Le Monde de Fromage de Kate

My family has been globe-hopping (state-hopping at the very least) like stir crazy rabbits. While I was in D.C. and Maryland and briefly in Virginia my Father jetted off to London. By the time we went to call him on Father’s Day he was in Houston.

In the meantime, Ashley and Paisley went to Utah so they could go to California with Ashley’s friend. And THEN, after delaying my departure date to June 20th, I tried to go home.

I missed my flight on the 20th. I’m not ready to discuss that yet.

I booked a flight for the next day, I was already packed, and Julianne and I even managed an extra trip to Trader Joes! Triple Huzzah for THAT!!! Because I’d switched airlines I could pack a box with my spoils (QUINOA, et al) and check it. Julianne dropped me off at the airport with at least two hours to spare. The sky cap agent actually let one of my over-weight suitcases slide through without the penalty charge (he got an extra tip despite the fact that he seemed to think that I was his “Sweetheart”).

I passed through security without a hitch. This is when I tempted fate. I went shopping. I bought some festive amusing crabs (stuffed toys, of course). Then I went to The Body Shop. They were having a sale – a BIG sale. The purchase of several items, including a container of body butter and a bottle of shower wash (with PINEAPPLE in it), sent the World into some sort of Karmic tailspin.

First, my flight was delayed. It was also overbooked. I volunteered to take the incentive and give up my seat, but they wouldn’t take me because they couldn’t accommodate my connecting flight (hah). So we were delayed a little more while, “In just a few minutes we’ll have a flight crew [taken straight off a red-eye from Bora Bora?] from their other flight.” Blah blah. Finally, we planed (well, you DE-plane, yes?).

That’s when the pouring rain started (I tell you – BROUGHT ON BY RECKLESS SHOPPING). The pilot announced a weather delay. It was a lovely change of scene from the gate to sitting on the tarmac. I got on the phone with the airline right then and found out what would happen if I and several of my fellow passengers missed our connecting flight (as we had a twenty minute window or something to that effect). I was told that if they did not “hold the flight for us” we would be put up for the night, as there were no alternative flights.

When we landed in St. Louis, I kid you not, there wasn’t a gate available for the plane. I called to see if the connecting flight had, indeed, taken off. It was an hour gone. So I got on the phone with an agent again, and as I “deplaned” I started to arrange my alternate flight and put on my “you WILL [nicely] give me equitable treatment” demeanor.

As I walked through the airport she told me that evidently they were already trying to route me to Phoenix. I asked if there were connecting flights to Salt Lake City there. Nope. Bonus sightseeing? Anyhoooo, by the time I reached the desk agent, I knew that they were to issue me an “interrupted trip” voucher of some sort and that they should find my luggage (ugh – hadn’t REALLY wanted to see if again until Salt Lake) and I was to ask for a manager to get a hotel room voucher, etc. Someone attempted ONCE to say that they do not comp rooms for a weather delay and I had my index finger in the air in my forceful “talk to the [nice] finger” stance and explained that it was NOT just a weather delay and that I’d volunteered to get off the flight and before I got into the rest of the gory details that’s when they started to fetch things for me. So and so was going to fetch my luggage so it didn’t go to Phoenix or Bora Bora and someone else was running up to the something to get the signature for the voucher and was bringing it to me, etc. The agent next to mine started to look very concerned. Evidently, she’d just sent someone away from the same flight with NOTHING. So they paged him and somehow found a few others from our flight.

They handed my new partner-in-crime and I hotel vouchers and meal vouchers and explained where our luggage would be and that we were to call on the “red phone” (ooooh!) to get a shuttle. Now THAT’S what I’m talking about. I’ve never been to St. Louis. I got a scenic tour of the airport and the Double Tree Inn (not bad).

My new friend, Herr Schauble (don’t bring up the painful umlaut excision that his family suffered some years ago), was extremely gallant and helpful with my ridiculous amount of luggage (helping me protect my precious Quinoa). Turns out he’ll work for beer. I thought it was a good deal.

