that whole fear of plummeting out of the sky aside- and really, what are the odds of another NTSB disaster, based on the last 2 months of cardiac arresting pilots, faulty sensors, crappy weather conditions, and a lackadaisical approach to aircraft maintenance- the ritual of "what the hell should i pack for a bipolar british summer?" serves as my pre-boarding turbulence.
matching colours, that complement assorted temperatures, by coupling layers and sleeve length to appropriate footwear, requires the kind of thinking necessary to pencil in 3 crosswords that bridge each other. this may explain why i usually wind up rotating the same two t-shirts and a token pair of jeans that were worn (but not since washed) on the '6 hours of recycled air, flight and sitting in manky departure terminal chairs', and also why 2 down and 9 across- "5 letter word; the name of a mouse 'tom' used to chase in the hanna barbera cartoon"- are the only squares with letters in them.
should tradition prevail, then any effort expended on selecting and folding will be for naught, because the delsey will undoubtedly become waylaid on a luggage carousel at jfk, long after my arrival at heathrow's very own version, several time zones away.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Monday, July 13, 2009
growing pains
navigating 'the puppy years' feels an awful lot like graduate school; only 6 months in, and the prospect of another year and a half feels an insurmountable task. at 7 months, weighing in at approximately 15 bags of charcoal (or 3 days worth of turd collection), axel roams around the house like pac man; chomping on light bulbs, coat hangers and, to date, two cell phones. this is compounded by a tail that could be used in drive-thru car wash's-- strong enough to get three day old bird poo off the windscreen.
and while laundry duties are rumoured to multiply as children are added into the equation, i am finding that doggie mucous leaves enough reflective stripping on my clothing that i could easily lie down in the middle of a road and feel confident that the overnight fed ex truck would leave all of my internal organs intact.
i have also been under a misapprehension that my abandonment issues were more entrenched than fox news' credo that they represent "fair and balanced" coverage- snickering about podium diving tele-prompters is obviously super professional and journalistically unbiased. however, axel appears to be wholly unable to tolerate even a brief trip to the loo, without committing feng shui homicide all over the living room.
and the last remnants of "he's just a labrador puppy/hyperactive dead weight growing in his adult teeth" rose tinted schmutz are quickly dispelled when taking rielly for a walk; people come bounding over to pet her while she leaves a pee puddle at their feet, versus axel where, oncoming pedestrian traffic moves rapidly into the road, apparently preferring to take their chances with distracted housewives commandeering SUV's the size of a bouncy castle.
i look forward to axel's eventual- hopeful- maturation more than anticipating the 'apres asparagus pee'. and as he appears to be impervious to batteries, glass, chocolate, cellophane and a 3 lb bag of yukon gold, we discovered he is also (unfortunately) flame retardent.
Friday, July 10, 2009
sticks and stones
"what's the worst thing you could be called?"
[the sample group comprised of educators, social workers, and a photo journalist, all advancing into the third decade].
'kiddo'. found particularly patronizing when used by co-workers. perhaps it's the daddy issues, but i took no umbrage when "53 year old beer gut" used this term at the track while running "800's" (that means something that could potentially require AED equipment).
'honey', 'sweetie' and anything that can be located on the 'little debbie' shelf at the supermarket. again, any colleague that opts for this aggregate of saccharine nouns requires an immediate ostracism from chit chat about the most recent celebrity b-lister flashing her wax job upon exiting a limo. significant others- other people's significant others- should come thoughtfully equipped with sick bags for dispensing to those of us within earshot of their effuse exchange.
"i don't care about 'bitch' or 'C U Next Tuesday'." i suppose if it's coming from a peroxide blonde, sporting a ramen noodle perm, wielding one of jerry springer's chairs, then i doubt that it would be enough of a slur to stir me from a repeat episode of 'the real housewives of atlanta'.
'fat'.
and suddenly we are in the kind of tacit agreement that the US commander in chief's, circa. 1970, have wanted to happen on their watch, between israel and palestine.
[the sample group comprised of educators, social workers, and a photo journalist, all advancing into the third decade].
