"Why trade in for someone unknown when you have the almost perfect person?"

No, that wasn't said in regard to someone who dumped their spouse (or spousal equivalent) for a new model, but rather about my sister. And her job as treasurer of my state.

Almost perfect? That was close! Can you imagine how unbearable a person would be if they had newspaper clippings to prove they were indeed perfect?

I worked from home today. Not because I wanted to, but because I couldn't get to work. Oh, I left the house on time, and walked to the subway without a hitch. There was even a train there when I got to the platform. And I found a seat!

But about four stops later we held. And held. And held. and held. because there was smoke in some tunnel. They weren't sure which one. Or what is from. So we held some more, but were told we really would be moving soon. And that they'd be single tracking between Farragut North and Judiciary Square.

Soon. But first, they had to offload my train. So, everybody off and please wait for the next one. So the packed train cleared, and we waited. And waited. And waited. And then squeezed on to an already full train. And waited in a packed car. For about ten minutes. But we'd be moving soon, because they were single tracking through some smoky tunnels. But no one knew where the smoke was, or what exactly was causing it.

Strange. Just last week I was on a train taken out of service at Farragut North because of, wait for it, smoke in the tunnel. Strange.

Oh, we will be moving soon. But not on this train. Because we're off loading it. So, please exit the train, and board the next one. Which will be here soon.

At that point, I dug through the crap at the bottom of my bag and found the 50 cents I needed to call the office. Explained the situation, and then asked what time it was. Hmmm. 10:10. I'd been trying to get into work for almost 2 hours at this point.

I said I'd keep 'em posted, but might head home if things didn't improve. And then hung up quickly, as a train was entering the station. A packed one. But we squeezed on. And the doors stayed open for another 7 minutes.

Maybe longer. i don't know. Because I got out of that car, crossed the platform, and got on a train headed for home.

When I checked the metro website, there was no mention of this. One of the tv stations had a little blurb, but ended it with the line "metro says the problem was taken care of before 10am.

Right.

The only good thing to come out of the morning was that I read the entire paper before getting down to work. Sally Jenkins (daughter of Dan) wrote a wonderful column on Barbaro.
"In diagnosing the public's unreasoning love for Barbaro, maybe it comes down to the fact that he never lied to us. Human nature seems like a sorry, wastrel thing, compared to that horse. No doubt, we idealized him, but the fact is, we could have used a happy ending for Barbaro, given some of the Gilded Age characters who parade safely through public life into retirement. His survival seemed like one good thing, a balm for foreign wars, domestic deceit, and the bimbo cocktail party circuit, ruthless wealth-swappage, and cross-entouraging that we lately call American culture.

Barbaro was an honest, blameless competitor. Our ridiculously soft feeling for him was based at least partly on that fact. Unlike so many people in the sports pages, he was neither felonious, nor neurotic. He let us place burdens on him, whether a saddle, a bet, or a leg brace, and he carried them willingly, even jauntily."

You can read the whole thing here.

On the other hand, this was the stupidest thing I've read in months. Maybe years! From the wonderful Guardian newspaper's Media Monkey column in the media guardian section. (www.mediaguardian.co.uk)

"Under the weather
Ah, the perils of reporting on bad weather. The driver of a news van belonging to WDJT-TV in Milwaukee got his feet wet at the weekend when his truck fell through the ice on Big Muskeo Lake. And the story the WDJT-TV news crew were working on? The dangers of thin ice."

oh come on. tell me YOU could walk out of the store and not buy these rubber boots.






I now can not wait until festival season. Those early ones are often so muddy.

i can't believe that no one is as thrilled as I am about my new governor.












I think you're just jealous. No way yours is cuter.


(if i was posting this on the LJ account, would i have to spell that jellus?)

Hey! Z has moved! You can now visit her here. And lee mother of sasha, friend her on LJ if you've got an acct. I'm there, too. Without any friends. Yet.

quote of the day:
...Said seven-time Oscar nominee Peter O'Toole upon hearing of his nomination: "If you fail the first time, try, try, try, try, try, try, try again. Yoicks!"

