An ordinary day

My friends took the bus to Lucca today and I decided to take a day to wander around more of Florence.

The Galileo Museum has been closed for renovations and is supposed to re-open this spring. May is spring, so I walked over to the museum. It turns out, that in Florence, June 10th is spring. While technically that is correct, it is not helpful for those of us here in May. There is a very large sun dial outside the museum and so I knew I was there at 11am. That didn't matter, but it was helpful to know how long I'd already been wandering around.

I also stopped by a post office to change some more money. Invariable, no matter when or where I travel, I need just a few more dollars (or shekels or euros) to make it through the last few days. The other good thing about the post office is that there are seats, and it is cool, and maybe even air conditioned. There are no actual indications at the post office that you can change money there - I'd read about it, but there's all sorts of bad information on the internet, so really, I had no idea.

The other interesting thing we've discovered is that not so many Italians speak English. I'm not one of those people who thinks that the rest of the world should all learn "our" language, but given that I don't know Italian, I have been seeking out those people who do have some English facility. I did not find any of those people at the post office.

But I watched what everyone else was doing, took a number and waited to be called. The clerk behind the counter also didn't speak English, but she did speak the universal language of money, which was helpful enough.

While I was waiting to be called, I noticed that you can do more at the Italian Post Offices than just buy stamps and change money. You can also buy music CDs, exercize videos, books (ficton and non-fiction) and office supplies.

We're leaving Florence tomorrow. There are simply too many tourists. Groups with the leader wearing a funny hat, carrying a bright yellow umbrella or in sad cases, a stick with a bright rag on the end. It doesn't matter whether I'm in DC, Chicago, or Florence, I'm not a fan of groups of tourists.

Sadly, we will be missing the Firenze Gelato Festival. That might be for the best, but I can't see how. There is also a Terra Futura conference that was scheduled to coincide with the gelato festival. I guess they're thinking that gelato is part of an environmentally sustainable world. I agree.

Pizza Redemption

The pizza I ate for dinner was definitely a step up from lunch. Still, so far, the pizza in Rome has been better than pizza in Florence.

There's a huge market here with all sorts of leather goods. But at the end, there were a few other types of artists, including a Moroccan who had beautiful water colors and etchings. I'd rather spend money on art than leather, so I did. I'm sure I'll spend far more on framing than I did on the etching of the Ponte Vecchio, but that's okay.

The artist was drinking some wine as we approached his table, and before we could even start looking at his work, he told us he'd been drinking for 32 of his 48 years. The only person he really loves is his mother because she gave birth to nine people. I didn't ask about the wedding ring he was wearing.

Hotel Carravaggio

This hotel is definitely three-star (as opposed to our four-star hotel in Rome). The rooms are fine. The bathroom is clean. There are fitted sheets on the bed (as there were at the hotel in Rome). But the beds are the smallest beds I've ever slept in. I tend to toss and turn in my sleep, and in these beds, if you toss, you can't turn. And if you turn, you definitely can't toss.

In addition to cereal, milk and rolls, breakfast features all sorts of packaged foods- from jelly and nutella and honey, to crackers and pate. Yes, pate. I have only one word for this. Ewww.

David

Michaelangelo's David doesn't look very Jewish. And we all decided that the Accademia is our kind of museum. A few specific things to see and not too big. We spent almost an hour there, most of it looking at David, who doesn't actually seem very self-conscious given how many people are staring at him.

The pizza today (so far) has been disappointing.

Firenze

The waitress on television was most definitely not named after this city.

Smaller than Rome, more manageable, more diverse, both old and modern, and not quite as much graffiti. In Rome, everyone was wearing something bedazzled, or at least shiny. Here, they are dressed to the nines, and you can look at them in direct sunlight and not be blinded.

The train was an adventure. First, we all decided to walk to the train station. Bags on wheels are a great invention, but five people, four of whom have the identical bag, walking in a line like ducks for a mile is just embarrassing. At some point, we thought that two or three might take a bus or at least a cab, but in the end, no. We all walked.

And, we all have bags that are too big. Thankfully, they fit under the seats of the train, but not so easily. And none of us believed it was time to start getting our bags out so we could make a quick exit when the train stopped. Oops.

We’re hoping that the call I made to Italy a few weeks ago to reserve tickets for the Uffizi and Accademia will actually yield tickets. We’ll find out tomorrow.

And, just to be on the safe side, I had both pizza and pasta today. I have yet to have gelato, but the night is young.

Addendum

1. We did not expect to get mugged in Naples, but the city has as reputation as the pick-pocket capitol of Italy. We also were not disappointed not to have been chosen to participate in this time-honored activity.

2. Who knew that Roman numerals are still used extensively in Rome?!

3. I do not believe the citizens of Pompeii were individually responsible for the destruction of the Second Temple in Jerusalem, and the concept of guilt-by-association had already been realized.

Napoli

I did not get to eat pizza in Naples. But I did get to eat Neopolitan ice cream, so that was good. And we didn’t get mugged today. So that was good too.

Today we went to Naples on our way to Pompeii. It involved two trains and a hike up a large hill.

The hike was the easiest part. The old Pompeii was a fairly large port city that was obliterated when Vesuvius blew it’s top in 79 A.D. I’m pretty sure it was delayed retribution for the destruction of the Second Temple, but I didn’t see that mentioned anywhere in the literature. Still, it’s a good theory, right?

Everything is more or less as it was then, without the ash and without the roofs. The walls, floors, and ancient graffiti are all still there.

Actually, that’s one thing about Italy I do not understand. There is graffiti everywhere. From Rome down to Pompeii, it was one un-ending spray paint fest. People 2000 years ago etched theirs in rather than using spray paint, but evidently old habits die very, very hard, and in this case, not at all.

I also realized two other things that would have been helpful to have brought with me. One would be a basic phrase book of Italian words. The other would be a watch. Trains here run on time and being too early is annoying and being too late is just dumb, especially when you don’t have to be.

Even though we didn’t get to eat pizza in the birthplace of pizza, we did have excellent pizza today back in Rome. Tonight was thinly fried eggplant and mozzarella. The conversation at the shop went like this:

Me: I’ll have that piece
Pizza guy: Eggplant and mozzarella
Me: Yes, I’ll have that one
Pizza guy: Yes, eggplant and Mozzarella
Me: I want that piece
Pizza guy: cold or hot?
Me: hot
Pizza guy: hot?
Me: yes, hot.
Me: pointing to oven…
Me: mmmmmmm

Rome, Day 2

We took the trolley-bus to Vatican City this morning. We think the trolley-bus runs in the middle of the street and the regular buses run in the right lane. Other than that, there doesn’t seem to be a difference. No one seems to actually run their tickets through the validation machines on either one. Because we’d taken food from breakfast to snack on during the day and felt guilty, and because we were going to the Vatican and felt like we shouldn’t have “sinned” on the way there, we did validate our tickets.

The Vatican is very…Catholic. First we went to see St. Peter’s Baslica. My father told me that he’d been there during the war and if I mentioned his name, we would get bumped to the front of the line. Who knew?! He was right.

The basilica is beautiful and we also went down to see the crypts, including the one of the most recent pope, John Paul.

I have to say, Rick Steves is a genius. We have been using his walking tours since we got here and they are fantastic. Without them, we would really be at a loss and I think we all think we should be sending him a fruit basket. I think future vacations may only be to places where he has podcasts.

We waited in line for an hour to get into the Vatican Museum and the Sistine Chapel. The Sistine Chapel is the personal chapel of the Pope. Let me just say, he MUST have an easier way to get in than we did. There were thousands of people (at least), and the official route wound up and down little stair cases and in and out of narrow doorways. It was as if they knew that we would never go through the galleries on our own and wanted to make sure that we saw more of their collection.

Almost every painting had some kind of representation of Jesus. Or Mary. Or an apostle or saint. Which all makes sense, but after a while, it all looks the same to an untrained eye. Until you get to the Sistine Chapel.

It’s incredible. Michaelangelo was a genius.

For those keeping track, we have absolutely kept up our commitment to eat pizza and gelato. And we have been walking miles and miles.

When in Rome...

Go roaming.

I landed in Rome and learned a few things.

First, Italian flight attendants are evidently as concerned about passengers eating as Jewish mothers are about their children. Our flight took off at 5:15am. I can’t imagine that anyone had slept before the flight, and as soon as I boarded, I put on my eye mask, took the cotton ball that they put a cover on and call a pillow behind my head, unfurled a surprisingly soft blanket and tried to sleep. I couldn’t really sleep, but I was trying. Until 45 minutes later when the flight attendant poked me in the arm and woke me up to give me breakfast. Keep in mind that I was sitting in the window seat. And I’m pretty sure I have a bruise.

I landed and decided to take a bus to the main transit station in Rome. About five minutes out from the airport, the bus driver pulled to the side of the highway and started to yell at someone on the phone. I couldn’t tell if it was his mother, his girlfriend, or someone from the bus company. The next thing I know, everyone is sticking their hands up in the air checking to see if their air vents were open. I’m guessing it wasn’t his mother on the phone. A few minutes later we took off and I got an unnarrated tour of the city.

Rather than figure out where the bus stops were, where to buy a ticket and where to get off the bus, I decided to walk to our hotel. It was about a mile and at least kept me awake. At this point I should be honest and say – I packed too big a bag. I don’t think I could have packed in a carry-on suitcase, but my new duffel bag is just too big. It’s not full by any means, but it’s still too big.
The food pyramid doesn’t exist here – it’s just a few columns, mainly pizza and gelato. At least for the first day and a half, those have been our staples. I once was in Israel where our goal was a falafel a day. Here, our goal is pizza and gelato at least once a day, if not more.

Our expectation today was to visit the Coliseum and the Forum. We finished the Coliseum and then met a woman who gave us a map to a market she and her friend had visited in the morning. How we met her is another whole story. We went to the Forum, and then decided to walk to Campo de Fiore, where the market was. The market had very clearly closed for the day. But while we were walking around, we saw signs for a Leonardo Da Vinci exhibit that featured real, interactive machines built from his designs. It was a great exhibit that featured models of his flying machines, tanks, printing press, odometer and a lot of drawings.

