I've blogged before about the vicar in the village where I used to live and his column in the monthly village mag. It must be so hard to come up with a sermon every week, and an idea for a column. This month the vicar rails against Sunday-morning flea markets (they are called car-boot sales in England) for cutting into his customer base:
"Car boot sales are a way of focusing a large group of people in one place to recycle still useful but unwanted domestic items that previously would have been thrown away. Car boot sales are often held in the grounds of schools and other community buildings, or in grassed fields or car parks. Usually they take place on weekend mornings, usually Sundays.
So “car boots” are most often a Sunday morning gathering. Just like church they have a regular congregation together with some visitors! The parallels are numerous - as we have seen - but then so are the differences. This is not to criticize car boots or those who go to them, but simply to compare these two Sunday morning gatherings. Let me mention 4 points of contrast:
We have discovered real treasure in the Lord Jesus Christ and we want to help one another to know him better. We are not ‘recycling unwanted items’!
We are here to share in the eternal word of God which dwells among us richly. We are not dealing in whatever anyone happens to have to have to hand. We don’t make our own truth like the car boot participant makes their own market.
We are a gathering brought into existence by the Holy Spirit of God. The local church is called God’s Temple in which the Holy Spirit dwells. It is not just a human gathering.
We meet to give not to get. We want to tell people the message of the love of God who loved the world so much that he gave his one and only Son to rescue us from sin and death.
So there it is - we have a choice. On Sunday mornings we can either ‘recycle unwanted items’ or we can come to know Christ in whom are all the treasures of the knowledge of God. Please note that I am not saying that there is anything
wrong with Car boots - they perform a useful function. Nor am I implying that Christians should not attend them - except when church is on of course! But I am saying that we have something infinitely better on offer. It’s here, every Sunday, at 10.00 am."
Tuesday, 30 September 2008
Monday, 29 September 2008
Love this cartoon
This is the way I've been feeling during the credit crunch, although I am wa-a-ay too young to have been part of the '60s LSD crowd!
The 16-year-old hamburger
A friend at work told me about a woman who has a 16-year-old hamburger. She bought it and kept it in a plastic box, and it looks the same as the day she bought it. She points out that it's so full of chemicals and additives that the burger will never die.
That's a picture of it above (1996 burger on the left) and a new hamburger. If that doesn't put you off buying McDonald's, I don't know what will. But it's so easy and comforting to eat junk -- I know it's a constant struggle for me to restrain myself.
Here's an excerpt from her post about her hamburger and a link to her site:
This is a hamburger from McDonalds that I purchased in 1996.
That was 12 years ago.
Note that it looks exactly like it did the very day I bought it.
People always ask me - what did you do to preserve it ?
Nothing - it preserved itself.
Ladies, Gentleman, and children alike - this is a chemical food. There is absolutely no nutrition here.
Not one ounce of food value. Or at least value for why we are eating in the first place.
Click here to view her website.
Sunday, 28 September 2008
A brush with Jesus
I went to Evensong at the church around the corner from my house to check out the choir. I knew they were good and was thinking about singing with them, even though I'm a total non-believer. I'd had a nice experience at that church after my mother died when my daughter and I went to Evensong and sat in the darkness listening to the singing while I shed a few tears for my mother.
No such luck this visit though. I sat in the darkness and was inmediately invited by the vicar to sit up in the choir. I was nonplussed and meekly followed him. There were only four people attending so they put them up in the choir area. I was internally freaking out though -- I'd wanted a quiet reflective experience but now I was in the brightest part of the church only yards away from the choir itself. They all came in and started singing, and I felt I had to be attentive to them as I was practically in their faces anyway. But I'd wanted anonymity and darkness to let my mind wander.
I was hemmed in by the lay reader who sat next to me so I couldn't escape. The choir was great, the vicar very nice, but then I had to do stuff like turn to face the statue of Jesus at a moment's notice and recite the Apostles' Creed. My childhood kicked in at that moment so I knew every word, but my goodness, what religious pressure.
What amazed me also is that there were 15 people in the choir singing their hearts out, a lay reader, a vicar, an assistant vicar and an organist -- so they outnumbered the actual attendees by 5-to-1.
As the service ended and the choir left, the organist kept playing and the lay reader didn't move so I couldn't even leave. The vicar took off his surplice (Mel tells me this is the right word for his vicar outfit), came into the church to pack up his sermon stuff and his little speaking platform, but still we had to sit there while the organist went on. I couldn't exactly knock an elderly lady down after all those prayers for peace and understanding and end to the world's violence, now could I?
(Oh yeah, the assistant vicar asked that St. Michael and his angels protect us from harm, etc., and there I'd been making fun of angels in my blog earlier in the week.)
Anyway, I finally got the hell out of there but I was waylaid by the very nice vicar who wanted me to come back soon, etc. I had to break it to him that someone had hacked the church's website and there was a picture of a blonde and a beach now where there used to be the church. (I'd been checking it earlier to see what time Evensong was.)
"Oh dear," he said in a vicarly way.
OMG, I'm finally home and enjoying a delicious bowl of my homemade chicken and veg soup. The cat Minnie poo'ed in her litter right in the middle of my soup eating but I got my husband to clean it up.
My chicken soup recipe is:
-real chicken stock that I made myself with a 'fryer' as we call them in the South
-a little can of cream of chicken soup
-vegs that I sweated out with butter earlier
-Lowry's seasoned salt that I brought back from US
-oregano and basil from my garden
My son refuses to eat the stuff I make unless it's something fun like the pan-fried fish and cornbread I made for lunch. Anything healthy he won't touch.
No such luck this visit though. I sat in the darkness and was inmediately invited by the vicar to sit up in the choir. I was nonplussed and meekly followed him. There were only four people attending so they put them up in the choir area. I was internally freaking out though -- I'd wanted a quiet reflective experience but now I was in the brightest part of the church only yards away from the choir itself. They all came in and started singing, and I felt I had to be attentive to them as I was practically in their faces anyway. But I'd wanted anonymity and darkness to let my mind wander.
I was hemmed in by the lay reader who sat next to me so I couldn't escape. The choir was great, the vicar very nice, but then I had to do stuff like turn to face the statue of Jesus at a moment's notice and recite the Apostles' Creed. My childhood kicked in at that moment so I knew every word, but my goodness, what religious pressure.
What amazed me also is that there were 15 people in the choir singing their hearts out, a lay reader, a vicar, an assistant vicar and an organist -- so they outnumbered the actual attendees by 5-to-1.
As the service ended and the choir left, the organist kept playing and the lay reader didn't move so I couldn't even leave. The vicar took off his surplice (Mel tells me this is the right word for his vicar outfit), came into the church to pack up his sermon stuff and his little speaking platform, but still we had to sit there while the organist went on. I couldn't exactly knock an elderly lady down after all those prayers for peace and understanding and end to the world's violence, now could I?
(Oh yeah, the assistant vicar asked that St. Michael and his angels protect us from harm, etc., and there I'd been making fun of angels in my blog earlier in the week.)
Anyway, I finally got the hell out of there but I was waylaid by the very nice vicar who wanted me to come back soon, etc. I had to break it to him that someone had hacked the church's website and there was a picture of a blonde and a beach now where there used to be the church. (I'd been checking it earlier to see what time Evensong was.)
"Oh dear," he said in a vicarly way.
OMG, I'm finally home and enjoying a delicious bowl of my homemade chicken and veg soup. The cat Minnie poo'ed in her litter right in the middle of my soup eating but I got my husband to clean it up.
My chicken soup recipe is:
-real chicken stock that I made myself with a 'fryer' as we call them in the South
-a little can of cream of chicken soup
-vegs that I sweated out with butter earlier
-Lowry's seasoned salt that I brought back from US
-oregano and basil from my garden
My son refuses to eat the stuff I make unless it's something fun like the pan-fried fish and cornbread I made for lunch. Anything healthy he won't touch.
Isn't this the way you feel lately?
I am sorry to hear Paul Newman is dead. Here's the summation scene from the Verdict that is very apt for the times we find ourselves in:
(I stole this idea from another website, just so you know.)
(I stole this idea from another website, just so you know.)
Reading traffic worse than being held hostage
From our local Reading paper:
"Terry Waite spent almost five years of his life as a hostage in Beirut and narrowly escaped death on numerous occasions in Uganda but yesterday he came face to face with his fiercest adversary -- the town's traffic."
Waite, who was an envoy for the Archbishop of Canterbury when he was kidnapped, said, "The traffic here is worse than being taken hostage!"
It made me laugh to read this, especially that Waite could have such a sense of humor about something so horrible. But really the traffic in Reading is a total nightmare -- you can't get from A to B without major jams. You can't decide you need to run out for a plant for the garden or bananas without a major time investment and aggravation.
I've had friends just give up on the south of England because of all the traffic and move up North. I want to get out here when the kids are finished with school. I can't stand the gridlock.
"Terry Waite spent almost five years of his life as a hostage in Beirut and narrowly escaped death on numerous occasions in Uganda but yesterday he came face to face with his fiercest adversary -- the town's traffic."
Waite, who was an envoy for the Archbishop of Canterbury when he was kidnapped, said, "The traffic here is worse than being taken hostage!"
It made me laugh to read this, especially that Waite could have such a sense of humor about something so horrible. But really the traffic in Reading is a total nightmare -- you can't get from A to B without major jams. You can't decide you need to run out for a plant for the garden or bananas without a major time investment and aggravation.
I've had friends just give up on the south of England because of all the traffic and move up North. I want to get out here when the kids are finished with school. I can't stand the gridlock.
Saturday, 27 September 2008
Your bedroom gives your political views away
Elizabeth from Detroit sent me this interesting article:
"Your office or bedroom holds telltale signs of whether you are a conservative or a liberal, finds a new study. While political conservatives tend to keep a tidy, organized office, political liberals favor colorful, more stylish but cluttered spaces.
A person may hide their political ideology from others, including from pollsters, but the researchers were delighted to learn that a peek into subjects' living quarters or even workspaces could give that away.
Conservatives and liberals leave behind distinct "behavioral residue" that can be picked up by savvy scientists and possibly other observers, according to the study by New York University psychologist John Jost and his colleagues. The results are set for publication in a forthcoming issue of the journal Political Psychology."
My cubicle at work is cluttered; so is my side of the bedroom. I like having all my junk around me to admire -- photos, old opera tickets, programs from things I've been to, etc.
Elizabeth's office is full of interesting stuff, yet very organized, bright and clean. So the jury is still out on her!
"Your office or bedroom holds telltale signs of whether you are a conservative or a liberal, finds a new study. While political conservatives tend to keep a tidy, organized office, political liberals favor colorful, more stylish but cluttered spaces.
A person may hide their political ideology from others, including from pollsters, but the researchers were delighted to learn that a peek into subjects' living quarters or even workspaces could give that away.
Conservatives and liberals leave behind distinct "behavioral residue" that can be picked up by savvy scientists and possibly other observers, according to the study by New York University psychologist John Jost and his colleagues. The results are set for publication in a forthcoming issue of the journal Political Psychology."
My cubicle at work is cluttered; so is my side of the bedroom. I like having all my junk around me to admire -- photos, old opera tickets, programs from things I've been to, etc.
Elizabeth's office is full of interesting stuff, yet very organized, bright and clean. So the jury is still out on her!
Loud perfumes are disgusting
I didn't know this (below); did you?
