Merry Christmas Happy Holidays etc.

Looking for one word to describe the year in Iowa this year:  wet.  Very good for the garden, not so good for levees in various places.  Downtown Des Moines had its share of flooding, but West Des Moines was dry.

As usual, we traveled with Colts Drum and Bugle corps this year.  David went one week, I went another.  After my stint, we had family time in Chicago.  So fun to have Uncle Rich and Aunt Marlene Hopper and GG (greatgrandma,my Mom) to help spoil Caitlin.  We took her to Taste of Chicago and the Shedd Aquarium.    Caitlin loves fish and turtles and frogs, so the aquarium was a big hit.  She'll be 3 in March.

And by that time she will have a little sister.  Jennifer and Brendan are expecting again in February.  We do know it's another girl, but the name is up in the air.  I'm sure this space will have more news at it happens.

Our downer moment this year was GG's breast cancer.  Luckily, it was found early and was treatable.  No chemo, but some radiation.  Her prognosis is fabulous.  We feel lucky.  This was found during her routine mammogram, so pop 'em out there, ladies.

And the late news is that Aaron and Sebastian will be marching in the inaugural parade on January 20.  The drum corps was selected.  We are all pumped, and David and I are going as volunteers.  Can't wait.

David and I ran all over.  We went to San Francisco and Seattle this year for flower shows.  I ate like there was no tomorrow.  Fresh seafood for days.  David went to Miami and New York.I had a weekend with the girls at a mystery convention in Omaha.  Way fun and the writer of the new HBO series True Blood was there.  The woman is a stitch.  Then we took a week in October to go to Kansas City and do shopping, mostly for Christmas.  Next year I'm sure we'll spend quite a lot of time in Chicago at the kids' new house with the kids' new baby (and Caitlin, too).

Sebastian and Shanna are in Tallahassee.  Shanna is finishing her Master's degree in Music Therapy, and Sebastian is working for Florida State as an academic advisor.  Their first year anniversary is soon.  

Clark and Aaron live with us.  Clark works the help desk for Mediacom and Aaron is a desk clerk at our Sheraton.  Both doing all right.

Otherwise, we work in the garden, cook up a storm, and spoil anybody we can.

Marketing again

Could I get anymore disgusted with American business if I tried?  What is it this time?

I'm getting really tired of getting "IMPORTANT INFORMATION CONCERNING MY ACCOUNT" which turns out to be paper telemarketing.  What I'm wondering about is what the rationale is here.

I've been told that when I get something like this the entire reason for doing it this way is so that I will open it.  I can't see how my opening it, becoming angry, and discarding it adds anything except the middle step.  They've taken away moments of my life.  I want them back.  I want them to clearly mark on the envelope that this envelope contains a miserable attempt to get you to buy life insurance and has sod all to do with your account.  We, the company you chose to do business with, have again wantonly sold your information to a third party without your knowledge or consent.

I'm not interested in life insurance.  In face I don't believe in it.  If I want my money invested for my old age, I don't need an insurance company as middle man to do this for me.  I can do this just fine myself.  And if I can't, I don't have the money to give someone else to do for me.

My point is here, admittedly obscured by the ranting, that I am much happier with straightforward advertisements.  Just tell me what you have to sell, and I'll act accordingly. Don't treat me like a patsy.  My reaction to being treated as if I'm too stupid to realize what you're doing is to quit doing business with you.  And to write you scathing letters and emails.  That you then have to deal with because I mark them important.  Two can play at this game.

Just tell me what you are after.  No "courtesy calls" or "important" or anything.  State your business and move on.  We'll both be happier.

J. K. Rowling

I just read the end of the trial story about the suit brought by Rowling against someone trying to publish a fan book of Harry Potter.  I'm trying to ignore the David and Goliath aspects of the suit and not think about all the trite sayings about using nuclear weapons to kill a gnat.This is purely a protection of copyright case.  But it so not simple.

From an economic point of view, why should someone make money from Harry Potter besides Rowling?  From years of working at a book store, I can tell you that this new Lexicon would have sold like hot cakes.  When something is as hot as the Potter series, anything remotely connected with it flies off the shelves.  That includes books that are "kinda" like it.  She hasn't tried to stop publication of the various fantasy/witchcraft young adult books obviously "inspired" by the incredible success of her series.  Some are painfully close to plagiarism.  But she has let other writers profit in this way from her success.  She hasn't even made tacky remarks.  I'm sure I couldn't have restrained myself when the main characters are named something almost as blatant as Henry Porter.

Apparently her concern is only with her own characters.  And this is essential in maintaining copyright because you can lose some protection if you don't actively pursue those who try to use your copyright.  It's why Disney prosecutes all the piddly stuff like children's cakes sold commercially with Mickey on them.  The Mouse is the franchise.  Lose him, lose the company. Rowling wants to maintain a tight hold on her own work.

