Shoes, Ships, and Sealing Wax

Swing

Last night we went to the brew pub "down the street" (it is actually about 3 1/2 miles away, but only two turns) to hear a swing band. My sister and brother-in-law were going because my BIL knows the trombone player.

I'm very glad we went. The band was good (I'd have called them more R&B than swing...but that's a distiction that's probably too fine to worry about), the food was good, the beer was good. I don't dance a bit, but that didn't stop me from making fun of the people who did...they were a rhythym-less, soul-less bunch. All the men looked like middle-aged orthodontists and the women looked like...I dunno, orthodontists' wives who'd just gotten their hair done. The kind of women who wear khaki slacks, twin sets, and loafers to the grocery store.

What I mean is, upper class respectable people. Not like me.

The brewery had a summer brew on tap, a wheat blueberry that I thought was quite nice. A definite chick beer; I haven't met very many men who appreciate such sweetness in beer. BIL said it tasted like a blueberry muffin, but then he's a IPA fan...hoppier the better...while I want malt. They also brew a stout I'll have to try, but at 6-something percent alcohol, it will have to be an earlier evening. I had trouble making it to 11 pm without falling asleep as it was, but I did. After the last several weeks, it was quite an accomplishment. Kinda affirming, in a way.

Screwing around

...with the templates and so on, just because I can't leave well enough alone, and I inadvertantly changed the default date display to Estonian.

I knew an Estonian guy in college...no, wait, he was Latvian.

Well, technically at the time he was a Soviet citizen, but (to paraphrase Victor Laszlo) he never accepted that privilege.

I never appreciated Laszlo, but I think it's because I was too much of a Bogart fan. I think I'll try watching Casablance with him in mind next time.

I love watching trains of thought derail!

And I'm keeping the Estonian.

Traveling through another dimension

Uh oh. Sci-Fi is running Twilght Zone reruns...must...turn...tv...off.

I swear, these shows still creep me out better than anything, but I can't look away.

Breakfast drama

We went to Denny's for breakfast today. About the time we were wrapping up, I was distracted by a customer at the front counter. As he got louder, I figured out that he and the manager were disagreeing over his change.

The customer claimed he'd given the manager two twenties to pay his $24 check, but he only got four bucks change. The manager was unyieldingly refusing to admit shortchanging the customer, since the customer left the restaurant and then came back.

I was inclined to side with the manager, just because I have a bit of a caveat emptor attitude...when you get change, you count it there in front of whoever made the change, and resolve any discrepency right there. And if you're expecting sixteen bucks and you get four, I'd think you'd notice right away, since it wouldn't even be the same number of bills. And once you leave...sorry, the transcation is complete and you accepted the outcome.

The customer, though, was getting louder and more belligerent, and the manager actually called the cops. At that point, were I the manager, I'd have given $12 to get rid of the guy.

The customer called his waitress over and demanded his four dollar tip back, too. (Her tip went up from me then.) And I didn't care if the guy was right or wrong about his change, when he said "Don't you know how to count American money?" to the manager, I really got mad. I wanted to let that jerk know that was completely uncalled for.

But I didn't do squat. No, I'm an avoidance freak. I wanted to get our check paid and get the heck out before it got uglier. Which is exactly what we did (passing the arriving police officer in the parking lot), so I'll never know how this little drama played out.

Not something you see every day

I went to the doctor this morning to have my blood drawn for my test. I got there right at 8:30, when they open. As I pulled into the parking lot I saw that the front doors were propped open with chairs, which seemed peculiar. I wondered if the air conditioning was out, which would certainly suck on a humid 90 degree day. Then I realized that the pale green on the sidewalk in front of the door wasn't a welcome mat, it was broken glass.

There were two men outside, a guy in the uniform of the fast food restaurant next door, who was sitting on a bench wearing a walkman and looking indifferent, and a scruffy older guy in baggy khakis and an undershirt talking on a cell phone. I though he might be a contractor there to fix the door.

I walked up a bit tentatively. The scruffy guy closed the phone and asked if I had an appointment. "Just a blood draw," I said, trying to see inside for someone in scrubs, like the teenaged PA from yesterday.

The guy introduced himself as "Doctor," and I realized he was the head physician in the practice. Then I saw that there was a small stack of blackened manila folders on the sidewalk.

"Was there a fire?" I asked. Inside I could also see a melted radio on the desk where I signed in yesterday. I am terrified by, and therefore obsessed with, fire. "Do you know what started it?"

The doctor said that someone had broken in and tried to set fire to the files. Then he asked my name, and offered to see if my file was still in there so I could get my blood work done.

"I can come back," I said. "It's not urgent, just from a physical."

"Yeah, but you're fasting, you might as well get it done today," he said. He started giving me directions to the practice's other office, then realized the lab was closer. When I said I didn't have any paperwork, he got a precription pad and wrote it out for me right there. "CBC?"

