August 16, 2012
A couple of years ago I made the stupid and impulsive choice to copy all my blog entries and delete everything. I’ve tried to salvage what I can, editing out the extra words and numbers, etc. that came with the copied text. Can’t promise I got all of it, but most. When you see any misplaced words, extra letters, etc…Eh.
2009-10-02T11:33:30.197-07:00
Dog Biscuit Delight
A while back at the store I read the ingredients on the side of a class Muttropolis bag of ginger flavored dog treats. The list sounded like something a human could eat. So in front of my colleagues I popped one in my mouth, chewing it to get the full flavor, while my coworkers made faces and refused to participate. It actually tasted good...for a dog biscuit. If I were making my own cookies I'd add a lot more sugar, and probably chocolate chips, to sweeten the ginger flavor. A few days later Nancy Warwick said to me "I heard you ate a dog biscuit." I confessed. "Well, if you're eating dog biscuits I expect you to start eating food that I bring to the store." I love Nancy's cooking, or ability to carefully shop at neighborhood delis. That wasn't why I wasn't eating her occasional luncheons. At one point I was vegan so avoided any foods with dairy. (The dog biscuit was vegan, by the way.) I've loosened up on my diet in the last year so I'm enjoying cheese and eggs. I also brought food from home that if I ate I would stay full until the next meal, a guarantee I couldn't count on when I would eat potluck. Oh, and the class break room has bugs that scurry away as soon as the light is turned on, leaving invisible food tracks across the table and on the floor. So by the end of the lunchtime or day I imagine many uninvited guests have also partaken. Ewww . Now, back to the biscuits. Yesterday Moreen and I were talking about treats and how particular Misty and Penny were about which ones they could eat and still digest easily. I mentioned the ginger snaps and she told me that the staff at Muttropolis regularly eat the ginger-flavored biscuits. I have been vindicated.
2009-09-26T22:46:40.861-07:00
Party Time in ICU
At Scripps Memorial Hospital earlier this summer I was in intensive care overnight. I imagined it being really quiet, maybe the sound of a heart monitor at the most. Joke was on me. My bed with a blue plastic curtain pulled around the small space was about five feet away from what turned out to be at least a dozen nurses loudly discussing a recent wedding they all attended. Every so often a louder voice would yell "Will you guys be quiet? I'm trying to do next week's schedule." Every 15 minutes a male nurse came in to check my vitals, ask me if I needed anything, and turn down the light over my bed. I told him it was pretty noisy and he talked to the group, who were talking quieter for about five minutes before someone new came in. Five hours later, having heard every detail of the wedding from a variety of staff members who carried on the conversation in shifts, right down to talk about the tasty cake, I was moved into a private room. Whew. A friend of mine had brain surgery at the prestigious Lahey Clinic in Burlington, MA. but the nurses stood outside her room or walked down the hall loudly gabbing and laughing. Just a head's up in case, God forbid, you have an occasion to visit the Intensive Care-less Unit. Ask to be placed in the staff break room. It's probably quieter in there.
2009-09-24T11:37:33.063-07:00
The $50 Haircut
I had called Rothman's on Friday to have Julie cut my hair on Monday. I wanted to make sure I got it cut the same way as last time. I'm sorry, sir, but there's no appointment time listed, the counter gal said. I'll call and reschedule and walked out a little ticked. By that time I was so in a haircut mode that I did want to get this errand over that morning. I haven't been to a traditional barber (with the red and white swirl in front) in decades, so I gave Dean at Village Barbers on Fay a try. I described what I wanted and that's what I got (in his words "enough to comb over the top"). I have a serious receding hairline. After a shower recently I looked at the drain and it was full of hair. Oh my god, my hair is falling out worse than I thought. Until I realized it was hair left over from the dog's bath a few days earlier. I paid him with a check and walked out the door. He immediately came out and said "I think you need to rewrite the check. You paid me $50, not $15." I'd thought it was a little steep, but this is La Jolla after all.
2009-09-24T11:38:58.522-07:00
Stogies and Their Boxes
I smoked my first (and probably last) cigar yesterday afternoon. I didn't smoke it more than a few puffs and reviews are mixed. (Cough cough). It was cool seeing smoke come out of my mouth, but it tasted like dry grass. I have been going on 15 minute walks during my lunch break, touring different parts of La Jolla. The Cove one day, tourists on Prospect the next. When I turn left onto Hershel there's a small open air shop, Bob's Casa Habano next to a new mini-magazine and snack store. I had stopped a few days back at Bob's to see a stack of cigar boxes next to his venue. There are better wooden boxes if you come by another day, said Bob. So that's what drew me to the store yesterday when I found two handsome wooden boxes with clasps and hinges, which I bought. I've never smoked a cigar, I told him. class What'd you recommend for a first-time cigar smoker? He sold me a $4.70 Court imported cigar in a class reusable plastic case (which I will use for my portable class meds.) I walked a block down, and passed Karl Strauss (where I almost sat on a bench to light up, forgetting the diner's easy view of the street.) I had heard of people who got sick smoking a cigar. I lit up, sat back, and tried to look like I knew what I was doing. He was right: the Court is so mild and a light aroma and I wanted to experience some blinding class odor I always associate with stogies. Put the smoke out, slipped it back in the case, and contemplated the next time I'll try a few puffs. Today I read the Surgeon General Warning: Cigars are not a safe alternative to cigarettes (another whim, another day.) I haven't found a use for the boxes yet...Oh, hey, I'll fill it with chocolate!
2009-09-15T22:00:31.149-07:00
Following the fragrance
I'm a softy for incredible perfumes. I wish every woman would wear such delightful fragrances. I've complimented several women on their heavenly scents; Last week I was in an elevator with a lady who had the best smelling perfume. It was a light fragrance, but it was like a bouquet. I took it a step too far when I got out of the elevator and as she walked in front of me I told her I was going to follow her all day. Hey, it was just a joke! It's probably some old pick up line that "I like your perfume and I'll follow you everywhere." I'm not too well versed on the protocols of giving compliments. A while back one of our customers was so beautiful it was almost stunning. "Are you a model?" I asked innocently enough. She laughed and her husband/boyfriend teased her all the way out the door. Later Adriana told me I asked the woman a traditional pick up line. I had no idea! Really. I'm so lame sometimes. I could never go up to a guy and tell him he's handsome, as much as I would like to at times. So few guys wear colognes that I can't compliment them on that. I can say like, nice shirt, like your tie, can I borrow those cowboy boots and leather pants, etc.
2009-09-24T11:18:08.543-07:00
Chocolate on the Job
Adrianna tells me every few days how having some chocolate up front has been a godsend. You're welcome, on behalf of the deities. It was just a Christmas experiment, having a container of small pieces of chocolate next to my box. Every so often I would take a couple of pieces and put one inside each cheek, letting it slowly melt. The tradition continues. If I am having a hard day (like getting a paper cut or feeling suicidal) Adrianna insists that I have some chocolate. class Ahhhh ...I feel much better. I do share the chocolate with my bookie friends and most everyone has indulged. But Heather doesn't like chocolate and for others having candy in your mouth while talking with a customer isn't very professional. The latter have a point, but I wasn't having trouble with that until James brought in a bag of larger class Ghirardelli chocolate chips that, when two or more are put in my mouth I sound like I have loose dentures. Now, think of your most embarrassing moment having to do with chocolate. It can't be any worse than this tale: When I was working at Gillispie School I had been known to indulge in chocolate. I was just finishing a chocolate bar, walking from my car into the school, when I saw the toddler playground was full of parents picking up their kids after lunch. Without thinking I smiled and waved at everyone, even talking briefly to one parent standing near the fence. I got some strange looks, with some parents even turning their backs to me. Remember: When you eat chocolate and enjoy it swirling around in your mouth to get the full flavor, it makes your teeth brown. And the spaces between the teeth even gather more chocolate so it's even darker. And this was after I'd walked across campus and checked the mirror in the bathroom. My teeth must have looked delicious as I was greeting parents. I now take smaller amounts to ensure customers aren't coming in because of The Man with Brown Teeth.
2008-11-18T11:08:44.309-08:00
Catching up
I'm allowed to have one of these every so often to list my "incidents" that, if my colleagues at work had witnessed these, would have made them laugh. In trying to open the bathroom window next to the shower I pushed on the screen, which was in the middle of Moreen's garden when she stepped out the front door to run errands several hours later. I untangle the phone cord at work by unplugging the handset from the phone and twirling the black cord into a more reasonable state. I've tried to answer the phone, forgetting that I was still working on my untangling. There's no one on the line, it's dead. Oh... Calling a customer last week I was in the middle of leaving a message on their voice mail when I dropped the handset into the crook of my arm and continued talking. After eating at Roppongis one evening I thought I had found the exit but there wasn't any handle. The waiter standing nearby, explaining the specials to diners, was interrupted by my confusion to tell me to "Push on the right." I started pushing on the right, but "No, on the right side of the door" until he had to walk over to help me "push on the right." It was a swinging door. I had been pushing on the door frame.
