Never Forget

I am late doing this...but let us not forget those who gave their lives...or part of their lives to keep us free. Be it whichever war it was...remember, they did it so that people like you and me can breathe the air we breathe and live the life we lead. Let us honour them (and ourselves and our family and our family's family) by living good, honourable lives...worthy of their sacrifice.

Photos I took in Washingon, DC - 2009.

From top to bottom the photos are as follows:Washington Monument
Marine Corps War Memorial aka the Iwo Jima Memorial
Korean War Veterans Memorial
Changing of the Guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier at Arlington National Cemetery
Arlington National Cemetery
Korean War Veterans Memorial

I've Got Mono

Here's a proposed Craig Ferguson (host of CBS's "Late Late Show") monologue I came up with long ago. Keep in mind this was written the first year he started hosting - so his "voice" has changed some...i.e., he doesn't say the same things like he used to. This was purely for my entertainment...it's not like Craig asked me to write his monologues or anything...it was just for fun. It also helps if you have seen Craig and know his mannerisms and vocal intonations...if not, you can always call me up and I'll read it to you in my best "Craig voice". :)

Please be aware I'm posting these blogs how I originially wrote them years ago. Consequently they aren't going to be timely and they aren't going to be like my regular blogs -- mainly a lot of these are just "comedy snippets" of sorts.

Jane Birkin and the Hermès bag named after her.

I was walking around the "ritzy shopping district" the other day, and I can't believe what these stores in Hollywood sell for kids.

"Oh yes, why my daughter just HAS to have a pair of $5000 Hermès earmuffs...ALL the kids in her class do"...like whatever happened to getting your kid a Barbie!?

When I was a wee lad growing up in Scotland...I got to name a sheep - and it wasn't even MY sheep - it was Mr. Flannagan's across town. THAT was MY lousy Christmas present - not some poofy $5000 earmuffs and a Birkin bag. What the hell's a Birkin bag, anyway - and why does it cost $30,000??!

What's even worse, is that you have to wait TWO years if you want to get one...unless you go to eBay and then it's anyone's guess. Would YOU know a fake Birkin bag if you bought one? I certainly wouldn't. "You know, Marge...your tag looks sooooo three-thousand dollar-ish."

I know what you're saying...here's another late nite talk show host talking about expensive 'to die for' purses. But this is true!

These Birkin bags were named after Jane Birkin...who was an English actress who did a lot of French films in the 60s. I Googled her, I did...and she was NAKED in EVERY SINGLE photo......with Brigitte Bardot, even!

Hey, when you have Brigitte Bardot telling you to "put some clothes on, girlfriend"...you know you have something.

So, I guess the Hermes designers were sitting around one day saying, "Well we have the Kelly bag named after Grace Kelly -- and that one has style, can we maybe...oh, I don't know...make a bag with a lot more slutty appeal? How about this Birkin one? Sure! And let's say you have to wait months to get one...that way it will be like an adult 'Tickle-Me-Elmo' doll..."

...and speaking of tickling...I think THAT'S the movie where Birkin was actually wearing those muffs.

Well, the photo WAS a little fuzzy.

C'mon..it's true!

(Originally written 9 December 2005)

What CAN I do?

The following was written by me as a silly comedy snippet (you know...if I ever tried to do a stand-up comedy routine...and if Montgomery, Alabama ever had a comedy venue to try my hand at it)...apparently serving no real purpose until now (and even now I question its purpose)...

So, anybody here have trouble sleeping?

I seriously have problems sleeping...that I've had since I can remember. Tried relaxing, warm milk, cold vodka...nothing works. So I figure I'll go and read a book...you know, you read some...you get tired...you fall asleep.

So, I go on down to the library because you can pick up used books there for like a quarter...and I picked up a few, including one big-ass one by Stephen King called "Insomnia".

Well, I'm no genius, but I figure the reason these books are for sale for less than a buck is because no one wants to read them...and who the HELL's going to want to read some horror book about not sleeping when they're trying to sleep?? Just what was he thinking??

But I've got to hand it to him...he thinks of an everyday happening and then makes a scary as hell story out of it. I just figure he's sitting there at home at the typewriter...going..."Dogs...yeah...really mean dog..."Cujo". Corn...people like corn...how about "Children of the Corn"? Ooh, what else do people like to do? Drive...yeah..."Christine"...okay...talk on their cell phones. I got it: "Cell"!"

Okay, so I can't have a dog, can't bury it behind my house if it would ever die...can't eat corn or talk on my cell phone...forget about talking on it IN my car...and I'll never sleep again. What's going to be next? A horror story about a toilet?

Oh gee, thanks, Mr. King.


Originally written 28 Jan 06.

Prelude To Some Blogs

My next series of blogs (don't get bent out of shape...I am not doing another three-parter on Sea Monkeys)...will be older ones. Not that I've posted them before...but they remain old, nonetheless.

A little back-story if I may...

A while back I took to carrying around this brown, faux-leather notebook in which I would write when I had to sit waiting in doctor's offices and whatnot. I even half-convinced myself that I would look massively impressive and "writer-ish" like Johnny Depp did in "Finding Neverland". And anyone who was fortunate enough to glance in my direction would automatically think of Depp's portrayal of J.M. Barrie...and be stricken with the worst case of awe he ever experienced (good thing they were at the doctor) in his entire life. Imagine me...a budding Oscar-winning, future Pulitzer Prize-winning, AND former Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest-winning (yes, that last one already happened - go read my side-bar) writer, sitting right there next to them and they'd not even know it! Oh, they'd sense it alright as I had, clutched in my hand, a highly elaborate "look at me...I'm someone important" pen...and no one need ever know I purchased quite a few of these for next to nothing when the Office Max store up on the bypass went out of business a couple years back.

Yes...while I basked in the glow of my pseudo-self importance - in the end I probably just came off looking like an aging buffoon who hadn't yet realized you could email people instead of write them. So much for instilling people with a sense of "awe". Awesome? No. Awe-kward? Yes.

Then I misplaced this notebook for a time and only found it the other day. While it is true that common sense dictated I could just pick up another one at TJ Maxx and start anew, which I did; the new ones, equally majestic as those "on sale" pens, just didn't hold the same kind of magic to me, so I decided I'd start bringing a book along to read instead. Yes, I traded writing for reading...but the arithmetic undoubtedly came out the same: I still probably looked like just another old ailing chick sitting in a doctor's office.

As far as these blogs (or very short stories, as I like to call them) go...I was thinking about just scrapping them all, but then I figured I'd use them and let everyone know why they might seem out-of-date...as "I do believe" they have some worth.

So, there -- I've said it...and with further delay, I present to you...some old blogs.

Sea Monkeys III: The Final Seaquel

Because you are all dying (faster than my cannibalistic Sea Monkeys) to have me wrap up my final installment of my three-part foray into Sea Monkey raising...I certainly won't prolong this agony any longer than is humanly tolerable.

As you are all aware (if you had been following along with Part 1 and 2), I found a treasure trove of endless fun - and something I've always wanted: Sea Monkeys.

While Sea Monkeys might not be all they're cracked up to be...and certainly not all they are hyped up to be, they did do something in my house which rarely ever happens.

No, they didn't make the kids clean their rooms and I didn't finish that book I was writing; but there was actual family interaction involved in spurts, and these little freeze-dried "time-travellers", mutant as they may be, caused it.

Oh, I'm not reporting there were any "Gee, Wally, will ya look at that!" moments - and sadly, despite years of comic book-inspired anticipation, they have yet to live up to the mystique these ads insinuated. In other words, they haven't built any underwater castles - a fact which I am still upset over...and probably will be for life.

But, true to their word, my "family" hatched in a mere 24-hour time frame. Apparently we kept the thermostat in the house set to "optimal Sea Monkey breeding temperature". We were careful to put them on a north-facing window (as instructed) and barricaded them ingeniously against the windowsill with rocks so we didn't, one day, wake up to the sound of tacky plastic containers falling due to overzealous curious cats.

We, so far, have never had to make some split-second decision of whether one would even be capable of extruding minute aquatic squiggles out of carpet pile - or whether a good stomping up and down on the poor misfortunate mutant life form would be a far, far, better thing to do. So...no such "Tale of Two Cities" moments...yet.

The following days were "filled" with such family entertainment as feeding them, replacing Sea Monkey water, which evaporates at an astronomically slow rate, and wondering how I was going to clean their aquarium. Face it, microscopic egg sacs could easily be mistaken for dirty water. Perhaps when I "strawed" some out to toss it...I threw away 75 whole families.

