When you eat a bagel, do you eat it plain – no butter, no cream cheese, no nothing?
Wouldn't that be like eating a potato plain? Who does that?
So I was flabbergasted when given the total – $1.79 – for my bagel with butter at Dunkin' Donuts the other day.
"Shut UP!" I exclaimed.
Nowhere on the sign above the counter does it say, "bagel with butter," $1.79. It says, "bagel, $1.19," and "bagel with cream cheese, $2.19."
In my decades of life, I always thought the butter was just automatically included with the bagel. Butter goes with bagels like dressing goes with salad, like ketchup goes with french fries. It's inseparable. Nobody eats a bagel plain!
As soon as I arrived at my desk at work after this shocking experience at Dunkin' Donuts, I shot off an email to Dunkin' Donuts headquarters.
The next day, I got a call from the One City Center franchise owner, "Tiffany." She said that all Dunkin' Donutses charge extra for butter, and that if I hadn't paid extra all my life, then I had been chronically undercharged.
What the charge pays for is the plastic knife and the butter, she said. And the toaster energy, if the bagel is toasted.
I still couldn't believe that Dunkin' Donuts had been charging me for butter all my life and I never noticed it. I thought "Tiff" was wrong.
So on my way to work, I stopped at a different Dunkin' Donuts.
At the drive-up, I got the standard "How can I help you?"
I asked for a plain bagel, which at this Dunkin' Donuts was priced at $1.09, and got the standard, "Would you like that toasted?"
"Is it going to cost me?" I asked.
"No," the voice said.
"What if I want butter? Is that going to cost me?" I asked.
After a pause, the voice said, "Yes, that would be $1.92."
Wow! 83 cents for butter!
I drove off, bagel-less, and headed to the next Dunkin' Donuts, where the butter similarly beefed up the bagel price.
Well, I guess Tiffany wasn't just yanking my chain. But I wasn't done yet.
For comparison's sake, I made a special trip to the Tim Horton's near the Maine Mall. Here the base price for a bagel was 99 cents. To my delight, there was no extra charge for knife, butter or toasting.
Their coffee isn't as good, but it's worth the money saved on butter.
Dunkin' Donuts should be ashamed of itself.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Memorial Day
I woke up half an hour before the parade was to start here in little Limerick, too late to walk a horse up the hill.
So Rex, Kayti and I enjoyed the festivities from the sidelines.
What really made this Memorial Day memorable was the scene across the street from where we stood. As the preacher intoned the benediction, a woman hustled a boy (presumably her son) to the side of the road, facing us, and he threw up, not just once, but time after time after time. It was bright orange, too.
It was so gross. I almost gagged. Just when we'd think he couldn't possibly have anything more coming out, more came out.
Well.
We spent the rest of the day trying to expunge the image from our minds' eyes.
Have a nice day!
So Rex, Kayti and I enjoyed the festivities from the sidelines.
What really made this Memorial Day memorable was the scene across the street from where we stood. As the preacher intoned the benediction, a woman hustled a boy (presumably her son) to the side of the road, facing us, and he threw up, not just once, but time after time after time. It was bright orange, too.
It was so gross. I almost gagged. Just when we'd think he couldn't possibly have anything more coming out, more came out.
Well.
We spent the rest of the day trying to expunge the image from our minds' eyes.
Have a nice day!
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Send Debbi to Fenway
Kayti is a finalist for Red Sox Kids Nation Captain, so please vote for her! She's one of 25 chosen from almost 1,000 entrants.
Of course, I think she deserves to become a Captain, based on her stellar platform (you can read her essay on the ballot), but the winners get to take a parent to a Red Sox game at Fenway Park, so there's an added incentive for me to get out the vote.
The link is at left. If that doesn't work, go to:
http://boston.redsox.mlb.com/bos/fan_forum/kn_captain_ballot_form.jsp
You can also go to redsox.com/kidnation and tell them to click on “Kid Nation Captains Contest” in the right navigation panel.