The next point gets so sticky that I'm not sure how I feel about it.  The person writing the Lexicon says it falls under the same category of any other critical work about a piece of literature.  This means that Tolkien guides and guides to James Joyce and all sorts of explanations of books could only be published under the watchful eye of the author or and here's the real catch, the author's estate.  This has caused all sorts of misery for literary critics and biographers.  What can someone say without going beyond the limit for quoting material?

My experience with other critical works makes me side with the Lexicon author here.  I would never have made it through Ulysses without lots and lots of critical help.  And sometimes, especially with place names, I was so lost in Middle Earth without some sort of guide.  I'm glad someone did the work so I could look up all the places and get situated.  

That being said, I don't think Harry Potter is that complex.  I don't see what you actually need a lexicon for.  Exposition is at the ready in all the books.  And the place names and spell names, etc. are puns.  Diagon Alley, indeed.  If you need someone to explain that as diagonally, you are way too slow on the uptake to be reading these books.

I'm at impasse along with the judge in the case.  This is a part of the law that is ill-defined.  My puritan soul says you shouldn't profit from someone else's labor.  Or words.  But my sense of fair makes me wonder how bad it would be for this guy to make several thousand on a dictionary.  If it were a novel that used the characters, no contest.  But criticism is different. Absolutely.  So if it's criticism, fine.  If it's her novels broken into smaller units, not fine.  Where's Solomon when you need him?

Nascar, Part Deux

I realize I'm a poster child for, oh wait shiney thing, attention deficit, but I'm getting bored with Nascar.  I really used to like to watch the exciting races which came right down to the line with at least 2 cars beatin' and bangin'.  Not so much.

And really I can't decide if it's them or me.  I became irritated with the ignorant cracker and the rhinestone cowboy way before I usually do.  The "definitely probably" construction started to bug me the second time this season that it came out of his mouth.  If I see another cowboy hat, it'll be too soon.  And a gopher?  Is this Caddyshack?  Is it even the coverage?  Or is it the races?

The races should have had me in hog heaven.  No Hendrick car won, and they were trading around who was gonna win.  Even Jeff Burton already won.  But watching the network wring its hands over poor jeffy and jimmie and above all jr, sorta took the edge off.

Then Nascar weighed in and docked a zillion points from Carl because he getting uppity.  Oh wait it was that they cheated.  It wasn't 'cause it looked he was gonna blow Hendrick outta the water with a Roush car.  Hey, Ford can you please increase your payments to Nascar?

And I am stunned by the unraveling of Richard Petty Enterprises.  Can someone not help these guys with a net to stop the free fall?  It pains me to watch Kyle struggle week and week.  I do remember when Kyle was competitive.  And then Davy died and it all went south.

Maybe I miss the old guys.  Maybe I'm not as engaged by the new young guys.  That's a dumb thing to think when it is so very much fun to watch Kyle Busch have his way with a car.  I don't know that that is driving in the old sense of the word, but it is entertainment.  And sometimes, comedy.  He has every bit as much talent with car handling as The Revered Intimidator.  And he's more fun.  

I guess it's mostly fox, who apparently can ruin anything.  I don't watch the pre-race stuff because I can't stand jimmy the mouth spencer.  No that's not just cable blowhard.  His comments about Kelly Earnhardt woulda got him tossed and and tarred and feathered on any other venue.  And not because of who she is.  Because of the lack of respect for women.  Who watch the sport.  And don't appreciate it.  

Maybe when the dust settles and we're on to ESPN, it'll get interesting.  And maybe it's the on again off again nature so far.  Every weekend I could really watch, no race.  Every weekend I was traveling,  races up the wazoo.  The races haven't reached their stride yet.

Here's hoping.

Menopause

First of all it's not funny.  I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw Menopause the musical comedy being advertised.  Comedy?  This isn't comedy.  I wouldn't wish this on well wait there are a few people I might wish this on.  Most of them male.

There is a poignant irony about how things change.  I used to hold my breath to be sure that another period was coming and not another child.  I wanted it to come to reassure me that I wasn't pregnant.  Again.  Now I would do lots of things just to get a break from my period.  Any break.  Just skip one.  Just go away.

And I think when you notice your own mood swings that this is real trouble.  Mostly you think it's someone else when you start perceiving the world differently.  Nope I know it's some hormone rush from somewhere.  I'd just like it to stop.

For the squeamish, this is a warning.  Turn away now.

The periods themselves are from hell.  I used to be able to almost ignore the fact that I had a period.  No cramps, no real excessive bleeding.  Just a gentle little thing.  Maybe every 30 days, maybe 45.  No bigs.

Now I cramp so much it wakes me up.  But that's ok because i have to check the bleeding every 45 minutes to an hour anyway, so I shouldn't be sleeping in the middle of the deluge anyway.  I am hesitant to go out of the house for fear I'll flow all over.  