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I have ALWAYS loved Grettir’s Tidbits (Hey – don’t look at me – HE named them – he could have just as well have chosen “Chunks” and still stayed within the whole “tiny pineapple” theme…). But March, in my opinion, has been a banner Tidbits month so far.

Stephen Hawking, Ira Glass – CODE MONKEY – the song, “Code Monkey,” is delightful, but please check out the other selections – two of my particular favourites are “I Crush Everything” and “Beds Hurt My Booty.” I really related to those songs; they hit me right in the gut.

Sometimes Grettir’s Tidbits are reflective, sometimes they are touching, sometimes thought-provoking, often HILARIOUS; each one is worth further examination.

I am going to share, however, the Tidbit that made me guffaw, chortle, snorkel and weep until tears poured down my face (I really needed a good laugh – I shan’t guarantee that you’ll find it QUITE as hilarious). Forgive me, Grettir, but I am going to include the text in its entirety. One really needs to get the whole picture (and I wish they’d INCLUDED pictures). So here, from the March 2, 2007 edition of the New York Times:

Swiss Accidentally Invade Liechtenstein

ZURICH, Switzerland (AP) — What began as a routine training exercise almost ended in an embarrassing diplomatic incident after a company of Swiss soldiers got lost at night and marched into neighboring Liechtenstein.

According to Swiss daily Blick, the 170 infantry soldiers wandered just over a mile across an unmarked border into the tiny principality early Thursday before realizing their mistake and turning back.

A spokesman for the Swiss army confirmed the story but said that there were unlikely to be any serious repercussions for the mistaken invasion.

”We’ve spoken to the authorities in Liechtenstein and it’s not a problem,” Daniel Reist told The Associated Press.

Officials in Liechtenstein also played down the incident.

Interior ministry spokesman Markus Amman said nobody in Liechtenstein had even noticed the soldiers, who were carrying assault rifles but no ammunition. ”It’s not like they stormed over here with attack helicopters or something,” he said.

Liechtenstein, which has about 34,000 inhabitants and is slightly smaller than Washington DC, doesn’t have an army.

There are SO many levels upon which this is droll and comical and damned entertaining; I couldn’t BEGIN to touch upon them all. Consider the staid tone of the article, the assurances from spokespeople from BOTH countries that we should rest easy and know that they had handled everything through dimplomatic channels and there would be no sudden war of the absurdly small country (with NO ARMY) and its infamously neutral neighbor. Afterall, “It’s not like they stormed over here with attack helicopters or something…”

And I must say this right off the bat; I personally maintain that ANYTHING that mentions Liechtenstein or, for that matter, Luxembourg is inherently funny (come on fans of The Smiths – which instantly makes me sound five hundred years old – “…a buck-toothed girl in Luxembourg” – that’s got to be the most amusing lyric Morrissey ever sang).

I’m sorry, Liechtensteinians and Luxembourgaroos (?) you MUST know that this is the case. For crying out loud, the National Motto of Luxembourg – in LUXEMBOURGISH, naturally – is “Mir wëlle bleiwe wat mir sinn” – which translates roughly to “We wish to remain what we are.” Indeed, they wish to remain a ridiculously small country (don’t worry – I’ll get back to the even more preposterously diminutive Liechtenstein momentarily) that is fundamentally amusing.

Liechtenstein is too itty-bitty to even HAVE a National Motto. And I still cannot get over the final sentence/paragraph of the above article, “Liechtenstein, which has about 34,000 inhabitants and is slightly smaller than Washington DC, doesn’t have an army.”

NO ARMY??? They have to borrow all their culture from other German-speaking countries (I’m not kidding) and they have NO ARMY? The way I figure it, if you have a population of approximately 34,000 you should have a specialized corps of at LEAST fifty or so combantants of some ilk armed with marshmallow guns (I already have my own – “Truly Ammo-licious!” – so if they ever hire mercenaries, I am THERE).

