I am spending the Thanksgiving holiday with my mother in Clearlake. For those of you who aren't familiar with the area, it's north of the Napa Valley and there isn't a whole lot here. But there is a huge lake (the largest in California, actually) and some interesting folks.
For some insane reason, I decided to go to the WalMart Black Friday sale this morning. At 5 am. My mom was going to go with me, but her heart clearly wasn't in it, and I sent her back to bed. Off I went, driving in the fog, and I arrived at the closest WalMart (about 20 minutes away) at 4:47 to find a huge line of people already standing outside the store. As I had left the house, my mother admonished me that "there are people around here who aren't from trailers" (my mom is an example of one of them) but I didn't WANT to stand in line with a bunch of classy people. If I get out of bed at 4 am to go to a WalMart, I want to be entertained by some hicks, dammit!
As I trudged along the line to get to the end, the first thing I heard was a woman saying, "You're lighting your damn jacket on fire!" and I looked over to see a guy batting at his jacket while a lit cigarette dangled from his mouth and a match fluttered to the ground. My wish had been granted.
So, I stood in line for about 15 minutes and learned some cool stuff. If you are "a total broke SOB" you are lucky because people do not ask to borrow money from you. It pays to bring your entire family to a sale like this, give each person a cart, and then plan a strategy of "divide and conquer" so as to get as many great sale items as possible. Somebody's Aunt Irene is going to really get her "come-upance" soon because Uncle Jack isn't going to stand for her drama any more.
Damn, just as I was really getting into the story about Aunt Irene, the line moved because the doors were opening. And then I realized some other cool stuff. The line was really organized, and almost nobody tried to line jump. A really nice woman who was about six feet tall and I joined forces at the huge bin of sheet sets: I found her a king set in every color, and she used her long arms to grab me the one set of full sheets there was because I just couldn't reach it (might I say this was for my mother, who didn't want to come with me! Hah!) A lady who rolled by with a BlueRay player in her cart gave me really good directions on where to find them (I got the very last one). Nobody pushed or shoved, everyone was in a decent mood, and I was out of the store by 5:23 am with everything I had gone there for.
The only thing that I wish I had now is the rest of that story about Aunt Irene....
Friday, November 28, 2008
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
How??
Today, one day after our elections, I am completely proud to be an American and totally ashamed of my fellow Californians.
HOW can people in this state forget that our constitution is not a religious instrument?
HOW can we inject our religious beliefs into dictating other people's lifestyles and freedoms (or lack thereof)?
HOW could churches, who are there to support and uphold people, give so much money to taking away the rights of people who are doing them NO wrongs?
HOW can I ever set foot in a roman catholic church again, knowing that those people's money was instrumental (along with mormons, fundamentalist christians [I can't even bring myself to use capital letters here], and other churches), in negating my sisters' marriage, a union that is strong, and beautiful, and a glorious celebration of their love for each other?
HOW can I ever, ever apologize enough to Paula, Julie, Jacqueline, Melissa, Jill, Barb, and scores of others for the absolute close-minded pig-headedness born of some unnamed and stupid (yes, stupid!) fear held by people who profess love and acceptance every Sunday and then go home to promote hatred and discrimination?
God help us, people, because my God, a God who is merciful, and loving, and giving, and perfect, wasn't behind this campaign of moronic hatred.
Shame on us.
HOW can people in this state forget that our constitution is not a religious instrument?
HOW can we inject our religious beliefs into dictating other people's lifestyles and freedoms (or lack thereof)?
HOW could churches, who are there to support and uphold people, give so much money to taking away the rights of people who are doing them NO wrongs?
HOW can I ever set foot in a roman catholic church again, knowing that those people's money was instrumental (along with mormons, fundamentalist christians [I can't even bring myself to use capital letters here], and other churches), in negating my sisters' marriage, a union that is strong, and beautiful, and a glorious celebration of their love for each other?
HOW can I ever, ever apologize enough to Paula, Julie, Jacqueline, Melissa, Jill, Barb, and scores of others for the absolute close-minded pig-headedness born of some unnamed and stupid (yes, stupid!) fear held by people who profess love and acceptance every Sunday and then go home to promote hatred and discrimination?
God help us, people, because my God, a God who is merciful, and loving, and giving, and perfect, wasn't behind this campaign of moronic hatred.
Shame on us.
Monday, October 20, 2008
England (Not) and Home
So, after my one hour of sleep my last night in Copenhagen, I woke up feeling really ill. I knew that I needed to be home where I had my own bed and a massive bottle of antibiotics, so the following ensued:
I got to Heathrow and BEGGED the United ticket counter to get me home. They did. And kept my upgrades. I love them.
I got disconnected three times while trying to call to cancel my hotel reservations, after which I couldn't use that credit card in the pay phone any more, so had to dig out another one and read it to the operator. I noticed that some guy a couple pay phones away was paying way more attention than he should be, and looking suspicious. Hmmmm
I ran to the gate just as my plane was finishing boarding and got my seat (yay).
I got home, took a megadose of Cipro, and slept for a day.
I got called by Wells Fargo that the jerk in Heathrow had, indeed, stolen my credit card number and was trying to use it over and over for long-distance phone calls. Wells Fargo denied every single bogus charge. I love them, too.
So, now a few weeks have passed, and I am back to work on my contract and thinking about the holidays. Life is good, and my fingers are exhausted from updating my blog all afternoon. More news as it breaks. Thanks for reading!
I got to Heathrow and BEGGED the United ticket counter to get me home. They did. And kept my upgrades. I love them.
I got disconnected three times while trying to call to cancel my hotel reservations, after which I couldn't use that credit card in the pay phone any more, so had to dig out another one and read it to the operator. I noticed that some guy a couple pay phones away was paying way more attention than he should be, and looking suspicious. Hmmmm
I ran to the gate just as my plane was finishing boarding and got my seat (yay).
I got home, took a megadose of Cipro, and slept for a day.
I got called by Wells Fargo that the jerk in Heathrow had, indeed, stolen my credit card number and was trying to use it over and over for long-distance phone calls. Wells Fargo denied every single bogus charge. I love them, too.
So, now a few weeks have passed, and I am back to work on my contract and thinking about the holidays. Life is good, and my fingers are exhausted from updating my blog all afternoon. More news as it breaks. Thanks for reading!
Sunday, October 19, 2008
At Last, Copenhagen
So, on to the reason I booked this month-long journey in the first place: to see Sara speak at the Internet Research conference in Copenhagen.
Sara was on a panel of four speakers, all of whom (except Sara) are PhD'd academics. They were boring, I have to tell you. And no, I am not being objective, but a couple other people told me the same thing. Sara is a natural speaker (I wonder where she gets that from?) and did an incredible job not only speaking but also being the moderator for her panel.
She's well-organized, brilliant, personable, and wonderful. Ask anyone who was there. Really.
So, after seeing Sara, the rest of Copenhagen was fairly anti-climactic. It was horrifically expensive; lunch was never less than $20, and dinners were astronomical. I felt lucky to get a tiny hotel room for only about $150 per night. Definitely not a place I would like to go back to, but I'm glad I came to see my munchkin speak. (Sara, can you please do a conference in Fiji next time?)
Oh yeah, poker balance at the end of all this: Janine $11,220, Val $10,840. He's catching up, folks...
To top off my Copenhagen experience, I got exactly one hour of sleep my last night there, because a) some idiot was singing at the top of his drunken lungs in the street and b) I was getting sick. Not fun.
Sara was on a panel of four speakers, all of whom (except Sara) are PhD'd academics. They were boring, I have to tell you. And no, I am not being objective, but a couple other people told me the same thing. Sara is a natural speaker (I wonder where she gets that from?) and did an incredible job not only speaking but also being the moderator for her panel.
She's well-organized, brilliant, personable, and wonderful. Ask anyone who was there. Really.
So, after seeing Sara, the rest of Copenhagen was fairly anti-climactic. It was horrifically expensive; lunch was never less than $20, and dinners were astronomical. I felt lucky to get a tiny hotel room for only about $150 per night. Definitely not a place I would like to go back to, but I'm glad I came to see my munchkin speak. (Sara, can you please do a conference in Fiji next time?)
Oh yeah, poker balance at the end of all this: Janine $11,220, Val $10,840. He's catching up, folks...
To top off my Copenhagen experience, I got exactly one hour of sleep my last night there, because a) some idiot was singing at the top of his drunken lungs in the street and b) I was getting sick. Not fun.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Berlin
So, in Berlin we stayed in a hostel. But, the room we had was more like a studio apartment, had a great bathroom, a working kitchen, eating area, sitting area, balcony overlooking the city - in short, it was a great hotel room at hostel prices. Yay for Wombat's City Hostel!
Things of note that happened in Berlin:
When stopping to offer to take a picture of a large group of girls from Italy, one of them began to talk to us about the most-discussed subject (our election) and they really wanted to know if it was true that Obama was a Muslim! Amazing that rumors and crappy journalism reach so far so fast. I set them straight...
The wall is mostly gone, but you can buy pieces of it in museums, souvenir shops, and from street vendors. However, those pieces are pretty much manufactured in China, so no more authentic pieces are really being sold. If you want one, you'll have to go to the East Side Gallery on your own, preferably after dark, and break a piece off while nobody is looking. I would never do that. Never.
Berlin is built mostly in a very dull, gray, concrete-block style - especially the eastern part of the city, where we were staying. Still, it has a character all its own. The people are great, it's very much like San Francisco as far as being very funky in spots, and it has....shawarma! This middle-eastern staple has become the number one fast food in Germany, and oh how glad I am! It's fantastic, and cheap, and I love it.
I decided one day to take a day to myself and go see Sachsenhausen, a concentration camp located some miles north of Berlin. To do this, I had to take two different metro lines and a train, but it was worth the trip. While waiting for my second metro, I felt a hand going into my jacket pocket and stared right into the eyes of a pickpocket as I pushed his hand away. The truly surprising thing is that the guy same BACK at me and tried again! At this point, I pulled out my pocket contents (a used kleenex) and offered it to him. He walked away, totally unashamed. Sheesh.
