things we really don't want to lose forever. I must say I don't want be deprived of seeing Erin and Sara singing, "Hum Hum Hum. Hum Hum Hum. Hum Hum Hum Hum Hum." with their own lyrics.

We are going to do something new in honor of Rachel as our newest member of our little group. We are going to tell each other what we feel is their best feature. Then it is your choice if you want to hear your worst. I personally would suggest hearing you worst. It will make things more interesting and then you'll know what to try to hide.

We are also going to watch Silence of the Lambs. Because Rachel's never seen it, we love it, and we haven't had a party yet where we didn't. We have to watch it in the dark and we have to watch the whole thing with no huge stops.

We are also going to make a ougji board and see if we can get a somewhat intellegent spirit. Sara and I have done some ghost research and we might go ghost hunting too.

This concludes our newsletter.

P.P.W.W.D. FOREVER!!!!!!!!

The trip: Part 14 (Back to London)

2010-01-31T22:22:00.000-06:00

Day 14
Our time in Paris was too short, but we were excited to continue the adventure. So we said goodbye to Ile Saint-Louis and hopped on the train to London.

The Chunnel is an amazing system. It was so fast and convenient. We went through Customs at Gare du Nord, took a little snooze through the tunnel and woke up in London.

We had to walk all over Kensington looking for our hotel, especially after a well-meaning Londoner pointed us in the opposite direction.

The first thing we wanted to do was return to the Houses of Parliament. We realized that we had not gotten a photo of us in front of Big Ben, which seemed like a real necessity on any trip to London.

Our next stop was Westminster Abbey. We were famished by that point, but inexplicably there were no restaurants or shops anywhere near the Abbey. We wound up buying gigantic bags of crisps from the snack cart outside. Surprisingly satisfying.

No photography is allowed inside the Abbey, which is a bummer because the place is really impressive and filled with artwork and the graves of various amazing people, such as Elizabeth I, Geoffrey Chaucer, Charles Dickens, Samuel Johnson, Isaac Newton and Charles Darwin.

We did manage to snag one photo in the cloisters.

We ate the rest of our crisps on the walk over to Buckingham Palace. We didn't especially want to go in (and we were too late), but we thought we might as well stop by. The Union flag flying out front supposedly means Her Majesty wasn't in there anyway.

We saw these guys out front and thought, "We should've done that!"

It started to rain while we were on our way to Trafalgar Square. It was a really neat area, but we didn't hang around long. We just ducked into the National Gallery portico and snapped a photo or two.

We ate dinner at Pizza Express, which we'd been wanting to try since we got there. It's a pizza chain with white tablecloths and wine glasses. And it was my idea of the perfect pizza. And the salad, wine and dessert were also fabulous.

To make the most of our last night in London, we hit the West End to see "La Cage aux Folles." And the fabulosity continued! So fun, great musical numbers, surrounded by gays — what could be better?

Day 15
We had to get up pre-dawn to make our flight, and we felt like we were making good time when we got on the Tube. There was just one problem. Heathrow is really big. In fact, it has three Tube stops. So, um, which one should we take?

See, it would have been super if there were a poster in the train listing the airlines and terminals. But the only poster in the train said that you had to call Heathrow to find out your terminal. And you couldn't call from the train. How convenient.

We decided to follow the lead of another American couple who were on their way home. They were wrong. We wound up at a terminal so far away from the one we needed that we had to take another train back to it. We had a few tense moments as we waited and waited for the train to move. But we eventually made the flight, narrowly.

The flight itself was uneventful. Except for getting to see Greenland.

So that was the trip. It was an unbelievable trip.

The trip: Part 13 (More Paris)

2010-01-19T22:16:00.000-06:00

Day 13
We headed out early and stopped for a croissant and café crème at a little cafe near our hotel. We sat outside next to two other American women who had apparently come to that cafe every morning that week and ordered Coke for breakfast. How embarrassing.

Our first stop was Pere Lachaise Cemetery, the largest in the city and supposedly the most-visited in the world. It was old and atmospheric and lovely, with big above-ground tombs and cobblestone paths.

Among the famous buried there are Frederic Chopin:

Jim Morrison:

Marcel Proust:

And the one we really came to see, Oscar Wilde:

Those are kiss prints. We unfortunately forgot to bring our lipstick.

The epitaph on the back of the monument is from his “Ballad of Reading Gaol”:

And alien tears will fill for him
Pity’s long-broken urn,
For his mourners will be outcast men,
And outcasts always mourn.

Then we headed for the Eiffel Tower. We stopped in a little shop and bought some pastry/sandwich things and had a delicious picnic on a park bench.

The crowd at the tower was unbelievable. We had thought about going up in it, but when we saw this line? No.

But the tower itself was very beautiful, and bigger than I expected. Unfortunately, the area around it is full of souvenir vultures. We were accosted dozens of times by men selling plastic Eiffel Tower figurines and keychains. It was much more pleasant from a bit of a distance.

We were doing really well on time, so we hopped on the train to Versailles!

Holy crap, it was huge! It was like its own little city. And everything was gilt.

It made Hampton Court look like a hunting lodge. This is Marie Antoinette’s bed:

We rode the train back to Paris and headed back to Ile Saint-Louis for the famous Berthillon ice cream. On the way, though, we passed by Shakespeare and Co.

And a very gothic-looking Notre Dame.

The ice cream was fantastic. As we were eating our cones, we wandered over to a cute little neighborhood greengrocer. We were admiring the fruits and veg when the grocer lady came over and said, “Pardon!” and gestured gravely at a microscopic drip of ice cream that had escaped from our cones onto the floor. We were duly shamed and wiped up the drip with a napkin and made a quick exit. While clucking about the bitchiness of French shopkeepers.

We ate dinner at a little restaurant directly across from Notre Dame. We had French onion soup and pasta.

Then we walked back to the Eiffel Tower to see the night view. We were met with a gigantic crowd being held back by a dozen police officers. But we couldn’t figure out what the heck was going on. So we just stood there in the crowd, waiting for something to happen. Anyway, it looked neat.

We were just turning to leave when a gasp went up from the crowd, and we turned around to see the tower twinkling and flashing. Fun. Still not sure what the cops were doing.

Then we walked over to the Arc de Triomphe. As we were walking, a guy came up from the Metro and asked me directions in French. I mumbled an apologetic “je ne sais pas” and kept walking. So then we tried to figure out what he had just asked us.

Me: “I thought he said something about trois.”

Kim: “A stranger wouldn’t usually use toi to someone on the street.”

Me: “Not toi. Trois.”

Kim: “Oh, trois!”

And we were giggling about this when the guy came up behind us and passed by, saying something that indicated he had figured it out. No thanks to us.

Then we risked our lives by dashing through traffic at the Arc de Triomphe, and strolled down the Champs-Élysées on our way back to the hotel.

The trip: Part 12 (Paris)

2009-12-31T13:13:00.001-06:00

Ahem, so, where was I?

Day 12
We woke up in the glorious hotel to room-service breakfast, which we again enjoyed on our balcony. It was a fitting goodbye to Greece.

After another long, sweaty subway ride, we were almost late for our flight to Paris. But we made it.

When we arrived in Paris, we took the train to Gare du Nord, which was near our hotel, the Ermitage. (Remember? The one we booked on Expedia while we were in Santorini?) Kim had written out the Ermitage address from our guide book, and we handed it to a cab driver outside the train station.

The cab dropped us off in a charming little neighborhood with wonderful old buildings with wrought-iron balconies. We opened the hotel door and were greeted by a giant ceramic dog. "I like this place," I said.

We went inside and met the proprietors, a little old French couple. The wife was obviously in charge. She pulled out her reservation book and asked our names.

But she couldn't find our reservation. "Did you call?" she said.

"No, we made the reservation online, on Expedia."

"Oh, I do not take reservations by computer."

We looked at each other. WTF?

"You can look at my book, you will see you are not there." She ran her finger down the list of reservations, all written in pencil.

"Yes, we see."

"Do you have the papers with you? The reservation?"

"No, we don't."

"You have to have the reservations! I do not understand the new generations. You show up to a hotel, how can you not bring the reservations?"

"Well, we made the reservations in Greece, in a hotel room. We didn't have a printer."

"Ah, I see!" But she continued to chastise us for our obvious stupidity in not bringing the reservation, as if that would have helped.

We found out then that there are two Ermitage Hotels. A nice one, which doesn't take reservations online, and a shithole, which does. When you search for the nice one on Expedia, you will unwittingly get the shithole.

The lady told us we were not the first dumb young people to have made this mistake and said she "felt sorry for us." She gave us detailed directions to the other Ermitage. She advised me about keeping my bag in front of me and then scolded us for dragging our luggage on her rug.

She was the perfect French combination of motherly/helpful and condescending/bitchy.

So then we trudged down the street with our luggage, stunned at what had just happened. We rounded a corner and there was Sacré Coeur. We paused and I said, "Well, might as well take a picture of it."

There was some kind of concert happening on the steps, and the street was crowded. We rode the funicular to the bottom of the hill. We wandered a bit before finally deciding to get another cab.

The outside of the other Ermitage was pretty nondescript. The inside was painted sickly peach, like a hospital in the '80s. And it smelled.

We checked in, (What do you know, they had our reservation!), and lugged our bags up to the room on the fourth floor. It was tiny. And hot. And when we opened the window, it was a cacophony of street noise. And we didn't feel confident about the bed linens.

We analyzed the situation for a few more minutes before deciding that we didn't want to stay there. I mean, we're not super picky. We didn't need the Ritz or anything, but this was too much. And we suspected the proprietor might have been exploiting his housekeeping staff. We wouldn't be comfortable there.

So we found a couple of good hotel options in our guide book, grabbed our luggage and walked out the way we came in. And grabbed another cab.

We wound up staying at our first pick, the Jeu de Paume on the Ile Saint-Louis. It was a cool old building that used to be tennis courts. It had big exposed wooden beams. When we walked in, there was a giant golden retriever lying in the lobby. It was awesome. And the staff was over-the-top accommodating.

We rested for a minute, but after the Ermitage fiasco, we had no daylight to spare.

If you're ever in Paris, I highly recommend the Ile Saint-Louis. It's a delightful little neighborhood with beautiful shops, bakeries, cheese shops and ice cream parlors. And a very short walk to Notre Dame.

Notre Dame was exquisite, of course. But it surprised me how touristy it was. Every other cathedral I've been to had made an effort to preserve the religious nature of the church. Even the ones that have gift shops and tour brochures. They at least tell you to be quiet and respectful of those who are there to pray. Notre Dame was a free-for-all. There was even some kind of service happening down front, with singing, and none of the tourists seemed remotely concerned about disrupting it.

Then we walked along the Ile de la Cité, past the Palais de Justice, toward the Louvre, which is open late on Wednesdays!

One serendipitous thing about our impromptu trip to Paris was that we got to see more Parthenon marbles!

A few other Louvre highlights:

Michelangelo's Dying Slave

Venus de Milo

Botticelli's Venus and the Three Graces

Once we had found our way out of the Louvre and dashed across the street to buy an umbrella (because it was raining), we hopped on the Metro (because it was raining) and went back to our hotel.

We had dinner that night at L'Ilot Vache, an adorable and cozy little restaurant. I had the prix fixe menu with escargot, brochettes de bœuf, cheese course and chocolate mousse. (Kim had the fish and creme brulée.)

During the cheese course we had an unbelievable laughing fit. This was probably a combination of the exhausting day we'd had and a little too much wine. I said, "This cheese is kind of stinky cheese," which in Paris is sort of like pointing out that the sky is blue. We laughed uncontrollably 'til dessert.

The trip: Part 11 (Last day in Santorini)

2009-12-02T23:06:00.001-06:00

Day 11
On our last day in Santorini, we walked to Fira to check out the archeological museum, which houses artifacts of the island's prehistoric settlement.

A big volcanic eruption in the 15th or 16th century B.C. covered the island in a layer of ash and destroyed the civilization, which included complexes of multi-story buildings and the oldest known running water system. In 1967 archeologists began excavating the site, called Akrotiri, and found it had been remarkably preserved, much like Pompeii. They found stunning pottery and amazing frescoes still beautifully intact. Amazing.

The museum was small but really well-designed. Very sparse, so the artifacts really stood out.

Just outside the museum is Fira's Orthodox Cathedral, which is all white and lovely.

Then we wandered around Fira and did some souvenir shopping and ate lunch at Naoussa. Best spaghetti I've ever had. And as we were sitting at our balcony table, the donkeys came by.

After lunch we wandered around some more, taking lots of photos before our flight out.

We saw lots of people taking wedding photos during our stay in Santorini, and most of them were doing silly, awkward poses on the cliff. Like this (imagine me in a flowing white veil):

This is an olive tree. They were everywhere in Greece. On the way to Delphi we saw miles of olive trees. They are a beautiful silvery green.

This is one of the tiny lizards that were constantly crossing our path in Santorini.

We were eager for our next destination but so glad to have experienced Santorini, which was uniquely beautiful and fascinating.

We flew back into Athens that night and were exhausted by the time we got to the Electra Palace Hotel. So we ordered room service pizza and enjoyed the view from our balcony.

The trip: Part 10 (Scuba!)

2009-11-25T16:25:00.000-06:00

Day 10
We had set up a pretty high expectation level for excitement with that volcano boat tour, so we decided we had to up the ante a bit. We signed up for scuba diving.

Neither of us had ever scuba-dived before, so we really didn't know what to expect. We were picked up in a van by a large, blond man who we later found out was Norwegian. (You'd automatically assume that everyone in Greece speaking Greek is Greek, but you'd be surprised.) He was making fun of how Greeks never show up anywhere on time. "You've heard of GMT? Greenwich Mean Time? Here it's Greek Maybe Time."

We drove south and wound up at Caldera Beach.

We were given a crash course on scuba from the dive leader, Paul. We had to learn the hand signals (because you can't talk to each other, of course) and the various ways to control whether you sink or float. Also how to keep your eardrums from bursting. And how not to drown.

Then we put on our gear and practiced using it. The wetsuits were much stiffer and harder to get on than I anticipated.

Then we waded into the water and practiced putting our faces in and breathing from the tank. It was semi-freaky. Then Paul started leading us deeper into the water.

I had some issues. For one, I kept floating up. The instructors had to keep grabbing me and pulling me back down. You're supposed to point your head and shoulders down to go down, and I apparently wasn't bending enough. (It felt wrong that when I leaned way forward my tank smacked me in the back of the head.) Also I was kicking my flippers too fast.