"...loud perfumes are disgusting, yet they are fashionable in America because we like to flaunt the brands we wear. [Perfumer Christopher Brosius] explains that major cosmetic companies are aware of this, and it has long been standard practice to vary a perfume's formula to appeal to taste in the markets it's destined for: the American version will be quite bold, but the Japanese version may be even softer than the French one. "Nobody will confirm that for you," Christopher says, "but it's true"."
Read more here.
"...loud perfumes are disgusting, yet they are fashionable in America because we like to flaunt the brands we wear. [Perfumer Christopher Brosius] explains that major cosmetic companies are aware of this, and it has long been standard practice to vary a perfume's formula to appeal to taste in the markets it's destined for: the American version will be quite bold, but the Japanese version may be even softer than the French one. "Nobody will confirm that for you," Christopher says, "but it's true"."
Read more here.
Friday, 26 September 2008
One piece of good news this week
Even if our brains are shrinking for various reasons (see previous post), we can still help our bodies in one delicious way:
"A small square of dark chocolate daily protects the heart from inflammation and ubsequent heart disease, a new study of Italians suggests. Milk chocolate might not do the job.
However, this guilty pleasure has a limit.
Specifically, only 6.7 grams of chocolate per day (or 0.23 ounces) represents the ideal amount, according to results from the Moli-sani Project, one of the largest health studies ever conducted in Europe. For comparison, a standard-sized Hershey's kiss is about 4.5 grams (though they are not made of dark chocolate) and one Hershey's dark chocolate bar is about 41 grams (so a recommendation might be one of those weekly)."
When you go to France, you'll notice the French eat a small square of dark chocolate after their meals. So French of them not to cram a full bar of chocolate into their bodies, but just enough to satisfy their choc craving.
As the article above notes, milk chocolate is no good. If you are still eating milk chocolate, switch to dark -- you'll never want the milky stuff again.
"A small square of dark chocolate daily protects the heart from inflammation and ubsequent heart disease, a new study of Italians suggests. Milk chocolate might not do the job.
However, this guilty pleasure has a limit.
Specifically, only 6.7 grams of chocolate per day (or 0.23 ounces) represents the ideal amount, according to results from the Moli-sani Project, one of the largest health studies ever conducted in Europe. For comparison, a standard-sized Hershey's kiss is about 4.5 grams (though they are not made of dark chocolate) and one Hershey's dark chocolate bar is about 41 grams (so a recommendation might be one of those weekly)."
When you go to France, you'll notice the French eat a small square of dark chocolate after their meals. So French of them not to cram a full bar of chocolate into their bodies, but just enough to satisfy their choc craving.
As the article above notes, milk chocolate is no good. If you are still eating milk chocolate, switch to dark -- you'll never want the milky stuff again.
Brain shrinkage
We had brain draining last week from sharing a bed with your partner, and now we learn about brain shrinkage from not having enough Vitamin B12 in your diet:
"MELBOURNE: Scientists have discovered that going veggie could be bad for your brain with those on a meat-free diet six times more likely to suffer brain shrinkage.
Vegans and vegetarians are the most likely to be deficient because the best sources of the vitamin are meat, particularly liver, milk and fish. Vitamin B12 deficiency can also cause anaemia and inflammation of the nervous system. Yeast extracts are one of the few vegetarian foods which provide good levels of the vitamin.
The link was discovered by Oxford University scientists who used memory tests, physical checks and brain scans to examine 107 people between the ages of 61 and 87.
When the volunteers were retested five years later the medics found those with the lowest levels of vitamin B12 were also the most likely to have brain shrinkage. It confirms earlier research showing a link between brain atrophy and low levels of B12.
Brain scans of more than 1,800 people found that people who downed 14 drinks or more a week had 1.6% more brain shrinkage than teetotallers. Women in their seventies were the most at risk.
Beer does less damage than wine according to a study in Alcohol and Alcoholism.
Researchers found that the hippocampus-the part of the brain that stores memories - was 10% smaller in beer drinkers than those who stuck to wine.
And being overweight or obese is linked to brain loss, Swedish researchers discovered. Scans of around 300 women found that those with brain shrink had an average body mass index of 27 And for every one point increase in their BMI the loss rose by 13 to 16%."
"MELBOURNE: Scientists have discovered that going veggie could be bad for your brain with those on a meat-free diet six times more likely to suffer brain shrinkage.
Vegans and vegetarians are the most likely to be deficient because the best sources of the vitamin are meat, particularly liver, milk and fish. Vitamin B12 deficiency can also cause anaemia and inflammation of the nervous system. Yeast extracts are one of the few vegetarian foods which provide good levels of the vitamin.
The link was discovered by Oxford University scientists who used memory tests, physical checks and brain scans to examine 107 people between the ages of 61 and 87.
When the volunteers were retested five years later the medics found those with the lowest levels of vitamin B12 were also the most likely to have brain shrinkage. It confirms earlier research showing a link between brain atrophy and low levels of B12.
Brain scans of more than 1,800 people found that people who downed 14 drinks or more a week had 1.6% more brain shrinkage than teetotallers. Women in their seventies were the most at risk.
Beer does less damage than wine according to a study in Alcohol and Alcoholism.
Researchers found that the hippocampus-the part of the brain that stores memories - was 10% smaller in beer drinkers than those who stuck to wine.
And being overweight or obese is linked to brain loss, Swedish researchers discovered. Scans of around 300 women found that those with brain shrink had an average body mass index of 27 And for every one point increase in their BMI the loss rose by 13 to 16%."
Thursday, 25 September 2008
Biting off more than I can chew
I get so enthusiastic about things in my life, and I volunteer for this and that, join groups and so on. Then when it comes to actually doing it, I find I don't have the time or energy. How come I don't think of this upfront? I have been on this planet for years so why haven't I learned to modify my behavior yet?
I joined Red Cross with my daughter a few years ago because she needed the experience to get into medical school. I took the First Aid course, then was ready to do duties, but then I discovered that duties take about 10 hours -- so you lose a whole day out of the weekend or have to stay up very late when covering a concert or play. But I still have to be at work by 8:00 each morning and my commute is 1.5 hours each day.
I ended up barely doing any duties and feeling guilty.
Then I auditioned for a big chorus in London, and found out that the rehearsals are twice a week in London (I thought they were only once a week because I read it on their website). I just love singing with this group but getting up to London after a full day at the office is killing me. I have to drive home from Farnborough to Reading, leave my car at the house, jump on a bus and then a train and then the underground to get to rehearsals. When rehearsals end, I have to run back to Paddington station so I can get the 9:45 fast train home. Then I have to be out of the house by 7:30 the next morning to get to work.
Last night I tried to get to rehearsal but I just couldn't make it. So now I see that I've over-extended myself yet again and will probably have to drop out. Will I ever learn?
I joined Red Cross with my daughter a few years ago because she needed the experience to get into medical school. I took the First Aid course, then was ready to do duties, but then I discovered that duties take about 10 hours -- so you lose a whole day out of the weekend or have to stay up very late when covering a concert or play. But I still have to be at work by 8:00 each morning and my commute is 1.5 hours each day.
I ended up barely doing any duties and feeling guilty.
Then I auditioned for a big chorus in London, and found out that the rehearsals are twice a week in London (I thought they were only once a week because I read it on their website). I just love singing with this group but getting up to London after a full day at the office is killing me. I have to drive home from Farnborough to Reading, leave my car at the house, jump on a bus and then a train and then the underground to get to rehearsals. When rehearsals end, I have to run back to Paddington station so I can get the 9:45 fast train home. Then I have to be out of the house by 7:30 the next morning to get to work.
Last night I tried to get to rehearsal but I just couldn't make it. So now I see that I've over-extended myself yet again and will probably have to drop out. Will I ever learn?
Vladimir and the Young Pioneers
I love little badges from the political movements of the past. I have Gerald Ford and Jimmy Carter campaign pins from my youth. Elizabeth from Detroit gave me a real Lenin badge when we were in college, and I used to wear it on the lapel of my coat. When I was at New York University, I found an authentic Chairman Mao pin that the Communist party workers had to wear.
Now I've just ordered a Young Pioneers pin from Ebay that all the young Russians had to wear at school from the 1920s through to 1991. My Russian friend at work, Vladimir, was telling me all about it. Here's a pic and info:
The Young Pioneer Organization of the Soviet Union, also Lenin All-Union Pioneer Organization (Russian: Всесою́зная пионе́рская организа́ция и́мени В. И. Ле́нина), was a mass youth organization of the USSR for children of age 10-15, that existed in the Soviet Union between 1922 and 1991.
Vlad had to sing songs like this one. And check out the uniform that all the school children had to wear. Vlad said that necktie/scarf thing had to be ironed straight everyday!
The lyrics are sweet, but Vlad said he always thought they were too saccharine when he was growing up in St. Petersburg and had to sing this song:
Bright blue the sky.
Sun up on high—
That was the little boy's picture
He drew for you
Wrote for you, too
Just to make clear what he drew.
Chorus:
May there always be sunshine,
May there always be blue skies,
May there always be mummy,
May there always be me!
Now I've just ordered a Young Pioneers pin from Ebay that all the young Russians had to wear at school from the 1920s through to 1991. My Russian friend at work, Vladimir, was telling me all about it. Here's a pic and info:
The Young Pioneer Organization of the Soviet Union, also Lenin All-Union Pioneer Organization (Russian: Всесою́зная пионе́рская организа́ция и́мени В. И. Ле́нина), was a mass youth organization of the USSR for children of age 10-15, that existed in the Soviet Union between 1922 and 1991.
Vlad had to sing songs like this one. And check out the uniform that all the school children had to wear. Vlad said that necktie/scarf thing had to be ironed straight everyday!
The lyrics are sweet, but Vlad said he always thought they were too saccharine when he was growing up in St. Petersburg and had to sing this song:
Bright blue the sky.
Sun up on high—
That was the little boy's picture
He drew for you
Wrote for you, too
Just to make clear what he drew.
Chorus:
May there always be sunshine,
May there always be blue skies,
May there always be mummy,
May there always be me!
Wednesday, 24 September 2008
Happy Birthday Mom
My mother would have been 80 today. I was planning earlier in the year to go to her nursing home in Tennessee for such an important birthday, but she died last spring.
I thought about how long it took me to get over my father's death in 1994, and I didn't even like him so I figured it would take me years to get over my mother leaving me.
But recently I decided that I don't need to get over her. She still seems to be alive in my heart and thoughts so that'll do for me. I talk to her photograph in my bedroom sometimes when I'm getting ready for work -- why do I have to get over that?
This sums up what I'm thinking:
When everything is dark, when we are surrounded by despairing voices, when we do not see any exits, then we can find salvation in a remembered love, a love which is not simply a recollection of a bygone past but of a living force which sustains us in the present. Through memory, love transcends the limits of time and offers hope at any moment of our lives. Henri Nouwen
Tuesday, 23 September 2008
Ode to Minnie
We started fostering a cat last week, and I'm already in love with her. She (Minnie, pictured above) doesn't give me the time of day, as regular commenters Ellen and Brenda predicted, but I don't mind. Sometimes she lets me scratch her stomach, and that's reward enough. :)
Last night I was telling her that she was so great that I could write a poem about her. So I started composing -- "I love Minnie the cat." Uh, I got stuck after that --I thought about 'she's not fat' or 'she's not phat.' I guess I won't be getting the poet laureate's job anytime soon. My husband Mel came home shortly after, and he thought of a much better ode to Minnie.