"I need cholesterol, iron, and thyroid."

"Oh, are you anemic?"

"I'm trying to figure that out."

I saw that on the prescription he'd written "fatigue" boldly at the bottom. Then he told me it might be a week before they'd reopen, since there was so much water damage, and to call the other office if I needed anything.

I was pretty impressed with his curbside manner, and I feel really bad for the staff. Going through burned and wet patient records won't be any fun, and I hope the equipment wasn't damaged.

I couldn't find anything about the fire on the news. I wonder why somebody'd break into a doctor's office to set the records on fire? Presumably somebody with records there wanted to destroy something...or I've read too many dimestore mystery novels.

And I actually wasn't annoyed by the whole thing, which is something for me. Usually petty annoyances like that totally piss me off. I have been working on better stress management, but I think the weirdness trumped the annoyance. Like I said in the title, it ain't something you see every day.

No title

I didn't see a doctor, I saw a physician's assistant. That's fine. My favorite medical practioner ever was a nurse practitioner, and some of the worst I've had are MDs. It was just disconcerting that this PA looked to be in middle school. I mean, I know as I grow older, the frequency with which my health care professionals are younger than I am will increase. I just like them to look of legal voting age.

She gave me a wrist brace which I already don't like...it makes my thumb stick out and it is already sore, and the referred pain in my shoulder seems worse in the last, what, hour I've had it on. I think I'll self-treat with the exercises Victor's orthopedist gave him.

I go in tomorrow for a fasting blood test, but I got the definite impression that I don't meet all the anemia symptoms and she thinks my fatigue is the usual stress & livestyle. It may be, I guess, which means I need to get my ass out of bed and do some exercise no matter how crappy I feel. And maybe some mental discipline will conquer the lack of concentration.

Hey, I want a pill. Better living through chemistry.

Actually I don't want a pill. I'd rather not take anything (subject for long essay on chemicals I don't have the energy or concentration to write--but I'm not anti-chemical. Or pro-"natural." Or vice-versa.) I just wanna feel better.

Some little blonde chickie ran a red light and damn near broadsided me on my way home. That little burst of adreneline felt good, but it went away quick and I'm beat again...

sick. tired.

I'm actually going to the doctor.

My numb right hand gave me the "final straw" reason to actually go, because I feel kinda stupid going to the doctor with a list of complaints like

I'm tired.

I have a headache.

I'm really tired.

I ache.

Really, really tired.

But it's out of control. All summer...when it's light and I usually have a good amount of energy...I have been dragging. I'm getting out of bed later every morning and crawling back in earlier every night. I have no energy. I have no concentration. And although I'm exhausted, I'm sleeping very poorly, waking up with nightmares and numb arms. If it were just during the week I'd say it was work stress, but vacation didn't help, and I sleep just as badly (and I'm just as distracted and listless) on weekends.

I have no excuse. I work an 8-hour a day desk job. I commute about an hour total. No children. I don't bother to do housework. I haven't been exercising (which I know is counterproductive, but I'm just too freaking beat to move).

So I'm hoping there's an organic reason...anemia, thyroid, something...and it isn't just that I've become pathologically slackass lazy.

100 Facts

I keep seeing these "100 Facts" lists on blogs. I thought I'd whip one out...I'm not sure why I counted them down instead of up. They most definitely don't get deeper or more interesting as you go, but it was sorta fun.

100. Both my computers are Gateways.
99. Past pets include an iguana, fish, parakeets, and hermit crabs.
98. Current pets are a dog and rats.
97. I only like washing dishes with an industrial dishwasher.
96. I was a Girl Scout until high school.
95. I can still build a good campfire.
94. I was born during the LBJ administration.
93. I have never been west of Dodgeville, Wisconsin (unless New Orleans is farther west.)
92. The farthest east I have been is in the Atlantic Ocean.
91. My favorite sport is ice hockey.