I had a couple of panic moments, when I felt like I couldn't catch my breath or was possibly hyperventilating. But they were few and were separated by long stretches of calm.

Paul had brought fish food, and when we reached a sufficient depth he started releasing it. Fish started swarming all around us. It felt like being inside a snowglobe. I tried to touch the fish, but they were too fast.

I have no concept of how long we were under or how deep we went. I found it impossible to look around me or pay attention to anything but the task at hand.

Paul led us back up the beach and to the surface. I immediately felt a rush of nausea and started imagining how embarrassed I'd be to vomit in the Aegean. Kim had a similar reaction. Luckily, we managed not to.

We struggled out of our wetsuits, (the Norwegian guy actually yanked mine off of me), and sat around recuperating until an Australian guy drove us back to the hotel.

The rest of the day we did this:

I've never seen the appeal of a vacation where all you do is lie by the pool or lie on the beach. I need to go places! See stuff! Do things! But I must admit, one day of lying around was nice. And we weren't completely sedentary: Whenever we got too hot, we jumped in the pool.

And we relaxed and chatted and dozed and got sunburned. We ordered a fabulous chicken club sandwich from room service (it had a fried egg on it!). And we took a few pictures of our surroundings.

There was a young German couple who also spent the whole day poolside. They were alternately nauseating (like when they were lying all over each other) and kind of cute (like when he was reading aloud to her from a book about Frida Kahlo.) The woman had a fascinating technique for avoiding tan lines: She changed swimsuits four times. And apparently it works, because she had nary a line. And it was a lovely little fashion show for us. (Speaking of shows, she also took her top off at one point and made a half-hearted and ineffectual attempt to cover herself with her hands.)

After sunset we finally got off our butts and drove to Oia to have dinner at Amoudi Bay. We ate at Taverna Katina, where basically the only thing on the menu is fresh grilled fish. We couldn't figure out how many kilos of fish we should order, (we should've brushed up on our metric system before the trip), so the waiter had us come to the kitchen to look at the fish. We wound up having red snapper and Greek salads. We wanted dessert, but they didn't have any, so they gave us coffees on the house.

A great night. The first of the trip when our feet weren't even sore.

The trip: Part 9 (More of the island)

2009-11-20T19:00:00.002-06:00

Day nine
After another perfect breakfast, we rented a tiny European car to explore the island.

We first headed for the inland village of Pyrgos and got a little bit lost. The roads in Santorini don’t have names. I stared at the map for a long time before I figured this out. And since neither of us has an internal compass, navigating was a little tricky.

Then we went looking for the beaches, which are on the opposite side of the island from the caldera. First we found Perissa, the black sand beach. It was fairly deserted at that time of morning. We didn’t stay long.

Then we went looking for the red beach, which was surprisingly hard to get to. From the parking lot you have to scale a pretty large, rocky hill to get down to the beach. I wouldn’t have wanted to do it in a swimming suit and flip-flops.

It was quite beautiful, though. I can see why people make the effort.

On an impulse we decided to drive out to Akrotiri Lighthouse, which is on the far southern tip of the island. The lighthouse itself was sort of understated.

Since it was at the tip of the crescent-shaped island, there were lovely rocky cliffs for us to climb out on.

Driving back toward Fira, we spotted these two stray dogs hanging out by the road. I made Kim pull over to get their picture.

We stopped for lunch at a Mexican restaurant on the way. Yes, a Mexican restaurant in Greece. It’s called — get this — Senor Zorba. We had planned to go there mainly because we thought it was funny. It turned out to be cute and fun and beautifully perched on the cliff. And expensive. A small tostada was $9. A Coke was $6. And you couldn’t even save money by ordering water because the tap water in Santorini is too salty to drink. So you got $6 Coke or $6 bottled water.

Which reminds me — I forgot to mention the toilets. In Santorini you can’t flush any toilet paper because the plumbing is so delicate. You have to put it in a little trash can next to the toilet. You might think this would be nasty, but it’s actually not so bad. You get used to it pretty fast.

Anyway, after lunch we stopped by the island’s main port at Athinios to ask about ferries to other islands. Unfortunately, only one island was available for one-day trips: Ios. And I’m sure Ios is lovely, but we had read that it was a real party island with lots of shopping and nightlife, which wasn’t really what we were looking for.

We drove on to Oia (pronounced ee-a), the village at the north end of the island. We drove down to Amoudi Bay, where the fishing boats were bringing in their fresh catches. Those guys in the bottom right were gutting a 3-foot-long fish right on the sidewalk.

We walked around to the other side of the cliff, where a bunch of people were swimming and jumping off the rocks into the water. We might have jumped in if we’d had our suits on.

We walked around Oia for a while before deciding it was too hot to be walking around with all those tourists.

We ate dinner that night in Fira at Ampelos Wine Bar. I had a very yummy artichoke stew with potatoes. We listened to the dumb Americans at the next table ordering decaf. “I just want regular coffee, only without caffeine.” Because Greek coffee isn’t regular.

Then we had some more awesome gelato. I got banana. And nearly died.

The trip: Part 8 (Thalassa tour)

2009-11-16T21:53:00.000-06:00

Day eight
During our stay in Santorini, we had breakfast every morning on our patio overlooking the caldera. The breakfasts were fabulous. We had giant bowls of yogurt with honey and fresh fruit and buttery croissants and fresh-squeezed orange juice. (Orange juice was a big thing in Greece. You could get fresh-squeezed OJ practically anywhere.)

After breakfast we went hiking out on Skaros rock, which juts into the sea just below our hotel. Skaros was once the site of a dense medieval settlement and castle but has been uninhabited since a large earthquake in the 19th century.

The view from out there was pretty nice.

When we'd hiked around to the opposite side of Skaros, we were surprised to discover a little white chapel.

Kim likes to make me crouch in nooks.

After we'd cooled off back at the hotel, we walked to Fira and ate grilled cheese at Zafora. (They call it toast.)

We had signed up for a boat tour of the volcano that our hotel recommended. To get to the port at Fira, you can either walk down 600 stone steps, ride a donkey or take the cable cars down the cliff.

In what must have been a translation problem, we thought our hotel clerk had told us to wait at the top of the cable cars. But when we got there, we didn't see anyone else waiting. So we asked the cable car clerk if she knew whether we were supposed to wait at the top or the bottom.

So she kindly explained that boats cannot come up the cliff. "It's only logical," she said.

Oh! You don't say!

So we rode to the bottom. The cable cars are sort of like an enclosed ski lift.

Our boat was a replica of an 18th century sailboat called Thalassa.

In Fira we had bought sun hats to protect against the unrelenting Greek sun. (Have I mentioned that it's sunny there? It is sunny there.)

The boat sailed out to Nea Kammeni, the small island where the volcano is still active. We hiked up about a mile and a half to the rim of the crater.

This is our tour guide. He gave us a really interesting history of the island and the volcanic eruptions that have shaped it. Behind him you can see the rock layers of the island. The top white-ish layer is volcanic ash.

The boat then took us around the other side of the volcano to the hot springs, where we hopped off the boat for a swim. It was outrageously fun.

We climbed back aboard, and the boat swung around and docked near Thirassia, the second largest island of Santorini, and we ate a feast of Greek hors d'oeuvres and Santorini wine.

The boat then moved back toward the main island and paused once again to raise the sails. The tan, muscular crewmen jumped around the boat in bare feet, unleashing the huge white sails.

Another crewman played the saxophone as we watched the sunset over the Aegean.

But somehow the day hadn't been quite magical enough. We went to dinner at Selene, probably the island's most famous restaurant. And the food was some of the best of my life. Beef filet with honey butter and green beans, followed by vanilla creme with strawberries.

It was a good day.

The trip: Part 7 (Santorini)

2009-11-13T19:57:00.000-06:00

Day seven
On the seventh day, we went to Santorini.

Santorini is a small volcanic island in the Cyclades, just north of Crete. The main island is crescent-shaped, with the center of the volcano on a smaller island in the center of the crescent. The cities are perched on the cliffs looking down into the caldera. It is breathtaking.

We stayed at a fantastic hotel called Astra Apartments. All the rooms have views of the caldera. Ours was right next to the pool.

Before we fully explored the island, we had a bit of business to take care of. Our original plan was to return to Athens for two days after Santorini, but after three days in Athens, we felt like we had seen all we needed to see. So we made the impromptu decision to add Paris to the itinerary.

We were staying in the village of Imerovigli, which is a 25-minute walk from the much busier capital of Fira via a twisting, turning, uphill, downhill footpath. We walked over, amazed at the landscape and architecture and unrelenting Greek sunshine. For lunch we shared an enormous sandwich and gargantuan bowl of yogurt and fruit at Mylos Cafe. We also had the most amazing gelato of my life at Il Gelato d’oro.

Fira was full of tourists and the stupid stuff tourists like. The number of jewelry stores was incredible. You can tell what kind of people vacation in Santorini. (The kind who go to beautiful island resorts to shop for giant diamonds.)

We were looking for a travel agency that could help us find a flight to Paris, or at least somewhere in western Europe. So we walked into one and asked the woman if she had a flight to Paris from Santorini.

And she said, “Why? Is only two hours by boat.”

“Paris, France?”

“Oh, Paris. Not Poros.” **eyeroll**

She found us one flight from Athens to Paris. So then we asked if she had flights to several other cities. She didn’t. And she was getting annoyed with us. She said, “I cannot search all the flights.” And she looked away from us when she was exasperated, as though we might just get up and leave her alone if she stopped looking at us. (We would see this technique used again the next day by a different Greek clerk.) And eventually we did give up on her.

We went back to our hotel and borrowed a laptop to book our own trip. We had picked up a Paris travel book in the Athens airport and found a recommendation for Ermitage Hotel in Montmartre. It was described as family-owned and charming and decorated with antiques. So we jumped on Expedia and booked a flight to Paris and two nights at the Ermitage. We felt quite satisfied with ourselves. To be continued ...

We finished the evening with a glass of wine (or two) on our patio, watching the sunset over the volcano.

The trip: Part 6 (Delphi)

2009-11-11T19:42:00.002-06:00

Day six
We knew that we wanted to go to Delphi, but we weren’t exactly sure how to get there. We were planning to take a public bus, but it became clear that figuring out the bus schedule might be problematic. And the bus might not be air-conditioned. And we might have missed the early bus anyway. So we had our hotel arrange a bus tour for us.

And it turned out to be kind of fun. The bus was very plush, and the group was really diverse. We sat across from two women from Minnesota and in front of a young couple from Australia with an adorable baby.

Delphi is about two hours from Athens, driving through beautiful mountainous country. We stopped for coffee on the way in a little restaurant/shop that seemed to be in the middle of nowhere.

We stopped again in the little village of Arachova, which our guide called the Aspen of Greece. It’s the ski resort where the elite of Athens vacation. It was quite charming.

Delphi is situated on the slopes of Mount Parnassus in what felt like a pretty remote spot. It was beautiful and quiet there.

A brief history lesson: Delphi was considered the center of the ancient world, the “navel” of the Earth. It was a worship site for the god Apollo and the site of the Oracle of Delphi. In ancient times the oracle was consulted on matters ranging from personal relationships to wars and political dealings. A priestess would inhale vapors escaping from the rocks, fall into a trance and yell out random words and phrases. Priests would then “interpret” these messages into answers for the questioning worshipers. The answers were known to be quite vague.

Here we are with the navel rock.

The site became a huge complex of buildings. Politically the site was supposed to be neutral. But each city-state built its own treasury house, where they displayed evidence of their prosperity and military prowess with hundreds of sculptures and other treasure.

This is our tour guide, Effie. She was very funny and Greek. She also had to give the entire tour in both English and French because we had three French people on-board who didn't speak English. It was kind of impressive.

We had only about 15 minutes to look around, and the Temple of Apollo was closed because of “technical problems.” Then we went to the museum, which houses the sculptures and other artifacts they have been able to save from the site.

You could take photos in the museum, but you were not allowed to pose with the artworks. So that is totally not what I was doing here.

We ate lunch in the modern village of Delphi, which was also very cute. I had moussaka, which is a Greek casserole with eggplant and meat sauce. Kim had eggplant shoe, a weird name for what was basically stuffed eggplant.

The ride back to Athens was uneventful except that Greece was in the middle of a dramatic national election and both presidential parties were staging rallies in Athens that night. Traffic was a little hairy, but I was amazed that those giant tour buses could navigate the narrow Greek streets to begin with.

That night we went to the trendy Gazi district and ate at Myrovolos. We had super yummy potato dishes and pita bread, followed by a marvelous chocolate souffle. There was a big group of young professionals at the next table having an intense discussion about the Greek election.

Then we wanted a taste of the Greek nightlife. But we were about two hours too early. The Greeks don't eat dinner until 9 or 10, so the bars aren't exactly hopping at that time. We had a quiet drink and headed back to the hotel.

There was a pet store on the corner by the hotel that had unbearably cute puppies in the window. It was a sweet end to our nights in Athens.

The trip: Part 5 (The Acropolis)

2009-11-10T21:18:00.000-06:00

Day five
We tried to get an early start before it got really hot. After scoring the aforementioned bargain cappuccinos, we took the Sunshine Express again up to the Acropolis.

I’m having trouble putting into words what the Acropolis experience was like. A thousand photographs could not have prepared me for the sight of the Parthenon.

It was a moderately steep climb to the top. Along the way, dogs snoozed on the marble, which stays cool even in the unrelenting Greek sunshine.

First we climbed past the little Temple of Athena Nike, up the steps to the Propylea, the ancient gateway to the Acropolis.

Even half-covered with scaffolding, the Parthenon made us gasp. It is truly remarkable.

We walked slowly around it, pausing to look down at the Theater of Dionysus and foundations of the temple of Asklepios.

The Parthenon is being meticulously restored to its former glory (before fires and wars and pollution and other stupid human behavior “ruined” it). Pieces of marble scattered around the site are being categorized and returned to their original positions, with new pieces being fitted to the millimeter to fill in the gaps. Replica sculptures are even being placed back on the pediments that remain.

Then was the Erechtheum, with its Porch of the Caryatids, a temple to Athena and Poseidon.

Then we climbed up the Rock of Ares, a big rock just below the main Acropolis where the Apostle Paul is said to have preached in 51 AD. The view was lovely.