Oh, I am sure there are ways to ascertain your Sea Monkeys live for ages - because they sell enough extra Sea Monkey stuff to guilt any caring person, i.e., a mother of a six-year-old, into purchasing. And if they don't live after you plunk down $3.00 for "Sea Monkey Medicine" (yes, I kid you not) and another $3.00 for a "Sea Monkeys 'Million Bubble' Air Pump", etc., etc., - well, there's always that "Amazing 2 Year Warranty!" of theirs.

And then, for people like me...who never acquired their Sea Monkeys until much, much later in life...there's the "Executive Sea Monkeys For Grown Ups" kit for a mere $12.00.

Oh, yeah...these guys "Sea" you coming...but I'm not falling for any of it...

...but I am half-tempted to send away for an official "Sea Monkey Diploma" from the prestigious "Crustacean College" certifying me as a "Sea Monkey Scientist". It's only $16.00 with shipping and handling included, and just think how THAT would look on my resume...and how all prospective employers would look at ME for including it.

Sounds to me there's literally hours of fun to be had right there!



Now for some amazing Sea Monkey photos...

Small Hatchlings:

Sea Monkeys front and center..."Primordial Pool" in the background:
Sea Monkey - Up Close:

If I Can Have Your Attention, Please...A Toast to..."Young Boozer"

Niftiest name ever for a candidate?

I'm sorry - I'd vote for this guy regardless of which office he's running for. I don't even need to hear his platform - his name is AWESOME!

At least he seems to have a sense of humour as he's poking fun of his name as well at his website.

If they would ever allow me to come up with campaign slogans...I'd enlist a few of my players on my interactive comedy website ("yes, I have one" - and "why haven't you played already?")...and, in a few years, this guy would be President!

I challenge you all to come up with actual candidates over the years...with a name better than this.

Good luck.

Coming to a Mailbox Near You: Stamp Out Pesky Raccoons this Saturday!

(I know I owe everyone Part 3 of my Sea Monkey blog...I will get to it tomorrow or the next day...but for now, I had to promote and voice my concern over this food drive.)

I must commend the United States Postal Service...in conjunction with the National Association of Letter Carriers...for their thoughtful idea to try to "curb" hunger via asking people to donate "non-perishable" food items. They are asking that items be left by your mailbox this Saturday, 8 May 10, to be picked up by your mail carrier (yes, mail WILL be late this Saturday)...to be taken to a local food bank and distributed to the needy.

The thought is very nice. I don't have any problems with this - but I have problems with this whole idea and I'm never one to mince words...I'm one to say them, or in this case, to type them out.

Number One Problem: The notification in my mailbox today. Had I not noticed I had TWO of them...I wouldn't have paid any attention to either. I saw the word "stamp" on both - and automatically shuffled them to the back of my pile of bills and "To the Manor Born" Netflix dvds I had in my hand. It was only when I saw it on the newscast tonite that I paid any attention...and then I just balked at the fact I got TWO of these. Either it's easier to put two in every other mailbox than to put one in each...or they just made about a bazillion of these things...at some astronomical cost. These things don't print themselves. Granted, they've pretty much bypassed the "buying the stamps" thing - but I bet even the Post Office has to shell out X amount for some bulk mailing fee. So, yes, I have an issue with this.

Number Two Problem: "Non-perishable food items". I looked this up...it's basically food which doesn't decay as rapidly as other food...that doesn't decay as fast as the ones which decay faster. Yeah...I know...the little postcard...oops...correction "postcards" I received today stipulate that "non-perishable" food items include canned meats and fish, canned soup, juice, pasta, vegetables, cereal and rice. The two postcards go on to say that we shouldn't give expired items or those in glass containers. I don't know about you...but I've had to toss out stuff like they're asking for because it had bugs in it, was dented, tasted nasty, etc. And I can't shake the feeling that scores of people are going to be raiding their pantries and just tossing out the things they don't like...like that bulk pack of generic Ramen noodles your kid bought when he was going off to college...but forgot to take along when he moved out, the six-pack snack-sized blueberry applesauce cups (minus the one your kid ate and hated), that questionable box of spaghetti with an undecipherable "company code" instead of an expiration date, and so forth. Hey, you won't ever eat them - but that doesn't mean someone else might, right?

Number Three Problem: Critters. Let's say I take a nice grocery bag or two full to place next to my mailbox for pick-up whenever they deliver on Saturday. I live out here in the rural-ville area...and we have possums, raccoons, rats and mice, armadillos and various other miscellaneous creatures which prowl around looking for tasty bits of pasta, chips, and plastic containers of Jell-O pudding cups...in fact they probably can smell them from two blocks away. I'm not even taking in consideration dogs and cats that might come by. And even if they don't rip them open...there's always "marking" things up...and I'm not talking about prices. They like to "claim" things as their own and there's only one way they go about this...and I'm not sure the Postal person going to know whether or not that moisture's from humidity or from the big-headed feral cat that lives on my property. To borrow and change a phrase from "Look Who's Talking"..."Could be green beans...could be urine-soaked Pringles!" Yum!

Number Four Problem: Ants. See above reason...only modify it some.

Number Five Problem: Humans. Far be it from me to insinuate there are people out there who would...a) steal bags of food people have placed outside for this cause; b) vandalize bags of food people have left out for this cause; and c) do other things I failed to think of to said bags of food.

Now I'm no rocket scientist (insert incendiary blog comment here) - but I'm thinking perhaps this could have been thought out better before they acted. I'm also not stupid...I Googled and I'm positive they collected thousands of pounds of food which helped out enormously to people who are needy. I'm not saying this is a bad cause...I'm just figuring "leaving it at your mailbox" outside...which most people are putting out the nite before...isn't the safest and most sanitary way of going about donating food. And no one associated with this cause wants to make someone sick inadvertently I am sure...but I'm sure this is going to happen if there aren't better ways to police this.

And...if you haven't heard about this worthy cause...please go here for more info: www.usps.com/stampouthunger -- but I would stick to canned foods for your piece of mind...I know I am.

Monkey Sea Monkey Two

Okay, I've kept you all on the edge of your seats for a while now. And when I say "you all" it's not like the Southern "y'all"...it's more like the collective three of you who read my blog. But...the anticipation is going to be partly over soon...and soon you will know what I mean by "part"ly over.

The last blog I left you wondering about my Sea Monkey nurturing - will they hatch? Will they grow up and build a castle? Will they cling to the edge and die...or will they just sit on the windowsill totally forgotten as easily as I tend to forget about watering plants?

Well, first...yes, they did hatch. I had a bunch of those little squirmy things the size of microscopic lice in my Sea Monkey habitat. They really paled in comparison to the huge things my backyard pool grows in the off season...and speaking of comparisons...

...let's compare what the instructions for Sea Monkeys say vs what they really mean, shall we?

Sea Monkey instructions are a wonderful study of contradictions of sorts...as they rather are written with failsafe legal loopholes built in.

Apparently the Sea Monkey folks decided long ago that there's nothing more detrimental to the Sea Monkey business boom than a class action law suit filed by disgruntled Sea Monkey owner lawyers. Yes, when you stipulate that these things have an "Amazing 2 Year Warranty"...you have to, 1) Be able to stand behind it; and 2) Be certain that the majority of Sea Monkey owners are going to lose interest in these things in a fortnight.

Now I'm not claiming to be the brightest bulb in the chandelier nor the sharpest tool in the box, but I'm certainly not one fry short of a Happy Meal, neither.

If, for some reasons my little denizens of the sea fail to hatch or I fail to feed them or my cat drinks the water out of their bowl or whilst in the throes of wild monkey sex (not to be confused with Sea Monkey sex) knock the bowl on the floor and they all die...the fine folks at the Sea Monkey headquarters will send me a water purifier packet, a packet of Sea Monkey egg pouches (valued at the astronomical sum of $6.00) absolutely FREE! They will also send me the "Official" Sea Monkey Handbook (an additional $3.00 value)...also absolutely FREE! And all this will be sent to me FREE of charge if I send them a self-addressed stamped envelope and $3.00 for handling. Heck, that's a deal - as I incur absolutely NO SHIPPING CHARGES! How great is this??

But...even while I realize by doing the above I would have already paid the shipping charges...I have to wonder...so the instructions that came with MY Sea Monkeys were the...what?? UNofficial Sea Monkey Handbook? Certainly I must have been gypped with my original purchase not to have a genuine handbook. What I have is a measly 8 1/2 by 11 inch instruction sheet. Granted, it IS printed on both sides...but the more I look at it as I type this, the more I think it's not even a full 8 1/2 by 11. Seriously...what a letdown.

