Wednesday, June 30, 2004

Opera

Today's theme is the opera. NOW BEFORE YOU LEAVE to read something more interesting, consider the following:



In Berlin, The Komische Oper just opened a new production of Mozart's Abduction from the Seraglio complete with sex, murdered prostitutes, drug abuse, a furious audience shouting "Scandal!" and a horrified corporate sponsor threatening to pull the financial plug.



Oh, and there are a couple of kick-ass arias in the thing, too. Songs of love, hope, anger and betrayal that swirl a mile-a-minute or hang forlornly in the thick air in utter desperation.



In Ocracoke, North Carolina, tonight is Opry night. It's pickin and grinnin, singin and dancin, and lots of stories of island life and lore. The performers ranging in ages from their early 20s through their mid-80s, each contributing to this thriving creative island community.



Oh, and there are a couple of kick-ass songs in there too. If you go visit Roy Parsons on Ocracoke Island, he'll be glad to tell you a story, sing you a song, and play some of his CDs.



In Los Angeles, on CBS and floating around the Internet is the news that the Hamsters have been revealed for Big Brother 5 -- the great summer soap opera. This gives us Hamster watchers over at Hamster Time a full six days of analysis and pre-love / pre-hate discussion before it airs on Tuesday, July 6th. That, along with fifth season of The Amazing Race means we'll have plenty of love, hope, anger, betrayal and story telling for the next few months.



Mozart -- Ocracoke -- Hollywood.

A little slice of heaven.

Opera

Today's theme is the opera. NOW BEFORE YOU LEAVE to read something more interesting, consider the following:

In Berlin, The Komische Oper just opened a new production of Mozart's Abduction from the Seraglio complete with sex, murdered prostitutes, drug abuse, a furious audience shouting "Scandal!" and a horrified corporate sponsor threatening to pull the financial plug.

Oh, and there are a couple of kick-ass arias in the thing, too. Songs of love, hope, anger and betrayal that swirl a mile-a-minute or hang forlornly in the thick air in utter desperation.

In Ocracoke, North Carolina, tonight is Opry night. It's pickin and grinnin, singin and dancin, and lots of stories of island life and lore. The performers ranging in ages from their early 20s through their mid-80s, each contributing to this thriving creative island community.

Oh, and there are a couple of kick-ass songs in there too. If you go visit Roy Parsons on Ocracoke Island, he'll be glad to tell you a story, sing you a song, and play some of his CDs.

In Los Angeles, on CBS and floating around the Internet is the news that the Hamsters have been revealed for Big Brother 5 -- the great summer soap opera. This gives us Hamster watchers over at Hamster Time a full six days of analysis and pre-love / pre-hate discussion before it airs on Tuesday, July 6th. That, along with fifth season of The Amazing Race means we'll have plenty of love, hope, anger, betrayal and story telling for the next few months.

Mozart -- Ocracoke -- Hollywood.
A little slice of heaven.

Tuesday, June 29, 2004

Keys to the Kingdom

You may have noticed that one thing I tend not to talk about is my lousy work environment. That's because, for the most part, I don't have one. Sure there are the usual clueless patrons and things you'd rather not deal with, but I have to admit that up here in our little corner of the library, I work with a very nice group of people. I don't have any bad lady stories to share, and there really isn't a CFG or BDI among us. We're pretty lucky and we know it.



However, there are days when we have to leave our cocoon of happiness and deal with those who work amongst us in the building. Today was the worst. Today was CAPS LOCK but not LEANED OVER (you'll understand why in a minute) and bold...



THE KEY NAZI (cue scary music: duh -- duh -- DUHHHHH)



While I frolicked in the ocean, TPTB re-keyed the entire building, making it necessary to grovel before the Key Nazi to make the appropriate key switch-a-roo. I couldn't face it yesterday, but decided I had better (to use several overshot sayings) roll the dice, bite the bullet and face the music.



Down I went. (duh -- duh -- DUHHHHH)



After standing at her desk waiting for her to finish jawing with the mail room guy, it was finally my turn.



"I'm here to get my new keys," says I.



"And your last name would be.....?" she asked.



Huh? I've worked here for 15+ years and you still don't know my name? I summoned my super Spidey powers and willed my eyes not to roll out of my head. I took a deep cleansing -- do not go postal -- breath, and told her my last name.



She thumbed through a big wad of paper, slowing down considerably over U and V. I'm certain she was singing the alphabet song to herself until she realized that "V" wasn't quite far enough. Finally, she pulled out my sheet with a whopping six keys taped to the sheet.



Score!



Keep in mind I only need three keys. Actually I really only need two since I never lock my office. And why don't I lock my office? First of all, because there isn't anything of value in here that anybody could ever find, and second of all, because I can't find my office key.



Six keys! I take them upstairs to start figuring out where they belong. Office key...good. Room key...yes. Staff lounge key...excellent. Two staff lounge keys? Well, that was odd, but I figured we could use the extra as a replacement for the departmental set the students use. And then there were two keys to offices on the first floor. Where I haven't worked since 1989. DOH. There was also a listing on my key roster for an "F" desk key which isn't taped to my key paper.



I have no locking desk.



I emailed the KEY NAZI to inquire about some departmental keys we still needed and asked about the desk key for the locking desk which I haven't seen since the reign of Bush the First.



Big mistake. (duh -- duh -- DUHHHHH!!!)



In an email so pointed it could take your eye out, I was informed in a no uncertain terms KEY NAZI type way that I was issued a locking desk key on April 14, 1990, and this information had been transferred over to my new key sheet.



Mmmmkay. I think to myself (because I want to LIVE) that I'll go visit the key graveyard and start hunting for a 14 year old desk key for a desk I no longer have. Maybe it's in TinyTuna's box of memories.



Several emails ensue over the next half-hour as to the other departmental key our students need to do helpful things like UNLOCK DOORS to get books and other such trivialities. After bringing back the broomstick from the Wicked Witch of the West, we were finally granted permission to have a departmental key...on the condition that the unit head come and sign for it.



Except the unit head (my boss) is out recovering from major dental surgery.



So I emailed the KEY NAZI yet again (evidently I'm a slow learner)...



(duh -- duh -- DUHHHHH!!!)



...and alerted her to the fact that the unit head was out recovering from surgery, and would it be alright if I picked up the key?



Ho Ho! Big mistake!! (duh -- duh -- DUHHHHH!!!)



I don't know if my error was not asking with the appropriate amounts of sugar-on-top, or pretty-pleases or mother-may-I's or what. Most likely my folly was thinking that I, the lowly Green -- what's your last name?? -- Tuna had any right to think I would EVER be given an extra key.



So, the answer was a faster than a speeding bullet NO, followed by a long drawn out lecture of the RULES of KEYS and who can and CANNOT sign for them. Of course I am the leader of the CANNOT tribe. They would be signed out to the other boss, and when the unit head returned, there would be a transfer of keys.



Complete with signed treaties, flags and tootling horns, no doubt.



The problem is now finally resolved. As I sit here, thankful that I don't have to deal with these people any more than humanly necessary, I am gently fingering my massive metal rosary while I hum the theme song to "Nine to Five". Maybe I can channel the spirit of my missing desk drawer key. First I guess I had better channel the spirit of my missing desk.



Yep. I'll get right on that.

Keys to the Kingdom

You may have noticed that one thing I tend not to talk about is my lousy work environment. That's because, for the most part, I don't have one. Sure there are the usual clueless patrons and things you'd rather not deal with, but I have to admit that up here in our little corner of the library, I work with a very nice group of people. I don't have any bad lady stories to share, and there really isn't a CFG or BDI among us. We're pretty lucky and we know it.

However, there are days when we have to leave our cocoon of happiness and deal with those who work amongst us in the building. Today was the worst. Today was CAPS LOCK but not LEANED OVER (you'll understand why in a minute) and bold...

THE KEY NAZI (cue scary music: duh -- duh -- DUHHHHH)

While I frolicked in the ocean, TPTB re-keyed the entire building, making it necessary to grovel before the Key Nazi to make the appropriate key switch-a-roo. I couldn't face it yesterday, but decided I had better (to use several overshot sayings) roll the dice, bite the bullet and face the music.

Down I went. (duh -- duh -- DUHHHHH)

After standing at her desk waiting for her to finish jawing with the mail room guy, it was finally my turn.

"I'm here to get my new keys," says I.

"And your last name would be.....?" she asked.

Huh? I've worked here for 15+ years and you still don't know my name? I summoned my super Spidey powers and willed my eyes not to roll out of my head. I took a deep cleansing -- do not go postal -- breath, and told her my last name.

She thumbed through a big wad of paper, slowing down considerably over U and V. I'm certain she was singing the alphabet song to herself until she realized that "V" wasn't quite far enough. Finally, she pulled out my sheet with a whopping six keys taped to the sheet.

Score!

Keep in mind I only need three keys. Actually I really only need two since I never lock my office. And why don't I lock my office? First of all, because there isn't anything of value in here that anybody could ever find, and second of all, because I can't find my office key.

Six keys! I take them upstairs to start figuring out where they belong. Office key...good. Room key...yes. Staff lounge key...excellent. Two staff lounge keys? Well, that was odd, but I figured we could use the extra as a replacement for the departmental set the students use. And then there were two keys to offices on the first floor. Where I haven't worked since 1989. DOH. There was also a listing on my key roster for an "F" desk key which isn't taped to my key paper.