We then walked to the new Acropolis Museum, which just opened in June. It was built, in part, because in the past, when Greece requested that Britain return the Parthenon Marbles, British officials said the Greeks had no suitable place to display them. The new museum features a glass gallery with almost 180° views of the Parthenon itself.

The museum is built on top of an archaeological site, and the building design features glass floors so you can look down on the excavation. An amazing floor mosaic was visible just in front of the museum entrance.

The museum houses what remains of the Parthenon Marbles, plus every other artifact and artwork discovered on the Acropolis. I managed to snag a photo of the Calfbearer before we were told photos weren’t allowed. Kim was this close to getting Kritios Boy.

Then we took the metro to Piraeus, the port of Athens, and bought a ferry ticket to Aegina, a small island about 40 minutes away. The ferry was enormous and mostly empty. We stood at the railing and got covered with salt spray.

Aegina was cute. The town was tightly packed with shops and restaurants and scooter rental places. We ate giant Greek salads and baked feta at a cafe beside the bay. There were cats everywhere. They would sit at your feet and meow for scraps. When people got up from their tables, the cats would hop up and start licking the plates until they got shewed away by the waiters.

Then we rented a four-wheeler with the intention of going to see the Temple of Aphaea. We made it half-way around the island before we had to turn back so we wouldn’t miss our ferry back to Pireaus. So we wound up seeing a glimpse of the temple from what turned out to be very far away.

We returned our four-wheeler and then bought some local pistachios, the island’s top export. Then we went back and bought more because they were so flippin’ delicious.

We dozed on the ferry back to Pireaus. On the metro back to the hotel, a girl sat across from us and meticulously ate every kernel from a roasted ear of corn.

Before calling it a night we went to our hotel’s rooftop lounge and took some blurry photos of the Acropolis.

The trip: Part 4 (Athens)

2009-11-06T20:34:00.000-06:00

Day four
We said goodbye-for-now to London and hopped an early flight to Athens. We flew over the Alps!

Then we embarked on a sweaty, crowded two-hour subway ride to our hotel.

We stayed at the Fresh Hotel, an ultra-modern place with lots of hot pink everywhere. When we got up to the room, none of the lights worked. We flipped every combination of switches we could think of before Kim finally called the front desk and said, “We need someone to come up and show us how the lights work.” The woman laughed at us and said you have to insert your key card into a slot in the wall before the electricity will work. (Is this a thing now? They might think about mentioning it at check-in so the guests aren’t made to feel like morons.)

We took a walk though the Plaka, which is the very touristy area surrounding the Acropolis. And when I say touristy, believe me. It was unreal. Block after block of young guys selling the same fake designer handbags, dime-store toys and cliche Greek souvenirs. And yet it was interesting. Unlike anywhere else I’d ever been.

Athens was kind of fascinating. Some areas of the city were pretty cosmopolitan, with upscale department stores and sushi restaurants and people walking around in suits. We were staying in the more “gritty” area of the city, with the outdoor meat markets and pet shops with caged pigeons on the sidewalk. But even there we saw many sanitation workers cleaning up trash and hosing down the sidewalks. Everything was very clean. But everything was also covered in graffiti. Everything. Here was one recurring theme:

Athens was also full of stray dogs. They just roamed around, crossing busy streets, sleeping on sidewalks. Many of them had collars, though they didn’t seem very interested in people. Most of them were really fat.

We took a short tour of the Plaka on the Sunshine Express, a little open-air trolley thing. It was sort of surreal how around every turn there was some new piece of astounding ancient history. There were ruins just right there, in the middle of town, like it was no big deal.

Dinner that night was seafood risotto at Palea Athina, which was our first opportunity to try octopus, which we loved!

Then we wanted some dessert and coffee, so we stopped into a deelish-looking patisserie called Chatzi. It took 30 minutes for the girl to explain to us in broken English what everything was. This was also the first time we noticed how expensive food is in Greece. The pastry I originally picked out was $18. (I chose something else.) The thimbles of cappuccino were $6 each. This came to be a running theme during our visit, and we considered it a major victory the next day when we got normal-sized coffees for only $4.

The trip: Part 3 (Winchester)

2009-11-05T19:30:00.000-06:00

Day three
We started the day with coffee from Costa Coffee, which is the British Starbucks. Then we hopped on a train to the countryside, on our way to Jane Austen’s house.

We arrived in Winchester to find no signage or information of any kind about the house. The train station attendant had no idea what I was talking about. A nice taxi driver finally directed us toward the bus stop, which wasn’t quite right, but a bus driver directed us toward the bus station, which was.

Winchester was a charming town with a nice pedestrian area and lots of cute shops and restaurants, and I’d recommend it for a day trip even if you don’t go on to Jane’s house. But we were on a mission.

A bus took us to the village of Chawton, a quiet, quaint little place with thatched-roof houses and lovely gardens. And, of course:

Jane lived the last eight years of her life in this house and wrote “Mansfield Park,” “Emma” and “Persuasion” and revised her other earlier novels here. It was a cute little museum. And it was wonderful to imagine Jane living there and sitting down to write at her tiny writing table.

We ate a ploughman’s lunch at the village’s only pub, the Greyfriar, and walked down to Chawton House, the estate where Jane’s wealthy brother lived. Nearby are the graves of Jane’s mother and sister and a lovely field of sheep. Very pastoral.

Next we headed to Winchester Cathedral, where Jane is buried. The cathedral was built in 1079 and is the longest Gothic cathedral in Europe. It felt unbelievably old.

Jane’s grave is simple, and the epitaph doesn’t mention her writing. A memorial plaque nearby was added later to commemorate her literary achievements.

That evening, back in London, we saw “Oliver!” in the West End and ate a glorious Indian feast at Punjab, the U.K.’s oldest North Indian restaurant. We were still thinking about the food weeks later.

The trip: Part 2 (Hampton Court and British Museum)

2009-11-04T23:40:00.003-06:00

Day two
The first thing we did on day two was get slightly lost on the way to the train station. It turned out OK, though, because we stumbled upon the London Wall, the remains of the defensive wall constructed around the city by the Romans in the 2nd century.

We did eventually make it to Waterloo Station.

Our destination was Hampton Court, Henry VIII’s palace just outside London. It was built in 1514 as home of the Archbishop of York, who gave it to the king when he figured out he was likely next on the king’s beheading schedule.

Hampton Court was full of amazing, giant tapestries that the guide told us were the most valuable things owned by the British Royal Family. They covered many of the walls.

The ceilings were pretty nice, too.

“Could you take our picture in front of this painting? Actually, the painting’s not that important. But make sure to get the rug.”

We ate lunch at a little place across from the palace called Blubecker’s and had the best New England chowder since we were in New England.

We took the train back to London and headed for the British Museum.

This is what it looks like when you walk in.

We were primarily there to see the Parthenon Marbles since we knew we’d be seeing the actual Parthenon later in the trip. And they were magnificent.

In case you don’t know, most of the surviving marble sculptures that were once on the Parthenon were removed by a British ambassador and shipped to Britain in the early 19th century. They’ve been on display in the British Museum since 1816. Athens has continually requested that the marbles be returned to Greece, but Britain refuses. It’s a fascinating debate.

After the museum, we wandered through Russell Square and Bedford Square, which has the loveliest arched doorways.

Then we wandered around Soho and had dinner at Balan’s and dessert at Amalfi. We finished the evening with drinks at the Candy Bar. We were a little early, but we made the most of it.

Tomorrow, Day three: A literary pilgrimage!

The trip: Part 1

2009-11-03T21:31:00.003-06:00

So you might have heard I went on a trip recently. It was rather spectacular. I couldn’t possibly recount it all in one post, so here is the first installment.

Day one
Kim and I left Kansas City at 1:35 p.m. Friday, with a stop in Chicago before heading to London. The flight was about eight hours. We saw the sun set over New England.

We arrived in London at about 8:30 a.m., having had maybe two or three hours of good sleep. But we felt surprisingly fresh. We took the Tube from the airport, discovering along the way that the Tube station two minutes from our hotel was closed for the weekend. So we got off at a different station, stupidly not noticing exactly how far away we were. Then we dragged our suitcases over uneven cobbly sidewalks for an hour before finally finding our hotel. The Rookery was a charming little place full of antiques, built in a block of 18th-century row houses.

Our room wasn’t ready, so we headed out to find some breakfast. We went into the Fox & Anchor, a traditional old pub with a mahogany bar. The guy behind the counter said, “Fancy a wee beer?” It was 10 a.m. We skipped the beer and ordered breakfast instead. My bacon and fried egg sandwich was served on a wooden cutting block. Awesome. (FYI, in London, “bacon” is ham.)

From there we walked to St. Bartholomew the Great, one of London’s oldest churches (1123) and featured in “Four Weddings and a Funeral.” We went in, but a ceremony was going on that might have been an ordination of some kind, so we couldn’t stay. But the building was old and fascinating.

Then we walked to St. Paul’s Cathedral, the beautiful and enormous cathedral where Charles and Diana were married. It features one of the largest domes in the world. If you climb 530 steps, you can go to the top of the dome. Despite our lack of sleep, we went for it.

Then we went back to the hotel and collapsed. We are resilient travelers, though, and after a two-hour nap, we were ready to go again. First we walked along the Thames and saw the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben.

For dinner we went to Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese, a fantastic wood-paneled old place said to have been frequented by Charles Dickens, Alfred Lord Tennyson, Arthur Conan Doyle and Samuel Johnson. We had the fish and chips.

Tomorrow, Day two: Monarchs and looted treasures!

Semper fi

2009-11-02T22:16:00.002-06:00

Today would have been my dad’s 78th birthday. Which is insane to me because it sounds so old. Almost 80! It's been 14 years since he passed away, so he’s frozen in time for me at 64.

I’m reading “Going After Cacciato” by Tim O’Brien, a novel about the Vietnam War, which makes me think about my dad, even though he never talked about Vietnam. I only ever remember having one conversation with him about it. I was in sixth or seventh grade and wanted to interview him for a school paper. But I didn’t know what questions to ask, so he just started talking and I wrote down what he said. Here’s an excerpt:

Young Marines became confused when they would fight for a piece of real estate, watch their buddies get wounded or killed, and then return to their cantonment positions, allowing the Viet Cong to again have control of the land. Then they would go back in a few months to fight for the same piece of land, perhaps seeing more buddies hurt or killed.

This confusion spread back to the people of the United States and the Vietnam War became one of the most unpopular wars the U.S. had ever been involved in. There were mass demonstrations in this country, draft card burning, and possible draftees fleeing to Canada to avoid the draft.

Although the United Nations forces possessed far superior fire power, naval power and air power, the North Vietnamese were able to fight the U.N. troops to a standstill. The war finally ended when it was agreed upon that a new government would be established in Saigon and all U.N. troops would withdraw. Although we won the war, we lost the peace, as the South Vietnamese government is now communist.

What he gave me was pretty dry business. Not much about the thoughts or feelings of the troops on the ground. He did seem to emphasize the frustration and confusion of the young Marines, who he said often didn’t even understand why they were in Vietnam. He wasn’t a young Marine, though. He was in his mid-30s, already a veteran of the Korean War. He was obviously concerned with what the young guys were going through, but what was the experience like for him? What did he think of the protests and politics back in the U.S.? What was it like to come home? These are the kinds of questions I would ask if I’d been able to know him as an adult.

I recently submitted this picture to myparentswereawesome.tumblr.com, which features old photos of people’s parents being awesome. It’s very enjoyable. Before the fanny packs and Andrea Bocelli concerts, your parents (and grandparents) were once free-wheeling, fashion-forward, and super awesome.

I don’t know who took that photo of my dad or where it was taken or when, but I know he was awesome. Happy birthday, dad. I miss you.

November

2009-11-01T22:53:00.001-06:00

Even though I haven't blogged in about a hundred years, I'm thinking about doing the National Blog Posting Month again this year. I actually haven't felt like blogging since last November ended, but in the past couple of weeks, I have felt the urge again. I'm sure a full month of daily blogging will be enough to squelch it.

In any event, I'm posting this so I can keep my options open.

OMG!

2009-07-30T12:30:00.000-05:00

OK, so I finally found a good reason to post: I must warn the world.

This morning I slipped on my shoes out of the closet, and I noticed what felt like fuzz or dog hair on one shoe. So I took it off and picked it up, and the shoe was covered with spider web. I cautiously tipped the shoe forward, and there was a spider crouching in the toe!

Thank God it didn't bite me when I put the shoe on. I don't know whether it was a brown recluse. I took the shoe outside and threw it on the ground and the spider crawled out.

Seriously, people, shake those shoes out.

Gratuitous baby pictures

2009-04-16T20:46:00.003-05:00

This is my niece Jaylee.

Ioway

2009-04-15T11:44:00.003-05:00

I went to Iowa last weekend with my mother-in-law to see Brandi Carlile in concert. I'm not sure I would drive six hours just for a concert, regardless of the performer, but my mother-in-law is sort of a Brandi groupie.

And the concert was pretty great. If you don't know Brandi Carlile's music, check it out. Start here. She's a talented gal. Her voice is so rich and gritty, and I love the way classic country has influenced her sound.

Here I am looking like a dork while she signs my T-shirt. I couldn't think of anything to say to her, so she just starting singing "Jackson" while she signed.

If it looks like we were in an art gallery, it's because we were. The concert was at Hoyt Sherman Place in Des Moines, a giant Victorian mansion that's been converted into a stunning theater space and art gallery. It was really neat.

On the way home from Des Moines we drove through Madison County, so we decided to veer off the interstate and see the covered bridges. I have not read the book or seen the movie, so the only appeal of the bridges was to see something historic that we don't have in Kansas.

But honestly, they're not much to look at. There are only five of the original bridges left, and they're really only famous because of the movie, which looked pretty cheesy to me. But regardless, now I can say I've seen them. And I must admit, they are kind of cute and rustic and Amish-looking and all delightfully painted red.

New on Etsy

2009-04-08T13:47:00.004-05:00

I don't intend to post every time I list something new in the shop, but this one was a particular labor of love.

This design was inspired by the work of Orla Kiely, a London designer who uses a lot of bold, modern patterns. I think her stuff is really fun and cool, and I thought it would make a good cross stitch. I like how it turned out.

I may experiment with doing some other graphic patterns, but most likely they will not be this small and detailed because this was a little tedious, even for me.