And the fact that people having this invasion are not spring chickens makes all this too much fun.  I'm really not at my best at 2 in the morning having to do a minor clean up in aisle 4 since I slept more than I should have (more than an hour at a time).  I kinda forget where things are and why I'm awake and who else is in the house.  I'm too old for this shit, in other words.

I could go on, but I keep promising to find something to say that makes me happy.  I really do have more on my mind than ranting at the world.  Oh wait.  What would my heroes Diana Trent and Slappy the Squirrel think of me?  

Gardens

So I've been thinking about gardening because it's spring, I'm hopeful around this time.  I look for inspiration, being sucked in by all the seed catalogs and an unwillingness to accurately match the time it takes to garden with how much time I have available.  In looking at various blogs and forum kind of gardenporn, I'm struck by a term I've run across.  Show me a real garden. Hmmm.

What is a real garden?  Well my garden is one.  It has a stick pile and compost bins and no grass in the backyard.  Would looking at this inspire someone to garden?  No.  It looks like it needs work.  It does.  It's in its post-winter mess.  No ideas could be gleaned from it right now.  It's a mess.

My house is a mess too.  I don't see decorating  sites ever wanting to show me real rooms. Would anyone know what color the walls are when stacks of books are sitting on the floor?  Can you see the countertop in the kitchen for the dirty dishes?  Would a "real room" have any kind of a life in a decorating magazine?  Well no.  The elements which make you want to beautify your life are being obscured by your life.  You have to see the elements in the room to get the idea that yellow and blue really can look less twee than you thought.

The same is true in my garden.  One year the baby's breath and the roses bloomed together.  It was a giant rose bouquet from the florist in my garden.  It was a real garden.  But it was blooming and clean and if I do say so myself, breathtaking.  I'd hoped for it.  But who knew?  And at that point, it was worth showing to anybody.  Before that it was a bunch of green.  No one could imagine what it was gonna do.  And it would have been a real oh yeah I see ya planted roses moment.  Maybe they'll bloom.  

My winter squash making its own way across the all the beds to the edge of the property was a real moment too.  It was the funniest thing I'd ever seen.  And beautiful.  But only because the garden around it was cleared enough to show the squash.  Before its travel, it was a vine in a bed.  Oh yeah ya got squash.

Most people don't wanna see the construction or the weeding or the blueprints.  Real gardens, real rooms, real food for that matter make an impact when they do what they are supposed to do.  Otherwise it's pretty much watching paint dry or watching grass grow.

grandchildren

You know before I became a grandmother, I used to see all those treacle-filled little treasures in the all the catalogs.  I'm not a very treacle person and mostly find little guardian angels to put on your rearview mirror offensive at best.  But one thing I can agree with in all this pop culture "wisdom" is "If I had known how fun granchildren were, I'd have them first."

Fun barely begins to cover it.  From the moment I held my son's baby burrito as he insisted on calling her in her swaddling, I was hooked.  She looked right up in my face as if to say "Hi, Grandma."

She finds Grandma and Grandpa infinitely entertaining.  We are just such fun people, unlike Mom and Dad with all their rules.  We have a clock that chimes and a large flower garden.  We take lots of pictures and buy lots of things.  We even let her cook.

I knew we had a pact the last time she visited.  Earlier in the day, she had done something outside the rules.  She immediately pointed out that her uncle led her into doing this and was in fact doing it too.  Later, another rule violation occurred.  This was in fact something Grandma had let her do earlier.  Did she throw Grandma under the bus with her uncle?  No siree.  She took her chastisement and moved on.

The worry and the fret of raising a child disappear with a grandchild.  I don't care when she sleeps through the night or how many times she says thank you.   I do care that she stays safe and will tell her no if she could get hurt.  Otherwise,  I'm so ok with almost everything she does And she returns this favor.  She's ok with almost everything I do.  

And all the little things she does just like her daddy.  Or just like her grandma.  Nature trumps nurture is some of the smallest nuances.  Her sleeping patterns from birth have been those of her father's as a child.  Naps are such a nuisance.  And she fights them every step of the way and makes sure they are short.  She loves outside like her grandmother and great-grandfather.  She really hates being cooped up in a house.  She begs to be let outside.  

She is a most endearing little bundle.  Even when I see echoes of family members, she remains her own little person with her own opinions.  She loves turtles and frogs.   She loves the color purple, despite our attempts to dress her in pink, Grandma's favorite color.  She thinks her 3 uncles are the funniest people put on this earth.  She only poses nicely for Grandpa when he is taking pictures.  She loves games that Daddy invents, like throwing the stuffed animals.   And only Mommy knows how to read a book.  

In other words she is perfect.

It's San Francisco!