I have no locking desk.

I emailed the KEY NAZI to inquire about some departmental keys we still needed and asked about the desk key for the locking desk which I haven't seen since the reign of Bush the First.

Big mistake. (duh -- duh -- DUHHHHH!!!)

In an email so pointed it could take your eye out, I was informed in a no uncertain terms KEY NAZI type way that I was issued a locking desk key on April 14, 1990, and this information had been transferred over to my new key sheet.

Mmmmkay. I think to myself (because I want to LIVE) that I'll go visit the key graveyard and start hunting for a 14 year old desk key for a desk I no longer have. Maybe it's in TinyTuna's box of memories.

Several emails ensue over the next half-hour as to the other departmental key our students need to do helpful things like UNLOCK DOORS to get books and other such trivialities. After bringing back the broomstick from the Wicked Witch of the West, we were finally granted permission to have a departmental key...on the condition that the unit head come and sign for it.

Except the unit head (my boss) is out recovering from major dental surgery.

So I emailed the KEY NAZI yet again (evidently I'm a slow learner)...

(duh -- duh -- DUHHHHH!!!)

...and alerted her to the fact that the unit head was out recovering from surgery, and would it be alright if I picked up the key?

Ho Ho! Big mistake!! (duh -- duh -- DUHHHHH!!!)

I don't know if my error was not asking with the appropriate amounts of sugar-on-top, or pretty-pleases or mother-may-I's or what. Most likely my folly was thinking that I, the lowly Green -- what's your last name?? -- Tuna had any right to think I would EVER be given an extra key.

So, the answer was a faster than a speeding bullet NO, followed by a long drawn out lecture of the RULES of KEYS and who can and CANNOT sign for them. Of course I am the leader of the CANNOT tribe. They would be signed out to the other boss, and when the unit head returned, there would be a transfer of keys.

Complete with signed treaties, flags and tootling horns, no doubt.

The problem is now finally resolved. As I sit here, thankful that I don't have to deal with these people any more than humanly necessary, I am gently fingering my massive metal rosary while I hum the theme song to "Nine to Five". Maybe I can channel the spirit of my missing desk drawer key. First I guess I had better channel the spirit of my missing desk.

Yep. I'll get right on that.

Credit Where Credit Is Due

Filed under the "Things I really, really, REALLY wish I had thought of" is the political term du jour: Premature Iraqulation



Thanks Wonkette. You made my day.

Credit Where Credit Is Due

Filed under the "Things I really, really, REALLY wish I had thought of" is the political term du jour: Premature Iraqulation

Thanks Wonkette. You made my day.

Picking Sides

There are two types of people in this world:



Those who itch when they get a mosquito bite, and those who don't.

Those who peel their sunburned skin, and those who don't.

Those who will immediately start popping bubble wrap, and those who don't.



I know which one I am -- who are you?

Picking Sides

There are two types of people in this world:

Those who itch when they get a mosquito bite, and those who don't.
Those who peel their sunburned skin, and those who don't.
Those who will immediately start popping bubble wrap, and those who don't.

I know which one I am -- who are you?

Monday, June 28, 2004

I Spy

Any adult in charge of amusing small children is certainly aware of that ever-popular game, I Spy. It can be an effective short term distraction, or can provide hours of dining torture (or enjoyment), depending on your ATF (Annoyance Tolerance Factor). This is especially true in the case of any family-type restaurant (Applebees, I'm talking to you) whose decor consists of cubic tons of crap (memories, if you're TinyTuna) nailed to the walls.



TinyTuna: I spy something blue.

GreenTuna: Do you want to be a little more specific?

TinyTuna: Nope. You have to guess.

GreenTuna: The ball (no), The wallpaper (no), The water in that picture (no), The lamp (no), My shirt (no), The menu (no), The picture (no), The other picture (no), The letters on that other picture (no), I give up!

TinyTuna: No! You have to guess some more.

GreenTuna: (much slower, sadder and annoyeder) Uhhh, the carousel horse's saddle (no), My shirt (you already said that!), uhhh...Your shirt (no) uh....My Eyes! (NO!) ... uh...Your Eyes!!

TinyTuna: (Triumphantly) NO! HAHAHA!!! Give Up?

GreenTuna: Oh yes. I give up.

TinyTuna: See that picture from The Wizard of Oz?

GreenTuna: Where?

TinyTuna: By the front door on the other side near the ceiling.

GreenTuna: (squinting) Where? Oh, yeah. I guess.

TinyTuna: She has a blue dress!

GreenTuna: How can you see that picture from way back here around the corner?

TinyTuna: I saw it on the way in! I KNOW Dorothy has a blue dress.

GreenTuna Yeah, but....

TinyTuna: HAHA!! I have eagle eyes! Let's play again....



And so it goes until I am delivered from I-Spy hell by Moses bearing French fries or something slathered in 1000 Island Dressing.



One of our must-do things on vacation is to ride the ferry over to Ocracoke Island and spend the day frogging around. Geographically speaking, if there was a bridge from the tip of Hatteras to Ocracoke, it would take less than two minutes to drive. The ferry ride, however, takes a good 40 minutes, and the route is circuitous in order to avoid the shoals between the two swatches of land.



Blackbeard knew all about it.



After spending some quality time in Ocracoke (which is another story for another day), we leave the village and drive back to the ferry for the return trip.



Now, you never know what kind of ferry luck you're going to have. Some days Karma is your Little Buddy and you drive right on -- no waiting. Other days, it seems you are behind a beer truck, a bread truck, a camper the size of Idaho and a half-dozen priority vehicles. On days like that there is nothing you can do but play hurry up and wait.



But waiting is ok, because it's vacation and hurry is against the natural laws of relaxation. As we drove up, our chances were pretty decent. There was only one car in the priority lane, and we had made it past the last curve, which put us at about tenth in line. An empty ferry was there, waiting to load. It seemed promising that our wait wouldn't take long.



Since I wasn't the driver, I was happily ensconced in the back seat, reading. There was general familial chatter, but I wasn't paying much attention. All I knew is we still weren't moving and had killed the engine. After I moaned to get the interior lights turned back on, I settled in to read another chapter or two.



After a bit the the car chatter was rising and it was clear that an all-out game of I-Spy was in progress. Oh dear book! You were my literary I-Spy Get out of hell free card! Thank you, Thank you, Thank you! Somewhere in the midst of the activity, TinyTuna asked me for her binoculars out of the bag. I obliged her request without paying much attention. Big mistake.



Oh my gosh!



What?



Up there!!



Where are you looking?



Up there...



Geez!



What? Where? Oh I see him! I see him!! I Spy Him Too!




I finally looked up from my book, and what to my wondering eyes did appear was a car full of my relatives, INCLUDING TinyTuna, with their binoculars trained on the ferry crew inside the coast guard building, eating their dinner.



"What on earth are you doing?" I asked TinyTuna.



"Watching them eat!" She replied, keeping her binoculars trained on her targets.



That guy is eating two-handed!



I Spy Him Eating dinner!



I think I just saw him drink a beer!



I think I just saw two beers!



Are they done yet?




It was downhill from there. I hoped the unsuspecting ferry guys wouldn't do anything too embarrassing or criminal, because the nosy crew of the SSTuna decided that providing a play-by-play of the Coast Guard dinner break was the perfect diversion until we were finally waved onto the ferry.



I Spy him rubbing his belly...



I think he just burped!



Ewwwww!!



I think they're done...



Here they come! Here they come!




As we pulled onto the ferry, I looked up at GramTuna and shook my head.



"I Spy blogging material," she said.



"Oh yeah," I agreed. "Another typical Tuna vacation."

I Spy

Any adult in charge of amusing small children is certainly aware of that ever-popular game, I Spy. It can be an effective short term distraction, or can provide hours of dining torture (or enjoyment), depending on your ATF (Annoyance Tolerance Factor). This is especially true in the case of any family-type restaurant (Applebees, I'm talking to you) whose decor consists of cubic tons of crap (memories, if you're TinyTuna) nailed to the walls.

TinyTuna: I spy something blue.
GreenTuna: Do you want to be a little more specific?
TinyTuna: Nope. You have to guess.
GreenTuna: The ball (no), The wallpaper (no), The water in that picture (no), The lamp (no), My shirt (no), The menu (no), The picture (no), The other picture (no), The letters on that other picture (no), I give up!
TinyTuna: No! You have to guess some more.
GreenTuna: (much slower, sadder and annoyeder) Uhhh, the carousel horse's saddle (no), My shirt (you already said that!), uhhh...Your shirt (no) uh....My Eyes! (NO!) ... uh...Your Eyes!!
TinyTuna: (Triumphantly) NO! HAHAHA!!! Give Up?
GreenTuna: Oh yes. I give up.
TinyTuna: See that picture from The Wizard of Oz?
GreenTuna: Where?
TinyTuna: By the front door on the other side near the ceiling.
GreenTuna: (squinting) Where? Oh, yeah. I guess.
TinyTuna: She has a blue dress!
GreenTuna: How can you see that picture from way back here around the corner?
TinyTuna: I saw it on the way in! I KNOW Dorothy has a blue dress.
GreenTuna Yeah, but....
TinyTuna: HAHA!! I have eagle eyes! Let's play again....