2008-10-20T21:31:39.777-07:00
The Haircut
I'm a sucker for deals, and Ross Stores are full of them. I've bought speakers for my PC for under $10. I bought Scott a pair of size 15 shoes for $20, and a size 12 for me for $15. I like those kinds of prices. So when I passed a shelf full of miscellaneous sale items, I latched onto a haircutting kit with razor, comb, scissors and a dozen attachments, all in a black box...for only $10. Wow, I couldn't pass that up. I'd been experimenting with cutting my own hair for a few months. Turned out halfway okay when I used a pair of scissors and a mirror, even using a pair of thinning shears. When I saw the haircut kit, I imagined being able to cut my own hair so easily, just using the various attachments to determine length. Before we went to Dan's wedding, Scott effortlessly used the razor to trim his beard. I needed a haircut so I took out the kit and stood in the bathroom over the sink. I used (I swear) a 3/4 attachment and I planned to cut my hair on top at that length. Then I'd cut the sides at 1/2 inch. I did get the razor through my hair easily. So I did it again. And again. I thought going over the hair several times in the same place would leave the hair at 3/4 inches. Uh...not quite. While Moreen was on the phone I quickly got in the car to go to the barber's and get someone there to clean up. The stylist asked if I was giving myself a reverse Mohawk, because that's what I looked like I was trying to do. I know, I told her, just help me to make it look better. So to bring everything down to the same length, between 1/4 and 1/2 inch, she cut off all my hair. My first thought was showing up at work the next day and the comments I'd have to deal with. So instead, I drove right over the store and walked around to different departments. This is so that by the next morning the shock would have worn off and I wouldn't be so embarrassed. Alice kindly said to me that the difference between a good haircut and a bad haircut was about two weeks. But now that it's short, I can keep it that way with my new haircut kit! I can practice on myself and then put an ad in class craigslist to make some extra money. As long as the person wanted really short hair.
2008-10-15T12:42:35.033-07:00
Gas rebate...with a scammy twist
I recently signed up for several magazines, not that I needed anything else to read, but because, well, I had a chance to win $2 million from the National Magazine Enterprise. "No purchase necessary! Call today!" Oh boy oh boy I could sure use that (which I would divide among all my favorite coworkers at the store, so be nice to me.) For only $195 I could get up to seven magazines over a five years period, two watches, rebate coupons on gasoline purchases, and other offers. Sure, why not? I would pay it over a year with money taken from my checking account. So I've started receiving Forbes, Prevention, ESPN Sports (stop laughing, Steven, and for all those who know my love for sports, I got it for the pictures), Men's Fitness (for the pictures, forget exercising) and somehow "Shape" magazine that has above the magazine title, "Drop a Dress Size This Month." I wondered how I was going to wear that prom gown from high school! Another part of the promotion is $40 in gasoline rebates, $10 a month max. I stuck that in my drawer for the next time I had a gas receipt. About a week later, receipt in hand, I filled out the form, attached the receipt, and prepared the envelope for mailing. But I couldn't figure out what number I should put in the "Order Number" blank on the form. So I turned the form over to see what the rules were and went through all of the 18 "terms and conditions," printed in very small letters: 1. This offer is good for up to a $10 in gas rebates...3. attach orginal receipt...7. send within seven days of gas purchase...14. offer valid only in the United States, etc. And #18? "The order number, available on the address label of this envelope, must be clearly written on the front of the certificate." Of course, I had thrown the envelope away when I first got the mailing, as would probably 90% of the others who got the letter (or maybe I'm underestimating the offer's clientele.) The day before the trash was to be picked up I emptied a full recycling can holding two weeks of paper, aluminum, plastic, etc. I piled it all on the garage floor and went through each paper. (For anyone wondering what I did on my staycation last week, this was sure a highlight!) No luck. So, when I get the watches I'll review all the paperwork before throwing away the box they come in. Maybe I'll need an "activation number" from the address label, with which I would order the tiny batteries needed to use the watches.
2008-10-10T19:58:04.197-07:00
A Birthday Salad
Moreen's birthday was Monday so I took a few vacation days to spend with her. Yesterday we went to a cafe, Tea Upon Chatsworth, and the day before spent the morning at the Hotel Del walking on the beach, shopping, and having lunch. On Moreen's birthday she wanted to go to the Whisk n' Ladle on Wall Street. We've been pleased with the food there, all organic and tasty. We each ordered a goat cheese, walnut, watercress salad to eat after thoroughly enjoying a creamy cup of summer squash soup. While we were eating our salad we were having a lively conversation about the McPain and Spleen campaign. About halfway through the salad I asked Moreen if she'd found any goat cheese in her salad. In fact, where were the walnuts and watercress? Up to that point I was happily chowing down on mixed greens and tangerine slices. The waiter had already been to our table to ask if everything was good, and we assured him that the food was good. Then I found out it was the wrong salad. Instead of just finishing the salad and quietly leaving the restaurant, I called the waiter over to tell him that we'd been served the wrong salad. (Dude, I just came by your table five minutes ago and you were all smiles. Now you're upset with me because it's the wrong salad after eating most of your bowl? Jeez.) Moreen kept trying to signal to me that it was okay, but I was upset it was the wrong salad and I asked for a discount on the meal (I got $2 off.) The waiter did offer to bring out the other ingredients. I actually started getting red in the face until Moreen said that it was okay, that she was happy with the meal, and please don't make a scene, etc. I left the restaurant in a huff. I should have noticed the salad, really. Pretty dumb. So why did I get mad? I think my pride was hurt (sniff) because I almost finished my meal before noticing the difference. (Guys, you won't believe what one of the customers just told me...)
2008-09-06T21:27:48.779-07:00
Say...what?
One of my responsibilities at the bookstore is to call customers who have made requests for books that we don't have at the time. So I was calling one customer about an Angelina Ballerina box with a toy and book. "Hi, this is Warwicks calling. We have your Angelina Jolie...I mean Angelina Ballerina book here." "Hi, this is Warwicks calling. Your two daughters are...I mean your two books (with a title that had "daughters" on the cover) are here for you to pick up."
2008-10-11T21:18:53.519-07:00
The Sunglass Caper
Someone at the wedding said because of my love for chocolate I should visit the Scharffenberger Chocolate Factory in Berkeley. We did finally make it into the store and quickly bought something. But earlier at one point I pulled over, got out of my car, and walked back to talk with my sis, Phoebe, as she, Morgan and Rachel were following us. When I pulled around an island to make a U-Turn I saw something slide down the back window and into the street. Why did I put my sunglasses on top of the car? No idea. Phoebe didn't see anything. Rachel and I looked through the grass and gutters, finding nothing. So we stopped at the factory just long enough to buy some sample chocolates. Later in the afternoon Moreen asked how my day went. "I knew you'd go back to look for those sunglasses." Indeed, I did. It was a 15 minute drive back to the scene of the series of events for which I was now obsessed. I walked carefully along the gutters, cars whizzing by, probably wondering why "that guy's walking weird" after taking a step, stepping back to make sure I didn't miss something. I asked the guy at the gas station. I looked around the corner again. Nothing. I went into a drug store next door and bought a new pair for $10 to replace the pair that were easily $100 (a gift from Moreen, which made me particularly mad at myself for putting them on the roof of the car.)
2008-08-12T21:38:20.082-07:00
My son Daniel got married
Everything went without a hitch for his outdoor wedding to lovely Rachel. Afterward we all went inside to enjoy a delicious buffet. In the meantime...just before the wedding I thought I'd better run to the loo so I don't get stuck in the middle of the wedding having to excuse myself. (At movies I have to go at least twice, but that may have to do more with largest 0" Jamba Juice I could buy to tide me over until lunch, or something else to rationalize my gluttony.) I was feeling great until I discovered, after following Mr. and Mrs. Stewart into the luncheon, that in my rush earlier to go to the loo I had tucked the back half of my jacket into my pants. Why didn't somebody tell me? Argh. Diane O'Connor said no one noticed. If I'd had tp hanging from the back of my pants that would be another matter altogether. Announcing the start of the lunch seemed to take a long time after the buffet table was set up, which was within arm's reach. When I moaned about being hungry, Geof O' kept encouraging me to start serving myself. The bravest I got was to get up and get a dinner roll to chew on. I think I pulled the roll that had been left from another party two weeks earlier. It was hard as a rock. But I was so hungry I tore off little bits and chewed them slowly. Thankfully it was a daytime event and there weren't any candles on the table. I have a habit of setting things on fire when there's a candle on the table. At a fancy dinner I pushed the candle further away from me before I realized, a little too late, that the flame had started the cloth on fire that was around the centerpiece. I blew it out and poured water on it. I managed to lose my appetite. At Moreen's retirement dinner I put a gift I'd received on the table, next to the candle, of course, I smelled smoke and looked down to see the ribbon bow around the box had started to burn. Again with the blowing and watering and then quickly put the box, ribbon still smoldering, under the table. Being in Berkeley with the wedding at 4" Tilden Park couldn't have been lovelier (except for the sun that, when I took off my jacket, showed I was totally soaked in sweat.)
2008-08-12T21:18:56.942-07:00
The Shrunken Stewart
At the doctors last week the nurse asked to get my height, which I already knew to be 5' 10 1/ . She discovered differently. I was two inches shorter than the last time I had my height measured, which I can't recall so it was a long time ago. No, I told the nurse, that can't be right. It is, Mr. Stewart. You can see the measurement yourself. I'm shrinking, I sobbed as she smiled and led me to the room to wait for the doctor. When I told him of my surprise about my height he just shook his head and totally made me feel better by saying, "Yes, people tend to get shorter as they age." My God, I'm 56. If I live to be 80 I'll probably be 5.I guess I can just blame it on gravity and the cycle of life: the earth is pulling us closer someday to even pull us underground (after we're dead, I mean.) Such a lovely thought!
2008-08-12T21:12:04.854-07:00
I swear I don't plan this stuff
I shared an office with Seth, who had some computer work while I called customers who had requested books we didn't have at the store. The back of the special order form has enough room for the customer's name to be written vertically, then the form is taped at both ends as it's wrapped around the book. Before the books go on the shelf a rubber band is wrapped around the form to ensure it stays with the book. I my efficiency I thought I could wrap a rubber band around a book while I was talking to the next customer on the phone. But when I hung up the book was attached to the phone cord. I tried to get the rubber band back around the cord and in my efforts Seth turns to me, laughs, of course. I swear I don't plan this stuff. He watched me for a minute, smiling and shaking his head, as he gave me a pair of scissors. I have witnesses that I don't do these silly things on purpose.