Adventures in Larryville

2009-04-06T13:14:00.003-05:00

I was in Lawrence last weekend and got to see the Jayhawks play in the championship game of the WNIT. We didn't win, but it was a fantastic game. It also set a Big 12 women's attendance record of 16,113. The place was rockin'.

Also, I'm famous!
Kim submitted this photo of me and Ben with Joan Baez to the paper's Friends & Neighbors section. The three of us went to the concert on St. Patrick's Day, which was a wonderful experience. I'm so glad I got to see her live. (And from the front row!)

Nothing new

2009-03-16T15:35:00.001-05:00

The Google search that most often brings people to my blog is the phrase “Rush Limbaugh is a fucking idiot,” which was the title of a post from mid-October. But as you know, Rush Limbaugh continues to be a fucking idiot, even when there’s not an impending national election. I’m impressed that so many other people think so, too.

In business

2009-03-10T22:53:00.004-05:00

Another new endeavor for me (besides fondling my new pens) has been my Etsy shop, Wall Work. I'm selling modern cross stitch pieces, mostly plant and animal designs, with a few word pieces thrown in (as seen at left).

I've been featured on Etsy's front page three times (here, here and here) and in Etsy's blog, The Storque, in a post called "Who's Got Talent?" I've also been featured in a couple of other blogs, including the very cool decor8. And all that attention is extremely flattering, even if it didn't result in any actual sales.

In total, I've had six sales in the past three and a half months, which I think is pretty good, considering what I sell and at what price point. My first sale was this shell piece:

I've become moderately obsessed with Etsy, visiting the site dozens of times a day, hanging around the discussion forum, following on Twitter, monitoring my shop on Google Analytics and the various other sites that track shop stats. I try to do as much of my shopping there as possible, and I have bought some really fantastic stuff. In short, I'm having a lot of fun with it.

I don't want this blog to turn into a nonstop Etsy promotion, but because it's on my mind so much, I may write about it from time to time and may even feature some of the really neat shops I discover.

In fact, here's a shop I just recently came across:

Ashley Pahl makes some beautiful note cards and other paper goods. I especially love how she combines paper and felt. Makes me want to reach out and touch them.

Not quite a feast

2009-03-03T16:24:00.000-06:00

But at least an end to the famine. I may start off a bit slowly, though, as I climb back into the blogging saddle.

After two months, my most important news is this: I'm in pen heaven.

After months of struggling with a bunch of my own pens that weren't quite right and the office-issued ones that were dreadful, I turned to the Web. Five to nine business days later, I had a set of Staedtler triplus fineliners, maybe the best pens ever. They are extra-fine felt tips, long and thin and triangular. A joy to hold, a delight to write. True, the yellow will be utterly useless, but I can overlook its inclusion.

Right now I'm using the blue for my day planner and green for my ineffective to-do lists. I'm looking for excuses to take notes about things. This morning I let a co-worker briefly borrow one and felt substantial anxiety until she had returned it.

I would've absolutely swooned for these pens back in my diary-writing days, when colorful, smooth-writing pens were a necessity of life. These days they simply brighten my day a bit and almost make me wish this blog were a long-hand endeavor.

Punked

2008-11-30T20:15:00.002-06:00

We awoke this morning to find this lovely message left on our fence. The police officer said this was at least the seventh report of gang graffiti over the weekend.

Alley oops

2008-11-29T20:05:00.000-06:00

Let’s just say bowling is not my game. Ben’s mom bought him a ball for his birthday, (the Earth ball, above), and we finally got around to trying it out today. I bowled a 48, followed by a 46. Yeah. The sheer number of gutter balls was staggering. Plus, I use a neon pink kid ball with a T Rex on it. Glad I’m not easily embarrassed.

I think my dismal performance may have been due to leftover soreness from playing Wii on Thursday. Yes, I am pathetic.

Music video flashback, pt 2

2008-11-28T00:59:00.000-06:00

I may have watched more MTV in 1989 than any other year. Highlights for me included “Like a Prayer” and “We Didn't Start the Fire,” but Prince’s “Batdance” figures heavily in my memories. Let me warn you: This is a complete piece of crap. It’s shockingly bad, even for Prince, whose sense of good taste is always in question. But watching this transports me right back to my friend Jennifer’s basement rec room, with the wood paneling and leather sectional and endless hours of MTV, back when MTV played music.

Thankful today

2008-11-27T23:54:00.001-06:00

My mother’s laughter; fresh linen and embroidery floss; food that makes me go “mmmmmm”; house/home/husband; red sneakers; love notes; President-elect Obama; sleeping in; J Crew sweaters; furry little dogs; reruns of “House”; flannel sheets; joyful, fulfilling love.

Lamest duck

2008-11-26T13:16:00.000-06:00

Joe Klein has summed up my feelings about President Bush.

While you're over at TIME, check out this collection of LIFE Magazine's classic photos. Fun.

I love this guy

2008-11-25T22:35:00.004-06:00

OK, I know he chewed up my shoes last week. But when you've worked from 8 a.m. to 10 p.m., it's really nice to have a warm, furry, blond boy to snuggle on the couch.

Day 24

2008-11-24T23:01:00.000-06:00

My God, isn't November over yet? This is getting ridiculous.

An update: I finally watered my plants last Thursday. Kudos to me for only letting them die a little bit.

A celebration: I filled up my car with gas today for $21. Awesome.

Wishful thinking

2008-11-23T14:27:00.001-06:00

Relaxing weekend

2008-11-22T23:48:00.001-06:00

Peace out

2008-11-21T23:57:00.000-06:00

The election is over, I know. But I just saw this, and I still think it's worth sharing.

You can read the story here.

Family time

2008-11-20T09:13:00.000-06:00

Saturday is my sister Tracie’s birthday, so my mom, my aunt Sue and my sisters went out to lunch yesterday. The W-loving birthday girl made only one disparaging remark about Obama, which was plenty, but not more than I could successfully ignore. (She insinuated that everyone would be on welfare under his leadership. Out in the parking lot, my mom grabbed my arm and said, “Did you HEAR what she said about Obama?! HE’S not the one who got us into this mess!” My mom, the big liberal. Hehe)

My relationship with my sisters has definitely been tested the past few months. I really can’t imagine why they keep sending me all kinds of cringe-inducing religious e-mail forwards -- despite the fact that none of them go to church. I just delete them, usually after no more than a passing glance. But I couldn’t ignore it when I received the “Obama is the Anti-Christ” e-mail. It wasn’t a particularly brave response -- I just said the e-mail was false and included a link to Snopes -- but it was something. Maybe it kept them from forwarding any other hysterical racist smears. Still, it made me want to yell, just like at lunch yesterday, and sometimes I wonder whether I keep quiet too much in the interest of keeping the peace.

Variations on a theme

2008-11-19T11:41:00.004-06:00

First I’m nearly poisoned by noxious roofing tar fumes, then my stupid dog chews up my favorite shoes.

This morning, I filled my big travel mug with the rest of the coffee, topped it off with milk ... and then discovered the milk was curdled. Horrifying white chunks floating in my delicious coffee.

I’m going to rename this blog “Poop on my parade.”

His terrible 2’s

2008-11-18T21:49:00.001-06:00

Oscar has given me a reason to buy new shoes:

Also, it took me two weeks to burn through that bag of fun-size Twix. Is that good pacing?

Tar wars

2008-11-17T15:59:00.000-06:00

City Hall is getting a new roof -- has been for the past four workdays -- and I'm being slowly asphyxiated by the fumes. The noxious smell threatened to ruin my morning coffee, and I've spent the rest of the day slightly nauseated and woozy. Google has revealed that huffing roof tar is no big deal, so there goes my workers' comp jackpot. I'll be fine as soon as the fresh air returns. In the meantime, my productivity is in the tank. I'll bet they didn't figure that into the cost of the roof.

Advice from Mom

2008-11-16T22:43:00.000-06:00

(inspired by Mighty Girl)

Smile. People will think you're a nice girl.

Never let your car get below a quarter-tank.

Shoes have to be real leather. The fake ones will make your feet stink.

Kids are jerks.

Be careful, because like can turn to love real quick.

Wouldn't you rather have a steak?

At least make an appearance.

Never go out with wet hair. You'll catch pneumonia.

Men are just like that.

Dear Oscar

2008-11-15T19:43:00.001-06:00

Today is Oscar's birthday. He's 2.

W.

2008-11-14T17:03:00.000-06:00

I saw Oliver Stone's "W." last week, and I keep thinking about it every time I see a news photo of George Bush. It's sometimes confusing to remember what was the movie and what is the real president.

As movies go, it wasn't great. It was fairly boring in the middle, during W's young adulthood as a perpetual screw-up and drunk. The portrayals of Condoleezza Rice and Colin Powell and Tony Blair bordered on caricature. It was also full of expository dialogue and unnecessary repeating of characters' names, as though the movie were made for people who weren't really paying attention in 2002.

The movie goes pretty easy on George, painting him as just a dumb frat boy forever trying to win his father's respect. And also extremely self-centered and lazy and over-confident. Which, I grant, is not exactly what you want in a president, but it's still a more sympathetic picture than Bush deserves. In the end, I felt kind of sorry for him, which just feels wrong.

Healthy and sassy

2008-11-13T20:11:00.000-06:00

The state health foundation conducts a phone survey with my mom:

Interviewer: Are you active?

Mom: Just watching the grandkids. And ugh, they're about to have another one.

Interviewer: How often do you go to the doctor?

Mom: I try to avoid it.

Interviewer: When was the last time you went to the dentist?

Mom: Uh, I don't think Medicare covers that.

Interviewer: When was the last time you had a pap smear?

Mom: Well, you don't have to have pap smears if you don't have sex.

Interviewer: You're funny.

Rarrrr! (I’m a Lion)

2008-11-12T19:56:00.000-06:00

After months of cajoling by a work acquaintance, I finally gave in and joined the Lions Club.

It was a moment of weakness. It’s not like I don’t have enough to do, enough meetings to go to. And it’s not like this is really my kind of thing, with all the socializing and community involvement and so forth.

But I know and enjoy several of the members, and community involvement is good for my job, and the meetings are over lunch, and the Lions do some good charitable work, and I couldn’t think of a good excuse. And so, I’m a Lion.

The Lions are extremely corny. The lion puns are everywhere: the Lion Tale, the Lion’s Roar, the Tail Twister. They address each other as Lion Dan and Lion Carrie and Lion Kevin. When they call the roll, they say, “Proud to be a Lion.” When they take a vote, they say “Rarrrrrrr!” for yay and “Meow” for nay.

Yeah, not really my kind of thing. And yet today I took the Lion oath to support the mission of the club and contribute my fair share to its efforts. I’ll be ignoring the puns for right now.

New world order

2008-11-11T22:57:00.000-06:00

A nice offer for a Monday afternoon

2008-11-10T17:51:00.000-06:00

I was on the phone with the fire chief this afternoon, and I was trying to ask if he wanted me to put him on hold. Instead, I said, "Do you want me to hold you?" He said, "Do I want you to ... what?"

Music video flashback

2008-11-09T23:05:00.000-06:00

Cher |MTV Music

Cher in 1989. “If I Could Turn Back Time,” featuring a ship full of sailors and Cher in a bizarre fishnet ensemble. I remember MTV only played this video after 9 p.m. because of her ass cheeks. It was deliciously scandalous for 10-year-old me.

I need houseplant therapy

2008-11-08T08:52:00.000-06:00

Several of my plants appear to be dying. This could be because I haven’t watered them in a few weeks. Which makes me think: Why haven’t I? I walk past these plants several times a day, and I often think to myself that they need water, that they’re on the verge of death. But I do nothing about it. Even now, I’m writing about watering them rather than doing it.

I really do care about my plants. I like them a lot. I think plants add texture and life to a room. I used to be so obsessed with them that I could hardly get out of Target without bringing home a new variety. Maybe it was that overkill that brought me to my current state.

So I want the plants to live, I know the plants need water, and yet I don’t water them. Is this a mental disorder?

The British are coming!

2008-11-07T22:21:00.001-06:00

Since the election, I’ve heard a lot of people talking about renewed pride in their country. That reminded me -- I’ve never been a sucker for patriotic emotion, but there is one patriotic song that’s been known to choke me up for some reason: Schoolhouse Rock’s “Shot Heard ’Round the World.” Go figure.

Fall in my front yard

2008-11-06T16:28:00.001-06:00

I love it

2008-11-05T09:49:00.003-06:00

I love that Barack Obama is going to be our next president. I love that children in America are going to grow up seeing a black family in the White House, a black man leading the nation. I’m really excited about the prospect of this presidency, the impact it will have on the U.S. and the world. A woman should be next. (But not Sarah Palin.)

But still, it wasn’t all roses last night. Two more states voted to ban same-sex marriages, and California’s Prop 8 is still undecided. And Arkansas passed a measure banning gay couples from adopting or becoming foster parents. How despicable.

That news is fucking depressing, so I’m trying not to think about it. I’m trying to focus on the change that’s coming, this defining moment in our history. As Arianna Huffington wrote last night, “tonight’s outcome is a declaration that we are once again a nation more driven by hope and promise than a nation driven by fear.” And I love that.

The big day

2008-11-04T17:30:00.001-06:00

And I’ve never been so jazzed about it. Even though I’m voting in solidly red Kansas, I felt really excited to cast my presidential vote. For the first time ever, I feel pretty confident that the best candidate will win the day. A very conservative acquaintance of mine predicted over coffee this afternoon that the race would go late into the night. I’m thinking this was wishful thinking on his part, but I’ll keep my fingers crossed this evening anyway.

Disappointment

2008-11-03T21:54:00.004-06:00

How is it possible that three days after Halloween all the half-price candy is gone? A rack of candy corn and a few wrinkly Peeps ghosts are all that’s left? I’m sorely disappointed in the store’s restraint in stocking Halloween candy.

I just encountered my first douchebag buyer on eBay, and I really could’ve used a fun-size Whoppers.

Hope triumphs

2008-11-02T19:02:00.001-06:00

Samuel Johnson supposedly said that a second marriage is the triumph of hope over experience. I feel the same way every time I plant a bush.

A long series of bushes and shrubs have bought the farm at my house, beginning with two barberry bushes in 2005. The only things I’ve been able to keep alive are a bunch of boring boxwoods. This time I’m taking a chance on two moonshadow euonymus. Godspeed, little bushes.