I did prove to myself, with my day trip out of Berlin, that I can get around on my own when necessary. Of course, the train and metro systems in Germany are fantastic, and always on time. Believe me, when they say the train leaves at 13:56, it LEAVES at 13:56. The doors will close on your ass if you are late. Be on time!
Oh yes, and I also fell in love with some sort of pastry in the bakery near our hostel that was filled with pudding (the pastry, not the hostel; sorry for misplacing my modifiers). I am seriously going to have to go on a diet when I get home, but for now I am ON VACATION!!!
Things of note that happened in Berlin:
When stopping to offer to take a picture of a large group of girls from Italy, one of them began to talk to us about the most-discussed subject (our election) and they really wanted to know if it was true that Obama was a Muslim! Amazing that rumors and crappy journalism reach so far so fast. I set them straight...
The wall is mostly gone, but you can buy pieces of it in museums, souvenir shops, and from street vendors. However, those pieces are pretty much manufactured in China, so no more authentic pieces are really being sold. If you want one, you'll have to go to the East Side Gallery on your own, preferably after dark, and break a piece off while nobody is looking. I would never do that. Never.
Berlin is built mostly in a very dull, gray, concrete-block style - especially the eastern part of the city, where we were staying. Still, it has a character all its own. The people are great, it's very much like San Francisco as far as being very funky in spots, and it has....shawarma! This middle-eastern staple has become the number one fast food in Germany, and oh how glad I am! It's fantastic, and cheap, and I love it.
I decided one day to take a day to myself and go see Sachsenhausen, a concentration camp located some miles north of Berlin. To do this, I had to take two different metro lines and a train, but it was worth the trip. While waiting for my second metro, I felt a hand going into my jacket pocket and stared right into the eyes of a pickpocket as I pushed his hand away. The truly surprising thing is that the guy same BACK at me and tried again! At this point, I pulled out my pocket contents (a used kleenex) and offered it to him. He walked away, totally unashamed. Sheesh.
I did prove to myself, with my day trip out of Berlin, that I can get around on my own when necessary. Of course, the train and metro systems in Germany are fantastic, and always on time. Believe me, when they say the train leaves at 13:56, it LEAVES at 13:56. The doors will close on your ass if you are late. Be on time!
Oh yes, and I also fell in love with some sort of pastry in the bakery near our hostel that was filled with pudding (the pastry, not the hostel; sorry for misplacing my modifiers). I am seriously going to have to go on a diet when I get home, but for now I am ON VACATION!!!
Friday, October 17, 2008
Prague
Prague is great; it has lots of history, lots to see and do, and best of all...DUMPLINGS!! I love them. I love what the Czechs call "sweet and sour beef" (which is what we think of as beef stroganoff). I love all this heavy, rich food. Yay for Czech food!
Of course, we are limited by the fact that Val's sisters and niece really don't like to sample "exotic" food so we are eating at places like TGIFriday's, but I am also finding places that have chicken and french fries but also have traditional Czech food as well. There's something so comforting and wonderful about having huge bread dumplings soaking up enormous quantities of stroganoff-like sauce..mmmmmmmmmm.
Prague is a very musical city, but sometimes it's hilarious. Our first evening here, we got talked into going to a "concert" of popular hits from musicals. Sounds good, but it only involved three people: a pianist, a singer, and a guy who played the sax. In addition to the oddness of that, he singer and the pianist (both female) clearly did not like each other. Oh yeah, and the singer had this very loud soprano voice that was clearly classically trained. This would have been great in an opera, but not so much for singing, "I Feel Pretty." To top it off, she also did not speak English, but had obviously memorized the English words (or the sounds of the English words) as well as she could. But, in some cases, what came out were new and innovative lyrics that had never been heard before (or since). There were a few moments where I wanted to laugh out loud, but held it in. To make it worse, I looked over at Val and he clearly was perplexed as to why we were even there! It could only have been more funny if the singer had launched into a rendition of "Puff the Magic Dragon." Thankfully, that didn't happen. I was able to maintain my composure and, soon enough, we were back out on the cool nighttime streets of Prague.
Of course, we are limited by the fact that Val's sisters and niece really don't like to sample "exotic" food so we are eating at places like TGIFriday's, but I am also finding places that have chicken and french fries but also have traditional Czech food as well. There's something so comforting and wonderful about having huge bread dumplings soaking up enormous quantities of stroganoff-like sauce..mmmmmmmmmm.
Prague is a very musical city, but sometimes it's hilarious. Our first evening here, we got talked into going to a "concert" of popular hits from musicals. Sounds good, but it only involved three people: a pianist, a singer, and a guy who played the sax. In addition to the oddness of that, he singer and the pianist (both female) clearly did not like each other. Oh yeah, and the singer had this very loud soprano voice that was clearly classically trained. This would have been great in an opera, but not so much for singing, "I Feel Pretty." To top it off, she also did not speak English, but had obviously memorized the English words (or the sounds of the English words) as well as she could. But, in some cases, what came out were new and innovative lyrics that had never been heard before (or since). There were a few moments where I wanted to laugh out loud, but held it in. To make it worse, I looked over at Val and he clearly was perplexed as to why we were even there! It could only have been more funny if the singer had launched into a rendition of "Puff the Magic Dragon." Thankfully, that didn't happen. I was able to maintain my composure and, soon enough, we were back out on the cool nighttime streets of Prague.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Money-Changers and Thieves
In addition to being on the lookout for pickpockets, we found the value of not listening to people who offer to change money here in Prague. A man approached Geraldine while she was waiting to change some money and said he'd give her a much better rate. She was intrigued, but of course Val can small a rat from a mile away and told the guy to buzz off (or something like that). It turns out that these guys offer you a better rate, then give you old, obsolete Czech or Bulgarian money for your dollars or euros. Glad we turned them down (I had learned last year in Cambodia to not use money-changers if at all possible).
The best way to deal with money in a foreign country it to use ATM machines; they give you the current rate, and they are dependable and trustworthy. Try hitting machines in banks (as opposed to ones in convenience stores) where possible.
Pickpockets are pretty good at their jobs, too. We were on a metro here and a few guys got on and were all crowding near the door (which is where Val was standing). One started pushing him into the guy behind him, and when the guy behind complained and Val turned to tell him that he couldn't help it, the "pusher" tried to get into Val's pocket. Val was not thrilled about this and made it quite known. The guy finally jumped off the metro and disappeared into the crowd, at which point someone pointed out to Val that his camera case (on his belt) was completely opened up. Luckily, he was wearing the camera itself around his neck at the time! Nothing lost, except a bit of my composure.
The best way to deal with money in a foreign country it to use ATM machines; they give you the current rate, and they are dependable and trustworthy. Try hitting machines in banks (as opposed to ones in convenience stores) where possible.
Pickpockets are pretty good at their jobs, too. We were on a metro here and a few guys got on and were all crowding near the door (which is where Val was standing). One started pushing him into the guy behind him, and when the guy behind complained and Val turned to tell him that he couldn't help it, the "pusher" tried to get into Val's pocket. Val was not thrilled about this and made it quite known. The guy finally jumped off the metro and disappeared into the crowd, at which point someone pointed out to Val that his camera case (on his belt) was completely opened up. Luckily, he was wearing the camera itself around his neck at the time! Nothing lost, except a bit of my composure.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
In Training
So, our trip from Bruges to Prague was done via train, with a jaunt to Dusseldorf and then an overnight train to Prague.
Dusseldorf is someplace I would love to see for more than 10 hours someday. We went to the information center near the train station where a great guy gave us a map, outlined where we could walk for a few hours, and even told us where to eat! We also took a short river cruise around the city, to get a feel for what it was like. I definitely want to come back here...
Now, for the overnight train. The accommodations were small but clean, the bathroom had a shower (of sorts), we had a sink in our compartment, and we got to sleep! The overnight trip also was the beginning of a now-marathon poker game between Val and me. Score upon arrival in Prague: Janine $6620, Val $1720. Too bad it's just imaginary money!!
So, we arrived in Prague rested and ready to meet up with Val's sisters and niece (Geraldine, Kathleen, and Cliona). The taxi ride was fairly brief to the hotel, which was situated amongst a lot of run-down, graffiti-riddled buildings. Uh-oh, I thought. But, the room was clean enough, and very large. Plus, who can complain about paying 49 Euro for a room including full breakfast each day for both of us? Everything will be fine...
Dusseldorf is someplace I would love to see for more than 10 hours someday. We went to the information center near the train station where a great guy gave us a map, outlined where we could walk for a few hours, and even told us where to eat! We also took a short river cruise around the city, to get a feel for what it was like. I definitely want to come back here...
Now, for the overnight train. The accommodations were small but clean, the bathroom had a shower (of sorts), we had a sink in our compartment, and we got to sleep! The overnight trip also was the beginning of a now-marathon poker game between Val and me. Score upon arrival in Prague: Janine $6620, Val $1720. Too bad it's just imaginary money!!
So, we arrived in Prague rested and ready to meet up with Val's sisters and niece (Geraldine, Kathleen, and Cliona). The taxi ride was fairly brief to the hotel, which was situated amongst a lot of run-down, graffiti-riddled buildings. Uh-oh, I thought. But, the room was clean enough, and very large. Plus, who can complain about paying 49 Euro for a room including full breakfast each day for both of us? Everything will be fine...
Monday, October 13, 2008
Robin and the Plants
No, it isn't a new band name....I have to give an honorable mention here to my wonderful buddy, Robin Fournier. Robin is from Louisiana and is watching my house while I am gone. This became especially important as my landlady (who DEFINES anal) called before I left to complain that the lawn wasn't looking green enough. Grrrrr. (She somehow ignores the fact that the dishwasher is broken and the icemaker has NEVER been successfully hooked up on the fridge that she INSISTED stay in the house).
Lucky for me, Robin (who I met whilst taking my certification course for TESOL) is staying in San Francisco for a while longer, and is apparently taking good care of my lawn because I got an email from her a few days ago that said the lawn was behaving nicely. It was signed with love from Robin and the Plants.
Robin, YAY for you!!!!
Lucky for me, Robin (who I met whilst taking my certification course for TESOL) is staying in San Francisco for a while longer, and is apparently taking good care of my lawn because I got an email from her a few days ago that said the lawn was behaving nicely. It was signed with love from Robin and the Plants.