That reminds me of something: Am I the ONLY one who forgets most of the time that SWITZERLAND has an army? And they have ASSAULT RIFLES (unloaded, yes, but ASSAULT RIFLES)? Let’s see – renowned for a long and proud history of neutrality ≠ ASSAULT RIFLES.

Hold on, hold on – if die Schweiz did NOT have an army, then we would not have Swiss army knives. I have a PERONALIZED one that Janet brought me back from Switzerland, in fact (made in China???). I imagine, however, that the assault-rife-carrying (UNLOADED) army has very little to do with the success of superb timepieces, delicious chocolate or very discrete bank accounts. I’d also rule out yodeling, Alpenhorns, and those really big rescue dogs (someone help me out here – AH – Saint Bernards) with the little kegs of brandy worn about their necks – OH and of course, the CHEESE. I don’t think these are army things.

Anyhoo, thank you Grettir for always providing a much-needed laugh.

Oh – and BEWARE THE IDES OF MARCH yadah yadah yahah the Soothsayer blah blah blah. If everyone would just read Julius Caesar I wouldn’t have to go over this every year. Sheesh.

I just thought give you an update on my first day teaching music hour for Leif’s Kindergarten class (from which he was ABSENT today – Janet claims strep throat, but I think she just wants him to have as little of my influence as possible). As I’d mentioned in the comments to the previous entry, I couldn’t “WAIT to terrify a bunch of five-year-olds with slightly tenuous control of their bladders.”

Fortuitously, several friends came through with some excellent suggestions. Zina suggested:

You should tell the kids that that’s what happens to you when you do drugs.

Yes, INDEED. Though I’m not sure I’d know how to explain dangerous TOPICAL chemicals, such as thioglycolate, to that age group (even though I also ended up with the more (theoretically) sophisticated first-grade class as well – only TEN kids – private school ROCKS).

Jenny was MOST helpful:

Just wear a neckerchief over the lower half of your face and sing cowboy songs or “She’ll Be Comin’ ‘Round the Mountain” or something like that. Use the little sand-paper blocks for the train sounds, and dowels to make the horsey clip-clop noises and let them gallop around the room. And ALWAYS pass out some sort of sweets at the end. The point is to draw as much attention away from your grossly, appallingly disfigured visage as possible.

…I’m afraid that if you don’t create a major distraction the entire class will spend all of “music time” staring at your big ol’ sores with their mouths hanging open and glazed, half-horrified/ half-fascinated looks on their faces.

NOTE: I have expurgated her self-deprecating remarks (here, anyway) because she has not SEEN my current facial situation, and she has the visage of an angel, damn it.

Here’s an irony: I’d actually considered (okay – WISHFULLY imagined) using some kind of stereotypical “far east” face veil. You know – those mysterious ones that obscure the bottom of your face. AND, as in the movies, you must make bedroom eyes while wearing one and cast ostensibly bashful sidelong glances (surreptitiously imbued with unadulterated LUST and SEX) at attractive males. Oh – and you have to wear “harem” pants.

While I do have zils, I do NOT have a face veil nor harem pants. Moreover, I don’t know any old Turkish music (circa the Ottoman Empire). Okay – I don’t know any NEW Turkish music either. Nor do I have any ancient Persian songs in my repertoire.

I do, however, own a bandanna, as well as an instrument that makes a train whistle sound, claves, AND sandpaper and wooden blocks and I can ACTUALLY REMEMBER THE LYRICS to She’s Comin’ Around the Mountain. I can also gallop. So why didn’t this much more LOGICAL option occur to me?

Well, it’s because, as I recently explained to someone, “Kate Logic” has half the fat of “regular” logic. And logic “lite” (I’m not especially fond of that spelling/term, but it seemed apropos here) has all the TASTE of “regular” logic, but substitutions have been made in the ingredients for the sake of the health-conscious. OR, the product has been whipped and whipped so that it contains many tiny air pockets, therefore rendering a serving lower in calories. “Kate Logic” is like that, too.