A story by my mom's cousin Diane

2008-11-01T23:00:00.001-05:00

(You'll have to imagine her two-packs-a-day voice and intermittent cackling.)

Hey, Joyce! Do you remember that time when I called you wanting to borrow some toilet paper? Do you remember that? Bob had to go to the bathroom, and we were out of toilet paper, so I called Joyce and asked her if I could borrow some from her. And she said, “Sure.” So I went over to Joyce’s, and she had just made some of those goddamn brownies. And she says, “Hey, do you want to have a brownie?” So I sit down and have a brownie, and we get to talking ... and pretty soon I realize, oh shit! Bob is at home on the toilet waiting on me to get the toilet paper!

So I rush home and tiptoe in -- and do you know Bob was sitting in there ASLEEP on the toilet! He was SLEEPING right there on the toilet! So I set down the toilet paper and go in the bedroom, real quietly, and put on my nightgown and get all ready for bed. And then I went in the bathroom -- after I caught my breath -- and I said, “Good God, Bob! Are you going to sit in there all night, or are you going to come to bed?” And he didn't even know I’d been gone all that time!

This makes me really happy

2008-10-23T19:57:00.000-05:00

Rush Limbaugh is a fucking idiot (and he’s not the only one)

2008-10-22T16:47:00.004-05:00

Rush Limbaugh’s insistence that Colin Powell’s endorsement of Barack Obama was “totally about race” has to be one of the most overtly racist arguments I’ve heard in a long time. Pat Buchanan gets thrown in the racist category, too, along with all the other conservative gasbags making that claim.

Yeah, General Powell probably makes all his decisions based on race. I’m sure it’s what made him spend decades working in the Republican Party in the first place.

And hey assholes, what about the scads of white Republicans who have endorsed Obama? Perhaps they’re all secretly black? Daily Kos has a nice photographic essay on this point.
*****
What I loved most about Colin Powell’s endorsement was what he said about the “Obama is a Muslim” rumors:

I’m also troubled by, not what Sen. McCain says, but what members of the party say, and it is permitted to be said. Such things as: “Well, you know that Mr. Obama is a Muslim.” Well, the correct answer is he is not a Muslim. He’s a Christian. He’s always been a Christian.

But the really right answer is: What if he is? Is there something wrong with being a Muslim in this country? The answer is: No, that’s not America. Is there something wrong with some 7-year-old Muslim-American kid believing he or she can be President?

I hear this point surprisingly rarely. Kudos to Powell for making it so well.

Go read this.

2008-10-17T10:27:00.004-05:00

Two weeks ago, an 82-year-old Texas woman named Helen wrote a post on her personal blog titled “Sarah Palin is a bitch ... there I said it.” Here's a taste:

“Look. I am going to say what everyone at CNN, CBS, ABC and NBC is thinking but is afraid to say. Governor Palin is a stupid, conniving bitch. And it’s not because she is a strong woman -- I like strong women… worship them… It’s actually the opposite. She is a weak, pathetic woman who thinks big hair, winking, baby talk and self deprecation is somehow becoming of a woman who wants to lead the free world. My god, where is Margaret Thatcher when you need her!”

She’s become a minor celebrity since -- her blog now has more than 320,000 hits. She has continued to post about the election, repeatedly calling “bullshit” on John McCain, referring to Sarah Palin as “Governor Good Hair from the North,” and emphasizing the absolute importance of this election. She’s a goddamn hoot.

Go check her out: margaretandhelen.wordpress.com

God bless the toilet

2008-10-16T12:03:00.003-05:00

A short break from all the politics to think about one of life's other burning matters.

Let's talk crap
Our frank interview about human waste may horrify you about how the world cleans itself down there.

Scary stuff

2008-10-14T14:00:00.000-05:00

Fantastic op-ed piece by Frank Rich: The Terrorist Barack Hussein Obama

And this, from a Palin rally in Pennsylvania:

Pay no attention to reality

2008-10-13T10:21:00.001-05:00

“Well, I’m very, very pleased to be cleared of any legal wrongdoing … any hint of any kind of unethical activity there. Very pleased to be cleared of any of that…. He did what any – I think — any rational person would do. So, again, nothing to apologize there with Todd’s actions and again very pleased to be cleared of any legal wrongdoing.”

— Sarah Palin

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Campaign 2008

2008-10-09T21:20:00.001-05:00

I know I’ve been posting a lot about presidential politics lately, which I understand can get old. It’s unusual for me, too, to be thinking and watching and reading so much about politics, which I’ve always found to be depressing in its divisive sliminess.

This year, though, I’m feeling different. I’m fascinated by it all. I’m engaged. Even four years ago, when I felt very strongly about the presidential election, it didn’t engage me like this one has. Maybe I just hadn’t yet been sufficiently horrified by the Bush administration. Or maybe it’s because of the slate of candidates this year.

I didn’t really pick a favorite in the primaries. I thought Obama and Clinton were both fantastic candidates. It’s a shame, in fact, that they had to run against each other. Seeing candidates out front that you really believe in can make a huge difference.

Then there’s the opposition. I’m so sick of the sneering contempt of John McCain and the know-nothing arrogance of Sarah Palin. I used to have a little respect for McCain, back when he opposed his party on the Bush tax cuts and drilling and especially torture. Now he’s trying to have it both ways: toeing the party line and still claiming the “maverick” label.

But others have said it more eloquently than I can — that’s why I’ve been posting so many links. Please bear with me. My appetite for this stuff is insatiable, and I have to stop myself from linking to every thoughtful analysis and apt comparison I read. I’ll almost be sad when this election season is over.

The Mavericks beg to differ

2008-10-09T08:39:00.003-05:00

Who You Callin' a Maverick?
The original mavericks, the Maverick family of Texas, apparently don't take too kindly to John McCain.

Rolling Stone on John McCain

2008-10-07T14:59:00.002-05:00

Indeed, many leading Republicans who once admired McCain see his recent contortions to appease the GOP base as the undoing of a maverick. "John McCain's ambition overrode his basic character," says Rita Hauser, who served on the President's Foreign Intelligence Advisory Board from 2001 to 2004. But the truth of the matter is that ambition is John McCain's basic character. Seen in the sweep of his seven-decade personal history, his pandering to the right is consistent with the only constant in his life: doing what's best for himself. To put the matter squarely: John McCain is his own special interest.

"John has made a pact with the devil," says Lincoln Chafee, the former GOP senator, who has been appalled at his one-time colleague's readiness to sacrifice principle for power. Chafee and McCain were the only Republicans to vote against the Bush tax cuts. They locked arms in opposition to drilling in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. And they worked together in the "Gang of 14," which blocked some of Bush's worst judges from the federal bench.

"On all three — sadly, sadly, sadly — McCain has flip-flopped," Chafee says. And forget all the "Country First" sloganeering, he adds. "McCain is putting himself first. He's putting himself first in blinking neon lights."

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Glenn Greenwald on Sarah Palin

2008-09-25T10:03:00.001-05:00

"Sarah Palin's performance in the tiny vignettes of unscripted dialogue in which we've been allowed to see her has been nothing short of frightening ... One of two things is absolutely clear at this point: she is either (a) completely ignorant about the most basic political issues -- a vacant, ill-informed, incurious know-nothing, or (b) aggressively concealing her actual beliefs about these matters because she's petrified of deviating from the simple-minded campaign talking points she's been fed and/or because her actual beliefs are so politically unpalatable, even when taking into account the right-wing extremism that is permitted, even rewarded, in our mainstream. I'm not really sure which is worse, but it doesn't really matter, because with 40 days left before the election, both options are heinous."

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A real peach

2008-09-02T18:47:00.000-05:00

My uncle Chuck's wife, Susie, passed away last week. She was funny and sassy and sweet. I'll miss her.

Susie had always been fascinating to me. She had been raised Amish in the little community southwest of Newton. She left that life when she married Chuck but remained very connected to her family there. I remember she said that she and Chuck had to sit at a separate non-Amish table at family gatherings.

Susie also had polio as a child, followed by a couple of botched surgeries as a teenager, and had to wear a leg brace to be able to walk. She had a very pronounced limp, and it took her a little longer to get in and out of cars, but it was never a big deal to her. She raised six kids, did all the cooking and cleaning in her old two-story house, did all the yard work and mowing, and worked in the catalog department at Sears for years. She was always in a good mood.

My parents and I visited Chuck and Susie practically every weekend when I was a kid. I sometimes ventured upstairs to play with their collection of great old toys, but I usually just sat and listened to the adult conversations. My mom and Susie became pretty close over the years. They always called each other "sis." I remember many conversations on the subject of Men, What Are They Good For? (Absolutely Nothing). They bonded as the long-suffering wives of often-selfish Gough men whom they loved in spite of their many flaws. It was a common theme. Also common was the latest gossip about the various "weird" members of the Gough clan, followed by unbridled laughter.

Susie took exceptional pride in her grandkids. She talked about them a lot, and her living room was filled with their photos. I think she was a fabulous grandma.

Susie and Chuck's middle daughter Cindy had gotten pregnant as a teenager and decided to give the baby boy up for adoption. Years later, as an adult, he contacted Cindy and became re-acquainted with the family. When he came out as gay a few years later, his adoptive parents turned him away. Susie was among the first to say he was welcome as a Gough. Hers was not the kind of love that came with restrictions, despite her conservative roots. (I remember her talking fondly about her grandson Scott and his boyfriend, whom she always described as "goooooooooood-lookin'.") Bigotry is often a generational thing, which makes me doubly proud of Aunt Susie. Scott sang a solo at her funeral.

My brother gave the eulogy, as he had at Chuck's funeral 10 years ago. He did a nice job, focusing on what made Susie special and well-loved. He talked about how she loved Coca-Cola and M&Ms and her grandkids and pristine flower beds and her dog, Freckles. He talked about her perfectly infectious laugh.

It was nice to see my dad's sisters and my scads of cousins, whom I sadly only seem to see at funerals. And it was neat to meet Susie's Amish relatives, all dressed alike, with their bonnets and beards. And her coffee klatch of Sears retirees. And her Sunday school class, "The Doers," who made us lunch. Absolutely all of them loved Susie. And so did I.

Talking myself into a blog

2008-08-21T16:02:00.004-05:00

So I've got this defunct blog that I'm not sure what to do with. Do I admit that blogging isn't for me and put it out of its misery? Is that better or worse than only posting once a month, if that?

For the past two months, I have purposefully not posted. I even had several ideas for posts recently and just let them die. I had "almost decided" to quit. It basically came down to a few things:

I think maybe about two people read this blog. Why bother spending time typing out my thoughts and anecdotes in a semi-literate way when I could just tell those people directly?

I'm not a born blogger. I tend to agonize over posts for some reason. Perhaps I'm going overboard because I hate the notion that nothing on the Internet needs to edited. Plus, I get blogger's block. A lot. I've tried all the writing prompts that are out there, but that always feels so forced and phony. I just don't find much in my life worth noting, and that makes for a pretty boring blog.

So many people are so much better at it. Fucking EVERYONE has a blog now. And a few of those people are really great at it. They write about their lives or various specific topics with humor and wit and insight, and they take often beautiful photos to go along with it. I feel silly and lame in comparison. Skilled bloggers can take a mundane moment, something I would deem "not worth noting" and turn it into a funny or moving or fascinating story that other people in front of their computers are interested in reading. I admire that. That's what I was going for on this blog in the first place, but I'm not sure I ever really hit it.

But maybe I'm overthinking the whole thing. Maybe it's just a fucking blog and I should just go with the flow. Post when I want, whatever I want. Stop worrying about whether it's "good" or who's going to read it. Yeah, maybe so.

I think we've got a digger

2008-05-28T00:36:00.002-05:00

Sympathy

2008-05-23T18:30:00.000-05:00

My next-door neighbor, the one with the bed and breakfast, died yesterday. He had cancer and had been sick for the past few weeks. He was 72.

His wife said her kids had been helping her prepare, get things settled. Her son bought her a little electric mower since the gas mower was too heavy for her. I'm sure she'll try to continue her husband's relentless maintenance of their yard and property.

She seems like the type of wife who let her husband handle all the "man jobs" around the house -- yard work, household maintenance, car maintenance, finances. I'm sure that's how things are for most couples of that generation. But it makes me a little worried for her. They had been married for almost 53 years. I can't imagine the emptiness she'll be feeling.

I wonder whether she'll continue to run the bed and breakfast. I imagine the frequent overnight guests, even strangers, might help fill the empty time and space.

I wish I could do something for her. When she told me and my mom about her husband's cancer, we went down to the nursery and bought her some geraniums. She accepted them with typical Mennonite stoicism. Then she planted them outside the living room window, where her husband could see them from his hospice bed.

Their house is full of people right now. They had four sons and 13 grandchildren. But none of them lives in town, so they'll soon clear out. And that's when I'll worry about her. I mean, clearly this is not a woman that I'm close to or that I even know very well. But her sheer proximity makes me feel a certain kinship.

Notes from the road

2008-05-07T16:20:00.001-05:00

A few noteworthy sights from recent Kansas travels. Wish I'd gotten pictures ...

A personalized tag that said "MILF." Now, according to the Department of Revenue, Kansas statute prohibits "combinations deemed, by the Director of Vehicles, to have a profane, vulgar, lewd, or indecent meaning or connotation." So you won't see any tags in our fine state that say 10INCHDK or FL8ME. Personally, I would find those kind of funny to see out on the highway somewhere, but it's OK. I understand why the state wants decent, G-rated plates. So what about MILF? What does the Director of Vehicles think that means? Monkeys I'd Like to Fight? Maid In a Lovely Frock? Man, I Love Frankfurters! So how did this presumably hot mama slip this one past the meticulously prudish Director of Vehicles?

A semi-trailer that said, in 2-foot-high red letters, "Jesus Christ is Lord - not a swear word." Holy shit, I thought. And what is Jesus Christ hauling today? That's all the truck said. Not even a trucking company name. So what, Bibles? Holy water? Sandals?

A bumper sticker that said, "I'm only speeding because I really have to poop." The driver of this car was a nondescript 20-something white guy, and he was, in fact, going about 15 mph over the speed limit. And I couldn't help but wonder whether he intended to drive that car to his first job interview. Whether he intended to park it in the lot of his employer and allow his boss and everyone else at the company to associate him with rushing home to poop. But perhaps that prospect sits OK with him.