90. My first bicycle was a Christmas present from my parents.
89. My most recent bicycle was a bargain I bought practically new from a grad student who couldn’t ride as much as she thought she would.
88. I don’t like baking because I don’t like to get lots of measuring spoons and cups dirty (see #97).
87. I am starting to appreciate red wine.
86. I still like beer.
85. I prefer hardwood floor to carpet.
84. I settled for wood-looking laminate in my house.
83. I graduated from the University of Maryland.
82. I minored in government and politics.
81. I had a professor who suggested that as we got older, we would care more about our county council than Congress.
80. I have made that switch.
79. I don’t have children.
78. I have e-mailed my county council about pending decisions.
77. I believe it is more appropriate to show patriotism by being a productive and active citizen than by displaying the flag.
76. I’m embarrassed to admit that I am keeping a personal blog.
75. The first movie I saw in the theater was “Bambi.”
74. The last movie I saw was “Bend It Like Beckham.”
73. I attended the first WUSA (pro women’s soccer league) game at RFK in Washington.
72. I played soccer for one season as a child.
71. I tripped and fell down a lot.
70. Cheeseburgers were my favorite food for a long time.
69. I still like sandwiches a lot.
68. I once had a restaurant idea where I’d have two sides of the menu: the “fancy” side (chicken cordon bleu) and the corresponding “sandwich side” (grilled chicken stuffed with ham and cheese on french bread).
67. My first car was a Chevy Celebrity.
66. I drive a Ford Focus wagon now.
65. I understand the global economy but I still want an American car.
64. I try to eat yogurt because it is good for me but I don’t like it.
63. I like tangy cole slaw and barbeque with vinegar but no tomato in the sauce.
62. I don’t consider myself southern.
61. I’d rather have cheese than chocolate.
60. I do think about subjects other than food.
59. I believe in the statement by the Catholic bishops “[T]hat every person is precious, that people are more important than things, and that the measure of every institution is whether it threatens or enhances the life and dignity of the human person.”
58. I haven’t attended Catholic (or any other) church since I was in college.
57. Some of my best friends are gay.
56. I’m straight.
55. I’m also pretty butch, though.
54. I did wear a dress when I got married.
53. I’m divorced.
52. My ex and I are friends but not close friends.
51. I won’t reveal anything more personal than that.
50. I have only dyed my hair once.
49. I love office supply stores.
48. I know how to develop black & white film and print the photos.
47. I almost always take digital pictures now.
46. The exterior of my house is green.
45. My favorite color is burgundy.
44. For most of my life it was blue.
43. I am proof that people can change.
42. I participate in marketing research focus groups.
41. I was in a focus group about the Intuition disposable razors.
40. I cut up my legs when I shave.
39. My sister calls my shaving nicks “Polish suicide attempts.”
38. We are part Polish.
37. I have done suicide prevention volunteer work.
36. I do have a twisted sense of humor, maybe even a sick one.
35. I prefer 7-11 coffee to Starbucks.
34. The nursery school I attended had ponies.
33. I never had that girlhood “horse” phase.
32. I got straight A’s in seventh grade.
31. I got C’s in high school math and science.
30. I now work in a lab.
29. Alexander Hamilton is my favorite Federalist.
28. George Wythe is my favorite Revolutionary.
27. I like Henry Clay too.
26. I haven’t been to the dentist in years.
25. I don’t have dental insurance.
24. When I was a kid I wanted to be a spy.
23. I have no desire to be a spy now.
22. I am “three degrees of separation” from Robert Hanssen via two different paths.
21. I loved the tv show “Wild Wild West.”
20. I got hooked on the “X-Files” during the fourth season.
19. I was recovering from knee surgery and watched an X-Files marathon on cable every night for a week. It was 25 episodes long.
18. I was actually relieved when the show ended and I have avoided becoming addicted to any show since.
17. I do have Internet addiction issues.
16. I’m Capricorn.
15. I don’t believe in the zodiac.
14. I agree that there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in my philosophy, however.
13. Julius Caesar is my favorite Shakespearean play.
12. I didn’t appreciate “The Great Gatsby” until I read it as an adult, but I studied it in high school and college.
11. I have seen the Reduced Shakespeare Company twice and they are hysterical.
10. My municipal recycling pickup day is Wednesday.
9. This list has taken me almost two hours, although I stopped to eat dinner.
8. Back to food…I try to eat three or more vegetarian dinners a week.
7. I did not eat vegetables as a child.
6. I also hated pizza as a child.
5. I like both bourbon and scotch.
4. When I was teething, my uncle dipped my pacifier in scotch to make me stop crying.
3. When I was 18 months old, my parents took me to a nice restaurant and I embarrassed them by throwing a plate.
2. I have eaten at the same restaurant as an adult and had bratty children seated near me.
1. Even 100 facts do not sum me up.

back to school

Today is the first day of school here. Normally I don't see the little kids, just the sullen high schoolers that are at bus stops when I leave for work, but today I am home for more plumbing. (I'd love to take all day off, but I have a teleconference this afternoon...so unless the plumber is still here, I'll be going to the office when he's done. If he's here I'll be teleconfering from my kitchen, I guess, which will be quite weird.)
Anyway, I was home to see the grade school kids wait for the bus at the end of the street. I don't know what these kids are carrying, but their backpacks look like the one I used to go camping with. I'm surprised they don't tip over from the weight.
My niece starts kindergarden next week...she got a week reprieve when they found asbestos floors in her school when they ripped out the carpet a few weeks ago. (The asbestos floor probably poses less danger than the offgassing from new carpet, but I won't dwell on that.) Anyway, she's so excited. She got a new enormous backpack too.
Actually, though I was never a school fan, I did love the new supplies every year. My school supply love grew into an office supply fetish, and I just treated myself to a new leather day planner last week.
I also didn't like recess as a kid. I was uncoordinated, afraid of hanging upside down on monkey bars, too slow to race. I didn't mind tetherball, but mostly I preferred to smuggle a book out and sit under a tree and read. There were about four of us geeks who did that.
Now I'd kill to have a half hour of enforced physical activity during the day. For awhile there was a gym down the street from my office, and I had a very undemanding job (undemanding because I was being reengineered out) and I could spend my lunch hour in a spinning class or lifting weights pretty much every day. Then when I got back to my desk I could still eat. Those were the days. Unfortunately now my lunch hour is usually half work anyway, and they tore down the gym to build a new office building and parking garage.
Yeah, I think a grade school schedule would suit me well now. Snacks, recess, and maybe rest time. Yeah. 9 to 3. YEAH.