Oh Minnie, fluffy and tortoise-shell,
Before you came, our lives were hell
But when I look in those eyes
It comes to me as no surprise
That you have made our lives complete
We love you, Minnie, you're so neat.
Minnie is lucky that we think so much of her that we want to write odes to her because yesterday she got mixed up about where her cat litter was and poo'ed in the sink. I couldn't find the source of the smell anywhere -- after 30 minutes of frantic searching, I gave up and started to cook dinner. That's when I found the gigantic turd.
Famous poet William Carlos Williams wrote the cat poem below in 1934. What do you think?
As the cat
climbed over
the top of
the jamcloset
first the right
forefoot
carefully
then the hind
stepped down
into the pit of
the empty
flowerpot
PS
Brenda just e-mailed this:
I have decided that your Ode to Minnie is a haiku...
I love Minnie Cat
I get no farther than that,
She's sweet and not fat.
Haiku isn't supposed to rhyme but who cares...I think the syllables are right.
Financial Meltdown explained
Here's a good explanation for what has happened in the financial markets recently. These guys are famous British comedians.
I have some bad assets for Paulson to buy too
I can't believe the Treasury secretary in the US wants us taxpayers to hand over a blank check for $700 billion to him to bail out Wall Street's bad assets. Some clever person has come up with the idea for us ordinary folk to sell Henry Paulson our bad assets too. Click on the link below to go to the website to add sell Paulson some of your crap at inflated prices.
I have some costume jewellery that I don't wear anymore. I could tell them that the pieces have real gems in them and probably get a couple of hundred per necklace. My car's all worn out too -- I could unload that for a hefty profit. Hmmm, what else could I add to the pile? Tell us what you want to add, and how much you are charging them.
"With our economy in crisis, the US Government is scrambling to rescue our banks by purchasing their "distressed assets", i.e., assets that no one else wants to buy from them. We figured that instead of protesting this plan, we'd give regular Americans the same opportunity to sell their bad assets to the government. We need your help and you need the Government's help!
Use the website below to submit bad assets you'd like the government to take off your hands. And remember, when estimating the value of your 1997 limited edition Hanson single CD "MMMbop", it's not what you can sell these items for that matters, it's what you think they are worth. The fact that you think they are worth more than anyone will buy them for is what makes them bad assets."
Buy My Shitpile, Henry
I have some costume jewellery that I don't wear anymore. I could tell them that the pieces have real gems in them and probably get a couple of hundred per necklace. My car's all worn out too -- I could unload that for a hefty profit. Hmmm, what else could I add to the pile? Tell us what you want to add, and how much you are charging them.
"With our economy in crisis, the US Government is scrambling to rescue our banks by purchasing their "distressed assets", i.e., assets that no one else wants to buy from them. We figured that instead of protesting this plan, we'd give regular Americans the same opportunity to sell their bad assets to the government. We need your help and you need the Government's help!
Use the website below to submit bad assets you'd like the government to take off your hands. And remember, when estimating the value of your 1997 limited edition Hanson single CD "MMMbop", it's not what you can sell these items for that matters, it's what you think they are worth. The fact that you think they are worth more than anyone will buy them for is what makes them bad assets."
Buy My Shitpile, Henry
Monday, 22 September 2008
I'm voting in the US election today
I will be one of the early voters in the US Presidential election. The state of Florida just e-mailed my ballot to me, I've printed it out, voted and will send it off tomorrow. I am very happy to be able to vote as an expat -- it's become much easier in recent years to register and vote from overseas.
I didn't have a problem deciding who to vote for in the presidential race, but I did become stumped by the time I reached the Soil and Water Conservation District Seat 4 election.
My son Mikey solved it for me. He insisted we vote for Frank 'Peanut' Farquharson because of his silly name. I will be following the results of this race closely....
Good luck Peanut!
PS
If you are an expat and haven't registered to vote yet, read the info below.
Time is running out! For quick and easy ballot applications, go directly to www.VoteFromAbroad.org. Check fast approaching state deadlines now! Many states allow you to verify your application status online. Use this easy link through our Voter Action Center.
I didn't have a problem deciding who to vote for in the presidential race, but I did become stumped by the time I reached the Soil and Water Conservation District Seat 4 election.
My son Mikey solved it for me. He insisted we vote for Frank 'Peanut' Farquharson because of his silly name. I will be following the results of this race closely....
Good luck Peanut!
PS
If you are an expat and haven't registered to vote yet, read the info below.
Time is running out! For quick and easy ballot applications, go directly to www.VoteFromAbroad.org. Check fast approaching state deadlines now! Many states allow you to verify your application status online. Use this easy link through our Voter Action Center.
Criticizing American bankers' wives
I've noticed a little divide creeping up between American and British/European bankers in newspapers recently. Europeans are starting to mock the Wall Street dilemma in America. The article below from the London paper The Evening Standard compares British and American bankers wives and decides American bankers' wives are much greedier.
I read the bit about the anonymous Goldman Sachs' wife (below) with interest. Lisa, one of our faithful readers is a Goldman's wife. Could this be about her?
"Over the weekend Lehman Brothers was desperately trying to recruit 50 counsellors. On a scale of difficult things to take in, going from being a high-flying banker to a nobody in the space of a day is right up there on top of the stress chart, and it's no easier for their spouses.
One minute, bankers' wives were ordering curtains from Nina Campbell and the next they were wondering whether they could keep their home. Bankers don't tend to get anyone's sympathy but the higher the perch you fall from, the more the landing hurts.
The experience of loss, confusion and panic that bankers and their wives are feeling now will be different depending on whether they are American or British. The latter I think will fare better. The truth is that American banks set the bar but the British and Europeans never really wanted to jump.
It's not because they aren't smart or hard-working enough. It's because they are too well brought up to buy into the brutal Wall Street culture that says manners and morals don't count. Americans think life is work: the rest of the world knows better.
...
Susie Rogers of Beauty Works West told me one client, a Goldman Sachs wife, said this week that she wouldn't buy a new handbag or great new dress this season but she'll be damned if she has to go without her weekly manicure and pedicure.
“British women seem to be able to take it or leave it but it's different for Americans.”
Nannies at £35,000 a year, gardeners at £50 an hour, monthly highlights and haircut at £200 a go and hundreds of pounds spent on eating out were the staple expenses of the banker's household. Along with the mortgage, these usually eat up all the income.
Still, there is consolation in Marcel Proust's words: “We do not succeed in changing things according to our desire but gradually our desires change.”"
I read the bit about the anonymous Goldman Sachs' wife (below) with interest. Lisa, one of our faithful readers is a Goldman's wife. Could this be about her?
"Over the weekend Lehman Brothers was desperately trying to recruit 50 counsellors. On a scale of difficult things to take in, going from being a high-flying banker to a nobody in the space of a day is right up there on top of the stress chart, and it's no easier for their spouses.
One minute, bankers' wives were ordering curtains from Nina Campbell and the next they were wondering whether they could keep their home. Bankers don't tend to get anyone's sympathy but the higher the perch you fall from, the more the landing hurts.
The experience of loss, confusion and panic that bankers and their wives are feeling now will be different depending on whether they are American or British. The latter I think will fare better. The truth is that American banks set the bar but the British and Europeans never really wanted to jump.
It's not because they aren't smart or hard-working enough. It's because they are too well brought up to buy into the brutal Wall Street culture that says manners and morals don't count. Americans think life is work: the rest of the world knows better.
...
Susie Rogers of Beauty Works West told me one client, a Goldman Sachs wife, said this week that she wouldn't buy a new handbag or great new dress this season but she'll be damned if she has to go without her weekly manicure and pedicure.
“British women seem to be able to take it or leave it but it's different for Americans.”
Nannies at £35,000 a year, gardeners at £50 an hour, monthly highlights and haircut at £200 a go and hundreds of pounds spent on eating out were the staple expenses of the banker's household. Along with the mortgage, these usually eat up all the income.
Still, there is consolation in Marcel Proust's words: “We do not succeed in changing things according to our desire but gradually our desires change.”"
Sunday, 21 September 2008
Have you had an experience with a guardian angel?
Living in godless Europe like I do, I find the article (below) from Time magazine incredible. I remember when guardian angels were all the rage in America about 10 years ago, and some of my relatives used to read hardback books about angels and their complete history/lineage, but I thought that was just a fad.
"More than half of all Americans believe they have been helped by a guardian angel in the course of their lives, according to a new poll by the Baylor University Institute for Studies of Religion. In a poll of 1700 respondents, 55% answered affirmatively to the statement, "I was protected from harm by a guardian angel." The responses defied standard class and denominational assumptions about religious belief; the majority held up regardless of denomination, region or education — though the figure was a little lower (37%) among respondents earning more than $150,000 a year."
"The guardian angel encounter figures were "the big shocker" in the report, says Christopher Bader, director of the Baylor survey that covered a range of religious issues, parts of which are being released Thursday in a book titled What Americans Really Believe. In the case of angels, however, the question is a little stronger than just belief. Says Bader, "If you ask whether people believe in guardian angels, a lot of people will say, 'sure.' But this is different. It's experiential. It means that lots of Americans are having these lived supernatural experiences.""
"More than half of all Americans believe they have been helped by a guardian angel in the course of their lives, according to a new poll by the Baylor University Institute for Studies of Religion. In a poll of 1700 respondents, 55% answered affirmatively to the statement, "I was protected from harm by a guardian angel." The responses defied standard class and denominational assumptions about religious belief; the majority held up regardless of denomination, region or education — though the figure was a little lower (37%) among respondents earning more than $150,000 a year."
"The guardian angel encounter figures were "the big shocker" in the report, says Christopher Bader, director of the Baylor survey that covered a range of religious issues, parts of which are being released Thursday in a book titled What Americans Really Believe. In the case of angels, however, the question is a little stronger than just belief. Says Bader, "If you ask whether people believe in guardian angels, a lot of people will say, 'sure.' But this is different. It's experiential. It means that lots of Americans are having these lived supernatural experiences.""
Saturday, 20 September 2008
My next concert
My next concert with the Philharmonia Chorus is at the Royal Albert Hall with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra singing Te Deum by Berlioz on the 24th of October. This weekend I have to get on with learning the music as am so rusty with sight-reading.
I love the flyers they have printed up for the concert with the picture of stained glass above.
Here's the blurb from the publicity:
An evening of two contrasting choral masterpieces. Fauré’s sublime Requiem which includes the beautiful Pie Jesu and Berlioz’s monumental Te Deum featuring mass instrumental and vocal forces.
Here's a sample of the music. It's beautiful:
Friday, 19 September 2008
Parrots
This guy at work, Mike Allum, dresses up like Long John Silver every year and comes to work looking like that to raise money for a Parrot Charity.
Can you imagine how hard it must be for him to look that silly all day?
Or maybe not....
Can you imagine how hard it must be for him to look that silly all day?
Or maybe not....
Sometimes superstition is good
This is interesting about superstition (below). I was telling my friend Melissa about this, and she said that in her jewellery business, she is selling more and more religious icons to put on necklaces. "St. Christopher is selling like hotcakes," she said. "The worse the economy gets, the more people want this religious stuff."
Here's the article:
"The tendency to falsely link cause to effect — a superstition — is occasionally beneficial, says Kevin Foster, an evolutionary biologist at Harvard University. For example, a prehistoric human might associate rustling grass with the approach of a predator and hide. Most of the time, the wind will have caused the sound, but "if a group of lions is coming there's a huge benefit to not being around."