And then we decided to walk to the Pantheon via the Piazza Navona. And then to the Trevi Fountain (we’d walked there and to the Spanish steps last night). It was a lot of walking. Mainly, I think Rome is full of statues and fountains and way too many tourists, us among them. After all of this, we made the wise decision to take a bus back to our hotel.

Two last thoughts:
1. I need a straw for my Nalgene. Mimi – I shouldn’t have given the straw back to you!
2. I need to remember to put sunscreen on the tops of my feet if I’m going to wear my Teva’s again.

Ben Gurion

There should be a rule that all airports have free wireless access.

Confirmation

It has been verified. There is nothing redeeming about being awake at 3:3oam. Of the 360 students with us, all but maybe 40 walked three miles to the Kotel this morning. I stayed at the hotel to offer support the those that didn't walk.

Shavuot may be considered a holiday that features dairy food, but not at the Shalom Hotel. No, at the Shalom Hotel, it's all meat, all the time. The most interesting food so far has been the peas, corn, carrots and tuna salad, which is neither dairy nor meat, but most importantly, edible.

Unfortunately, I will also be awake between midnight at at least 5am tomorrow morning as well, so if any further confirmation is needed about whether redemption can be found, I will have an answer.

Shavuot in Jerusalem

I am in Jerusalem for Shavuot, one of the three major holidays in Judaism. The last time I was here for Shavuot, I went to a concert with my family. This year, I'm "on the job" and there will be no concerts. That said, there will be a pilgrimage to the Western Wall, leaving at 3:30am.

Remember last week when I wrote that there was nothing good about being awake at 2:00am? I'm fairly certain that the same thing can be said about 3:30am.

Evidently, there is one very important item that all travelers need to bring on the pilgrimage (in addition to the first fruits of their harvest) and that is: sun glasses. Yes, you read correctly. When you walk to the Kotel in the dark, you don't think about the fact that the sun will be quite bright on your way back. But we've been told to think about it and bring sun glasses. Okay.

A few participants (and some staff) were disappointed to find out that we would not be also performing a ritual sacrifice on this holiday. I explained that it's too hard to find a perfect red heifer these days.

Another Day, Another Hotel

Hotel number two in Israel does have fitted sheets. And when I open the window and the drapes, I have a perfect view of the Calatrava pedestrian bridge. (It's not easy to create a new architectural landmark in a 2000 year old city.) But lest you think I have nothing to complain about, I do. The bathroom isn't small, but the layout is such that when you sit on the toilet, your knees are under counter that holds the sink. And the toilet paper roll is behind you.

I had lunch in the Mamilla mall today. Getting there was torturous. The traffic in Jerusalem is terrible, unless it's 4am and there's always construction. The mall has a huge parking lot - five levels underground and the size of a city block. It was all but totally full. The only way to find a spot was to stalk someone walking from the elevator. And this is the cleanest parking lot I've ever seen. The floors are spotless and some kind of shiny painted concrete. So that when you turn the corners, your tires squeak on the floor.

The mall itself is pretty fancy and there are all sorts of boutiques and American chains (like The Gap) and evidently enough people to shop in them to keep a five level parking garage full. And the first two hours of parking are free, so that alone makes it a great place to be.

My Pet Peeve

My regular readers know that my pet peeve here in Israel are sheets that are too short for the bed. And invariably, the shortness is exhibited at the head and not the foot of the bed. It's just gross. I will never understand why the standard size sheets can't fit the standard size mattresses. Can it be that hard?! Even the Shalom Hotel figured it out - it can't be that difficult.

My Day at the Mall

This morning, I went to Tzfat. I met our groups and then made my way to the studio of my friend, Morris Dahan. He wasn’t there, so I left my business card with a note. On my way up to the mall to get some work done, I stopped at Neot Mordechai, the kibbutz where Naot shoes are produced. I haven’t bought anything there in a few years, but it’s always good to stop and look. I walked in, and who did I see? My friend Morris! Because I didn’t see him at his studio, I actually saved a lot of money today.

I spent the rest of the day at the mall in Kiryat Shemona. As far as malls go, it's not much. There's a grocery store, a book store, a cafe, two falafel stands, a pizza counter, a Burger King, and a few other odd stores that don't seem to sell any particular kind of thematic items. But they have tables, chairs and electrical outlets, which makes it a great place to work.

Around noon, the Israeli kids came in to hang out. Then the soldiers came to buy snacks for the week. A little later a lot of senior citizens. They all got ice cream cones. Then came the Birthright buses. They all want shawarma and so they all wait in line at the same place. Later, the Arab kids come in. They look just like the Israeli kids. I wish the Birthright participants had seen them. It was so normal and a view of Arabs that most Americans will never see.

36 hours...

You know that volcano that erupted in Iceland? It's a great act of nature, probably beautiful under many circumstances, and generally things in Iceland don't actually impact my life very often.

That came to an end on Saturday night. My flight was delayed 7 hours and when we saw the map of the flight, it was clear that we took a big detour around something in the Atlantic. It was either volcanic ash, or the Bermuda triangle, and I’m pretty sure we weren’t quite that far south.

When I landed in Rome, I’d missed my connection and had a 6 hour wait before the next flight to Israel. I was lucky. There were travelers who couldn’t make their connections for days – either flights were full, or cancelled. I waited in line for two hours for a meal voucher. It’s not like I had anything else to do.

But of course first I had to figure out where I should be waiting. One would think the transit desk, where three different people had directed me. Alas, there was no one at the transit desk. Finally, someone suggested that I got to the other terminal. Again, with nothing but time, I figured, why not?

So I made my way to the other terminal, found the transit desk and found two different systems at work. One group of people was crowding around the agent in the corner, and one group was in line. I went with the line, which turned out to be smart because the agent in the corner left two minutes later, forcing the group of people to go to the back of the line. Which they weren’t very happy about. There were four people in front of me.

Two hours later, I got a meal voucher. I asked how much it was worth and was told that depending on how much I wanted to eat. Okay…. So I went to the food court and asked the cashier if they took the voucher, to which he replied no, that I had to go to the restaurant.

Wasn’t that where I was?! Evidently not.

I found the restaurant. It’s really a cafeteria with a chef. Dinner options included salmon risotto, a nice looking fish, meaty things, and some great looking salads. I opted for salad and when I asked about dressing, I was directed to a table around the corner. The table had a few large bottles of balsamic vinegar, olive oil and some other kind of liquid I couldn’t identify. That worked.

I finally made it to my gate and found that you can fly a lot of places from Rome at 10pm. You can go to Casablanca, Beirut, Tirana, and Damascus. All the flights were supposed to leave at the same time. You get on a little shuttle bus and they take you to the plane. I was hoping that the shuttle driver knew which planes were which. And that the pilots were taken to the correct planes. Not that I was worried. I’d love to go to some of those places….

Update on Crispy Carrot Patties

My overall assessment - not bad. I'll hang on to recipe with a note to add more dill next time. My preference was to eat them with horseradish sauce but Ronnie ate them plain. They weren't bad plain, I just thought they needed more oomph, you know? And there were enough that we each ate them for breakfast the entire week. I wonder what we'll have for breakfast next week....

Ice Cream

Three years ago, but maybe more, my friend Dennis gave me his ice cream maker on permanent loan. I moved it from DC to Milwaukee to Evanston without even opening the box.

This week, I decided to try making ice cream and opened the box. Yes, there was an ice cream maker in the box and no, there were no other surprises.

Making ice cream has never been on the short list of things I want to learn how to do in my life, but I like to experiment and this seemed like an opportunity.

I wanted just to see if I understood how the whole thing was going to work so I started with soy milk, since we have a lot of that in the house and added sugar and cocoa powder. It was okay. Nothing to write home about, but I now had enough confidence to try the real thing.

Last night, armed with whole milk, heavy whipping cream, sugar, unsweetened chocolate, eggs and vanilla, I made the base for real chocolate ice cream. I wasn't 100% sure what it was supposed to look like, but it looked like it would be pretty good.

This morning, after letting the mixture cool in the fridge over night, we poured it into the magic machine. Thirty minutes later - amazing chocolate ice cream. Very rich, and surprisingly excellent. In comparison, the first batch of ice cream - well, there is no comparison.

Tomorrow I'm going to try blueberry, or maybe a chocolate cinnamon. Thanks, Dennis!

Crispy Carrot Patties

Maybe 15 years ago, I made a binder of all sorts of recipes copied from books, magazines and the backs of the labels of canned goods. I don't remember whether it felt like a lot of work at the time or not. I do know that I was clearly not so industrious as to clip recipes from newspapers. If there were a few things that looked interesting, the whole section got stuck in the back of the binder. I've continued to put things in the binder over the last 15 years, but not so much.

Yesterday, I decided to go through the binder. Somethings still look interesting, and some, I can't believe I ever copied the first time, much less kept for 15 years.

I found a recipe for Crispy Carrot Patties. Even the name doesn't sound so appealing. But I happen to have a lot of carrots in the refrigerator, so I read on. It also called for two cups of cooked brown rice - exactly what I have left from last week's pot of brown rice. And it called for two cups of garbanzo beans. Now things are seeming strange. I have exactly two cups of garbanzo beans left from the huge can I opened on Friday. The author considered the recipe "rich" because it includes 1/3 cup of tahini. It so happens that I have tahini in the house.

I found a big bowl and dumped in the carrots (grated), onions and celery (sauteed), matza meal (gotta use that up!), tahini, soymilk, garbanzos (smashed), dill (fresh) and a few eggs. What I now have is a huge pile of pre-cooked Crispy Carrot Pattie mix. Really, a huge pile.

For the life of me, I cannot understand how, given how much I have, 1/3 of a cup of tahini, incorporated through the whole thing, can be considered rich.