2008-06-07T21:27:50.219-07:00
Pajama Attack = Bruised Ribs
One of my Corgis, Penny, loves to play rough. We'll often go out on the back deck to play, with her running closely behind me, barking. For those short legs she's incredibly fast and I have to run around patio chairs to put something between us so I can have a breather. But she's still barking, and I could hear that bark echoing down the canyon behind our house. That's why I don't play like this before 9 a.m. or after 7 p.m., much to her disappointment when I have to go out the back door for any other reason. A few mornings ago I asked the dogs if they wanted to go play and they ran, barking, to the door. I turned to run and just got out the door when Penny chomped down on my loose-fitting pajama leg. I immediately lost my balance, took a dive onto the deck, landing on my right arm and skinning one knee. I couldn't blame Penny because she was just doing what we often did, but a littler earlier than I was expecting. (Flannel pj's shred easily, I also found.) So now I have bruised ribs on my right side. This isn't the first time I've fallen (see my earlier blog about the dangers of exercise.) I've really been working on my balance (I thought) to keep me from falling. I read that a person should be able to walk a straight six steps, toe to heel, without losing balance. I was lucky to get two steps in. When I mentioned this to Moreen, who is 15 years my senior, she got up and was able to walk the entire six steps in a straight line. Maybe women are more coordinated than guys? I needed to justify her skill somehow. I've also been practicing standing on one leg. My right leg is strong enough to balance me, but my left leg? Forget it. The whole balance thing started several months ago when I was trying to put my pants on, first the right leg and then the left, but I lost my balance, my left foot got stuck in the pants leg, and I (quite loudly because of our wood floors) landed on my butt. No one else was there to give me any pity. Even Penny and Misty didn't come to my room to, at least, give my face a lick like they do any time I'm trying to exercise (which is lessening as the days roll by, for obvious reasons.) Now I make sure I'm holding on to a piece of furniture when I'm trying to stand up to dress myself. And now I'm not quite as eager to have Penny chasing me, nipping my heels.
2008-05-17T15:07:20.448-07:00
Fay Avenue Memorials
There's a pedestrian free for all on Fay Avenue on the street side of the Vons supermarket. Any time, night or day, people jay walk. Old people, children, families, whatever. In many cases they step off the curb talking on their cell phone and don't even look to see if a car's coming. I can't be the only person who gets impatient with people crossing the street to a restaurant or Blockbuster for movie rentals. Some people walk across the street in the dark, wearing dark clothing. I'm surprised there aren't little alters with flowers in various places up and down the street in memorial to those whose timing was off when crossing the street. I confess that I've also jaywalked in that same area. I do look both ways and I'm not talking on a cell phone. so I have some advantage. How many of us have run across the street carrying a purchase to get to our car? Would we stop and pick up what we'd dropped, with the car bearing down on us, or let it get flattened as a trade off to staying alive? I guess it depends on what, or who, I had dropped.
2008-05-17T14:51:50.579-07:00
Honestly!
I tend to go overboard on being honest or truthful. A few days ago after shopping at Whole Foods I discovered a container of sprouts I hadn't paid for. So I went back in, stood in line, and paid the $2. I really couldn't leave knowing I hadn't paid for it. Another time I wasn't charged enough for my groceries, but when I went to pay the additional $7, the cashier looked at me and laughed. I ended up leaving the money on the counter. When I was in third grade I pushed the coin return on a pay phone. I was so excited that (after dozens of similar tries) money started filling the coin return. I counted $1.45, enough money to buy a couple of comic books, candy, Mad Magazine, and more candy. When I walked in the door with a bag in my arms, my stepdad asked me what I had in the bag. I smiled and told him about my little find and going shopping. He got red in the face. "You could have put the money back in the phone!" Oh. So I sulked off to my room and enjoyed my bounty, despite it being contraband. When I was in college there were credit card numbers available that you could use without getting caught. The one time I tried this at a phone booth, the operator came on and said "this isn't your credit card, is it?" Holy shit! "No, it's not" and 20 minutes later after she witnessed to me about Jesus (She said she was using her break time to talk to me) I hung up the phone. I shared a house at one point with a group of guys from my church, one of them being on parole after five years in prison. I really didn't know his full story until he'd moved in with us. He was a really nice guy but I truly pissed him off one Sunday when he walked in the door with two Sunday papers. "How come you got two papers?" I asked. "This way we can all take parts of the paper and there'll be plenty," he said. "Did you pay for a second paper?" Long story short, he threw the papers on the floor, walked out, and drove away. Jeez, Jim, the guy was in prison for five years and you're getting upset about taking a 35cent paper? (Sunday papers were cheaper in the '70s.) He smoldered for a few days and I apologized, telling him the story about finding money in the phone booth and ever since then... I found a $50 bill by an SUV parked in front of the local high school. I debated whether to leave it on the windshield but I didn't know if it was this guy's $50. On my way home I saw a staff member emptying trash at a rest home, so I gave her the money. So the guilt lifted after I'd played Robin Hood. (Afterward I thought of a lot of things I could have bought, and wondered if her friends believed her that a stranger gave her the money. I hope she stopped and bought groceries on the way home.) As long as there were phone booths I always pushed the coin return when I walked by. Of course, I would consider putting the money back in the phone. No, I pocketed the quarter or dime. Of course, if it had been $1.45...
2008-06-03T19:14:11.396-07:00
My size 34
Dear Style Columnist, A couple of years ago I went from a 32 waist to a 34 waist. I thought I could just go on a diet and go back to being a 32 waist. But I am getting older and I could blame it on gravity. I've found LL Bean on line to be the most reliable as far as sending me pants that actually fit me. I have two pairs of pants from Land's End, also size 34, but when I wear them I get mad at myself for gaining more weight. Pretty soon I'll be a 36, but it depends on what company I use. For example the Lands' End 34 inch waist is tight to my stomach and I'm relieved when I can change my clothes at the end of the day. I have several pairs of shorts, also 34's. The one I'm wearing now is by a company called Kahala, made in Fiji. I like the shorts except when I put anything like my keys in my pocket because the shorts start slipping off my waist. I like this pair of size 34! So with these shorts I roll up the waist band two or three times (or if I think about it putting a belt on) and make sure I have a shirt to cover it. I was out running errands and I had my keys, wallet and extra change and even with the rolled up waist I had to keep pulling up my shorts. On those occasions I figure my weight is just fine. But when I put another pair of shorts on, they're so tight the zipper is about to pop. What should I do? Signed, Waisted Dear Waisted, Yes, my friend, gravity has introduced itself, moving the svelt muscles in your chest to your waist and turning it into those "love handles." Do you think your diet has anything to do with those extra ripples? I read your blog about chocolate. God, man, stop eating such large amounts of delicious dark chocolate, 72% cacao, readily available in organic bars from Trader Joes. Didn't you know chocolate is highly addictive because it tastes so good, the creamy confection melting slowly on your tongue, leaving a residue of chocolate that can be enjoyed for several moments. Yours truly, Style Columnist span style="font-size:85%;" (This column sponsored by the Chocolate Industry and does not in any way reflect the views of this blog.)
2008-05-02T17:20:39.494-07:00
A very bad parking move
I thought it was a way to avoid having to make a U-turn in front of the post office, so I backed in to a parking space so that the front of my car was pointing into the street. (Honestly, I don't do these things to get a laugh on this blog. These things just happen .) At the time I thought it was a pretty nifty idea and I would save a little time. But I wasn't counting on a six-foot-tall, 12-foot long Hummer parked next to me when I came back out. I sat behind the steering wheel and thought, "When I pull out it's going to freak people out when they see the front of a car coming toward them." I inched out very slowly until I could get a good look at the street, let about six cars go by, and waited for other cars to go the other way. I felt like I was being watched, which I probably was. I finally pulled out and into the street, and was on my way.
2008-05-02T17:20:00.431-07:00
Change of address
Today I closed a post office box I'd used for a couple of years. Just so I would still get the little mail that came in, I needed to complete "Change of Address" form. It used to be a single 9 x 6" card, but it's now included in a sealed* colorful, advert-filled envelope dubbed "Mover's Guide, Your official change of address kit." On one side it explains that you can change your address online. The other side is a 9 x 4" ad for the home store Lowe's. But if you're moving you also get an array of 0" flyers from: Garden State Life Insurance touting "free information plus a surprise gift!" and urging all of us to "Pack plenty of financial protection. BEFORE You Move the Family. A 10 percent off card to the electronics and tech store Best Buy. "We're having a Moving Sale especially for you." A special $99.95 deal to get your digital cable, high-speed Internet, and digital phone service from Cox or Time-Warner cable companies so you can "Cross three things off your list -- with just one call!" In addition to: Coupons for a SD Union-Tribune subscription; PODS (portable on demand storage); Arrowhead water home delivery; free home security system with a $99 installation fee from JCPenny ; 5" Geico car insurance; T-Mobile cell phone service; a "FREE Professional Installation of up to a 4-ROOM DIRECT-TV SYSTEM; 20 percent off the next Budget Truck Rental; and an offer for a Lowe's Project Card, whatever that is. I looked through everything again because there was one major component I couldn't find. I opened the envelope all the way, reviewed the 11-step directions, and looked through all 6" the coupons again. THERE WAS NO ADDRESS CHANGE FORM! Luckily I went through the envelope before I left the post office, mostly curious to know what else was so important for me to see. Just a way for the p.o. to cover some of its expenses, I suppose. It would have been much more in character to have gone home, let the envelope sit in my desk drawer, forget about it, and have all my post office box mail go into the government's round filing cabinet. Instead, I found another envelope with the card. span style="font-size:85%;" *Because if it were easier to open I would have figured someone else came up to the counter, found the same adverts, and removed the change form.