Of course, I think she deserves to become a Captain, based on her stellar platform (you can read her essay on the ballot), but the winners get to take a parent to a Red Sox game at Fenway Park, so there's an added incentive for me to get out the vote.
The link is at left. If that doesn't work, go to:
http://boston.redsox.mlb.com/bos/fan_forum/kn_captain_ballot_form.jsp
You can also go to redsox.com/kidnation and tell them to click on “Kid Nation Captains Contest” in the right navigation panel.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Kayti's View
For my 11-year-old daughter Kayti's take on our trip to Ohio, or on anything else she feels like opining about, check out her site: http://omegaz-7.deviantart.com/journal/
Sunday, May 16, 2010
The Hall of Fame
Rex is now a QRP Hall of Famer. He said this morning that if he hadn't been so incoherent with emotion while accepting the award, he would have thanked me and Kayti. "For my grudging support, you mean?" I asked innocently.
Now that he's been validated, he'll probably spend twice as much time on QRP. Don't see how that's possible, though, since he's already QRP-occupied 24/7.
We'll be leaving Ohio today, and not a moment too soon. I can't stand being in a room with this many mirrors. If hotel furnishers were smart, they'd put in mirrors that make you look good. It will be good to get home and be able to keep my eyes open in the bathroom.
It's actually quite chilly out today. Not the Ohio I've come to know and appreciate. My exit strategy for today -- the one I dictated to my family yesterday -- is in shambles, and it's only 8:50 a.m. Instead of dashing from MetroPark to MetroPark, taking the pictures I should have taken in the past few days, I'm doing laundry and cattle-prodding Rex to pack up his stuff.
Kayti, of course, is still in bed, sleeping soundly.
Now that he's been validated, he'll probably spend twice as much time on QRP. Don't see how that's possible, though, since he's already QRP-occupied 24/7.
We'll be leaving Ohio today, and not a moment too soon. I can't stand being in a room with this many mirrors. If hotel furnishers were smart, they'd put in mirrors that make you look good. It will be good to get home and be able to keep my eyes open in the bathroom.
It's actually quite chilly out today. Not the Ohio I've come to know and appreciate. My exit strategy for today -- the one I dictated to my family yesterday -- is in shambles, and it's only 8:50 a.m. Instead of dashing from MetroPark to MetroPark, taking the pictures I should have taken in the past few days, I'm doing laundry and cattle-prodding Rex to pack up his stuff.
Kayti, of course, is still in bed, sleeping soundly.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Geese Crossing
Try this for heart-stopping: You're barreling along on a six-lane divided highway, and suddenly, there's a mother goose, a father goose and about six goslings stepping out onto the asphalt right in front of you.
Kayti yells, "Mom, look out!" I swerve, barely missing them, Rex rips into me for putting humans at risk for the sake of a gosling or two.
We spent the next minute with our eyes glued to the rear-view mirror. To Ohioan drivers' credit, soon the road in front of the waddling geese looks like the starting line of a race. Six abreast, the cars rumble and idle while the mom and dad shepherd their youngsters across the highway.
After we'd finished our errand, we drove back to the hotel the same way and were vastly relieved to see the goose family resting comfortably on the grass on the side of the road where they'd been headed.
Rex, still p.o.'d that I'd swerved, told a story about doing the same thing once when he was driving a dump truck, to avoid squashing a painted turtle. He said his boss, who was driving another truck right behind him, was aghast, and to teach him a lesson, aimed for the turtle and flattened it.
Clearly, it was a lesson Rex never forgot!
Kayti yells, "Mom, look out!" I swerve, barely missing them, Rex rips into me for putting humans at risk for the sake of a gosling or two.
We spent the next minute with our eyes glued to the rear-view mirror. To Ohioan drivers' credit, soon the road in front of the waddling geese looks like the starting line of a race. Six abreast, the cars rumble and idle while the mom and dad shepherd their youngsters across the highway.