But, getting back to the music class, playing “cowgirl” today would have been a rather inappropriate choice, as it turns out that today was “Native American” day. They’d been learning all about Native American culture and history, and when I arrived they were all decked out in headbands, “leather” vests made of brown grocery sacks, and strings of beads. Their endeavor to be multicultural and P.C. might have made “Kate the Cowgirl” seem insensitive.

In the end, I started the class by introducing myself, and then promptly acknowledging that that they were probably curious about my face, as I would have been, and that I’d had an allergic reaction to some cream I’d used and it had made sores on my face. I added that it was NOT contagious, no one could “catch it” from me.

Their response was less than “Ho Hum,” it was non-existent; they couldn’t have cared less. Instead, someone immediately wanted to know if I could do magic tricks (alas, not in my skill set) and said something to the effect of “wouldn’t it be cool if I could make something disappear.” (OOOOH! Like my HIDEOUS FACIAL LESIONS or my PERSONAL DEBT or my DEBILITATING DEPRESSION or – even better – WARFARE, POVERTY AND DISEASE THROUGHOUT THE WORLD? Of course he meant like a coin or a rhythm shaker…) And they ALL were desperate to know what was in the egg shakers I’d brought. For those who have not seen me perform with breathtaking skill utilizing my vast rhythm egg collection, they usually look something like this:

I made them patiently wait to find out. You’d have thought their little lives depended on knowing about those silly eggs. Ah – that age before you are jaded, cynical and world-weary; I long for the time in my life when simple pleasures were enjoyed so effortlessly.

Oh – P.S. We had a great deal of fun. The children were delightful.

I interrupt the intended disclosure of my Cunning Plan to bring you the following newsflash:

WOMAN WHO SKIPPED “PATCH TESTING” ENDS UP WITH DISFIGURING CHEMICAL BURNS COVERING THE BOTTOM HALF OF HER FACE. MORE AT 11:00.

For now I’ll merely say that I have something rather important to add to THIS list.

Anders is just over twenty-two months old. He embodies the innocence of childhood; His angelic visage, his adorable “chattiness,” the delicate way he holds a pretzel stick…

But, alas, under that charming exterior lurks something…darker. “What?” you may ask. Well, to be honest, I think it’s MOB TIES. This may sound ridiculous, but reports of several recent incidents have raised my suspicions. The first sounds fairly innocent.

My Mom is in their favourite local gift store with Janet, Anders and Leif. Anders, sitting in a shopping cart, spies a ball. My Mom hands it to him (which, as a Grandparent, is pretty much a signed-and-sealed contract to purchase the thing, whatever it may be – so good thing it wasn’t a LIVE PONY – NOTE: That dream was dashed last holiday season. Click here and see “Holiday Gift Idea #3). Anders looks adoringly at the ball and says, “I LIKE-A da ball!” Ah. Small blond children often do stereotypical New York Italian pizza joint proprietor impressions, don’t they? “I LIKE-a da ball!” he says again. “I LIKE-A da BALL!” He continues with this mantra even after said ball has been purchased (like I said – Grandparents – they cannot resist when the grandchild “like-a’s” something). True, taken ALONE, this all seems fairly innocuous (cute, but innocuous).

But consider THIS evidence: Janet, Erick, Leif and Anders were eating at the local family-run burger/shake/sandwich/soda-fountain/taco/cookie/deli-fare/ tamales-in-corn-husks/EVERYTHING joint. Erik and Janet were chatting, not noticing everything the boys were doing. Leif suddenly complains, “Hey! Anders is drinking my drink!” Indeed, Anders had stolen Leif’s fruit punch and was going to town with it. By the time Janet looked over, Erik was cracking up. Evidently, Anders had narrowed his eyes, pointed his little index finger right at Leif, and menacingly was whispering, “SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Yes, it’s funny. However, if that’s not the toddler equivalent of “You’d better shut you pie hole* or you’ll be sleeping with the FISHES,” then I don’t know what is.