Robin, YAY for you!!!!
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Bruges
Well, Bruges was all I hoped for and MORE. First of all, the B&B we stayed in was incredible. We had a huge room with bathroom, heated towel bars, lots of space, and breakfast when we wanted it each morning with an array of food that was fantastic! If you are EVER in Bruges, look up the Belfry Bed and Breakfast
So, knowing only what I had seen in the Colin Farrell movie, I found that Bruges is a very small town, but with lots to do. Somehow, in only three days, we packed in a ton of activities. We saw the church from the film and a chocolate museum the first afternoon we arrived. On our second day, we rented bikes and rode out to a neighboring town, along the canals. After riding about 20 miles, we came back to town and climbed the 366 steps to the top of the belfry tower (and then rewarded ourselves with french fries!), then took a brewery tour that entailed climbing another 200+ stairs. It was quite the exercising kind of day! Day three included more sightseeing, and then a great meal of rabbit and flemish beef stew.
As opposed to the French-speaking people in Brussels, Bruges is a Flemish (or Dutch) speaking city. But, everyone here takes FOUR languages in school: Dutch, French, German, and English. So, communicating here has been simple (and it makes me feel quite inadequate for only speaking 1 1/2 languages!)
Can we go back to the french fries??? They are so damn good here, I cannot gush enough. So now, in addition to having gotten used to always having bread and cheese for breakfast every day, I am also eating large quantities of french fries (with large quantities of mayonnaise). I can feel my arteries hardening up even as we speak, but OH MAN this stuff is good. I may have to buy myself an extra seat on the plane coming home! Yummmmmmmm...
While leaving Bruges by bus to get back to the train station, the bus driver suddenly stopped int he middle of the street. Being from San Francisco, I was waiting for him to start screaming at someone (our drivers are pretty surly!) but it was to simply lower his window and chat for a minute or two with a very pregnant woman who was crossing the street. They had a nice little chat and then he continued driving us to the station. Hilarious.
So, knowing only what I had seen in the Colin Farrell movie, I found that Bruges is a very small town, but with lots to do. Somehow, in only three days, we packed in a ton of activities. We saw the church from the film and a chocolate museum the first afternoon we arrived. On our second day, we rented bikes and rode out to a neighboring town, along the canals. After riding about 20 miles, we came back to town and climbed the 366 steps to the top of the belfry tower (and then rewarded ourselves with french fries!), then took a brewery tour that entailed climbing another 200+ stairs. It was quite the exercising kind of day! Day three included more sightseeing, and then a great meal of rabbit and flemish beef stew.
As opposed to the French-speaking people in Brussels, Bruges is a Flemish (or Dutch) speaking city. But, everyone here takes FOUR languages in school: Dutch, French, German, and English. So, communicating here has been simple (and it makes me feel quite inadequate for only speaking 1 1/2 languages!)
Can we go back to the french fries??? They are so damn good here, I cannot gush enough. So now, in addition to having gotten used to always having bread and cheese for breakfast every day, I am also eating large quantities of french fries (with large quantities of mayonnaise). I can feel my arteries hardening up even as we speak, but OH MAN this stuff is good. I may have to buy myself an extra seat on the plane coming home! Yummmmmmmm...
While leaving Bruges by bus to get back to the train station, the bus driver suddenly stopped int he middle of the street. Being from San Francisco, I was waiting for him to start screaming at someone (our drivers are pretty surly!) but it was to simply lower his window and chat for a minute or two with a very pregnant woman who was crossing the street. They had a nice little chat and then he continued driving us to the station. Hilarious.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Brussels
Well, again the keyboards were thwarting my attempts at blogging, but now I have gotten my hands on a standard (to me) board, so I will add a little bit...
My first impression of Brussels was, "hmmmmmmmmm...." It seemed gray, kind of dirty, and not very friendly. Luckily, I got over it pretty quickly. We stayed with a gentleman named Pierre, who was incredibly interesting and always willing to sit for an hour at breakfast and answer questions about culture, politics, language, etc.
Belgium has three official languages - Flemish (which is almost the same as Dutch), French, and German. Brussels is about 85% French-speaking and, as I have been told is the case in France, they really don't want to speak English to us. This is, of course, their right (it is, after all, their country!). But it made communication a bit more difficult that it has been up to this point.
While in the chapel of the EU building, I tried to ask a question and the woman there did not understand me; oddly enough, I asked her if she spoke Spanish and she did! So, I was able to talk to her a bit that way (she had lived in Spain for four years at some point in her life). She called over an older gentleman who spoke English and told him that I was American, and the first thing he said was, "Oh, you have a very important election coming up - are you voting for Obama?" I assured him that I was, and he was very happy. The people here in Europe are pretty unified in their hatred for Bush (smart people!) and they all love Obama. If Europeans could vote in the election, Obama would win by a landslide!
Anyway, we saw all kinds of great stuff in Brussels, and ate WAY too much chocolate!!! Next blog entry, I will tell about my three days in Brugge, but for now I have to go get some dinner. Peace, everyone.
--Janine
My first impression of Brussels was, "hmmmmmmmmm...." It seemed gray, kind of dirty, and not very friendly. Luckily, I got over it pretty quickly. We stayed with a gentleman named Pierre, who was incredibly interesting and always willing to sit for an hour at breakfast and answer questions about culture, politics, language, etc.
Belgium has three official languages - Flemish (which is almost the same as Dutch), French, and German. Brussels is about 85% French-speaking and, as I have been told is the case in France, they really don't want to speak English to us. This is, of course, their right (it is, after all, their country!). But it made communication a bit more difficult that it has been up to this point.
While in the chapel of the EU building, I tried to ask a question and the woman there did not understand me; oddly enough, I asked her if she spoke Spanish and she did! So, I was able to talk to her a bit that way (she had lived in Spain for four years at some point in her life). She called over an older gentleman who spoke English and told him that I was American, and the first thing he said was, "Oh, you have a very important election coming up - are you voting for Obama?" I assured him that I was, and he was very happy. The people here in Europe are pretty unified in their hatred for Bush (smart people!) and they all love Obama. If Europeans could vote in the election, Obama would win by a landslide!
Anyway, we saw all kinds of great stuff in Brussels, and ate WAY too much chocolate!!! Next blog entry, I will tell about my three days in Brugge, but for now I have to go get some dinner. Peace, everyone.
--Janine
Monday, October 6, 2008
AZERTY
The title of this blog relates to the first 6 keys on the keyboards here in Belgium. That, combined with the fact that all numbers require a SHIFT (as does the period), the parentheses are separated by four other keys and do NOT require a shift, etc, etc... means that I adamantly reFUSE to blog until I get to a more keyboard-friendly place!
So, I am storing up info about Brussels (which I loved) and Brugges (which I adore, and where I currently am) and will blog about them soon!
Frustratedly,
Janine
So, I am storing up info about Brussels (which I loved) and Brugges (which I adore, and where I currently am) and will blog about them soon!
Frustratedly,
Janine
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Amsterdam
For the last two days, I have been in Amsterdam. I loved Sweden, but I think Amsterdam has to win out (but only by a gnat's ass, as my mother would say) over Stockholm just because of the incredible cuteness of it.
As with Stockholm, the public transportation system here is fantastic. It has been SO easy to get around here, and get around we have! In a very short time, we have seen the Van Gogh museum, the Anne Frank house, the Sex Museum (fascinating!), had a canal tour, eaten WAY too much food, and spent some time in the red light district. I have to say, the Dutch have the right idea when it comes to deciding what to legalize; the sex workers are clean, open, and seemingly drug-free. It's just a business, like any other, and because they can be on the open about it, they can make their rules to remain disease-free, they are regulated and get tested regularly, they pay taxes, and they rarely are messed with by their clientele. Best of all, they have no need for pimps.
Of course, also in abundance are "coffeehouses," which are really places to buy and smoke dope. Again, it seems to work here, The use of illegal (harder) drugs in Holland is lower than most countries, and they aren't wasting their jail space on people who simply want to smoke pot (unlike the U.S., where 700,000 people were arrested in 2006 for marijuana - and we all complain that our courts are overloaded? Come ON, people, let's get our heads out of our bums!) Yes, Mom, I went into a coffeehouse and no, Mom, I didn't buy anything. We just wanted to see what it was like. Basically, imagine your flour and sugar canisters at home filled with pot and out on the counter for people to look at and buy; it's that way here with pot.
There are so many bicycles here that I have to look out for bikes much more than cars. Everyone rides them, and rides them FAST! Also, there are really cool kiddie bike seats for the fronts of bikes as well as the backs; again, I have pics and will upload them when I get home.
I am fascinated by the longevity statistics here and in Sweden. In Sweden, for example, the average lifespan is something like 80 years; that is far above most other countries, and certainly above the USA. HOW do they do it, considering the incredibly relationship they seem to have with cheese, cream, and eggs??? It has to be the exercise they all get, biking and walking everywhere. That's all I can seem to come up with for an explanation. In any case, I have become quite fond of having some bread and cheese for breakfast every day. I hope to God that my walking around all day is working off some of the food, because I have been pigging out! Oh well, I am on vacation and I can start eating better....tomorrow.
OK, I am off to bed; tomorrow, I go to Brussels on the first official "train" leg of my trip. Meanwhile, in a few hours Joe Biden and Sarah Palin will match wits. Well, in Palin's case, i think only one wit. She scares the heck outta me, that one. I was never really on the fence, but if I had been, my mind is made up, now. Obama for President!
Ta-ta,
Janine
As with Stockholm, the public transportation system here is fantastic. It has been SO easy to get around here, and get around we have! In a very short time, we have seen the Van Gogh museum, the Anne Frank house, the Sex Museum (fascinating!), had a canal tour, eaten WAY too much food, and spent some time in the red light district. I have to say, the Dutch have the right idea when it comes to deciding what to legalize; the sex workers are clean, open, and seemingly drug-free. It's just a business, like any other, and because they can be on the open about it, they can make their rules to remain disease-free, they are regulated and get tested regularly, they pay taxes, and they rarely are messed with by their clientele. Best of all, they have no need for pimps.