And so it goes until I am delivered from I-Spy hell by Moses bearing French fries or something slathered in 1000 Island Dressing.

One of our must-do things on vacation is to ride the ferry over to Ocracoke Island and spend the day frogging around. Geographically speaking, if there was a bridge from the tip of Hatteras to Ocracoke, it would take less than two minutes to drive. The ferry ride, however, takes a good 40 minutes, and the route is circuitous in order to avoid the shoals between the two swatches of land.

Blackbeard knew all about it.

After spending some quality time in Ocracoke (which is another story for another day), we leave the village and drive back to the ferry for the return trip.

Now, you never know what kind of ferry luck you're going to have. Some days Karma is your Little Buddy and you drive right on -- no waiting. Other days, it seems you are behind a beer truck, a bread truck, a camper the size of Idaho and a half-dozen priority vehicles. On days like that there is nothing you can do but play hurry up and wait.

But waiting is ok, because it's vacation and hurry is against the natural laws of relaxation. As we drove up, our chances were pretty decent. There was only one car in the priority lane, and we had made it past the last curve, which put us at about tenth in line. An empty ferry was there, waiting to load. It seemed promising that our wait wouldn't take long.

Since I wasn't the driver, I was happily ensconced in the back seat, reading. There was general familial chatter, but I wasn't paying much attention. All I knew is we still weren't moving and had killed the engine. After I moaned to get the interior lights turned back on, I settled in to read another chapter or two.

After a bit the the car chatter was rising and it was clear that an all-out game of I-Spy was in progress. Oh dear book! You were my literary I-Spy Get out of hell free card! Thank you, Thank you, Thank you! Somewhere in the midst of the activity, TinyTuna asked me for her binoculars out of the bag. I obliged her request without paying much attention. Big mistake.

Oh my gosh!

What?

Up there!!

Where are you looking?

Up there...

Geez!

What? Where? Oh I see him! I see him!! I Spy Him Too!


I finally looked up from my book, and what to my wondering eyes did appear was a car full of my relatives, INCLUDING TinyTuna, with their binoculars trained on the ferry crew inside the coast guard building, eating their dinner.

"What on earth are you doing?" I asked TinyTuna.

"Watching them eat!" She replied, keeping her binoculars trained on her targets.

That guy is eating two-handed!

I Spy Him Eating dinner!

I think I just saw him drink a beer!

I think I just saw two beers!

Are they done yet?


It was downhill from there. I hoped the unsuspecting ferry guys wouldn't do anything too embarrassing or criminal, because the nosy crew of the SSTuna decided that providing a play-by-play of the Coast Guard dinner break was the perfect diversion until we were finally waved onto the ferry.

I Spy him rubbing his belly...

I think he just burped!

Ewwwww!!

I think they're done...

Here they come! Here they come!


As we pulled onto the ferry, I looked up at GramTuna and shook my head.

"I Spy blogging material," she said.

"Oh yeah," I agreed. "Another typical Tuna vacation."

Sunday, June 27, 2004

Reentry

I'm back safe and sound (and extra crispy) from Hatteras, NC. Vacation was great. The weather was great. The food was great. The family visiting went well, but as always, there is never anywhere near enough time to see and do everything and everyone. It can get discouraging sometimes, and all I can do is say maybe next time.



Today I'm doing my best to ease my way back into life and routine here at the Tuna compound, trying hard to avoid resuming my 100 mph existence -- at least for today. So, as I'm putting things away, I'm taking my time and focusing (ala TinyTuna) on the memories. Over the next several days there will be plenty of stories to share about our annual east coast excursion. Thankfully, I'll have my own computer at my disposal, instead of waiting like a dog for my half-hour Internet kibble at the Hatteras Village Public Library (for which I was very grateful).



Today, I bring you the books I read during my week on at the beach. This is the time I become a voracious reader because I feel I have the time and the attention span to read something longer than a 500-word essay. They aren't exactly bodice-rippers, but rather my version of beach books:



The Idiot Girls' Action-Adventure Club by Laurie Notaro.

Hah. Ok. So, I guess I read essays even when I'm at the beach. Funny writer.



If I Live To Be 100 : Lessons from the Centenarians by Neenah Ellis.

Neenah Ellis produced NPR's One Hundred Years of Stories. This book chronicles the many centenarians she met and interviewed for this series.



The No.1 Ladies' Detective Agency by Alexander McCall Smith.

I'm not a huge fan of mysteries. I don't dislike them, I just tend to pick lots of other literary genres first. I've seen this series in bookstores over the years, and decided I would try one. I'm glad I did. The writing is lyrical, and I loved it for its descriptions of Africa as much if not more than for the many investigations undertaken by Mma Ramotswe. Now I have to go get book number two...



Like The Red Panda by Andrea Seigel.

A story of a smart, Princeton-bound California senior who, during the last two weeks of high school, decides to change the path of her life. A very well-written book by a young author.



Why Girls Are Weird by Pamela Ribon.

I was glad to finally get a chance to sit down and read this book. Girl writes blog. Girl meets lots of interesting people. Gah, it was really funny, and guess what? The author also writes for TWoP. It's like reading one for the home team.



Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold.

I'm sure I'm the last person on earth to have read this book. I have nothing more to say than it was amazing. If you haven't read it, you should.



Unless by Carol Shields.

I'm not done yet. It was the only book that took me more than a day to read, because I wanted to keep going back and re-reading sections over again. I'm anxious to finish the story.



I leave you today with a little thought from a little book I bought last year at the beach



At the beach, treasure is what we find, not what we buy.

The beach is where we remember how to shine,

how to peel ourselves down to essence and shed our shells,

how to reduce speed....


(from How To Live At The Beach by Sandy Gingras)



It must be time to rest.

Reentry

I'm back safe and sound (and extra crispy) from Hatteras, NC. Vacation was great. The weather was great. The food was great. The family visiting went well, but as always, there is never anywhere near enough time to see and do everything and everyone. It can get discouraging sometimes, and all I can do is say maybe next time.

Today I'm doing my best to ease my way back into life and routine here at the Tuna compound, trying hard to avoid resuming my 100 mph existence -- at least for today. So, as I'm putting things away, I'm taking my time and focusing (ala TinyTuna) on the memories. Over the next several days there will be plenty of stories to share about our annual east coast excursion. Thankfully, I'll have my own computer at my disposal, instead of waiting like a dog for my half-hour Internet kibble at the Hatteras Village Public Library (for which I was very grateful).

Today, I bring you the books I read during my week on at the beach. This is the time I become a voracious reader because I feel I have the time and the attention span to read something longer than a 500-word essay. They aren't exactly bodice-rippers, but rather my version of beach books:

The Idiot Girls' Action-Adventure Club by Laurie Notaro.
Hah. Ok. So, I guess I read essays even when I'm at the beach. Funny writer.

If I Live To Be 100 : Lessons from the Centenarians by Neenah Ellis.
Neenah Ellis produced NPR's One Hundred Years of Stories. This book chronicles the many centenarians she met and interviewed for this series.

The No.1 Ladies' Detective Agency by Alexander McCall Smith.
I'm not a huge fan of mysteries. I don't dislike them, I just tend to pick lots of other literary genres first. I've seen this series in bookstores over the years, and decided I would try one. I'm glad I did. The writing is lyrical, and I loved it for its descriptions of Africa as much if not more than for the many investigations undertaken by Mma Ramotswe. Now I have to go get book number two...

Like The Red Panda by Andrea Seigel.
A story of a smart, Princeton-bound California senior who, during the last two weeks of high school, decides to change the path of her life. A very well-written book by a young author.

Why Girls Are Weird by Pamela Ribon.
I was glad to finally get a chance to sit down and read this book. Girl writes blog. Girl meets lots of interesting people. Gah, it was really funny, and guess what? The author also writes for TWoP. It's like reading one for the home team.

Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold.
I'm sure I'm the last person on earth to have read this book. I have nothing more to say than it was amazing. If you haven't read it, you should.

Unless by Carol Shields.
I'm not done yet. It was the only book that took me more than a day to read, because I wanted to keep going back and re-reading sections over again. I'm anxious to finish the story.

I leave you today with a little thought from a little book I bought last year at the beach

At the beach, treasure is what we find, not what we buy.
The beach is where we remember how to shine,
how to peel ourselves down to essence and shed our shells,
how to reduce speed....

(from How To Live At The Beach by Sandy Gingras)

It must be time to rest.

Wednesday, June 23, 2004

Fried Green Tuna

Day of Vacation: I don't know

Days until BB5 / TAR: I don't know



I'm a crispy tuna on vacation. I don't know what day it is (actually I do, it's Wednesday, right?) and I don't know what is happening in the world. I refuse to watch most of the news or anything else for that matter. It's sun, sleep, read, sew, eat, repeat until somebody drags me to the car to drive home.



This will be brief because frankly, it's cutting into my vacation time. I just stopped by to say howdy, and I miss you all!