They're in the oven now. Even if they're good, I'm not sure what we'll do with 22 of them. And a small baking dish full. Like I said, it was a really big pile.

Not quite the Princess or the Pea

The next day, after the whole "tripping over a toothpick" incident, my father's hearing aid evidently fell out of his ear but he didn't notice. It's like the Princess and the Pea in reverse. Only not quite.

Things Heard in St. Louis

"I just tripped on a toothpick!" Evidently my mother has a very well-developed sense of balance. We all knew which character she would identify with in the Princess and the Pea, but that gave us no guidance as to her balance. Now we know.

"You wouldn't like your picture taken (pause) on a trapeze." If you knew the characters, this would be funny. I'm not sure when the last time anyone in our family was on a trapeze. Probably never. There's a reason for that...

Charoset Truffles

I'm not sure how who originally sent me this recipe, but it's destined to be a classic. I did learn this year that date paste makes it a much, much easier recipe than dealing with actual dates. And rather than just rolling them in sugar, I rolled them in cinnamon sugar, which just gave them a little more flavor.

This year, I tried to travel with them. Note to self - not a good idea to put them in a plastic baggie. They really need a container that won't allow them to be smushed. They still taste good, but they don't look very pretty....

I also made chocolate-covered things. Everyone kept asking me what they are called, and didn't believe that I really do call them "chocolate-covered things." Melt a bag of chocolate chips (it doesn't matter if they are milk or bittersweet chocolate), add a handful of mini marshmallows, a handful of dried fruit (I like raisins and/or cherries), a handful of nuts (I used almonds in one batch and walnuts in another), and a handful of something crunchy (I used farfel, but I think they would be really, really good with broken pretzels). And then just dump it on to wax paper, or spoon into paper dessert cups. 10 minutes - dessert done.

There's Cholent on the Counter

My roommate is an observant Jew. A very observant Jew - she notices everything. It's part of her tradition to eat cholent every Shabbat. It's a mix of meat, beans, potatoes, onions, garlic and usually barley, but not for her (health related, not another obscure family tradition).

So even though we're in Chalmette, Louisiana, there must be cholent on Shabbat. I called home and said to Ronnie, "There's a cholent on the counter." He asked if that was a code for something. I told him it was a code for there being cholent on the counter.

A few hours after everything was dumped into the pot, you would never have known that our room usually smells like mold and smoke. I'm not a meat eater, and it didn't look appealing, but the smell was great. And it shut out the otherwise gross conditions. I am now a fan of cholent.

Over Packing

I seriously overpacked here. And this is after three or four years of taking less and less each year. I forget that it's easiest just to wear the same clothes every day, or at least a few days in a row.

Last night, my roommate and I were working in the "washeteria" and I was getting tired and started shutting my computer down so I could go back and go to sleep. And then she mentioned that she thought she should take a shower. I had planned to take a shower last night but by the time I was so tired, I really couldn't consider showering before I went to bed. She looked at me and asked, "have I showered since you've been here?"

To be honest, I really hadn't been paying any attention to her showering habits, but as I thought about it, I replied, "I don't think so." Keep in mind that I arrived on Saturday night and today is Thursday. And then I had to think about the last time I had showered. That had been Sunday night.

Eww. And yet, I was still too tired. Here's the thing - because the motel is so gross, the idea and process of showering are far more involved than other, more highly rated establishments.

First - there's not really a place to put your towel. And there's not really enough room to lay out a bath mat. And you don't want to put anything, even dirty clothes on the floor. And while I didn't think I would do this, it somehow makes sense to wear flip flops in the shower because even with a bathmat, you don't want to step directly on the floor with bare feet. Or even in socks (which you wouldn't be wearing in the shower, of course).

And then there's no where to put your wet towel. And there are dead bugs on almost everything so really, it's just not an environment that inspires showering....

The Greatest Place for Wireless in Chalmette

I'm sitting in McDonald's. I don't really frequent fast food places very often, so the fact that I've been sitting here for a few hours is a little strange for me. The bathrooms are clean, they have free refills on soda and it smells like french fries. That beats the hotel lobby/laundry room and their combination odor of mold and smoke. The only catch is that there is only one outlet, under a very large television whose volume seems to be set very, very high. Did I mention that it smells like french fries?

There's an older, possibly slightly disturbed couple that just sat down in the next booth. The man threw a piece of lettuce across the room and the woman gave their large fries to someone sitting at another table.

Other than that, it's the perfect place to work.

More on New Orleans

Sometimes I think New Orleans is like Jerusalem. I can find my way around more or less, but I don’t really know the names of any of the streets. And they aren’t organized in any way that I can figure out, except the cross streets in the French Quarter which seem to be alphabetical. I can get from one side of town to another, but not necessarily efficiently, which I suppose doesn’t generally matter too much.

Today I was at a work site and looked at the houses across the street. One was a shot-gun house, the next was a double shot-gun, and the third was a two story house that looked like two doubles and a pitched roof. The third house looked as if it was leaning forward toward the street. The second was leaning toward the first, and it was obvious from my vantage point that the front of the first house and the back of the first house were both tilted in different directions. It’s as if Dr. Seuss did the city re-construction.

And it certainly looks like Dr. Seuss color choices. Flamingo pink houses next to a sherbet orange house with yellow and purple trip, and an all purple house with red and blue trip.

What I can’t figure out here are the streets. They are some of the worst roads I’ve ever had to drive on. Some of it is construction related, and much more just looks like the streets haven’t been fully repaved for decades. The parts that have been repaved or filled in haven’t been done evenly. I can’t imagine what’s it’s doing the shocks on my rental car. It’s a brand new car but has probably aged a lot in just the few days I’ve been driving.

Parkway Bakery & Tavern

Yesterday, rather than eating an egg salad sandwich that had been sitting in my car for the whole, very warm morning, I went out for lunch. Someone from our DC office had just arrived in town to see our program for a few days and I figured it was a good opportunity to avoid food poisoning.

Late morning, I'd been working in a coffeeshop and I'd asked the woman behind the counter for a lunch recommendation. She gave me a name of a sandwich shop and said they had a good Caprese sandwich.

So we made our way to the Parkway Bakery & Tavern. Wouldn't you know it, they were filming a special for the Travel Channel that day. The places was packed - business men, soldiers in fatigues and construction workers. None of them looked like they cared much for the cameras and lights.

We looked at the menu and there were three vegetarian options - the Caprese Po'boy, a Grilled Cheese and french fries. Honestly, it was a little embarrassing that at such a well-known place, we ordered the least authentic things on the menu. The waitress laughed when I ordered my sandwich and I laughed when she asked if I wanted chicken on it.

Embarrassing or not, my sandwich was excellent and the grilled cheese looked pretty good too.

The Lower Ninth

After all this time, there are blocks where you would think the hurricanes were last month, not more than four years ago. Houses that you can't believe are still standing, spray-painted 'x's still on the doors. And still, there are people moving back to the neighborhoods. Fresh paint, in all colors of the rainbow, say that the neighborhoods are coming back.

The Difference a Year Makes

The first thing I noticed driving through Chalmette, La last night was that there were a lot of cars on the road. Last year, you were lucky to see another pair of headlights during the long trip out to camp.

We aren't staying nearly as far out as last year, but it's clear that there are more people and businesses in this area. I think there must be a law that requires at least one Dollar Store per square mile. They are everywhere! And there are a lot more bars and taverns open.

There's also a new Wal-mart that looks like it must have just opened, a dozen fast-food places, and also some new branch banks. To be sure, there are still store fronts that are shuttered and have been for more than four years already. But the street lights are working, new businesses, and people on the road.

We're staying at a motel. It might be generous to give it a 1/2 star. Really. And that 1/2 star would only be for the wireless access in the lobby.

It's easy to say that I would prefer to be back in the storage room behind the school office we stayed in last year, or the 12 to a bunk with one bathroom cabin we had the year before. There are bugs everywhere. There are flying things that are bigger than gnats but smaller than mosquitos. They don't bite, but they seem to be everywhere and particularly seem to like our bathroom sink/counter area.

Before I arrived, my roommate told me that she didn't want her feet to touch the carpet. I said, "but it's a motel!" She said, "uh-huh." She's right. The carpeting is gross. Evidently they don't really vaccuum. The walls are covered in spots where previous guests tried to kill big bugs. We know this because in less than 12 hours I have already witnessed the creation of two more spots on the wall. The bugs that left those marks were huge. Not medium-size, not big, not even large. Huge. We've decided that they are waterbugs and not roaches. It's possible that those are two names for the same kind of creature.

I am a Triathlete

Or so my new t-shirt says. I signed up for the Lazy Man Triathlon at our local YMCA. We were given six weeks to complete a full marathon (26.2 miles walking or running), a 2.5 mile swim, and 112 miles of bike-riding. Six weeks is a lot of time, right?

Wrong.

I learned a few things from this experience:

• Real triathletes - those people who do this in a day - are crazy. Where do they need to go that they have to bike, swim and run that far in one day? Ridiculous. I know people who do triathlons. I really have to re-think how and why we're friends. They're crazy. The most recent DSM has a whole category just for them. Now don't get me wrong. I like watching television coverage of the Ironman competition in Hawaii (the 'real' one) as much as the next person. What these people do is unbelievable. And the ones who really struggle are the ones who are probably the first to sign up again for next year.
• It would be faster to finish the marathon if I believed in running. I don't. If there's a fire, or someone chasing me, then maybe. Otherwise, it's against my religion.
• Swimming takes a lot longer when you do some laps using a kickboard. To my Y's credit, they have a regular pool and a warm pool. The warm pool is really nice.
• I found that I can't bike and read at the same time. I'm generally good at multi-tasking, but evidently not with these two activities.

The man who gave me my t-shirt looked at me as if he couldn't believe I had finished. But he kept a straight face nevertheless and said, "Congratulations. Thanks for participating."

And yes, I can't wait to sign up in 11 months for the next one. It's all about the t-shirt.