This flimsy excuse for a handbook goes on to try to convince me that I am to be congratulated on "becoming the owner of the most fantastic pets to ever live and breath!" Yes..."live and breath" is what it says...as apparently I can't hold any claim that they really aren't at all in the same league as my cats...as, well...my cats "breathe". Danged loophole again.

They further tell me that I'll have more fun with them than any sea creature I've ever owned. I don't know about you - but I've owned fish. Fish are pretty boring. They might be nice to look at, but it's not like you can pluck one out of the bowl and sit with it on the sofa. At least not without it smelling after a bit.

These little flecks of sea things will also reward me "with endless hours of pleasure and enjoyment" - and unlike make-believe toys, pet Sea Monkeys are really alive and ready and eager to put on a show. And unlike the insane lady who felt compelled to feed her Tamagotchi while driving...you probably won't kill a cyclist if you're too busy sitting at home, mesmerized, watching your Sea Monkeys.

I have to give the writers of the instructions some credit as they stopped short of saying they are the "Doctor Who of the millennia" - but they might have well said it with this ludicrous statement, "Sea Monkeys are real Time-Travellers asleep in biological time capsules for their strange journey into the future!" Hmmm...perhaps they can get Tom Baker to smile his toothy grin and hold up a packet of eggs and a TARDIS-like container to put them in. Hey...anything's possible - plus he probably hasn't been doing anything lately anyway.

But, wait...I gotta ask...aren't these things just brine shrimp? Once and for all...they aren't brine shrimp! Stop already! They are a "species" of brine shrimp...but they are unique. Not only do they claim to have unlocked the secrets of their life cycles - they've also hinted at creating some mutant sea thing: A hybrid they've crossbred (not unlike England's "Royal Family") but now they will grow larger and live longer than any "natural" variety of brine shrimp. Oh, yeah, they're royal for sure. In fact they mention something about Egyptian Kings in the literature they provided. So, chances are good my Sea Monkeys are blue-bloods -- you know...if they had blood.

My amazing two year warranty eludes to the assumption that my Sea Monkeys live at least two years...but just how long DO these things live? Well, according to my UNofficial 7 3/4" x 11" paper (yes, I just measured it), due to "new computer-driven processing technologies and ultra-pure, non-toxic chemicals, twice as many Sea Monkeys instantly hatch, grow larger and live longer than ever before". Wow! That's a mouthful...and impressive. But wait...just how long DO these things live? Apparently my instructions were not only written by Sea Monkey biologists but political biologists as well!

Now I know everyone is going green...and so's my Sea Monkey water...but that's for the next blog (yes...it's going to be a three-parter, folks). Some of you out there might be wondering..."Mutant royal brine shrimp? Just because they're hybrids...doesn't make them ecologically-friendly, ya know." But, let the fine folks at the Department of Sea Monkeys in Maryland assure you these things are really safe. So safe they can make this disclaimer: "Sea Monkeys are in no way harmful to humans or the environment. If they somehow find their way into natural water ways or sewer lines, they simply will not be able to survive."

So relax, everyone...if I "somehow" FLUSH THEM DOWN THE TOILET, they won't come out as giant alligators on the other end.



(Speaking of ends...stay tuned for Part 3 of my fantastic foray into the fascinating...oh, forget it...just stick around and read my last part when I write it, later on this week.)

Monkey Sea...Monkey Due

I don't know about you, but when I was a kid I got two presents a year if I was lucky. And most times I wasn't lucky and I got one combined "Birthday and Christmas Present"...the "luck" of being born ten days before Christmas. Sure, I saw my sisters and brother get TWO presents a year, but I would just sometimes get one. Sometimes it was a really nice present...like the year I got my purple Schwinn bike with the silver glitter banana seat with the purple and silver handlebar streamers...but mostly it was crap.

And speaking of crap...there are things we (people my age) always wanted but never could afford to get.

I remember wanting a Gumby and Pokey set in the worst way. Did I get one? No. Did I get something else I seriously didn't want? Yes.

That was the way things happened in those days...we didn't have Happy Meals, Gameboys, and unlimited parental funding every...single...time we went into some store. Nowadays kids don't look forward so much to Christmas, sad to say; as Christmas pretty much happens throughout the year for most kids in some shape or form.

And when I was a little kid I remember reading comic books. They weren't MY comic books as I never had comic books...I did, however have a "French-English Dr. Seuss Dictionary" book and a Barbie wedding set that's worth nearly millions now if only I kept them IN the box and never played with them.

But, again, as usual, I'm digressing.

In the very back of most comic books you'd see these marvelous things you could order for a few bucks...and a few bucks more for shipping and handling. You remember the things...if you are as old as me..."X-ray Specs"...guaranteed to allow you the superhuman ability to see thru clothing...but, for some reason, stopped at underwear. I don't know about you, but I never wore any lead-lined undies - but as the glasses were cheap, perhaps they only allowed you one layer of fabric before their power waned a bit.

So, when I ran across something I always wanted, in, of all places, TJ Maxx...well, I just had to get it.

Then I promptly rang up my friend and proclaimed, "I got something at TJ Maxx I always wanted as a kid! Three guesses what it is!"

"Uh...a bra."

"No...I have bras. C'mon, think um...something you wanted as a kid but you never bought it...they'd have them advertised in the back of comic books."

"Um...a Weenie Whistle?"

"No...but I watched 'The Santa Clause', too. I never wanted a Weenie Whistle ever. C'mon...you always knew someone who had a friend who had them...and they said they were bogus..."

"Seahorses."

"NO! You almost got it - SEA...???..."

"I said seahorses already."

"No! Sea Monkeys!"

(My son, by the way, guessed "Weenie Whistle, too - but did manage to get it right after the 2nd clue. Naturally, I had to call him up, risking life and limb talking on my cell phone in my car, as a monumental thing like Sea Monkeys...well, can't wait until you get home.)

Yes, I, a grown woman of - um - a certain age...plunked down $8.99 plus tax to finally get my dream present.

But, remember...in the ad they had a castle and a whole family and you could watch them grow and prosper and colonize a whole microcosm...right there in your own home! (You didn't need a whole pool. Oh...go read my second-to-last blog.) This wasn't just your run of the mill brine shrimp. No sirree..these were specialized "Sea Monkey" spawn, for cripes' sake. The ads...the ads wouldn't show little faces and tails and stuff if it wasn't so. I mean, this was one of those "money back if you're not satisfied" deals that guarantees this is the real McCoy. And, honestly, how would you even mail back a bunch of living, growing sea creatures, anyway?

Aha!

See???

So...I carefully laid out my instructions and three foil packets...and removed the paper which surrounded my Sea Monkey habitat...and laid that out as well. Sure, it read like a car or stereo manual...with pictographs and hieroglyphics and arrows and such...but since I have only one shot, I want to make sure I don't do anything wrong. There is, after all, freeze-dried life at stake here.

So, there I was, with my Sea Monkey paraphernalia strewn in front of me like Indiana Jones and a temple map...my eyes darting from one instruction bit to the next...making sure I wasn't going to screw up a crucial step and somehow upset the delicate balance of Sea Monkey-ness.

Everything I did would have to be carefully planned and carried out...plus double checked and rechecked...and rechecked again before I even started. Once I got that ball in motion, as in "Indiana Jones"...there's no stopping it and no turning back.

Day 1: Pour water into Sea Monkey container...let sit for 24 hours.

Damn, damn, damn, damn.

But I've waited for 40 years...another day won't make THAT big a difference.

Sure, that's what grown-ups tell you when you get all antsy and can't wait another minute...and, true to form...I felt like I couldn't wait an entire day. A whole day was light years away...and I was that little kid on Christmas Eve again.


("Monkey Sea...Monkey Blog Two" next time.)

Of Haggis and Owl...and Other Things Foul

I've recently been called out by a fellow blogger to participate in writing a poem. For those who don't exactly keep up here (at the Montgomery Advertiser blog section), mgb12345, who is very fond of writing poems, suggested I write one. Now, truth be told...I am not at all poem-y.

And I don't really like the ones which don't rhyme.

To me, if there's no rhyme...there's no reason. A poem without rhyme seems like a very short story with random line breaks. And I seriously don't get it.

But I wrote a silly poem the other day and I wrote to mgb12345 and told her about it. She wanted me to share...and I haven't, until now.