TinyTuna is fast becoming a boogie-boarding expert (think overgrown kickboard, and you'll have the right idea). She plays in the ocean until she has been repeatedly bashed by waves, then dramatically staggers to her beach chair, sighs loudly, moans about the rough ocean and then after about 25 seconds of resting, she just can't handle it anymore, and grabs her board and heads out again.



Needless to say, she's having fun.



I'm six completed books and two completed cross stitch projects into vacation. It must be time to go, because GramTuna is now reading "Panda Bear, Panda Bear, What Do You See?" and I'm ready to slug her.



So, that being said, give peace a chance. Time to head out.

Until next time...



VacationTuna

Fried Green Tuna

Day of Vacation: I don't know
Days until BB5 / TAR: I don't know

I'm a crispy tuna on vacation. I don't know what day it is (actually I do, it's Wednesday, right?) and I don't know what is happening in the world. I refuse to watch most of the news or anything else for that matter. It's sun, sleep, read, sew, eat, repeat until somebody drags me to the car to drive home.

This will be brief because frankly, it's cutting into my vacation time. I just stopped by to say howdy, and I miss you all!

TinyTuna is fast becoming a boogie-boarding expert (think overgrown kickboard, and you'll have the right idea). She plays in the ocean until she has been repeatedly bashed by waves, then dramatically staggers to her beach chair, sighs loudly, moans about the rough ocean and then after about 25 seconds of resting, she just can't handle it anymore, and grabs her board and heads out again.

Needless to say, she's having fun.

I'm six completed books and two completed cross stitch projects into vacation. It must be time to go, because GramTuna is now reading "Panda Bear, Panda Bear, What Do You See?" and I'm ready to slug her.

So, that being said, give peace a chance. Time to head out.
Until next time...

VacationTuna

Wednesday, June 16, 2004

I See Pool People!

Vacation Day: 3 of 13

Days Until BB5 and TAR: 20



I think today is Wednesday, but already I'm confused. I'm off of my usual schedule of work and television and whatnot. Since this is my first computer access in two days, I cleaned out a bucket full of junk email. I even read my CAPS LOCK EMERGENCY WEATHER emails from Monday (Actually, I just read the last one and assumed the rest. Something about rain. Go figure).



So, to recap the past two days which I wrote about before they even happened (hee!) ---



Day One - Cedar Point

It was a great day until 4:30 pm. It wasn't terribly crowded, and the crowds weren't horribly annoying -- just the usual amounts. Like all large gatherings of the great unwashed public, Cedar Point is a great place to people-watch. There were large quantities of bad body art, and so many pierced navels, I think my belly button lint was whimpering in sympathy. TinyTuna turned and asked me at one point, "why do people wear inappropriate T-Shirts?" I knew right away she was referring to the one that began "Oh Crap..."



This year TinyTuna turned into the roller coaster trooper. She sucked it up and rode The Raptor -- which is a ski-chair, dangle your legs rollercoaster. She was pretty nervous about the whole prospect, and asked me how many times it went upside-down. Being a good mother, I smiled and told her "once". It wasn't really a lie, it was more an omission of all the other times it went upside down that she couldn't see. The long and the short of the story was: she rode it, she loved it, and (of course) she instantly became a roller coaster expert.



Blue Streak? Piece of cake!

Corkscrew? Sure!

Mean Streak! Why not!



I mean, this kid was strutting through the park like she owned the joint. Of course, we agreed that we would never EVER (CAPS EVERYTHING) ride the Top Thrill Dragster Deathmobile 2000. I watched that thing go a couple times with a MPF you wouldn't believe.



Later we endured the Waves of Thunder Canyon -- "Hey, Lets All Drown In This Gigantic Innertube!" -- Ride, where the dress code for those 18 and under was evidently two doilies and a cocktail napkin folded in half.



I didn't really want to get soaked....So, of course, I got soaked. Karma sat next to me and snickered while I spent the next hour wringing out my shorts.



But, I didn't get a chance to finish, because it was 4:30 pm. And at 4:30 pm, there were no longer three water rides at Cedar Point. There were sixty-nine water rides at Cedar Point, and it was no-waiting in the getting soaked department.



So, we huddled at a food stand for awhile and drowned our sorrows in a Colossal Hot Dog Meal while this really intense thunderstorm scared the BeJeepers out of TinyTuna. As for the Colossal Hot Dog Meal, what can I say? It was indeed colossal.



But the rain, she continued on, so we decided to beat it, and finally made it to the car, soggy shorts and all, and drove to hotel land.



And guess what we did there? WE WENT SWIMMING. Because it didn't matter that we had ridden the drowning inner tube ride. It didn't matter that we stood outside in a torrential downpour. It didn't matter that every piece of clothing we had on was drenched. The only thing that mattered was there was a hotel and there was a pool, and if you have those two things plus a ten-year old, you know DARN WELL you're going swimming, come hell or rain water.



So, a-pooling we did go. I alternated between the hot tub (which I nicknamed "The Lobster Pot") and the pool, where I would return my body temperature to its upright and seated position. TinyTuna splashed around for awhile, and then came over to me as I sat in the lobster pot reading my book...



"You know what I like about swimming in pools all by ourselves?"



"What's that?"



"Well, there are good things and there are bad things."



"Uh-huh."



"The good thing is, that it is nice and quiet, and we can just be alone and have nice calm talks like this."



"Yep. That's nice."



"The bad thing is, there isn't anybody to play with since all you do is sit in the hot tub and read your book."



Remembering my soggy clothing that was drying back in the room, I decided that I wasn't going to take another bullet. I looked up at her slowly and said, "Well, if you're bored, we can always go back to our room and go to bed."



"Oh, no! I'm fine!!" She said quickly and splashed away.



"That's what I thought," I said to myself.



And so it went for awhile longer until they showed up. Father, Mother, and three children. TinyTuna let out a yelp and splashed over to the side, greeting her playmates like they were long lost relatives. The kids jumped in, and an absolutely raucous game of "Marco Polo" began.



I read my book happily.



After awhile I was finally able to drag TinyTuna from the pool. She said goodbye to her pool friend (a girl, approximately her age) and off we went to our room.



Pajamas on, book in hand, five minutes until bedtime....The phone rings.



"Hello?" I answered.



"Uh.....Yeah.....Uh.....I was wondering....."



Good Lord. It was the kid.



".....Uh.....Could uh.....Could You-Know-Who Come to my room and play?"



Evidently they had traded room numbers, but didn't know enough to ask each other their names.



"No, I'm sorry. We are going to bed now. Maybe we'll see you in the morning."



I hung up the phone and Gram looked at me. "Pool People" I said. TinyTuna's eyes got really wide, but I shook my head and told her it was bedtime.



Problem solved.



Day Two -- Pool People

Until the next morning at about 8:00 am when the phone rang again.



"....Uh.....Could uh......Do you think......"



I cut her off at the pass. "We're getting ready to leave soon, but if you hurry, TinyTuna will be in the lobby and you can say goodbye."



"OK!" *SLAM*



Pool People.



The next thing you know, The Pool People have set up camp in the lobby, eating their continental Raisin Bran. TinyTuna has absconded with the last chocolate doughnut, but shows the Pool People the lesser doughnuts left in the bin.



I'm trying to think of a way to get us out of here gracefully. I looked at TinyTuna and suggested that she trade email addresses with her pool friend, thinking trade emails, say goodbye, lose the slip of paper, no harm, no foul...



HA! I underestimate Pool People. Not only do they trade emails, they traded phone numbers and addresses, and told us exactly where they live in Illinois and the fact that they are coming up to Michigan over the Fourth of July and maybe we should get together and HEY if we are going to Washington DC, we should be sure to see the Einstein statue where it echoes back at you if you stand in just the right spot and....



Yeesh. Pool People.

I See Pool People!

Vacation Day: 3 of 13
Days Until BB5 and TAR: 20

I think today is Wednesday, but already I'm confused. I'm off of my usual schedule of work and television and whatnot. Since this is my first computer access in two days, I cleaned out a bucket full of junk email. I even read my CAPS LOCK EMERGENCY WEATHER emails from Monday (Actually, I just read the last one and assumed the rest. Something about rain. Go figure).

So, to recap the past two days which I wrote about before they even happened (hee!) ---

Day One - Cedar Point
It was a great day until 4:30 pm. It wasn't terribly crowded, and the crowds weren't horribly annoying -- just the usual amounts. Like all large gatherings of the great unwashed public, Cedar Point is a great place to people-watch. There were large quantities of bad body art, and so many pierced navels, I think my belly button lint was whimpering in sympathy. TinyTuna turned and asked me at one point, "why do people wear inappropriate T-Shirts?" I knew right away she was referring to the one that began "Oh Crap..."

This year TinyTuna turned into the roller coaster trooper. She sucked it up and rode The Raptor -- which is a ski-chair, dangle your legs rollercoaster. She was pretty nervous about the whole prospect, and asked me how many times it went upside-down. Being a good mother, I smiled and told her "once". It wasn't really a lie, it was more an omission of all the other times it went upside down that she couldn't see. The long and the short of the story was: she rode it, she loved it, and (of course) she instantly became a roller coaster expert.

Blue Streak? Piece of cake!
Corkscrew? Sure!
Mean Streak! Why not!