Foster worked with mathematical language and a simple definition for superstition to determine exactly when such potentially false connections pay off and found as long as the cost of believing a superstition is less than the cost of missing a real association, superstitious beliefs will be favored. In modern times, superstitions turn up as a belief in alternative and homeopathic remedies.
"The chances are that most of them don't do anything, but some of them do," Foster says. Wolfgang Forstmeier argues that by linking cause and effect — often falsely — science is simply a dogmatic form of superstition. "You have to find the trade off between being superstitious and being ignorant," Forstmeier says. By ignoring building evidence that contradicts their long-held ideas, "quite a lot of scientists tend to be ignorant quite often."
Here's the article:
"The tendency to falsely link cause to effect — a superstition — is occasionally beneficial, says Kevin Foster, an evolutionary biologist at Harvard University. For example, a prehistoric human might associate rustling grass with the approach of a predator and hide. Most of the time, the wind will have caused the sound, but "if a group of lions is coming there's a huge benefit to not being around."
Foster worked with mathematical language and a simple definition for superstition to determine exactly when such potentially false connections pay off and found as long as the cost of believing a superstition is less than the cost of missing a real association, superstitious beliefs will be favored. In modern times, superstitions turn up as a belief in alternative and homeopathic remedies.
"The chances are that most of them don't do anything, but some of them do," Foster says. Wolfgang Forstmeier argues that by linking cause and effect — often falsely — science is simply a dogmatic form of superstition. "You have to find the trade off between being superstitious and being ignorant," Forstmeier says. By ignoring building evidence that contradicts their long-held ideas, "quite a lot of scientists tend to be ignorant quite often."
Thursday, 18 September 2008
Martini your troubles away
My friend Di and I met for a martini after work last night. I told this to my cyber pal, Brenda in Mississippi, explaining that I wouldn't be able to play the Scrabulous game she just started because I was going out for a "quick martini" after work.
"There is no such thing as a quick martini," she retorted. She's right, too, because when you have one of them, you immediately want another.
The delicious Cosmopolitan martini I was served took my mind off the economy. When I left work, the Dow was down 250 points, and by the time I got home, it was down 450.
Just in case you need a martini later to take your mind off of financial woes, here's the recipe:
Cosmopolitan martini recipe:
1/2 oz Cointreau orange liqueur
1 oz vodka
juice of 1/2 limes
1 splash cranberry juice
Pour all ingredients in mixing glass half filled with ice, shake and strain into chilled martini glass.
"There is no such thing as a quick martini," she retorted. She's right, too, because when you have one of them, you immediately want another.
The delicious Cosmopolitan martini I was served took my mind off the economy. When I left work, the Dow was down 250 points, and by the time I got home, it was down 450.
Just in case you need a martini later to take your mind off of financial woes, here's the recipe:
Cosmopolitan martini recipe:
1/2 oz Cointreau orange liqueur
1 oz vodka
juice of 1/2 limes
1 splash cranberry juice
Pour all ingredients in mixing glass half filled with ice, shake and strain into chilled martini glass.
Wednesday, 17 September 2008
Second-rate singer?
I blogged about watching a wonderful production of Eugene Onegin on TV the other week. What I didn't say was that the singer who sang Lensky didn't exactly set the production on fire. I thought maybe it was just the transmission that made me miss the perfection of his singing.
When I was getting a YouTube video of an aria from Eugene Onegin to put up on my blog so you could hear how wonderful it was, I noticed a commenter saying how crap the guy who sang the Lensky role was.
The other night at Don Giovanni at the Royal Opera House in London, I kept looking at the singer who the secondary male role -- Don Ottavio. What was it about him that looked familiar?
At the intermission, I told my family what I thought. "I think that's the same guy who sang Lensky," I announced. "The one who some people thought wasn't very good."
My daughter was impressed at my celebrity spotting. (It's one of my big talents -- I can spot well-known actors in their first or last role -- it doesn't matter how age has touched them -- I can spot some quirk or facial feature about them and ID them correctly almost every time. I watch people that way.)
Then I mentioned his name -- Ramon Vargas.
"That's him," my daughter said, amazed. "I saw his name in the programme. It's the same guy."
As we watched Don Giovanni, we noticed that Vargas didn't exactly set this production on fire either (although there were plenty of flames onstage when Don Giovanni was pulled into hell at the end of the opera).
Today I was reading a review of the opera in the Times, and the reviewer had these harsh words:
"As for Vargas, he has no place in a stylish Mozart ensemble. To go all the way to Mexico for such a second-rate artist is inexplicable."
Ouch! I sort of feel sorry for him now. What must it be like to read things like this about yourself?
When I was getting a YouTube video of an aria from Eugene Onegin to put up on my blog so you could hear how wonderful it was, I noticed a commenter saying how crap the guy who sang the Lensky role was.
The other night at Don Giovanni at the Royal Opera House in London, I kept looking at the singer who the secondary male role -- Don Ottavio. What was it about him that looked familiar?
At the intermission, I told my family what I thought. "I think that's the same guy who sang Lensky," I announced. "The one who some people thought wasn't very good."
My daughter was impressed at my celebrity spotting. (It's one of my big talents -- I can spot well-known actors in their first or last role -- it doesn't matter how age has touched them -- I can spot some quirk or facial feature about them and ID them correctly almost every time. I watch people that way.)
Then I mentioned his name -- Ramon Vargas.
"That's him," my daughter said, amazed. "I saw his name in the programme. It's the same guy."
As we watched Don Giovanni, we noticed that Vargas didn't exactly set this production on fire either (although there were plenty of flames onstage when Don Giovanni was pulled into hell at the end of the opera).
Today I was reading a review of the opera in the Times, and the reviewer had these harsh words:
"As for Vargas, he has no place in a stylish Mozart ensemble. To go all the way to Mexico for such a second-rate artist is inexplicable."
Ouch! I sort of feel sorry for him now. What must it be like to read things like this about yourself?
Snap up these Lehman treasures while you can
A Lehman Brothers operating principles cube:
http://cgi.ebay.co.uk/Lehman-Brothers_W0QQitemZ330271839443QQcmdZViewItem?hash=item330! 271839443&_trkparms=72%3A12|39%3A1|66%3A2|65%3A12|240%3A1318&_trksid=p3286.c0.m14
Includes such gems as "Demonstrating smart risk management"
Somebody's Id card:
http://cgi.ebay.co.uk/Lehman-Brothers-Badge_W0QQitemZ190252740690QQcmdZViewItem?hash=item190252740690&_trkparms=72%3A12|39%3A1|66%3A2|65%3A12|240%3A1318&_trksid=p3286.c0.m14
A genuine emergency evacuation kit:
http://cgi.ebay.co.uk/Lehman-Brothers-Emergency-Evacuation-Kit-Genuine-BN_W0QQitemZ330271622442QQcmdZViewItem?hash=item330271622442&_trkparms=72%3A12|39%3A1|66%3A2|65%3A12|240%3A1318&_trksid=p3286.c0.m14
... and for only 1p, Lehman Brothers dining card with three pounds left on it!
http://cgi.ebay.co.uk/Lehman-Brothers-Visitors-Dining-Card-Genuine_W0QQitemZ230292044193QQcmdZViewItem?hash=item230292044193&_trkparms=72%3A12|39%3A1|66%3A2|65%3A12|240%3A1318&_trksid=p3286.c0.m14
http://cgi.ebay.co.uk/Lehman-Brothers_W0QQitemZ330271839443QQcmdZViewItem?hash=item330! 271839443&_trkparms=72%3A12|39%3A1|66%3A2|65%3A12|240%3A1318&_trksid=p3286.c0.m14
Includes such gems as "Demonstrating smart risk management"
Somebody's Id card:
http://cgi.ebay.co.uk/Lehman-Brothers-Badge_W0QQitemZ190252740690QQcmdZViewItem?hash=item190252740690&_trkparms=72%3A12|39%3A1|66%3A2|65%3A12|240%3A1318&_trksid=p3286.c0.m14
A genuine emergency evacuation kit:
http://cgi.ebay.co.uk/Lehman-Brothers-Emergency-Evacuation-Kit-Genuine-BN_W0QQitemZ330271622442QQcmdZViewItem?hash=item330271622442&_trkparms=72%3A12|39%3A1|66%3A2|65%3A12|240%3A1318&_trksid=p3286.c0.m14
... and for only 1p, Lehman Brothers dining card with three pounds left on it!
http://cgi.ebay.co.uk/Lehman-Brothers-Visitors-Dining-Card-Genuine_W0QQitemZ230292044193QQcmdZViewItem?hash=item230292044193&_trkparms=72%3A12|39%3A1|66%3A2|65%3A12|240%3A1318&_trksid=p3286.c0.m14
Let the VP candidate name you
We Americans are in the middle of a thrilling presidential race. The VP candidate for the Republicans has named her kids unusual things. Click on the link below to see what she would have named you if she'd been your mother.
"Sarah Palin has picked out an All-American set of names for her children. There's Track, Trig, Bristol, Willow, and Piper.
Ever wonder, What would your name would be if Sarah Palin was your mother? Well now you can find out!"
What would Sarah Palin have named you if she'd been your mother? Click here to find out.
"Sarah Palin has picked out an All-American set of names for her children. There's Track, Trig, Bristol, Willow, and Piper.
Ever wonder, What would your name would be if Sarah Palin was your mother? Well now you can find out!"
What would Sarah Palin have named you if she'd been your mother? Click here to find out.
Tuesday, 16 September 2008
Getting the cold shoulder makes you want a hot drink
From the International Herald Tribune:
"For every congenial character who can warm a room, there's another who can bring a draft from the north, a whiff of dead winter. And even if the thermometer doesn't register the difference, people do: social iciness feels so cold to those on the receiving end that they will crave a hot drink, a new study has found.
The paper, appearing in the current issue of the journal Psychological Science, is the latest finding from the field of embodied cognition, in which researchers have shown that the language of metaphor can activate physical sensations, and vice versa.
Just as spreading a bad rumor can make people feel literally dirty, so did research subjects who felt socially excluded perceive a significantly lower room temperature than those who felt included.
"We know that being excluded is psychologically painful," said the lead author, Dr. Chen-Bo Zhong, a psychologist at the University of Toronto, "and here we found that it feels just like it's described in metaphors," like icy stare and frosty reception.
John Bargh, a psychologist at Yale who was not involved in the research, said the finding made "perfect sense." In an e-mail message, he noted that a brain region called the insula tracks both body temperature and general psychological states, and it may be here where social perceptions and sensations of warmth or coldness are fused."
"For every congenial character who can warm a room, there's another who can bring a draft from the north, a whiff of dead winter. And even if the thermometer doesn't register the difference, people do: social iciness feels so cold to those on the receiving end that they will crave a hot drink, a new study has found.
The paper, appearing in the current issue of the journal Psychological Science, is the latest finding from the field of embodied cognition, in which researchers have shown that the language of metaphor can activate physical sensations, and vice versa.
Just as spreading a bad rumor can make people feel literally dirty, so did research subjects who felt socially excluded perceive a significantly lower room temperature than those who felt included.
"We know that being excluded is psychologically painful," said the lead author, Dr. Chen-Bo Zhong, a psychologist at the University of Toronto, "and here we found that it feels just like it's described in metaphors," like icy stare and frosty reception.