2008-05-01T16:52:31.936-07:00
Snot Tsunami
I hadn't eaten dairy products or eggs (except in some pastries and sweets) for over 15 years. During that time I've had maybe six colds. But nothing like I got a few weeks after making up for those 15 years by eating every available dairy product on the market. I have and always will like the taste of a good Swiss cheese. But I'm also fond of sharp cheddar (with an apple), a yogurt drink called 0" kefir (of which I had at least a quart a week), warmed brie cheese on crackers, cottage cheese, a lunchtime selection of cheese, crackers and veggies (on the days off from work). I've also had eggs at least once a week, this morning in French toast and tonight in quiche. The first things were my lungs and sinuses reacting to the sudden onslaught of mucus-producing foods. For about three weeks I was coughing, sneezing and blowing my nose. I mean we're talking a Major Drainage Experience so for days I constantly had to have a tissue handy. As soon as I started sniffling I stopped eating any milk-based products. Another thing that happened is that I within two weeks I got this incredible pain in my neck that went from my shoulder to over my ear and the only relief was with i
buprofen, sometimes eight a day. Sleeping on too soft a pillow? Pulling a muscle when doing yoga? I went from famine to gluttony and I paid the price. So I've begun a more sensible diet with occasional dairy to supplement my meals instead of making it about the only thing I ate. Oh, and within a week after I stopped eating dairy the neck pains were gone and haven't returned. Of course, that may have just been a coincidence...?
2008-05-02T11:08:28.361-07:00
My first senior discount (sob!)
When I deliver items to donate to Goodwill and others, I take a few minutes to browse, just in case there might be something that I can't live without. (One person's trash, etc.) I found many things that I'll keep in mind. If I go skiing (ha ha) I can pick up a 0" skier's jumper. Seriously. Blue with a zipper and everything!!! I was looking at it trying to figure out how I could use it. Halloween would be a good time but I would be really hot (like in temperature, not in "hotness" which I already know isn't something I'll ever find at Goodwill.) My coworker Jolene wore a skirt to the bookstore when it was so hot over the weekend and said she was happy that she wasn't wearing pants, her regular attire. She was sensibly wearing clothing that I would think would be cooler in hot weather. So I had an idea about what a guy could wear that he might get away with instead of wearing pants to work. My colleagues have already told me I cannot where kilts. Anyway, aren't kilts made out of wool? someone asked. Yeah, but I think it would be a lot more comfortable than wearing pants. Janet suggested I get kilts with the Stewart plaid. Adriana said that the black pouch that is worn in front of the kilt is made out of seal skin. I figure I'd skip that accessory. If I can't wear kilts, then what? Someone suggested I dress in drag, a little extreme and I don't know how comfortable I would be with that. There would be a really good chance that people would run in terror and call 911 when they saw me in lipstick and a blonde wig. Not to mention customers' reaction. (Maybe if I had a red wig it wouldn't look so bad.) Having a wig might defeat the purpose of wearing a cooler skirt. Anyway, there weren't any kilts for sale at Goodwill, so I crossed THAT idea off my list. I wandered into a section that had really old things like movies for a person's VCR. People still use those tapes? I did find a DVD (I am so tech savvy) of Snows of Kilimanjaro for $3. This brings me to the real reason I started this entry. The woman at the counter asked if I qualified for any discounts. "Well, I am 56." Then you can get a 10 percent discount. I faked starting to cry and told her that I didn't feel old enough for a senior discount. Then she really helped me to say that I could have had that discount THE WHOLE YEAR I WAS 55! I told her how disappointed I was at not cashing in on that deal. Then she smiled and told me to have a nice day. How could I have a nice day when I just got MY FIRST SENIOR DISCOUNT? Sob. Sniffle. Pout. So now that I'm (sort of, sniff) over that trauma I'm going to ask everywhere I shop and eat if they have a senior discount. That's enough reason to celebrate my eventual doddering-stooped-shouldered-and-pants-pulled-up-to-my-chest old age. Now, I feel much better. *Starring Gregory Peck, Ava Gardner and Susan Hayward and released in 1952, the year I was born! Could it be just a coincidence? or (cue Rod Sterling’s voice and eerie music) You have just entered...The Twilight Years.
2008-04-28T22:29:36.679-07:00
Classic: The Squirrel Invasion
We couldn't figure out why our yard was overrun with squirrels, burrowing under the walkway or into the garden. Going online to see what could be done to rid our yard of the rodents, I found a practical tip: "Is there an available food source?" At the time we had a German shepherd, Miss Beauty, whose bowl of dry food was, yes, in the backyard. We put the food inside so the dog would have to eat her meals on more of a schedule. That brought the squirrels out searching for food. Beauty would only watch the squirrels scurrying back and forth, so there was nothing frightening them away. So the rodents kept searching. The first to go were several new flower plants, and frequently we would see that there had been quite a feast. We abandoned any thought of a vegetable garden. They'd dig the seeds out of the ground, unless it had started to sprout, so why dig? These guys were getting so hungry that while I was eating my lunch one afternoon I saw a squirrel on the end of a very thin branch, trying to reach, and eat, a hibiscus flower. My next step was to borrow a live trap and then release the squirrels in the canyon a quarter mile from the house. Every morning before going to work I'd pick up the cage, put it in the trunk, and then dump the squirrel out at, what I thought, was a good distance from the house. Friends said most of the squirrels probably just ran back up the canyon to our house. Eventually, though, the squirrel population declined. When my sons were young they thought it was great fun to see what the squirrels looked like when they'd been tricked into the cage. One morning they called out to me that "there's something black in the squirrel trap!" From where I was standing it looked like maybe it was a cat. except I saw a little white as it struggled. A baby skunk. I walked outside very quietly, unlatched the trap door, dumped the skunk out, ran back to the house, and watched as the skunk ran into our garage. No sign of it the next day, but it was weeks before the boys would go in the garage.
2008-04-28T16:52:37.624-07:00
The Dangers of Exercise
My colleague Jason may be very right about his belief that if I didn't exercise, I wouldn't hurt myself. For example: My latest inspiration is to lift real things: chairs, tables, groceries, to build muscle in places where I really need it, instead of going to the gym and lifting weights. It just seems more practical...and cheaper. This seemed to be a good idea until I was out on the deck Thursday morning and thought I'd carry the patio furniture around the backyard and then put it back. After two large wooden chairs and a pot I could not get off the ground I thought, "maybe if I swing this bench back and forth it will build up muscles in my arms and lower legs." So I stood and swung a small bench high to the left, high to the right, high to the left, high to the...OW OW OW OW...the bench went up and came down, nicking my right knee. For a couple of days couldn't put my full weight on my right leg, which was supplemented with a 0" Futuro sport knee brace. At that point I thought I'd better go inside and sit down. Moreen: Were you rearranging the patio furniture? Me: Well, not exactly. Moreen: I mean, I don't mind if you do because maybe it would look better on another part of the deck. Me: I was exercising by lifting furniture and carrying it around and then putting it back. Moreen: Oh. But you could rearrange it if you wanted to. Me: The furniture's fine where it is, really. But I did manage to hurt myself. So I told her what happened and quickly added "if you' d been out there you could have seen the stupid thing I was doing and tell me to be careful." I started laughing, thinking that my exercising would have made a terrific YouTube spot. Now I can add "Bench hit knee" on my list of exercises that I would have been better off not doing. Among my other efforts to keep my muscles from atrophying: Walking quickly down a dirt path, in the dark, and tripping over a rock and falling into the dirt. Walking quickly down the sidewalk and tripping on a raised piece of cement. (I swore it was at least two inches up so I wrote a letter to the people who lived in the home that they should tell the city the cement is up and the city would come take care of it. I avoided that block for about a month (just in case any neighbors recognized me and said, "Mom, there's that 4" doofus guy I was telling you about.") I looked at the "raised sidewalk" and it was, maybe, 1/2 inch, if that.* Riding my bike home from work, pushing the pedestrian button, a little too hard so that I pushed myself, bike and all, over into the gutter (I had some help...my backpack was full of books.) A lot of cars went by but no one offered to help me, probably too busy laughing, so I pulled my head out of the gutter and walked the rest of the way home.) Riding my bike in the Village to run errands instead of driving really works well. I can get around a lot of things quickly. But coming around a corner I decided my seat was crooked, so I got off the bike to fix the seat and somehow just standing there I tripped over one of the pedals and landed on the ground. (The whole time two guys moving furniture were watching me and while I was sitting in the street, one of them said, "Be careful." Jeez, NOW he tells me.") Yoga poses that stretched a little too far and hurt a muscle in my back, arm, leg or neck and kept me from exercising for a couple of weeks. I've also bruised my ribs on 4" occasion, putting me out for a month or more. (There's not enough space to tell you how THAT happened.) Anyway, you can now understand, to some degree, why Jason gave me that advice. *I started lifting my size-12 flat feet (supported by Dr. Scholl's orthotics) higher to avoid tripping.