I mean, this kid was strutting through the park like she owned the joint. Of course, we agreed that we would never EVER (CAPS EVERYTHING) ride the Top Thrill Dragster Deathmobile 2000. I watched that thing go a couple times with a MPF you wouldn't believe.

Later we endured the Waves of Thunder Canyon -- "Hey, Lets All Drown In This Gigantic Innertube!" -- Ride, where the dress code for those 18 and under was evidently two doilies and a cocktail napkin folded in half.

I didn't really want to get soaked....So, of course, I got soaked. Karma sat next to me and snickered while I spent the next hour wringing out my shorts.

But, I didn't get a chance to finish, because it was 4:30 pm. And at 4:30 pm, there were no longer three water rides at Cedar Point. There were sixty-nine water rides at Cedar Point, and it was no-waiting in the getting soaked department.

So, we huddled at a food stand for awhile and drowned our sorrows in a Colossal Hot Dog Meal while this really intense thunderstorm scared the BeJeepers out of TinyTuna. As for the Colossal Hot Dog Meal, what can I say? It was indeed colossal.

But the rain, she continued on, so we decided to beat it, and finally made it to the car, soggy shorts and all, and drove to hotel land.

And guess what we did there? WE WENT SWIMMING. Because it didn't matter that we had ridden the drowning inner tube ride. It didn't matter that we stood outside in a torrential downpour. It didn't matter that every piece of clothing we had on was drenched. The only thing that mattered was there was a hotel and there was a pool, and if you have those two things plus a ten-year old, you know DARN WELL you're going swimming, come hell or rain water.

So, a-pooling we did go. I alternated between the hot tub (which I nicknamed "The Lobster Pot") and the pool, where I would return my body temperature to its upright and seated position. TinyTuna splashed around for awhile, and then came over to me as I sat in the lobster pot reading my book...

"You know what I like about swimming in pools all by ourselves?"

"What's that?"

"Well, there are good things and there are bad things."

"Uh-huh."

"The good thing is, that it is nice and quiet, and we can just be alone and have nice calm talks like this."

"Yep. That's nice."

"The bad thing is, there isn't anybody to play with since all you do is sit in the hot tub and read your book."

Remembering my soggy clothing that was drying back in the room, I decided that I wasn't going to take another bullet. I looked up at her slowly and said, "Well, if you're bored, we can always go back to our room and go to bed."

"Oh, no! I'm fine!!" She said quickly and splashed away.

"That's what I thought," I said to myself.

And so it went for awhile longer until they showed up. Father, Mother, and three children. TinyTuna let out a yelp and splashed over to the side, greeting her playmates like they were long lost relatives. The kids jumped in, and an absolutely raucous game of "Marco Polo" began.

I read my book happily.

After awhile I was finally able to drag TinyTuna from the pool. She said goodbye to her pool friend (a girl, approximately her age) and off we went to our room.

Pajamas on, book in hand, five minutes until bedtime....The phone rings.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Uh.....Yeah.....Uh.....I was wondering....."

Good Lord. It was the kid.

".....Uh.....Could uh.....Could You-Know-Who Come to my room and play?"

Evidently they had traded room numbers, but didn't know enough to ask each other their names.

"No, I'm sorry. We are going to bed now. Maybe we'll see you in the morning."

I hung up the phone and Gram looked at me. "Pool People" I said. TinyTuna's eyes got really wide, but I shook my head and told her it was bedtime.

Problem solved.

Day Two -- Pool People
Until the next morning at about 8:00 am when the phone rang again.

"....Uh.....Could uh......Do you think......"

I cut her off at the pass. "We're getting ready to leave soon, but if you hurry, TinyTuna will be in the lobby and you can say goodbye."

"OK!" *SLAM*

Pool People.

The next thing you know, The Pool People have set up camp in the lobby, eating their continental Raisin Bran. TinyTuna has absconded with the last chocolate doughnut, but shows the Pool People the lesser doughnuts left in the bin.

I'm trying to think of a way to get us out of here gracefully. I looked at TinyTuna and suggested that she trade email addresses with her pool friend, thinking trade emails, say goodbye, lose the slip of paper, no harm, no foul...

HA! I underestimate Pool People. Not only do they trade emails, they traded phone numbers and addresses, and told us exactly where they live in Illinois and the fact that they are coming up to Michigan over the Fourth of July and maybe we should get together and HEY if we are going to Washington DC, we should be sure to see the Einstein statue where it echoes back at you if you stand in just the right spot and....

Yeesh. Pool People.

Tuesday, June 15, 2004

Family Dinner

Vacation Day: 2 of 13

Days Until BB5 and TAR: 21



Week One of vacation is chock-full of visiting relatives in Maryland and Virginia. There are so many to see in such a short time, that I feel like we are short-changing every one. And unfortunately, we are. There are just so many minutes in the day and so many days in the week to see everybody we need to see.



But, we do the best we can. Tonight will be family gathering number one at a local Alexandria eatery. TinyTuna has a new dress for the occasion, and will be in top form.



One of our more memorable family vacation gatherings happened when TinyTuna was all of three-months old. We were eating dinner in one of those traditional "Washington-Ate-Here" kind of places. With hardwood floors, walls, and lots of tables crammed together, it was a very, very noisy room. Finally TinyTuna had enough and started to cry. I was about to rush her out of the room, when ye olde historically accurate guitar-strumming guy walked over -- knee socks, buckle shoes, powdered wig, long coats and all. When he started singing to her, she stopped crying and just stared at him and listened, with her eyes still full of tears.



Before you knew it, she was peaceful and calm, and the adults at the table were the ones with tear-filled eyes.



Hush-a-bye, Don't you cry,

Go to sleepy, little baby.

When you wake, you shall have

all the pretty little ponies.

Family Dinner

Vacation Day: 2 of 13
Days Until BB5 and TAR: 21

Week One of vacation is chock-full of visiting relatives in Maryland and Virginia. There are so many to see in such a short time, that I feel like we are short-changing every one. And unfortunately, we are. There are just so many minutes in the day and so many days in the week to see everybody we need to see.

But, we do the best we can. Tonight will be family gathering number one at a local Alexandria eatery. TinyTuna has a new dress for the occasion, and will be in top form.

One of our more memorable family vacation gatherings happened when TinyTuna was all of three-months old. We were eating dinner in one of those traditional "Washington-Ate-Here" kind of places. With hardwood floors, walls, and lots of tables crammed together, it was a very, very noisy room. Finally TinyTuna had enough and started to cry. I was about to rush her out of the room, when ye olde historically accurate guitar-strumming guy walked over -- knee socks, buckle shoes, powdered wig, long coats and all. When he started singing to her, she stopped crying and just stared at him and listened, with her eyes still full of tears.

Before you knew it, she was peaceful and calm, and the adults at the table were the ones with tear-filled eyes.

Hush-a-bye, Don't you cry,
Go to sleepy, little baby.
When you wake, you shall have
all the pretty little ponies.

Monday, June 14, 2004

Ridin' the Rollercoaster

Vacation Day: 1 of 13

Days Until BB5 and TAR: 22



Vacation has officially begun! For those of you keeping score, I will definitely get more than three hours of sleep tonight, which will shatter my record from last year. I think this year I'll be sniffing 5 hours, which isn't too bad, all things considered.



As usual, the day before vacation was full of running last minute errands, planting last minute plants, mowing last minute lawns, and trying to figure out what I was going to forget this year. Last year I hit an all-time high (or low): I went to the ocean and forgot a bathing suit.



Insert large Homeresque "DOH!" here.



Weather-permitting, Day 1 of vacation is always the traditional Cedar Point day. Home to a heap of roller coasters, it is always a good time for the Tuna clan.



I'll ride nearly anything. Emphasis, however on nearly. The newest roller coaster -- "Top Thrill Dragster" -- is a no-go. The first problem is, this ride is broken nearly as often as it is functioning. Not a good sign, in my book. Last year it was not running on our traditional Cedar Point day. We were told the problem was "some broken bolts".



Um. Yikes.



The second problem with this ride, is that often ye olde dragster doesn't quite make it up and over. So guess what? You have to do it again (and again and again) until it finally gets enough ooomph to make it over the one and only hill. Yeesh. And Pass.



Other than that, I'm good on all the coasters. Although I'm freakishly afraid of heights, I'll put up with them for a roller coaster. However, get me on a Ferris Wheel, and I turn into an instantaneous quivering panic attack. Too high, too slow, too long, too scary.



I'm also stupidly afraid of haunted house sorts of things. I don't like not knowing where I'm going. Cedar Point has (or used to, in the olden days) a ride called "San Francisco Earthquake". You get in a car and ride around inside this thing while buildings almost fall on top of you. I used to stay sane by turning around and watching them POP back up for the next car.



When I was little, I remember going to Disneyland. Aside from having a near-stroke in the Haunted Mansion (my poor Aunt!), I remember looking at the old fashioned cars that you would drive. Being a slightly slow Tuna, I didn't realize there was a track underneath the cars. When they asked if I wanted to drive a car, my eyes got really huge and I just shook my head no. What were they thinking? I didn't know how to drive!!