Another Pleasant Valley Sunday

I took a walk in the woods today...well, sort of...the path around a lake near woods in Rock Creek Park, actually. At any rate, it was closer to nature than the sidewalk between my house and the shopping center, and it was some exercise, and it was a nice head-clearer. I need to do that every Sunday.

After all the errand-running Victor grilled chicken for dinner, and I made orzo and greek salad (tomato, cucumber, onion, and feta with oil and vinegar) to go with it. Then I got truly domestic and mixed up meatloaf for later this week. The recipe predates the Monkees; my mother learned it in Home Ec. None of that fancy "add salsa for a southwestern kick" here; this is a classic suburban meatloaf. Yum, ketchup...

I forgot where I was going with this. Maybe it'll come to me next Sunday.

Go girls go

The Mystics lost tonight, although since they were already out of the playoffs (and frankly it was a pretty poor season) it didn't really matter. The high point of the game was the halftime tribute to Vicky Bullett. Bullett played for the Terps when I was at Maryland (and since that was the post-Len Bias dark days of the men's team, the women's team actually got some of the recognition they deserved back then.)

I admit I am not a huge basketball fan. I like all sports (well, team sports...auto racing and golf bore me, for example) and I follow the hometown teams. But I really love the fact that professional womens' leagues even exist, and that's why I support the WNBA and WUSA even though basketball and soccer aren't my favorites. (If we had a NWHL team here, baby, I'd have center ice season tickets and be president of the fan club.)

Here's the thing. I was a pre-Title IX tomboy. Well, Title IX was passed when I was a kid, so I did have the chance to play sports. I got to play soccer, for example, with orange traffic cones instead of a goal, on uneven ground with unmowed grass. I got to play softball on the fields with no backstops. The girls' basketball season was four weeks to the boys' twelve.

What really impresses me is that women like Cami Granato, Vicky Bullett, and Michelle Akers kept playing anyway.

When I was six I wanted to be a hockey player. I got white figure skates for Christmas.

I remember being giddy during the 1998 Olympics, watching women's hockey as a medal sport, especially when the U.S. won the gold. (The U.S. men's team made their mark that year by trashing their hotel.) I actually cried watching that game. Not because of my missed opportunity (I am a klutz and lazy. Even if I'd had the chance, I would not have made a good hockey player), but because the opportunity is there now.

I went to the first WUSA game in 2001, since it happened to be in Washington. I was thrilled to see little girls on the Metro with their Mia Hamm replica jerseys...and in the jerseys of their own teams.

And at the Mystics games I have noticed something else that makes me almost as happy as seeing the women play and the girls have role models of their own, and that's watching the men and boys cheer just as loud.

Thou shalt, uh, shalt not...

On the way home from work I heard another news item about Roy Moore refusing to remove the Ten Commandments from the Alabama Supreme Court building. (Still sore/numb, so I'm not gonna paste in a hundred links for each element. The story I heard on the radio is here.)

I remembered the scene in the Mel Brooks movie where he (as Moses) presents the "Fifteen..." *crash* "...Ten Commandments!"

Anyway, it got me thinking...what are the ten commandments? I mean, can I come up with all ten?

Thou shalt not kill. That one is easy to remember. (Doesn't Alabama have the death penalty? Although someone who understands the Bible much better than I do did tell me that the word in the original Hebrew, or Aramaic, or whatever, translates more to murder, and wouldn't specifically mean a "just" killing. I have no idea if this is theologically sound.)

Ok, lemme think. No adultery. No coveting thy neighbor's ox.

Soldiers can't be quartered in your home...wait, that's the Bill of Rights.

Was stealing one, or is that part of ox-coveting? And was it all one coveting prohibition, or was neighbor's wife separate from his ox? Or was coveting his wife a euphamism for adultery?

Oh, honor your parents. Boy, I bet mine would not be surprised to know that one didn't leap immediately to my mind.

There are some more religious ones, I think...otherwise having the Ten Commandments would be as secular as the city code. Keep holy the sabbath? I keep thinking there is something about "love thy God," but then I think that was Jesus' two-part summary that came later...love God, love neighbor as yourself.

No false idols? I'm reaching here, I admit it.

I grew up Catholic, by the way. Not a lot of Bible-reading.