Of course, also in abundance are "coffeehouses," which are really places to buy and smoke dope. Again, it seems to work here, The use of illegal (harder) drugs in Holland is lower than most countries, and they aren't wasting their jail space on people who simply want to smoke pot (unlike the U.S., where 700,000 people were arrested in 2006 for marijuana - and we all complain that our courts are overloaded? Come ON, people, let's get our heads out of our bums!) Yes, Mom, I went into a coffeehouse and no, Mom, I didn't buy anything. We just wanted to see what it was like. Basically, imagine your flour and sugar canisters at home filled with pot and out on the counter for people to look at and buy; it's that way here with pot.
There are so many bicycles here that I have to look out for bikes much more than cars. Everyone rides them, and rides them FAST! Also, there are really cool kiddie bike seats for the fronts of bikes as well as the backs; again, I have pics and will upload them when I get home.
I am fascinated by the longevity statistics here and in Sweden. In Sweden, for example, the average lifespan is something like 80 years; that is far above most other countries, and certainly above the USA. HOW do they do it, considering the incredibly relationship they seem to have with cheese, cream, and eggs??? It has to be the exercise they all get, biking and walking everywhere. That's all I can seem to come up with for an explanation. In any case, I have become quite fond of having some bread and cheese for breakfast every day. I hope to God that my walking around all day is working off some of the food, because I have been pigging out! Oh well, I am on vacation and I can start eating better....tomorrow.
OK, I am off to bed; tomorrow, I go to Brussels on the first official "train" leg of my trip. Meanwhile, in a few hours Joe Biden and Sarah Palin will match wits. Well, in Palin's case, i think only one wit. She scares the heck outta me, that one. I was never really on the fence, but if I had been, my mind is made up, now. Obama for President!
Ta-ta,
Janine
Stockholm
Oh, I have been so bad about blogging, and now I find myself two entire cities behind! I will try to catch up....
On Sunday, I was driven by Carina, Per, and family to Stockholm (thanks, Carina, YOU ARE AWESOME!) after a great visit with them all. I was staying in the IPA house in Rissne, which is a suburb of Stockholm. The price was definitely right (it was only 37 Euros per night!) and it was so incredibly simple to get the metro into Stockholm each day to see sights. As had been my experience already in Sweden, the people in Stockholm were so unbelievably friendly and helpful that all I had to do was begin to look confused and someone would approach me to ask if I needed help.
So, let's see....we took a canal tour (I had never realized how much WATER there was in and around and through the city!) and saw the Grand Palace, Skansen park, and some other sights, but the best sightseeing adventure was the Vasa Museum. The Vasa was a ship commissioned to be built in the 17th century, and it sank on its maiden voyage before ever getting out of Stockholm. This isn't really all that fantastic, I guess, but the museum was astonishingly cool. Once again, I have to say that Rick Steves' travel books are the bomb. Anyway, I also finally got Swedish meatballs while in Stockholm - I actually went to the grocery store and bought them and the sauce mix myself, and cooked them up in the guest house. So, my Swedish culinary wishes were all granted (but still nothing compares to the food I had while with Carina and Per...nothing).
My other "wish list" item for Sweden was to buy a warm sweater; in fact, I deliberately didn't bring one with me, and the jacket I brought is more water-resistant than warm. So, I looked around in Stockholm and ventured into some little shop that sold wool sweaters. Now, these aren't fuzzy wool sweaters, but dense, wonderful, intricately designed wool sweaters. The price tags were jaw-dropping, but I tried one on anyway and it fit and I had to buy it. I wore it the next day and, even though our breath was visible, I couldn't feel anything on my upper half other than torrid heat. I actually almost had to remove the dang thing, it was so warm! I have been appreciating it ever since. I shall have to add a picture of it once I get home and upload pics.
Speaking of uploading pics, I am LOVING the Epson viewer that I bought before I left the states. It allows me to back up my photos every day, and then look through them and weed out the obviously bad ones. Maybe I'll only have two thousand pics when I get home instead of three thousand!!! hahahahha
Last but NOT least, I received an email from my lovely daughter today informing me that she has procured employment for herself for when she gets back home from her trip to Copenhagen (remember, SHE is why I am here in the first place - to see her speak at the Association of Internet Researchers conference on October 16). Sara will be working for a non-profit in the city, the Electronic Frontier Foundation. Yay, Sara!
At the same time, I have pretty much decided that my current project for California Volunteers will be my last gig in Sacramento. I'm tired of driving, and spending the last 6 weeks on forced unemployed status (thanks to our completely dorky governor, damn him!) has made me realize how much I love my city. I just want to be HOME at night, and ride public transportation during the day. Sacramento can go to hell (oh wait, it's 117 degrees there sometimes int he summer - it already IS hell!) :-)
OK, off I go. Love to all my friends and family.
Cheers,
Janine
On Sunday, I was driven by Carina, Per, and family to Stockholm (thanks, Carina, YOU ARE AWESOME!) after a great visit with them all. I was staying in the IPA house in Rissne, which is a suburb of Stockholm. The price was definitely right (it was only 37 Euros per night!) and it was so incredibly simple to get the metro into Stockholm each day to see sights. As had been my experience already in Sweden, the people in Stockholm were so unbelievably friendly and helpful that all I had to do was begin to look confused and someone would approach me to ask if I needed help.
So, let's see....we took a canal tour (I had never realized how much WATER there was in and around and through the city!) and saw the Grand Palace, Skansen park, and some other sights, but the best sightseeing adventure was the Vasa Museum. The Vasa was a ship commissioned to be built in the 17th century, and it sank on its maiden voyage before ever getting out of Stockholm. This isn't really all that fantastic, I guess, but the museum was astonishingly cool. Once again, I have to say that Rick Steves' travel books are the bomb. Anyway, I also finally got Swedish meatballs while in Stockholm - I actually went to the grocery store and bought them and the sauce mix myself, and cooked them up in the guest house. So, my Swedish culinary wishes were all granted (but still nothing compares to the food I had while with Carina and Per...nothing).
My other "wish list" item for Sweden was to buy a warm sweater; in fact, I deliberately didn't bring one with me, and the jacket I brought is more water-resistant than warm. So, I looked around in Stockholm and ventured into some little shop that sold wool sweaters. Now, these aren't fuzzy wool sweaters, but dense, wonderful, intricately designed wool sweaters. The price tags were jaw-dropping, but I tried one on anyway and it fit and I had to buy it. I wore it the next day and, even though our breath was visible, I couldn't feel anything on my upper half other than torrid heat. I actually almost had to remove the dang thing, it was so warm! I have been appreciating it ever since. I shall have to add a picture of it once I get home and upload pics.
Speaking of uploading pics, I am LOVING the Epson viewer that I bought before I left the states. It allows me to back up my photos every day, and then look through them and weed out the obviously bad ones. Maybe I'll only have two thousand pics when I get home instead of three thousand!!! hahahahha
Last but NOT least, I received an email from my lovely daughter today informing me that she has procured employment for herself for when she gets back home from her trip to Copenhagen (remember, SHE is why I am here in the first place - to see her speak at the Association of Internet Researchers conference on October 16). Sara will be working for a non-profit in the city, the Electronic Frontier Foundation. Yay, Sara!
At the same time, I have pretty much decided that my current project for California Volunteers will be my last gig in Sacramento. I'm tired of driving, and spending the last 6 weeks on forced unemployed status (thanks to our completely dorky governor, damn him!) has made me realize how much I love my city. I just want to be HOME at night, and ride public transportation during the day. Sacramento can go to hell (oh wait, it's 117 degrees there sometimes int he summer - it already IS hell!) :-)
OK, off I go. Love to all my friends and family.
Cheers,
Janine
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Smörgåstårta
I just had the most amazing food. You can check out the definition in Wiki here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sm%C3%B6rg%C3%A5st%C3%A5rta
Basically, this thing was a huge cake-like structure made with layers of Swedish flatbread with many different fillings: liver pate, leek and curry paste, ham, creme freche, shrimp, eggs, tomatoes, dill, kiwi, and who knows what else. It looked incredible, sounded interesting, and tasted so damn good that I ate three pieces of it, had dessert, then promptly fell asleep on my hostess' couch (how embarassing!). Oh yeah, speaking of dessert, it was some sort of chocolate cream cake with fresh whipped cream, and a cardamom-cinnamon cake. This added to my food-induced couch coma. When I woke up, everyone was just laughing at me. Ah well, worse things have happened. :-)
So, today is my last full day with Carina and her family. In addition to going for sleep-inducing food at her mom's place, we also went to a soccer game to watch her son, Andreas, play, and we went to the local castle to get some pictures and a history lesson.
Tomorrow, I am off to Stockholm to continue my adventures. The weather has been wonderful so far (although there were some dark clouds today and it was getting colder than it has been) and everything has gone wonderfully well. I don't know how much internet access I will have from this point forward, but will try to blog as much as possible.
I must go now, as Carina is ironing my laundry and I am feeling marginally guilty.
Be well!
Janine
Basically, this thing was a huge cake-like structure made with layers of Swedish flatbread with many different fillings: liver pate, leek and curry paste, ham, creme freche, shrimp, eggs, tomatoes, dill, kiwi, and who knows what else. It looked incredible, sounded interesting, and tasted so damn good that I ate three pieces of it, had dessert, then promptly fell asleep on my hostess' couch (how embarassing!). Oh yeah, speaking of dessert, it was some sort of chocolate cream cake with fresh whipped cream, and a cardamom-cinnamon cake. This added to my food-induced couch coma. When I woke up, everyone was just laughing at me. Ah well, worse things have happened. :-)
So, today is my last full day with Carina and her family. In addition to going for sleep-inducing food at her mom's place, we also went to a soccer game to watch her son, Andreas, play, and we went to the local castle to get some pictures and a history lesson.
Tomorrow, I am off to Stockholm to continue my adventures. The weather has been wonderful so far (although there were some dark clouds today and it was getting colder than it has been) and everything has gone wonderfully well. I don't know how much internet access I will have from this point forward, but will try to blog as much as possible.
I must go now, as Carina is ironing my laundry and I am feeling marginally guilty.
Be well!