But, first I must confess that this is not my first foray into the poem realm. Long, long time ago, one of my online friends recruited the efforts of her group of online friends to attempt to win a radio contest in Scottsdale, Arizona. The gist of this contest was this: write a "funny" poem about haggis and win. Oh, wait, there's more...this was for the Arizona Renaissance Festival and the prize would be 10 free tickets (a small fortune, let me tell you - even in those days) and the "honour" of being crowned King (or Queen) of the Festival and all sorts of miscellaneous things being bestowed upon them.

So, I...a sucker for nearly any contest and downright pathetic whenever anything remotely challenging or competitive is put into the mix...set about writing a poem. Then I sent it to my friend. She culled all the ones sent to her (yeah, try to get the money back from her now, Renaissance Faire people) and submitted the one she considered her best bet.

As luck would have it, it was mine. And as further luck would have it...we (and when I say "we" I mean "I") won. Without further ado...I present my winning poem...from about 10-15 years ago:


The Minstrel's Ode to Haggis

Now gather ye maidens for a tale from our land...
Of the Scottish fare we eat that has gotten out of hand.
It's bits of the sheep innards that no one would eat...
Then boiled it its own stomach and WE call it a "treat".

So drink up and be merry for soon we will dine...
On a boiled tummy bag...ugh wench, fast, more wine.
If you think living now seems sometimes too dismal...
Just think of the Renaissance with no Pepto-Bismol.

Even Shakespeare wrote of haggis in a play called MacBeth...
With three witches a-cooking, a fate worse than death.
Listen close, heed my words, 'tis true in Scotland we tell...
That the something "rotten in Denmark" was the haggis smell.


So, as previously stated, she won all sorts of things...one of which was a real live (er...dead) haggis which she, in undoubtedly a grog-like induced state, decided a keen idea would be to ship this thing to me in the middle of summer, in a box surrounded by dry ice.

Dry ice, it seems, isn't necessarily "dry" when the bag it is encased in ruptures. And it isn't so much "icy" then, either. So, when I got this soggy box in the blistering heat of an Alabama summer...the first thing I did was say, "Ooooh a box." The second thing I said was, "Okay, the FBI will surely be coming to my door as whatever is inside this head-sized box...smells like...a severed head."

Okay, I've never actually smelled a severed head sent UPS, but chances are it's not too far off the mark from what I received. I, being the inquisitive sort...and not knowing what was inside the box...but really, really curious at this point, opened it.

All I can say is that the smell a sealed box of rotting, spoiled, decaying haggis emits pales in comparison with an opened box of rotting, spoiled, decaying haggis. Words like "vile" and (puntastically apropos) "gut-wrenching" come to mind. Also every single mob movie I've ever seen came to mind...and the "ear scene" from David Lynch's "Blue Velvet" as well...but mainly because I had recently watched it just prior to opening the box.

Yes, smell and memory are closely related because of the brain's limbic system. "Limbic" looks and sounds remarkably similar to the word "iambic", which, ironically is poem-related. In a strange way it's all very poetic really, right?

And that brings us to present day.

The other day I stumbled somehow upon a site which makes and sells "Hello Kitty" wine.

My online friend loves all things "Hello Kitty" so I forwarded the URL on to her. After she asked me which wine I would recommend, I perused their write-ups and came across this "tasty tidbit" for their Pinot Nero: "Best served with red meat, rabbit, lamb, roast beef, 'Zampone and Cotechino', wild owl and hard cheese."

Now, I don't know about you...but it's been virtually years since I've had any "wild owl" and frankly, if I can't get my hands on some prime grade "Spotted Owl"...I'm just going to say a resounding "No" to the whole owl species.

In the wee hours of the morning (all things are much funnier in the wee hours of the morning...hence my timely posting of this blog) my friend then asked her friends (on her forum) if people routinely eat "wild owl" in Britain. I figured it was probably just a typo and they indeed meant "wild fowl"...but, you have to admit..."wild owl" just reeks of the things a parody poem is made of.

So, I made one.

For further clarification of this poem's impetus - I must relay that someone from England replied at the forum saying they knew "gypsies who would cook up roadkill hedgehogs". Again...the things "memorable" poems are made of.

Please keep in mind my poem is in many different meters (at least I'm consistent in my inconsistency)...and I vehemently try to offend everyone equally across the board. :) Also, in my dealings and dabbling into the "world of poems" I've found out that I'm apparently very fond of the word "Ode"...and have used it in the title in all those I've penned. (Yes, all two of them.)


An Ode to All Things Eaten

Wild owls and guinea fowls and hedgehogs found as roadkill

These are the things that Brits do eat...as tasty as a duckbill.

When Americans eat...we like fresh meat...

We hunt it then it's skinless.

But in the UK they're drunk all day...On cheap rosé and Guinness.

Here in the South they like their deer, turkeys and some gator...

They boil them up in a big ole pot with carrots and po-tater.

I'm from New Jersey...we don't kill there, we just go to the market...

We point at things behind the case -- then pay from out the pocket.

Now I won't grab a gun to kill some meal...or a shovel for on-road scraping...

I don't have a pig, or a chicken or a cow...and no sheep here for raping.

So while I sit down with a store-bought snack and log on my computer...

...at some given point I will be drunk...but not with a guy named "Cooter".

You all have mgb12345 to thank for this...please feel free to direct all complaints directly to her. ;)

Ah...the Sweet Smell of Spring...on Venus!

In keeping with my monthly suggestion of a Montgomery Advertiser online theme (last month was "...Nature's Little...") - I read Liberty4USA's blog and she suggested others post their Spring memories...so I decided to go for it and do a Spring blog myself.

While Liberty let slide she's a closet pyromaniac...and heaven knows I've done my fair share of "setting things on fire for the 'sake' of science"...I won't divulge what horrors befell the unlucky specimens who got the hot end of the deal. Plus...I really don't want PETA putting my childhood photo on signs with a circle and red line through it. So, I'll just confess she's not the only one who found out that you can indeed set things on fire with a magnifying glass...altho I'll admit my infatuation with it stopped LONG ago. ;)



But...back to Spring.

Spring always conjures up imagery in my head of getting a brand spanking new matching pastel outfit to wear to church on Easter Sunday. This included "the works": hat, dress, a flimsy coat, and "shiny as a just minted penny" shoes. Photos were obligatory; gloves were optional...but as I grew up in the 1960s, they were still in vogue and I had to have them. I don't remember ever wearing the outfit more than once...but it was always an event - and fond memories are made of such events.

Spring, growing up in New Jersey...was a transitional thing. My son even remarked to me the other day, upon seeing the outside temperature while in the climate controlled atmosphere of my car, that Spring lasted about one day...and what was up with it going from freezing cold to blazing hot literally overnight.

It is true...I remember in Jersey how the flowers would herald the changing seasons. First the crocus would poke its clever blooms up and out thru the snow...then the narcissus and daffodils...giving way to the luxurious scent of lilac. If you've never smelled a real live, honest-to-goodness lilac bush...you really don't know what you're missing. Forget those Glade air fresheners...even Yankee Candle can't come close. A real Yankee knows lilacs don't reek of things like patchouli and cotton...or whatever combo they use to try to recreate the "lilac" experience. Real lilac hangs on the air as delicately as those lace-like structures etched on a dragonfly's wings...and darts off in the wind as effortlessly and quickly as well. It's there for a moment...and when you think you can hone in on it...it eludes you yet again.

Grabbing handfuls of the lovely blossoms and deeply burying my nose in them...ah...the thing that Spring memories again are made of - but are probably only as sweet as the remembrances of youth. I'm sure the flowers don't emit the same odour they once had. Time has a way of altering the senses and perceptions...and turning the most lovely memories into the mundane when you stray down that road again in another time. Some things are best left to memories...so perhaps it's a good thing I've never seen a lilac bush here in Alabama...and those waxy "effigies" the companies make - well, can't hold a candle to them.

But I'm waxing nostalgic (yes, that clearly was intentional)...

Spring in Alabama - what does it mean to me now?

Mosquitoes? Yeah, okay but they seem to find me year-round...so not that "Spring-like" really. Think, think, think...what do I remember most about this place in the Spring?

I know!

Primordial soup.

We have a swimming pool...or as they call it here in the South, a "cement pond". (Oh, c'mon...that was a joke.) Each year, instead of letting it run (via the pump)...we just let nature run its course...and then just drain it in the Spring, clean out the sludge which accumulated...and fill it back up again. Voila! Yankee ingenuity at its best. (Again...I'm jesting.)

