Le Monde de Fromage de Kate

Yes, I somehow sent FOUR, count them FOUR notifications about the post that details my everlasting love of Peeps® when I didn’t think I’d successfully transmitted any. Does that happen when I manage to be pithy or profound or droll? Nope. Peeps®.

I still love them. My ardor for Peeps® cannot be diminished even by my abject humiliation.

Now available in a sugar-free version sweetened with Splenda®. Festive new colours also for sale. And then there’s a milk-chocolate egg with a Peep® INSIDE. Visit the Peeps® website and you can learn how to make a topiary…

Let there be PEEPS® on earth and let them grow stale for ME!

I am now an OFFICIAL member of the Peeps® Fan Club! No one can say that I don’t have my priorities all straight.

Not everyone understands my deep and abiding affection for Peeps®, but I ask them to try to be understanding – at least for Easter.

I went to fetch Shirleen’s minute white dogs this evening because she and the kids have gone to the wilderness or a National Park or something (during which time she must wear an orthopedic corset THAT HAS ITS OWN CASE – many folks know how fond I am of containers, but that’s just going too far – but a she has to WEAR a foundation garment that IT’S OWN CASE – LIKE A GUITAR).

I decided to drive through Sonic (evidently “America’s Drive-In!”) to grab a bite and a gallon or so of caffeinated beverage. I chose Sonic because they believe in Happy Hour for CAFFEINE (not just caffeine, but I have my priorities). Perhaps I should have made a different choice tonight, as it was NOT Happy Hour.

It seemed like a very straightforward venture, but this is what happened: I drove up to the microphone and a male voice said, “Order when you’re ready.” The dogs were in the back seat making very gentle monkey-like “barky” noises, certainly nothing loud enough to interfere with microphone transmission. Nevertheless, when I said in my best “Secretary Voice” (long story – another time), “I’d like a ham, egg and cheese breakfast burrito,” I guess it didn’t carry very well. Oh yes – that’s another good thing about Sonic – breakfast ALL DAY. The guy said, “I couldn’t understand that.” I was a little surprised, I must say, because usually when you are inside a restaurant that has a drive-through the people making orders from their cars sound like they’re trying to be heard by an audience in a stadium without benefit of external amplification.

I repeated, “I’d like a ham, egg and cheese breakfast burrito.” This time he responded, “Breakfast frumlik rurfm schmufujm bacon eedooo pimentos.” I could SWEAR he said “pimentos.” Again, “I’d like an ham, egg and cheese breakfast burrito.” Then I decided to just continue with the order because by then I was using my very best and wonderful stage voice WITH SUPERB PROJECTION. So he began, “A Toaster sandwich with bacon and…” I stopped him. I PROJECTED VERY CLEARLY, “No, I want a breakfast BURRITO with ham, egg and cheese.” He started again, “Okay – a breakfast burrito with ham, egg and cheese plus bacon and an extra-large diet…”

“NO BACON,” I said firmly. Then, “I’m sorry,” I said, and I repeated the whole order again (see – I had to apologize so no one would spit in my food). There was a very, VERY long pause. Then I heard the glorious words, “A ham, egg and cheese burrito, an extra-large diet Coke with lime and a tropical yogurt and fruit smoothie.” The Hallelujah Chorus rang throughout all the world and I got my drinks (INUNDATED WITH BEVERAGES – it’s the best) and food and drove home with the wee chirping monkey dogs.

I sat down with the HAM, EGG AND CHEESE BREAKFAST BURRITO that I’d put on a plate with some salsa. I took a bite. Something was a little off… I took another bite – sausage. SAUSAGE, egg and cheese.

Is it peculiar that I felt slightly guilty at the prospect of eating ham during Passover even though I’m not Jewish? Come to think of it, I don’t think the sausage is sitting too well.

See Scout?

Dearest Pamela, my friend of many years and a few more, has the great impudence to suggest that she and her family are moving to Arizona. She has forgotten that IT’S ALL ABOUT ME.

She and I went on a road-trip there, once, and I believe her Parents, May They Rest in Peace, and mine (who don’t read this blog unless I show them directly) would blanch at the speed with which this trip was accomplished. Pam’s Father had once said something about which line on the road to hug in race-car driving, if that tells you anything about it.