2008-04-29T20:25:34.968-07:00
Tips
For many years I've given tips to people who come to work on the house. Every Christmas we put out a Vons gift card for the guys who pick up the trash/trimmings/recycling. Last week I gave a plumber a $10 tip and he said it was the first time he'd ever gotten a tip. (I figure if what we pay goes to the company, then we should give him a little extra.) The utility guy came to check out our heater and as he was getting ready to leave I tried to hand him $10. But company policy said he couldn't take tips. So while he was up the ladder getting his stuff, I slipped the $10 bill under some tools in his box. This week Salvation Army came by to pick up a garage-full of knick knacks, clothes, books, a portable bed and what will certainly become someone else's treasures. We had construction workers in front so the SA guys refused to step on the wood plank to come in and get the stuff. Moreen freaked when they told her they couldn't take anything because their list didn't cover everything stacked there. Huh? I hadn't come out yet when I hear Moreen yelling outside my window to come quickly there's a problem. So I talked with the guy and asked him if I gave him and his buddy $20 tips would that cover it. Yup! So Moreen was happy and our garage was emptied. Working at a bookstore I've been offered* cash when I went out of my way to help a customer, like the old guy who wanted to give me $10 for coming out to his car in front of the store to take his order because it was hard for him to walk. Or the customer who wanted to thank me for carrying her bags to her car parked down the block. (In both cases I was happy to have gotten out of the store for a few minutes.) Years ago I found a woman's wallet, empty of cash, but still had her driver's license. I got her number out of the phone book and called her to say I'd found the wallet. I took it to her house and she gave me $5 (in today's dollars that would probably be $20 today) and I thanked her. With my paper route in high school I went to customer's homes to have them pay me for the Union-Tribune paper. The subscription was something like $1.75 a month or something ridiculous like that. You'd think People’s let me have the 25 cents. Nope. I carried a lot of change. I did get a $10 tip for Christmas from one customer (and little else from the 135 other customers) because I took the paper to the door (it was like four feet from the street). *For my colleagues' benefit: no I didn't take the money.
2008-02-12T22:13:07.837-08:00
Newspapers used to be delivered by kids on bikes
In high school I delivered the San Diego Union to customers in the then burgeoning University City. At one point I was hauling 150 newspapers and doing my best to toss the papers where 1) they wouldn't get wet and 2) where the homeowner could easily find it. In my tossing heydays my manager said I held the record of the most papers on people's roofs. That wasn't a good thing. I got better, except when a guy opened the door just as I threw the paper at his front porch and it hit his leg. Aluminum screen doors were marred on many occasions. I was up at 4:30 every morning, except for Sundays when I could sleep in until 5 a.m. I lost track of how many times my manager had to rap on my bedroom window to wake me up. The worst days were when there were advertising supplements to be stuffed in each paper. Many days I'd have four stacks of ads that I collated and stuck in the middle of the paper. I had to finish by 6 a.m., then head home to get ready for school. At that time I was going to Clairemont High and fortunately I could ride with a teacher who lived next door. But there were also days when I would ride my bike to school, a 15 mile round trip. I was probably in better shape than all the guys who had cheerleaders hanging on them. Yes, I could ride a bike, but catch a football? You've got to be kidding. Over several nights once a month I went door to door to collect people's subscription money. And when I saw a new tenant I would ask if they'd like a subscription. I had a canvass belt in which I carried cash, receipts, and subscription forms. I kept about $45 from what I collected which, in 1967, was a good sum. I quit my paper route a month before the senior prom. I took Cherie Tuckfield and, while driving to dinner, made a U-Turn on a one way street. I know my date has nothing to do with my paper route. If you'd seen Cherie, you would have quit your paper route, too.
2008-02-12T21:44:12.764-08:00
Me and My Bike
When my 1970's era 10-speed bike started missing gears, the guy at the shop suggested I leave it behind the store for a homeless person to take. So I did. Otherwise it would have cost $150 to get it fixed, half of what it would have cost to buy a cool used bike for sale. If the manager had been a little more generous and let me leave a $50 deposit, and he keeps the bike until I pay the balance, for God's sake, I'd have bought it right there. No, he wanted at least $100. But I'll have that next week, I said. That cool bike probably is still sitting in their "used bike" section. So I walked home, bike helmet in hand. When I arrived at my house a neighbor, who had seen me ride my bike away a few hours earlier, called from my across the street. "I left it in the alley behind California Bike. Would'a cost too much to get it fixed." "Replacing the gears? You could get another set on eBay for $30." Now he tells me. P.S. It really wasn't my bike to leave. It was Tim Fielden's bike from high school and I had been borrowing it over the years. Thank goodness his mum agreed there wasn't any reason to keep it. Haven't seen it tooling around. Meanwhile, I'm no longer riding, which is another story.
2008-02-08T13:08:37.674-08:00
The Beet Soup Fiasco
Beet Soup Three medium beets, peeled and sliced One white onion, cubed Two cups vegetable soup stock One cup soy milk Salt, pepper and enough water to cover the veggies Bring to a boil and then simmer for approximately 2o minutes. It will be ready when the beets are soft. Then put it all in a blender, add tofu or cream, and blend until smooth. Add a little honey or maple syrup if it needs sweetening. Pour into bowls with a dollop of sour cream. Serve with rye or pumpernickel bread. Enjoy! At least that was the idea for our evening meal. I proceeded to cut my finger while slicing an onion. Once all the ingredients were on the stove, the pot started overflowing, spewing red liquid all over the stove. So I moved it off that burner and put it on another one so I could clean up the first. While cleaning up the first area, the pot again began overflowing, trashing the new area. Finished cleaning the first, moved the pot back, started cleaning the new space, then the pot did it again. Once more I moved the pot. Once more it overflowed. Uh, four times, Jim? Yep. The beets and white onion were finally cooked, so I put the mix in the blender. Added some tofu to make it creamier, and ran the blender. It tasted pretty good. I left the blender with the hot soup while I walked the dogs. When I returned, I went right to the blender to turn it on for one more spin. And something very large and plastic had fallen into the soup. It was the small plastic doohickey that fits into the blender lid. The heat of the soup had softened the lid enough that the plastic thing fell in. I fished it out of the soup, seeing that several pieces had broken off, and the thing fell off the spoon and down the front of my sweater. Surely I can save this, I thought. I didn't want Moreen to swallow any plastic pieces (neither did I for that matter) so I put the soup through a colander. There were little plastic pieces held back, which I threw away. I thought it couldn't hurt to run it through the colander again...just in case. Then I stirred the soup and, just to make sure, used my right hand to rub some soup between my fingers. I felt little tiny fragments even then. I then dumped the rest of the plastic endowed red glop into the sink and pulled two cans of soup off the pantry shelf. It took at least 30 minutes to wipe up all the beet splatter on the counter, oven top, cupboards, and floor. I changed my sweater to get rid of any more reminders of the event, upon which I later spilled split pea soup. Mmmmm, mmmmm, good!
2008-01-05T13:54:30.091-08:00
Cell Phone Lost and Found #1
Walking home after work I glanced in some ice plant on Nautilus Avenue and spotted a cell phone. I thought it must have been stolen and then ditched as the driver fled. I called the 800 number on the back (if found, please call...), read the lady the number on the back of the phone and.. "Yes, that belongs to a David Fulnem, one of our staff members." Could you contact him to tell him I found his cell phone? That evening... "Hello, this is David Fulnem. I heard you found my cell phone." Yeah, I thought maybe it had been stolen. "No, I was on my way home and so pissed with my f--- boss that I stopped, rolled down the window and threw it." Oh. (Maybe you should tell me really why it was there.) Well, do you want it back? "Yeah, I should probably come get it. You won't believe how mad I was at my boss." Hmmmm...I think I have a general idea. He came and got it off my porch while I was at work the next day.
2007-12-18T21:43:29.761-08:00
"Cujo" is more than a Stephen King novel
To make it through college I sold Fuller Brush door to door. The company offered a variety of grooming products plus bathroom and kitchen cleaning supplies. I'd go up to the door and usually a woman would answer, I would give them a free vegetable brush and then talk about some of the products being offered that week that if you buy two you get one free. My favorite to demonstrate was the kitchen grout cleaner, which I would spray on the counter and then wipe the grout clean. I had a large 0" faux -leather case that I carried to each home so that I could pull out various products and there was a place for an order book. They'd write the check and the next week I'd deliver a sack of products to their door. One neighborhood had tall decorative fences around the homes. I would need to open and close a gate before proceeding to the front steps. I always looked for dogs and at one home, seeing none, I pushed the doorbell. Before I could talk with the person I heard heavy breathing and looked over to see a huge St. Bernard (I know. They're all big but this was REALLY big) standing 10 feet away with its head down and walking slowly toward me. It lunged at me but before it could reach me I pulled the case in front of me and the dog bit into my case. While it was biting the case I backed up to the fence, opened the gate, and pulled the case out of the dog's mouth before slamming the gate shut. At that point the St. Bernard was running back and forth along the fence roaring at me with its deep bark. At a weekly meeting with my manager at a local diner I related this story and two or three people said, "A St. Bernard would never attack anyone." Oh yeah? I got my case out of the car and brought it in to show them the tooth marks that went around one side and the bottom of the case. At this point, rent a copy of Stephen Kings' frightening flick, " Cujo " or read the book about a devil possessed St. Bernard that could puncture car doors. Then tell me St. Bernards don't bite.
2007-12-06T19:40:37.879-08:00
The Mug
On my morning walk a while back I saw an unbroken mug in the ice plant a few feet up a hill from the sidewalk. When I retrieved it, the mug had a taped wrapper on it, "Tips!" written on a piece of paper with the name of a local walk in bakery. Curious, later in the day I took the mug to the bakery and told the cashier where I found it. "Yes, it was our tip jar. It had been stolen at the end of the day before by a young guy who ran in, grabbed the mug, and ran out the door. He maybe got $5. Thanks for bringing it back." As I was leaving I heard her call out to her coworkers, “You won't believe what we got back!" Deed done. That evening I went to a school reception for some big donors and, when someone asked about my day, I laughed through this story. But right behind me was a judge for the Superior Court who, having listened to my story, turned to me and one look in his face I knew this wasn't a story that should be laughed about. Still...