So, hopefully tomorrow the weather will be slightly overcast with no rain whatsoever. If so, it will be an awesome day, and we'll ride ourselves silly. At the end of the day, TinyTuna will get to choose one souvenir (AKA the CARROT to get us out of the park without tears) and we'll continue on through the lovely state of Ohio until we get tired. In the meantime, I'll be sure to give my regards to the goofball Turnpike Dudes KatJam is so fond of.

Ridin' the Rollercoaster

Vacation Day: 1 of 13
Days Until BB5 and TAR: 22

Vacation has officially begun! For those of you keeping score, I will definitely get more than three hours of sleep tonight, which will shatter my record from last year. I think this year I'll be sniffing 5 hours, which isn't too bad, all things considered.

As usual, the day before vacation was full of running last minute errands, planting last minute plants, mowing last minute lawns, and trying to figure out what I was going to forget this year. Last year I hit an all-time high (or low): I went to the ocean and forgot a bathing suit.

Insert large Homeresque "DOH!" here.

Weather-permitting, Day 1 of vacation is always the traditional Cedar Point day. Home to a heap of roller coasters, it is always a good time for the Tuna clan.

I'll ride nearly anything. Emphasis, however on nearly. The newest roller coaster -- "Top Thrill Dragster" -- is a no-go. The first problem is, this ride is broken nearly as often as it is functioning. Not a good sign, in my book. Last year it was not running on our traditional Cedar Point day. We were told the problem was "some broken bolts".

Um. Yikes.

The second problem with this ride, is that often ye olde dragster doesn't quite make it up and over. So guess what? You have to do it again (and again and again) until it finally gets enough ooomph to make it over the one and only hill. Yeesh. And Pass.

Other than that, I'm good on all the coasters. Although I'm freakishly afraid of heights, I'll put up with them for a roller coaster. However, get me on a Ferris Wheel, and I turn into an instantaneous quivering panic attack. Too high, too slow, too long, too scary.

I'm also stupidly afraid of haunted house sorts of things. I don't like not knowing where I'm going. Cedar Point has (or used to, in the olden days) a ride called "San Francisco Earthquake". You get in a car and ride around inside this thing while buildings almost fall on top of you. I used to stay sane by turning around and watching them POP back up for the next car.

When I was little, I remember going to Disneyland. Aside from having a near-stroke in the Haunted Mansion (my poor Aunt!), I remember looking at the old fashioned cars that you would drive. Being a slightly slow Tuna, I didn't realize there was a track underneath the cars. When they asked if I wanted to drive a car, my eyes got really huge and I just shook my head no. What were they thinking? I didn't know how to drive!!

So, hopefully tomorrow the weather will be slightly overcast with no rain whatsoever. If so, it will be an awesome day, and we'll ride ourselves silly. At the end of the day, TinyTuna will get to choose one souvenir (AKA the CARROT to get us out of the park without tears) and we'll continue on through the lovely state of Ohio until we get tired. In the meantime, I'll be sure to give my regards to the goofball Turnpike Dudes KatJam is so fond of.

Friday, June 11, 2004

Smarty Pants

Well, not too shabby, if I do say so myself. I scored a 9/10 on the sample American Citizenship Test and 8/10 on the Canadian Citizenship Test.



Thanks to John Scalzi over at By The Way for providing this Friday afternoon diversion.

Smarty Pants

Well, not too shabby, if I do say so myself. I scored a 9/10 on the sample American Citizenship Test and 8/10 on the Canadian Citizenship Test.

Thanks to John Scalzi over at By The Way for providing this Friday afternoon diversion.

XXX

Poor letter X -- It really has a lot of problems.



Sure, the letter W suffers somewhat from it's name: Double-U, or in Canadian, Doobluh-Vay, but at least it gets decent representation in the dictionary.



But letter X? Hardly any words start with X, and those that do don't even sound like X -- they sound like Z. What's a letter to do?



Not much, it seems. X is relegated to marking the spot, representing mathematic values, substituting for a signature in Old Westerns and providing warnings about naughty films.



It's not a glamorous life.



X also serves double duty as a short-cut. There are Hot-X-Buns instead of "Hot Cross Buns" and the usual slew of Xmas-related things, which led to the first Anti-X slogan: "Don't take the Christ out of Christmas."



X is the representation of the unknown. It is the quintessential QUOI? which in French means Vive la croissant, and in English translates roughly to huh? A perfect example of the unknown X is Generation X. In this case, X can only represent that which it is not, which is a cool name like "Baby Boomers." Fox gave us the unknown of The X-Files and CBS told us to expect the unexpected with the X-Factor. Although each show was very different, both were full of nasty creatures you'd hope to never see again.



But in honor of The Friday Chef I come to praise X, not bury it. So, for Food Friday, I bring you



X is for Sauce!



I like sauce. It doesn't have quite the same ring as I like cake, but since I don't like cake, it works quite well for me. In honor of sauce, I bring you two eXtreme sites: Extreme Food and Mo Hotta, Mo Betta.



Both sites have lots of different sauces, from hot sauces to BBQ sauces. As much as I like sauces, I like their names even more. Each site has their own "heat" scale to give you some advanced warning as to how many of your innards you will burn out with each bite. Extreme Foods features four settings (Mild -- Hot -- Crazy Hot -- !!!!!!), while Mo Hotta has ten settings. I am particularly fond of the last five: Sizzling -- Blazing -- Scorching -- Nuclear -- Grim Reaper.



I wonder how it would taste on a croissant?

eXtreme Quoi!

XXX

Poor letter X -- It really has a lot of problems.

Sure, the letter W suffers somewhat from it's name: Double-U, or in Canadian, Doobluh-Vay, but at least it gets decent representation in the dictionary.

But letter X? Hardly any words start with X, and those that do don't even sound like X -- they sound like Z. What's a letter to do?

Not much, it seems. X is relegated to marking the spot, representing mathematic values, substituting for a signature in Old Westerns and providing warnings about naughty films.

It's not a glamorous life.

X also serves double duty as a short-cut. There are Hot-X-Buns instead of "Hot Cross Buns" and the usual slew of Xmas-related things, which led to the first Anti-X slogan: "Don't take the Christ out of Christmas."

X is the representation of the unknown. It is the quintessential QUOI? which in French means Vive la croissant, and in English translates roughly to huh? A perfect example of the unknown X is Generation X. In this case, X can only represent that which it is not, which is a cool name like "Baby Boomers." Fox gave us the unknown of The X-Files and CBS told us to expect the unexpected with the X-Factor. Although each show was very different, both were full of nasty creatures you'd hope to never see again.

But in honor of The Friday Chef I come to praise X, not bury it. So, for Food Friday, I bring you

X is for Sauce!

I like sauce. It doesn't have quite the same ring as I like cake, but since I don't like cake, it works quite well for me. In honor of sauce, I bring you two eXtreme sites: Extreme Food and Mo Hotta, Mo Betta.

Both sites have lots of different sauces, from hot sauces to BBQ sauces. As much as I like sauces, I like their names even more. Each site has their own "heat" scale to give you some advanced warning as to how many of your innards you will burn out with each bite. Extreme Foods features four settings (Mild -- Hot -- Crazy Hot -- !!!!!!), while Mo Hotta has ten settings. I am particularly fond of the last five: Sizzling -- Blazing -- Scorching -- Nuclear -- Grim Reaper.

I wonder how it would taste on a croissant?
eXtreme Quoi!

Xtra, Xtra

Food Friday. Friday Chef. Featured letter: X is for X-factor.



From the website Food of the 80s: Entries beginning with the letter X:

There are no entries matching X



From the website About.Com: Home Cooking Glossary of Cooking and Food Recipes:

Articles coming soon



From the website Food Network Canada: Glossary:

No item (Not even in CANADA!) beginning with X in glossary



From the website Food Forum: Food Insites: Website evaluations

Nothing under the letter X yet



From the website Williamette Week: Food Finder:

Browse 0 restaurants beginning with X



From the website Hungrymonster.com: Food Facts Glossay of Terms:

Xanthan Gum



From the website Cafe Creosote: Online dictionary of of cooking and food terms:

Ximenia



Hmmmmmmm........

Xtra, Xtra

Food Friday. Friday Chef. Featured letter: X is for X-factor.

From the website Food of the 80s: Entries beginning with the letter X:
There are no entries matching X

From the website About.Com: Home Cooking Glossary of Cooking and Food Recipes:
Articles coming soon

From the website Food Network Canada: Glossary:
No item (Not even in CANADA!) beginning with X in glossary

From the website Food Forum: Food Insites: Website evaluations
Nothing under the letter X yet

From the website Williamette Week: Food Finder:
Browse 0 restaurants beginning with X

From the website Hungrymonster.com: Food Facts Glossay of Terms:
Xanthan Gum

From the website Cafe Creosote: Online dictionary of of cooking and food terms:
Ximenia

Hmmmmmmm........

Thursday, June 10, 2004

Ray Charles on My Mind

Ray Charles 1930-2004



If that doesn't say the blues, I don't know what does.

Keep them swinging up in heaven, buddy.

Ray Charles on My Mind

Ray Charles 1930-2004

If that doesn't say the blues, I don't know what does.
Keep them swinging up in heaven, buddy.