But...in between the time we stop swimming and the time we start swimming...there is this interim period...a "Spring" of sorts if you will...which happens, coincidentally, between Winter and Summer. And in that time period - all kinds of things take up residence in my pool.

There are bugs...water bugs. I don't know how they find my pool...but they do. It's not like there's a little river which leads into my pool...but the water bugs find it anyway. Then the frogs and toads come. This is about the same time that the algae decides to go into hyperdrive. It begins to look like the scum on top of a soup...the stuff that you scoop off when it's simmering. Seriously...this stuff looks like it's just about to boil. There's some anaerobic activity going on I'm certain. Then...that's when "it" happens. Out of this bubbling cold cauldron - "things" begin to grow in this massive soup mixture.

Primordial things.

Primordial things begin to grow...and grow and grow. It's like a full-scale science experiment - my own little planet of life brewing...right in my backyard. We had these one-celled creatures you could SEE with the naked eye. You aren't supposed to SEE one-celled creatures like amoebas. But these were giant amoebas! I kid you not. I had giant microbial mutant life in my pool...and I will probably have it again. The abject lack of a transitional Springtime is probably to blame...certainly not due in any part with our lackadaisical approach to proper pool maintenance.

So while SETI and NASA are out there with their mass spectrometers, telescopes and space stations...searching the far distant skies for extraterrestrial life on other planets, I have intraterrestrial life in my pool each year. Life that I let slip down some drain.

On some grand cosmic scale this is probably terribly sad or terribly ironic...which it is I'm not really sure.

But it sure wouldn't be Spring in Alabama to me...without it.

Kudzu: Nature's Little Murderer

(This blog will make a lot more sense if you read this blog of mine first: Monthly Blog Theme Proposal)

Also known as "The Vine that Ate the South"...this horrendous horrible life-sucking force of nature does not exist outside a particular area.

I was from that area.

I am originally from kudzu-free New Jersey and when we moved to Alabama twenty years ago, we came from Springfield, Virginia...a place which also doesn't have the viral vine.

On the trip down from DC, once we hit a certain zone, these strange miraculous shapes were growing up telephone poles...they looked like abstract elephants...with their long trunks dangling and swaying in the breeze. They looked...utterly awesome.

I had never seen these things and really didn't pay them any mind...and when we bought the house I live in, I didn't know what those things looked like up close. As such, I was also totally oblivious to their cannibalistic ways.

Had I known...well, I would have turned tail and ran.

You here in the South know all about kudzu...you can stand outside (if you are prone to doing that kind of thing) and watch that vine grow. And it pulls down everything in its path, chokes the ever-loving life out of every living thing it grows over; it's like a chlorophyll Superman...but has no known kryptonite. Once it takes root you can't kill it short of arming yourself with an arsenal of pesticide and a lifetime of devotion.

Word has it someone brought it over from Japan, where it is controllable, as the plant dies down in winter all the way to the root system. But here in the South...well, it's much warmer than Japan and altho it will die back...the root system is alive, taking hold and spreading like a cancerous lesion. Yes, it doesn't die all the way back - and the powers that be decided it would be great at erosion control. Not only does kudzu not control erosion, I'm sure the South is paying millions every single year unsuccessfully "eradicating" this menace from the sides of highways where it was originally planted.

Elephantine it is...and it has grown to mammoth proportions.

Unfortunately, you guessed it -- it is also in my yard and barring someone making a better mousetrap or a way to economically desalinize water -- like a cure for that cancer...nothing has really been invented to literally nip this thing in the bud.

While it has been grown to make a concoction to curtail alcoholism (it has properties which will make you extremely sick if you drink alcohol after ingesting it)...and you can use it for other things, I see no one beating down my door to pay me good money to grow it.

Consequently, I have to pay good money to try to get rid of it...and it's a bear of a problem and nothing seems to put it in permanent hibernation.

Yes, I'm afraid "Nature's Little Murderer" is here to stay in the South and everyone who has run across this killer...can't stop grizzling about it.

A Different Type of Olympics

On the way home today I jokingly said to my daughter, "Well, you and Apolo Ohno have something in common." She replied, "What?" and I said, "Well, you both really screwed up in the Olympics."

It's no secret I adore Ohno...and, altho he did touch the one guy...eh, maybe a gentle nudge...but the Canadian guy did the same and he medalled - Apolo should have as well. Or, at the very least, they both should have been disqualified.

But I digress.

Today (Saturday) my daughter also was in an Olympiad competition: the Alabama Science Olympiad. If you don't know what that is, no problem...I'll enlighten you.

Kids from various schools study their butts off to take tests and build contraptions on their "off time" and trudge on up to venues in the wee hours of the morning; this time at the University of Alabama in Tuscaloosa, and compete for gold, silver and bronze...and the added glory of having their school place 1st, 2nd or 3rd overall.

All in all, it's an epic event and any child who participates, regardless of whether they win a medal or not...should be very, very proud indeed.

Oh, did I mention that their teachers expend countless hours of their own time and so do coaches? And parents quizzing their kids and helping their kids in between homework and regular tests and quizzes? Well, that, too.

The determination and the stamina of these kids really should be applauded. I went to the sprawling campus and watched as children (mostly of the high school variety) ran clear across campus in order to make it to the next event. Cell phones were employed to shuttle alternates to buildings which housed competitions which shut their doors to competitors who showed up after the designated hour. Scurrying around to get the proper paperwork (you can't get in to participate without your form) from students who were still shut in - in a prior event...because it was running late...knowing they were, in essence, forfeiting their own chance of medalling...all in the aspiration of teamwork and the overall good of their school.

No one wants to go home empty-handed...but everyone can't win. Even with 20-plus events, and three medals each...there's many more participants than places on the podium.

And I have to think back to the "real" Olympics. There are literally dozens upon dozens...I have no clue how many...countries which participate...and most walk away...empty-handed; but that doesn't stop them. I don't think I've seen anyone from Syria ever win anything (not saying they haven't)...or Vietnam...or Portugal. The top medal count always seems to have USA and Russia in it...but then again, they send like 200 athletes each - poor little Trinidad & Tobago probably have three.

Just like at the competition today...some schools had dozens and some had a couple...but that didn't deter their spirit. The cheers were just as loud...the glory just as great...and the defeat just as heart-breaking - and the perseverance just as prevalent.

And, no, in case you were wondering...my daughter didn't medal in her two events (she has, in the past, walked away with at least one in all the previous years she'd competed) - but I'm just as proud of her.

Sure, I would have been beaming from ear-to-ear had she whooped Montgomery's LAMP School Team 1 and Team 2 (geez...those kids were awesome...seriously awesome) - but, you know what...she shone, in my eyes, just as bright as any gold medal would have.

All the students did.

Apolo's got nothing on these kids. Ohno...yep...I said it. ;)

The Beauty of the Olympics

Okay, is it just me - or are a lot of these women in the Winter Olympics this year just drop dead gorgeous?

I've watched Olympics for years, and sure, there was the occasional pretty woman...like ice skating's Katarina Witt from Germany...but this year...wow!

USA's skiier, Lindsey Vonn, is just stunning:

Torah Bright looks more like Elle MacPherson's younger sister than an Australian snowboarder:



And Pre-Raphaelite beauty, Lindsey Jacobellis, also a snowboarder (from the USA)...is downright captivating:

I tell you, these women are SO hot...I don't know how the snow doesn't melt beneath their feet.

I'll be on the lookout for more "ice princesses" in the days and events to come. It's just too bad there's no real eye candy for the girls -- except for Apolo Ohno (who is still darned cute as a button) and Russian silver medalist ice skater, Evgeni Plushenko. Yeah...I've always been partial to Russian gymnasts and skaters in the Olympics...I don't know what that is about...but oooh - they could melt my little cold heart any day. ;)

All I'm saying is - if there isn't already a 2010 "Winter Olympics Women's Calendar"...there sure should have been. And, if I were a guy...I'd be buying me a snowboard right about now.

Olympic Musings III...aka "The Winter Games"

I am not sure how many people have been keeping up with my blogs...but for the sake of those who haven't -- I love the Olympics.

I always have and I probably always will.

I've been watching these things as far back as I can remember clearly - and that would be the 1968 Olympics (yes, I know I am old). And, as the games are on right now, I'm watching them as I write.