2007-12-13T16:11:05.036-08:00
Fun With Food
There's no one particular incident that I can describe here, just a list of some of the fun I've had with food over the years, hopefully not too high a "yuck" factor, like: When I was making granola (a few years ago now, I doubt too many of us make it now), I was preparing a double recipe and put in lots of oat flakes. I was stirring the batter and set the bowl aside...but the stuff in the bowl was still moving. Boll weevils had infested the oats. I had gone grocery shopping and a couple of days later I tried finding the celery but it wasn't in the refrigerator. Frustrating. They must not have put it on my shopping bag. A week later I did find it...in the freezer. I wonder what distracted me enough that I would store it there? When it was my turn to cook for a houseful of college guys, I always cooked vegetarian. When I burned some millet, the veggies, cheese, soy sauce and other seasonings did not cover the burnt taste. "I'll drive to Jack in the Box." All six got up from the table, leaving me to my burned millet. I am a candy lover, as you know. One Halloween I had a bowl of Hershey Kisses on my desk at work and ate so many that by mid-afternoon I felt like I was drunk. I'd probably eaten half the bowl, about 30. I must not have been very busy that day, until the sugar kicked in. I went home early. Eating eucalyptus lozenges for a sore throat was recommended by a friend. I discovered, after sucking on a few too many, why koalas move so slowly. I was an omelet cook on Sundays at the Iowa River Power Company in Iowa City at one time, and learned to cook six to eight omelets at a time. A little too done on one side? Fold that in and give the person an extra handful of cheese. None were returned so it worked. Working in an Italian deli, clearing tables and washing dishes, the disposal was just wide enough for the small ceramic salad bowls to fall in. I remember turning the disposal on one time during a busy Friday rush and hearing it try to grind apart a pretty sturdy little bowl. In my haste to clear tables at the deli, I had removed a plate of half eaten spaghetti from an empty table. Jeez, the lady finally left. I think she had been working on her third plate. No kidding. A few minutes later, "Where's all my food?" I hear a woman yell. She got a new plate of spaghetti, refill on bread sticks , and another soda. Thirty minutes later and she'd eaten everything. (I was probably doing her a favor earlier.) p /p
2007-12-06T19:17:37.537-08:00
Eating (and Now Enjoying) Dark Chocolate
Yesterday at work I had two squares of dark chocolate at 11:30, two more at 2 pm and, thinking to myself during my afternoon break that I hadn't had that much chocolate today, I had another piece. Adriana and I have joked about me writing a book or creating a blog, "1001 Pieces of Candy to Eat before You Die"-- treats from all over the world. Being able to write my travel expenses off as a business expense in "researching my book," was one very good argument in favor of such a tome. Meanwhile, check out my blog at 1001treatstoeat.blogspot.com. Or maybe a book about how to include chocolate at every meal. (Being a wanna-be-vegan I don't eat any chocolate that's made with milk, which pretty much excludes most of the candy in the U.S. Check the label.) So here's how I include chocolate: Breakfast -- coffee with Double Hot Cocoa from Ghiradelli. Protein shake...with chocolate powder. Or how about a fruit salad with pear, apple, cashews, raisins, banana and...chocolate chips. Lunch -- Chocolate soy milk, chocolate chip cookies, or a chocolate square. Dinner -- Chocolate cake, chocolate pudding, more soy milk, and/or another square...? p align="justify" See how easy it is? But for many years I didn't eat this confection because of the sugar, the calories, the fat content, and milk as an ingredient. Then I went to Victoria B.C. and found Roger's Chocolates, at the suggestion of a friend. My first taste of semi sweet dark chocolate, and I was a fan. Now I get French produced Valrohna 71% cacao bars from Trader Joes , at $3.50 a bar, each two squares carrying 17 grams of fat. Any plans to diet would require no chocolate, of course. Wisely, I decide not to diet. Plus we've all read news stories about how beneficial dark chocolate is for our health...especially if you read newspapers that advertise candy. align="justify" align="justify" For many years I used carob as a substitute for chocolate. And if someone gave me a box of chocolate I would chew several pieces and spit them out, thinking, "Don't we eat chocolate mostly for the flavor?" and hope no one looked in the trash can. /p
2007-11-28T11:09:40.041-08:00
Reader's Digest & Me
A friend suggested I send the story about the woman with the cell phone calling next to the register to Reader's Digest. Here's their response: Dear James, Thank you for sharing your submission with us. We'll be in touch if we decide to publish your contribution. Sincerely, The RD.com Editors Reader's Digest Road Pleasantville, NY This was AFTER I got an email that said: Thank you, James! Your submission makes 20,824,812 jokes, quotes and funny true stories received to date. So far we've paid $25,372,000 to RD readers! If we decide to publish your submission, we'll send you a check!" Doesn't say if that's the total they have ever received, the total for the year, month, or day. My odds to get a check for $100 in the next 10 years are pretty good. Check back in 2017!
2007-11-28T09:35:43.556-08:00
Cell Phones: The Others
p Working at a bookstore we do meet some interesting characters. One elderly guy comes in every day at 5 p.m. to open a book and nod off for an hour. Another regular always asks if there will be food at an author's signing, and was upset when Wells Fargo stopped serving coffee. But it's the Cell Phone People who are most memorable: About a dozen customers looked up startled when a woman started yelling, "Oh my God, Oh my God." She was asked to finish her conversation outside. In the middle of transactions the customers' cell ring, they answer it, and are immediately transported to home, office, or bar, suddenly oblivious to where they are. Before a transaction even starts, a person walks up, puts the items on the counter with a credit card, without making eye contact with a staff member, and is talking on a cell phone at full volume conversation so you start out thinking the person is talking to you. Small mics attached to their ears allow customers to talk loudly and still open and close books, ostensibly shopping. One guy stood over our nonfiction section for at least 10 minutes looking like he was talking to himself. The ones who come into the store already on a loud conversation and proceed to walk in circles around the shelves, opening and closing books at random. As they circle back around, I occasionally put my hand gently on their arm and point to the door. My favorite is the day we were busy at the counter, the phone rang, and the caller asked me to find two books. I found both of them within a couple of minutes, returned to the phone and asked "What name would you like it held under?" "You don't need to put them on hold. I'm right here." She was standing next to the cash register the whole time. "There are other ways to get our attention," I said. "Oh, but you know this cell phone generation!" as she smiled broadly.
2007-11-29T21:18:08.647-08:00
Hard of Hearing?
While walking the Corgi's this morning, I heard, "Jim, Jim, over here," and I called out loudly, "What?" Up bounded a black lab, followed by a guy yelling " 0" Jeb , Jeb ." He wasn't that much closer when I realized what he was REALLY saying. Try saying Jeb out loud. To me it sounded like "Come here. Jim. Good boy." At the store I blame the ambient noise (cash registers, customers talking, phones ringing) on how hard it is to hear people. Heather was exasperated one day when she and several others were calling out my name. I thought they were saying " Jeb , 4" Jeb ." (Kidding) Did you really not hear us? She laughed and others were shaking their heads. I couldn't blame a transaction because I had my back to them working on another project. I like to say I was " 5" focused ." They just wanted to tell me it was time for my break. I've picked up the phone, "Good morning, 6" Warwicks . This is the book department," and (I swear) the response I hear is a muffled voice saying, " 7" Waa duh half 8" waa duh?" After two times asking them to repeat what they were saying, I put the person on hold and beseechingly ask for 9" someone else to take the call. Jason's good about this. "Hello, book department...Yes, we have world almanacs." WORLD ALMANACS? That is not what they were asking me. Then there's going to the back of the store for customer's special orders, trying to find the book for " 10" Seedly " and returning to the front to have the customer spell " 1 Tealey ." Brother...I'm working on Jason's suggestion that I read lips while the person is talking. That's helped, as long as I can hear a little of what the person is saying. I can see their lips. Their lips are worth looking at. There's no " 1 Baballoo " or some such on the store's background music.
2007-11-26T21:54:11.853-08:00
The Cruise Control
Years ago I called Sears for an appointment to have my car worked on. When I arrived, the receptionist said the scheduling person had quit and ripped out a bunch of pages. This included my posted time, of course. Before I moved to Iowa I bought a pair of boots, on sale, to wear on a farm that summer. "The boots are waterproof," said the salesman. Cool. I arrived in Iowa and a month later a friend forwarded my mail, which included a letter from Sears. "The check you gave us could not be cashed. We are charging you $25. Only a money order will be accepted." Well, granted, that was my fault, but $25 at the time was like $50 today. So those "sales" shoes, although did prove to be waterproof, cost about twice what I would have paid full price. Another time, I figured the cost of gas to visit my sons in Oregon would be at least 1/4 what a plane ticket ran. While driving up I5 during a very boring part of the drive, I saw flashing lights behind me and pulled over. The ticket for speeding was $50. Crap. I thought getting a cruse control for my car would save me a lot of money, in the long run, because it would keep me at the speed limit. Another $75 to Sears. Well, at least I won't get another ticket. But about 20 miles out of Portland I heard this clunk, scraping, and watched in my rearview mirror as 12 inch box -- my new cruise control --get run over by a truck. Then I got another ticket on the way home. I'm SO glad I decided to drive and save some money.
2007-11-18T21:48:08.013-08:00
My Handwriting History
I can't write a note at the bookstore without someone commenting that the numbers I write down are illegible. So I type everything, sometimes even phone messages, to avoid the grief I get about my handwriting. Everyone else writes out their special orders; I cut and paste the order and type the other information. When I worked at Gillispie with Moreen, staff often had to her asks what my note said. (In defense, once -- in a long while -- teachers would ask me to interpret a note from Moreen.) I blame my wretched writing on a class I took once on "short write," in which dots and lines were used to take notes. For example, the word "let" would instead be written as an l with a quick line, which made the "l" look like a cross. From that point on, my writing was useless. Somehow it triggered my lazy gene. Jason at the store tells me just to slow down and not write so fast, but it seems like my mind is ahead of my hand. I've tried to improve my writing. Years ago I wrote my mom a letter from Iowa with my best penmanship, mainly to show myself that I could, indeed, write legibly. A week later Mom called me to ask me if I was okay. "Yes, I'm fine. Why do you ask?" "Well, the way you wrote your last letter to me, I thought maybe you were sick." When I told her I was trying to write neatly, she said she thought for sure I had come down with something.