After we'd finished our errand, we drove back to the hotel the same way and were vastly relieved to see the goose family resting comfortably on the grass on the side of the road where they'd been headed.
Rex, still p.o.'d that I'd swerved, told a story about doing the same thing once when he was driving a dump truck, to avoid squashing a painted turtle. He said his boss, who was driving another truck right behind him, was aghast, and to teach him a lesson, aimed for the turtle and flattened it.
Clearly, it was a lesson Rex never forgot!
Friday, May 14, 2010
Possum Creek
Day 2: Mission MetroPark
Friday, May 14.
Germantown MetroPark proved a bit difficult to find. So after motoring along lovely, field-bordered, straight, flat roads for a futile half hour, I stopped at a cemetery office to ask a native. The native said he'd never heard of Germantown MetroPark. A woman in another office called out helpfully, "It's probably in Germantown."
They suggested I go to Possum Creek MetroPark , which was just up the road a piece, instead.
Possum Creek rates higher than Carriage Hill in my book. It's more interesting. There are preserved 1800s farms everywhere. You can't throw a stone around here without hitting one. Possum Creek, however, has an intriguing story. (Speaking of intriguing, I need to find out what the heck "Fifth Third" is. There's "Fifth Third" everything here, including a Fifth Third Bank.)
It seems that back around the turn of the last century, a Dayton couple surnamed Hodapp became parents to a baby boy they inexplicably (so far -- I intend to find out why) saddled with the name Null. Null's best friend from babyhood on forward was a fellow named Ralph Clemons. They had lots of boyhood adventures together, then enlisted in the Army and served together in World War I. Null survived the war, but Ralph was killed in the Argonne Forest -- get this -- one hour before the Armistice was signed.
Null was devastated. He never really got over the loss of his boon companion. He eventually became a judge in these parts, saved his money and began buying land. When he had some 200 acres, he turned the tract into a park, which he named "Argonne Forest Park" in honor of his unit, his friend Ralph, and the Armistice. Through the 1930s & '40s, people played ball, danced, swam, picnicked and even rented cabins there.
As you walk through the "Argonne Forest" today, you can see remnants of the park Null developed. It's reverted to woods, but Null's story gave me plenty to ponder as I traipsed past the rusted carcasses of the four streetcars he'd put to various uses, and the cracked cement dance floor, and the bridges built from stone. I'd like to know more about the guy. It's a touching story.
Today's park is 556 acres and includes a 100-acre farm with barnyard animals and activities for kids and families. I didn't make it over there. Mainly I just walked the trails and wondered if I would be able to remember Null Hodapp's name when I sat down to write this.
Here's something funny: After I picked up Rex & Kayti at the hamfest, I told them about not finding the Germantown park and stopping at the cemetery, etc. etc. As we drove back to the motel, Kayti saw a sign by the side of the road. "Is Natl Cemetery the one you stopped at today, Mom?" she asked. I'm like, Nattle Cemetery? Huh? Then I laugh. "Kayti, it's NATIONAL Cemetery. Natl is just an abbreviation."
Too funny. Kids are just so naturally hilarious!
Friday, May 14.
Germantown MetroPark proved a bit difficult to find. So after motoring along lovely, field-bordered, straight, flat roads for a futile half hour, I stopped at a cemetery office to ask a native. The native said he'd never heard of Germantown MetroPark. A woman in another office called out helpfully, "It's probably in Germantown."
They suggested I go to Possum Creek MetroPark , which was just up the road a piece, instead.
Possum Creek rates higher than Carriage Hill in my book. It's more interesting. There are preserved 1800s farms everywhere. You can't throw a stone around here without hitting one. Possum Creek, however, has an intriguing story. (Speaking of intriguing, I need to find out what the heck "Fifth Third" is. There's "Fifth Third" everything here, including a Fifth Third Bank.)