Granted, since he still drinks from a sippy cup and isn’t potty-trained, I suppose we’re not in real danger of him packing heat or anything. But, if he starts saying things like, “I’m gonna make him an offer he can’t refuse,” or “…you’re my older brother, and I love you. But don’t ever take sides with anyone against the Family again. Ever.” – OR, worst of all, “It’s not personal, Sonny. It’s strictly business,” then perhaps we should be concerned. I’m just sayin’…

*Yes, “pie hole.” Very Mafioso, I’m sure.



Oh, the gladness for the natal day for not one, but TWO illustrious women!! A hail and hearty HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Grettir’s Mom, who is, among many other notable and wondrous things, The Laundry Goddess of the WORLD.

AND a hail and hearty HAPPY BIRTHDAY (and a SPECIAL wish for your mazel to be dominant!!!) to Jodi (you lil’ punkinhead) in her Jodiverse BECAUSE SHE SAYS SO!

And if you happen to think that this entry is fraught with clip-art, you are right. But I couldn’t go through over thirty pages of FREE birthday clip-art and not use SOMETHING (though I assiduously avoided the creepy clowns).

However, I couldn’t help but use this:

It may be cloying, but you cannot say it isn’t Fancy!

Oh HORRORS! I almost forget that most important new-fangled Birthday tradition:

GIFTS!!! MANY GIFTS!

Indeed, I hope that you both had a:

NOTE: The size of the each respective Birthday cake is in no way related to the sincerity of the intended greetings. Also, almost every image in this post danced about or twinkled or winked or frolicked (to the point that I am now slightly motion sick). However, having evidently reached or exceeded the “twinkly/dancy” quota, I cannot guarantee the consistent animated nature of the above-mentioned images. Also, when I tried to delete frames from the floating pink balloon animation (so that STUPID, STUPID I.E. could handle it – it couldn’t just automatically compensate like FIREFOX) then it wouldn’t upload. So it’s I.E.’s fault that the balloon is WONKY, not mine. Mind you, this should in no way detract from anyone’s Birthday joy and celebration (which, by Kate Law, should last at least a week after your actual birthday).

Some may be wondering how I came to be “Kate the Safety Dog.” Let me tell you: IT DOESN’T MATTER. However you are bestowed with such an honoured title – who CARES whether you are qualified, deserving or worthy of such a designation – hang on to it for DEAR LIFE. That is why I am also “Queen of the Genetic Universe.” FOREVER.

Back to my civic contribution.

Lady and Germs, it’s time. It’s time for you FLU SHOT!!!* “Hurrah and Hip Hooray,” all dependable and trustworthy citizens rejoin. “We shall schedule that minuscule amount of time required to have the injection forthwith! Huzzah!”

Okay, YES, it is your choice; it’s YOUR body and YOUR choice. But consider this: If you do not receive a flu vaccination, you not only put yourself at risk, but OTHERS, too. You will be a carrier and a danger to all those who are immunocomprimized or at higher risk from influenza complications. But it IS your decision. The fact that I shall henceforth shout “VECTOR! RUN AWAY – RUN AWAY FROM THE DISEAS-ED VECTOR!!!” (I should specify that I mean PATHOLOGICAL Vector, not mathematical or genetic…) whenever you are about is of no consequence. “Sticks and stones,” right? That should CERTAINLY be the case for those VECTORS with such little consideration for the health and well-being of their fellow citizens (like wee little BABIES younger than six months who cannot be vaccinated – I hear them weeping now – too bad your VECTOR ears are too plugged with contagion to hear their plaintive cries). But don’t sweat it, VECTOR (unless, of course, you contract influenza, in which case you’ll sweat profusely and I certainly can’t do a damn thing about it).

Oh – and you injection-phobic VECTORS (I cannot really mock the phobia part, considering the reaction I have to hideous, filthy spiders), there is the nasal spray flu vaccine (or “LAIV”) which is approved for all healthy individuals ages five to forty-nine who are not pregnant.
Thus hath Kate the Safety Dog spoken!!!