'kiddo'. found particularly patronizing when used by co-workers. perhaps it's the daddy issues, but i took no umbrage when "53 year old beer gut" used this term at the track while running "800's" (that means something that could potentially require AED equipment).
'honey', 'sweetie' and anything that can be located on the 'little debbie' shelf at the supermarket. again, any colleague that opts for this aggregate of saccharine nouns requires an immediate ostracism from chit chat about the most recent celebrity b-lister flashing her wax job upon exiting a limo. significant others- other people's significant others- should come thoughtfully equipped with sick bags for dispensing to those of us within earshot of their effuse exchange.
"i don't care about 'bitch' or 'C U Next Tuesday'." i suppose if it's coming from a peroxide blonde, sporting a ramen noodle perm, wielding one of jerry springer's chairs, then i doubt that it would be enough of a slur to stir me from a repeat episode of 'the real housewives of atlanta'.
'fat'.
and suddenly we are in the kind of tacit agreement that the US commander in chief's, circa. 1970, have wanted to happen on their watch, between israel and palestine.
Monday, July 6, 2009
i'm not wearing any underwear
"well, i'm wearing my granny panties under my bike shorts" was the response from my left, as we resumed watching the backside of the guy in front of us, who's only 'visible lines' were of his chiseled sinews through the spandex.
i went commando for the first time tonight (this didn't work out so well for the integrity of my bunk bed mattress the last time i tried it) during our group road ride, which was probably the only faux pas not committed during the 20 mile excursion through cow pastures and taxidermists.
despite ocd more pervasive than the latest robert ludlum at the border's express in jfk's terminal 2, the donning of the undies is more about not wanting to expend time scraping and chipping the crusty bits out of my chamois- girl's shorts look like a scalextric race track on the inside, that's a lot of grooves for gunk to get stuck in.
and while mr 'visible sinew line' can get away with sponsorship text across his arse, those of us, who are more glutealy endowed, should just stick with plain matte black, maybe even a bin bag.
coming soon to an REI near you, a new line of women's cycling shorts with "ride my ass" stamped across the buttocks.
i went commando for the first time tonight (this didn't work out so well for the integrity of my bunk bed mattress the last time i tried it) during our group road ride, which was probably the only faux pas not committed during the 20 mile excursion through cow pastures and taxidermists.
despite ocd more pervasive than the latest robert ludlum at the border's express in jfk's terminal 2, the donning of the undies is more about not wanting to expend time scraping and chipping the crusty bits out of my chamois- girl's shorts look like a scalextric race track on the inside, that's a lot of grooves for gunk to get stuck in.
and while mr 'visible sinew line' can get away with sponsorship text across his arse, those of us, who are more glutealy endowed, should just stick with plain matte black, maybe even a bin bag.
coming soon to an REI near you, a new line of women's cycling shorts with "ride my ass" stamped across the buttocks.
Friday, June 19, 2009
committed to underachieving *
learning how to play bohemian rhapsody on the cello and singing the lyrics in mandarin seems rather a silly idea when you can just sit on the couch for 9 hours and read the complete works of bill bryson.
as such, i found myself pedaling with the 'bunco' group on wednesday night's road ride, quite comfortable in the diverse ecto/endo/meso demographic. not one to strive for excellence, it was reassurance enough to see an abundance of cotton athletic wear, bike helmets that belonged in "free styrofoam cooler with a 12 pack of bud light", in the beer cave at the local petrol station-- and even a kick stand or two.
not unlike my performance on tuesday night 'cardio crack at the track', i am more comfortable hanging back with my new buddy "kickstand", dodging potholes (road cellulite being more hazardous to the long term appearance of skin than a gallon of haagen dazs), and not overtaxing the pulmonary artery, it's associated ventricles, or the city to finance an ambulance plus crew.
predictably (in much the same way, that drawing and labeling the different types of triangles in lower level maths class finally had me gagging for sines and cosines the next group up), i started drifting ahead towards the next set of pedaling bottoms. this in itself presents a new learning moment as i appeared to miss the "i'm going to move to the left, so now you ride up front and shield me from the bugs/take a pull" cue.
i have officially upgraded from 'bunco' to 'canasta'.
* "sandbagger"** being the more technical term.