Where to begin where to begin.  Probably the food.  So many things, so little time

The first night we ate at Koi Palace in the Serramonte Plaza in Daly City.  Very authentic Asian food.  It was very good.  I was a little off my feed because of the traveling, but the food was great.  The meal began with peanuts and pickles.  The peanuts were ok, but the pickle was to die for.  I could never decide if it was regular cucumber pickle or daikon.  It seemed too crisp for cucumber, but it was fabulous.  We sat by the koi pond and watched them swim around and around.  Very nice.  David had oysters with bok choi and I had Mongolian beef.  I was trying to be conservative, but I really like the bok choi best.  It was cooked perfectly.  I've never been able to achieve what they did with bok choi.  It was done, but the leaves weren't mush.  The bottom stem wasn't hard as a rock.  It was heaven.  I ate it out of our hotel fridge all week cold.  Did I mention the helpings were huge?  I highly recommend the place and recommend being brave in your choices.

Second day, breakfast at Joe's by the bay.  This small caf was next to Repo Depo, so not a show place.  But yum.  I ordered a bagel.  It was cut, grilled, and cream cheesed before it was served at the table.  And it was 1.95.   Good coffee, good prices.  Anything you might want.

We ate Cow Palace show food following that.  It was Sysco, so what can I say?

Our evening meal was a catered pasta bar with some very yummy tortellini in a cheesy white sauce.  And tons of other stuff.  Dessert tray had some very nice profiteroles which were not gooey with condensation for which I was thankful.  It was very nice and served on the floor with the exhibition gardens.  Flowers with dinner is a good thing.

Next day north to Mill Valley.  We ate breakfast at the Depot where they featured organic scrambled eggs.  They were the best eggs I'd ever had. They tasted like eggs.  It was amazing.   I was done with mine almost before David got started.  Lunch was carry out salads/sandwiches from the little corner store.  Good, but nothing to write home about.  The eggs, however, wow.

Dinner was Alanna's Cafe in downtown Burlingame.  If I lived near here I'd eat there once a week.  Comfort food is how it's advertised.  You need a comfortable belt after diving in here.  We had some wonderful salads--mine was greens with warmed pear and blue cheese.  Oh I could have eaten that alone for dinner.  David had turkey meatloaf; I had the sausage platter.  The entire meal was perfect.  We were stuffed to the gills, so no dessert.  I couldn't leave the side vegetables alone, even after I was full enough.  They were crisp, but not uncooked and not cold.  I could have eaten there every day.

Next lunch was In 'n' out Burger.  finally.  I had to see what Julia Child meant about that being the only fast food place she'd go.  I was shocked by the concise menu.  It's burgers.  No fish.  No chicken.  No chili, salads, or trinkets.  Burgers.  And fries.  It was good.  I confess I like Culver's better.  No accounting for taste.  But that is not to say that In'n'out isn't head and shoulders above most other burger doodles.

I forgot lunch when we got there.  We stayed at the Airport Hyatt and ate at the Knuckles Sports Bar when we arrived at 2:45 (4:45 tummy time).  I had fish tacos with all the trimmings; David had a large burger.  Both were good and refreshing after basically nothing all day.  Oh wait I had a banana before we left Des Moines.  Even after the fast, neither of us could finish.

Ok, back to Friday.  We ate with my aunt, uncle, and cousin at Foreign Cinema in the Mission District of San Francisco.  A very cool concept.  There is a heated patio with movies projected on the wall while you eat.  I hasten to add we were in the adjoining dining room which does not really afford a view of the movie.  We had 3 different starters--carpaccio, a galette (actually a piece of galette), and melted soft cheese with fruit and veg.  All fine.  The galette was underwhelming--no real hit of flavor.  Very like a luncheon quiche almost anywhere.  I had a nice risotto which was very creamy and nice, but no surprise.  Others had fish (2 sorts), pork chop, and an East Indian inspired chicken which turned out to be very good.  Desserts were ordered.  I had creme brulee which had a hit of rose water.  Very subtle, but very nice.  The accompanying lavender cookie was ok.  But it was fun in a bustling city restaurant.  My aunt felt we were rushed.  Maybe.

Saturday, we headed for Palo Alto.  Did sightseeing.  Ate at Madison and Fifth.  Ok this was cool.  We ordered salads instead of appetizers.  The other diner's salads arrived.  Mine did not. The waiter rushed back and they made it up before the others had eaten much at all.  My hat is off for how quickly they fixed the error.  I had an asparagus chop salad.  Everyone enjoyed their choices.  We were starting to comment on the presentation.  Both of the other salads were composed and beautiful.  Mine was vertical and inviting.  Next came the main event.  Three of us had pasta--black, green, white represented by the three of us.  My partners in pasta had seafood types--clam and a mixture.  Plentiful, beautiful, fabulously cooked.  I had veal meatballs and parpadelle with mushrooms.  Very good.  The piece de resistance was ordered by my uncle. It was seafood risotto.  It was served in a hollowed out grapefruit with the seafood spilling out the top.  It was so gorgeous and gooey with cheese.  But we weren't prepared for the gorgeous dessert presentations.  My aunt and Uncle shared a profiterole with chocolate sauce, and I had panna cotta with caramel.  What gorgeous plates!  Vibrant green and yellow sauces surrounded the plate, encircling the caramel.  The panna cotta had lovely flecks of vanilla bean.  Fabulous.