*If you already have RECEIVED your flu shot, all lauds and honours to you for your timely and conscientious attention to your own health and the health of others. I hereby bestow upon you one gold “cyber” star to be applied in pride and dignity to your forehead region.

Yes, I’ve been horrifically remiss. I’ve been shamefully negligent. I’ve been thoughtless and SLIPSHOD. “About WHAT?” one may ask. “Posting new and exciting material on my blog,” I reply. One responds, “I wouldn’t say you post ‘exciting’ material EVER.”

Please forgive the brief pause during which I kicked one’s ASS.

I must apologize to all those faithful readers (all two – THREE?? – they say optimism, even when misplaced, is worth trying) who have waited with bated breath for my next entry. Unfortunately, if they paused with TRULY bated breath, they are now dead from hypoxia. Wow. I suppose that means I’m writing for NO ONE. Then again, there are those who may argue that doesn’t change a thing.

Whatever the case, for you gratification (or my own) I will now supply images of three – I repeat – THREE most gorgeous babies.

I think should start with the most “overdue” announcement:
Lily Grace M.

Born August 25, 2006

In this photograph (taken September 23, 2006), she is pictured with her lovely mother, Rachel (who is the roommate from this entry) and her father, Joel (it isn’t that he’s NOT lovely, but I’m not sure how he’d feel about that descriptor).

And then:
Harper Elyse W.

Born September 26, 2006

I believe this is the second or third photograph EVER taken of her. Harper is my first cousin once removed (thank you, Aunt Mary Ellen, for FINALLY explaining that in a comprehensible way to me, as the concept of having relatives “removed” has always baffled me – I still need to make a chart of this information). That means that her beauteous mother, Jennette (in the picture, obviously), is my first cousin. And she liked to run around naked in our backyard when she was little. That’s how she sunburned her wee bottom. Sorry, Jennette, some things you just never live down.

And last, but certainly NOT least, I failed to report the following rite of passage in a timely fashion:
Paisley’s First Birthday

October 1, 2006

Yes, my youngest little niece is now ONE. And my PARENTS went to Kansas WITHOUT ME and didn’t even bring me a T-shirt. MEAN!

With the “Time Flies” concept and whatnot, I will blink and Paisley will be a nuclear physicist or an exotic dancer or something (just KIDDING, Ashley and Charles: I don’t think she shows an early aptitude for physics).

Last Thursday was CHOCK-FULL. Chock-Full o’ what (you have to use “o'” – I promise – even if it’s NOT “Chock-Full O’ Nuts”)? CHOCK-FULL O’ SURREALITY, I must say. But I shan’t go into all of that right now. Let’s just talk mobile phones.

Yes, indeed, my new phone is NAKED as the day it was born. (?) So much for my new MODEST – not TOPLESS – phone. It has a POUCH, because evidently it is a nascent marsupial of some variety. But, in order to USE the handset, one must remove it from the cozy safety of it’s pouch; there it is in a nude, vulnerable state (believe me – it is in imminent peril because I WILL drop it – not deliberately, but it will happen); it’s in DANGER, I tell you.

The Marsupial’s Pouch

Okay, secretly, I still think it’s SUPER-COOL. And, yes, I realize that the mere fact that I would employ that term means that I am, indeed, NOT “SUPER-COOL.” I don’t care. My phone takes WEE, TINY MOVIES. That is, I believe, why it cannot have “leathers,” actually. The top of the phone pivots so you can play mini cinematographer. And it takes a WEE, TINY Micro SD/Transflash card – so WEE!!!

AND I have a wireless Bluetooth headset. This means I can walk about looking COOL (or pretentious, I’m not sure which, but I’m going with COOL at this juncture).