John Bargh, a psychologist at Yale who was not involved in the research, said the finding made "perfect sense." In an e-mail message, he noted that a brain region called the insula tracks both body temperature and general psychological states, and it may be here where social perceptions and sensations of warmth or coldness are fused."
My plan for winter
The American women's expat group that I belong to on the Internet had a question recently about how will we all cope with the British winter to come? You really need a plan or else the dark days can leave you depressed and forlorn.
I immediately answered that I was ordering a SAD light -- one of those powerful lights that mimics the sun's rays and hopefully fools your body into thinking it was been in the sunlight. Apparently the light needs to have a strength of 10,000 lux to work.
They are so expensive though -- hundreds of pounds -- so I never got one. But this year, there is a cheaper model available -- only £59. I just got it, and have it next to my laptop at home. Here's a pic:
I immediately answered that I was ordering a SAD light -- one of those powerful lights that mimics the sun's rays and hopefully fools your body into thinking it was been in the sunlight. Apparently the light needs to have a strength of 10,000 lux to work.
They are so expensive though -- hundreds of pounds -- so I never got one. But this year, there is a cheaper model available -- only £59. I just got it, and have it next to my laptop at home. Here's a pic:
Monday, 15 September 2008
No day of rest for bankers
Yesterday was Sunday and supposedly a day of rest, but not for bankers! My husband was on the phone and in conference calls most of the day yesterday. I asked why, and he said there were rumors about Lehman Brothers going bust so banks were deciding what to do about their exposure BEFORE this actually happened.
That was pretty exciting, and I checked the Internet to see what it said there about Lehman but the financial websites I checked said everything was OK.
I thought that was odd, when what was doing on with my husband seemed to point that things were not OK. All day long this went on, my husband in conferences but the news said Lehman was going to make it.
Then in the evening, he came out with the news that Lehman was going to go bust at midnight. I couldn't believe such a thing could happen.
I guess this web page (below) will be taken down from the Internet soon?
Work At Lehman - Careers - Lehman Brothers
Around the world, the Lehman Brothers team is growing. Explore these pages to learn how you can build a career with us, and experience Lehman Brothers for ... www.lehman.com/careers/ - 4k - Cached - Similar pages
That was pretty exciting, and I checked the Internet to see what it said there about Lehman but the financial websites I checked said everything was OK.
I thought that was odd, when what was doing on with my husband seemed to point that things were not OK. All day long this went on, my husband in conferences but the news said Lehman was going to make it.
Then in the evening, he came out with the news that Lehman was going to go bust at midnight. I couldn't believe such a thing could happen.
I guess this web page (below) will be taken down from the Internet soon?
Work At Lehman - Careers - Lehman Brothers
Around the world, the Lehman Brothers team is growing. Explore these pages to learn how you can build a career with us, and experience Lehman Brothers for ... www.lehman.com/careers/ - 4k - Cached - Similar pages
Moving Katie into her new house
We moved Katie, our 19-year-old daughter, into her new room in London. She starts her second year of medical school this month. Her house is off Old Kent Road, which gives us a whole new area of London to explore. We saw lots of Latin American restaurants and food shops so I'll need to look more closely at those.
Here's Katie in front of her new house:
We drove a couple of miles away to find someplace to eat for dinner and to celebrate Mikey's birthday. We parked near Borough Market, and that place looks cool too. I'm definitely going to have to check that out during a weekday.
While walking around to find a restaurant, we came to Clink Street. I had no idea that's where the word 'clink' came from, meaning prison. Apparently there was a medieval prison there and people would say they were going to Clink Street to prison or to visit someone and it gradually got shortened to 'going to the clink' to mean going to prison.
Here's a pic:
We ate at a fab Greek restaurant on the South Bank called the Real Greek -- it was wonderful to be eating hoummous and pita while looking at the Thames and St. Paul's cathedral across the way.
Here's info for you readers around London. You should try this place:
The Real Greek was founded in 1999 by celebrity chef, Theodore Kyriakou, and his team. They opened Hoxton to critical acclaim winning ‘Best New London Restaurant’. The concept was expanded in 2003 with the opening of Clerkenwell, bringing this new take on delicious Greek ‘street food’ to more Londoners. The openings continued across London with Bankside (2004), Marylebone (2005), Putney (2005) and Covent Garden (2006).
Theodore continues to consult with us and inspires our team of chefs on new dishes and menu evolution. He is also the author of the series of The Real Greek Cookbooks.
Here's Katie in front of her new house:
We drove a couple of miles away to find someplace to eat for dinner and to celebrate Mikey's birthday. We parked near Borough Market, and that place looks cool too. I'm definitely going to have to check that out during a weekday.
While walking around to find a restaurant, we came to Clink Street. I had no idea that's where the word 'clink' came from, meaning prison. Apparently there was a medieval prison there and people would say they were going to Clink Street to prison or to visit someone and it gradually got shortened to 'going to the clink' to mean going to prison.
Here's a pic:
We ate at a fab Greek restaurant on the South Bank called the Real Greek -- it was wonderful to be eating hoummous and pita while looking at the Thames and St. Paul's cathedral across the way.
Here's info for you readers around London. You should try this place:
The Real Greek was founded in 1999 by celebrity chef, Theodore Kyriakou, and his team. They opened Hoxton to critical acclaim winning ‘Best New London Restaurant’. The concept was expanded in 2003 with the opening of Clerkenwell, bringing this new take on delicious Greek ‘street food’ to more Londoners. The openings continued across London with Bankside (2004), Marylebone (2005), Putney (2005) and Covent Garden (2006).
Theodore continues to consult with us and inspires our team of chefs on new dishes and menu evolution. He is also the author of the series of The Real Greek Cookbooks.
Sunday, 14 September 2008
Another birthday
My son and my friend Karen Firbank share the same birthday. Karen invited a bunch of her friends out for an Indian meal on Friday night. There she is above, lighting candles for atmosphere, wearing the Birthday Princess crown I bought her. She always brings me wacky things to wear on my birthday so I thought I'd do the same for her.
Did we have fun that night. We started the evening out toasting her birthday with a bottle of Perrier Jouet and made her open her presents first so we could see the look on her face....
Then it was on to the restaurant where bottles of Moet Chandon awaited us.
Here are some of the guests pictured with Karen. Aren't they all cute? :)
Hope you had a good birthday, Karen, and will have a fabulous year!
Saturday, 13 September 2008
Happy Birthday Mikey
My son is 15 years old today. In my mind, he is still my little baby (above) who needs my protection.
I used to be so central in his life, fighting his battles for him, trying to keep him safe, and trying to anticipate his problems and fix them.
Now life has changed for him, but I haven't caught up yet. He's his own person now. He doesn't need me to be so involved in his life anymore -- in fact, it would be detrimental for him for me to still be such a large figure in his life. But it's hard for me to understand! I feel cast aside. I have to do some more thinking on this and come to terms with the New Reality. My son is almost a man now. It's time for me to back off.
I like the imagery in the photo above -- my son is pushing me out to sea, as if to say Get Outta Here.
What imagination these ad people have
I saw this stirring political ad for Obama on YouTube. The idea and execution is so innovative and creative. Take a look:
Friday, 12 September 2008
Draining men's brains
My husband just sent me this article. I don't know if he wants me to feel sorry for him because sleeping in the same bed as me is 'draining his brain' or what. I'm the one who has to wear earplugs because of his snoring -- think what that is doing to my IQ.
"Bed sharing 'drains men's brains'
Sharing a bed with someone could temporarily reduce your brain power - at least if you are a man - Austrian scientists suggest. When men spend the night with a bed mate their sleep is disturbed, and this impairs their mental ability the next day.
The lack of sleep also increases a man's stress hormone levels.
According to the New Scientist study, women who share a bed fare better because they sleep more deeply."
"Bed sharing 'drains men's brains'
Sharing a bed with someone could temporarily reduce your brain power - at least if you are a man - Austrian scientists suggest. When men spend the night with a bed mate their sleep is disturbed, and this impairs their mental ability the next day.
The lack of sleep also increases a man's stress hormone levels.
According to the New Scientist study, women who share a bed fare better because they sleep more deeply."
Don't know why this is funny
Some of my Indian and Pakistani work pals were laughing yesterday at what they thought was a hysterical (faked) picture of the Musharraf, the erstwhile president of Pakistan, with some trained monkeys. They sent the photo to me so I could have a laugh but I just didn't get it at all. I guess it would be like me sending Sarah Palin doctored photos to them -- it wouldn't strike them as that funny.
I thought you all could check it out and see if you get it. I enjoyed them sharing it with me, even if it went over my head.
General Pervez Musharraf is the former President of Pakistan. Previously, he was Prime Minister of Pakistan as well as former Chief of Army Staff of the Pakistan Army. On 18 August 2008, in a nationally-televised speech, he announced his resignation as president of Pakistan.
I thought you all could check it out and see if you get it. I enjoyed them sharing it with me, even if it went over my head.
General Pervez Musharraf is the former President of Pakistan. Previously, he was Prime Minister of Pakistan as well as former Chief of Army Staff of the Pakistan Army. On 18 August 2008, in a nationally-televised speech, he announced his resignation as president of Pakistan.
Thursday, 11 September 2008
Interesting reading material
When we go on vacation, we read trashy magazines on the way out to get into a holiday mood. I took a pic of my kids in Heathrow aiport recently, and you can see how intellectual their choice of mags is.
Here's Katie:
And here's Mikey.
England has a relaxed attitude to nudity in print, and in general, really. One of their national daily newspapers has pictures of topless women in everyday.
I think one of the reasons English people are more relaxed about nudity than Americans is because you usually have to share one bathroom in a house, and in America, most everyone has their own! :) There's no way you aren't going to be exposed in some way when everyone in the family is sharing one bathtub/shower -- that's how it's been in my house anyway. We have very little toilet privacy.
Here's Katie:
And here's Mikey.
England has a relaxed attitude to nudity in print, and in general, really. One of their national daily newspapers has pictures of topless women in everyday.
I think one of the reasons English people are more relaxed about nudity than Americans is because you usually have to share one bathroom in a house, and in America, most everyone has their own! :) There's no way you aren't going to be exposed in some way when everyone in the family is sharing one bathtub/shower -- that's how it's been in my house anyway. We have very little toilet privacy.
Milton Berle's penis
Faithful reader Lisa has made snide remarks about wikipedia a few times in the Comments section, so now when my husband Mel refers to a wiki article as reference, he'll say 'sorry Lisa' as a nod to her skepticism over the accuracy of wiki.
Today she sent me this amusing message that must be shared with you:
"I was thinking about a comment one of my friends had made about Milton Berle, and I decided to follow Mel's lead and look it up on wiki:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Milton_Berle
It's paragraph three under the Uncle Miltie Offstage section. Who knew the wiki-contributing public was so knowledgeable?"
What Paragraph Three Says
The paragraph Lisa refers to does contain important facts about Uncle Miltie:
Berle was also famous within show business for the rumored size of his penis. Phil Silvers once told a story about standing next to Berle at a urinal, glancing down, and quipping, "You'd better feed that thing, or it's liable to turn on you!"
Saturday Night Live writer Alan Zweibel, who had written many Friars Club jokes about Berle's penis for other comedians, described being treated to a private showing: "He just takes out this— this anaconda. He lays it on the table and I'm looking into this thing, right? I'm looking into the head of Milton Berle's dick. It was enormous. It was like a pepperoni. And he goes, 'What do you think of the boy?'