But there's a few things I have to mention regarding them before I go insane:

It's pronounced Biathlon...it's THREE syllables - not FOUR. See? http://www.merriam-webster.com/cgi-bin/audio.pl?biathl02=biathlon There's no second "a" in it to make it Biathalon...even though, I must say, it sounds better that way. But, if you MUST say it, oh, like in a newscast...um Montgomery newscasters...please, for the love of all things sacred AND the English language...at least go look it up first.

And while I pick on Montgomery (as I've heard them say it wrong each time) they're not the only guilty ones, as some commentators AT the Olympics have been saying it wrong as well. But then again, they've hired people like Pat O'Brien, who, even if you don't count his smarmy sex-scandal fiasco, was about as annoying as they come. Sometimes I wonder if the average IQ of their commentators is a 5.8...you know, if you throw out the low score (typically anyone talking during the ice dancing competition) and throw out the high score (Bob Costas).

In fact, if it wasn't for Bob Costas single-handedly saving the show with his immeasurable talent and genial appeal alone, we'd be left to such riveting commentary as:

"Ooooh, that's gonna hurt them." Said anytime anyone falls in any sport. Really? So, "screwing up" isn't yet an Olympic sport??

"You really don't want to do that in an Olympic competition." As if, sub-par performances are totally acceptable during the nationals...or the world championships.

And my personal favourite...

"Well, Jim, he really wants to win it this time." As opposed to NOT wanting to win all the other times he's competed. Ugh.

And, seriously, how much money does Morgan Freeman need? And is Visa really the only card accepted at any Olympic game? So, there are actually Lithuanian and Slovenian Visa cards? I always wondered about this.

Oh, I'll wonder about that later and Google it. But for now I must get back to watching the games and the athletes...which, by the way, is only a two-syllable word. ;)

Planning Your Super Bowl Party

I am a sucker for cookbooks.

I must have...oh a couple hundred; I've never counted them, but I know it has to be over 100...or close to it. I get the majority of them dirt cheap at TJ Maxx, the library here in town, or the Thrift Shop on base. I'd never pay regular price for them - these things are always outrageously priced, and to be honest with you, I use Epicurious.com for 98% of my recipes. I just must be hungry when I buy them I guess.

Take for instance my newest one: "Seriously Simple Holidays". It's a handful of recipes I'd probably never make - I don't have access to a bevy of duck legs and the odds of me getting 8-10 pounds of standing rib roast at like $8-10 a pound...is pretty nil. Plus it's just me and my two kids (if you don't count all the cats).

But, nonetheless I bought it - one recipe must have looked tasty and it was less than $4.00 and it had all these lovely photos, and did I mention I usually am hungry when I go into TJ Maxx?

Now, I've never hosted a Thanksgiving dinner - no one ever comes here and I have no friends within the driving vicinity and, even if I did, they probably have their own family. Anyway, this holiday feast preparation which they suggested seemed a bit excessive if you ask me...and I was likening it to hosting a Super Bowl party (which I've never done either). But my little gears started turning and I thought some side-by-side (or underneath-by-underneath as it were) comparisons might be fun. This is modified and condensed...as they have two pages devoted to proper hunting/gathering etiquette. And, just so there won't be any confusion, all comments in parenthesis for their "Thanksgiving" prep are mine, not theirs:

Thanksgiving: According to this book you should start preparing one MONTH prior - making pate, pie and turkey stock and then popping them all in the freezer.

Super Bowl: One month prior - still paying out bets you lost as your team didn't make it.

Thanksgiving: Two weeks before you should start planning your menu.

Super Bowl: Two weeks before you should start cleaning your house (you should; but you won't).

Thanksgiving: One week before - order turkey, plan your table settings and decorations, make grocery list, and shop for "essential holiday equipment" (whatever that means - I'm figuring a new turkey baster as you threw away the last one as there's no possible way to clean the bulb doohickey that you suck the raw turkey juices up with when you baste.)

Super Bowl: One week before - buy lots of chips and salsa. Last year there wasn't any on the shelf when you waited until the nite before.

Thanksgiving: The Saturday before - make caramel sauce for pie, choose dishes, glassware, tablecloths...blah blah Martha Stewartish crapola. Sharpen carving knife. (Seriously - it says that...heaven forbid you have to do that in front of your guests...big...BIG faux pas.)

Super Bowl: The Saturday before - You are too late to buy anything from Walmart. They already sold out seven days before to the people who knew better from last year. But for the purposes of this blog - we are going to assume the "Saturday before" really means whatever Thursday subtracted from Saturday is.

Thanksgiving: Monday - Complete shopping lists. (Apparently you need to pen in "cranberry sauce" because you forgot to add it to your list you made a few days earlier. Even if you don't like cranberry sauce...add it to your list. It's mandatory. Don't worry - you have a few days left to actually type up or hand-calligraphy your list. Perhaps you need to buy a new calligraphy set? Stupid you...it was right there NEXT to the turkey basters at Williams-Sonoma.) Begin shopping for produce, organize refrigerator - cleaning out to make extra room for turkey. Defrost turkey stock.

Super Bowl: Thursday before - buy more chips and salsa as you ate it all last nite. Eat everything in fridge to make room for beer.

Thanksgiving: Tuesday - Reheat stock, make gravy, cranberry relish (told you that you needed to add it to your list) and put it in glass jars (why? No clue - just do it - the book says so), chop all your vegetables and put them in zip-lock bags (this sentence brought to you by whoever makes zip-lock bags), clean and chop parsley (again - more kickbacks from the zip-lock people) then zip-lock it away. Remove chicken liver pate from freezer and transfer to fridge (you will later feed to cats as no one eats that pompous crap plus it already LOOKS like Fancy Feast cat food).

Super Bowl: Friday - buy lots of beer now that you have all that room in the fridge. Beer tip: Buy Budweiser, Miller Lite and Michelob...no one's going to drink those fancy beers with rabid dogs or old guys on the label (at least not in a room full of other guys)...plus they are expensive. Put stack of coasters on the table to appease your wife.

Thanksgiving Eve: Pick up turkey and then do dumb things like buy flowers, arrange flowers, chill wines and water, put more things in zip-lock bags, set the table already (unless you have cats...trust me on this one), put Post-it notes (yeah...another product placement book deal here) on each platter designating what it will hold (again, I kid you not - this book says this), organize coffee and tea, plan a schedule for the next day (typed or maybe you have time to get them embossed by a professional if you hurry).

Super Bowl Eve: Clean toilet. Pick up underwear from bathroom floor. Put out dainty hand towels no one will use anyway. Gather all the clutter lying all over the house and toss it in the back bedroom; close the door (remind people NOT to go in there). Get your football phone out of the closet ( you know...that you got free with your subscription to "Sports Illustrated" 10 years ago) and hook it up. Look at it fondly as it WILL go back into the closet tomorrow after the game because your wife will make you do it. She does every year. This year will be no exception. Buy chicken wings and hot sauce. Buy the hottest, bad-ass-est one you can find - look for words like "hotter than hell" and "butt burning" on the label. Call dog over...while wife isn't looking, toss coasters at dog, Frisbee-style, ensure dog chews up each one. When wife comes into earshot - reprimand dog loudly. Chuckle silently behind her back.

Thanksgiving Day: Unzip everything you put into zip-lock bags, cook turkey, fill water glasses, defrost pie, put out pate with crudités and water crackers, arrange the bar...yadda yadda...carve turkey with knife you sharpened the other day (thank God they reminded me). Laugh with an air of superiority at the fact you will use the word "crudités" 47 times during the course of the evening...when all they really are...are chopped raw vegetables you took out of zip-lock bags. Practice this sentence, "Help yourselves to some lovely crudités over there on our vintage Louis XVI sideboard we picked up in a quaint little shop on one of our shopping jaunts to Rouen, France."

Super Bowl Day: Put out dip in giant football platter you picked up when you bought salsa and chips. Put chips in plastic team helmet you also wasted $40 bucks on. Throw away burnt wings you forgot about. While you're in the kitchen, phone your house from your cell phone so you can pick up your football phone in front of your friends. Feign conversation, "Uh...you got the wrong number." Hang up, now use it to order pizza. Marvel at the look of awe on their collective faces...as all THEIR football phones are at home in their closets.

Let Them Eat Cake!

This is my second favourite time of the year.

I'm not talking Valentine's Day candies, cards or flowers...heck, I was married for 20some years and I never really got those things then, it's surely not gonna happen now. I'm talking about an absolutely fabulous tri-coloured sweet...official name: "The King Cake".