I have six or seven, depending on the stealing/coveting thing. Oh, lying. Thou shalt not bear false witness, I think it says.

I admit defeat. Let's see what Google has to say. And just in case there is a difference, like there is in the Lord's Prayer, I'm searching for the Catholic version.

(Hum to yourself while I check out some more Google links, because that first one is kinda wordy. I need a list.)

Interesting...there are different versions.

Looks like (going by the Catholic short list) that the one I totally forgot was taking the Lord's name in vain. (I was gonna do that, then, for comic effect, but I have noticed that to religious people, a muttered "name in vain" is more offensive that shouting the f-bomb. And I'm not trying to mock people or be offensive.)

Anyway, now I'm up to speed on the ten commandments. I guess they aren't bad ideas, although if you have no religious beliefs, or if you believe in multiple gods, the first three or four are rather useless.

And I suspect that the people who believe in them and give damn probably don't need to look them up on the Internet to know what they are. Which means that they don't need to read them on a 5,300-pound rock in the courthouse lobby, and for those who don't believe and don't care, the rock is probably in the way.

must...stop

Not good. Numb thumb, arm pain, must stay off computer.

My boss said his 12-year-old niece has carpal tunnel syndrome already...I'm not surprised, those darn kids and their computer games...maybe they will have really good voice recognition software by the time she is my age.

Typing with just my left hand I can do a reasonable entry, it will just take three days. To remind myself of what I have on my mind, to blog later if I get this under control:
porkolt
farms
chemicals

i'm mostly bummed because the rat page is about half-finished, and i want to put it up...but not til it is done. i will try to con victor into typing for me this weekend.

fat...brain...stuff

I'm not typing much at all...trying to limit unnecessary computer time...because my right thumb is numb. And my right arm is tingling. And I know what that's a sign of and I don't like it...

But I am so intrigued by this story about omega-3 fatty acids and the brain from today's Post that I want to mark it for later.

Here's the part that has me really fascinated:

Essential fatty acids are fats that can't be produced by the body but are required for good health. They play key roles in the structure of brain cells and of the eye, particularly the retina. They're vital for each neuron's membrane, both its outer protection and its means of accessing key nutrients. And it is these essential fats that regulate the growth of long tendrils called axons that enable neurons to communicate with each other.
...
Omega-3s and omega-6s are close enough in chemical structure to be able to compete for the same molecular machinery that allows entry into the brain. (Omega-3 fatty acid molecules have three carbon atoms on one end; omega-6 fatty acids have six.)

That fact might simply still be a little quirk of nature had not a huge shift occurred in diets during the past century. In 1909, Americans got most of their fat from free-range animals, which have higher levels of omega-3s than the chicken, beef and pork commonly eaten today. They also consumed about 0.02 pounds per year of soybean oil -- a number that increased gradually until about 1960, when "soybean oil took over the U.S. food chain," says William Lands, a retired biochemist with NIAAA. "It was like a tsunami."

By 1999, soybean oil -- a major ingredient in crackers, bread, salad dressings, baked goods and processed food of all sorts -- accounted for 20 percent of total calories consumed in the United States, according to the U.S. Department of Agriculture. Per capita consumption reached 25 pounds per year. "That means that there has been an 1,000-fold increase in [consumption of] omega-6 fatty acids" over 100 years, Hibbeln says. "So we have literally changed the composition of people's bodies and their brains. A very interesting question, which we don't know the answer to yet, is to what degree the dietary change has changed overall behavior in our society."

Bob

I have been spending my stare-at-a-keyboard time this weekend working on the new rat web page. I came across this picture of my old man Bob (he's nearing three years, which is good and elderly for a rat) eating his corn. About all he really does is eat and sleep, but he's still way into the eating. He toddles out to the cage door as soon as I show up in case I have a treat. Because he's so old, I give in and give him one almost every time.

Bisquick

I actually made dinner tonight. I'm not sure when the last time I cooked was...before vacation I was busy at work, then getting ready for vacation, so I ate out alot that month, then with no water and the pets at my parents', eating out this week seemed sensible too. But I realized that someday I had to cook again, for health and finance.

So tonight I made a salad of cucumber and tomatoes (the tomatoes on my plant finally got red!) tossed with balsamic vinaigrette and a spinach-feta pie.

Specifically, it was an Impossibly Easy Spinach-Feta Pie, with the Impossibly Easy part being, I would guess, a trademark of General Mills. Even if they didn't register it, anybody raised on suburban cooking and ads in womens' magazines from the grocery store checkout will recognize Impossibly Easy Whatever as a one-dish Bisquick-based dinner. You throw your main ingredients (spinach and feta, chicken and broccoli, tuna and peas) in a pie plate, add a mixture of Bisquick, milk and eggs, and after it bakes it is sorta like a quiche.