New dog in town

2008-02-13T17:07:00.001-06:00

This is Oscar. He is a 1-year-old Westie/cairn mix.

Oscar's been living with us for two weeks. Here's what we know so far:

He gets along great with Maggie. They started wrestling and chasing each other around the house almost immediately.

He loves snow. He wants to roll around and bury his face in it.

He chews things. The tally so far is a newspaper, a bunch of mail, two houseplants, a paperback copy of "Into the Wild" and two pairs of shoes.

He suffers from "submissive urination." This means that if you scold him for something (like, say, chewing up your shoes), he pees a little. It's like a pathetic little apology. Somehow this does not cause me to be any less upset with him. Especially when I'm scolding him for being on the couch. The sad part is, this behavior probably means he was abused at some point in his life. The peeing is to show the alpha dog (i.e. human) that he is submissive. It's a last-ditch effort to avoid being attacked. I'm hoping he'll grow out of it as he gets more used to us.

He eats poop. Ewwww. I know this isn't uncommon among dogs, but this is my first experience with it. I tend not to be too prissy about dog things, but jeez, this dog wants to lick my face. The other day Oscar brought a half-chewed turd into the house and spit it out at my feet. Gosh, thanks.

He has a bit of a flatulence problem. (Boy, I'm really painting a lovely picture here, aren't I?) It's not the worst dog farting I've ever experienced, but, uh, it's not the best. I'm sure it'll be cropping up at inopportune and embarrassing times in the future.

So despite the body function issues, he's really super cute and a lot of fun. For instance, this kind of stuff happens several times a day:

For Charlie

2008-01-24T16:39:00.001-06:00

Have you seen this Pedigree commercial? Chokes me up every time.

Almost four years ago, Ben and I walked into the Topeka animal shelter and walked out with a little black mutt we called Charlie. And he was a good dog.

Charlie wasn’t sure about us at first. And I wasn’t too sure about him after he peed all over my house. When he lifted his leg on my new couch, that was it. I shut him in the spare bedroom when I went to work. When Ben got home that night, Charlie had nearly destroyed the bedroom door. Luckily our landlord never noticed. And luckily, Charlie got over the peeing thing.

Charlie never barked before we had Maggie. He made a groaning “arrrr” sound and a low “uh, uh, uh” when he wanted something. Later he would bark anytime Maggie did, even if he had no idea why she was barking.

We noticed right away that he was afraid of everything. Any moving object would take him by surprise and scare the crap out of him. He thought everything was going to hit him. He was also quite bad at predicting people’s movements. If he was in your direct path, he would walk backwards in fright until he hit the wall rather than step aside.

He loved our house in Lawrence. He loved sleeping on the couch when we weren’t looking. He loved roaming the jungle that was our back yard. He loved taking walks around the neighborhood. He loved Lucy, the chocolate Lab who lived next door.

Charlie’s favorite spot in our old house was on the toilet rug in the tiny bathroom. If we ever didn’t know where he was, he was usually on the toilet rug. It was the only time he wasn’t relentlessly following us around.

Just a few days after we got him, I took Charlie to the dog park with Kim and her dogs. We walked around the park, and Charlie mainly stayed on the path with Kim and me, while Mabel and Rupert went gallivanting off in the wilderness. Then, just as we were about to get back in the car, Charlie took off running down the road. I ran after him, shouting his name, which he didn’t know yet. (This was also before we knew he was almost deaf.) He kept on running. Eventually, some very considerate people driving by stopped their car and caught him. We didn’t let him off his leash again until three years later. He stayed right with us. It was Maggie we wound up chasing for 20 minutes.

Charlie didn’t much like the move to Newton. He expressed his feelings by peeing all over the new house, too. He moped, he was agitated. It took him a while to adjust. He did enjoy, however, the almost daily trips to Grandma’s house, which involved not only a car ride but also treats and a huge back yard -- sometimes with dead, stinky things in it. And also Valerie, who adored him. She showed this by hugging and squeezing and petting and patting and dragging him all over the place. He was afraid of her but was endlessly patient and good.

After a few months, we started thinking about getting another dog. Maybe Charlie would feel better, we thought, if he had a little friend around when we weren’t there. Maybe he wouldn’t follow us around so desperately.

So we went out and found Maggie, another little black mutt. And then I felt horribly guilty.

Maggie was a menace. She bossed Charlie around from the first moment. She had to be the first down the stairs, the first to get a treat, the first through every doorway. One day right at first, Ben was petting Charlie and she leaped in and bit Charlie. Charlie walked around the house looking dejected, as if we had ruined his life. It was heartbreaking. Poor Charlie.

And then things settled down. They got used to each other. They still fought for petting, but there was no biting, just jockeying for position. Maggie got Charlie to start playing with her, something Ben and I had never been able to accomplish. And Charlie did stop following us around so pathetically. And he did seem less lonely when we were gone.

They even came to love each other, I think. They ate out of the same bowl, sometimes at the same time. They often slept side by side on their blanket. Charlie, who would leap in the air if one of us stepped on his tail, didn’t bat an eye when Maggie did it.

In September of last year, we took the dogs in for their annual exams. Charlie, who had always weighed between 19 and 20 pounds, was now 15.7 pounds. He also had a tumor in his ear canal.

The next time we brought Charlie in, to get his teeth cleaned and a biopsy, he was 15.1 pounds. The tumor was benign, but then a series of digestive problems began that had me in and out of the vet’s office every few weeks. And Charlie didn’t want to eat. He was less and less interested in food, even his favorites. We fed him several times a day, pleading with him to eat just a few bites. The dog who used to snatch food from our fingers with such gusto now just sniffed indifferently. It was so strange. Charlie seemed otherwise healthy. All his tests came back clear.

Charlie always loved food. And he could be quite sneaky about it. One day I was sitting on the floor eating a bowl of soup and some bread. Charlie waited until I had my bowl in one hand and my drink in the other, then sneaked up and grabbed the bread off my plate. Another time I got up to answer the phone and returned to find him greedily lapping up my White Russian. The only time he ever bit anyone was when I tried to take a tortilla away from him.

But now he was uninterested in canned dog food, and only slightly more interested in people food. We assumed it was related to the digestive problem. So we kept treating that, and Charlie kept refusing to eat. He was getting weaker. The stairs were hard for him. He seemed stiff and unsteady on his feet.

We’d had health scares with Charlie before. He had vestibular disorder a couple of years ago, which caused him to stumble around, vomit and tilt his head to one side. That required a late-night trip to the emergency vet. Then last year he had an intestinal obstruction after swallowing a big piece of rawhide. More vomiting, more trips to the vet. In both cases, Charlie pulled himself through with minimal treatment.

This time, though, nothing seemed to be helping. At his next appointment, Charlie was 13.8 pounds. He was having trouble walking. He couldn’t jump up into the car. He felt bony and emaciated. All his tests were still clear. The next day, he completely stopped eating and drinking.

On Wednesday, Ben took Charlie to K-State. The whole team of vets examined him, giving him X-rays, every blood test, an eye exam, you name it. In the end, they said he might have a thyroid problem, which would explain the lack of appetite, the weakness, the weight loss, and which would be easily treatable with medication. Or he might have something wrong with his brain. We would find out Thursday afternoon.

But K-State didn’t call Thursday. In the meantime, Charlie was worse. He was stumbling in circles, falling to the side. I didn’t want to admit it, but I could see what was coming.

On Friday morning, Charlie couldn’t walk at all. He seemed only half-conscious. We called K-State, and the doctor told us what we already suspected: It was almost certainly a brain tumor. Charlie probably wouldn’t make it through the weekend. We knew we should let him go quickly, without any more suffering.

His little body was so frail and tired. I knew he was ready to go. But it absolutely broke my heart to say goodbye.

Sometimes it seems strange to me that we invite these little furry animals into our homes to live with us. But wow, the love that is given and received is really remarkable. I dearly loved that little guy, and I know he loved us. I miss him so much.

I know that soon we’ll be heading back out to the animal shelters. We’ll never replace our Charlie, but I know there’s another good dog out there for us to love.

Catching up

2008-01-06T16:11:00.001-06:00

My, how the blogging ideals of November have passed. The holidays are a busy time, sure, but my slacking has been egregious.

You might think a weekend jaunt to New York City would merit at least a mention on the blog. And hosting my first-ever family Christmas dinner you might think would be noteworthy. But you’d be wrong, apparently. You’ll get neither of those.

One of my Christmas gifts, though, was a new scanner. So now I’m able to go slightly farther back in time to bring you my grandpa (far right) and his siblings, circa 1925:

My dad as a baby with his sister Toby, circa 1931:

My dad on a motorcycle, somewhere in Asia in the 1950s:

And my dad (back row, second from right) and his siblings, circa 1965:

Language barrier

2007-12-20T11:22:00.000-06:00

Shopping for mascara with my mom:

Mom: What's the deal with all the blacks? Black, soft black, very black ... black negro?!?

Me: That's Spanish, Mom. Negro is Spanish for black.

Mom: Well, they better be careful.

Oh, my darlin’

2007-12-03T22:38:00.001-06:00

Hallelujah, the clementines are back.

A more satisfying fruit is hard to imagine. They’re so wonderfully sweet, so exceptionally juicy. So fantastically easy to peel. It’s like eating sunshine.

I didn’t eat many oranges as a kid. My mom’s fruit shopping was generally limited to bananas, apples and grapes, with the occasional grapefruit. The arrival of the clementines makes me a little sad that I didn’t get to enjoy them in my childhood.

My excitement over the citrus fruit really demanded that I post about it. For something more substantial, though, go read kc’s beautiful fruit post. Then go buy some clementines. You won’t be sorry.

A little holiday cheer

2007-11-30T22:58:00.001-06:00

Well, November is over; time to gear up for Christmas. I finally put up my tree tonight. (Boy, you really cannot get a good photo of a Christmas tree, can you?)

See how unnaturally triangular it is? That's why I'm thinking about getting a new one. Maybe I'll check the after-Christmas sales. I'm also using my mom's old multi-colored lights, and I think I would prefer all white. Something to consider for next year.

If you're wondering about those critters under the tree, here you go: They wish you a merry Christmas.

Broadcast news

2007-11-29T21:29:00.000-06:00

Fresh from a three-day PIO training focused heavily on media relations, today I put my learning to use. A bunch of "concerned citizens" met tonight at the VFW to plan some kind of resistance to the smoking ban. So a reporter from Channel 12 came calling, hoping to get reaction from City Hall.

Before she arrived, I tried to prep my boss on what points to make and how to use "bridging" techniques. If you don't like the reporter's question, just go back to the points you do want to make. "What we really want to focus on is..." "I think the important thing to remember is..." "Let me answer you by saying that..."

And he did well. He did what I told him. There was only one deer-in-the-headlights moment. (The reporter asked him how it made him feel that the citizens were rallying. He stared blankly at her for a while and then said, "I'm the city manager. How I feel is irrelevant." But eventually he was able to pull through.) I'll have to wait until 10 before I see how they decided to edit his comments, but I feel pretty good that I helped him not to completely crash and burn.

***

UPDATE: Ugh! They didn't use the interview at all! Oh well, at least it was good practice.

Christmas crazies (a few blocks down)

2007-11-28T21:40:00.001-06:00

Sarcasm Inc.

2007-11-27T08:10:00.000-06:00

Some people in my office have the annoying habit of using sarcasm to point out that I'm quiet at work and indifferent to much of what goes on around there:

"Hey, could you keep it down in here? We're trying to get some work done."

"Hey, calm down. You don't have to get so excited about it."

And I guess I'm expected to laugh at these remarks. I'm not sure what the intention is. The comments certainly don't encourage me to change my attitude or behavior.

I would never say that kind of thing to someone at work. Possibly because I'm the quiet, indifferent type. But how would they like it if I started popping my head into their offices?

"Hey, could you quit being so considerate of those around you?"

"Hey, could you spread gossip and backstab everyone a little more?"

"Hey, could you complain some more about your pathetic life?"

Dried out

2007-11-26T22:29:00.000-06:00

Products I'm thankful for as the seasons change:

L'Occitane Shea Butter Hand Cream
Rich, creamy, not oily or greasy, and smells heavenly. It's a splurge for the winter months.

Olay Night of Olay Firming Cream
I can't really tell whether I'm getting any firmer, but I wanted a night cream that was really thick and moisturizing. This fits the bill.

Burt's Bees Beeswax Lip Balm
I'm a connoisseur of lip balms, and this is my favorite. Not everyone loves the peppermint oil. Ben says it burns, and my mom insists it has menthol in it and it's making her chapped lips worse. But I love the cool, tingly feeling.

Another stitching update

2007-11-25T08:54:00.001-06:00

This my latest stitching project. I think it’s going to wind up being a bell pull for my mom, possibly for Christmas if I get it done in time.

I did finally finish the Cinderella shirt. I’ll try to get a picture of the little princess wearing it.

Where I live

2007-11-24T18:40:00.001-06:00

Three years ago, I moved back to my hometown and became a homeowner for the first time. We bought this 1910 bungalow in a historic neighborhood close to downtown.

It’s not fancy, and it still needs some work, but I love this house. Here are a few things I love about it:

The doors

The door knobs

The dining room corner shelf

The heat registers

The cut-glass windows

The crown molding

The living room

The open staircase

The kitchen windows

My bedroom

The bathroom (This striped wallpaper, by the way, will soon be on its way out.)

Turn, turn, turn

2007-11-23T21:51:00.000-06:00

Two of the first signs of winter have arrived: the first snowfall and my first head cold.

Last winter was just a blur of coughing and sneezing for me, so I am really lamenting this first virus of the year. My immune system really let me down last year, but I'm hoping maybe this year will be better. If anyone has any health advice, I'm all ears. Actually, I'm all throbbing sinus, but I'll still take the advice.

Unconventional Thanksgiving

2007-11-22T23:56:00.000-06:00

It was a successful holiday for my family. Lots of food and conversation, no tears or emotional outbursts. We did the Rec Center Thanksgiving again this year, which I’m beginning to think is a good idea. It’s a neutral location. And the kids get to swim after lunch, which is a highlight for everybody.