While this King Cake history goes back further than the New Orleans version, for the purposes of why they are sold in Montgomery, Alabama...I'm going out on a limb here and assuming it is for the New Orleans Mardi Gras festivities. The King Cake is traditionally a ring of twisted bread topped with icing made of melted sugar which hardens nicely then gets further topped with sprinkly sugar in the traditional Mardi Gras hues of gold, purple and green. They also toss in three coins; gold, purple and green...three strings of Mardi Gras beads...you got it: gold, purple and green, and lastly, a baby. Some believe the baby represents Jesus. I think Jesus wouldn't be gold, purple, or green-coloured...but that's my own personal belief. So, whatever the reason the baby is in there - the luck falls on the person who finds the baby (at one time traditionally baked inside...now they just toss him haphazardly on top with all the other trinkets) in their slice of cake. That "luck" just so happens they get the honour bestowed upon them to foot the bill for procuring next year's cake. Yeah...sounds awfully lucky to me, too.

So, off we trod to get one at my favourite store: Fresh Market. And as luck would have it they have them...and I'd actually be able to eat it the next day when my thyroid scan diet ends! Yes...I'm preparing my make-up feast of sorts one day in advance, and this cake is topping the list.

Well, imagine our outright shock when we open our clamshell cake container -- our lovely gold baby was missing an arm. Where's his little arm? Are we going to ingest the arm? What happens if you ingest a hard plastic fake gold-gilded arm? Will it pass all the way through?

Me? I'm thinking more of intestinal perforation...so I'm hoping the arm wasn't on the baby when he was tossed onto our lovely Cinnamon King Cake.

Still distraught that I have a package with a sub-par baby, my son picked up another the following day - one I've always wanted to try...the Sour Cream King Cake.

I throw open this cake container...wanting to get my baby out as I like to line them all up at the very top of my laptop ...their cheruby little multi-coloured shiny butts precariously balancing, faces looking at me while I type, and hands outstretched in their little "I love you THIS much" sentimentality. This always makes me feel happy this time of year.

But...this was worse...my baby had NO ARMS! My baby also had NO LEGS, NO HEAD and NO TORSO. Someone forgot to toss a baby onto my cake. Not only that - but my three shiny coins were missing as well! Well, I'm not feeling that great NOW...no row of shiny babies...which can also be turned so they moon me from the top of my laptop when I want to be in a real zany mood. But this won't happen now, and I just don't feel very happy at all...was it all because I was short changed 'my change and my baby'? Was that all to it??

No...it dawned on me it might be something a little bit more...sinister!

These trinkets...probably fresh off the lead-lined cargo bins on lead-lined boats in China...are probably themselves laden with high enough levels of lead to leach into the yummy warm icing goodness of my cake...and how would I ever know?

Well, I decided to go over to WebMD's site and check out what the symptoms of lead poisoning are...and frankly...I definitely see a connection:

Pain, numbness or tingling of the extremities: In other words, when I slap your hand or kick your shin for going for the last piece - you might feel some slight numbing or tingling sensation.

Muscular weakness: Okay, your shin I kicked MIGHT also cause you to limp for a few days...I'd keep pressure off it if I were you.

Headache: Did you drink all the alcohol BEFORE or AFTER you ate the cake? If it was before...chances are you probably will get a headache, dumbass.

Abdominal pain: How the heck did you manage to get a tummy ache from just one skinny sliver of King Cake?? Umm...what's
this whole other empty box in the trash?? You ate one King Cake ALL BY YOURSELF and didn't save any for me??? No wonder all you could eat was that scrawny slice...and to think I almost fell for that "diet" thing.

Memory loss: Since they are so incredibly tasty...you might go back for seconds and thirds...and in the morning when your significant other wants a piece and all they find is another empty box sitting there on the counter, your "Uh, I forgot" excuse will
probably render you with more pain, numbness and tingling of the extremities.

Mood disorders: You've never seen someone with more mood disorders than someone who is denied their LAST piece of King Cake. Once the piece is gone...they could never truly savour that "Last Piece" euphoric feeling one gets. Without that feeling, mood disorders will probably find ways to rear their ugly heads...and those ugly heads will probably have even uglier words coming out of those flapping lips.

Fatigue: Yeah...polishing off a whole King Cake and a few brewskies will undoubtedly make you loosen up your pants and stretch out on the sofa with the remote. This one might further substantiate the fact you ingested tainted products by someone telling you to get the lead out. Again, this might also be followed by muscular weakness by someone physically kicking your lazy Super Bowl-watching butt OFF the sofa to help clean up in the kitchen. They didn't invent half-time for nothing, you know!

So, yes, I am convinced these little trinkets should be kept separately in a little plastic bag and positioned off to the side of the cake in the container. I don't know about you - but I seriously don't want to clean up the kitchen after I just ate one of these...plus I bet they don't wash them first...ugh...that's a whole other blog waiting to be written right there. But not now...I'm way too fatigued.

(Yes, I know real lead poisoning isn't funny...but I bet these things actually have lead in them...and honestly, I love the cakes, but I'd rather have the trinkets off to the side.)

Being Scanned

I am on a diet.

I know what you're probably thinking, "Oh, little whiney thing...boo hoo...just eat less and exercise, that's all there is to it."

No, it's not that type of diet. I don't even want to do this diet. This one is doctor-ordered.

I go to the doctor the other day and he wants me to get my thyroid checked. In order to get the best results, according to them, I have to be on a diet for three weeks. Three weeks...altho the paper they give me says "TWO". So, I begrudgingly take my sheet of paper and shuffle out the door.

Now I don't know how many of you are on specific diets - I am sure there are Diabetic diets that are no fun...and people without gall bladders and spleens and people without the ability to swallow...and while I don't discount any of these - this diet is pretty darned severe.

First off it states I can't eat iodized salt or sea salt.

I don't typically add much salt to my food, if any, and when I do, it's sea salt. It's tasty and comes in pretty colours like pink, red and black - all the way from far off magical places like France, Australia and Hawaiian volcanoes...which, when added to the food I make, make me think I'm a much better cook than I am. So, no biggie really. I can deal with this.

- No dairy.

Um...okay, you just took away my salt, now you're telling me I can't eat any cereal? How about some lovely oatmeal from Ireland? I make it with water! Nope...contains salt.

Dang.

- No eggs.

So, wait...I can't eat bland horrible Irish oatmeal...now I can't eat an egg? I can make egg salad sandwiches without salt - I can do that! But you've taken away my ability to eat eggs!

Doesn't matter, they also took away my God-given right to eat bread. No bread??? Wait! This is pathetic...but, there's a catch, I can eat WHEAT bread.

Now, I don't know about you - but I recently became very versed in reading the labels on everything in the store. White bread contains salt...wheat bread contains salt. Am I to believe the salt somehow loses its salinity if combined WITH wheat? The ingredients are the same - only the wheat bread also contains WHEAT!

I can't eat seafood, algae or soy. By reading this list so far, it seemed by the process of elimination, the only thing left FOR me to eat was going to be salmon or soymon or a nice dollop of tasteless white rice on a slab of seaweed. But no can do.

Okay...the list goes on and on - let's just cut to the chase and tell me what I CAN eat!

Fresh meat
Poultry
Potatoes or rice
Wheat or rye bread
Fresh or frozen vegetables
Fresh or frozen fruit

Great! I know what I'll do - I'll make a baked potato for dinner. I'm almost as happy as a clam...because I know that I can't be eaten! Ha! Clams ARE seafood. (Yes, starvation apparently effects the brain first.)

Ding! My microwave goes off. I reach for my potato about the same time it dawns on me that: 1) Butter is dairy; 2) Sour cream is dairy; and 3) The only salt I have in my house contains iodine.

Have you ever eaten a baked potato with nothing on it? It's like eating a rice cake...but without the flavour.

Oh...I know all about rice cakes. I bought a package. Then I threw away the rice cakes and ate the package (sorry, old joke - I had to). Seriously, rice cakes rank right up there. Wait, let me rephrase that last sentence: rice cakes are rank.

Can I eat olive oil? I could eat wheat bread if I had it - but would I be able to dip it in some olive oil? What am I going to cook my saltless vegetables in? I can't use butter...can I use oil?? So, I call the doctor's office the next day as it makes no mention whatsoever about oils.

"Hello."
"Uh, I'm on the thyroid diet and there's things that I'd like to eat that aren't on the list, can you tell me if I'm allowed to eat them?"
"Eat the things on the list."
"This isn't ON the list...can I eat it?"
"What does the list say?"
"Uh...it doesn't address it."
"Then I'd stick with what's on the list."