Janine
Friday, September 26, 2008
Nyköping
I am currently in Sweden, where everything is green and gorgeous. To put it in a perspective that my friends can relate to, it's a lot like the Tahoe area, except with more green meadows between all the stands of pine trees. I have been blessed with great weather since I got here, it's about 70 degrees during the day and about 40 at night.
I am staying with Carina and Per and their two children, Andreas and Emma. Carina lived with me for a year about 19 years ago, when my kids were tiny. We have kept in touch over the years, and she was thrilled to have me come visit when I told her that I was going to be in Scandinavia this fall. Carina is a CADD drafter (and many other things in her company! and Per is a plane mechanic. Andreas is 6 years old and Emma is 3. They are both beautiful and really bright. Andreas is pretty quiet much of the time, but Emma is a serious talker. She reminds me completely of Alec at that age. She has been teaching me some Swedish words in exchange for English words. I regret to say that her retention is about 100% while mine is near zero. I am getting old....
The area where Per and Carina live is a smattering of homes (maybe 130) about an hour outside Stockholm. More than half the homes are summer houses, so not too many families live here year-round. It is quiet and idyllic, with a lake a couple hundred meters away. There are deer and wild pigs in the woods. The sky is blue like I've never seen it, and there are so many huge stars at night - I am enthralled.
Sara, you'll be happy to know that I have taken pictures of some food as well, Carina made some sort of pork loin wrapped in bacon and stuffed with garlic, butter, tomato puree, and green onions that was to die for. Oh yeah, and topped with a cider sauce (I even took a photo of the sauce ingredients, so I can try to recreate it). We need to have a cooking fest when we get home!
The coast here is so different, too. Sweden is a land of islands, and so the coastal areas are full of channels and inlets, with no crashing waves as we know them. We went hiking yesterday on the coast about 15 miles from here, and it was great. I also visited a town called Trosa, where canals go through town and people have a house AND a boat. It all looked like something off a postcard.
So, we are off to buy converters for the Nintendo DS Lites that I brought for the kids (the chargers are, of course, built for 110V currents). I hope that everyone back in the states is happy and healthy. Be well, my friends!
Hej då,
Janine
I am staying with Carina and Per and their two children, Andreas and Emma. Carina lived with me for a year about 19 years ago, when my kids were tiny. We have kept in touch over the years, and she was thrilled to have me come visit when I told her that I was going to be in Scandinavia this fall. Carina is a CADD drafter (and many other things in her company! and Per is a plane mechanic. Andreas is 6 years old and Emma is 3. They are both beautiful and really bright. Andreas is pretty quiet much of the time, but Emma is a serious talker. She reminds me completely of Alec at that age. She has been teaching me some Swedish words in exchange for English words. I regret to say that her retention is about 100% while mine is near zero. I am getting old....
The area where Per and Carina live is a smattering of homes (maybe 130) about an hour outside Stockholm. More than half the homes are summer houses, so not too many families live here year-round. It is quiet and idyllic, with a lake a couple hundred meters away. There are deer and wild pigs in the woods. The sky is blue like I've never seen it, and there are so many huge stars at night - I am enthralled.
Sara, you'll be happy to know that I have taken pictures of some food as well, Carina made some sort of pork loin wrapped in bacon and stuffed with garlic, butter, tomato puree, and green onions that was to die for. Oh yeah, and topped with a cider sauce (I even took a photo of the sauce ingredients, so I can try to recreate it). We need to have a cooking fest when we get home!
The coast here is so different, too. Sweden is a land of islands, and so the coastal areas are full of channels and inlets, with no crashing waves as we know them. We went hiking yesterday on the coast about 15 miles from here, and it was great. I also visited a town called Trosa, where canals go through town and people have a house AND a boat. It all looked like something off a postcard.
So, we are off to buy converters for the Nintendo DS Lites that I brought for the kids (the chargers are, of course, built for 110V currents). I hope that everyone back in the states is happy and healthy. Be well, my friends!
Hej då,
Janine
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
The Paper Chase
I am sitting in the Stockholm airport, waiting for a train to take me to Nyköping to see my long-time friend Carina and her family. Since I last saw Carina 19 years ago, she has gotten married and had two adorable children. My adventure begins with her family, and I can't wait to get there!
This is the farthest I have ever traveled alone: San Francisco to Chicago, Chicago to Frankfurt, Frankfurt to Stockholm, and now the train. It's proving pretty easy to get around, and I am good at asking people for help (always have been, it's a blessing [for me] and a curse [for everyone else that I bug]).
I must say, the people in Sweden are phenomenally nice so far. I went into a convenience store in the airport where I could get a printed copy of the train ticket that Carina had reserved for me, and the proprietor told me that he could do it for me, but there was a 20 kronor charge (that's about 3.50 USD) and I could print it for free from a kiosk upstairs. Nice guy. He said, "It's easy to use the machines and if you can't do it, then I just get to see you again when you come back down here to have me print it for you." It was, indeed, easy, and now I sit here at an internet cafe, ticket in hand, and will board my train in about another hour.
People in Germany? I have no idea; four hours in the airport and I don't think I heard more than three people even speak! It was like being in a library. This does NOT bode well for me and my loud, ever-present voice. Ah well, perhaps they are just bored with life and need a good, healthy dose of Janine!
But onto the paper issue....folks, you there in the US do NOT appreciate one of your greatest resources: toilet paper that is kind to your bum. The paper in Stockholm is rough, but the stuff in Frankfurt was downright abrasive. I could have taken some extra squares home to scour my sink. It occurred to me, whilst sitting on the toilet here in Stockholm, that I should collect a t.p. sample from every place I go, and put them all into a sort of "loo roll" scrapbook after I get home from my trip. But, I just can't bring myself to create such a scatological masterpiece, so I will just say it here: next time you go to the john, say a prayer of thanks to the toilet paper gods.
And now, I am off to find the train. I hope you all are happy and healthy, and I will try to blog as much as possible whilst here.
Kramar,
Janine
This is the farthest I have ever traveled alone: San Francisco to Chicago, Chicago to Frankfurt, Frankfurt to Stockholm, and now the train. It's proving pretty easy to get around, and I am good at asking people for help (always have been, it's a blessing [for me] and a curse [for everyone else that I bug]).
I must say, the people in Sweden are phenomenally nice so far. I went into a convenience store in the airport where I could get a printed copy of the train ticket that Carina had reserved for me, and the proprietor told me that he could do it for me, but there was a 20 kronor charge (that's about 3.50 USD) and I could print it for free from a kiosk upstairs. Nice guy. He said, "It's easy to use the machines and if you can't do it, then I just get to see you again when you come back down here to have me print it for you." It was, indeed, easy, and now I sit here at an internet cafe, ticket in hand, and will board my train in about another hour.
People in Germany? I have no idea; four hours in the airport and I don't think I heard more than three people even speak! It was like being in a library. This does NOT bode well for me and my loud, ever-present voice. Ah well, perhaps they are just bored with life and need a good, healthy dose of Janine!
But onto the paper issue....folks, you there in the US do NOT appreciate one of your greatest resources: toilet paper that is kind to your bum. The paper in Stockholm is rough, but the stuff in Frankfurt was downright abrasive. I could have taken some extra squares home to scour my sink. It occurred to me, whilst sitting on the toilet here in Stockholm, that I should collect a t.p. sample from every place I go, and put them all into a sort of "loo roll" scrapbook after I get home from my trip. But, I just can't bring myself to create such a scatological masterpiece, so I will just say it here: next time you go to the john, say a prayer of thanks to the toilet paper gods.
And now, I am off to find the train. I hope you all are happy and healthy, and I will try to blog as much as possible whilst here.
Kramar,
Janine
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Comings and Goings
I have been in school full-time for the last month, earning my certification to Teach English to Speakers of Other Languages (TESOL). It was a good way to use my time productively while waiting for the damn legislature to get a budget enacted so I can go back to work. It was also an eye-opener, because when I left college at the age of 20 I pretty well detested going to school. Now, I am incredibly sad that I don't have to get up and go to school Monday.
The last month has been revelatory in a host of ways. In addition to packing in a ton of information related to teaching, I somehow rediscovered myself (yes, it sounds cliche, but I cannot think of a better way to describe it). I made some new friends; I cemented relationships with a couple existing ones; I found a new love; I refound the joy for life that I had lost over the last 4 1/2 years; I was so busy that I only could find time to sleep about 6 hours per night, but I didn't mind at all; I traveled all over the city for a month and only started my car four times; I talked to random people on the street and on Muni; I realized that the world really is a fascinating place.
The downside to this is that it truly IS fascinating and now I want to learn more about it. I am dying to go back to school full time and finish up the degree I never got. OK, well, finish up the degree I hadn't even thought of getting (I was a business major when I left school - now I want to study something fascinating like anthropology or linguistics). Could I take a year or more off work and finish up my schooling? Probably. Would I have any money left afterwards? Probably not. Do I have to decide now? No, thank god.
So, a huge thanks to all of my friends and family who supported me in this endeavor to enrich myself. In so many ways, this has been one of the best months of my life. All I can say is: YAY!
The last month has been revelatory in a host of ways. In addition to packing in a ton of information related to teaching, I somehow rediscovered myself (yes, it sounds cliche, but I cannot think of a better way to describe it). I made some new friends; I cemented relationships with a couple existing ones; I found a new love; I refound the joy for life that I had lost over the last 4 1/2 years; I was so busy that I only could find time to sleep about 6 hours per night, but I didn't mind at all; I traveled all over the city for a month and only started my car four times; I talked to random people on the street and on Muni; I realized that the world really is a fascinating place.
The downside to this is that it truly IS fascinating and now I want to learn more about it. I am dying to go back to school full time and finish up the degree I never got. OK, well, finish up the degree I hadn't even thought of getting (I was a business major when I left school - now I want to study something fascinating like anthropology or linguistics). Could I take a year or more off work and finish up my schooling? Probably. Would I have any money left afterwards? Probably not. Do I have to decide now? No, thank god.
So, a huge thanks to all of my friends and family who supported me in this endeavor to enrich myself. In so many ways, this has been one of the best months of my life. All I can say is: YAY!