I'm getting to that age...

where I buy travel insurance.

Shopping for Passover

It's that time again. It doesn't usually happen until after Purim, but once it does, it's here in full swing. That's right - Passover aisles. Rows and rows, and, just to be safe, rows of things made just for Passover.

There is a short aisle just for matza in all different sizes, types and flavors. There is another short aisle just for cleaning products. I never understood the difference between regular and Passover cleaning products and I still don't.

And then there's the actual food. It looks like you can get almost anything you want "kosher for Passover" except actual bread. And I suspect that someone is experimenting with that for the near future. There are cereals, noodles, a million sauces, jams, spices, and even small tv dinners. And in the freezer section, there's a whole huge freezer that just has gefilte fish (on sale) and on the other side, there's kosher for passover pizza.

I finished my Passover shopping a few weeks ago with one small bag of "stuff", mainly small canisters of matza meal, farfel, and some sauces I'll use on fish. There's not much else that we usually eat that we can't eat on Passover - so all those things on the shelves are nice to look at, but I would never buy them. And I bought Temptee cream cheese - three containers. I'm not sure why, but we only see it at Passover and I'm not sure why, but it's the best cream cheese year round.

I was out with a friend on Saturday and we stopped by the "kosher" grocery store. It's a regular chain grocery with a kosher deli counter, a kosher Chinese take-out place and a lot of kosher food, but all wrapped up in the rest of the store.

You might think that with all of these amenities, the primary Jewish shoppers are are the population of more observant Jews who live just South of the store. You may be right, but I found the rest of them. Yup - shopping on Shabbat. Carts full of matza, fruit rings, gefilte fish, ko-jel, and cut-up Aaron's chicken.

And, get this - the chicken was the "Kosher Saturday Special". I took a picture but I don't know how to upload it - you'll have to just trust me. I'm not sure who they expected to see the signs, but clearly all of these folks did. And yes, this is the same store that brought us the "Kosher Rosh Special" back in September.

Brussel Sprouts

I've never liked brussel sprouts. I know people who love them and honestly, I think they (the people, not the vegetable) are sort of weird. Sorry. I just do.

But a few weeks ago, they were on sale at the produce market and I had this idea that I should buy them and roast them. I'm not really sure what possessed me. They sat in the refrigerator for almost two weeks. I hate wasting food, but I figured maybe $1.50 was the cost of having an idea.

Sunday morning I was at the produce market and stocked up. I'm not really sure what I was thinking. So Sunday night, I decided to roast a lot of vegetables. Asparagus, potatoes, sweet potatoes, mushrooms, broccoli, red peppers, carrots, eggplant, and yes, finally, the brussel sprouts. I might even be missing a vegetable or two from this list.

Everything (separately) got tossed with a little olive oil, salt and pepper, except the chickpeas (which I forgot to mention) which had curry powder and the sweet potatoes that had the very last of my Old Bay. And I might as well say it now - Old Bay is the greatest spice ever.

Shockingly, the brussel sprouts were excellent. They are not my new favorite food - let's be clear. But they were really good. And everything else was pretty good too. Not that there was any reason to assume they wouldn't be, but you never know. The only thing that wasn't great were the carrots. They just never got sweet. They aren't bad, but definitely not the best.

The worst part about roasting - you can't get everything in the oven at the same time. I don't have that many oven racks (or that many baking sheets, for that matter) so the oven has to stay on, and at a high temperature for a long time.

The best part about roasting - getting someone else to do the chopping. And then eating, of course.

Slowly but Surely...

For four weeks, maybe more, a big box was sitting in our hall, just inside the front door. It was about five feet long by 15 inches wide and it wasn't leaning against the wall in a way that wouldn't take up much space. No, it was lying in all of it's five foot glory along the hall.

Inside was an Ikea bookcase that we planned to turn on its side and use as a a hall table. Somehow, it seemed that making my way through Ikea, getting the package into the car and getting it upstairs should have been enough. The thing is heavy! The fact that it also had to be put together was a step that just needed to come in its own time.

That time was yesterday afternoon. Nine pieces of wood, a million little wooden dowels, and 8 or 10 big metal screws. Oh yeah, and a little wrench, or whatever they call those little tools that are required to build anything from Ikea.

It took about 45 minutes. The instructions tell you not to try to build it alone. Of course, when I started building, I ignored that completely. Until I got to step three. Because while it wasn't heavy, the process definitely required a second person. To hold things steady, to get more wooden dowels,, to catch the screw that rolls down the floor...

Ronnie served as the sous constructer, prepping dowels in the right pieces and finding a suitable substitute for a mallet, which we have, somewhere. It turns out, that a 10-pound hand weight does a very good job. And he held things steady, caught the rolling screws*, and ultimately helped me stand it up - which admittedly, would have been hard to do by myself.

*note to Uncle Jake, who otherwise will surely comment. While it's true that screws generally roll in a weird circle because the one end is wider than the other, if they are also pushed, ever so slightly, (or accidently kicked) then they go farther.

In the end, it would be better if the table was 12 inches wide rather than 15, but it will do. And it needs something, like a table runner or something, to cover it, because while I like the light wood color, it doesn't look good against the light wall. Maybe in another month....

Sam's Club on a Thursday afternoon

I don't belong to Sam's Club, but I happened to be there last Thursday afternoon. My general impression is that it's like Costco, but not quite. I like Costco better.

Nevertheless, there I was, 3pm on a Thursday afternoon, walking through Sam's Club. I noticed a few things. First, you can't get chocolate yogurt at the little food stand at Sam's Club. That's not a primary reason to like or dislike a store, but if you were ever wondering, Costco has chocolate yogurt.

There were no samples. None. Nothing. Nada. Maybe they save the sampling for the weekend, I have no idea. I'm pretty sure that it should be rule number one at a store like this - have something to sample. Even if it was something I couldn't (or wouldn't) eat - there should be some reason to be there in the middle of the week rather than everyone bunching up together on the weekend, right?

Other than me, it seemed the everyone else there was either an immigrant from the Former Soviet Union, or an observant Jew. How do I know who they were? Well, they either had long skirts and sheitls (wigs) on, black velvet kippot (yarmulkes) and/or they were speaking Russian. And yes, I know some of you are sticklers out there, it is possible that they were also some combination of the two.

To be fair, there were a few people of color at the store who I believe I can safely assume were probably not observant Jews (based on the rotisserie chicken or other non-kosher meat in their carts) and not immigrants from Eastern Europe (based on the lack of accent).

Everyone, regardless of color, accent or religion seemed to need large quantities of paper towels. I thought maybe they were giving them away though I saw no evidence of this. Second to paper towels seemed to be toilet paper. Had I seen adding machine or cash register paper, I would have assumed that it all had something to do with rolled paper, but the commonalities seemed to end with the toilet paper.

I did learn one interesting thing that afternoon. It turns out that anyone can walk in and buy a fresh cheese pizza from their food stand without being an actual member. It was ridiculously inexpensive and meant that I didn't have to cook that night. And it turned out to be a pretty good pizza.

I'll always like Costco better and I doubt I'll ever be a member of Sam's Club, but it's good to know that I can always go ther for the important things.

Cord Intervention Needed

I have too many cords in my life.

As I look around my office, I see chargers for my laptop, ipod and cell phone. And for my laptop, I've also got a webcam, mouse and headset. I have two earbuds for my cell phone in addition to a bluetooth device (and it's charger!). We also have a digital camera which has a charger and a cord to connect it to the computer.

And forget that there are cable wires coming out of the walls in different places, and extension cords between outlets and lamps.

It's too much. Everytime I take my laptop to a coffeeshop, it requires a tremendous packing and subsequent untangling. And everytime I set things back up at home, it starts all over.

I feel like I'm on the Matrix, only without the cool green streaming numbers background.

Amba

stains.

A week without blogging is like...

It's been raining all week, what can I say. No sunshine, no blogging. That, and I've been busy. Not so busy that I haven't seen completely random things that I try to remember and then forget, but busy enough.

The good news: I found amba. And evidently, it's not nearly as hard to find as I thought it was. Of course, now I need another eggplant.

The other good news: Pictures are now hung, include a stunning new painting by Morris Dahan. This time, it's an original, not even a seriograph.

The bad news that goes along with the other good news: we still have too much stuff and have a lot to do.

The other good news that goes along with the bad news that goes along with the other good news: if we never move again (the deal I made with Ronnie), it doesn't really matter how long this all takes. Except that I want it done already.

Just When You Thought It Was Safe To Blog

My laptop, power cord and netstick (kind of a portable wireless network) were stolen last night. Out of what I thought was a locked car. The good news is that there were no broken windows, and nothing else stolen. My purse (and wallet) had been locked in the trunk but if the car was open, essentially the trunk was too. My passport and the few random $20 bills that are stuck in my backpack hadn't been taken, nor was my cell phone charger or World of Puzzles magazine. The creepiest part is that the computer, power cord and netstick were in three separate sections of my backpack.

And for the thieves, I feel sorry for them. The battery is living on borrowed time and I have a great password - they've essentially stolen something only useful as a doorstop. Of course, it was so much more than a doorstop to me.... And all of this means that there will likely be no more blogging until next week when I am safely back in the snow-ridden Midwest. Oh well.

What I Ordered

I don't think it's strange to order water, Diet Coke and coffee. I haven't yet gotten the water, so at least there's no chance of anything tasting watered down.

Waiting for Natan Sharansky

Last week at I went to dinner with a colleague to Tal Bagels. We sat at the only table available, which wasn't really where we wanted to sit, but since we were hungry, we weren't going to wait for anything better. Three minutes later, Natan Sharansky got up from the table two over from us (which was where we wanted to sit) and left. We took his table, dirty dishes and all.

Someone asked me if I kept one of his napkins as a souvenir. Let me just say here, I did not.

So today, I am back at Tal Bagels on a Sharansky Watch. If he doesn't show up in the next hour, I'm out of here. Wish me luck.

To Cab or Not to Cab....