Ok that was just the food.  I'm so hungry now. Next installment will be sightseeing and such in the city by the bay.

Liquidity

So the economy keeps going in the toilet.  I've not gotten a straight answer from any show I've seen about why assets keep being devalued while prices of goods keep going up.  It is a mystery.

However, I've gotten the feeling lately that it's related to 20somethings in a room playing a video game.  I believe moving stocks from one portfolio to another is just another form of Tetris to these kids.  Really.  It's easy to do with the click of a mouse, and often you can win the game by increasing your score.  Sometimes of course you lose.  Oh well, you can start over the next day.

And of course you can.  And if no one really needs the monopoly money you are playing with, that's fine.  Because in the game and on the screen and even on your statement, it's not real money.  It's a representation of money.  It's a Platonic ideal of money.  Until the owner wants to take it out of the game.

This is called liquidity.  People need the money to be money.  Not an ideal of money, but the real thing.  None of the entities who have these Tetris games have all the money to cover the ideal money.  And, as in Monopoly, if all the money is removed from the game, the game is over.  This is called a run on the bank.  It's when everyone cashes in, makes liquid, at once.  And it is likely to happen when assets become devalued.  Other sources of money are needed if the price of the house won't cover a loss.  Non-liquid assets must become liquid.

And ultimately, the need for liquidity is caused by someone else's greed.  Oil profits jump out of sight.  People need to cover the unexpected outlay.  More money goes out of the game.  Eventually assets are devalued.  Even the assets of the people who started it.  So it bites everybody in the butt eventually.

At least this seems to be the answer.  I'm a little scared by the powerlessness of "the experts" and people in control of the game.  They don't seem to know how to stop it. Or don't want to.  I don't know.  It is a mystery.  But it ought to be a crime for it to hurt all the people who aren't even in the game.  I'm fine with someone's 5 million dollar house falling to 4.75, but I'm not ok with someone's 60,000 dollar house falling to 40,000 when they are carrying a 45,000 dollar mortgage.

Maybe solving the mystery might be in order here.  Ya think?

Drum Corps

In addition to my other failings as a human being, I'm a drum corps geek.  First let me try to explain drum corps.  The appreciation will follow suit.

Properly called Drum and Bugle corps, drum corps is an uber marching band.  As the name would indicate, it began with drums and bugles and usually an honor guard to display the colors.  I mean bugles here.  The no-valve kind.  And these corps were usually started by or associated with a VFW club.

It is now a youth organization with scads of kids 15-22 involved.  At 21 or 22, depending on how your birthday falls, you "age out."  You are no longer eligible to march.  It is against the rules to march someone over 22.  

The organization that checks these things is called DCI (Drums Corps International) and is headquartered in Indianapolis.  DCI oversees 2 divisions of corps--world class and open class. World class means the corps has no more than 150 members and travels all summer--Memorial Day to mid-August, meeting other corps for competitions all over the United States. Drum Corps does thrive in other countries, but all of the 24 world class corps are American.

The evolution of the sport has been incredible.  I have gone to shows for about 40 years, and my how it has changed.  When I first became aware of the activity, the performances were still very military and the instruments very limited.  The color guard had increased from the original honor guard, but they carried flags and marched like the other performers.

Now the color guard dances and changes outfits and generally adds color and movement to the show.  A front ensemble has been added with any number of percussion instruments.  The brass players perform on trumpets, mellophones, baritones, and tubas.  And the effect is amazing.  The sound, the color, and the movement keep the audience enchanted for 11 minutes.

Being a geek does mean talking to other geeks about performances from the past.  Some corps are no longer in existence, but were part of making drum corps what it is today.  27th Lancers and the Bridgemen each leap to mind.  The Lancers really pushed the envelope of guard work and uniforms and generally creating entertaining and melodic shows away from classics or military music.  The Bridgemen added humor.  Lots of it.  Putting a pin in the pomposity of music and competition was their specialty.  I really miss them.

Drum Corps has now become a Broadway show on a football field.  And the most amazing thing from the stands is remembering that the oldest kid on the field is 22 and performing in this astonishing and complex way.  The kids all memorize drill--their positions on the field.  Of course a marching band means that in 11 minutes, any given kid is all over the field.  How they do it I will never know.  And the drill can change as improvements are made over the course of the season.  So yesterday you ended halfway through on the 35 yard line and today you end of the 40.   The fact that so few collisions happen shows the kids' dedication.