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Lemmings
I remember learning about lemmings while in a special science program in college. They are fascinating little creatures, really. People think of them simply as the rodents that sometimes march over cliffs to their deaths, but it’s just not so. Yes, they sometimes go over a cliff, but it’s to get into the ocean and swim to a new place; some get exhausted and die if the swim is a long one, but it isn’t deliberate suicide.
That being said, the lemming population does have huge swells and dips, and it affects the whole ecosystem of the arctic. After all, most artic carnivores eat lemmings, so when lemming populations go way down, the carnivores suffer as well.
So, how does it happen? Well, lemmings are burrowing critters, and they live under the tundra. In order to keep warm, they have a chemical similar to anti-freeze in their blood – cool, huh? (No pun intended). They are also a bit pugnacious, and tend to fight amongst themselves, especially when stressed. As the population grows underground, they get overcrowded, stress increases, and they start really duking it out. When this happens, the weaker lemmings are forced out of the burrow, and out into the sun (if it’s summer). But they have that wicked antifreeze…so their blood gets WAY too hot when they are topside for too long, and they kind of internally boil to death (Thank you, Jerry Smith from SJSU, for making science so INCREDIBLY interesting that I remember all this after 30 years!)
In fact, lemming populations sometimes dwindle to almost zero, but then they always recover, and since only the strongest have survived, the population comes back healthier than ever.
Why am I thinking about lemmings this week? My brother, Marc, who is one of the most intelligent people I have ever known (and, bless his heart, likes to impart his knowledge to others in an always-understandable way) sent me a newsletter he wrote, in which he talked about world population. There are way too many of us…way. I mean way WAY way. Seven billion people on an earth probably geared to sustain maybe two billion comfortably.
One of the things that struck me most about his column was the fact that, given a smaller population, and with the great technology we have, we’d all be really relaxed and have a lot of leisure time if we could use that technology to support 80% fewer people. But, given the growth rate of the last couple hundred years, and the fact that people ain’t slowing down in the baby-making department, we can make technology until the cows come home and it isn’t going to produce more fossil fuels, more land on which to grow food, or more potable water.
In other words, we are basically a bunch of lemmings waiting to see who gets booted up to the surface to boil first.
This could, conceivably, be a depressing thought. OR, this realization can be a catalyst for change. We don’t HAVE to be lemmings, fighting with each other and scratching for our existence.
Conserve where you can. Use common sense and do your part to keep the earth in good shape for as long as possible. But, most importantly, realize that every moment we have is potentially precious. Kiss your kids (hopefully, your 1.2 kids). Hug your friends. Do something nice for somebody. Stay in bed an extra 4 minutes and listen to your heart beating. Better yet, stay in bed an extra 4 minutes and listen to someone else’s heart beating. Smile. Breathe. Breathe some more. Never hesitate to tell people that you love them.
Peace,
Janine
That being said, the lemming population does have huge swells and dips, and it affects the whole ecosystem of the arctic. After all, most artic carnivores eat lemmings, so when lemming populations go way down, the carnivores suffer as well.
So, how does it happen? Well, lemmings are burrowing critters, and they live under the tundra. In order to keep warm, they have a chemical similar to anti-freeze in their blood – cool, huh? (No pun intended). They are also a bit pugnacious, and tend to fight amongst themselves, especially when stressed. As the population grows underground, they get overcrowded, stress increases, and they start really duking it out. When this happens, the weaker lemmings are forced out of the burrow, and out into the sun (if it’s summer). But they have that wicked antifreeze…so their blood gets WAY too hot when they are topside for too long, and they kind of internally boil to death (Thank you, Jerry Smith from SJSU, for making science so INCREDIBLY interesting that I remember all this after 30 years!)
In fact, lemming populations sometimes dwindle to almost zero, but then they always recover, and since only the strongest have survived, the population comes back healthier than ever.
Why am I thinking about lemmings this week? My brother, Marc, who is one of the most intelligent people I have ever known (and, bless his heart, likes to impart his knowledge to others in an always-understandable way) sent me a newsletter he wrote, in which he talked about world population. There are way too many of us…way. I mean way WAY way. Seven billion people on an earth probably geared to sustain maybe two billion comfortably.
One of the things that struck me most about his column was the fact that, given a smaller population, and with the great technology we have, we’d all be really relaxed and have a lot of leisure time if we could use that technology to support 80% fewer people. But, given the growth rate of the last couple hundred years, and the fact that people ain’t slowing down in the baby-making department, we can make technology until the cows come home and it isn’t going to produce more fossil fuels, more land on which to grow food, or more potable water.
In other words, we are basically a bunch of lemmings waiting to see who gets booted up to the surface to boil first.
This could, conceivably, be a depressing thought. OR, this realization can be a catalyst for change. We don’t HAVE to be lemmings, fighting with each other and scratching for our existence.
Conserve where you can. Use common sense and do your part to keep the earth in good shape for as long as possible. But, most importantly, realize that every moment we have is potentially precious. Kiss your kids (hopefully, your 1.2 kids). Hug your friends. Do something nice for somebody. Stay in bed an extra 4 minutes and listen to your heart beating. Better yet, stay in bed an extra 4 minutes and listen to someone else’s heart beating. Smile. Breathe. Breathe some more. Never hesitate to tell people that you love them.
Peace,
Janine
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Dad
I went to visit my father yesterday; he is in an Alzheimer's care facility up in Sonoma. Dad is in the late stages of Alzheimer's, and has long since stopped calling me by name. But, for one quiet, peaceful hour, I sat next to him and held his hand and talked intermittently. His conversations are disjointed and make little sense much of the time, but his grip on my hand was true. Periodically, he'd look at me and I'd smile at him and he would reach out with his other hand and stroke my hand holding his, the same way he did all my life since I was a little girl. I remembered how he'd do that even when I was an adult, and so many more things went through my mind: that he learned to ride a horse so that he could take me riding as a kid; that he taught me to play Pedro (a four-player card game) so that I could come down to visit him at his school during the summers and play with him and the other administrators in the faculty lounge; that from an early age I would traipse into my parents' room sometimes early in the morning and watch him shave while my mom was still asleep. Dad would lift me onto the bathroom counter and proceed to explain the "best" way to shave - first hot water, then soap and water, more hot water to soften the beard, then a good, close shave. He had an extra razor with the blade removed, and sometimes he'd put more shaving cream on his face when he was done shaving and let me "shave" him with the bladeless razor. Luckily, I don't have a beard (then or now), but I still know the basics of a good, close shave. And, to this day, one of my favorite things to do is shave a man's face. It's completely relaxing, it makes me happy, and it's still a great bonding experience.
Seven years ago, I wrote an essay about my dad's disease, and how frustrating it was for him at the time. Now, he has blessedly gotten beyond most of that irritation; he is finally at peace much of the time. It's good for him, because I cannot imagine the horror of that feeling, knowing that your mind is slipping away. It's bad for the rest of us, because the man who we knew and loved is absent much of the time. I have to be (and am) happy that when I walked in and said, "Hi, Daddy," he said, "Hi, sweetie," the way he always did. And when my brother and sister-in-law arrived, and I said, "Hi, guys," he likewise said, "Hi, guys!" He is happy to have the company, and I'd like to think that he knows, somewhere in his heart, that we are people who are special to him.
In any case, here is that essay I wrote long ago. This post is dedicated to my father, who I can say with all honesty and clarity was (and is) a good man. His heart is huge, and he would have done anything for us. I know for a fact that he would gladly have died for us and for my mom, instinctively and with no hesitation. Any of us on this earth would be lucky to have that.
Happy Father's Day.
When I was little, my dad would sometimes tell me he was going to Hollister. He wasn’t really going, but he learned from his mom that when someone asked you where you were going and you didn’t want to say, you simply said, “Hollister.” (Of course, my grandmother didn’t really speak English, so she probably said, “Holy-stare,” but that’s beside the point). We actually went to Hollister once; it’s a dry, desolate cattle community that was a couple hours’ drive from our home in the Bay Area of California. My sister was on a softball team, and her team was playing a team from Hollister. I was too young to know or care why, but I found myself in the back of our old gray station wagon with six or eight other girls, my dad driving, my mom in the front seat, all of us singing “100 Bottles of Beer.” I have no idea who won the game. It was a great day.
But even after having been there once, my dad used the same answer when questioned. It took me a while to figure out that he simply didn’t want me to know; I spent a good number of years wondering why he’d ever want to go back to that horrid place. Now, if we went to Hollister, my dad wouldn’t know it. He often asks me where we are, why we are there, and then asks me again a few minutes later. And again. And again. The magical connections that fire in the human brain which allow information to complete the circuit into an area of retention have stopped performing for my father; he remembers things from 40 years ago, but not 40 seconds ago. His lives in the past now; not because he chooses to, but because it is the path his body has chosen for him. Once upon a time, my father spent hours at night lying awake and conjuring complicated and fascinating mathematical scenarios involving the number nine; now, he cannot add a column of numbers because he cannot keep tally in his head. Once, he drove us everywhere (including Hollister); now, he cannot pass his written driving exam because he cannot recall the question for which he is looking at possible answers. Once, he believed the sun rose and set in a woman with whom he could have incredible conversations; now, he believes the sun rises and sets in a woman for whom he believes he can provide no comfort, no conversation, no companionship.
The truly sad fact is that, even though we’d love to believe that he doesn’t, my father knows that his memory has left him. He knows that he was a genius who graduated high school early because he had learned it all. He knows that he was a professor at Berkeley at an early age, and that he fell in love with a student because she had freckles and a gorgeous smile and “great gams.” He knows that he was in control of his life, of his wife, of his children, of his world. Now, he spins out of control along a highway of fear and disbelief; his life, his wife, his children, and his world speed past him and leave him behind, and he can’t know where they’ve been or where they are going.
My dad has gone to Hollister.
Seven years ago, I wrote an essay about my dad's disease, and how frustrating it was for him at the time. Now, he has blessedly gotten beyond most of that irritation; he is finally at peace much of the time. It's good for him, because I cannot imagine the horror of that feeling, knowing that your mind is slipping away. It's bad for the rest of us, because the man who we knew and loved is absent much of the time. I have to be (and am) happy that when I walked in and said, "Hi, Daddy," he said, "Hi, sweetie," the way he always did. And when my brother and sister-in-law arrived, and I said, "Hi, guys," he likewise said, "Hi, guys!" He is happy to have the company, and I'd like to think that he knows, somewhere in his heart, that we are people who are special to him.