** given the presence of spandex, ergo "saddlebagger".
as such, i found myself pedaling with the 'bunco' group on wednesday night's road ride, quite comfortable in the diverse ecto/endo/meso demographic. not one to strive for excellence, it was reassurance enough to see an abundance of cotton athletic wear, bike helmets that belonged in "free styrofoam cooler with a 12 pack of bud light", in the beer cave at the local petrol station-- and even a kick stand or two.
not unlike my performance on tuesday night 'cardio crack at the track', i am more comfortable hanging back with my new buddy "kickstand", dodging potholes (road cellulite being more hazardous to the long term appearance of skin than a gallon of haagen dazs), and not overtaxing the pulmonary artery, it's associated ventricles, or the city to finance an ambulance plus crew.
predictably (in much the same way, that drawing and labeling the different types of triangles in lower level maths class finally had me gagging for sines and cosines the next group up), i started drifting ahead towards the next set of pedaling bottoms. this in itself presents a new learning moment as i appeared to miss the "i'm going to move to the left, so now you ride up front and shield me from the bugs/take a pull" cue.
i have officially upgraded from 'bunco' to 'canasta'.
* "sandbagger"** being the more technical term.
** given the presence of spandex, ergo "saddlebagger".
Thursday, June 18, 2009
diner pour quatre
"i invited the oral surgeon and his wife over for dinner next friday."
apparently you have confused my compulsive behaviour about keeping meat in the meat drawer, instead of thrown on top of the bag of arugala and a cheesecake, for someone who appliques apple pies and is fluent in ironing. and these are not the kind of people who come over for a "build your own pizza from this fine selection of ingredients i have procured and we'll just work our way through a kiddie pool of cheap wine" night.
"well, it's a good thing you are so well versed with the gas grill and it's various accessories".
except the good doctor doesn't eat red meat, and his missus is a vegetarian (obviously not an animal rights one, as evidenced by the floor length fur she wore out to dinner in march), and we do not own a "dining room table". *
unfortunately whole foods has yet to develop a line of ezee sundried shitake steaks nestled on an artisan bed of flambeed orzo infused with a rustic pine cone pesto. the default "order the steamed lobster and clams carry out for four" is not going to work as they are "mainers", and my own one trick foo-foo pony does not meet the previously referenced dietary criteria.
i can only hope that one of them has a '6 month old crack head labrador puppy' allergy.
* "dining room table" being the litmus of achieving 'now we have somewhere to put a large silk table runner and centre piece to really reinforce how little we will use this overpriced pile of kindling' adulthood.
apparently you have confused my compulsive behaviour about keeping meat in the meat drawer, instead of thrown on top of the bag of arugala and a cheesecake, for someone who appliques apple pies and is fluent in ironing. and these are not the kind of people who come over for a "build your own pizza from this fine selection of ingredients i have procured and we'll just work our way through a kiddie pool of cheap wine" night.
"well, it's a good thing you are so well versed with the gas grill and it's various accessories".
except the good doctor doesn't eat red meat, and his missus is a vegetarian (obviously not an animal rights one, as evidenced by the floor length fur she wore out to dinner in march), and we do not own a "dining room table". *
unfortunately whole foods has yet to develop a line of ezee sundried shitake steaks nestled on an artisan bed of flambeed orzo infused with a rustic pine cone pesto. the default "order the steamed lobster and clams carry out for four" is not going to work as they are "mainers", and my own one trick foo-foo pony does not meet the previously referenced dietary criteria.
i can only hope that one of them has a '6 month old crack head labrador puppy' allergy.
* "dining room table" being the litmus of achieving 'now we have somewhere to put a large silk table runner and centre piece to really reinforce how little we will use this overpriced pile of kindling' adulthood.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
something old, something new, and a lot of things made in china
the next wave of weddings is beginning to ripple like fart water in a bath tub. now the 'second time arounds', and 'perpetually phobic of settling down' are finally compiling their own registries at target.
and so to detroit, for a formerly commitment averse's bridal baptism. or rather; a swedish-mexican-roman-catholic affair that was quite possibly longer than the first harry potter film. *
as with long haul flights, ceremonies that exceed the time it takes to read 'harry potter and the goblet of fire', should at least put the junior bridesmaids to work and have them pass out a few concessions. and considering you get two bags of pretzels flying from louisville to chicago, the volume and quantity of communion at these events needs to be reviewed.