I was about five when my father first entrusted me with the daily newspaper. I could read a bit, and watching him each morning, I learned how to turn the pages without tearing them (but because he read the paper at the kitchen table, i never learned how to fold it correctly for an unobtrusive subway ride).

I also learned one read the paper in a particular order. Of course, he had his order, and since he HAD to read the paper in that order, I had to come up with my own. An order that I still stick to: sports first, as it's the least interesting to me and I don't have to be awake. Business next - - - in the early days, i didn't think it was interesting, but as I grew older it moved up in the ranks. But that doesn't mean I could disrupt the order. After business comes Metro. And no, I don't blow past the obits. I've lived here almost all my life and pick out a couple of names a month. Then style. Today the comics are in style. They used to be in other sections, but comics always were read after style, because, well, they were. And finally the "A" or front section. That comes last because you have to be awake to read it.

Now, I can't remember what order my dad read the paper in. Probably not the same as mine, because we couldn't be reading at the same time in that case.

Anyway,because I picked up my paper reading cues from my father, I felt you needed to wrinkle your brow in order to read the stock listings, squinted at the box scores and "hmmm'd" at editorials. I also grew up thinking everyone laughed out loud at Art Buchwald. (and did crosswords in ink, but that's another matter)

Mr. Buchwald died yesterday at 81, almost a year after he declined kidney dialysis, was given days to live, and moved to a hospice. And about six months after he left the hospice, finished up another book, and enjoyed one more summer of lobster on his beloved marthas vineyard.

I've enjoyed reading the obits and the appreciations that are in newspapers today around the globe. His column was once carried in more than 500 papers, and available to readers worldwide in the international herald tribune.
I've picked out a few lines that seem to me to be perfect:

From the Guardian
"One of his skills was to link seemingly unconnected topics. In 1973, during one of the periodic scares about UFOs, he ended one column: "The final expert I spoke to was Prof Charles Simolli, a sociologist, who said, 'The most interesting thing is that most of the UFO sightings have been in the South.'

"What are you driving at?" I asked. "Has it ever occurred to you that all these poor creatures from outer space are trying to do is to bus their kids to a good school?"

And in his (adopted) hometown Washington Post
"Buchwald's 1952 wedding -- Lena Horne arranged for it to be held in London's Westminster Cathedral -- was attended by Gene Kelly, John Huston, Jose Ferrer, Perle Mesta and Rosemary Clooney, to name a few. If these names don't ring a bell with you, suffice it to say they were the sort of international superstars who do not normally attend the weddings of 26-year-old newspapermen.

As the Paris column grew more popular, Buchwald made it more and more about himself -- a comic version of himself. On the eve of the biggest wedding of the age, matching gorgeous Grace Kelly to Monaco's Prince Rainier, he wrote that the only reason he wasn't on the guest list was because the Buchwald family and the Grimaldi dynasty had been feuding for 500 years.

His invitation from the prince was hand-delivered the next day."

love it, love it, love it. Of course you couldn't expect art buchwald to go silently into the night. Go to the New York Times for "the final word."

This is my new governor. His name is Martin O'Malley.








Don't you wish you lived in my state?

a thousand pardons! I really will get back to the grind, i mean into the habit of writing, again.
I am freshly back from Colorado, where it was a balmy 5 above. zero. during the day. how do you stay warm in a situation like that? by jumping in the hot tub. several times a day!

pictures to follow.

and for the ever patient z, here is a weird thing. I can not sit with my back to the room. Take me out to dinner, and I'll crawl into that cramped corner space, just so I don't have my back to the door, or the room.

and another: while I'm not easily startled, i am easily "startled." By that I mean even if i know you're standing next to me, I'll jump if you suddenly say something, or make a sudden movement. Yes, even if i've been standing there talking with you for five minutes. or longer. Now, that's weird.