I was in the Old City today for the first time in years. Afterwards, I had a meeting and then had to get back to my hotel. Knowing better than to drive to the Old City (I took one of our buses here), I needed to get a cab back.

I saw one cab, but the driver wasn't taking new passengers. So I walked up the street a bit and saw two cabs. One fo the drivers said he could take me, but his was the cab that had a water bottle filling something in the engine. He pulled it out, closed the hood, closed the trunk (which was being propped open for something) and I got in. It was then that I noticed that the window was being kept from falling down by a screwdriver stuck in between the pane and the frame.

It did not inspire confidence.

The driver didn't want to use the meter and wanted to charge me 60 shekels to get back to my hotel. I told him that was too much and he offered 55 shekels. I told him I needed a receipt and that I would consider 50 shekels. He said yes but no receipt (since it wasn't going to be on the meter). So I got out.

The next cab stopped and agreed to take me for 45 shekels and a receipt. It was still cheaper than parking....

The Straw that was Used 'round the World

Yes, Mimi's straw made it to Israel in my Nalgene. Right now, the bottle is sitting in my backpack with an entire sliced lemon in it (possibly from last week) and about two cups of water and the straw. The gross part is that I really do think the lemon is a week old.

Evidently, Starbuck's straws hold up quite well to international travel. I saw no signs of deterioration, loss of functionality or jet lag. And, it has been saved, at least until now, from a new home in a comfy landfill.

Thanks again, Mimi!

Me? Obsessed?

I took down the very blurry picture I finally managed to take of the fabric mentioned in my last post. Sorry.

More on the Nigerians...

I'm back at the Shalom Hotel for an 8 day sojourn. I'm on the 16th floor. I've got a great view and were it not for the 10 minutes (minimum) that it takes to get up there, it's totally fine. No, I'm not walking up 16 flights -the elevators are so slow you would think that they are running on solar power available only on a cloudy day.

And the elevators are tiny, which means that they can hold six people max, and maybe 8 if two of them are children. If anyone has a suitcase or large backpack, assume five or less. But given the size of the hotel, cramming people on to one of the three small elevators is almost an Olympic sport.

Which is an unfortunate problem when there are also other hotel guests with serious body odor on the elevator. I just can't hold my breath that long. There. I said it. I know it's not a nice thing to say, but as my mother will attest, it is not the worst, by a long shot.

I have a few theories as to the persistence of the aroma.

• 1. This is the smell of their home..
• 2. This is the smell of Israel and they are reluctant to wash off the holiness.
• 3. They are not accustomed to regular bathing.
• 4. They are bathing regularly but do not have access to clean clothes.

And evidently I am staring at theses particular guests too much. I was in the dining room last night with two colleagues and had to be told repeatedly to stop being distracted (by my boss, no less!). I can't help it. As a community, they are all dressed in the same fabric. In this case, it was a bright purple and green fabric that had big pictures of Jesus on it at (what looked like) 10 inch intervals. I saw this fabric used for tunic, pants, shirts, dresses, skirts and head wraps. Poor Jesus! Given that I was being admonished for staring, I was unable to also take pictures.

Eggplant, Pickles, and Eggs - Oh My!

As I type, I'm eating a sandwich that includes chopped flat leaf parsley, hard boiled egg (sliced, not whole), roasted eggplant (also sliced, not whole), and pickles. There's also an indeterminite spread between the bread and the eggplant. It's not taking away from the rest of the sandwich, but since I can't tell much about it, I also can't tell whether it's adding anything.

It's not a combination that I would have ever thought to put together which proves there are clearly greater minds than mine inventing sandwich combinations!

On another front, I was smart this trip and brought a travel coffee mug with me. It doesn't fit under the dining hall coffee dispensers, but in case you're wondering, I can fill it with three small coffees.

Other Things about Where I Am

I've only gotten lost twice. Three times if you count missing the same place a 2nd time. The first time I was in the wrong lane in Jerusalem and just couldn't get over in time to go straight. I had to turn left instead. You can't actually get too lost in Jerusalem, and I figured as long as I stayed on streets large enough for a bus, I'd be ok. And then, lo and behold, I found myself exactly where I needed to be. I'm still not quite sure how, but it usually works out.

The other time was finding this lovely hotel formerly known as ETAP. With only the word "Hotel" on the outside, I passed it once on the way north, and then again looking for it heading back south. Obviously I found it eventually.

Yesterday I drove north on the Bik'a. It's one of my favorite roads. Except that it was raining, which meant that I had to drive a bit slower than I generally like. And I don't have a working radio in the car. That's actually not true. The radio works but there is no antenna. Which generally doesn't matter anyway on the Bik'a, but it was just me, myself and I on the drive up.

The drive was made a bit more interesting by seeing a dead cow on the side of the road. You might ask why I think he (or she, I didn't actually get that close) was dead. I've just never seen a cow lie down with it's legs in the air, so I figured it was safe to assume that an uncomfortable position like that wasn't going to be used by a live cow. I also saw two (live) horses on the side of the road. There were no people nearby that I could tell and they weren't fenced in. I did not see any wild boar.

The Hotel formerly known as ETAP

Last night and tonight I'm staying at a hotel called "Savyonei HaGalil". If you've never heard of it, don't worry. Nobody has. It's a non-descript building on the side of the road with a big sign on the side that simply says "Hotel". Which is why I drove by it. Twice.

What it would have been helpful to know is that this is the former ETAP Hotel. I'd never been to ETAP, but it was a noted landmark on the drive up North. Plus, it's a weird name so we all knew it.

The hotel formerly known as ETAP is interesting. There's a decent lobby, but the restaurant is two doors down in the strip mall. The rooms have a bed and a small dresser, but no chair. And the dresser is actually two small drawers with a refrigerator underneath. So maybe calling it a dresser isn't quite accurate.... And there are two wardrobes, one with a mirror on the door that is stuck in a corner between the wall and the small dresser so that you can't actually use the mirror or open the wardrobe door, and another that is between the side of the bed and the wall but has doors so wide that you can't actually open them fully or they hit the side of the bed. Not that I need to hang anything up.

I'm pretty sure that the soap dispenser in the shower is filled with water and a few drops of detergent - like what you'd blow bubbles with if you had a small plastic bottle and a wand. I didn't bring a wand or a small plastic bottle. I did not forget soap.

The biggest problem isn't the lack of actual soap in the shower, so little counterspace around the sink that there's nowhere for even my toothbrush or even that there's no elevator. It's not even that the only coffee they put out this morning was instant and decaf. It's the bed.

There are two pillows on the bed. Both have been stuffed with fluff. Lumpy fluff. I'm sure the manager of the hotel formerly known as ETAP has never slept at the hotel. Or if he did, he did not use their pillows. It's like sleeping on a really big bag of (defrosted) frozen peas. And, there is no fitted sheet. Again, this wouldn't be a problem if the sheet was large enough to actually cover the mattress. But it's not. And the space they did not cover is at the head of the bed, not the foot where I might not have even noticed. (Let's be honest, I would have noticed.)

The Nigerians are Back!

I checked into the Shalom Hotel yesterday afternoon and noticed that I had arrived in the middle of high-Nigerian season. There were people everywhere in matching clothes, although this time there appeared to be three different fabrics used (not all at once!). One was a red and white pattern, one is a blue and white pattern, and another seems to be a patternless light green. I'm not sure if they split the group on to their respective buses based on pattern or not, but it would certainly make knowing who is and is not in the group much easier in a crowded plaza.

This morning, I had a staff meeting at 7:45am. I was up early and figured I go to breakfast early and then be able to take notes at breakfast while everyone else ate. I was wrong. Why? Because I got there right as the Nigerians were also entering the dining hall. Needless to say, it was obvious that I wasn't with their group, and not just because I was wearing a non-patterned shirt and pants.

I should have known I would get there at a busy time. I stayed on the 15th floor. There are only 16 in the building. When I got on the elevator, there was a tall, older man in a light green robe and pants and matching hat (like a fez without the tassel). When we got to the third floor (dining room), he said, "Thank Gd!". I'm not sure how many days they were staying at the Shalom Hotel, but I think he still didn't believe that the doors would always open when they were supposed to or that he'd arrive on the floor he'd pressed the button for.

There is good news about the Shalom Hotel, and I really never expected to see this change in my lifetime. My bed had a fitted sheet on it. In all the years and nights I've stayed at this hotel, they have NEVER had a fitted sheet on the bed, much less a sheet that actually covered the whole mattress. It made sleeping there just that much scarier. I should add that I'm staying there for 8 nights next week and this was one particular thing I was already prepared to be annoyed by. There is a new manager, and maybe he tried sleeping there one night? I don't know, I don't care.

Holiday Food

I like holiday foods. I usually like them enough to think we should eat them year-round.

Like apples and honey. Why don't we eat that combination more often? It's tasty, relatively healthy, and easy. But we tend not to eat them until Rosh HaShanah begins and we don't really think about eating them after Sukkot ends. I just don't understand why.

Or latkes. Who doesn't love fried potatoes? I know it's not the healthiest thing in the world, but would it kill us to have latkes a few more times a year?

I think most people would agree that fried matza (or matza brie) is also something they enjoy and would eat more often. I think the problem there is that most people don't have matza in the house save for the seven or eight days of Passover.

Now I have to admit, as much as I love a good hamentasch, I don't need to eat them year-round. Sufganiyot (jelly donuts) fall into the same category. Having an excuse to eat them once a year is great, but they aren't a culinary necessity.

I also feel this way about Thanksgiving foods. Yes, in combination all on the fourth Thursday in November is traditional, but I'm not sure why we don't have stuffing, cranberry sauce, sweet potatoes (with or without marshmallows) or green bean casserole (with fried onions) at other times also. They're good, so why not enjoy them more often?

Mainly, I think there's something programmed in our brains that just doesn't allow us to even consider these foods at other times. I have apples in the house now, in fact I bought them today. But it wouldn't occur to me to drizzle honey on them. Why would I? Rosh HaShanah is over!