2007-11-15T18:07:31.803-08:00
Classic: The Auger
I worked on a farm years ago and a few guys were asked to dig fence holes in the winter. Well, in Iowa the ground in January is solid, frozen dirt. Problem here was drivers would come down a graveled road behind the farm and, when trying to turn a corner, would slide right off the road into trees and bushes. Three of us set up a tractor and an auger (similar to what's shown in the link, but three times as large, much heavier and run by a tractor motor) and got the thing turning. But in 15 minutes it had gone about 1/4 inch. Nearby was a small pond that the other guys wanted to slide around on. I told them to go ahead, I'd wait there. Being in Iowa in winter, I was wearing several layers of coats, sweatshirts and long underwear, and heavy jeans with bulky underwear, probably three layers. So head to toe I was a walking thrift shop. At one point I turned to see what the guys were doing and I suddenly felt this pulling on my back. There was a giant rip as the auger caught my layers of clothes and tore half of them off. In fact, there were so many clothes that the auger got jammed. This all took less than 10 seconds. The guys ran over and looked at me and started laughing. I told them it wasn't funny. People can get really hurt getting pulled into a machine like that. Luckily I was wearing 8 inches of padding, but it wasn't doing much good wrapped around the auger. I realized the reason I was so cold was because I was hanging off the augur without a stitch below the waist. Just then a truck turned the corner and I did the best I could to cover myself. It didn't help much and the truck pulled up and stopped in front of us and THEY all started laughing. "We know it's not funny, but you should see yourself." Did I mention the truck had several women in it, women I knew from the farm? The driver at least had some heart and pulled away. About that time someone had the sense to start cutting my clothes to get me off the auger. A blanket was wrapped around my waist, finally, and I limped up to the main house. I did still have my boots and socks on. I saw what happens when clothes are suddenly ripped away. (I know you've always wondered about that if it happened to you, right?) Well, I had some pretty heavy-duty rope burns that went across and between my legs. So close, in fact, that later in the day when a nurse came to see the wounds, she said, "Looks like you almost lost your family."
2007-11-13T19:32:40.314-08:00
A Man Without a Cell
Time-Warner today hooked up our home phone on the Internet, a less expensive package deal with fast online access and cable TV. The guy came while I was on an extended errand. When I got home the phone didn't work, just a beeping sound. Oh, great. Problem: I don't have a cell phone, and am probably one of the last holdouts in a nation of mobile communications. So, obviously I couldn't call TW from our phone. I had a Skype set up and thought now is as good a time as any to activate it so I could call on my computer. I called the TW number and was excited to hear it ringing. I tried to press " for Technical Assistance, but my computer key just didn't do it. So I waited for an agent to answer. Her voice sounded like I was listening to someone on a speaker phone, so I could hear her fine. Problem: Her: Hello, Time Warner Cable. May I help you? Me: Hello, can you hear me? Can you hear me? Her: Hello, this is Time Warner Cable. Hello? Click. Me: No, I guess you can't hear me. Afterward I realized I needed to speak into a microphone or get a Skype head set instead of talking to the front of my computer where I thought there was...Oh, never mind. I tore my room apart trying to find a microphone, which, of course, I couldn't find. I then did what I would only do as an absolute last resort: ask neighbors if I could use THEIR phone to call about MY phone. So I went across the street and knocked on the door there, but no one answered.(I swear I heard voices.) A few doors down I tried another neighbor, and no answer (I was beginning to get suspicious). Finally another neighbor did open the door and let me use their land line. After being on hold for 10 minutes, standing in my neighbor's kitchen, TW assured me the phone would work within 15 minutes, so is there a number I can reach you if it didn't go through? Me: "Uh...I guess you'll have to email me." Thankfully I returned home again to hear a dial tone. But first, Moreen: "Ken called from Time Warner to tell you the phone worked. He said he knew you had called from a neighbor's house, and to tell you that the phone is working." Thanks for calling, Ken. I'd have saved myself a lot of time and barred doors if I had a cell phone, true. I had a cell phone for work about 10 years ago when mine weighed a pound and was so big it wouldn't fit in my pocket. Other occasions when a cell phone would have been handy: At the masseur's home, obviously. When I was locked in the patio behind the store. When a friend said to call him when I got to the outside gate and he would let me in. Too embarrassed to tell him I didn't have a cell, I went to a nearby downtown coffee shop and asked a server if I could use their phone. I told my friend I'm not right in front of his apartment building, but would be there shortly, without admitting I was cell-less. I left a couple bucks in the shop's tipping jar. Another time, under similar circumstances, I had to go to a liquor store about 1/4 mile away to ask the owner, who pulled her cell phone out of her purse so I could call my friend for directions to the place we were meeting, and when he asked where I was, I reminded him I didn't have a cell. "Then why did you say you'd call me when you got here?" Uh...I think it was your idea? When I passed a burning car in the middle of the night. (Just kidding.) So my cell could ring in the staff break room, to join the cacophony of sounds coming from backpacks, purses, and lockers. My God, my sons Dan and Scott have had cell phones through college and beyond. They've never had a land line of their own. Scott even has one that can be used from Macedonia, where he's in the Peace Corp. I know, I know. I am SO 20th century.
2007-11-17T08:36:42.609-08:00
Classic: Roger or Richard Wagner?
In Hawaii I spent two years as an assistant to the p.r. director for the Honolulu Symphony. Among my responsibilities, I wrote press releases about upcoming artists, supervised volunteers for numerous mailings, and proofread the symphony programs before they are printed. Those pricey programs were full of four color ads, commentaries about the composer and the music, info about the musicians, maestro, and soloist. Whenever I made a mistake (hey, Jim, I thought you didn't make mistakes?) my boss Jan would comfort me with the words, "This is nothing that would make Russia invade Czechoslovakia." an adage that even today I wonder about. (Was she Russian or Chek?) One Monday morning, she called me into the office, closed the door, and said "Russia has invaded Czechoslovakia." Five thousand programs had been printed for the most recent two-weekend concert series and there had been a typo that required them to all to be reprinted. In the title page introducing the pieces to be played, I had written the composer's name as Robert Wagner (the actor) instead of Richard Wagner (the composer, and pronounced vahgner.) "Luckily it was noticed after the first performance," she said. "The printer had to go back to press, work all night and the next day, a Saturday, to have the correctly spelled program to the audience." I figure each program cost at least a buck or more to be printed (this was 1982 after all so we're talking about a lot of casino change.) I left the office shaking my head, instead of seeing it roll, and if I hadn't been such a handsome, personable, charismatic young man* the latter probably would have been my experience. span style="font-size:78%;" *This is based on a nationwide, state to state, door to door poll conducted by NPR and MSNBC that I truly am a man.
2007-11-18T09:40:55.628-08:00
Locked in the Patio
Trying to be helpful one day at the bookstore, I went out the back door of one of the offices and into the patio where several of us eat and relax during breaks. When I turned around to go back in from God knows what I was out there trying to do in the first place, I realized the door back into the store locks automatically unless held open. Oh, well, I'll just go out the back gate and go in that way. But that exit was also still locked. I went back to the door and started knocking...and knocking...and knocking. No response, which isn't surprising because on the weekends we have few reasons to go in the back offices. How could I expect anyone to hear me? Okay...I'll stand by the fence and wait for a customer to go by and alert my (soon to be laughing) colleagues that I was locked in the patio. This must have really been a slow day because five minutes later no customers walked by. I imagined myself climbing the fence and falling headfirst into the parking lot. I decided a safer bet would be to shake the gate really hard and yell "Help." No response. Now I was really getting miffed...by now one of my coworkers should be wondering where I was. My last resort: lie on the back porch and bang repetitively with my fist on the door. Knock...count to three...knock...count to three...knock...count to.... "What are you DOING out here?" asked Heather as she opened the door and found me sitting on the porch. "Didn't you guys hear me? I've been knocking and knocking." At that point she was laughing too hard to even try to listen to my explanation of how I ended up locked in the patio. Well, can you blame her? None of my other coworkers could keep a straight face as I tried to tell them about all the (sob) suffering I had gone through. "I heard knocking from the counter, but when I went back to check it out, the knocking had stopped," said Heather. That's probably during the time I was trying to break...I mean...dislodge the gate. "Then a few minutes later I heard the knocking again and thought, what is going on? That's when I went back and heard you pounding on the door. We were beginning to wonder where you were." I WAS missed. I felt much better. Two months later Heather savors a chance to tell this story of my traumatic 15 minutes. It did feel like a lot longer than that, I swear. Later she doesn't hesitate to add that the first thing she wondered was whether I had fallen asleep (just because ONE time my 15 minute break extended a half hour, but I clocked out early to make up the time.)
2010-01-14T22:16:40.095-08:00
Locked out of house, sliding through fence goes in not out
I learned a long time ago to bury a house key under a plant in the front yard so that if I'm locked out of the house, I have a key to get in. I just have to remember which plant has the key. I make it easier by getting a hollow, plastic "rock" in which to put keys. We all have "I got locked out of my house" stories and
Boyds Toilet Void
Bible in the Toilet
2007-11-13T20:31:24.133-08:00
Classic: The Skunk Chase
For many years I've used the bike path for walking and, more recently, to take our Corgi's Misty and Penny, for their morning romp. But when I first started using the bike path, I had a few surprises. For one, the path is actually used for bikes . And people ride them really fast during the day...and at night in the dark without a light. And expect you to hear them yelling "On your right," while you are intently listening to Morning Edition on NPR. I've never been hit, which is good. But I had nature to contend with on this particular occasion. I'm usually up by 6 a.m., to get some exercise before all the students get dropped off at nearby middle and high schools, and while drivers are waiting, I know they're looking at me as I'm walking back up the hill. I look at people on the sidewalk when I'm stuck in traffic, so I know. So one morning a while ago I was walking south toward Bird Rock, came up to the top of a small hill and saw, about 25 feet away a VERY large skunk. I would say it was about the size of a small dog. I'm not exaggerating. A small dog but with a big bushy black and white tail sticking up in the air. We both stood there looking at one another, waiting for someone to make a move. Unfortunately, the skunk was first. I swear it started running toward me. Really fast. Oh god, this isn't happening. I turned around and ran as fast as I could in the other direction. I'd gone about 100 yards and I turned to look over my shoulder and it was STILL CHASING ME. I ran about 1/4 mile as fast as I've ever run and was hoping, praying, that if the creature was still chasing me I would get to the road soon enough so there would be witnesses. Especially if it decided to lunge at me. I got to the street and looked back. The skunk was loping back to where I'd met it, I guess. I'd never heard of a skunk chasing a human. Perhaps it was guarding its nest of baby skunks and I looked like someone who would bother her/his family. Or maybe it saw or smelled in me a potential mate.