It was early May or Late April and we faced formidable odds: A weird infestation of some sort of “Royal” butterfly (not Monarch) so you couldn’t drive about without getting HUGE insects smish-smashed and spattered across your windshield and grill and so on. We also faced simultaneous PMS, race-car driving in a “sporty” (that’s my Father’s designation – the car had a STRIPE) red Ford escort (an evil car, but it didn’t show it’s true colours just then), and when we got near the urban center of Tempe/Mesa/Phoenix/Scottsdale/London all gummed up together it was approximately 5,000° Fahrenheit. Thank God for the air conditioning.

Obviously, we survived and went on to have normal, productive lives thereafter (except for me). But I did not think Pam would MOVE there. Such is the way of things…

OKAY – to the burning issue at hand: Scout the Dog. Pam figures that Scout, being primarily an outdoor dog, wouldn’t do well in the pottery kiln known as Arizona; Scout LOVES seasons – you know – snow and such, and I’m guessing she would be AGAINST being baked alive (Pam’s REALLY smart about these things. She’s smart about EVERYTHING. I believe that makes her a SMARTY EVERY DAY!). Thus Pam endeavors to find Scout a good home in Utah (or, I suppose, the surrounding area). Here are Scout’s specs:

• Spayed female AKC (SN550188/02) black Labrador.
• Sire: Kerrybrook’s Son-of-a-Fitch;
• Dame: Westwind’s Mercy Perfect Tank
• Name: Tanglewood’s Scout of Mercy
• Born: May 26, 1998
• Loves: water, people (esp. children), food, fetching balls
• Doesn’t bark (unnecessarily); doesn’t jump [up on people, I’m guessing]
• Crate trained, but not house broken
• Free! (original cost: $300)

See Scout be SO PRETTY

Sounds like a good deal to me… I’d snap her up. But, of course, I have Kitten Children… And no home of my own…

Oh – and if you’d like to get a whole SET of To Kill a Mockingbird pets, I can help you out. First, head to Kansas and pilfer the cat of Charles and Ashley named “Atticus” (they’d still have three others). Then, head to Maryland and abduct my Brother, David. “WHY?” you may ask. Well, his friends used to call him “Boo Radley.” I don’t suppose they were trying to be very nice, but he is large of stature, gentle, quiet and puts things in the knotholes of trees (okay, as far as I know, that last one is a big, fat lie). He is not mentally challenged (miles from it, actually), but if you asked him nicely he’s probably act as though he was.

As for Jem, you’ll have to get a fish or something and name it as such. Then you’ll have my most favourite characters from this book:

So PRETTY PLEASE, consider a charming addition to your family. Remember: Dogs = “Man’s Best Friend” and so on.

And that’s no “April Fool’s” joke. Or perhaps he’s an ALMOST thirty-year-old April Fool’s joke… As I’ve said before, Little David (you ARE 6′ 4″ – I’m just sure of it – our height measuring party over the holidays was very unscientific, to say the least) is by FAR the nicest person in our family (and as I’ve said before, I cannot say TOO much or I’D HAVE TO KILL YOU – ha ha – some jokes never get old – well, to ME….).

With his birthday money, Lil’ David purchased the following item:

Super Cool Bass Guitar

David, I’ll bring my nicest ukulele when I come to visit you, we’ll get a pick-up for it, you can quit your job and we’ll hit the road. Julianne, you can play one of my rhythm instruments (egg, tambourine, one of the various drums, my boom-whackers (sounds dirty, but THEY AREN’T), my semi-professional (?) castanets from Spain or the belly-dancing Zils – your choice).

I asked Mom what our trio should be called and she said, “Big-Headed Cuties.” And she means, literally, “HUGE NOGGIN Cuties.” Dad thought for a LONG time and came up with, “The Bartholomew Bunch.” We’ll forgive him because he never watched The Brady Bunch. A second later he said, “Or you could call yourselves, ‘Heaven’s Angels.'” He tried to explain (OVER-explain) that one and I stopped him. I, personally, was thinking “Zicky-zacky, zicky-zacky, Hoy, Hoy, Hoy!” But I’m open to suggestions.

Anyhoo:
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LIL’ DAVID!

If you have, perchance, glanced over at my ever overpopulated sidebar, you might have noticed some new banners. I must admit, I’ve gone a little “affiliate” crazy. And it’s INSANITY for certain, as I’ve not made a single penny off any affiliation thus far.

Yet, before you think my current obsession is TOO loony cuckoo-bananas, please bear in mind that it’s at least THEMATIC. In fact, it’s cheese themed. If that’s not appropriate for this site, I don’t know what it (I really DON’T know what is, but let us ignore that fact for the moment).