My nephews Nick and Derek beating each other senseless

My niece Valerie

My niece Maddie and sister Terri

New ornaments

2007-11-21T23:42:00.001-06:00

A sweet fall

2007-11-20T20:48:00.000-06:00

The weather has been crazy here lately. Sunny, highs in the 70s. Then, at 4 p.m. today, boom! It was 45 degrees, windy and dark. And it felt overwhelmingly like fall.

One great thing about the holidays is that it puts me in the mood to bake. It’s something I always enjoy, but I just don’t take the time to do it on a regular basis.

I generally bring dessert items to our holiday get-togethers. Other females in the family seem to have the other courses covered. And you can never have too many desserts.

Here are a couple of recipes I’m considering for Thanksgiving:

Pumpkin Cream Sandwiches
from Real Simple

3 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature
1/3 cup brown sugar
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup canned pumpkin puree
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 large egg
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
2/3 cup cream cheese, at room temperature
1/4 cup heavy cream

Heat oven to 375° F.

Beat the butter, brown sugar, and granulated sugar in the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with a paddle attachment until smooth. Add the pumpkin, vanilla, and egg and beat until combined.

Combine the flour, baking powder, baking soda, pumpkin pie spice, and salt in a medium bowl. Slowly add the flour mixture to the sugar and butter and beat on medium-low speed until fully incorporated. Spoon heaping tablespoons of the mixture 2 inches apart onto parchment- or foil-lined baking sheets. Bake until puffed and cooked through, about 10 minutes. Let cool for 5 minutes.

Clean the mixer, then, as the cookies bake, beat the cream cheese, heavy cream, and confectioners sugar until smooth and spreadable. Spread the flat sides of half the cooled cookies with the cream mixture. Top with the remaining cookies.

Tip: The cookies can be made up to 3 days in advance and kept in an airtight container. Whip the filling and assemble the sandwiches no more than 2 hours before serving.

Citrus-Cranberry Pound Cake
from inmamaskitchen.com

3 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup butter, softened
2 tablespoons orange zest
1 tablespoon lemon zest
2 cups sugar, divided
6 large eggs, separated
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 (8-ounce) container sour cream
2 (8-ounce) packages fresh or frozen cranberries, thawed

Orange glaze
2 tablespoons sugar
3 tablespoons orange juice

Orange icing
1 cup powdered sugar
1 1/2 to 2 tablespoons orange juice

Preheat oven to 350°F. Grease and flour a 10- x 3 1/2-inch bundt pan. Turn pan over, and tap around the edges so there is no excess flour.

Sift together flour, baking soda and salt. Set aside.

Working with an electric mixer set on medium-high, cream together butter, orange zest, and 1 3/4 cups sugar until mixture if light and fluffy. Add egg yolks, 2 at a time, beating just until blended after each addition. Add vanilla, and beat, again just until blended.

Set mixer speed on low and add flour mixture to butter mixture alternately with sour cream. Start and end with flour mixture. Set aside.

In a separate bowl, with mixer set on high, beat egg whites until foamy. Gradually add remaining 1/4 cup sugar, and continue beating until stiff peaks form.

Fold one-third of the egg whites into cake batter. Fold in remaining egg whites until almost incorporated; fold in cranberries.

Transfer batter to prepared bundt pan. Bake in preheated oven 350°F (325°F if using a dark pan) for 55 to 65 minutes or until a tester inserted in center comes out clean. Cool in pan on wire rack 10 minutes.

Turn cake out onto a wire rack, and place over a baking sheet. Brush cake with warm glaze. Allow glazed cake to cool completely then spoon icing over cake, allowing icing to drip down the sides. Allow icing to set before serving cake.

GLAZE: Combine sugar and orange juice in a small sauce pan. Cook over medium heat until sugar completely dissolves.

ICING: Whisk together orange juice and powdered sugar. The icing should be thick but fluid.

My friend the online auction

2007-11-19T23:10:00.001-06:00

My first eBay purchase was in 1997, when I bought a vintage "Welcome Back, Kotter" notebook. Unfortunately, rather than framing it or something, I used it at school until it fell apart. I loved it too much not to use it.

I've made a lot of eBay purchases since then. (And lost quite a few items I was furiously bidding on.) Here is a sample of some of my more recent auction wins:

Vintage tea set and some Fiesta pieces

Vintage Fenton ruffle bowl, compote, candleholder

19th-century German botanical print

Strange palm-leaf bookends

1940s Redoute botanical prints

Sterling silver green onyx pendant

Print made from antique KU flag

1940s postcard from my hometown. I bought several different ones and framed them in my office.
I also once bought a 1936 WPA poster from a barbershop concert in New York for Ben and an 1877 French botanical orchid print for KC.

eBay is thrilling to me just because of the incredible variety of stuff available. It's fascinating, really. And bargains! I don't think I paid more than $20 for any of this stuff.

KC interviews me

2007-11-17T21:41:00.001-06:00

What is the first book you loved with all your heart?
“A Prayer for Owen Meany” by John Irving. I read it first in high school and absolutely adored it. I loved the characters, the themes of fate and faith, the emotional climax. It’s the only book I’ve ever read more than twice.

In what way are you most like your mom? Your dad?
In common with my mom: optimistic, forthright, neat, practical, tenacious

In common with my dad: logical, detail-oriented, technically savvy, lazy, procrastinator, moody

What’s a trait that your mom and dad have that you don’t but would like to?
They’re both outgoing. They could never understand how they got such a shy kid. I remember when I was a kid, my mom used to try to give me lessons on being more friendly, etc. It never worked. I don’t make friends easily, and I’m uncomfortable in a lot of social situations. The total opposite of my parents.

Name a painting you really adore. It doesn’t have to be your “favorite,” just one you adore.

“Soul of the Rose” by J.W. Waterhouse

If your house were a huge mess and your mom said she was coming over in 10 minutes, what would you spend that 10 minutes doing?
Cleaning up the stuff she would see first. Definitely the kitchen and dining room. Putting dishes away, wiping the counter, throwing stuff in the closet and shutting the door.

In which setting do you think you’d be most likely to have a religious experience: a Medieval convent in the Alps; an ashram in Calcutta; a monastery in Tibet, a fundamentalist retreat in West Virginia.
Ashram in Calcutta

When was the first time you realized that adults were full of shit?
Probably when my parents were divorcing. That’s when I realized how easy they were to manipulate, and also that what they said was not always how they really felt. I remember once telling them, when they were in the middle of an argument, “I think you’re both ridiculous.”

Name five things in your kitchen that you never use.
1. Egg separator
2. Stand mixer my grandma gave me four years ago
3. Bundt cake pan
4. Knorks
5. Kitchen table

Have you ever had an experience that you would describe as “supernatural”?
No. That’s a boring answer, but I really can’t think of one.

Name one country on each of these continents that you’d most like to visit, with a one-sentence explanation why: Asia, Africa, South America, Europe.
Asia: Japan. The history, the culture, the art. I would say China, but I just couldn’t stomach giving my tourism dollars to that country.

Africa: Egypt. The history, culture, ancient civilization, the desert, the Nile. Canary Islands are also very appealing.

South America: A tough one. I’m very attracted to the southern countries, especially Chile. Maybe because of its long, narrow geography. Also the mountains, the coastline, the glaciers, Easter Island. Brazil has rainforests, though, which is awesome.

Europe: Greece. The history, culture, art, the Mediterranean, the Greek Isles. Runners-up: Naples, Scotland

What do you think is the most common misconception people have about you?
That I’m really nice, that I don’t curse, that I go to church, that I’m a pushover.

What ancient civilization most fascinates you?
China. I love the dynastic history. (I’m fascinated by all the ancient civilizations, though, just so you know.)

Name a food you have never tried but would like to.
Wow, I really can’t think of one. Generally I try things if I want to. Maybe you should suggest something.

What separates the women from the girls?
Common sense.

Five things I’m thinking about

2007-11-16T21:54:00.000-06:00

1. Can’t we just skip Thanksgiving this year? There’s been so much turmoil in my family this year, it’s ridiculous. I’m honestly thinking about not attending the get-together, but it would be so much less messy if the whole country could just forgo Turkey Day this year. That way I wouldn't have to see my family but I also wouldn't look like a jerk.

2. Christmas, though, is fine. Christmas shopping, anyway. I’m going to have to be careful this year because I’m already going nuts for Christmas shopping. I love buying presents. Have I mentioned how I love shopping?

3. I can’t get enough Brussels sprouts. I filled up on them for dinner, but I can’t stop thinking about the leftovers sitting in the fridge right now.

4. One of my co-workers was anonymously insulted on the newspaper’s online forum today. He spent much of the day trying to figure out who might have done it. It could have been anyone. It was obviously someone familiar with him. We spent much of the day trying not to laugh as he went around asking, “Do I make people mad? Do people not like me?”

5. This is a new low. As if last weekend’s meme weren’t enough, I’ve now written a “random thoughts” post. I can’t believe it. There is a downside to NaBloPoMo.

Sellout

2007-11-15T22:29:00.000-06:00

Apparently I’ve become a Young Professional. I don’t know how it happened. And I’m really not that thrilled about it. I mean, do a Google image search for “young professionals.” I don’t want to be one of those people.

But here I am, a member of the steering committee for the new Young Professionals Group. I got roped into it, basically, by the Chamber of Commerce staff. It’s the kind of thing I would ordinarily hate. For one thing, it involves a lot of “networking,” which is a type of shallow social interaction that I generally try to avoid at all costs.

But there I was at 5 p.m. today, pulling into the Sports Grill & Bar parking lot for an after-hours mixer.

And something bizarre happened when I went in. I talked to several people. And I dominated the conversations. I even wondered as I left whether I’d talked too much. And I hadn’t even had a drink!

So, maybe I’ve sold out and become one of them. But I want you all to launch some kind of intervention if I start using the business and management jargon. Phrases to watch out for: “think outside the box,” “what you bring to the table,” “take it to the next level,” “visioning.”

Erin's 2nd birthday

2007-11-14T22:14:00.000-06:00

Clear the air

2007-11-13T21:37:00.000-06:00

This is only tangentially related to food, but it's timely.

After much equivocating and bickering over details, the City Commission finally passed a smoking ban tonight. In the end, they passed a total ban, no exceptions. Hurrah.

Toward the end of the discussion, the VFW crowd in the audience started calling the commissioners dictators. The commissioners stared at them in silence for a moment, and then my brother-in-law said, "I move for the adoption of the Clean Air Ordinance."

It's a good day for my hometown.

Old fart peeve of the day
Have you noticed how all the young people now are saying def instead of definitely? As in, "I am def going to that concert next weekend" or "I will def be sorry tomorrow." Oh, how I hate this.

Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo

2007-11-12T20:48:00.000-06:00

I'd thought I'd deviate a bit from the schedule and do a cross stitching update.

I'm doing this Cinderella for my niece Maddie's 3rd birthday. She has a real Cinderella fixation right now. You should hear her sing "Oh, Sing Sweet Nightingale." It's unbelievable.

I've been really slow lately, though, and Cinderella is not quite ready for the ball, so I have to get a move on. Once again this year -- even after I thought I had planned way ahead -- I am not going to get my Christmas gift projects done. Oh well. Maybe I will just do them anyway and make them random gifts. It's frustrating to me to have a stack of projects I want to do. They take so freakin' long. I wish I had a fairy godmother.

A clean slate

2007-11-11T21:38:00.000-06:00

Last week, there was a house here.

It was a big, old house. Over 2,000 square feet, built in 1900. It had been abused for most of its lifetime, I think. In its final years, it had missing windows, exposed interior walls, gaping holes patched with various inadequate materials. A couple of walls were noticeably tilting, giving the impression that it was ready to fall down at any moment.

It did fall down, last week, with the help of bulldozers and cranes. When the owners were faced with impending condemnation from the city, they sold the property to the next-door neighbor, and a month later, the land is clear. The new owner said he intended to maintain the lot as green space.

This is two blocks from where I live. We used to walk by the dilapidated house whenever we walked the dogs. It was depressing. Now, seeing the fresh soil on the cleared lot, I feel refreshed. It's beautiful. I can feel the whole neighborhood breathing a sigh of relief.

100 things about me that will tell you nothing about me

2007-11-10T15:01:00.000-06:00

My apologies. I'm blanking on Self-portrait Saturday, and I'm a bit short on time. I generally hate these blog meme things, but I thought this one had a few interesting elements.