And I'm looking right at it and I go, 'Oh, it's really, really nice.'" At a memorial service for Berle at the New York Friars' Club, Freddie Roman solemnly announced, "On May 1st and May 2nd, his penis will be buried."
Today she sent me this amusing message that must be shared with you:
"I was thinking about a comment one of my friends had made about Milton Berle, and I decided to follow Mel's lead and look it up on wiki:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Milton_Berle
It's paragraph three under the Uncle Miltie Offstage section. Who knew the wiki-contributing public was so knowledgeable?"
What Paragraph Three Says
The paragraph Lisa refers to does contain important facts about Uncle Miltie:
Berle was also famous within show business for the rumored size of his penis. Phil Silvers once told a story about standing next to Berle at a urinal, glancing down, and quipping, "You'd better feed that thing, or it's liable to turn on you!"
Saturday Night Live writer Alan Zweibel, who had written many Friars Club jokes about Berle's penis for other comedians, described being treated to a private showing: "He just takes out this— this anaconda. He lays it on the table and I'm looking into this thing, right? I'm looking into the head of Milton Berle's dick. It was enormous. It was like a pepperoni. And he goes, 'What do you think of the boy?'
And I'm looking right at it and I go, 'Oh, it's really, really nice.'" At a memorial service for Berle at the New York Friars' Club, Freddie Roman solemnly announced, "On May 1st and May 2nd, his penis will be buried."
Wednesday, 10 September 2008
Don Giovanni
Was at the opera in London last night -- Mozart's Don Giovanni.
Within the first few minutes, there was illicit sex then a murder. And people say opera is boring??
At the end, Don Giovanni must pay for his sins by being dragged down into the flames of hell by the man he murdered. It was great, and the Royal Opera House had big torches and flames on the set that they set alight so we were right there in the flames of hell too.
Really, though, the hell came afterwards when we were running to Paddington Station trying desperately to make one of the last fast trains of the night back to Reading.
Within the first few minutes, there was illicit sex then a murder. And people say opera is boring??
At the end, Don Giovanni must pay for his sins by being dragged down into the flames of hell by the man he murdered. It was great, and the Royal Opera House had big torches and flames on the set that they set alight so we were right there in the flames of hell too.
Really, though, the hell came afterwards when we were running to Paddington Station trying desperately to make one of the last fast trains of the night back to Reading.
House Lust
I've been reading an interesting book called "House Lust: America's Obsession with our Homes" by Daniel McGinn. The book's cover has these sub-titles on it:
An unyielding urge to make our houses bigger, bolder and more luxurious, no matter what the cost
An irrational desire for cathedral ceilings, mud rooms and natural stone countertops
The national pastime that is taking its toll on American wallets, relationships and mind
I enjoyed reading this section:
"...in the Jones-beating-Jones competition, housing has become the weapon of choice. Boston college economist Juliet Schor points to homes (along with clothing and automobiles) as a key element in the 'visible triad,' that trio of possessions that are most evident to the people we meet and factor most heavily into how we assess people's status. The idea that we spend money partly in an attempt to affect how others view us has been around at least since Thorstein Veblen coined the phrase 'conspicuous consumption' in the waning days of the 19th century. But in the 21st, when outlet stores and credit cards give nearly everyone access to designer clothing, and cheap lease deals can put middle-class people into luxury cards, our homes have emerged as the primary arena for this one-upmanship."
An unyielding urge to make our houses bigger, bolder and more luxurious, no matter what the cost
An irrational desire for cathedral ceilings, mud rooms and natural stone countertops
The national pastime that is taking its toll on American wallets, relationships and mind
I enjoyed reading this section:
"...in the Jones-beating-Jones competition, housing has become the weapon of choice. Boston college economist Juliet Schor points to homes (along with clothing and automobiles) as a key element in the 'visible triad,' that trio of possessions that are most evident to the people we meet and factor most heavily into how we assess people's status. The idea that we spend money partly in an attempt to affect how others view us has been around at least since Thorstein Veblen coined the phrase 'conspicuous consumption' in the waning days of the 19th century. But in the 21st, when outlet stores and credit cards give nearly everyone access to designer clothing, and cheap lease deals can put middle-class people into luxury cards, our homes have emerged as the primary arena for this one-upmanship."
Tuesday, 9 September 2008
Fat genes can be thwarted by 3-4 hours of exercise PER DAY
News on MSN today that you can overcome a genetic tendency to fat by exercising 3 to 4 hours a day! Argh. I thought I was doing great by going to the gym for 40 minutes every day. Is there any hope?
Story below:
"Maybe you CAN blame being fat on your genes. But there's a way to overcome that family history — just get three to four hours of moderate activity a day.
Sound pretty daunting?
Not for the Amish of Lancaster County, Pa., who were the focus of a new study on a common genetic variation that makes people more likely to gain weight. It turns out the variant's effects can be blocked with physical activity — lots of it."
On the other hand, the Daily Mail in London writes of a new shot that can control your hunger levels. But you know that it'll have horrible side effects that will mean it's not practical to use.
Here's the story:
"An injection that cures obesity could be available within five years, leading scientists claimed today.
Researchers at University College London are developing drugs to control a patient's hormone levels and effectively stop them feeling hungry.
The team made their breakthrough after they studied gastric band surgery and found the procedure altered levels of ghrelin - the so called "hunger hormone" - along with several other hormones related to glucose regulation. Now they hope to recreate the effect in a drug."
Story below:
"Maybe you CAN blame being fat on your genes. But there's a way to overcome that family history — just get three to four hours of moderate activity a day.
Sound pretty daunting?
Not for the Amish of Lancaster County, Pa., who were the focus of a new study on a common genetic variation that makes people more likely to gain weight. It turns out the variant's effects can be blocked with physical activity — lots of it."
On the other hand, the Daily Mail in London writes of a new shot that can control your hunger levels. But you know that it'll have horrible side effects that will mean it's not practical to use.
Here's the story:
"An injection that cures obesity could be available within five years, leading scientists claimed today.
Researchers at University College London are developing drugs to control a patient's hormone levels and effectively stop them feeling hungry.
The team made their breakthrough after they studied gastric band surgery and found the procedure altered levels of ghrelin - the so called "hunger hormone" - along with several other hormones related to glucose regulation. Now they hope to recreate the effect in a drug."
What to do about Christmas cards
I'm thinking of giving up Christmas cards this year. It seems so redundant when most of us see each other online through social networking or e-mail -- even those of us who live thousands of miles away from each other. I used to get photo cards printed up each year, but that was mostly so my mother could see her family, but she's gone now so I have lost my enthusiasm. And I never got address labels to work so I always ended up frantically addressing envelopes by hand on Sunday nights before Christmas.
Maybe I should just send picture postcards to older relatives who don't use the Internet so much? Then I could send e-mail Yuletide greetings to my cyber friends and relatives. I hate to be one of those who stops a tradition first in my circle but really, it seems like we have this communication thing covered now with the Internet.
I would have to send cards to my husband's family because Brits are really into card giving. You have to exchange cards with people you see at work every day too. That's always seemed a bit excessive to me, but part of my adopted culture, I guess.
Maybe I should just send picture postcards to older relatives who don't use the Internet so much? Then I could send e-mail Yuletide greetings to my cyber friends and relatives. I hate to be one of those who stops a tradition first in my circle but really, it seems like we have this communication thing covered now with the Internet.
I would have to send cards to my husband's family because Brits are really into card giving. You have to exchange cards with people you see at work every day too. That's always seemed a bit excessive to me, but part of my adopted culture, I guess.
Monday, 8 September 2008
Such a handsome Eugene Onegin
My daughter Katie is getting to be quite the opera fan. We are going to Don Giovanni on Wednesday night. Last night she called me to the TV to alert me that Eugene Onegin was on from the Met in NYC. I started watching right before the duel scene and was riveted by the Russian baritone doing Onegin. I'm putting up a video of him singing the aria when he discovers that he actually loves the woman he rejected years ago (ha, that never happens in Real Life, does it?) mainly so I can listen to this again and again myself.
I asked my Russian friend at work Vladimir if he knew the singer -- Dmitri Hvorostovsky. He said he's very famous in Russia. Apparently "hvorost" means "brushwood" in Russian, and is quite a rare name. Anyway, Dmitri lives in London, Vlad discovered, so maybe I can go celebrity-stalk him one day if I have time. Here is his website: Dmitri Hvorostovsky
I asked my Russian friend at work Vladimir if he knew the singer -- Dmitri Hvorostovsky. He said he's very famous in Russia. Apparently "hvorost" means "brushwood" in Russian, and is quite a rare name. Anyway, Dmitri lives in London, Vlad discovered, so maybe I can go celebrity-stalk him one day if I have time. Here is his website: Dmitri Hvorostovsky
Sending my mother a postcard
Every year we went on summer vacation, I would look for an interesting postcard to send my mother to cheer her up in the nursing home. Last year I sent her a card of the Tower of Pisa at night. She liked that one. This year I started looking at postcards before I realized that there's no one left to send a postcard to as my mother died last March. That made me feel sad so I thought I'd send her one anyway. I remember attending my grandmother's funeral and the rector said that she was still out there, only living at a 'different address.' (I later made fun of that remark to my family but now it comforts me.) So I put Mom's name on the postcard and wrote it and later burned it in the BBQ grill at our vacation house.
I wrote her how I was struggling with getting older and dealing with teens. Then because I was writing my mother, I confessed that in a recent photo we'd taken I noticed that I was starting to look like my grandmother Scanlon when she was about 65...I would never have been able to make that remark to anyone else.
My mother once told me that you get used to getting older and give up worrying about it. She could say that, though -- her Multiple Sclerosis affected her facial muscles so she had no wrinkles. There she was almost 80 (her birthday is in a few weeks), and she had not one wrinkle!
I think I'll keep sending her postcards from my summer vacations though as I think it did me good to write it all down. I mean, you never know if people get your vacation postcards anyway, so what's the difference?
I wrote her how I was struggling with getting older and dealing with teens. Then because I was writing my mother, I confessed that in a recent photo we'd taken I noticed that I was starting to look like my grandmother Scanlon when she was about 65...I would never have been able to make that remark to anyone else.
My mother once told me that you get used to getting older and give up worrying about it. She could say that, though -- her Multiple Sclerosis affected her facial muscles so she had no wrinkles. There she was almost 80 (her birthday is in a few weeks), and she had not one wrinkle!
I think I'll keep sending her postcards from my summer vacations though as I think it did me good to write it all down. I mean, you never know if people get your vacation postcards anyway, so what's the difference?
Sunday, 7 September 2008
Good King Who?
On my first day back at the office, I bit into a piece of chocolate with a caramel center and a crown came off a tooth with it. So I had to make an emergency appointment with the dentist. That was one expensive piece of chocolate! I had to pay $75 just to get the crown cemented down again.
While I was waiting on the phone to get an appointment, I was stunned to hear Good King Wenceslas blasting when the receptionist put me on hold. I hadn't even unpacked from my vacation yet, and the dentist office was pressuring/stressing me out with a reminder that Christmas was coming??
Here is the man himself (below). And if you would like to share the same experience I had while I was waiting to speak to the dentist's office, click on the link at the bottom of the post.
Good King Wenceslas canned music
While I was waiting on the phone to get an appointment, I was stunned to hear Good King Wenceslas blasting when the receptionist put me on hold. I hadn't even unpacked from my vacation yet, and the dentist office was pressuring/stressing me out with a reminder that Christmas was coming??