I shall further explain (“You SHALL?” they ask, their mouths agape in incredulity). Oh, SHUT UP. Here’s the thought process: I am already an affiliate of CheeseSupply.com, where you can fill all your exotic cheese fantasies (NOTE: I’m not putting links for the sites for which I’m affiliate because I want you to use the SIDEBAR BANNERS; they are not just aesthetically pleasing, they are FUNCTIONAL). I am also an affiliate at BarnesandNoble.com, where you can purchase cheese tomes and cheese music and cheese films to your heart’s content (and if you think that I cannot suggest cheese music and films, you are sorely mistaken).

Now I’ve added some affiliations to make your fromage reference library complete. You see, if you visit my History Channel link (which also links to other A.&E. Channels, including the Discovery Channel) you could choose films or merchandise related to the world of cheese and cheese history. Very cool.

Then, at Sur La Table you can provide for all you cheese appliance and utensil needs that aren’t fulfilled at CheeseSupply.com. They have a wondrous and extensive collection of slicers and knives and plates and guides and fondue pots and more, MORE, MORE (wow – blast from the past that I shall not endeavor to explain just now). Lastly, I must provide information for your travel needs; there are so many prime cheese destinations! Until I instigate my “Tour of the World Through Cheese,” which would entail me getting my first passport and everything, we’ll stick to the more holistic but reliable travel guide – Zagat. For a low, LOW price you can get approximately a trillion reviews and recommendations (I am, perhaps, misquoting just a tad) for a blissful travel experience. Now you are all set!

I feel I should now mention the one negative experience in my recent affiliation bender. Harry & David TURNED MY APPLICATION DOWN. Nope – they did not want ME as their affiliate. I am, apparently, not posh enough for their tastes (this vendor who sells a product called “MOOSETRACKS” at greatly inflated prices). I was loathe to provide a link to their site, but I am a good web citizen – SO THERE.

Come ON, Harry & David; you have an OUTLET STORE. I have been there. AND I have been to your full-price posh mall store, too. AND I get your catalog.

Well, you’ll just have to get someone ELSE to feature your “Deluxe Pearsnapples and Cheese” gift collection. By the way, H & D, “Pearsnapples” is a STUPID term. It makes it sound like you’ve come up with some fancy new genetic hybrid and you’ve named it BADLY; IF you had a hybrid I think that “Apears,” “Pearpples,” “Papples,” “Applears,” or even “Pearapple” would be far superior monikers. As it is, you are evidently too POSH to accept me as an affiliate, and you are too fancy-schmancy to follow through and use the label “Pears n’ Apples.” Snots.

All noted turophiles know that it’s YOUR loss, H & D.

Another riveting Fact of the Day:

Shelta is an esoteric jargon based on Irish and Gaelic, and it is still spoken by tinkers and vagrants in some parts of Ireland and England.

‘Kay. I haven’t any problem with the idea of an “esoteric jargon” existing. Dialects and sub-dialects are used all around the World. Your garden-variety “esoteric jargon is not a surprise.

This is the part about which I am dubious – there are still tinkers? Vagrants persist, yes – despite the old-fashioned description. But TINKERS?

Tinkers used to travel about the countryside selling and repairing pots, pans, utensils and farming tools. It seems the whole Home Depot concept (or even the neighborhood hardware store) would render the “tinker” concept obsolete. Yes, we use the WORD as such:

verb [ intrans. ] attempt to repair or improve something in a casual or desultory way, often to no useful effect : he spent hours tinkering with the car.

• [ trans. ] archaic attempt to mend (something) in such a way.

But some wee wizened (they just have to be wizened, I don’t know WHY) tradesperson carrying wares and tools with which to repair a customer’s – uhm, metal things- in a cart or in baskets or bags? Would there be a donkey, ass or other beast of burden involved?

Okay, okay – several sources assert that a “tinker” is a pejorative term for “Irish Traveller” (not unlike “Gypsies” – another derogatory term used to describe the Roma people and other ethnic nomadic peoples of the world – a phrase sometimes mistakenly attributed to Irish Travellers), an itinerant people who still travel throughout Ireland, Great Britain and even the United States. Evidently they refer to themselves as “the Pavee.”

Upon further contemplation I realize that Johnny Depp portrayed a “Traveller” in Chocolat, which makes the concept VERY appealing. Nevertheless, he fixed doors and a boat and was very pleasing to the EYE. I still maintain that the whole pot, pan, utensil-fixing persona is extinct.