All over America, come summer, these kids are on the road in your neck of the woods.  They will probably perform at a football field near you.  Give 'em a look.  You can be a geek, too.

First March Post

In like a lamb or a lion?  Considering the snow (again) and the mess that was yesterday, I'd predict some very lion like utterings.  

Self-promotion is the topic today.  Two august organizations got took recently--a publishing company and Food Network.  I say good enough for 'em and I'll tell you why.

In the first instance, a book was published as a "memoir."  First of all, with all the hoopla around Running with Scissors and other "memoirs" by nobodies, don't publishing companies have a clue?People lie when they relate stories about themselves.  They aggrandize themselves.  They make other people in their lives look at fault.  That used to be why memoirs were written by people whose lives you were slightly familiar with.  If Helen Hays publishes a memoir that claims that she was once president, we know that's not true.  But if she says she hated a co-star that she seemed cordial with, it adds to our understanding of acting.  That means she was an even better actress than we thought.

"Memoirs" about people we don't know are novels.  We don't read this to get the inside scoop about a movie we liked or another book we read.  We read it to be a voyeur.  And we either identify with the main character or feel superior to them, just like a novel.  So on the face they are fiction for us.  And bring out mostly the least desirable aspects of our characters.  They encourage us to press our noses to the neighbor's window.  We are not educated or uplifted by the "lessons" of these books.  We've sated our voyeurism.

And if publishers get raked over the coals for providing a "reality book" that turns out to be neither true nor a book, they ought to be.  Publish the damn things as fiction.  Or don't publish them at all.  Maybe publishing well-written and well-plotted books might be a plan.  Just sayin'.

Heard of P. T. Barnum?  "There's a sucker born every minute."  Just as the publishers swallow these self-serving "memoirs" as true,  Food Network apparently hires chefs without a scrap of evidence that what they list on their resumes is true.  How can it be harder to get a job at McDonald's than it is to talk your way into a tv show?  Because these people or their publicists do a good pitch.  They do a good interview.

Apparently, hiring decisions are now based on the applicant's verbal accounting of himself.  Hello, people lie.  Some people lie about everything.  Some people lie only occasionally.  But they all lie.  Isn't this why spouses can't testify in court?  They are thought to have a vested interest.  Gee, and ya think a job applicant doesn't?  All HR departments ought to own a dog as the final decision maker.  Dogs are a better judge of character.  It beats this system of believing every person's self=promotion.

By the way, have I mentioned that I joined a gang after being thrown out of the castle by my father,  the Duke of Kent?

Nascar

Here's a platitude to begin today's ramblings--you can't judge a book by its cover.  Marketing students will tell you this is false because that is what sells a book in marketingland (as opposed to the reality the rest of us occupy).  That is not true about books, soap, shoes, jewelry, or people. You indeed do not know anything by the cover.

I am a 54 year old white woman with a Master's degree in English.  I have all the classroom hours toward a Ph.D. in 19th Century English literature.  My politics are liberal.  I like gardening and organic food.  I make my own granola, for heaven's sake.  And I'm a huge Nascar fan.  Put that in your demographics.

I've known about Nascar from birth.  My father's favorite story from being stationed in Atlanta, GA was that he got see Fireball Roberts race at Atlanta Motor Speedway in 1952.  So any three minutes of racing ABC's Wide World of Sports was willing to throw our way--we watched.  We listened to the Indianapolis 500 on the radio.  In fact, Memorial Day weekend was the weekend for taking down the storm windows.  My dad and I set up a radio on the patio and washed windows and listened to the race.  We were race fans.

My first child was born the year CBS finally aired the Daytona 5oo live.  Wow.  I'd married a race fan (you don't marry outside your own kind), so we watched the race.  Fisticuffs broke out in the infield.  Omigod, it's not the fans--it's the drivers.  America started liking this edgy stuff.

I was so happy when the rest of the world caught up to my predilection for auto racing.  Pretty soon Speed started running Formula One races live, and I could see open wheel racing.  ESPN was running NHRA (drag racing).  It's heaven for a race fan now.  A race track even opened close enough to me for me to have season tickets.  This is even more fun than watching it on tv and loads more fun than the radio.  Real cars going around right in front of me!   Wow

So as you are marketing this sport to men who drink crappy beer (my son falls into this category, not much of a race fan), ask yourself if you might be missing someone in this overall demographic.  Someone with disposable income and a granddaughter to convert.  Hmmm.

Go Kevin Harvick.  Let's get 'em at Vegas.

Missing people

Isn't it funny how people who are so important for a time in your life just fall away from you?  Today I'm missing all those people who I was close to because of an interest our children shared.  You know the ones.  The ones you have lunch with because of the PTA.  The ones who find out about the latest trauma in your life because you spend so much time with them.  Then nothing.