In any case, here is that essay I wrote long ago. This post is dedicated to my father, who I can say with all honesty and clarity was (and is) a good man. His heart is huge, and he would have done anything for us. I know for a fact that he would gladly have died for us and for my mom, instinctively and with no hesitation. Any of us on this earth would be lucky to have that.
Happy Father's Day.
HOLLISTER
When I was little, my dad would sometimes tell me he was going to Hollister. He wasn’t really going, but he learned from his mom that when someone asked you where you were going and you didn’t want to say, you simply said, “Hollister.” (Of course, my grandmother didn’t really speak English, so she probably said, “Holy-stare,” but that’s beside the point). We actually went to Hollister once; it’s a dry, desolate cattle community that was a couple hours’ drive from our home in the Bay Area of California. My sister was on a softball team, and her team was playing a team from Hollister. I was too young to know or care why, but I found myself in the back of our old gray station wagon with six or eight other girls, my dad driving, my mom in the front seat, all of us singing “100 Bottles of Beer.” I have no idea who won the game. It was a great day.
But even after having been there once, my dad used the same answer when questioned. It took me a while to figure out that he simply didn’t want me to know; I spent a good number of years wondering why he’d ever want to go back to that horrid place. Now, if we went to Hollister, my dad wouldn’t know it. He often asks me where we are, why we are there, and then asks me again a few minutes later. And again. And again. The magical connections that fire in the human brain which allow information to complete the circuit into an area of retention have stopped performing for my father; he remembers things from 40 years ago, but not 40 seconds ago. His lives in the past now; not because he chooses to, but because it is the path his body has chosen for him. Once upon a time, my father spent hours at night lying awake and conjuring complicated and fascinating mathematical scenarios involving the number nine; now, he cannot add a column of numbers because he cannot keep tally in his head. Once, he drove us everywhere (including Hollister); now, he cannot pass his written driving exam because he cannot recall the question for which he is looking at possible answers. Once, he believed the sun rose and set in a woman with whom he could have incredible conversations; now, he believes the sun rises and sets in a woman for whom he believes he can provide no comfort, no conversation, no companionship.
The truly sad fact is that, even though we’d love to believe that he doesn’t, my father knows that his memory has left him. He knows that he was a genius who graduated high school early because he had learned it all. He knows that he was a professor at Berkeley at an early age, and that he fell in love with a student because she had freckles and a gorgeous smile and “great gams.” He knows that he was in control of his life, of his wife, of his children, of his world. Now, he spins out of control along a highway of fear and disbelief; his life, his wife, his children, and his world speed past him and leave him behind, and he can’t know where they’ve been or where they are going.
My dad has gone to Hollister.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
The Only Thing We Have to Fear....
...is fear itself.
Today, the California State Supreme Court ruled that it will NOT grant a stay on its previous ruling to allow same-sex marriages, pending the November election. So, marriages will begin June 17 and continue until/unless the November balloted constitutional amendment passes; that proposed amendment would alter our constitution to specifically state that marriage can ONLY exist between a man and a woman. For more info on the decision, check this out: http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2008/06/04/BA8V1137HS.DTL&tsp=1
This is all, of course, simply back-story for what I am wondering today:
WHY are people so afraid of other people being different from them?
It is that fear of difference that has sparked some of the most ugly, lengthy, bloody battles of all time; there are religious wars (Jews/Muslims, Catholics/Protestants, Christians/Non-Christians, you name it), ethnic/tribal wars, political wars. I have blogged before about the fact that I am told I am going to hell for having been raised Catholic (by fundamentalist Christians); why do people who believe in a merciful God think it's their place to tell me that I don't get something as good as they do, once I die?
What in the bloody hell are people afraid of?
I am afraid of an abundance of disease and a lack of good, affordable health care; I am afraid of the world being a worse place for my incredible children than it was/is for me; I am afraid of waking up some day and finding that, after years of age and gravity, ALL of my sexually-related body parts are going to be centrally located. These all seem like rational fears to me (really - that whole central location thing has me worried).
But I am NOT afraid of people loving each other and wanting to commit to each other and live happy, productive, coupled lives. Heck, that seems like a no-brainer to me; what is there to fear in that? And yet, I see comments like this one from Campaign for California Families, who claims that "the plague of same-sex marriage will soon spread rapidly across the nation." First of all, for the edification of the CCF (although I never thought that hatred was a family value, so I'm not so much in agreement with their name), a plague is "an epidemic disease that causes widespread death." OK, lexicography aside, what is the issue here? Why are they afraid of homosexuals? (substitute the word of your choice here - heathens, people of color, liberals...)
The fear is that people who are different from them will be happy, productive, and viewed as "normal." Why is this frightening? Because if someone who does not hold their narrow-minded beliefs can be a great member of society, maybe, just maybe, these fear-mongers are wrong?? Then, everything they live their lives for, everything they use as a shield against rationality, everything they use as an excuse for prejudice and hatred, falls away and leaves the simple truth: they are simply mean-spirited, spiteful snots.
But it doesn't have to be scary. We can all be wrong together, or right together, or simply accept that probably none of us has the real answer, but we all have a piece of the solution to the puzzle inside us. What a great world this would be if we respected and celebrated people's differences instead of fearing and distrusting them; if we worked together on the puzzle to try to make all the pieces fit. Think about it. Please?
And finally, congratulations to my incredible sister and sister-in-law, Paula and Julie. They will be tying the knot (finally!) on June 23. Their marriage has been put off until now not because of a lack of love or commitment to each other, but because of a lack of love and rationality on the part of the citizens of this state. Certainly, their marriage will prevail and endure because of their love for each other and the abiding love of their friends and family for them. I am proud to love them both. Mazel Tov!
Today, the California State Supreme Court ruled that it will NOT grant a stay on its previous ruling to allow same-sex marriages, pending the November election. So, marriages will begin June 17 and continue until/unless the November balloted constitutional amendment passes; that proposed amendment would alter our constitution to specifically state that marriage can ONLY exist between a man and a woman. For more info on the decision, check this out: http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2008/06/04/BA8V1137HS.DTL&tsp=1
This is all, of course, simply back-story for what I am wondering today:
WHY are people so afraid of other people being different from them?
It is that fear of difference that has sparked some of the most ugly, lengthy, bloody battles of all time; there are religious wars (Jews/Muslims, Catholics/Protestants, Christians/Non-Christians, you name it), ethnic/tribal wars, political wars. I have blogged before about the fact that I am told I am going to hell for having been raised Catholic (by fundamentalist Christians); why do people who believe in a merciful God think it's their place to tell me that I don't get something as good as they do, once I die?
What in the bloody hell are people afraid of?
I am afraid of an abundance of disease and a lack of good, affordable health care; I am afraid of the world being a worse place for my incredible children than it was/is for me; I am afraid of waking up some day and finding that, after years of age and gravity, ALL of my sexually-related body parts are going to be centrally located. These all seem like rational fears to me (really - that whole central location thing has me worried).
But I am NOT afraid of people loving each other and wanting to commit to each other and live happy, productive, coupled lives. Heck, that seems like a no-brainer to me; what is there to fear in that? And yet, I see comments like this one from Campaign for California Families, who claims that "the plague of same-sex marriage will soon spread rapidly across the nation." First of all, for the edification of the CCF (although I never thought that hatred was a family value, so I'm not so much in agreement with their name), a plague is "an epidemic disease that causes widespread death." OK, lexicography aside, what is the issue here? Why are they afraid of homosexuals? (substitute the word of your choice here - heathens, people of color, liberals...)
The fear is that people who are different from them will be happy, productive, and viewed as "normal." Why is this frightening? Because if someone who does not hold their narrow-minded beliefs can be a great member of society, maybe, just maybe, these fear-mongers are wrong?? Then, everything they live their lives for, everything they use as a shield against rationality, everything they use as an excuse for prejudice and hatred, falls away and leaves the simple truth: they are simply mean-spirited, spiteful snots.
But it doesn't have to be scary. We can all be wrong together, or right together, or simply accept that probably none of us has the real answer, but we all have a piece of the solution to the puzzle inside us. What a great world this would be if we respected and celebrated people's differences instead of fearing and distrusting them; if we worked together on the puzzle to try to make all the pieces fit. Think about it. Please?
And finally, congratulations to my incredible sister and sister-in-law, Paula and Julie. They will be tying the knot (finally!) on June 23. Their marriage has been put off until now not because of a lack of love or commitment to each other, but because of a lack of love and rationality on the part of the citizens of this state. Certainly, their marriage will prevail and endure because of their love for each other and the abiding love of their friends and family for them. I am proud to love them both. Mazel Tov!
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Us....Them
I can't believe it's been three months since I did any blogging. Soon, I will have much to blog about, since I am going on another 4-week trip this fall (details to come). But for now, I have been thinking...
WHEN did DOGS get so darned POLITE?
This weekend finds me in charge of Derby, the mixed-breed pooch of my friends Jill and Barb. Jill and Barb are in Pennsylvania, planting trees on Jill's dad's Christmas tree farm and, hopefully, convincing as many Pennsylvanians as possible to vote for Obama (OK, I doubt that, but an Obama-supporter can dream, can't she?)
So, here I am at home with Derby for a few days. Naturally, since we live in the city, I need to take her for walks a couple times a day so that she can get some exercise and do waste-related things. I recall my childhood days, when we had a dog named Baron. Baron was (for the time) a typical dog, in so many endearing ways. When leashed for a walk, he pulled so hard on the leash that he was known to topple a hefty adult. If let loose in the house, he would gladly eat an entire beef roast off the kitchen counter (which he did, once). When set free in the front yard, he would run screaming for the hills, sometimes bringing back a treat for us (birds, bunnies, you name it). Baron caused the demise of a few neighborhood cats, got into a couple gnarly dogfights in his career, and loved to dig in the backyard. He was a typical DOG. (Incidentally, he was a great hunting dog, except that he ranged too far - that dog could smell a pheasant from a mile away).