Yesterday. Right ankle. WAS NOT MY FAULT – there was a rug and I was discarding a doggy “pee pad” (which the poor geriatric dog had partially MISSED – thus there was a PUDDLE, too) and all factors colluded against me to twist one of my weak ankles and cause me to collapse to the floor (fortuitously AWAY from the urine). It was the more common “inversion injury”:

I don’t expect sympathy at this point. Oh no. I just thought that I’d take this opportunity to selflessly educate others through my pain.

For the second time in a few short months, I recognized that I did retain a few USEFUL facts from the myriad quizzes I took while working in health care (even though I resented them as I worked in an office setting and they were primarily about clinical issues – you know – don’t stand in a puddle of blood* and whatnot). I wrote the following comment on Terry’s site when I was noting that symptoms for heart attack are often VERY DIFFERENT in men and women:

Realizing I learned SOMETHING from the stupid certification tests they made us take when I worked for a hospital that I bitched about because I did “office work” and didn’t want to know what the “gray area” meant in case of a catastrophic disaster (DON’T GO THERE, THEY MEANS THEY ARE JUST GOING TO LET YOU DIE).

What came back to me upon this special occasion was the mnemonic device/acronym “R.I.C.E.” to be used in the treatment of sprains or strains. And what is “R.I.C.E.”, one may ask (other than the staple food of myriad countries)? I will impart this wisdom forthwith.

If you strain or sprain a limb (and you KNOW it’s a sprain or strain because there are no bones sticking out of your flesh or a number of other clues that you can look up YOURSELF that might denote something OTHER than a sprain), do the following:

• R – Rest the affected limb. No swing dancing. No line dancing. No Lamabada: The forbidden dance.
• I – Apply Ice to the area. You can use a cold pack (one that comes with a cover – MY favourite – or improvise with a towel so you don’t inadvertently play “Antarctica”) or a bag of frozen peas.Okay – pardonnez-moi – but what is it with the whole “pea” thing? They always say frozen peas. I understand that they are often handy – right there in your own home, and because they are small and spherical the bag is flexible and can conform to your injury. And they ARE my favourite vegetable. But what about CORN (or, as some people call it, “Maize”)? Are we being all “anti-starch” even for EXTERNAL applications?Don’t leave ice on the sprain for more than thirty minutes (or less) at a time. Like I said, don’t accidentally play “Arctic frostbite.” You can continue periodic use of ice for seventy-two hours.
• C – Compression wraps or bandages can help support the injury and prevent further swelling. Be careful not to cut off your blood supply to the extremity. You don’t want to unintentionally play “amputee.” Compression wraps – and afterwards even a brace of some sort (I’d leave Popsicle sticks out of this one) – can be helpful for three days or longer (especially the brace).
• E – Elevate the injured area. This also helps reduce or prevent swelling.I must confess that I initially forgot what the “e” stood for (Exorcism? Eroticism? Ebonics?). But I remembered all by myself. My Parents are very proud. They didn’t assist me with my Kolege edjukation for NUTHIN. And they know how important a degree in music is when it comes to first aid.

If you take the aforementioned steps as soon as possible after the injury you will heal faster. Post haste, I say! Over-the-counter pain relievers can be comforting (and stronger pain relievers MIND-BOGGLING). Avoid any medication that makes you want to dance or undulate or writhe uncontrollably. Oh – and rent crutches and milk it for all it’s worth, Baby!

Now you cannot say I never told you SOMETHING educational. And no, I’m not a doctor, nor have I ever played one on TV. Well, this one time I did play a woman in an “industrial” film who was exceedingly concerned about the fact that her friend’s child seemed to be running a temperature. I believe one of my lines was, “Shouldn’t we call a doctor???!!!!” Ah, the leaning in closer to her and the furrowed brow and the perfect emphasis on the word “doctor” – not too much, not too little – OOOHHHHHH the pathos. And it was all ME.

*I kid you not – someone said this to us at an orientation session during a “safety” lecture (I think he even further clarified that it was worse to stand in a puddle of blood while touching electronic equipment). He was a nurse. Admittedly, I NEVER – not even once – stood in a puddle of blood while I worked in health care.

Yes, I am always behind – sometimes by five minutes, sometimes by a few months – sometimes by YEARS (my window for becoming a professional athlete is GONE, I tell you). But you know I try to make amends (whenever the hell I get around to it, anyway). I’m serious. I’m still planning an entry about the Christmas holidays.