What I wonder is if you can hang on to everyone.  Does the entire world have this falling away problem or is it me?  Could I be more forceful about hanging on?  And really should I be?

This inevitably for me leads to Christmas cards.  What you didn't make that jump?  I always think I should expand my Christmas card list to include all these people I never see anymore. But I'm not convinced that I get the same feeling from sending or reading cards.  I'm not sure I'm really still in touch with these people.

Maybe these people really only serve a purpose in your life for short periods of time.  And I don't mean that in any karma or fate way.  I mean that when you no longer share the thing that brought you together in the first place, maybe you don't have anything much else in common.  There must be room in our lives for short term relationships that are fulfilling, but not meant for the long haul.

I think that idea is counter to what most people believe.  I think we need to hang on to people and things in a desperate attempt to make change disappear from our lives.  If all the people around me and the things around me never change, I never change and therefore have a say in my life.  It's the illusion of control.  And it is an illusion.  You are not in control.

But it's still bittersweet for me to think about some of the really neat people I've encountered over the years.  It's good to know in the midst of winter that those people are out there, being as supportive and warm as I remember them.  I know they are enriching someone else's life just as they did mine.

Yippy skippy--it's snowing again.

seattle: the review

So I'd never been to Seattle before last week.  It makes me proud to keep adding states to my resume.  I'm getting to the point that I don't need to count ones I've only flown over.  I added Texas a couple of years ago.

First ya gotta like a city that keeps its snow tied up in one place so that the residents may visit it whenever they feel the need.  Snow-covered mountains surround the place, and a visitor may go see them at will.  But snow is not forced on anyone.  Right now, that counts for a lot.

Restaurants cover the place.  Most are exceptional.  For a foodie, it's a great place to visit.  More on the restaurants later.

I was quite surprised by the hills.  I believe Seattle is the origin of the joke about a parent telling his child how difficult it was in his day when students walked uphill to school both ways.  I guess if I'd thought about the proximity of the mountains, having lived in foothills myself, I'd have figured it out.  It just didn't occur to me.  That was killer.  I didn't really need to discover how out of shape I am while visiting a new city.

The restaurants we chose were mostly fabulous.  Our first dinner was at Tulio.  I had heard of it, but didn't realize it was on the same block as our hotel.  It was fabulous.  I had the best duck I have ever put in my mouth.  The duck was served with kumquat, obviously a take off of orange, but the kumquat had a more robust, less sweet hit than orange usually does.  YUM.  We had homemade sausage for appetizers.  They were also wonderful.  We were both tired, so we passed on dessert.

We next ate at Etta's Seafood.  The appetizers were sort of uneventful, but my salad was a work of art.  It was a huge plate of frisee and baby greens with apple, bacon, goat cheese,etc.  It was so good.  I could have eaten a ton of it.  My dinner was the special which was black cod and mussels.  The mussels were like candy.  Very Yummy.  My eating companion stuck with Tom Douglas's crab cakes which lived up to the hype.  I had a tart for dessert.  The rest of the meal overshadowed dessert.  I liked it, but I really don't remember much about it.

The surprise find was Palomino.  We saw it on the sign for City Centre as we walked back and forth to the convention center.  It seemed intriguing.  We looked up info on it and decided to give it a shot.  It's a very bustling city kind of restaurant.  It occupies the third floor of City Centre and looks out over the atrium.  We had lovely salads.  I had salmon, and my companion had scallops.  Both were fabulous.  My salmon actually tasted like salmon.  The scallops, which seemed like they might be overwhelmed by the sauce and side, held their own quite well thank you.  Very good food, very good waiter.

We had two sorta disappointing meals.  I'm not sure I'd say they were bad, but they certainly didn't live up to their advance hype or to the other restaurants we ate at.  The first was Wild Ginger.  We went with a large group (6), so we tasted a lot of dishes there.  We ordered spring rolls and pot stickers as appetizers.  Very pedestrian.  All the main dishes were all right.  But nothing stood out or had a memorable taste.  We had duck, lamb, chicken, shrimp, scallops, and beef.  I wouldn't send anything back, but I wasn't in love with any of the dishes.  I had a serviceable panna cotta for dessert, again not awful, but not memorable.

The other disappointment was Matt's at the Market.  This was lunch and so we went for soup and sandwiches.  Again, not horrible, but very what you would expect soup and sandwiches to be.  And since we didn't get a table by the window to look out over the market, it was a wasted trip as far as I was concerned.  I had oyster sandwich, which was fresh and nice, but in Seattle that is kind of the given.  The soup was butternut squash and pear and a little too sweet.  Again, not horrible, but not to die for either.  And not worth the premium prices you pay here.

Our quest for coffee and breakfast led us first to the original Starbucks to at least check out the original logo.  There are no seats or bathrooms there, so we moved on.  Down the street we found Local Color, an art gallery/coffee shop.  I had a croissant and the prettiest cup of coffee I'd ever seen.  I hated to mess it up.  But I perservered.  It was very well done.