in light of these supersized ceremonies, there is a largely untapped market to "rent a screaming infant". very few pew mates will ask to see evidence of a dirty nappy when your little poopsie is reaching the decibels only babies can achieve upon an aeroplane's initial descent from 30,000 feet. either that, or the muttering officiant in the pulpit needs to be replaced by the oxy-clean guy.
furthermore, guests have already spent more hours than airfare waiting for; a delayed 737/ $15 banana cucumber scone at the au bon pain in terminal 3/a cigarette scented pt cruiser at the alamo desk, and so killing time in a city that has embraced the dictum "bullets are the new body piercing", while the bride and groom drive to various scenic bridges/cupid fountains/weather patterns that have left a rainbow, to shoot several memory sticks of sepia toned olan mills moments is just churlish. meanwhile, your jetlagged friends have navigated the stinky pt cruiser through armageddon twice in order to find the type of chain restaurant that nails grandfather clocks, unicycles and football helmets to the wall, all to sit and nurse $15 drinks the colour of antifreeze, while dressed in freshly dry cleaned ann taylor loft for 5 hours.
finally, no one under the age of 68 enjoys sugared almonds in a net bag- even if they are colour matched to your bridesmaids' shoes. and no one 69-plus has enough natural tooth to aid in the mastication and digestion of pastel covered hardware. candles are always the more considerate option, because if they don't melt all over the interior surface of your suitcase while sitting on the luggage cart at gate D12, they are easily stored in kitchen cupboards behind the bread machine and smiley face waffle maker.
and for those who don't want to spend the ceremony-reception limbo sitting at the bar in TGI friday's, stalking a mariachi band warming up in the car park provides an alternative diversion.
* for nuptuals set in the motor city, there were disappointingly few crack pipe centre pieces.
and so to detroit, for a formerly commitment averse's bridal baptism. or rather; a swedish-mexican-roman-catholic affair that was quite possibly longer than the first harry potter film. *
as with long haul flights, ceremonies that exceed the time it takes to read 'harry potter and the goblet of fire', should at least put the junior bridesmaids to work and have them pass out a few concessions. and considering you get two bags of pretzels flying from louisville to chicago, the volume and quantity of communion at these events needs to be reviewed.
in light of these supersized ceremonies, there is a largely untapped market to "rent a screaming infant". very few pew mates will ask to see evidence of a dirty nappy when your little poopsie is reaching the decibels only babies can achieve upon an aeroplane's initial descent from 30,000 feet. either that, or the muttering officiant in the pulpit needs to be replaced by the oxy-clean guy.
furthermore, guests have already spent more hours than airfare waiting for; a delayed 737/ $15 banana cucumber scone at the au bon pain in terminal 3/a cigarette scented pt cruiser at the alamo desk, and so killing time in a city that has embraced the dictum "bullets are the new body piercing", while the bride and groom drive to various scenic bridges/cupid fountains/weather patterns that have left a rainbow, to shoot several memory sticks of sepia toned olan mills moments is just churlish. meanwhile, your jetlagged friends have navigated the stinky pt cruiser through armageddon twice in order to find the type of chain restaurant that nails grandfather clocks, unicycles and football helmets to the wall, all to sit and nurse $15 drinks the colour of antifreeze, while dressed in freshly dry cleaned ann taylor loft for 5 hours.
finally, no one under the age of 68 enjoys sugared almonds in a net bag- even if they are colour matched to your bridesmaids' shoes. and no one 69-plus has enough natural tooth to aid in the mastication and digestion of pastel covered hardware. candles are always the more considerate option, because if they don't melt all over the interior surface of your suitcase while sitting on the luggage cart at gate D12, they are easily stored in kitchen cupboards behind the bread machine and smiley face waffle maker.
and for those who don't want to spend the ceremony-reception limbo sitting at the bar in TGI friday's, stalking a mariachi band warming up in the car park provides an alternative diversion.
* for nuptuals set in the motor city, there were disappointingly few crack pipe centre pieces.
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