So, I expected Derby to be, well, what I thought was a dog. Instead, I find myself with a canine "person" (and a polite one!) in the house. She won't try to wake me up in the morning, until I show some sign of life. She doesn't tug at her leash. She shows no sign of interest, while walking, in other dogs or any humans. Birds can fly right in front of her nose and she ignores them. What is the world coming to?? We have gotten so "civilized" that our dogs sit and listen while we talk to them, stop at the corner before crossing the street, and (in many cases, but lord knows not mine, never) sleep in our beds. Have we turned our dogs into four-legged humans?
Heck, I honestly know some people who speak MUCH more fondly of their dogs than their spouses. I find this sad and disturbing, but I decline to tell these people my feelings, because it arouses great ire within them (of course, the fact that people get angry and defensive if you suggest that they should at least love the husband as much as the mutt also saddens and disturbs me). For some people, spending time "in the doghouse" would probably be a step up!
Conversely, I think of my own situation. At least two days a week, I work from home. During those days, unless I make a conscious effort to get out of the house for a walk, I have no human contact whatsoever. I become oddly excited in anticipation of a trip to Trader Joe's, and I find myself listening intently to determine when the mailman is walking down the street.
ACK! We've switched places! I have become a dog!
Think about it; as we get more technologically astute and civilized, are we teaching the non-human species to also become more civilized, but taking on historical traits of those species? Are we blurring the lines between creatures, here? Dogs are polite, gorillas are speaking in sign language, and dolphins are locating underwater mines for the military. Conversely, humans spend more and more time alone (working from home, getting their communication via computer), suspicious of other members of our species, and longing to go for car rides on the weekends!
Just something to think about................
WHEN did DOGS get so darned POLITE?
This weekend finds me in charge of Derby, the mixed-breed pooch of my friends Jill and Barb. Jill and Barb are in Pennsylvania, planting trees on Jill's dad's Christmas tree farm and, hopefully, convincing as many Pennsylvanians as possible to vote for Obama (OK, I doubt that, but an Obama-supporter can dream, can't she?)
So, here I am at home with Derby for a few days. Naturally, since we live in the city, I need to take her for walks a couple times a day so that she can get some exercise and do waste-related things. I recall my childhood days, when we had a dog named Baron. Baron was (for the time) a typical dog, in so many endearing ways. When leashed for a walk, he pulled so hard on the leash that he was known to topple a hefty adult. If let loose in the house, he would gladly eat an entire beef roast off the kitchen counter (which he did, once). When set free in the front yard, he would run screaming for the hills, sometimes bringing back a treat for us (birds, bunnies, you name it). Baron caused the demise of a few neighborhood cats, got into a couple gnarly dogfights in his career, and loved to dig in the backyard. He was a typical DOG. (Incidentally, he was a great hunting dog, except that he ranged too far - that dog could smell a pheasant from a mile away).
So, I expected Derby to be, well, what I thought was a dog. Instead, I find myself with a canine "person" (and a polite one!) in the house. She won't try to wake me up in the morning, until I show some sign of life. She doesn't tug at her leash. She shows no sign of interest, while walking, in other dogs or any humans. Birds can fly right in front of her nose and she ignores them. What is the world coming to?? We have gotten so "civilized" that our dogs sit and listen while we talk to them, stop at the corner before crossing the street, and (in many cases, but lord knows not mine, never) sleep in our beds. Have we turned our dogs into four-legged humans?
Heck, I honestly know some people who speak MUCH more fondly of their dogs than their spouses. I find this sad and disturbing, but I decline to tell these people my feelings, because it arouses great ire within them (of course, the fact that people get angry and defensive if you suggest that they should at least love the husband as much as the mutt also saddens and disturbs me). For some people, spending time "in the doghouse" would probably be a step up!
Conversely, I think of my own situation. At least two days a week, I work from home. During those days, unless I make a conscious effort to get out of the house for a walk, I have no human contact whatsoever. I become oddly excited in anticipation of a trip to Trader Joe's, and I find myself listening intently to determine when the mailman is walking down the street.
ACK! We've switched places! I have become a dog!
Think about it; as we get more technologically astute and civilized, are we teaching the non-human species to also become more civilized, but taking on historical traits of those species? Are we blurring the lines between creatures, here? Dogs are polite, gorillas are speaking in sign language, and dolphins are locating underwater mines for the military. Conversely, humans spend more and more time alone (working from home, getting their communication via computer), suspicious of other members of our species, and longing to go for car rides on the weekends!
Just something to think about................
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Incredible Women
All my life, I have been overweight (I even hate that word; is there some magic number that I have exceeded? Did I "cross the line"? argh) and told that "it's too bad because I could be so pretty." So, this short blog entry is just a huge thank you to two people - one person I have known for her entire life and one person I don't know at all.
Sara Bassett, my daughter, writes a blog on food, fat, and feminism. It's fantastic. Check it out sometime. She has taught me, more than anyone, how wonderful it can feel to be happy in your own skin.
Jordan Matter is a photographer in New York who did a series on topless women in New York - women of all shapes, sizes, ages, and races. It's beautiful. THEY are beautiful. Their stories need to be read as well, so leave yourself an hour to look at it. http://www.jordanmatter.com/view.asp?url=/exhibits/broadband/nudes_01/003_snowy_night,_washington_heights.jpg&path=/exhibits/broadband/nudes_01
Sara Bassett, my daughter, writes a blog on food, fat, and feminism. It's fantastic. Check it out sometime. She has taught me, more than anyone, how wonderful it can feel to be happy in your own skin.
Jordan Matter is a photographer in New York who did a series on topless women in New York - women of all shapes, sizes, ages, and races. It's beautiful. THEY are beautiful. Their stories need to be read as well, so leave yourself an hour to look at it. http://www.jordanmatter.com/view.asp?url=/exhibits/broadband/nudes_01/003_snowy_night,_washington_heights.jpg&path=/exhibits/broadband/nudes_01
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Split Checks, not Hairs
I have the pleasure of being in a singles group in San Francisco that is facilitated by my friend, Jan. She coordinates different activites, which typically end up being dinners out. Sometimes four people show up, sometimes fourteen. But invariably, either everyone wants separate checks or someone gets screwed. Why? Because people tend to not want to simply split the bill up and pay a percentage of the total (including tax and tip). So, in order to save themselves from paying an extra buck or two because maybe someone got a more expensive dinner or had a spendier glass of wine, they try to "figure out" what they owe. People, it NEVER works to do that.
I remember back in the stone age when I worked at Businessland in San Jose. There was a group of about eight of us who went for lunch regularly, and we had a great system: we took turns paying. Yes, sometimes we went to MacDonald's and sometimes we went out for sushi, but nobody in that group ever complained about having to pay at the higher-priced places. Why? Because we all had a similar philosophy: when you die, you're even. Besides, eventually the guy who payed for sushi one day would get a trip to MacDonald's or Burger King on his next rotation, and it all worked out in the end. Even if it didn't, there would be a day when he'd get a good deal with some other group or somewhere else. As I said before, when you die, you're even.
If only everyone could work things out that way. Grab the bill, add a hefty tip (OK, I happen to be a generous tipper, but that's fodder for another blog entry on another day), divide it by the number of people, and nobody has to end up throwing in another twenty bucks to make up for the bloke who can't add, forgot that there is tax on restaurant food, won't tip well, or basically just doesn't mind screwing everyone else out of a few bucks. My friend, Craig, has a great mataphor for those people: "tighter than bark on a tree." (Craig has the best expressions for lots of things; I've never figured out if it's because he's from a different country [Wyoming] or just because Craig is frighteningly brilliant). But, I digress...
So, poor Jan has now had to actually post the group activities with a gentle reminder to bring enough money for a meal, PLUS tax and tip. I'm sorry, this is a 40s and 50s singles group - shouldn't we all be old enough to have figured restaurant etiquette out by now? The answer, astoundingly (and sadly) is no.
My plea for the day: when the check comes, split the bill, and don't split hairs about it. Life is short, my friends, and you ARE even when you die. Besides, remember that after you die it's the people you had those dinners with who will be buying flowers for your funeral and making donations to a charity related to the cause of your demise. What goes around comes around, so rack up some good karma now.
And remember, DO tip well. Food service personnel are poorly paid, constantly harassed, and have a mostly thankless job. Show them some love.
Happy dining! --Janine
I remember back in the stone age when I worked at Businessland in San Jose. There was a group of about eight of us who went for lunch regularly, and we had a great system: we took turns paying. Yes, sometimes we went to MacDonald's and sometimes we went out for sushi, but nobody in that group ever complained about having to pay at the higher-priced places. Why? Because we all had a similar philosophy: when you die, you're even. Besides, eventually the guy who payed for sushi one day would get a trip to MacDonald's or Burger King on his next rotation, and it all worked out in the end. Even if it didn't, there would be a day when he'd get a good deal with some other group or somewhere else. As I said before, when you die, you're even.
If only everyone could work things out that way. Grab the bill, add a hefty tip (OK, I happen to be a generous tipper, but that's fodder for another blog entry on another day), divide it by the number of people, and nobody has to end up throwing in another twenty bucks to make up for the bloke who can't add, forgot that there is tax on restaurant food, won't tip well, or basically just doesn't mind screwing everyone else out of a few bucks. My friend, Craig, has a great mataphor for those people: "tighter than bark on a tree." (Craig has the best expressions for lots of things; I've never figured out if it's because he's from a different country [Wyoming] or just because Craig is frighteningly brilliant). But, I digress...
So, poor Jan has now had to actually post the group activities with a gentle reminder to bring enough money for a meal, PLUS tax and tip. I'm sorry, this is a 40s and 50s singles group - shouldn't we all be old enough to have figured restaurant etiquette out by now? The answer, astoundingly (and sadly) is no.
My plea for the day: when the check comes, split the bill, and don't split hairs about it. Life is short, my friends, and you ARE even when you die. Besides, remember that after you die it's the people you had those dinners with who will be buying flowers for your funeral and making donations to a charity related to the cause of your demise. What goes around comes around, so rack up some good karma now.
And remember, DO tip well. Food service personnel are poorly paid, constantly harassed, and have a mostly thankless job. Show them some love.
Happy dining! --Janine
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