Wednesday, June 09, 2004

Parenting 101

Today's topic in Parenting 101 is: The Restaurant Balloon



The restaurant balloon is not a difficult concept. In fact, the restaurant balloon has wonderful powers. But. BUT. CAPS LOCK, LEANED-OVER and even BOLD -- BUT. You must know the magic word, and then you must use it. Several times, if necessary.



Are you ready for the magic word? Are you prepared to behold its awesome power?



~~ after ~~



There. I told you. ~~ after ~~ Nothing more and nothing less. Yet this one, seemingly insignificant preposition can make the difference between order and mayhem.



Try it with me now: ~~ after ~~ Very good.



Now add one more word: ~~ dinner ~~



~~ after dinner ~~ AFTER dinner ~~



With these two little words, the restaurant balloon morphs into a giant carrot, taming the unruliest of children with the promise of a reward.



~~ AFTER dinner ~~



But, if you don't employ the magic word, and the restaurant balloon appears NOT



~~ AFTER dinner ~~



but during or (even worse!) before, then you have failed Parenting 101 and must repeat Parental Anatomy 99b:



Having Your Head Examined.

Parenting 101

Today's topic in Parenting 101 is: The Restaurant Balloon

The restaurant balloon is not a difficult concept. In fact, the restaurant balloon has wonderful powers. But. BUT. CAPS LOCK, LEANED-OVER and even BOLD -- BUT. You must know the magic word, and then you must use it. Several times, if necessary.

Are you ready for the magic word? Are you prepared to behold its awesome power?

~~ after ~~

There. I told you. ~~ after ~~ Nothing more and nothing less. Yet this one, seemingly insignificant preposition can make the difference between order and mayhem.

Try it with me now: ~~ after ~~ Very good.

Now add one more word: ~~ dinner ~~

~~ after dinner ~~ AFTER dinner ~~

With these two little words, the restaurant balloon morphs into a giant carrot, taming the unruliest of children with the promise of a reward.

~~ AFTER dinner ~~

But, if you don't employ the magic word, and the restaurant balloon appears NOT

~~ AFTER dinner ~~

but during or (even worse!) before, then you have failed Parenting 101 and must repeat Parental Anatomy 99b:

Having Your Head Examined.

Doot Dee Doodle-Dee Doot

I'm delirious from shelving. I wish I could say that I'm done, but I'm just not. I'm nearly done, but I'm to the point where I have to switch out three different shelves just to get the one I need.



It's like playing the sliding tile game.



In the meantime, I leave you in the capable hands of



Mr. Softee Bobblehead





And while you enjoy him, you can sing his song.



Speaking of Bobbleheads, which is your favorite?



Jesus and Mary Bobblehead



George Washington Bobblehead



Spam Bobblehead (I didn't know cans had heads...)



Wigglebutt The Dog



Peabody and Sherman Bobblehead



Davey and Goliath Bobblehead



Oh, if only I had unlimited funds and unlimited space and unlimited nothing better to do with my time...

Doot Dee Doodle-Dee Doot

I'm delirious from shelving. I wish I could say that I'm done, but I'm just not. I'm nearly done, but I'm to the point where I have to switch out three different shelves just to get the one I need.

It's like playing the sliding tile game.

In the meantime, I leave you in the capable hands of

Mr. Softee Bobblehead


And while you enjoy him, you can sing his song.

Speaking of Bobbleheads, which is your favorite?

Jesus and Mary Bobblehead

George Washington Bobblehead

Spam Bobblehead (I didn't know cans had heads...)

Wigglebutt The Dog

Peabody and Sherman Bobblehead

Davey and Goliath Bobblehead

Oh, if only I had unlimited funds and unlimited space and unlimited nothing better to do with my time...

Tuesday, June 08, 2004

And Another Thing...

TinyTuna informed me, in all seriousness, that she also needs:



1. A director's chair.

2. "One of those great big cone things that you talk into and it makes your voice really, really loud. ("Do you mean a MEGAPHONE?") "Yeah! Because people will need to hear me."

3. A bunch of posters that she can put up around town so people will know when it is.



Uh Huh.

And Another Thing...

TinyTuna informed me, in all seriousness, that she also needs:

1. A director's chair.
2. "One of those great big cone things that you talk into and it makes your voice really, really loud. ("Do you mean a MEGAPHONE?") "Yeah! Because people will need to hear me."
3. A bunch of posters that she can put up around town so people will know when it is.

Uh Huh.

I'm Ready For My Closeup

TinyTuna is possessed.



What's new? Yeah, I know. But holy cats, this is NOT going away. We are on beyond passing fancy, obtuse interest, mild fanaticism and are heading full-tilt into rabid obsession.



What's new? Yeah, I know. But let me back up.



A couple of years ago, GramTuna gave TinyTuna Samantha's Theater Kit, which is just one part of the "American Girls" merchandising juggernaut. Compared to the $70 dolls, I think it's the affordable part.



At any rate, the present seemed to get buried in a crush of other presents, and it didn't get much notice. We put it in her bookcase and forgot all about it. Fast forward to now. TinyTuna rediscovered the theater kit and now I'm searching the phone book for practicing exorcists.



We are doing the play. Or rather, she is doing the play. She is directing, and doing a role. She has cast the rest of the roles and plans to perform Actions Speak Louder Than Words in August as a surprise for UncleTuna's birthday.



I would not be in the play. I am the director's "helper". I will be in charge of sound effects, costumes, and feeding NephewTuna his lines, which could be a challenge, since there are no dinosaurs, motors, grills or backhoes in this play.



She is currently typing a letter to the cast, letting them know who is playing which part, when the performance is taking place, and giving them a few "helpful hints" for being in a play. HA!



I just keep telling myself that someday all of this will be good fodder for the press. Or for my fellow inmates at the funny farm.

I'm Ready For My Closeup

TinyTuna is possessed.

What's new? Yeah, I know. But holy cats, this is NOT going away. We are on beyond passing fancy, obtuse interest, mild fanaticism and are heading full-tilt into rabid obsession.

What's new? Yeah, I know. But let me back up.

A couple of years ago, GramTuna gave TinyTuna Samantha's Theater Kit, which is just one part of the "American Girls" merchandising juggernaut. Compared to the $70 dolls, I think it's the affordable part.

At any rate, the present seemed to get buried in a crush of other presents, and it didn't get much notice. We put it in her bookcase and forgot all about it. Fast forward to now. TinyTuna rediscovered the theater kit and now I'm searching the phone book for practicing exorcists.

We are doing the play. Or rather, she is doing the play. She is directing, and doing a role. She has cast the rest of the roles and plans to perform Actions Speak Louder Than Words in August as a surprise for UncleTuna's birthday.

I would not be in the play. I am the director's "helper". I will be in charge of sound effects, costumes, and feeding NephewTuna his lines, which could be a challenge, since there are no dinosaurs, motors, grills or backhoes in this play.

She is currently typing a letter to the cast, letting them know who is playing which part, when the performance is taking place, and giving them a few "helpful hints" for being in a play. HA!

I just keep telling myself that someday all of this will be good fodder for the press. Or for my fellow inmates at the funny farm.

Monday, June 07, 2004

Chicks and Ducks and Geese Better Scurry!

Sunday afternoon we drove the Civic with the fringe on top out to BSTuna's ranch and wild game preserve to celebrate BBQ'd meat products, Macaroni Salad and Blueberry Pie.



The guest list for this culinary gathering included ten family members of the human variety plus:



One dog

Four adult bunnies

Six baby bunnies

One teensy new barn kitten

Three dozen or so newly hatched hen and quail chicks

One Green-Tailed Moth

One found turtle of dubious heritage

Sixty gabillion really, REALLY, REALLY hungry mosquitoes

Five Heavy Metal Frogs



Little NephewTuna kept himself very busy with the other males of the herd doing manly type activities which were mostly centered around tractors, engines, grills, dinosaurs, and the battle of the "strongest head".



I kept myself busy sitting in the shade and plucking bunnies until they were nearly nekkid. With her bare butt and her fluffy middle, Muna ended up sporting a jaunty reversed-poodle look, just perfect for summer.



TinyTuna, meanwhile, was in full-on Cecil B. De Milne mode....

...to be continued...

Chicks and Ducks and Geese Better Scurry!

Sunday afternoon we drove the Civic with the fringe on top out to BSTuna's ranch and wild game preserve to celebrate BBQ'd meat products, Macaroni Salad and Blueberry Pie.

The guest list for this culinary gathering included ten family members of the human variety plus:

One dog
Four adult bunnies
Six baby bunnies
One teensy new barn kitten
Three dozen or so newly hatched hen and quail chicks
One Green-Tailed Moth
One found turtle of dubious heritage
Sixty gabillion really, REALLY, REALLY hungry mosquitoes
Five Heavy Metal Frogs

Little NephewTuna kept himself very busy with the other males of the herd doing manly type activities which were mostly centered around tractors, engines, grills, dinosaurs, and the battle of the "strongest head".

I kept myself busy sitting in the shade and plucking bunnies until they were nearly nekkid. With her bare butt and her fluffy middle, Muna ended up sporting a jaunty reversed-poodle look, just perfect for summer.

TinyTuna, meanwhile, was in full-on Cecil B. De Milne mode....
...to be continued...

String Around My Finger

There are several topics on my plate for discussion, but right now my hand is throbbing from bashing shelves and my monkey mind can't seem to end its mantra of finish the shifting ... finish the shifting ... finish the shifting...