It seems that back around the turn of the last century, a Dayton couple surnamed Hodapp became parents to a baby boy they inexplicably (so far -- I intend to find out why) saddled with the name Null. Null's best friend from babyhood on forward was a fellow named Ralph Clemons. They had lots of boyhood adventures together, then enlisted in the Army and served together in World War I. Null survived the war, but Ralph was killed in the Argonne Forest -- get this -- one hour before the Armistice was signed.
Null was devastated. He never really got over the loss of his boon companion. He eventually became a judge in these parts, saved his money and began buying land. When he had some 200 acres, he turned the tract into a park, which he named "Argonne Forest Park" in honor of his unit, his friend Ralph, and the Armistice. Through the 1930s & '40s, people played ball, danced, swam, picnicked and even rented cabins there.
As you walk through the "Argonne Forest" today, you can see remnants of the park Null developed. It's reverted to woods, but Null's story gave me plenty to ponder as I traipsed past the rusted carcasses of the four streetcars he'd put to various uses, and the cracked cement dance floor, and the bridges built from stone. I'd like to know more about the guy. It's a touching story.
Today's park is 556 acres and includes a 100-acre farm with barnyard animals and activities for kids and families. I didn't make it over there. Mainly I just walked the trails and wondered if I would be able to remember Null Hodapp's name when I sat down to write this.
Here's something funny: After I picked up Rex & Kayti at the hamfest, I told them about not finding the Germantown park and stopping at the cemetery, etc. etc. As we drove back to the motel, Kayti saw a sign by the side of the road. "Is Natl Cemetery the one you stopped at today, Mom?" she asked. I'm like, Nattle Cemetery? Huh? Then I laugh. "Kayti, it's NATIONAL Cemetery. Natl is just an abbreviation."
Too funny. Kids are just so naturally hilarious!
A Symmetrical State
O. Hi. O.
I visited my first Dayton MetroPark yesterday -- Carriage Hills Farm in Huber Heights. It's a preserved late 1800s farm, and if you get there between 8:30 and 10:30 a.m., you can help with chores.
Of course, I assiduously made sure I did not get there until about 3 p.m. Whatever assiduously means.
It's lush and pretty and smells good and I tramped one of the walking trails. They're color-coded and range from .7 miles to 3.4 miles. I chose the 1.5-miler, mainly because as I was driving to the park, I was informed by a radio announcer that there was a tornado watch in effect. Much as I love wild weather, I did not want to be caught in the path of a tornado.
For those of you who have never had to worry about a tornado, here's what you do if one comes at you, according to the 90-ish volunteer handing out pamphlets at the park:
Find a depression in the ground, or the lowest point around. Lie face down. Try to become one with the earth. Hope that the tornado jumps over you.
I didn't find it necessary to fling myself into a depression, thank heaven, because I like ticks almost as much as I like tornados. I still shook two ticks out of my hair back at the hotel.
Today I shall explore one or two of the other MetroParks. If I can tear myself away from this computer!
I visited my first Dayton MetroPark yesterday -- Carriage Hills Farm in Huber Heights. It's a preserved late 1800s farm, and if you get there between 8:30 and 10:30 a.m., you can help with chores.
Of course, I assiduously made sure I did not get there until about 3 p.m. Whatever assiduously means.
It's lush and pretty and smells good and I tramped one of the walking trails. They're color-coded and range from .7 miles to 3.4 miles. I chose the 1.5-miler, mainly because as I was driving to the park, I was informed by a radio announcer that there was a tornado watch in effect. Much as I love wild weather, I did not want to be caught in the path of a tornado.
For those of you who have never had to worry about a tornado, here's what you do if one comes at you, according to the 90-ish volunteer handing out pamphlets at the park:
Find a depression in the ground, or the lowest point around. Lie face down. Try to become one with the earth. Hope that the tornado jumps over you.
I didn't find it necessary to fling myself into a depression, thank heaven, because I like ticks almost as much as I like tornados. I still shook two ticks out of my hair back at the hotel.
Today I shall explore one or two of the other MetroParks. If I can tear myself away from this computer!