1. Are you an innie or an outie? Innie.
2. Have you ever worn bell-bottoms? I believe they're called "flares" these days, and yes, I've worn them. But I've never felt completely comfortable in them.
3. Have you ever written a song? No, that's totally beyond me. When I was about 10, I tried to write a novel in the style of "Sweet Valley High." That didn't work out either.
4. Can you make change for a dollar right now? Absolutely.
5. Have you ever been in the opposite sex's public toilet? Yes. Let's leave it at that.
6. Have you ever smelled your own feet? On occasion.
7. Do you like ketchup on or beside your French fries? On the side, for sure. No soggy fry for me.
8. Can you touch your tongue to your nose? Sure.
9. Have you ever been a boy/girl scout? No, my mom wouldn't let me. She advised that I would hate being a Brownie, and I took her word for it.
10. Have you ever broken a mirror? I don’t recall.
11. Have you ever put your tongue on a frozen pole? No, the thought is still kind of terrifying to me.
12. What is your biggest pet peeve? Wow. This could be a whole post. I'm not sure I could pick a "biggest." Various kinds of bad grammar, micro-managing, people who drive enormous cars for no reason, people who put two spaces after periods.
13. Do you slurp your drink after it's gone? You mean with a straw? Sometimes, if it's super delicious and it won't be conspicuous. I also have a tendency to slurp when I'm drinking pop from a can. I don't know why. I've drawn stares at work.
14. Have you ever blown bubbles in your milk? No, I hate bubbles in my milk. I try to avoid them.
15. Would you rather eat a Big Mac or a Whopper? Bleh.
16. Have you ever gone skinny-dipping? No, but I'd love to!
17. When you are at the grocery store, do you ask for paper or plastic? Plastic, if I can't remember to bring my canvas bags, and I often can't.
18. True or False: You would rather eat steak than pizza. Depends on the steak, depends on the pizza.
19. Did you have a baby blanket? Not a security blanket that I dragged around. I had my trusty thumb for security. (Sucked it until first grade.)
20. Have you ever tried to cut your own hair? I used to cut my own bangs, back when I had bangs.
21. Have you ever sleepwalked? Not exactly. There have been a couple of times when I got out of bed because I was sure there was a giant spider on the wall that I needed to kill or because I thought something was wrong with the dogs. Then I wake up and realize I was dreaming it and get back in bed.
22. Have you ever had a birthday party at McDonalds? I think I did once. Other venues included Dairy Queen, the skating rink and the bowling alley.
23. Can you flip your eye-lids up? Why would I do that?
24. Are you double jointed? I'm not clear on what this means. I can rotate my elbows in a way that others have said is unusual.
25. If you could be any age, what age would you be? Doesn't make much difference to me. No younger than I am, though.
26. Have you ever gotten gum stuck in your hair? Not that I recall.
27. Have you ever thrown-up after a roller coaster ride? No, but I had to stop a Tilt-a-Whirl once. I knew I was going to puke, so I screamed until the operator turned it off so I could get out.
28. What is your dream car? I don't much dream about cars anymore. I'd like something small and reliable that gets good gas mileage.
29. What is your favorite cartoon of all time? School House Rock!
30. Would you go swimming in shallow waters where, one year earlier, a shark had attacked a child? Maybe, but I'm a little scared of the ocean.
31. How many cavities do you have? A few, I'm not sure.
32. Have you ever eaten a dog biscuit? Yes. It didn't taste like much.
33. If you were in a car sinking in a lake, what would you do first? Take off my seat belt.
34. Have you ever ridden in an ambulance? Only once, when I was doing a ride-along with the fire/EMS guys. I felt rather awkward sitting back there with the injured people.
35. Can you pick something up with your toes? Ha! I could fold laundry with my toes.
36. How many remote controls do you have in your house? Five.
37. Have you ever fallen asleep in school? I nodded off a time or two.
38. How many times have you flown in an airplane in the last year? Six total.
39. How many foreign countries have you visited? None, unfortunately.
40. If you were out of shape, would you compete in a triathlon if you were somehow guaranteed to win a big, gaudy medal? If I were out of shape? Hehe. No, I don't need no stinkin' medals.
41. Would you rather be rich and unhappy, or poor and happy? How silly. Happy, of course.
42. If you fell into quicksand, would you try to swim or try to float? Float, right? Stuggling makes it worse?
44. Do you ask for directions when you are lost? Only if I can't figure it out on my own.
45. Have you ever had a Mexican jumping bean? No, what are those anyway?
46. Are you more like Cinderella or Alice in Wonderland? Cinderella, I guess. I'm not much for curiosity.
47. Would you rather have an ant farm with no ants or a box of crayons with broken points? Crayons, for sure. I could watch ants for a few minutes, but I could color all day.
48. Do you prefer light or dark bread? Does this mean white or wheat? Whole wheat, preferrably.
49. Do you prefer scrambled or fried eggs? Fried, usually.
50. Have you ever been in a car that ran out of gas? I once ran out on my way home from work in 100-degree heat. Too bad the car couldn't run on my sweat.
51. Do you talk in your sleep? I've been told that I do. Nothing that can be understood. My college roommate said I mostly spoke French in my sleep.
52. Would you rather shovel snow or mow the lawn? Mow the lawn. I despise shoveling snow.
53. Would you rather be bitten by a poisonous snake or constricted by a python? What lovely options. Bitten, I guess.
54. Have you ever played in the rain? I don't think so. I have a thing about rain touching my face.
55. Which do you think is more dangerous: an angry bear or a hungry white shark? Bear.
56. Would you climb a very high tree to save a kitten? Maybe. Do fire departments do that kind of thing anymore?
57. Can you tell the difference between a crocodile and an alligator? Only if I had pictures of them side by side.
58. Do you drink Pepsi or Coke? Pepsi.
59. What’s your favorite number? Three. It's a magic number.
60. If you were a car, would you be an SUV or a sports car? I'd be a Prius or something.
61. Have you ever accidentally taken something from a hotel? Accidentally? No.
62. Would you blow your nose at the dinner table? Yuck, no.
63. Have you ever slipped in the bathtub? I've stumbled and bobbed but never gone down.
64. Do you use regular or deodorant soap? Regular, I think.
65. Have you ever locked yourself out of the house? No, but I've locked myself out of my car a couple of times. That was fun.
66. Would you rather make your living as a singing cowboy or as one of the Simpsons’ voices? Simpsons voice might be one of the best jobs ever.
67. If you could invite any celebrity to your home for dinner, who would it be? Rosie O'Donnell.
68. Have you ever gotten a truck driver to honk his horn? When I was a kid.
69. Which would you rather live with: a huge nose or crossed eyes? Big nose. A great nose indicates a great man -- genial, courteous, intellectual, virile, courageous -- as I am.
70. Would you hang out with someone your best friend didn't like? Depends on why she didn't like them.
71. Would you hang out with someone your best friend liked, but you didn't like? If she wanted me to.
72. Have you ever returned a gift? Not that I recall.
73. Would you give someone else a gift that had been given to you? Sure, if it were better suited to them than to me.
74. If you could attend an Olympic Event, what would it be? Short-track speed skating.
75. How many pairs of shoes do you own? 25.
76. If your grandmother gave you a gift that you already have, would you tell her? No, definitely not.
77. Do you sing in the car? Of course. Loudly.
78. Would you rather jump into a Dumpster or into a vat of honey? Dumpster.
79. What is your favorite breed of dog? I love them all! I guess I especially enjoy dachshunds, corgis, English bulldogs, chow chows, cairn terriers, scotties, westies...
80. Would you donate money to feed starving animals in the winter? What starving animals? I would donate money to animal shelters (and have).
81. If you were a bicycle, would you be a Sting-Ray or a mountain bike? Probably a Sting-Ray. I'm not very rugged.
82. What is your least favorite fruit? I don't know. I really like fruit.
83. What kind of fruit have you never had? Those things with all the spikes.
84. If you won a $5,000 shopping spree to any store, which store would you pick? Nebraska Furniture Mart.
85. What brand sports apparel do you wear the most? Hehe. I don't wear "sports apparel."
86. Are/were you a good student? Very.
87. Among your friends, who could you arm wrestle and beat? Hmmm ... maybe my mom.
88. If you had to choose, what branch of the military would you be in? Marine Corps. Semper Fi.
89. Would you ever parachute out of a plane? Sure, if someone else were paying for it.
90. What do you think is your best feature? My ebullient personality.
91. If you were to win a grammy, what kind of music would it be for? Maybe jazz.
92. What is your favorite season? Early autumn, before it gets too cold.
93. How many members do you have in your immediate family? Eight (mom, dad, siblings).
94. Which of the five senses is most important to you? Sight.
95. Would you be a more successful painter or singer? Toss up. I'd most likely suck at either.
97. How many years will/did you end up going to college? Three and a half.
98. Have you ever had surgery? Only if you count having my wisdom teeth removed.
99. Would you rather be a professional figure skater or professional football player? Skater. I like skating. And I'm pretty scared of being tackled.
100. What do you like to collect? I have a modest collection of Fenton art glass. Also I seem to collect lipstick that looks terrible on me and necklaces I'll never wear.

Five tips on customer service

2007-11-09T23:00:00.000-06:00

toothpastefordinner.com
1. If you say you’re going to call me back, please do. If you have no intention of calling me back, don’t tell me you will. Your lies only make me hate you more later.

2. Don’t talk to me like I'm stupid. It’s your job to memorize your company policies, not mine.

3. When something is your fault, admit it. At least pretend to be sorry that you screwed up my order/made me wait/didn’t solve my problem. I prefer a fake apology to sincere indifference.

4. Don’t pass me off to some flunky. I called you for a reason. The flunky doesn’t know what I want. You might think you’re too busy or important to deal with me, but you’re not.

5. Don’t ignore me while you chat with your co-workers. Especially don’t do it if I can see you. I will stare at you from the other side of the counter with growing contempt for you and everyone you know.

The cafe

2007-11-08T20:04:00.001-06:00

I discovered Cafe Press several years ago. It seemed to be mostly a collection of weird T-shirts that no one but their creators would ever want to buy. My, how times have changed.

Cafe Press is huge now. They have everything. And some people have made full-time jobs out of their Cafe Press shops.

In case you’re unfamiliar with the site, anyone can upload a graphic or photo and market it on T-shirts, mugs, buttons, notecards, stickers, hats, magnets, aprons, thongs ... etc. You can then purchase your creations or just put them out there for the general public.

You can find some pretty neat stuff. Last year I bought this magnet for my favorite copy chief:

And I got this T-shirt for my favorite coonhound:

It’s fascinating to see the designs people have uploaded. Some of it is really creative and thoughtful and hilarious and touching. And some of it is stupid and offensive and pornographic. And some of it is misspelled.

I also find it fascinating to see what the best-selling designs are. This is the overall top-seller right now:

The top-selling dog T-shirt:

The top-selling kids T-shirt:

The top-selling adult T-shirt:

The top-selling button:

The top-selling sticker:

The top-selling mug:

And the top-selling hat:

I guess Ron Paul fans don’t wear hats.

I’m happy to see that people are becoming more civic-minded as the election year approaches. The best-selling designs were much sketchier a few months ago. Seriously, does the world really need 2,000 milf shirts?

R.I.P.

2007-11-07T22:14:00.001-06:00

Three good recipes

2007-11-06T18:13:00.002-06:00

One of my favorite stand-by dinners:

Pan-Browned Brussels Sprouts
Gourmet, April 1999

1/2 pound Brussels sprouts
2 large garlic cloves
1 1/2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 tablespoons pine nuts

Trim Brussels sprouts and halve lengthwise. Cut garlic into very thin slices. In a 10-inch heavy skillet (preferably well-seasoned cast iron) melt 1 tablespoon butter with oil over moderate heat and cook garlic, stirring, until pale golden. Transfer garlic with a slotted spoon to a small bowl.

Reduce heat to low and arrange sprouts in skillet, cut sides down, in one layer. Sprinkle sprouts with pine nuts and salt to taste. Cook sprouts, without turning, until crisp-tender and undersides are golden brown, about 15 minutes.

With tongs transfer sprouts to a plate, browned sides up. Add garlic and remaining 1/2 tablespoon butter to skillet and cook over moderate heat, stirring, until pine nuts are more evenly pale golden, about 1 minute. Spoon mixture over sprouts and sprinkle with freshly ground black pepper.

Serves 2 or 3 as a side dish. (I serve it over couscous as a main course.)

One that I’m dying to try:

Cranberry, Caramel and Almond Tart
Maury Rubin, chef-owner of City Bakery

Total time: 1 hour, plus 3 1/2 hours chilling and cooling time
Yields: one 9-inch tart or 12 4-inch tartlets

Standard tart dough
13 tablespoons (1 stick plus 5 tablespoons) unsalted butter, cut into 1-inch pieces
1/3 cup powdered sugar
1 egg yolk
1½ cups unbleached flour
1 tablespoon heavy cream

1. Let the butter sit at room temperature for 15 minutes, until malleable.

2. Place the powdered sugar in the bowl of a standing mixer. Add the pieces of butter and toss to coat. Using a paddle attachment with a standing mixer, combine the sugar and butter at medium speed, until the sugar is no longer visible.

3. Add the egg yolk and combine until no longer visible.

4. Scrape down the butter off the sides of the bowl. Add half of the flour, then begin mixing again until the dough is crumbly. Add the remaining flour and then the cream and mix until the dough forms a sticky mass.

5. Flatten the dough into a thick pancake, wrap it in plastic and refrigerate at least 2 hours before preparing to roll out the dough.

6. Lightly butter a 9-inch pastry ring (or fluted tart pan) and place it on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper or a nonstick Silpat pad.

7. Once the dough has thoroughly chilled, cut it in half, then cut each piece in half lengthwise. Rotate the dough 90 degrees and repeat, until you have 16 equal pieces. Work quickly with the dough so that it remains chilled. Sprinkle your work surface with a thin layer of flour. Knead the pieces of dough together until it forms one new mass and shape it into a flattened ball. Flour a rolling pin and sprinkle flour again on the work surface underneath the dough. Roll out the dough into a circle one-eighth-inch thick.

8. To easily transfer the dough into the ring or tart pan, fold it in half gently, then in quarters. Move the folded dough to the tart ring or pan, with the point of the dough in the center, then unfold it, gently patting the dough into the bottom and up the sides of the ring. Trim the edges so that they are flush with the top of the ring. Dock the dough with a pastry docker or prick the dough all over with a fork.

9. Put the baking sheet and pastry ring into the freezer for 1 hour.

10. Heat the oven to 350 degrees. Place the baking sheet and ring in the oven and bake 20 to 25 minutes or until the dough is lightly browned. Remove from the oven and let cool to room temperature before filling.

Filling and assembly
1¼ cups heavy cream
½ cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, cut into eight pieces
1 cup granulated sugar
1¾ cup frozen cranberries
2 cups unblanched sliced almonds

1. Measure the cream and butter into a saucepan and heat it over low heat. When the butter has melted completely, remove from heat.

2. To make the caramel, spread the sugar evenly in a perfectly dry, deep 10-inch skillet and place it over medium-low heat.

3. The sugar should turn straw-colored, then gold and then a nutty-brown caramel after about 10 minutes. If the sugar cooks unevenly, gently tilt or swirl the pan to evenly distribute the sugar. Remove from heat and slowly whisk the cream and butter into the sugar, which can splatter as the cream is added (long sleeves are a good precaution). If the caramel seizes, return it to the heat and continue to stir until it is smooth and creamy. Strain the caramel into a bowl and cool it for 30 minutes.

4. Stir the frozen cranberries and the almonds into the caramel and mix until all the fruit and nuts are coated. Spoon the filling into the partially baked tart dough mounding toward the center.

5. Bake for 25 to 30 minutes, until the juices and the caramel are bubbling slowly around the edges. Remove from the oven and let stand for 1 hour, then gently lift the tart ring off the pastry.

6. Carefully transfer the tart to a serving platter. Serve warm or at room temperature.

What I’m craving right now:

Chunky Guacamole
Real Simple, December 2000

2 ripe avocados, pitted and peeled
2 tablespoons fresh lime juice
2 ripe plum tomatoes, seeded and cut into 1/4-inch dice
1/3 cup finely chopped sweet onion
2 tablespoons chopped fresh cilantro
Hot sauce, optional

Mash the avocados with a fork until chunky. Stir in the lime juice, tomatoes, onion, cilantro, and hot sauce, if using. Season to taste with salt and ground pepper. Serve at room temperature.