2007-11-13T20:24:23.918-08:00
Brain Tumor Book Snafu
At the bookstore when I meet customers I want to help them find the book, preferably with us. But there are occasions when it's only available as a used copy, so I refer customers to abebooks, my favorite used book site. Recently in trying to help a customer find an out-of-print book, Brain Tumor Research , I logged on to my abebooks account to show the customer how easy it is to find various titles. Yesterday I was checking my bank account and noticed I'd been charged $49 for a book that I don't recall ordering. Did someone find my credit card and bought a book with it? So I went to the abebooks site to find out which title of the book I had "purchased". One guess about the title. Yes: Brain Tumor Research . But I don't remember checking a box that said process and pay for the order (which I sure would have noticed had I clicked those buttons.) Somehow when I'd gone on the abebooks site I inadvertently pressed the purchase button? So now the guy who really wants this book at the $49 price can't GET the book at that price...because I bought it. I know it will be a real page turner. I'm looking forward to reading it every evening before bed. Even though it's already been shipped, I've started the process of having the book returned and my money back. Maybe then the customer can get the book he wants. I can imagine how he went home, went online to order the book and noticed that it had already been purchased. What a coincidence that two people would need the same book on the same day, he probably thought. I hope he thinks to check online in a few days to see if the distributor has "more" copies to sell.
2007-11-10T20:43:08.266-08:00
Keys Locked In the Car
I had an appointment for a massage at 6:30 tonight. Earlier in the day I had written down directions, ala MapQuest, but I forgot to write down one street that I needed to turn left on. I went back the way I came and decided I might as well try the other route, which was the right one and I got there at 6:31. (For those who know me I'm hardly ever on time.) I found what I thought was the address and rang the doorbell four times during a five-minute wait standing at the door. No answer. So I went to my car to wait a few more minutes and saw the garage door go up. When I rang the doorbell again a guy came out and had no idea who I was OR recognize the name of the masseur. He told me his address, 2957. Jeez, I'd been waiting at the wrong house! When I went back to my car I discovered that I had locked the door and the keys were in the ignition. Crap. So I went next door and the fellow was home and waiting for me. He asked me to take off my shoes before I had a chance to tell him I'd locked the keys in my car. Then I told him what happened, "but it's okay because I have AAA." The only problem is: 1. May I use your phone? (I still don't have a cell) 2. I don't have my glasses, so could you call the number for me? 3. I still don't have my glasses, so can you punch in my member number? 4. AAA: How do you spell the street name? What's your phone number in case we need to call you? Your car is a Toyota Corolla? (No, sorry it's a Nissan Altima.) Someone will be there in 30 minutes. 5. No massage, sorry, because I have another appointment, he said. 6. When he asked me if I wanted to wait inside I told him I was too embarrassed so I'd wait outside. 7. After 30 minutes of stretching, sit ups and push ups (I was hoping no one would come walking down the sidewalk), AAA showed up, got my car door open (for which I tipped him $10), and drove home. 8. When I got home I told myself, "put that extra key in your wallet so you don't get stuck like that again like when you locked your keys in the car at the casino." 9. Later in the evening while trying to find my credit card (which I think I threw away with some med paperwork at the drug store. No kidding.) I discovered... 10. ...I HAD put a key in my wallet after the last time. When Moreen asked me why I was laughing she shook her head and went back to reading her magazine.
2007-11-08T16:05:18.885-08:00
A Garden Somersault
One late warm summer evening I decided to do the watering of the backyard garden. Moreen was visiting her grandkids in Seattle and I was left with the weighty task of keeping all the plants alive. Before Moreen retired we had a portion of the backyard formed into hillside gardens, complete with a path leading down to a fence. Workers carefully stacked large bricks for walls alongside the path. I had pulled the hose down the path and was facing up toward the deck when I was watering. With the hose lifted above my head and with me leaning back, I fell backwards over one wall, somersaulted into the dirt, and slid to the bottom wall. Next thing I knew I was sitting in the lower path trying to figure out how that happened. I limped up the hill to tend to a few scrapes. I was only wearing a pair of shorts. I kept asking myself, "How did I do that?"
2007-11-08T15:53:03.608-08:00
Classic: School Programs
While at Gillispie School I was asked to go to Copy Cove for the printed programs that were to be distributed at a show that morning. With a box top full several hundred yellow folded sheets, I did what I have done before, and put the box on the trunk of the car, started to drive away, and saw behind me a flurry of paper trailing behind. But this time I had to stop traffic and retrieve the programs...with the audience showing up at any minute.
2007-11-11T20:49:21.550-08:00
Celebrities at the Bookstore
I work at Warwick's bookstore in downtown La Jolla and see dozens of regulars and tourists visiting scenic La Jolla. I expect many celebrities have come in and, without makeup, etc., pass for the average Joe or Joesy. I know of three sightings and two faux pas I will never forget. The tabloids are right about Diane Keaton. When she came into the store she was recognizable first because she had an outfit on that was similar to her duds in "Annie Hall." She came in for a book and slid her card across the counter without saying anything. Package in hand, she strolled out of the store, by herself. When Kathleen Turner (War of the Roses) came in, I first recognized the hoarse bass voice for which she is known. I hadn't looked up at the customer, rang up the sale, and asked her if she was a member of the store's frequent reader's club. That's when she said "I don't live in the area" and I finally looked up from the counter to see Ms. Turner. I became so flustered that (God knows why) I blurted out, "Aren't you in a musical on Broadway? She got a kick out of this and laughed, when I realized no, it wasn't a musical. It was the long-running play, "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf," in which she played the lead. So much for my cultural awareness... Another time I walked up to a customer at the counter and asked about his tattoos, a process that fascinates me. There's always a unique story behind why they got this or that tattoo. Tall, tan, blonde guy, he pointed at the tattoos that went up his right arm and onto his chest and briefly told me about the people that inspired the multicolored swirls and artwork. I'm impressed that someone would put themselves through a process that seems rather painful. "And this tattoo, Guns and Roses, that's for the band." God, I thought, he must really like the band's music! After he left my colleagues were all over me, "Do you know who that was?" I was clueless. It was Duff McKagan, formerly of Guns n' Roses and now with Velvet Revolver.
2007-11-07T21:10:19.984-08:00
Classic: The Runaway VW
I washed my VW bug and drove it into the garage to wax it. But when I got out of the car I saw that I was just too close to the washer and dryer, so I needed to back the car up a few inches. I must have pushed a little two hard as I watched the car go down the driveway, across the street, up an ice plant embankment, and then down into the side of a station wagon parked across the street. It all happened in about 30 seconds. I ran into the house and announced to my college roommates and friends what had happened. "Then it hit a station wagon across the street." Mel jumped up and ran outside to see what had happened. "My dad is NOT going to believe this happened," said Mel. "I just picked it up from the body shop where it had been repaired after getting hit on the other side...by a VW."
2007-11-13T09:27:10.386-08:00
Classic: The Wedding Cake
I must have been 20 when I was a best man at an informal wedding in Balboa Park. This is about all I remember from that afternoon. I can remember that the guy getting married was named Michael. The rest is a blur. After the reception, also outside, I offered to take the top of the wedding cake back to Michael's house so it could be frozen and, presumably, eaten on their first anniversary. (I wonder if anyone really does this.) I carried the white cake with white frosting and colorful flowers to my car. I got into the driver's seat, turned on the engine, and was about to take off when I saw several guests waving at me. Of course, I waved back. As I pulled away from the curb I heard a sliding sound that ended when I saw the cake slide down my back window and over the back of the car. I figured out too late that I brought the cake to the car but didn't put it IN the car. When I opened my door to see what had happened I was too embarrassed to look back at the people. I found the cake face down on the asphalt, the impact of the cake onto the road mushed it all down to about six inches thick. I pulled the cardboard off the bottom of the cake and used my hands to scrape the cake, frosting, and flowers onto the cardboard.
2008-04-25T17:46:48.398-07:00
On behalf of the O'Connors and the Curious
My dear friend Diane O'Connor has been kindly pestering me for the humorous and odd situations and circumstances that are unplanned and aptly called Jim Stewart Stories. This can be applied to my life, of course, but perhaps you have a "Jim Stewart Story" of your own? As I record some of my current and past blunders and mishaps I would also love to hear about that peculiar event that even today gets you, your friends, family, and colleagues laughing. But not laughing at you, but with you. The stories should in most cases but not all (as you will see when you read a few of my entries} cause physical pain to yourself or others. This rule was imposed by Diane, so I have learned that the retelling has to have been a very funny circumstance that when you look back on it...
One of the few posts I’ve had on my blog. A colleague, having fun.
Jim Stewart, I love the way you smell. There, I sa...
Jim Stewart, I love the way you smell. There, I said it.
Seth Marko
http://www.blogger.com/profile/00922996648969538941
noreply@blogger.com