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Dead time in Ohio
Whatever possessed me to think accompanying Kayti and Rex to the Ohio "hamvention" would be a fun time? I should know better -- I went to the Missouri one last year, as those of you who look at my old blog know.
Rex has pressed me into service putting together kits for his display at the informal vendor's night tonight. I had other plans! What about them?
We stayed in Niagara Falls, Canada, our first night out. As anyone could have predicted, Customs pulled us aside so as to question Rex closely about his van full of suspicious-looking electronic parts. It was freezing out, and the agents made us stand outside while they investigated.
I'm always amazed at how serious Customs agents are. I know, they have to be, they are protecting their country. I'm not complaining. It's just that people like Rex think they are so innocuous that they can joke around with Customs agents. All that does is make the agents more suspicious.
The first one saw Kayti and asked, "Doesn't she go to school?" and then, "Why ISN'T she in school?" like we were kidnappers or something. Well, I suppose we could be. Although we might be a bit more selective if we were kidnappers. Kidding! Honest!
The hotel we stayed at charged us $10 for parking and there was a bottle of water on the desk in our room with a sign saying, "Enjoy this water if you like! Only $4.50!" We were afraid to do anything for fear we'd get charged. In fact, the next day at the falls, I bought a coffee & two hot chocolates at Tim Horton's, and when the woman asked if I wanted a carry tray, I said no, because I figured I'd have to leave a deposit.
Now we're in Ohio, and it looks just like Missouri. The trouble with these conventions is that they're all held in hotels near a lot of shopping centers. It's very generic. Everything looks exactly the same as everywhere else. These ham people don't care.
Meanwhile, back in Maine, our housesitter is threatening to take our puppy and run away to Alaska. He just loves her! I think he told Rex this morning that he'd be happy if we'd stay away for another week or two.
Tell me again why I came here for a good time!
Rex has pressed me into service putting together kits for his display at the informal vendor's night tonight. I had other plans! What about them?
We stayed in Niagara Falls, Canada, our first night out. As anyone could have predicted, Customs pulled us aside so as to question Rex closely about his van full of suspicious-looking electronic parts. It was freezing out, and the agents made us stand outside while they investigated.
I'm always amazed at how serious Customs agents are. I know, they have to be, they are protecting their country. I'm not complaining. It's just that people like Rex think they are so innocuous that they can joke around with Customs agents. All that does is make the agents more suspicious.
The first one saw Kayti and asked, "Doesn't she go to school?" and then, "Why ISN'T she in school?" like we were kidnappers or something. Well, I suppose we could be. Although we might be a bit more selective if we were kidnappers. Kidding! Honest!
The hotel we stayed at charged us $10 for parking and there was a bottle of water on the desk in our room with a sign saying, "Enjoy this water if you like! Only $4.50!" We were afraid to do anything for fear we'd get charged. In fact, the next day at the falls, I bought a coffee & two hot chocolates at Tim Horton's, and when the woman asked if I wanted a carry tray, I said no, because I figured I'd have to leave a deposit.
Now we're in Ohio, and it looks just like Missouri. The trouble with these conventions is that they're all held in hotels near a lot of shopping centers. It's very generic. Everything looks exactly the same as everywhere else. These ham people don't care.
Meanwhile, back in Maine, our housesitter is threatening to take our puppy and run away to Alaska. He just loves her! I think he told Rex this morning that he'd be happy if we'd stay away for another week or two.
Tell me again why I came here for a good time!
Sunday, May 9, 2010
State of the Farm Address
It's Mother's Day! Thanks to Rex & Kayti for giving me motherhood. It's the best adventure of my life.
I'm writing today because my husband wants me to. That's because some of his friends tune in from time to time and he wants them to read about HIM!
Rex, Kayti and I are about to embark on a road trip to Ohio, for -- what else? -- a ham radio convention. Don't worry -- I can broadcast this on the Web because our place will be well occupied by a housesitter/animalsitter, plus our two ferocious shih tzus and one really scary Australian shepherd puppy.