Bad Read

Last night I finished The Cheater, by Nancy Taylor Rosenberg. Don't read it. Or, if you do, don't bother with the last chapter. It's like she had an got tired of writing and just decided to end the book. And it's not like she set it up for a sequel that anyone will care about, she just left a lot of loose ends.

I felt the same way about the end of The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown. Really, he thinks that is an appropriate way to end a book a reader has just invested hours in?! For the record, it's not.

I finished a James Patterson book earlier in the week. He writes chapters that are maybe 8 paragraphs long. Maybe. But at least he ends his books in a way that ties up loose ends and doesn't make it seem like he finished writing in order to get to a dentist's appointment. (And in case Rachel is reading, I know. I know.)

For Uncle Jake

I spoke with my uncle last weekend and he chastised me for not blogging more. No one else has wondered what happened, and if they had, maybe their name would be in the subject line here.


The problem, is that nothing happened. I mean, interesting things happen all the time, but if I'm not updating my Facebook status about them, I'm sure not going to blog about them. And, for those of you who are my friends on Facebook, you know I never update my status.


So what are the things I haven't written about?


I was at the General Assembly last week. No, not of the United Nations, but of the Jewish Federations of North America. That used to be called the United Jewish Communities, but sometime in the last weeks they changed their name. Again. A few years back they were the United Jewish Appeal. Evidently they didn't think that name was appealing enough.


The GA (pronounced 'ga', probably only by me) is an annual conference of 3000+ Federation professionals, lay leaders, other Jewish organizational representatives. All told, it's a lot of Jews in one place and fairly overwhelming. That said, you can see everyone you know all in once place over the course of three days. It saves a lot on your phone bill.

It's also a magnet for heads of State(s). Netanyahu spoke on Monday and Obama was supposed to speak on Tuesday. He cancelled, which was a relief to me, mainly because the 8:00am session I was part of was then moved to the much more civilized time of 9:30am. Had my session been at 8:00am, I would have had no notes and extemporaneous speaking is not my forte.

The organizational shuk is always a good place to see people I know from other organizations. It's also a great place to pick up new pens. This year, I think there were only three places giving out pens - a sure sign the economy has effected non-profits. There was one group giving out back-scratchers, which was just weird.

On a completely different note, I still have Mimi's straw in my Nalgene and haven't been struck down by lightening or the flu yet, so I guess it wasn't a horrible idea after all.

The Lobsterman

I shared a cab this week with a couple. For the life of me, I could not figure out what their accent was. I figured Scandinavia. I was wrong. They were from from Pubnico, Nova Scotia, a small fishing village of 1800 people where the main industry (the only one maybe from the way it sounded) is fishing. This man and his wife (or maybe his girlfriend) owns one of the 120 boats allowed to bring in lobsters and in the off-season, he and Sheila (the wife or maybe girlfriend) are actors in the living historical village.

Pubnico is an Acadian village and evidently square one for any Acadian who wants to do genealogical research. The fisherman can trace his family back 11 generations - back to 1651 when the first of his ancestors came to Pubnico from France. I also learned that the French spoken by Acadians in Nova Scotia is more simliar to the French spoken by the Acadians in Lousiana than it is to the French spoken in Montreal or France. That was surprising, especially after all of this time since their expulsion from Acadia.

I asked if, given his profession, if he still enjoyed eating fish. From their enthusiastic answer, I'm pretty sure that's all they eat. He only fishes for lobster, but evidently some of the other crews also go out for the "fin fish" like haddock and herring. And, for anyone wondering, the lobster season opens the last Monday in November. And it's an expensive business to get into. There are only 120 boat licenses (similar to cab medallions), but when one becomes available, these days the cost is between six and seven hundred thousand dollars. And that's down from one point two million a few years ago.

The season is split into two halves, separated by the time when the water chills too much for the lobsters (maybe between January and March, but I can't exactly remember). And in the spring half of the season, they have to throw back 90% of their catch because they are either too small, females with eggs or other reasons that they probably told me but I didn't understand.

Their town has no four lane roads, they leave their keys in the car ignition, and they never lock their house because they're not sure what happened to the keys. DC is a relatively small city and they were still fairly overwhelmed. Which is understandable given that we were in rush hour traffic on the beltway.

One of the things this guy told me was that he'd been to Peoria, Illinois. I couldn't imagine how that might have come about, so I asked him. It turns out he'd purchased a $65,000 engine from Catepillar and either he'd won a trip to see the factory or that's part of what you get when you buy a big expensive engine. He thought the plant was interesting, and that the steak in Central Illinois tasted what steak should taste like, similar to what lobster tastes like straight off the boat. Given that I'm a kosher fish-eating vegetarian, I could only imagine that it's the same as eating tomatoes that you've grown in your garden. But probably not.

I think before this cab ride, the only thing I may have known about the lobster industry was a few minutes on Dirty Jobs. And then today, in the New York Times, an article about the Nova Scotia, haddock and the great expulsion.

To Rip or Not to Rip. That is the Question.

Would you rip a page out of a phone book?

To the best of my ability, I will change irrelevant facts to present this situation as anonymously as possible. I will disclose that the other party in this story is female, as trying to write it in a gender-neutral manner is too difficult.

Recently, I was with someone who asked a receptionist for a phone book. This person took the book to a seating area to peruse the listings. Several minutes later, I approached wanting to use that same book.

I noticed that she hadn't written anything down and so I asked if she had found what she was looking for. The response was a nod in the affirmative. Puzzled, I thought for a moment and then asked if they had ripped the page out of the book. The answer, again, was a nod in the affirmative.

I asked where the page was, and then immediately noticed that there was a crumpled up tissue in her hand. I (perhaps strongly) expressed my disapproval and noted that even she knew it was not the correct thing to do since she also made an effort to not only fold the pages into a tiny square, but she also hid her handiwork in a tissue (presumably unused).

She defended her behavior. The book, she said, was from 2006. She added that most people use the internet to find information, anyway. I replied that if this site had a more recent phone book, they certainly would have let her use it and the fact that they only had an old one was even more reason not to rip out pages. And, there was no publicly accessible internet available at this location.

You can hopefully tell how I feel about this. Now it's your turn -

• Do you condone this behavior?
• Are there circumstances under which you could justify this act?
• Does it matter what the subject matter was?

Belated Posting

I wrote this right after Rosh HaShanah and forgot to actually post it.....

I met an incredible two-year old this week. He’s a very blond, adventurous, fearless, ferociously smart, funny boy. He landed in DC three weeks ago and it must seem like some crazy combination of an alien planet and heaven to him. All sorts of new foods, a new language, new adults around him, cable television and lots of toys. He’s learning a lot and I’m sure teaching his mother a lot as well.

Actually, I’ve decided that she’s one of the bravest people I know. If you had asked me which of my friends were the among my bravest friends, I’m not sure who I would have put in the top five, but I’m honestly not sure I would have put Toby among them. Not that I’d have any good reason to exclude her, but I mean really, the woman doesn’t like bananas. That’s not very brave.

But after this weekend, she is absolutely number one on the list. And I’m not sure that there’s anyone between her and number 27. And I don’t know who 27 or 28 would be. (I think 29 would probably be someone I shouldn’t name publicly and who would kill me if they saw their name here – I am not that brave).

But back to Toby. First, she started the adoption process at all. The amount of paperwork, interviews, home studies and notarizations required is overwhelming. No sane person would do it. I think we may yet discover a correlation between bravery and insanity.

Then, on two different occasions, she had to travel to Russia, a country not known for being vegetarian-friendly, and at least once trip was on Aeroflot, you know the airline that use to have their smoking section on the left side of the plane and the non-smoking section on the right. Or maybe it was the other way around. In any case, on the first trip to Russia, she met a boy and had to make a decision. Yes, she knew she would have to make a decision, but knowing something is coming is nothing compared to actually having to do something about it.

And the second trip was three weeks long. And on that trip, her parents went with her. Three weeks with anyone in Russia under those stressful circumstances would have been a long time, but she also had to manage her parents during all of that. To give them a bit of credit (because I’ve met them and they are very nice people), they did offer to accompany Toby and Nate on the 18-hour train ride rather than take the two-hour flight to Moscow from their middle of no-where locale.

And then, all of the sudden and in Russian, she was decreed to be a mom. In my opinion, given the corruption in Russia, just trusting the judge was pretty brave. For all she knows, they could have also made her take home a few old statues of Lenin just to make more room in their storage facilities. If I were her, I would be wary of any large COD packages for at least the next few months.

Lastly, she let me babysit her new son. Of all the things, that’s probably the least brave, and since she chose to trust me, I did not teach him how to do “see-food”, or to say crazy things, or see how many crackers he could stuff in his mouth at one time. But Toby, for the record, next time, all bets are off.

Mimi's Straw

I'm working in DC this week. I brought a Nalgene with me, but forgot to bring a straw, and since it's got a wide mouth, I generally find that despite being an experienced drinker, I tend to get water all over myself.

So I said outloud from my cubicle, "I need a straw". Always helpful, Mimi said, "I have a straw" and she passed a green Starbucks straw over the partition.

I looked at the straw and said, "is it used". She said it was but that it had been washed.

Three days later and I'm still using the straw. The question is: who gets it next?

Triple Venti Skim Caramel Latte

I've been spending more time than I'd like to in Starbuck's over the last few weeks. For some reason, nearly every person I've met with in the last week believes it's the best place to meet. For the record, I'm not convinced it is. They don't have enough outlets. They look askance if you order a "medium coffee", and there's a lot of loud bean grinding going on.

And yet, this morning I'm in yet another Starbuck's waiting for yet another meeting. And it's fascinating to hear the drink orders. I have no idea what a Triple Venti Skim Caramel Latte is, or how expensive it was, but I sure hope it tastes good. And there's a a guy who just ordered something in a double-cup, no sleeve. He said something about it being a waste of paper. Huh?