My new naked phone is also an MP3 player, can take voice memos, plays TV and movie clips (I’ve been watching little snippets of The Daily Show) and can launch The Space Shuttle (the BEST one, you can be certain) from ANYWHERE IN THE WORLD. Okay, doubt what you will, but my phone can also be a SPY. Here is one of it’s possible disguises (I’m compromising National Security – but since it’s Monday, how could I possibly make it any worse?).

Oh, ye unsuspecting civilians, you may THINK it’s just a fuzzy-wuzzy lady bug, but in truth, IT IS A DEADLY PHONE. BEWARE: It may also be disguised as a teddy bear or a panda bear. I’m not kidding.

Just a few recent “life lessons” I thought I’d share:

• Those tasty bran muffins with apple made from the special recipe, though they are “free” or “one point” or something like that according to your sister’s diet experts, still contain oodles of BRAN. Consequently, do not consume them with COMPLETE abandon; you may want to pay attention to how many you’ve had (even if they were all you ate that day – wait apple slices, too – good – MORE FIBER). Otherwise, you will have a VERY “Fiberlicious Wednesday.” And this does not sound as good as “Fiberlicious Friday.” WAIT- gobble up all the bran muffins you want on FRIDAY because it sounds better – almost holiday-like. Oh, the FIBER!!!
• “Park City” really should be called “Golf Course & Kajillion Dollar Condo City.” More on that later.
• If you are touring potential venues for a short course (don’t ASK what insanity might convince you to do work for your Dad’s consulting company again; that’s a story for another time), you might think that the man directing you around the very, VERY nicest lodge (last in the day, coincidentally), would be offended (or at least frightened or taken aback) when you looked at the wide variety of trunks and large baskets placed about the beautifully-appointed suites (many of the pieces rare antiques) and commented at LEAST ten times, “And that’s where you put your dead bodies.” And about the most beautiful (and probably the rarest and most expensive trunk), “That’s the VERY BEST place for a dead body!” Also, concerning the largest wicker trunk, you MAY have made an obscure reference to throwing Falstaff in the river… Where was I? Oh, and THEN, with little oddly-placed doors you endeavored to describe how you and your friend used to assess places, if they looked likely, by saying, “That’s where I’d hide my Jews.” You know – if we went back in time (and to Europe?) and it was the Holocaust… We meant no disrespect; I suppose we were imagining how resourceful we might have been. Anyhoo, this will be the place you BOOK for the short course. The sales manager actually replied to my hiding place for “my Jews” (?) comment, “That’s the FIRST place the Germans would look.” I said we’d cover it with a big piece of furniture… And in an email, when you apologize for the possible offense of touring an EXPENSIVE, charming lodge and commenting the most exuberantly over all the hiding places for corpses, he will say you needn’t apologize because he thought you [yes, I] were [was] funny. It’s nice when not EVERYONE stares at you blankly because YOU ARE A FREAK.
• I’ve becoming increasingly fond of Eastmountainsouth (Hard Times Come Again No More – definitely the coolest interpretation of a Stephen Foster song around – especially fond of So Are You to Me – so short and lovely – and Mark’s Song – and yes, it’s because I’m MAUDLIN – I like it all, really) and Rosie Thomas (I’d have a hard times picking, but she’s got a great take on Let It Be Me – Farewell is haunting – try Let Myself Fall, All My Life or Since You’ve Been Around – her albums have a lot of variety) recently.
• A possible side effect of my newest medication is a “serious, sometimes FATAL rash.” Mind you, it’s very unlikely (you know – low, low occurrences of such a side-effect, but you must be informed so you can get immediate medical attention if you get any of the symptoms), but I am now obsessed by every tiny spot or speck on my body (and there are so MANY – I have freckles and moles and blemishes and bruises and whatnots….). And just writing this also makes me ITCH.
• The u-shaped airplane pillow I bought in Chicago (at MIDWAY were they don’t have the cool automated plastic that whirls around the toilet seat like at O’Hare – figures) and is full of small foam-like dots SMELLS FUNNY. It did not smell funny in the store, just later… It’s a pillow conspiracy. And I’m beginning to think it could be a poisonous smell.