The Aussie is new. Kayti and I gave her to Rex for his birthday, which conveniently arrived the same day we could pick her up. Her name is radio related, of course: Crystal. Also new at the farm is an old, skinny Belgian mare named Belle. I'm determined to fatten her up and get her coat gleaming and shining until she is the most beautiful horse on earth! This means, of course, that I have to work more to make more money for hay. As Rex says, I'm now working for 6 bales an hour.
I've hired a friend of ours, Tim, to restore my wagon. Ostensibly, this was to involve simply replacing the rotted wood with new. Sadly, by the time he removed all the rotted wood, all that was left was the axles! So he is rebuilding it from the axles up, and I am very excited about it.
I'm at work, so must sign off. Till next time ....
I'm writing today because my husband wants me to. That's because some of his friends tune in from time to time and he wants them to read about HIM!
Rex, Kayti and I are about to embark on a road trip to Ohio, for -- what else? -- a ham radio convention. Don't worry -- I can broadcast this on the Web because our place will be well occupied by a housesitter/animalsitter, plus our two ferocious shih tzus and one really scary Australian shepherd puppy.
The Aussie is new. Kayti and I gave her to Rex for his birthday, which conveniently arrived the same day we could pick her up. Her name is radio related, of course: Crystal. Also new at the farm is an old, skinny Belgian mare named Belle. I'm determined to fatten her up and get her coat gleaming and shining until she is the most beautiful horse on earth! This means, of course, that I have to work more to make more money for hay. As Rex says, I'm now working for 6 bales an hour.
I've hired a friend of ours, Tim, to restore my wagon. Ostensibly, this was to involve simply replacing the rotted wood with new. Sadly, by the time he removed all the rotted wood, all that was left was the axles! So he is rebuilding it from the axles up, and I am very excited about it.
I'm at work, so must sign off. Till next time ....
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Bombs away
I really think people make movies about fantastic ideas because there's no other way to get these fantastic ideas realized. That's because no one dares to actually try these fantastic ideas in real life.
Take, for example, the concept of "killing them with kindness." After 9/11, what if instead of bombing the hell out of Afghanistan -- after which, of course, we felt obliged to go in and clean up our mess, costing nearly 1,000 American lives so far -- we just skipped Part A and went directly to Part B and started the rebuilding immediately? God knows Afghanistan needed it even before we bombed it!
Granted, some people would laugh at us derisively, and I dare say 99 percent of the American public would be outraged. What -- al-Qaida attacks us in spectacular fashion, and we respond by being NICE????
I'm not saying I can predict what would happen. I'm not even saying I can speculate on what I'd LIKE to happen. However, I CAN say that bombing is probably the least original, and maybe the least effective, response. Is al-Qaida on the run today? Hardly. Where's Osama bin Laden? Who knows? (I personally think he's hiding in a burqa, and goes wherever he damn well pleases. Cave on the Pakistan border, my foot.)
It certainly wouldn't hurt to just once try a radically different approach and it would be fascinating to see what happens.
Another name for this approach is "turning the other cheek," something advocated by none other than Jesus Christ, whom much of our country claims to regard as the savior of the human race. Maybe Jesus should have just made a movie about it, since, apparently, everyone thinks it's a fairy tale anyway.
Take, for example, the concept of "killing them with kindness." After 9/11, what if instead of bombing the hell out of Afghanistan -- after which, of course, we felt obliged to go in and clean up our mess, costing nearly 1,000 American lives so far -- we just skipped Part A and went directly to Part B and started the rebuilding immediately? God knows Afghanistan needed it even before we bombed it!
Granted, some people would laugh at us derisively, and I dare say 99 percent of the American public would be outraged. What -- al-Qaida attacks us in spectacular fashion, and we respond by being NICE????