Operation Bi Bim Bop

I decided last week that I needed to make Bi Bim Bop. This decision was prompted by the desire to eat Bi Bim Bop. Plus, I just like saying it.

It's easy enough to google it and find out what I'm talking about, but if you're feeling lazy, basically it's a bowl of rice with vegetables, meat (not in my case) and a fried egg on top that's then served with Sriracha sauce. I'm sure there's a proper way to make the rice and probably a recommended group of vegetables, but I don't think it really matters. I do think it matters that the vegetables are all put on the rice separately - in otherwords, no mixing them all together to cook. And it all tastes much better if it's made in a heavy stone or cast-iron bowl so the rice can get crispy. We have ceramic and glass bowls which don't get the rice crispy, but they do make for a nice presentation.

We had brown rice, so that's what I used. I steamed carrots, sauteed mushrooms, fake meat and cucumber (yes, cucumber) and of course, all separately, and then added sprouts. Spinach probably would have been good too, but I forgot I had any until after the fact. I fried up an egg (you have to leave the yolk runny) added a serious amount of hot sauce (Sriracha is mildly addictive).

Yum.

Note to Self

Before buying an 18 pound watermelon - check to see if husband will eat any.

What I Learned Last Week

I learned an unexpected lesson last week. I learned that it is possible to eat too much macaroni and cheese. If someone would have asked me two weeks ago if it was possible, I would have said that theoretically, it might be possible but that I couldn't realistically understand how it could be done.

And then we spent last week at camp - at a camp with good food. The dairy meals were excellent and the vegetarian options during the meat meals were pretty good too. And the best part was that they served mac 'n cheese twice during my five days there. The first time it was excellent. I've never thought of mac 'n cheese as being flawless, but this was. They clearly started with a roux, and while I have no idea what they did next, I'm pretty sure it included really good cheese. The second time it was very good, but not excellent. I think I ate too much in the pursuit of finding an excellent portion. I did not. But I did learn an unexpected lesson.

The Front of the Plane

When I fly internationally, I always sit in coach. It's never been an option to move into business class. I've been lucky the last few flights to even have a window seat.

And when I fly domestically, it's usually from the Midwest to somewhere on the East Coast. Nothing usually more than about 90 minutes or so. And then, really, you can sit anywhere in the plane. I hate sitting in the back because I don't have the patience to wait for everyone else to get off, but really, you can sit anywhere for less than two hours, even squished in a middle seat between two sumo wrestlers.

Lately though, I've been trying to work down my AirTran credits. I flew a lot last year, almost all on AirTran and my credits are starting to expire. It only takes four credits to upgrade to business class and I think I've done that for most of my last five or six flights. It's a little bit of a waste for a short flight, but it's use them or lose them, and I figure they were given to me to use.

So what I've learned is that while I can definitely sit in coach and have no issues doing so, it's still nicer to sit in business class. The biggest differences - a bigger tray table and enough space so that you can use a computer or do some writing without sticking your elbows into the person next to you. There's probably even more leg room, but I'm short and how much leg room can a short person use?! The other good part is that there is a bathroom up front that is theoretically reserved for the 12 people sitting in the front of the plane. I'm fairly certain it is no larger than the one in the back of the plane for the other 126 people, but the idea that it's more available is a nice one.

Alas, AirTran flies from Chicago but not directly to any of the places I generally need to go. I need two more round-trips before April to get another year's worth of Elite status, which is nice to have even if I can't use it, so I'm sure I'll take at least another two trips. The question will be whether I still have enough credits left to sit in the front of the plane....

Psychological Testing at Midway Airport

I was put through an arduous experiment last week at Midway Airport that was designed to measure anxiety levels. Strangely, no one ever asked me to sign a human testing waiver.

First, at 9am on a Friday morning, the security lines were as long as I've ever seen them. And the distinctions between the Family, Casual Traveler, and Business lanes were non-existant. But the Business lane was on the right and I didn't see quite as many families in line, so I took my chances there. It didn't matter. It still took me 15 minutes for anyone to even look at my ID.

And then it's the great guessing game - which magnometer line to enter. There were too many families in most of the lines - and that always means it takes longer. Most of the lines seemed to have about 10 people waiting, which isn't horrible, just annoying. And I'm not sure why, but usually the lines on the right side of the security set up at Midway are actually faster. So I went to the right.

We were all the way against the wall and it was taking a very long time to even approach the main line of machines. Something seemed wrong. When we got to the corner of the wall, the experiment became clear. We were not being directed into the machines on the right side of the security set-up, we were being sent to the machines in the way far away right side. Seriously, there was an entire TSA conference room in between the machines that were not being used and where we were headed. There were a good 60 -75 people in line in front of me.

I remain fairly certain that the 20 minutes it took us to get to the magnometer was a sick psychological experiment designed to make us crazy. That, and the people who were in line so long they risked missing their flights and so thought it was okay to cut in front of the rest of us. It was okay, because they shouldn't have to miss their flights, but the line should not have been so long as to put any of us in that situation to begin with.

Needless to say, everyone's anxiety level was higher than the security threat levels. Way beyond orange, that's for sure.

And, by the time I got through the whole line, no one asked me to sign a waiver. I'm pretty sure there's a law against this!

I Want a Lake House

I'm in Michigan spending the weekend at a friend's lake house. It's small, furnished and decorated many, many years ago, and most importantly, just sitting on the shores of a small lake.

I want one of these. Not here, but somewhere closer to where I live, where I can drive far enough to feel far away and close enough that I won't be annoyed to get in the car to drive somewhere. (Even though to get here today took 75 minutes on the El, 2 hours waiting at Midway, 37 minutes in the air, 20 minutes waiting to be picked up and then another 75 minutes driving out here.)

There's nothing to do out here unless you like swimming or boating or sitting in the sun. Fortunately, I like reading, which technically can be done anywhere, but is particularly nice when sitting along a lake. I'm sure it will also be nice tomorrow perhaps sitting on the dock or in a boat. But it will probably be nicest sitting in the shade.

The Button on my Box Won't Work

The title here is for a friend who, when I said this, told me that I could write lesbian porn with that line. For the record, what follows is not lesbian porn.

I finally stopped working around 6pm tonight and decided to finally read the morning's paper, eat dinner, and do it all in front of the television. Now, keep in mind that while we've had cable for a week, I've maybe watched all of 2 hours of television in the last six days. And I think it was mostly on the Food Network Tuesday night. (The LOST episode of Ace of Cakes and Chopped, if you were curious.)

So I sit down with the paper and my dinner and hit the "all on" power button on the remote control. The television goes on and I realize it's the Home Shopping Network. This in itself was strange because it certainly wasn't the last channel I watched, but I figured, maybe I hit some random button when I turned everything off the last time.

And then I realize that the actual cable box isn't on since the "power" light is still red, and not the blue it should be when it is on. (I almost wrote 'turned on', but I don't want to be accused of writing sordid tales.) So I press the cable button and then power. Nothing. I try this three more times. Nothing. I change the batteries in the remote control. Nothing.

All I have is the Home Shopping Network and they are selling non-down comforters made of Egyptian cotten and have a 440 thread count that really feels more like 5 or 600. And evidently they are soft enough to use without a duvet and they can be thrown in your home washer and dryer. I did find a second station that was broadcasting in Spanish. This may have been more interesting if I understood any of it.

So I got up to look at the cable box. It's actually not a cable box, it's a dvr. It's a big, shiny, silver box that has one small black panel in front with the word power that either lights up in red (off) or blue (on). The light is clearly red. I notice that there are no panels to open on the box, nor are there any buttons.

I feel like I've entered the robot-built space ship on I, Robot (a must-read if you haven't, or a re-read if you've haven't in a long time). There are no buttons on my box. It is, just a box.

So I call the cable company. After wading through voice-mail hell and then being on hold for 10 minutes, I finally reach a human being. But not a trained customer service representative. Ultimately, he tells me I can either exchange my remote control or have a technician come out. I opt for plan B. At which point I get disconnected.

Seriously?! Yes, it's true. So I call back, wade through voice-mail hell again, and am on hold for another 10 minutes and this time speak with a woman who at least hears how frustrated I am. We have a technician coming out tomorrow afternoon and she credited our account for the time we are without cable. And if I call back tomorrow, they'll credit me another day.

Post script: Ronnie got home and turned on the television. He also got the Home Shopping Network but by now they were on to selling make-up remover which I don't need (and neither does he). But he started playing with the television remote and realizes that if you punch in station numbers (as opposed to use the channel up and down buttons), we have access to cable stations. The only station number I've learned so far is Versus (75) because they are broadcasting the Tour de France. We found the channel just as Andy Schleck was beginning his time trial.

Starbucks

I'm really amazed at how much people spend on coffee drinks. For a variety of reasons, I'm working from Starbucks today. I brought in my own mug and got plain coffee.

It's a small shop, but consistantly busy this morning, and all sorts of people are walking in and ordering so many different kinds of drinks I can't figure out how they learned to order them.

They are also offering extra shots of espresso in drinks today, I'm not sure why, so listening to the staff call out the drinks has been a whole education as well.

And, they are raking in the cash. My drink was less than $2, and because I'm using my Starbucks card I get free refills (although I have yet to test that theory). But everyone else is spending a lot of money - the largest size macchiato (I have no idea what that is) is $4, and that's just the plain one. I've heard a lot of those coming through the line so far this morning.

And, if I didn't have so much work to get done, I'd be able to focus more on the people-watching.

And it's not even 7:30am!

I just set up our wireless network. It's actually fairly simple, but if you don't know how to do it, it doesn't matter whether it's simple or not. And, as a reward for setting it up, it works.

This means I can work from home and not jump from Panera to Starbucks, back to Panera and then to the laundromat (yes, the laundromat around the corner from us boasts wireless access).

Our cable television is also now working. To be fair, all I had to do was let Bernard into the house - I didn't actually have to set that up! I have probably not watched television in any kind of intentional way in almost two months. Maybe more. Without LOST, there's really no point, anyway.