First, I’ll go with the CUTE little baby picture that I should have posted two months ago:
Noelle Claire K.

Born January 17, 2007

Sorry, Pam. Oh – and I suppose I should apologize to EVERYONE for the fact that I never get permission to post pictures of them or their progeny or their pets – whatever tickles my fancy.

And here’s a whole BATCH of cuties! My cousin, John, had joked with me quite a while ago that ALL THREE of his sisters and his Mother AND his brother-in-law had been featured in my “On the Lee Side” link. I pointed out that whereas they all had blog(s) he did NOT. I did say, though, that he should send pictures of his cute boys and I would post those:

Alex, Benjamin, John & Tucker

AND A Complete Stranger in the Background (He’s cute & also very nice, I’m sure)

So, if I’ve retained any of my Aunt Mary Ellen’s superb clarification of the “removed” versus “first and/or second” and so on when pertaining to relatives, John’s children are my first cousins once removed.

I must say, even though I have a somewhat better understanding of the concept, thanks to Mary Ellen, I must ask: Who came up with “removed?” And who or what takes them? And to where? I would say that from these same sibling cousins of mine that their offspring (I’m sorry, but the other side of the family is SO BIG – let me rephrase that – there are so many – that I cannot even keep track of my COUSINS let alone their children. THAT DOESN’T MEAN I DON’T LOVE YOU, B-side!) that perhaps they are “removed” because they all live rather far away.

BUT, that whole theory is RUINED because I did meet Harper, first cousin once-removed of lovely cousin Jennette and her most charming husband, Tom. Does that make her unremoved? Perhaps that’s how you become ‘TWICE removed – as they went home after visiting. That reminds me – I’ve got to figure out the whole tiny video thing from my phone because I have footage of Harper.

Ah ha! Plunder from Jennette’s website! Pictures of Harper and Elena – I guess they were visiting the West Coast from the East (Elena is the daughter of my cousin Heather, a distinguished barrister, and her husband Ammon, a distinguished professor – AND THEY ARE DISGUSTINGLY YOUNG AND I HATE THEM. In a nice way). Actually, j’deteste all four of you – you YOUNG SUCCESSFUL PEOPLE (yes, you too, Erica, even though you are too young to have a house and children – other than kitten children – and to be a barrister or the like). But in a NICE way:

Harper & Elena Play

Elena & Pizza
Come on, Urbane Intellectuals-
Where’s the macrobiotic gruel?

Yes, every day (precisely at 7:00 p.m. MST) I STILL receive the “Fact of the Day” text message on my cell phone. I used to pay two or three cents EACH for this privilege, but I believe that the cost of these messages is now rolled into my cell phone texting package. It’s a good thing, because they repeat A LOT. If I receive that “mushroom collecting” message ONE MORE TIME I do believe I might just have to send the Fact of the Day people some “special” mushrooms – ALL OF THE LETHAL – and each one TOUCHING THE OTHER.

However, everyone once in a while I receive something choice; a bon mot that tickles my fancy, or something EXTREMELY informative. I have been saving three thematically-related FOTD’s for quite a while, now, and I feel ready to share them with you:

• Human skin has about 100,000 bacteria per square centimeter. 10% of human dry weight is due to bacteria.
• According to a recent study after 6 years of use, 30% of the weight of average bed pillow is made up of dead skin.
• Wearing headphones for just one hour increases the bacteria in your ears by 700 percent.

Bacteria and dead skin – HOW COOL IS THAT? Some people think that Kate the Safety Dog is germ-phobic. There are times I have been NECESSARILY germ-conscious, what with Sarah being immunocompressed and all, but I would not go so far as “phobic.” In fact, I find these particular bits of information most amusing – like eyelash bugs. Oh – and those little insects (I cannot affirm if they are or are not technically insects, but close enough) that eat the dead skin off your bed and keep you company during the long, lonely nights – I LOVE them!

Spiders, however, are WRETCHED and FILTHY and are promptly sentenced to death if they compromise the sacred perimeters of my bed. SHUDDER and a half. If I had a perilous swarm of flies or some other insect danger, I might appreciate the concept of arachnid intervention. BUT THIS IS NOT THE CASE; I have no jobs for them. And, ironically, as we have a surfeit of “hobo” spiders here, they can just pack up their wee web bags and skitter off TO THE GREAT OUTDOORS.