I'm not saying I can predict what would happen. I'm not even saying I can speculate on what I'd LIKE to happen. However, I CAN say that bombing is probably the least original, and maybe the least effective, response. Is al-Qaida on the run today? Hardly. Where's Osama bin Laden? Who knows? (I personally think he's hiding in a burqa, and goes wherever he damn well pleases. Cave on the Pakistan border, my foot.)
It certainly wouldn't hurt to just once try a radically different approach and it would be fascinating to see what happens.
Another name for this approach is "turning the other cheek," something advocated by none other than Jesus Christ, whom much of our country claims to regard as the savior of the human race. Maybe Jesus should have just made a movie about it, since, apparently, everyone thinks it's a fairy tale anyway.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Birthday
I had forgotten today was my birthday until Rex mumbled something about the dogs leaving a birthday present for me in the bathroom. Someone had inadvertently shut them in there overnight, and instead of barking insanely and scratching at the door to let us know, they just amused themselves by ripping open a trash bag that had been put in there for the express purpose of not letting them do what they did with it.
Usually we get a big snowstorm on my birthday. The weather being what it is this year, we are getting a big rainstorm instead. It would snow if it could!
I've been thinking about when I was 17, and if I could have envisioned where I am today, 40 years later. Did I think I would be:
1. 30 pounds overweight? (no, but I never thought I WOULDN'T be, either)
2. Married? (sort of hoped so)
3. Mother of one? (horrors!)
4. Still searching for a purpose in life? (yes)
5. Not a world-famous author? (no)
6. Sore in practically every tendon? (no)
7. Still trying to play trombone? (no)
8. Desperate for breast-reduction surgery? (no)
9. Afflicted with an inexplicable lust for sparkles? (never!)
10. Still living in Maine? (no)
11. Owner of two shih-tzus? (those aren't real dogs!)
I've either been a major coward or somewhere along the line become inhabited by an alien.
Oh well, I still have my sense of humor! Thank heaven for that!
Usually we get a big snowstorm on my birthday. The weather being what it is this year, we are getting a big rainstorm instead. It would snow if it could!
I've been thinking about when I was 17, and if I could have envisioned where I am today, 40 years later. Did I think I would be:
1. 30 pounds overweight? (no, but I never thought I WOULDN'T be, either)
2. Married? (sort of hoped so)
3. Mother of one? (horrors!)
4. Still searching for a purpose in life? (yes)
5. Not a world-famous author? (no)
6. Sore in practically every tendon? (no)
7. Still trying to play trombone? (no)
8. Desperate for breast-reduction surgery? (no)
9. Afflicted with an inexplicable lust for sparkles? (never!)
10. Still living in Maine? (no)
11. Owner of two shih-tzus? (those aren't real dogs!)
I've either been a major coward or somewhere along the line become inhabited by an alien.
Oh well, I still have my sense of humor! Thank heaven for that!
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Know Thyself
It was St. Patrick's Day, 1990, and the Weaverville, Calif., bar was rockin' all around me. I'd just arrived from Oregon, in my trusty Mazda truck, checked into a hotel and beat feet for a bit of music and dancing.
So there I sat at The Sawmill's bar, conversing with a really unattractive guy. I was drinking beer, and I wasn't holding back, either.
I have to give myself a lot of credit, though. At a certain, crucial point in my imbibing, I actually said to myself: "If I don't get away from this guy now, he's going to start to look good."
I most definitely did not want him to start to look good. So I slipped off the stool, and with a tip o' the hat, sashayed into the crowd and started a conga line.
Sadly, this was the first time I'd ever consciously recognized that certain, crucial point in time to avoid certain embarrassing experiences. More on those never!
So there I sat at The Sawmill's bar, conversing with a really unattractive guy. I was drinking beer, and I wasn't holding back, either.
I have to give myself a lot of credit, though. At a certain, crucial point in my imbibing, I actually said to myself: "If I don't get away from this guy now, he's going to start to look good."
I most definitely did not want him to start to look good. So I slipped off the stool, and with a tip o' the hat, sashayed into the crowd and started a conga line.