But... the Tour de France is on, and that is my sport of choice. And save for about 45 minutes at a friends house the other day, I've seen none of the coverage. So if you call this week and we don't answer, we're watching le Tour.

My Laptop

My work computer is a relatively new laptop. Two weeks ago, I found the blue screen of death, shut my computer down and it then refused to boot back up.

Thankfully, I was headed to DC the next week and the folks in IT worked their magic and now my computer works. Except when it doesn't.

It turns out that they fixed my hard drive but had been testing random batteries and left me with one that has no life. Literally. If I unplug my power cord, I have 5 minutes of life before everything shuts down. Before, I had 2+ hours. Needless to say, this makes access to outlets imperative at a coffeeshop.

We're having cable and internet installed in our new place tomorrow. Until now, we've been borrowing wireless access from our neighbor, Kevin. We've never met Kevin, and truth be told, we don't know if Kevin is his name, his dog's name, or the name of their favorite band. We're not picky though and as long as Kevin allows his network to be shared, we're happy. Until we're not.

Last night and today, Kevin's network is visible but not accessible. I'm not sure what we did to offend him, nor do I know how to find him were I want to apologize (which I am not, just for the record). But it has made working from home more difficult than anticipated.

So this morning I went to a coffee shop to get some work done. I plugged in (again, access to an outlet is still an imperative) and got nothing. Well, that's not exactly true. I got a message that said there was nothing available to boot up. It had been working just fine several hours before and I couldn't believe that the IT magic was already losing it's shine.

I rebooted. Nothing. I rebooted again. Nothing. Not even the blue screen of death. Nothing. Just a message that said I was SOL.

So I unplugged my computer, put the cord in my backpack and started to put the laptop in it's padded compartment. Where it hit something at the bottom. The only think I ever keep in that section is the laptop, so I couldn't figure out how I had that drastically misplaced my phone charger or sun glasses. But you never know, so I reached my hand into the padded section and pulled out... the hard drive.

Yes, the hard drive had fallen out of my laptop. Which meant that the message I'd received about having nothing to boot up, was actually correct. Who knew?!

And now things are working fine, in case you were wondering.

Obstructed View

Fireworks tonight began at 9:15 at the lake front. So at 8:30 or so, we set out for the beach. We were clearly not the only ones with that idea. There were hundreds of people streaming east. At least we knew we were going the right direction!

We got to the park and decided walk two more blocks up to the beach. There were people with blankets and chairs set up all the way to the water. And there were a good number of boats in the water. There's the tiniest of boardwalks that runs from the street to the water, and we decided to find a place to sit there rather than the sand. Again, we were clearly not the only ones with that idea.

By 9:25 the fireworks started and from the first blast, we knew we were in trouble. There was a tree line between us and the beach where the fireworks were being launched. The bursts went mostly over the trees, but not the huge, very tall tree that was in the middle. So mainly we saw funky colors behind the enormous tree, heard the booms, and occasionally saw the higher bursts or the ones that were just a little to the left or right of the biggest tree. Almost all of us had the same problem, so at least we didn't feel dumb individually...

Waiting for Kenny Y.

I put an ad on craigslist today to get rid of our wardrobe boxes and whatever other boxes we managed to empty. I've gotten 18 or so calls. The first one said he'd pick boxes up at 5:30pm. He said he's shipping off to Iraq for two years in an administrative position but he needs boxes for him and his younger "boys".

He just left with two wardrobe boxes, about 60 smaller boxes, and 6 large bags of packing material. His name is Kenny. He is tall and bald and when I asked what branch of the service he's in he said, "the marines... the only real branch."

When I met him at the front door he said he'd just been putting in a playground at a synagogue. I never would have pegged him as a member of the tribe, but as it turns out, he's got dual citizenship with Israel and is also a colonel in the Israeli army.

Ten minutes of chatting as we loaded boxes, part of a life story, and he drove off...

Packing (and unpacking) should be a four-letter word

If for no other reason, I will never move again. Forget that I have already made that promise to my husband - I will never move again.

IF.... you have a month to leisurely pack and go through things and make sure you don't actually bring things that you haven't used in the last 10 years but who knows, you might want tomorrow, then packing probably isn't so bad. And even if you do decide to bring things that are still in their original packaging from many, many years ago that you (or someone you live with) thought you absolutely needed and couldn't live without but clearly you could, unpacking them and figuring out where they go is a problem.

Enough said.

Summer in Milwaukee

We're known for our summers here in Milwaukee. Everyone is outside, all the time. Biking, walking, going to Summerfest, playing volleyball on the beach, going to festivals - it's just a really nice time to live in Milwaukee.

But today, not so much. It's raining, which does happen sometimes, but it's also in the low 60s, which is just not acceptable weather when it's also raining at the end of June. And since we are moving, we have packed every coat, jacket and long sleeve shirt because, hey - it's summer in Milwaukee, we won't need those things until Labor Day weekend.

Evidently I was wrong....

The Perils of Packing

There are oft unreported perils of packing. We all know about the strained muscles from lifting and bending. We know that the metal thing that tears the tape off the role is sharper than it needs to be. And we always remember just a little too late that boxes really shouldn't be stacked more than three boxes high.

No, I'm talking about the peril of discovering a previously unknown hoarding disorder. And the problem is I'm not sure if it's my disorder or Ronnie's, although I'm pretty confident I could make a good guess.

I've just packed three boxes of bathroom stuff. I thought I would fill one box and was surprised when I needed most of a second. Then I remembered we have a 2nd bathroom complete with it's own closet. (I didn't forget we had the second bathroom, I just don't generally pay attention to the closet.)

We have a lot of Q-tips. And a lot of tubes of toothpaste. And so much dental floss that we could probably make enough ropes to help dozens of prisoners escape their lot. Maybe even a score of prisoners. Yes, I found that much dental floss. We have half a dozen Ace bandages. We also have a lot of bandaids, but it doesn't look as overwhelming as it did because I stuffed a lot of them into just one box. We have enough Cold-eez to help a small town get over their colds.

There were also two blow dryers. I think the last time I blew my hair dry was 10 years ago. Seriously. There were three large sun screens (all different brands and SPFs), four large moisterizers (all different brands, all unscented), and a dozen bars of Lever soap (again, Costco).

We will have two bathrooms in the new place, but only a small linen closet. It's going to be interesting to see where we store things and what we forget about when we finish the current tube of toothpaste or the last inch of dental floss....

It's too hot.

It's too hot.

Last summer, Milwaukee never hit 90 degrees. Now we're in it two days in a row. It's hard to concentrate, and even my poor laptop is feeling the effects. The internal fan is running way too often. In fact, today I went to the public library to work. I got there about 1:30pm and was very clearly not the only person who had that idea.

Plus, the heat and constant sweating makes packing difficult. As if I wasn't sweating enough, now I've got to do physical labor?

Tomorrow might be a tiny bit better. They're predicting a high of 86. My hope is that 6 degrees will make a huge difference. Or at least I'll pretend that it does.

The Man at My Table

The last few days, I've walked to the coffee shop and there's been a man sitting at my table. Which means I have to sit somewhere else. And I know better than to sit at someone else's table, so at least two of the past several days I've wound up at the tilted table. The legs are fine and it doesn't wobble, but the top is on crooked. It's too hard to read the paper. It just doesn't feel right. Plus, I'd rather sit at a square table than a round table....

But this morning, I got there at 5:40am, just 10 minutes after they open. One of the other regulars was already there. My table was empty. People slowly filed in over the next 20 minutes and then, he was there. The man who has routinely been taking over my regular space. He arrived at 6:00am and left at 6:30am. He started to sit at the tilted table, and then moved. See, even interlopers like him don't like that table.

I'm pretty sure he was wondering who was sitting at his table....

Splitting 'em Up

We all know that the President and Vice President never travel on the same plane. And I've heard that some couples never fly together, lest something happen to one of them.

Last week, when Ronnie and I flew to St. Louis, one of us sat in business class and the other in coach. It's not quite the same thing, but I did think about it at the time. (That is, until the other one of us got upgraded and then we were just on opposite sides of the aisle, which we generally are anyway.)

But back to the point at hand. My cousin stayed with us this past Friday night and on Saturday morning, he tell me he's going downstairs to see if he can find his other shoe. Curious, I asked why they weren't together. He told me that he'd split the pairs and packed one of each in one suitcase, and the second of the pair in his other suitcase.

So of course my natural response was.... is that so you lose one suitcase you still have the other shoe?

Annoyance at the Grocery Store

I rarely go to the big grocery store two blocks from our house. When I need to run out for something, I'll go, but I don't shop there on a regular basis at all.

It's been really hot today and I've been drinking water non-stop. But tonight I really wanted something cold and carbonated. A fountain soda would be perfect, but there's nothing nearby for that (and the lines out the door of Baskin Robbins was way too long!). So I decide to walk to the store and buy whatever kind of diet soda was on sale (as long as it wasn't regular Diet Coke).

I'm in luck - they have Caffiene-free Diet Pepsi on sale at five 12-packs for 12 dollars. I picked up a 12-pack and headed to the registers. It rang up at $3.96. Now, math is not my strong suite, but I'm pretty sure that the price that rang up is not the sale price. When I ask the cashier about this, she says that I would have to buy five 12-packs in order to get the sale price.

Not only do we not need 60 cans of soda, I can't carry that much home even if we did need it.

I paid for the soda, registered my complaint that this was not a commuter-friendly sale and headed started to head out the door.

And then I decided to talk to customer-service. The woman behind the counter listened to me say how much I love living in Shorewood and the ability to walk everywhere but that their store was creating a serious disincentive for shopping there if I had to buy 60 cans of soda.... (Yes, I know there are far more important issues facing consumers and the overall food economy.)

She told me that it was a Pepsi policy for the sale and not store policy, and then she gave me money back so that my purchase equaled the sale price.

And now I'm home chilling a few cans, drinking one over lots of ice and trying to decide if I should walk back for another 12-pack (not).