I love these things. The oddest one had a filling of kielbasa, sauerkraut, and swiss cheese, and you used beer instead of milk in the Bisquick mix (I think it might have been the Impossibly Easy Oktoberfest Pie), but it was pretty good.

Actually, I love Bisquick in general. I hate to cook, but I do like eating. I have a killer banana bread recipe that only needs five ingredients: banana, Bisquick, egg, sugar, and oil. I'm not big on baking because I hate measuring, and cleaning up the utensils. Forget any recipe that starts with two mixing bowls. I think I found a way to make the bread using only the 1/4 cup measure...if only I could mix it right in the loaf pan.

So I am so not Betty Crocker. My co-workers were quite surprised to hear about my Bisquick fetish. One made sarcastic comments about a Crock Pot. (Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do have one, but I pretty much only use it for chili. It isn't that I'm anti-Crock Pot, I'm just not organized enough to be assembling dinner before I go to work.) But apparently my friends were surprised to find me, a divorced Yuppie who buys organic tv dinners, in the Bisquick & Crock Pot demographic.

Then I really surprised 'em. You know those Betty Crocker coupons on General Mills' boxes? They say something like "22 Points. Save on Houswares and Gifts!" Then in tiny type it tells you to write to Betty Crocker for a Free Catalog!

My grandmother had them in a drawer in her kitchen, all separated by point value and neatly secured with rubber bands. When I ask people about them, usually they don't know what I'm talking about (younger people) or they think Betty Crocker coupons went the way of Green Stamps.

Uh-uh. I save them. Moreover, I sent for the catalog and I use them. My silverware? Betty Crocker. My plates? 75% off! Frying pan? Scissors? Had a double points coupon that time!

I am totally Betty Crocker.

Water, part 3

I have it...water, I mean. That's why I was able to go more than 20 minutes without blogging.

I do have a few minor plumbing issues...leaky faucets, toilet flappers...to deal with (I knew that, and it was a bit embarrassing to have the plumber point them out. "Oh, yeah. It's been that way for years. I just only use the hot water on that faucet." I know he was thinking Bad homeowner!)

Care to guess what House has in store for me next?

Water, part 2

Well, the water should be on soon...the plumber did have to replace some pipe behind the shower, which required soldering. I know this because he asked for a spray bottle in case a spark tried to ignite something...now I know why they left the tub filled yesterday.

I wish I had sprinklers. Not that sprinklers would work when the water is off, but they'd help me sleep tonight.

Anyway, once the shower is back together he'll turn on the water. I will be happy, because, well, I kinda need water, or more to the point, I need to use facilities that need water running through them, if you know what I mean.

Doooooonuts

I'm totally remiss...a blog about eating in Ocean City and I forgot to mention the best-named establishment: the Fractured Prune.

Actually it was Victor who wanted donuts, but they were good.

The 'Prune means something other that donuts to me, though. It used to be a little shop on 46th Street (right in front of where the Shark is now...the site now is a huge t-shirt shop) where you could get, besides donuts and coffee, everything you really needed at the beach: comic books, mayonaise in tiny jars, bait, a boogie board. Back in the old, old days, I used to walk down there every morning with my grandfather to get the newspaper.

My grandparents started us on the OC tradition. They rented the condo(s) and invited the kids...my mom and her four brothers, with the spouses and children...for the week. Those were good times, even the year it rained all week and the adults finished 23 cases of beer by Wednesday because they were cooped up in the apartment with seven (eight, maybe? It probably felt like 18) children. I think that was the year I learned how to play five-card draw. I think it was the year I learned the parts of speech by playing Mad Libs. ("An exclaimation shows surprise: Oh, how witty! Ah, how wise!" explained my grandmother. "Oh, shit!" supplied my uncle.)

I still remember the shock the year we came into town down Coastal Highway and the 'Prune was gone. I had an exclaimation or two then...

Dreaming of food

Well, I can't do much while the plumber is working, so I'll do some more beach blogging. Man, I wish I were still at the beach.

I gained four pounds, which is not bad considering how much I ate, and what I ate...

My favorite restaurant in Ocean City is Weitzel's, a family place on 51st Street. I referred to it earlier as "mom-n-pop," which it was in 1977 when I started eating there, but the mom-n-pop have retired and it is run by the next generation. We eat there, I dunno, almost once a day. Walking distance to Weitzel's is the main requirement for where we stay.

Weitzel's doesn't have a web page (it would be a bit out of character if they did) so I can't pull up the menu online and reflect on meals gone by...don't laugh. I do that, especially in, say, February, when I need a vacation. Anyway, I don't need a web page to remember Weitzel's, because I have been eating the same thing for 26 years. Fried chicken. Steak & cheese with onion rings. The "Big G" burger. Breakfast...eggs, or maybe an omelette, with fried potatoes and escalloped apples. (I don't eat either, but at Weitzel's you can get both scrapple and grits! It's where the scrapple-grits lines meet!) Maybe an ice cream sundae in the evening.