Sadly, this was the first time I'd ever consciously recognized that certain, crucial point in time to avoid certain embarrassing experiences. More on those never!
Friday, January 8, 2010
The Dentist
I had to make an emergency visit to the dentist today. His office is actually closed on Fridays, but he happened to be there when he got my message, so he invited me to come in.
First, let me say two things: One, my dentist is an artiste. He loves his work and is exceptionally good at it. Exceptionally. Did I say he's exceptional? Second, there is nothing I would rather not read about than someone's dental trials. One's teeth and their problems are endlessly fascinating to the person who's suffering, but no one else wants to hear about it.
The good news is, I'm not going to explain what my problem was! Suffice it to say, it was not overly painful and, as Dr. Seekins said, "Not fatal. At least to the tooth."
Ronnie Seekins is 3 years older than me and was in my mother's 6th grade class when she taught in Cumberland, Maine, many years ago. I used to correct his papers, as I rarely fail to remind him.
He makes me laugh, but what's even better, as far as I'm concerned, is he has this effect of kind of unleashing my sense of humor. Which is a drawback in a way, because I think of so many funny ideas while my mouth is propped open with, usually, two dentist hands in it. So I have to save up my best lines for when I get back in control of my speaking apparatus. Otherwise, I end up either biting Ron or saying something like, "Auw ghaaa aah igga oo."
Just a little example. While I was in the chair, there was a plumber in the basement working on the pipes. We heard some screeches, and Ron explained that the plumber was twisting some pipes. Then we heard a saw, which Ron explained was the plumber using a saw. (You can see why this guy cracks me up!)
At one point in my treatment, the doc says, "I'm glad you came in today," referring, of course, to the state of my tooth.
What comes into my mind? A great retort that I can't say: "Yeah, now you can pay the plumber."
I filed that one away, waiting for an opportunity to use it.
That moment arrived fairly quickly. As I was leaving, we were discussing paying and when to pay and how to pay, seeing as there were no clerical workers around. I finally said, "How 'bout I just give a check to the plumber?"
That's the kind of fun I have all day long. Don't you wish you were me?
First, let me say two things: One, my dentist is an artiste. He loves his work and is exceptionally good at it. Exceptionally. Did I say he's exceptional? Second, there is nothing I would rather not read about than someone's dental trials. One's teeth and their problems are endlessly fascinating to the person who's suffering, but no one else wants to hear about it.
The good news is, I'm not going to explain what my problem was! Suffice it to say, it was not overly painful and, as Dr. Seekins said, "Not fatal. At least to the tooth."
Ronnie Seekins is 3 years older than me and was in my mother's 6th grade class when she taught in Cumberland, Maine, many years ago. I used to correct his papers, as I rarely fail to remind him.
He makes me laugh, but what's even better, as far as I'm concerned, is he has this effect of kind of unleashing my sense of humor. Which is a drawback in a way, because I think of so many funny ideas while my mouth is propped open with, usually, two dentist hands in it. So I have to save up my best lines for when I get back in control of my speaking apparatus. Otherwise, I end up either biting Ron or saying something like, "Auw ghaaa aah igga oo."
Just a little example. While I was in the chair, there was a plumber in the basement working on the pipes. We heard some screeches, and Ron explained that the plumber was twisting some pipes. Then we heard a saw, which Ron explained was the plumber using a saw. (You can see why this guy cracks me up!)
At one point in my treatment, the doc says, "I'm glad you came in today," referring, of course, to the state of my tooth.
What comes into my mind? A great retort that I can't say: "Yeah, now you can pay the plumber."
I filed that one away, waiting for an opportunity to use it.
That moment arrived fairly quickly. As I was leaving, we were discussing paying and when to pay and how to pay, seeing as there were no clerical workers around. I finally said, "How 'bout I just give a check to the plumber?"
That's the kind of fun I have all day long. Don't you wish you were me?
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