Yes, this is getting nowhere fast. A last ditch effort on my part - I decide to be assertive, I'm starving - the only thing I ate all day (and that was yesterday) was a bland potato...

"Can you possibly let me talk to someone who can tell me if certain things that aren't on the list...are okay to eat?"
"I don't have the list in front of me."
"Can you maybe let me talk to someone who has a list in front of them?"
"Well, call up the people at the thyroid scan place, they'd be able to tell you better than we can."

So, I call them up.

"Hello...um...my thyroid doctor place told me to ask you if I can eat some things for my scan - I don't want to mess my scan up and have to start all over."
"Well, as far as I know, and I've done this for 30 years, the only thing we ask you not to eat are shellfish and iodized salt."
"You mean I can eat an egg?"
"Are you serious, eggs are on that list?"
"And all dairy, and bread...except wheat and rye. And all already prepared food - because they all contain salt."
"I never heard of such a thing."
"Really?"
"We get people all the time from that office and this is the first I heard anyone ask about this stuff."
"Seriously?"
"Yes."

Then I decide to look online.

Depending on which site you go to...I can eat potatoes but I can't eat rice. No mention of rice cakes and I can see why. There's really not much to talk about when it comes to rice cakes...but if you are hungry enough, putting sliced pears and honey on a rice cake...after you take your Ambien...is remotely bearable. Edible? Eh...the verdict is still out on that one.

But, I have to get this test done on the 1st and I want to do everything in my power to not get disqualified; can you imagine starting all over again? So I'm sticking with my bland "sheet of paper" diet...which, I found out, if you are creative enough, you actually can eat tasty things. You just have to use your noodle.

Which, by the way, aren't listed "for" OR "against" on my list...so I'm eating them!

________________

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History - It Is What You Make It: Blogger Idol - Round 4

Damn you, Philip Marder!

Mr. Marder was my eighth grade History teacher...and while I am cursing him right now...he is no way to blame. Let me elucidate...

I loved Mr. Marder. He was this dark-haired guy who always wore a burgundy suit on Friday, and sported mutton-chop sideburns...sideburns invented (or at least made famous) by Ambrose Burnside (don't believe me, look it up)...and thanks to Mr. Marder I remember silly historical trivial tidbits like those. (I'll be doing a lot of "thanking" later on, by the way.)

He'd come up with all sorts of gimmicks which we thought were just plain stupid to get us to remember facts and figures. We'd roll our eyes at such "beauties" as this one...

"Where are we going?"
"Bearing straight."
"Get it 'Bering Strait'?"

Silly perhaps, but I still remember those idiotic mnemonic devices after all these years. And I still remember he had a friend who worked in the Archives and History Department in Washington, DC, who would smuggle out all kinds of films to him in 1974 that any school system nowadays would get sued over watching. They were...in a word...fascinating. Shocking, in your face realism...but it was history and you couldn't deny it...there it was...in black and white archival format...and I sat there mesmerized.

With a flick of the lights and a flip of a film projector switch, he did something no other teacher before him...or after...could manage to do...until The History Channel came along: he made history interesting.

In fact, thanks to him I owe a debt of gratitude...I love documentaries. I eat them up. Give me anything on Egypt, mummies (peat bog or regular), Kennedy conspiracy theories, Tunguska, UFOs, icebergs melting, global warming, the history of distilling (hey, I'm still fond of all things distilled), the Romanovs, Newton, Einstein, Euclid, and Copernicus. The list literally goes on and on.

I am like a deer in headlights. I love them. And for a long time I went without.

Then came things like NOVA and Carl Sagan's Cosmos Series. Oh, how I loved Carl when I was young. Then there was nothing...there was a void...and then came A&E's "Biography"...and I was again hooked. Discovery Channel had pyramids and The History Channel had bi-planes and Hitler. Well, those last two I could do without -- but the first couple years, that's all The History Channel had to offer. Then it graduated to Civil War...which wasn't very civil, by the way...but it somehow it piqued my interest again.

History, I found, could indeed be interesting again.

Mr. Marder you have now met your match!

For years, between episodes of Seinfeld and Frasier, I was enraptured. I could always tune into A&E for a show like "Cold Case Files" (years before CSI, there was Cold Case Files) - and I could watch...until the wee hours of the night...all sorts of things. Jack the Ripper theories abounded. So did Tutankhamen ones. Who killed Kennedy? Who killed Rasputin? Who killed Marilyn?

The field was wide open...and so were my eyes.

Then, just when it started to get really good...

...it ended.

A&E's "Biography" ran out of people it seemed. They started doing biographies about...people I didn't care about. They went from the guy who invented Ford's assembly line...to the guy who invented the straws they put on juice drink packages. What the??

Then it was the Discovery Channel. My channel about diseases and medical things and scientific paraphernalia...was tanking. Slowly I was discovering it was turning into the reality show channel.

"Engineering an Empire"...went more to engineering a gang...when "Gangland" started up...and I still haven't a clue what "The Dog Whisperer" does...nor do I care. And I have no idea how many "Dirty Jobs" they can do...I think they exhausted their supply and are now down to "the guy who picks the straws up off the floor on the juice box assembly line".

"Ice Road Truckers"? Let me guess. Truckers who drive on ice? How many different variations on this theme can we get? Okay...there's a lot of ice...there's a big truck. Episode One: Battery doesn't start. Episode Two: Truck slides off road. Episode Three: Truck falls through ice. Episode Four: Um...truck slides off road AND his battery doesn't start...ad infinitum...ad nauseum.

"Monster Quest"? About as entertaining as when I saw it all before...IN 1979! "Nothing new ever happens here...move along people."

But I had hope. "Mythbusters" still survived...until it went from being the "Jamie and Adam" show to the "Three Other People No One Cares About" show. All I can remember is that one year they went from interesting topics like "Can you really get your tongue stuck on a pole like in "A Christmas Story"? and "Can you get your butt stuck on a toilet at 30,000 feet?" to totally far-fetched, cockamamie ideas like "Can you actually eat just one Lays potato chip?" and "Can thunking a watermelon predict doneness?" Oh yeah...myth busted! I'm sooooo glad I watched Cary Grant and Tory this time around. (Yes, I know it's "Kari, Grant and Tory" - I just always think of Cary Grant when they say that and how livid he would be if he saw one of these episodes.) I'd like to see more episodes where logical myth things are blown up, and less other stupid stuff...oh, wait, I've got something really stupid for them to blow up: Kari, Grant and Tory! Now that's a show I'd watch for sure.

And I don't know if any of you have noticed...but The History Channel now makes up their own history. It's true. That show "Life After People" isn't even ABOUT history. It's just a play-by-play "as we see it" pre-historical fabrication we're hoping no one will be around in 2013 to dispute. Yes...they are obsessed with the 21 December 2012 Mayan Calendar and everyone's eventual death on that day; and you thought Conan had high ratings...tune in on 20 December 2012 for this "final" episode.

You know - it's bad enough I read Nostradamus' quatrains when I was 14 (thank you, Al Stewart)...and (thanks to a library book on paranormal activity) worried unduly about my premature demise by Spontaneous Human Combustion...but to have to be reminded that I'm going to turn into some Pompeiian-ish cinder right before Christmas two years from now...every single day??? That's a bit much...so thank you, Mayan Calendar Apocalyptical shows...I can't wait until the next 24-hour marathon you've got planned. I'll be there with my remote in one hand and a noose in the other.

Sigh...whatever happened to the good old days where the most you'd have to worry about from watching some documentary is some crop circle in your yard and a sore butt from an alien probing the night before?

So, thank you, interesting history and science documentary channels for morphing your line-ups into some asinine reality show pabulum, and, in essence, giving us "Human Death Race 2012".

And thank you, Mr. Marder for getting me interested in all of this in the first place. While most of these channels stink right now...at least they're not extinct; and there's always hope that "History" (and A&E, and Discovery) will repeat itself.


Seriously, I promised when I first started blogging that I would dedicate one to Mr. Philip Marder. This is it. I don't know if he's still around...but he was the 7th/8th grade History teacher at Laurel Hill School in Browns Mills, New Jersey. If you know him...or ARE him...I'd love to thank you personally. You've instilled a love of history in me that I am forever indebted to you for.

If you liked this blog...please vote for it at Knucklehead's Blog site (link in the image above). Please read all the other contenders as well. If you still like mine, great! Thank you for your vote and your time to read it. I hope my blog was, at the very least, entertaining for everyone. Thank you!