We toured the market and rode the monorail.  That trip is fun and worth the 4 bucks it costs you.  Experience Music is not.  15 dollars for one to see old concert tape and Jimi Hendrix's guitar is way over the top.  It is nice to go out to the Space Needle since you can see it from everywhere. We did not spend another 30 dollars for 2 to ride the elevator to the top.

We visited the Mystery Bookstore while we were there.  Very large selection in a small space.  Lots and lots of autographed books.  The clerks are fabulous, and we enjoyed this place a lot.  If you read mystery books, check this place out.

One thing I consistently disliked about Seattle was its overly aggressive panhandlers.  I was sick of them after our walks around, but I was particularly annoyed by one who cursed us for not giving him a quarter.  I'm not used to being assaulted for money, and we call that extortion in some places.  I'm not under an obligation to give you money because you ask for it.  New York leaps to mind as a place where I didn't feel nearly as put upon as Seattle.  And I'm more likely to respond positively to less aggressive and abusive treatment.

Our actual reason for being in Seattle was the Northwest Flower and Garden Show.  It was such a beautiful display.  The gardens were inventive and gorgeous.  I loved the container gardens which lined the connecting spaces.  Food and places to sit were abundant.  It was easy to come and go with a hand stamp.  Very nicely done.

Overall, a nice city.  Very pedestrian friendly because crosswalks are respected by the drivers here (a nice change from anywhere else I can think of).  I'd go there again.

and now another rant

I'm sure when the snow melts, I'll be writing about the beauty of nature and the wonderful ways flowers bloom in the garden.  And puppies.  And kittens.  Right now I'm snowed in and cranky.  So a rant it is.

Stop trying to sell me stuff.  You're annoying me.  I have two separate but related trains of thought here.  Both relate to crass commercialism.

Suddenly, I'm closed out of a forum where I used to lurk.  Why?  Because I have to register to be able to view the forum.  After several years of viewing without registering, I'm taken aback.  What has my lurking done to offend anyone?  I sometimes don't really have anything to add.  I'm not someone who has to restate another' s point or lol at what has been said.  But I usually enjoy the advice and nuggets of faux info one can glean.

But I digress.  The reason I must now register is that this forum is owned corporately, and the corporation wants email addresses to add to its (note correct usage) database.  I'm supposed to willingly submit to corporate spam.  Knowingly.  Now the ads I must navigate around are not enough to feed the corporate beast.  It must target my mailbox.

I can tell you my reaction.  I don't go there anymore.  Now the ads on the page are not being seen by me because I came for the forum.  And I'm locked out.  I have no reason to try to navigate the page.  You no longer offer anything I want.  Shoot yourself in the foot why don't you?

The related rant has to do with those people who already have my email address.  No not my friends--I quite enjoy all the forwarded nonsense I receive.  No all the businesses who have my address because I buy things from them.  They send me ads nearly every day.  Now I'm an avid consumer and shopper, but they can't truly believe I'll buy something every day.  So they have made themselves pests as far as I am concerned.  It makes me not want to buy things from them anymore.   And I always uncheck boxes about receiving updates.  This is blatant.  One outfitter from Maine calls this a newletter.  What a unique definition.

I do tolerate an occasional ad.  It's kinda like they're checking to see if I'm still ok.  But this every single day thing has to stop.  And by the way, marketing mavens, my email program consistently puts this in junk, so I don't see it anyway.  If the program is smart enough to know when enough is enough, you should too.

And, my final word hoping for positive thoughts--ENOUGH WITH THE SNOWING ALREADY.

The its conundrum

Here it is--my pet peeve.  Native speakers of English apparently have no idea what the word "it's" is used for.  It is NOT possessive.  Let me say that again.  NOT POSSESSIVE.  The word means it is and very occasionally it has.  It NEVER is used as an adjective.  

So using it's in a sentence is VERY VERY simple.  The dog lost its way.  Why no apostrophe? Because it is makes no sense here--the dog lost it is way.  The simplest test in the world. Substitute "it is" for "it's" anytime you think that might be what you mean.  It's simple.  See the test works--it is simple.

And why should you care?  I "knew" what you meant.  Let's suppose I didn't.  Let's suppose it means that I don't do business with you or it costs you money because your sentences are unclear.  Let's suppose your boss knows the difference and cares about it.  Let's suppose it makes you look ignorant when you use it incorrectly on your resume.

Most of all, let's assume in a world like ours that communication matters.  Maybe we ought to be precise enough to mean what we say.  It just might be the difference between being understood or being misunderstood.  And if I communicate clearly about what I want or expect, maybe I have a greater chance of getting what I want.  Maybe.

Ok. Class dismissed.  There may be a quiz later.