So for now I'll tempt you with what's up and coming:



1. BSTuna and her Amazing Petting Zoo!



2. Boys -- Is it always just dinosaurs, motors, tractors and grills?



3. Mosquitoes. WAAAAHHHHH!



4. Cecil B. DeTinyTuna -- Moses help me.



5. Commando Gardening and you. Ok. And Me.



6. Six days until vacation. Early bedtime?



7. The aerodynamic qualities of monkeys and butts.

String Around My Finger

There are several topics on my plate for discussion, but right now my hand is throbbing from bashing shelves and my monkey mind can't seem to end its mantra of finish the shifting ... finish the shifting ... finish the shifting...

So for now I'll tempt you with what's up and coming:

1. BSTuna and her Amazing Petting Zoo!

2. Boys -- Is it always just dinosaurs, motors, tractors and grills?

3. Mosquitoes. WAAAAHHHHH!

4. Cecil B. DeTinyTuna -- Moses help me.

5. Commando Gardening and you. Ok. And Me.

6. Six days until vacation. Early bedtime?

7. The aerodynamic qualities of monkeys and butts.

Friday, June 04, 2004

So Long, 4th Grade

In other newsworthy news, TinyTuna has less than a half-hour to go before 4th Grade is officially over for the year. It seems her class has been preparing for this day for quite some time, as I don't believe they have done a single math problem or cracked a book in several weeks.



Oh wait, they don't HAVE books. My Bad.



There have been parties for Safety Patrol. There have been parties for fourth graders. There have been Ice Cream Sundae parties for no particular reason and earlier this week there was Candy Bar day.



The deal about Candy Bar day (speaking of WHATEVER!) is that every kid in class got a candy bar. That is, If they brought one in the week before. Candy bar was the day they got it back again.



No, I didn't understand it either. And for those who are curious, TinyTuna's Candy Bar was a bag of Skittles. Because I guess the BAR part was optional. Candy Bar...Candy Bag. Same difference. WHATEVER!!



And today, for the last day of school, it is Fourth Grade Breakfast day. All day. Well, all half day, because they don't have an all day today. But you know what? It's the last day and I'm done asking questions. The reprogramming can begin tomorrow. GramTuna and I are going to pick up TinyTuna and have some lunch. We'll probably visit the Grill Dogs.



Who, by the way, make a mean Mickey-Mouse pancake.



So Long, 4th Grade

In other newsworthy news, TinyTuna has less than a half-hour to go before 4th Grade is officially over for the year. It seems her class has been preparing for this day for quite some time, as I don't believe they have done a single math problem or cracked a book in several weeks.

Oh wait, they don't HAVE books. My Bad.

There have been parties for Safety Patrol. There have been parties for fourth graders. There have been Ice Cream Sundae parties for no particular reason and earlier this week there was Candy Bar day.

The deal about Candy Bar day (speaking of WHATEVER!) is that every kid in class got a candy bar. That is, If they brought one in the week before. Candy bar was the day they got it back again.

No, I didn't understand it either. And for those who are curious, TinyTuna's Candy Bar was a bag of Skittles. Because I guess the BAR part was optional. Candy Bar...Candy Bag. Same difference. WHATEVER!!

And today, for the last day of school, it is Fourth Grade Breakfast day. All day. Well, all half day, because they don't have an all day today. But you know what? It's the last day and I'm done asking questions. The reprogramming can begin tomorrow. GramTuna and I are going to pick up TinyTuna and have some lunch. We'll probably visit the Grill Dogs.

Who, by the way, make a mean Mickey-Mouse pancake.

W Is For Whatever

Happy Food Friday everybody. The Friday Chef has wisely wequested W-weeks weally wonderful works weflect Whatever!



Let the games begin.



For the low, low price of way-too-much-money, you can buy your very own toaster. Not just any old toaster, this also doubles as a branding iron. To make matters worse (although I'm sure they intended this to be a selling point), when your toasted mouse-faced bread is done cooking, it plays the Mickey Mouse Club March. Gah -- That would be reason enough not to buy it.



"What's for breakfast mom?"

"Toasted rodent face!"

"My Favorite!"




Whatever!!!



Not to be outdone, you could also purchase this cookie baker. You guessed it, I bakes in a mouse face on the front and the words "Oh Boy!" on the back. A potential drawback could very well be that it only bakes TWO cookies at a time. (TWO!)



"Mom, can you bake some mouse cookies for my class?"

"Sure! They'll be done in nine hours!"

"Oh Boy!"




Whatever!!!



Finally, you could always buy (you guessed) a waffle-maker. This item surpasses the Cookie baker as it makes ONE waffle. Hopefully you are either a. not hungry, or b. an early riser so you can be first in line.



Whatever!!!

W Is For Whatever

Happy Food Friday everybody. The Friday Chef has wisely wequested W-weeks weally wonderful works weflect Whatever!

Let the games begin.

For the low, low price of way-too-much-money, you can buy your very own toaster. Not just any old toaster, this also doubles as a branding iron. To make matters worse (although I'm sure they intended this to be a selling point), when your toasted mouse-faced bread is done cooking, it plays the Mickey Mouse Club March. Gah -- That would be reason enough not to buy it.

"What's for breakfast mom?"
"Toasted rodent face!"
"My Favorite!"


Whatever!!!

Not to be outdone, you could also purchase this cookie baker. You guessed it, I bakes in a mouse face on the front and the words "Oh Boy!" on the back. A potential drawback could very well be that it only bakes TWO cookies at a time. (TWO!)

"Mom, can you bake some mouse cookies for my class?"
"Sure! They'll be done in nine hours!"
"Oh Boy!"


Whatever!!!

Finally, you could always buy (you guessed) a waffle-maker. This item surpasses the Cookie baker as it makes ONE waffle. Hopefully you are either a. not hungry, or b. an early riser so you can be first in line.

Whatever!!!

Co-Ink-Ee-Dink

Just when I was feeling a little down and out, I read this gem on the blog BoingBoing. Maybe someday I'll invite Michael Moore to come over for tea and scones. No wait, it should be mittenish. Make that Mikes (cool website, btw) and Pasties (Remember: Paaaahh-stees, not PA-stees).

Co-Ink-Ee-Dink

Just when I was feeling a little down and out, I read this gem on the blog BoingBoing. Maybe someday I'll invite Michael Moore to come over for tea and scones. No wait, it should be mittenish. Make that Mikes (cool website, btw) and Pasties (Remember: Paaaahh-stees, not PA-stees).

Thursday, June 03, 2004

Twins

All of life is like a soap opera. (Announcer: In today's episode, GreenTuna learns she has a twin. Who WANTS -- HER -- GONE. [cue bad-scary music~~Duh Duh DUUUUH]



It's not The Wonder Twins.

It's not The Olsen Twins.

It's not The Minnesota Twins.

I think it's more like Schwarzenegger and DeVito.



And unlike the movie where Only their mother can tell them apart, I think I'm pretty unique. A one-of-a kind Verdigris fish swimming happily in The Internet ocean. My twin doesn't think so.



I've even offered to place a prominent exit-ramp pointing to my twin's side of the web. I'm not sure how this will go over. Personally I think it would be a win-win situation. My twin? My twin refuses to play ball.



My twin does not deserve the GreenTuna name.

I'm going to call it JAN

As in Brady.

As in "Marcia Marcia Marcia!!"



Twins

All of life is like a soap opera. (Announcer: In today's episode, GreenTuna learns she has a twin. Who WANTS -- HER -- GONE. [cue bad-scary music~~Duh Duh DUUUUH]

It's not The Wonder Twins.
It's not The Olsen Twins.
It's not The Minnesota Twins.
I think it's more like Schwarzenegger and DeVito.

And unlike the movie where Only their mother can tell them apart, I think I'm pretty unique. A one-of-a kind Verdigris fish swimming happily in The Internet ocean. My twin doesn't think so.

I've even offered to place a prominent exit-ramp pointing to my twin's side of the web. I'm not sure how this will go over. Personally I think it would be a win-win situation. My twin? My twin refuses to play ball.

My twin does not deserve the GreenTuna name.
I'm going to call it JAN
As in Brady.
As in "Marcia Marcia Marcia!!"

Wednesday, June 02, 2004

Tutu, Take Two (Two)

It's been a day full of shifting and shelving. Pound those shelves! Move those books! Pound Pound Move Move Shift Shift.



Sigh Sigh



My goal is to get this done before vacation, so when I come back I won't have a half-finished project staring at me accusingly; wondering where I went so wrong. I think I can get it done in the next seven working days. Which, of course, means I won't. Yes Karma, I see you.



Today I get to leave work early, grab TinyTuna, and dash off to dance dress rehearsal. This weekend is Revenge of the Tutu II, which I'm certain will be just as entertaining as the first go-round. I'll have to pry her into two different costumes, each equally cute and yet too small in their own ouchish kind of way. They measure these kids in January, and surprise, surprise! They've actually grown in six months! But you must suffer for your art, right?



I'll report back in later. Yes, I have a few words concerning Miss Universe (mostly of the "oy" and "veh" variety) and I'm sure I'll have some dance tales to tell.