A few years ago I found a runner-up to Weitzel's (which will, no matter what, always be my favorite OC restaurant for sentimental reasons): the Shark on 46th Street. The reason: "An 8 oz. grilled tenderloin filet of Certified Angus beef topped with a walnut & bleu cheese blend & caramelized Granny Smith apples & sweet onions." Oh, man. Carmelized onion and blue cheese are two of my favorite things. Walnuts are good. Filet is good.

I'm now drooling like Homer all over my lap top.

This year (in an effort to find places without kids...not that I don't love my niece and nephews dearly, but sometimes it is nice to eat someplace without sippy cups and crayons) we went to The Hobbit. When I was a kid (past the sippy cups but not well into food beyond cheeseburgers and fries) I remember the Hobbit being advertised as "proper dress required." I never throught I'd want to dress up for dinner on vacation (although I think that "proper dress" thing is long gone), but looking at the menu I decided we needed to go there this year. I was really glad. I expected it to be good...they opened the same year I started going to OC annually, and any place that stays around that long can't suck. I wasn't disappointed. We ate in a room overlooking the bay, the courses came out at a civilized, relaxed pace, and the food was wonderful. I had tuna "topped with asparagus tips, hearts of palm, shiitake mushrooms, shallots, garlic and grape tomatoes in a a white wine, caper, lemon butter sauce."

(Pause to clean up drool.)

Ah, one funny thing. The first couple nights the family all ate together (i.e., with the kids), so we got dinner first from Weitzel's and then went to Dumser's, another family-style place that actually started as an ice cream stand in 1939. So again, it doesn't suck. Anyway, I was trying to eat vegetables when I could, to keep the weight gain to a minimum, and not just french fries and onion rings. Both nights I had green beans. I like green beans fine. At the Shark on Monday night, though, I was hoping for something different...but the vegetable of the day was green beans. So the night we went to the Hobbit I was pretty excited to see broccoli on peoples' plates. Then when our food came out...green beans. (Ah, well. Maryland farms grow 4462 acres of green beans, second only to corn in terms of vegetable farm land use, so I guess it makes sense. And that's a real statistic.)

Anyway, we also ate at Macky's on 54th Street. Their menu is heavily seafood I'm allergic to, and since the fresh vegetable was green beans, I went with salad and pasta. And all food is better when you get to eat it watching the sun set over the water.

Then there's the junk. The Boardwalk. This may account for 3.75 of my four pounds, frankly...I must have my Thrasher's fries (covered in vinegar) and a polish [sausage] with the works from Polock Johnny's. And what the hell, a funnel cake to share with the seagulls.

This is Victor's lunch...but substitute the polish for the corn dog and it'd be mine. (I didn't get a chance to take a picture of it; I had chili sauce on my fingers and the camera slipped.)

The plumber is still here. As soon as he leaves...I can be down there in, oh, four hours if the traffic is good...

Water

I am waiting for the plumber.

My house has a personality...a twisted, mean personality. I've been saving up for several years now to redo my kitchen, to get rid of the dark walnut cabinets and the self-stick tile that no longer meets up right...the rusted sink and the counter, which has a pattern that looks like brown burlap.

This spring I decided I'd saved enough to get started. I picked out cabinets and tile. I even started flirting with the idea of solid surface countertops...ah, Corian.

Another thing I'd like to do is install a sprinkler system. I am pathologially afraid of fire. A friend of mine recently purchased a new house, and by new I mean one being build right now, and she was showing me the zoned fire suppression system and alarms it comes with. I was very jealous. I mentioned to a fire engineer I happened to be working with at the office that I was impressed that new houses had these systems, and he told me you could install sprinklers in existing buildings. I looked into it, but it isn't really feasible (economically, if nothing else) in my house.

But my house has that evil sense of humor. House said "You want sprinklers? I'll give you sprinklers!" and next think I knew my basement copper pipes were full of pinhole leaks.

Now, I'm actually pretty lucky. Although I have multiple leaks, they've all been in my basement, unlike neighbors who've had them ruin painted walls and ceilings, or one family down the street...during last year's blizzard, they had a leak that shorted out the furnace. They decided to re-pipe, which took about a week, and then they had to repaint and repaper the whole house because of the holes in the walls.

I'd read about a process called ACE DuraFlo where they coat the inside of the pipes with epoxy to stop the leaks. I decided to give them a call, since I started having nightmares of the leaks in the upstairs pipes as well. It was easy enough to strap a neoprene patch to a leak under the suspended basement ceiling, but what if it leaked in the kitchen? It might further warp my lovely self-stick tile floor!

Here's the funny part...the estimate to fix the pipes cost exactly what I'd saved for the kitchen remodel.

So anyway, yesterday they shot the epoxy through the pipes, and now I'm waiting for the plumber to come back and reconnect all my sinks and stuff. Then I'll wash some dishes in my rusty sink and put them away in the walnut cabinets I'll be living with for several more years, as I lust after Corian from afar.