Here is the man himself (below). And if you would like to share the same experience I had while I was waiting to speak to the dentist's office, click on the link at the bottom of the post.
Good King Wenceslas canned music
Saturday, 6 September 2008
Weekend stuff
Such a rainy weekend! I can't believe that only last week I could go to the beach every day and float on the soft calm sea on my air bed. (Excuse for a photo -- below)
Just noticed I have my Obama baseball cap on in the photo. Obvious political bias, sorry.
This weekend, I have:
Finally learned to play Scrabble. I came in last in our family game just now, but I didn't make an absolute fool of myself.
Shopped for baby clothes for my niece, Lauralee in North Carolina. My mother loved her granddaughter who was named for her very much, so when I picked out some baby stuff I felt like I was doing it for my mother as well.
Took my son Mikey to a Chinese supermarket so he could practice Mandarin, and get some business cards in Chinese for his homework. English secondary schools (equivalent to American high schools) are starting to offer classes in Mandarin Chinese now as China is such an important country.
Met my friend Karen Blakeley for coffee in Reading, and we bought some earrings for ourselves. She's a great friend because you can talk politics and the stock market with her, yet she's still up for trying on lipsticks later.
Admired the huge box of Velveeta cheese from Chicago that Lisa brought back and mailed to me as a complete surprise last week. I am going to savor every last bite of this traditional American cheese product, you can bet. What a pal.
Checked for news on the American presidential race whenever I could. It's a thrilling contest, and I don't want to miss a second of breaking news. I have an Internet radio set up in the kitchen so I can get talk radio stations from the US.
Got important cat advice from Brenda in Mississippi in preparation for next Sunday when I have a feline addition to the family. Thanks Bren.
Just noticed I have my Obama baseball cap on in the photo. Obvious political bias, sorry.
This weekend, I have:
Finally learned to play Scrabble. I came in last in our family game just now, but I didn't make an absolute fool of myself.
Shopped for baby clothes for my niece, Lauralee in North Carolina. My mother loved her granddaughter who was named for her very much, so when I picked out some baby stuff I felt like I was doing it for my mother as well.
Took my son Mikey to a Chinese supermarket so he could practice Mandarin, and get some business cards in Chinese for his homework. English secondary schools (equivalent to American high schools) are starting to offer classes in Mandarin Chinese now as China is such an important country.
Met my friend Karen Blakeley for coffee in Reading, and we bought some earrings for ourselves. She's a great friend because you can talk politics and the stock market with her, yet she's still up for trying on lipsticks later.
Admired the huge box of Velveeta cheese from Chicago that Lisa brought back and mailed to me as a complete surprise last week. I am going to savor every last bite of this traditional American cheese product, you can bet. What a pal.
Checked for news on the American presidential race whenever I could. It's a thrilling contest, and I don't want to miss a second of breaking news. I have an Internet radio set up in the kitchen so I can get talk radio stations from the US.
Got important cat advice from Brenda in Mississippi in preparation for next Sunday when I have a feline addition to the family. Thanks Bren.
Other people's pets
Thanks for all the cat info I have received already. Here's a photo of Brenda's cat, and an anecdote. Brenda says the cat sits in her lap while she types on the computer so will be sure to be interested if a photo of herself appears on the Internet!
"Kipper, a.k.a "the Bit", proudly carrying her beloved wine cork, which she loves us to toss so she can fetch it back. This game can go on forever; I think she's actually a dog in cat disguise! Her second-favorite game is Wine Cork Hockey; she can play this all by herself. The goal is my husband's metal guitar stand in the corner of our family room; she makes points by batting the cork/puck behind it."
Let's see photos of other reader's pets! Send 'em to me -- I would love to see them and hear any amusing animal stories. I enjoyed hearing and posting about Ellen in Massachussett's horses Sneaks and Rocky last winter, for example.
"Kipper, a.k.a "the Bit", proudly carrying her beloved wine cork, which she loves us to toss so she can fetch it back. This game can go on forever; I think she's actually a dog in cat disguise! Her second-favorite game is Wine Cork Hockey; she can play this all by herself. The goal is my husband's metal guitar stand in the corner of our family room; she makes points by batting the cork/puck behind it."
Let's see photos of other reader's pets! Send 'em to me -- I would love to see them and hear any amusing animal stories. I enjoyed hearing and posting about Ellen in Massachussett's horses Sneaks and Rocky last winter, for example.
Katie the Human
Two cats lived at the house we rented in Spain. They were born there so came with the property. One was Money, and the other was Katie, the same name as my daughter.
Here's Money waiting for his dinner:
We had to start referring to my daughter as "Katie the Human" as she would answer when I called "Katie! Katie! Dinnertime" to the cat.
My son Mikey has always wanted a pet but we haven't felt able to do that because my husband and I work full time and didn't want to get a pet and not be able to take care of it. I had thought about a cat earlier when Mikey started cat-sitting for a neighbor but we live on a busy street, and cats get run over a lot on these roads. (Another neighbor was putting out leaflets looking for a missing kitten just a few weeks ago.)
But we had so enjoyed our time with the cats in Spain, that I started thinking about alternatives for Mikey's 15th birthday coming up on the 13th. Then I hit on Cat Fostering. There isn't an animal refuge in this part of Reading so the cat charity relies on people taking cats in until they can be adopted permanently elsewhere. The cats are strictly kept indoors so the busy-road aspect is not a problem anymore.
I called them up, they came over and 'vetted' us and the house, and we passed the test. Last night I got the news that we will have our first cat on the 14th. Her name is Minnie, and here's a pic below. I have never had a cat before so please send in any helpful tips if you can.
Here's Money waiting for his dinner:
We had to start referring to my daughter as "Katie the Human" as she would answer when I called "Katie! Katie! Dinnertime" to the cat.
My son Mikey has always wanted a pet but we haven't felt able to do that because my husband and I work full time and didn't want to get a pet and not be able to take care of it. I had thought about a cat earlier when Mikey started cat-sitting for a neighbor but we live on a busy street, and cats get run over a lot on these roads. (Another neighbor was putting out leaflets looking for a missing kitten just a few weeks ago.)
But we had so enjoyed our time with the cats in Spain, that I started thinking about alternatives for Mikey's 15th birthday coming up on the 13th. Then I hit on Cat Fostering. There isn't an animal refuge in this part of Reading so the cat charity relies on people taking cats in until they can be adopted permanently elsewhere. The cats are strictly kept indoors so the busy-road aspect is not a problem anymore.
I called them up, they came over and 'vetted' us and the house, and we passed the test. Last night I got the news that we will have our first cat on the 14th. Her name is Minnie, and here's a pic below. I have never had a cat before so please send in any helpful tips if you can.
Friday, 5 September 2008
Watching the Giants play
I went to the office gym during my lunch break because there is torrential rain today in England and for all the weekend, and I thought it would cheer me up to get some exercise. (I think I'm also going to order one of those SAD light boxes that my friend Linda recommended to see if that helps in the dark English winter that's coming.)
Anyway, I got on the treadmill and prepared to be bored after 5 minutes but for some reason, the gym had the highlights of an American football game running from last night. Well, you have to subscribe to a special sports cable channel to see American football so I was immediately interested. Then I saw it was the New York Giants versus the Washington Redskins. The Giants team is special to all Mississippians because Eli Manning, one of our native sons is the quarterback.
And they are even more special to me now because the last time I watched them play on TV was in the Superbowl in January. I was at the nursing home visiting my mother -- she died 5 weeks later -- so this memory is important to me. We were cheering on Eli, but then they put the lights out in the home at 8:00 so all the residents could go to sleep.
My mother, brother Kevin and I continued to watch the game, trying to not make a sound when something exciting happened because by that time, everyone in the home was snoozing.
But by the end of the thrilling finish, I jumped up from my chair cheering and Mom was happy too and I did a little victory dance -- I'm sorry to say I must have woken up a few of the patients there.
I won't say who won the game between the Redskins and the Giants from last night because my husband will watch a tape of it this weekend, and he would kill me if I put the results in here and he read it accidentally.
PS
I was so riveted watching the game on the gym's TV that I ended up going way past my normal time on the treadmill.
Me duelen los oidos
My son Mikey developed a bad earache during our vacation so we had to quickly learn all about the Spanish healthcare system. The first place we went was for specialists so that wasn't any good -- I managed to tell the receptionist about Mikey's earache in Spanish, and she said we needed to go somewhere else in another town.
I liked this sign in the waiting area:
In the meantime, Mel was trying to get the insurance company in England to authorize treatment -- we waited and tried to get more information from the medical offices where we were -- then I understood her Spanish pretty well when she informed us that the main medical offices in the next town closed for siesta in an hour. That put a fire under us. We drove to the next town and ran into an office with a Red Cross on it but it wasn't the right place. The clock was ticking, and Mikey was in pain and feeling nauseous.
We finally found the big public health center where no one spoke a word of English, and I discovered that you must have a medical tarjeta (a card) for any treatment at all. Mel was trying to get a card number from the insurance company in England and kept calling them then they said it's a Bank Holiday in England so there's no one around to do the admin work on that. (How come they didn't know that the first time he called?)
So then it was from Spanish public healthcare to a private doctor -- the only tarjeta he needed to see was a credit card (his office was so swish that he even had pieces of candy in the waiting room with his own branded wrappers on them, like we were in some upscale restaurant).
It turned out that Mikey has a very bad infection with one ear almost swollen shut so he has to take a lot of medicine and can't swim in the pool or in the sea for the rest of our trip. Pobrecito!
I loved this sign in one of the medical centers that we visited today.
Please don't throw your cigarettes on the floor!
I liked this sign in the waiting area:
In the meantime, Mel was trying to get the insurance company in England to authorize treatment -- we waited and tried to get more information from the medical offices where we were -- then I understood her Spanish pretty well when she informed us that the main medical offices in the next town closed for siesta in an hour. That put a fire under us. We drove to the next town and ran into an office with a Red Cross on it but it wasn't the right place. The clock was ticking, and Mikey was in pain and feeling nauseous.
We finally found the big public health center where no one spoke a word of English, and I discovered that you must have a medical tarjeta (a card) for any treatment at all. Mel was trying to get a card number from the insurance company in England and kept calling them then they said it's a Bank Holiday in England so there's no one around to do the admin work on that. (How come they didn't know that the first time he called?)
So then it was from Spanish public healthcare to a private doctor -- the only tarjeta he needed to see was a credit card (his office was so swish that he even had pieces of candy in the waiting room with his own branded wrappers on them, like we were in some upscale restaurant).
It turned out that Mikey has a very bad infection with one ear almost swollen shut so he has to take a lot of medicine and can't swim in the pool or in the sea for the rest of our trip. Pobrecito!
I loved this sign in one of the medical centers that we visited today.
Please don't throw your cigarettes on the floor!
Thursday, 4 September 2008
Drunken Brits
British tourists in Spain have the reputation of being hard-drinking, partying lager louts. In the Euro Weekly newspaper for expats in Spain, an article details how a reporter followed drunken British tourists were "knocking back shots, pints, spirits and coloured liquids that looked as if they should have been used to clean toilets...As the night wears on, the vomiting begins with some people not even being able to get up off the ground, let alone make it back to their hotel....Many years ago, the British tourist used to make headlines for being polite, well mannered and educated, a nation that was admired the world over. How the mighty have fallen!"
Another interesting article has the headline: Another Briton falls off balcony (we know the story without even having to read it -- he was climbing balconies when drunk and fell off, as you do.)