Home again

Yeah, vacation is over. That is the fastest week of my year by far.

My family has gone for a week at the beach for about 26 years now. As soon as I pick up the condo key from the rental office I start thinking I really need to buy a place here. Then I could bring the pets...then I could come down whenever I want...

Last year a new building went up near where we stay. It's beautiful, overlooking the bay:

This year, there was a new one almost finished right across the street. I sat on the balcony every day and watched the landscapers. I also checked out the model...it is nice. It is much nicer than my house. It has a gas fireplace, huge whirlpool tub, wet bar, walk-in closet, four bedrooms.

It also costs five times what my house here is worth. So I thought maybe if I lower my expectations, maybe I could afford something a bit more modest. An older condo, of the non-luxury variety...I don't need air conditioning at the beach. An efficiency. A trailer.

The only thing in my price range was quite small:

A few rainy day notes

Nobody wanted to go out in the rain to change the sign from "warm sun" to "cold !@#$%^& rain." Perhaps the drink, though...

The street in front of the condo.

Some days lifeguarding must be a cold and lonely job.

This guy managed to find something to do despite the weather.

Not sure about this

I kept seeing this billboard once we crossed the Bay Bridge.

I am allergic to crab, but before my allergies got so bad, I used to pop Benadryl and indulge in crab cakes once a year. My favorites were from a mom-n-pop place down here in Ocean City, where they were made by hand with huge lumps of crab, a bit of mayonaise to hold it together, and Old Bay for seasoning.

So I was naturally suspicious of a McCrab.

I remember trying a test-market version of McRib while travelling through Virginia one summer. It was vile.

Bal'mer Sun columnist Dan Rodricks noted that the crab cakes, which are being test marketed in Delmarva, are handmade in Easton. That's a good sign, though phrases like "microwave ready" and "less fish filler" aren't so good. Rodricks didn't try them because of his personal boycott of crab meat over the over-harvesting of Bay crabs, a view I can respect. His column didn't specifically say that McDonald's was using Maryland blue crab, though, and even though the production is in Easton, a fair amount of crab is actually imported into Maryland from the Gulf of Mexico.

Anyway, I'm on vacation, and a serious discussion of ecology is for another day. So, for that matter, is the McDonald's debate...they are bad, they are good, I am fundamentally opposed to so much of what they do, but I eat there probably once a week. On bad, busy weeks, it's even more. I feel dirty.

I'm also never going to be able to eat the stupid crab cake without having to go to the hospital, but for some reason I really want to know...is it any good?

My favorite rat

...just chewed a hole in my favorite pair of jeans.

(I still feel bad about leaving them behind tomorrow.)

v-a-c-a-t-i-o-n

My vacation began about two hours ago, although we aren't leaving for the beach until tomorrow. The only thing that leaves me not 100% thrilled is having to leave behind the pets, but it is hard to find a rental condo that will allow two dogs, two guinea pigs, and ten rats for a week. (Two dogs includes my parents' lab; it is the big family vacation.)

Several weeks ago my mom and I went to a local kennel to check out the digs for the dogs. The kennel is owned by a former breeder, and it is out in the country, up a winding, wooded road. As we approached it I was thinking "Hell, maybe I'll stay here for the week." Then we got inside. I've never been in a kennel before, except at the animal shelter where I got my beagle...I thought the concrete floor and chain-link doors were because that was a county animal shelter. I didn't realize it was typical kennel accomodations. (I guess if I'd thought about it, I would have...how else to you keep an area with so many dogs clean?) Still, it looks like jail. And my dog isn't a puppy any more...she's used to spending her days holding down the sofa and nights in bed. I couldn't send her to cellblock 9 while I'm enjoying the beach.

So, I sprung for the professional pet sitter. I knew they were perfect for our spoiled brood when the owner told me that she has one client that she walks every day (the dog being the client here), and before she goes to walk him she has to buy his McDonald's hamburger. Has to be McDonald's, no Wendy's, no Burger King. Has to be a plain hamburger, no cheese, no pickles.
The pet sitter said this like it was perfectly normal. I knew then that she wouldn't laugh at us for the Sping Mix greens that the guinea pigs like to eat, or the fleece hammocks in the rat cages.

I'm still gonna worry about them, though. The rats are getting over respiratory infections (tomorrow is the last antibiotic dose) and the dog doesn't eat much when I'm not here.

Except for the crushing guilt of leaving the babies, though, I am So Ready. This time tomorrow I'll be picking up the keys. This time Sunday I'll be floating in an inner tube drinking frozen rum punch. This time Monday I'll be enjoying a massage.

This time next Friday I'll be packing to come home, probably 15 pounds heavier but hopefully a lot less stiff.

This is my dog, holding down the sofa as usual. Maybe if the petsitter gives her hamburgers she'll forgive me for abandoning her.