PS
Brits love to have all their native products in Spain, hence the following place:
Another interesting article has the headline: Another Briton falls off balcony (we know the story without even having to read it -- he was climbing balconies when drunk and fell off, as you do.)
PS
Brits love to have all their native products in Spain, hence the following place:
Wednesday, 3 September 2008
Listening to classical guitar in Spain
In the summer in resort towns, they have little festivals of music. We go if we can because it's an opportunity to hear music that you would never ordinarily go to. Last week we went to a concert in the cloister of church in Pollenca. The program featured the Menorcan orchestra and classical guitarist David Russell, and it was beautiful. You could look up at the stars while the music played and just feel your soul hum. Here he is:
The cloisters were full of Spaniards who all knew each other as Pollenca is a small community. It was interesting to watch the men greet each other with handshakes in the European way but after the concert started, some of them still talked like they were at a dinner party and not at a concert. Someone told the group near us to callete (shut up) so that worked for a bit. Then David Russell played some encore pieces that were so lyrical and passionate, and someone decided at that moment to open some candy wrappers. Pearls before swine, I thought; some of them didn't even appreciate what they were hearing.
The cloisters were full of Spaniards who all knew each other as Pollenca is a small community. It was interesting to watch the men greet each other with handshakes in the European way but after the concert started, some of them still talked like they were at a dinner party and not at a concert. Someone told the group near us to callete (shut up) so that worked for a bit. Then David Russell played some encore pieces that were so lyrical and passionate, and someone decided at that moment to open some candy wrappers. Pearls before swine, I thought; some of them didn't even appreciate what they were hearing.
Tuesday, 2 September 2008
Playing Scrabulous
My friend in Detroit started a Scrabble game online (www.scrabulous.com) and forced me to participate by doing the first word, putting me in the game and then sending a notification through the site that it was my turn. Now I am BAD at Scrabble -- my brain freezes up, I panic, so I never play.
But Elizabeth had so kindly started the game and included me so I thought I should do something. She put up the word DIVEST, and I tried to figure out what to do with my letters that had two Vs and two As. I had no idea what to do.
I e-mailed my family -- "are you up yet?" I asked (my kids are still at home, not yet back in school/college). "If so please help me." I e-mailed my husband and my friend Brenda too. I tried to think of a word. Hours later from the US, Brenda
e-mailed a couple of suggestions. One was DIVA so I went with that. Now I am blogging about this, and my husband has looked over my shoulder and told me that I put the letters in the wrong place, not in the double and trip point dark squares -- well, I didn't even know that! I'm going to have to take a crash course on Scrabble this weekend, and in the meantime, confess to Elizabeth that I had outside help.
But Elizabeth had so kindly started the game and included me so I thought I should do something. She put up the word DIVEST, and I tried to figure out what to do with my letters that had two Vs and two As. I had no idea what to do.
I e-mailed my family -- "are you up yet?" I asked (my kids are still at home, not yet back in school/college). "If so please help me." I e-mailed my husband and my friend Brenda too. I tried to think of a word. Hours later from the US, Brenda
e-mailed a couple of suggestions. One was DIVA so I went with that. Now I am blogging about this, and my husband has looked over my shoulder and told me that I put the letters in the wrong place, not in the double and trip point dark squares -- well, I didn't even know that! I'm going to have to take a crash course on Scrabble this weekend, and in the meantime, confess to Elizabeth that I had outside help.
Junk food in Spain
England doesn't have some of my favorite American junk food: Lay's and Ruffles potato chips. Spain, unfortunately does, so when I come here, I start buying bags of them and remember my youth. Every time, I'm only going to have a handful of them, and every time I eat too many. I know that Walker's crips (the stuff you eat in the UK) and Lay's potato chips are basically the same thing but in my heart, one is America and my childhood/young adulthood and the other is a new-fangled thing that isn't the same.
I've found an explanation for why this is from the excellent book Blink by Malcolm Gladwell:
"...there's the issue of what is called sensation transference. This is a concept coined by one of the great figures in twentieth-century marketing, a man called Louis Cheskin...Cheskin was convinced that when people give an assessment of something they buy in a supermarket or department store, without realizing it, they transfer sensations or impressions that they have about the packaging of the product to the product itself. To put it another way, Cheskin believed that most of us don't make a distinction -- on an unconscious level -- between the product and the package. The product is the package and the product combined."
(Cheskin successfully marketed unpalatable white margarine that no one would buy by coloring it yellow to resemble butter, by putting a crown on the package and calling it Imperial Margarine to make it seem regal and using foil to wrap it in as that was considered classy in the '40s.)
I've found an explanation for why this is from the excellent book Blink by Malcolm Gladwell:
"...there's the issue of what is called sensation transference. This is a concept coined by one of the great figures in twentieth-century marketing, a man called Louis Cheskin...Cheskin was convinced that when people give an assessment of something they buy in a supermarket or department store, without realizing it, they transfer sensations or impressions that they have about the packaging of the product to the product itself. To put it another way, Cheskin believed that most of us don't make a distinction -- on an unconscious level -- between the product and the package. The product is the package and the product combined."
(Cheskin successfully marketed unpalatable white margarine that no one would buy by coloring it yellow to resemble butter, by putting a crown on the package and calling it Imperial Margarine to make it seem regal and using foil to wrap it in as that was considered classy in the '40s.)
Monday, 1 September 2008
Still watching Gustav
I had to go back to work today at Nokia but I kept an eye on the Internet to see when Gustav hit Louisiana and what happened next. My cousin Susan Elizabeth Wells in Atlanta reported on her Facebook page about our family in New Orleans -- where they were, were they safe, etc. That has been such a comfort to me. My friend Brenda in Jackson, Mississippi, has been sending me reports too. I know she won't mind if I share this email she sent me earlier. I love the enchanting human-ness of her reaction to events:
It's starting to rain here in Mississippi, and I just made a big pot of coffee to put in a jar and save in case we lose power. I can live for a couple of days without food but I MUST have morning coffee!
I was watching the BBC, and they interviewed a New Orleans blogger who had bought a house in the flood area, painstakingly refurbished it, and then had to leave it because of Gustav. At the time of the interview, she didn't intend to leave. I figured today that she must have been forced to go so I searched the Internet for her blog. I found it, and it is so interesting. Check it out if you have time.
Katrina in New Orleans
It's starting to rain here in Mississippi, and I just made a big pot of coffee to put in a jar and save in case we lose power. I can live for a couple of days without food but I MUST have morning coffee!
I was watching the BBC, and they interviewed a New Orleans blogger who had bought a house in the flood area, painstakingly refurbished it, and then had to leave it because of Gustav. At the time of the interview, she didn't intend to leave. I figured today that she must have been forced to go so I searched the Internet for her blog. I found it, and it is so interesting. Check it out if you have time.
Katrina in New Orleans
An emense spelling error
I've blogged before about my husband Mel and my high-school friend who like to go around changing signs when store owners aren't around. Another high-school friend sent me this article (at the bottom of post) from the Washington Post to warn Mel to curb the sign changing when he's next in the US. My friend had recently sent me the following amusing e-mail on this very subject:
In the Kroger store where I shop, the bakery section put up a cheery sign advertising bread specials that reads, "Help! We Baked To Much!" I could stand it no longer, so a few weeks ago I took a Sharpie pen and added the missing "o" to "to." It's still there, but I bet the store manager is gonna come after me soon...you reckon? I'll write you from prison if so...
Original article below:
Typo fixers get probation for damaging rare sign
The Associated Press
Friday, August 22, 2008; 1:56 PM
PHOENIX -- When it comes to marking up historic signs, good grammar is a bad defense.
Two self-styled vigilantes against typos who defaced a more than 60-year-old, hand painted sign at Grand Canyon National Park were sentenced to probation and banned from national parks for a year.
Jeff Deck and Benjamin Herson pleaded guilty Aug. 11 for the damage done March 28 at the park's Desert View Watchtower. The sign was made by Mary Elizabeth Jane Colter, the architect who designed the rustic 1930s watchtower and other Grand Canyon-area landmarks.
Deck and Herson, both 28, toured the United States this spring, wiping out errors on government and private signs. They were interviewed by NPR and the Chicago Tribune, which called them "a pair of Kerouacs armed with Sharpies and erasers and righteous indignation.
An affidavit by National Park Service agent Christopher A. Smith said investigators learned of the vandalism from an Internet site operated by Deck on behalf of the Typo Eradication Advancement League, or TEAL.
Authorities said a diary written by Deck reported that while visiting the watchtower, he and Herson "discovered a hand-rendered sign inside that, I regret to report, contained a few errors."
The fiberboard sign has yellow lettering with a black background. Deck wrote that they used a marker to cover an erroneous apostrophe, put the apostrophe in its proper place with white-out and added a comma.
The misspelled word "emense" was not fixed, Deck wrote, because "I was reluctant to disfigure the sign any further. ... Still, I think I shall be haunted by that perversity, emense, in my train-whistle-blighted dreams tonight."
In the Kroger store where I shop, the bakery section put up a cheery sign advertising bread specials that reads, "Help! We Baked To Much!" I could stand it no longer, so a few weeks ago I took a Sharpie pen and added the missing "o" to "to." It's still there, but I bet the store manager is gonna come after me soon...you reckon? I'll write you from prison if so...
Original article below:
Typo fixers get probation for damaging rare sign
The Associated Press
Friday, August 22, 2008; 1:56 PM
PHOENIX -- When it comes to marking up historic signs, good grammar is a bad defense.
Two self-styled vigilantes against typos who defaced a more than 60-year-old, hand painted sign at Grand Canyon National Park were sentenced to probation and banned from national parks for a year.
Jeff Deck and Benjamin Herson pleaded guilty Aug. 11 for the damage done March 28 at the park's Desert View Watchtower. The sign was made by Mary Elizabeth Jane Colter, the architect who designed the rustic 1930s watchtower and other Grand Canyon-area landmarks.
Deck and Herson, both 28, toured the United States this spring, wiping out errors on government and private signs. They were interviewed by NPR and the Chicago Tribune, which called them "a pair of Kerouacs armed with Sharpies and erasers and righteous indignation.
An affidavit by National Park Service agent Christopher A. Smith said investigators learned of the vandalism from an Internet site operated by Deck on behalf of the Typo Eradication Advancement League, or TEAL.
Authorities said a diary written by Deck reported that while visiting the watchtower, he and Herson "discovered a hand-rendered sign inside that, I regret to report, contained a few errors."
The fiberboard sign has yellow lettering with a black background. Deck wrote that they used a marker to cover an erroneous apostrophe, put the apostrophe in its proper place with white-out and added a comma.
The misspelled word "emense" was not fixed, Deck wrote, because "I was reluctant to disfigure the sign any further. ... Still, I think I shall be haunted by that perversity, emense, in my train-whistle-blighted dreams tonight."
Contrasts make you truly appreciative
We had such a beautiful view of the mountains and Mediterranean from our rented house in Mallorca for the past two weeks. At night, we would sit on the terrace, listening to classical music from a station in Madrid and watch the sun set. How different from my life in urban Reading -- it was wonderful to be so secluded and have everything so peaceful. I think I would have never appreciated it if I didn't lead a different life normally. I think it's only through contrast that I truly appreciate things. For example:
If I wasn't so busy at the office, I wouldn't appreciate the stillness of my vacation time.
If I didn't live in England, I wouldn't savor trips to America like I do now.
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