Ok, one more. I have a couple of hundred records in my collection, and an equal number of cds. Yet, i rarely play music in my house. I guess because I listen to so much of it for and at work.

I know you are just dying to hear how my appt went today. So, without further delay, here is a copy of the email I sent to NM in response to her question: "did you see the doctor?"

"yes i did.


i thought he was quite good. possibly because after i told him we'd gone to school together he knew that it was likely i had a brain and he listened to what i had to say, and wanted questions. (i was complimented on my ability to give background info. too bad my parents aren't around to hear that the bucks they shelled out for college and grad school was money well spent.)

I told him right off that i thought my voice hadn't come back, and he said he thought it sounded good...but that i would know. I had thought about bringing in samples, but decided against it.

he then took a look....and....I am not crazy, there are nodules on my vocal chords, and of the one on my right (i think that's the one he commented on) vocal cord was described as being small, but very "angry." Adding "I wish you could see this, it's inflamed, and filled with blood, and a textbook picture."
He wants me to come back in april, and get it looked again, as he thinks it's all related to whatever i had in november.

and then he said that he was surprised at how i good i sounded, considering what it looked like.
He also offered a speech therapist referral, thinking they might be able to give me some advice.
told me not to yell, not to try to talk over noise (like at concerts), consider a bedroom humidifier, drink lots of water, not much caffeine (no problem), moderate alcohol, and not to talk excessively.

so, good news, bad news. bad news-nodule. good news, i sound pretty good, considering, and he's hopeful it will be diminished the next time i come in."

Let me add one thing. We started with a case history. And I began by saying something like "I don't yell, I don't sing, I try to modulate my voice."

I look over, and he has typed "patient denies singing."
And I couldn't help but laugh and say:"I do not sing. If anyone says they have heard me sing, they're lying."

Z has tagged me for something weird. And the weirdest thing is that I'm having problems figuring what to write.

This is weird, but doesn't qualify: I wanted to make an appt with the ENT, or otolaryngist, to get the nodes on my vocal chords checked, as my voice doesn't sound totally back to normal. At least it doesn't sound that way to me, it does to others....anyway, the MD I've seen in the past was booked up until the end of Feb, and the horrid hmo gatekeeper couldn't understand why I needed to be seen earlier. Finally, she found something with a jr in the group, next week. (and quite rude she was, too). Yesterday, I got a call from one of the nurses, saying an appt had come up with someone else for Friday. I took it, and then heard that I'd be seeing a guy I'd gone to high school with. I knew he was in the office, but i'd never been scheduled to see him before. I didn't know him too well, though we did have common friends. I'm hoping that, as he was a typical over achieving student at my school, that he won't recognize my name.

blah blah blah, happy new year, blah blah blah.

It is 6 pm, and I've eaten my black eyed peas. You haven't? What are you waiting for? Don't you want good luck and prosperity?

this year I had no trotters (isn't that cute? trotters. Not pigs feet), or hocks, but i did have some of that hatch green chile sausage I brought back from Austin. And some frozen greens, so I boiled up my fresh black eyed peas, put 'em in a pot with some thawed frozen okra, collard greens, a bit of veggie stock, and some rice. Instant brown rice I'm ashamed to say, cause that was all that I had.

Anyway, i simmered that for about 20 minutes, threw in a can of rotel tomatoes/chilis, the hatch chile sausage, and what was left of another can of diced tomatoes. Simmered that for a bit, tossed in some salt, and a bit of lemon juice, and gave it a try. Needed a bit more acid, so I squeezed a bit of lime, and it was just dandy. And full of fiber and vitamins, and all kinds of goodness. I have a feeling I'll be finishing up the pot over the next few days.

I also thawed some of the frozen chiles, with the idea of making some green chile. But then I couldn't find my recipe! too many confusing ones online, so I sent out an sos to Mony, in hopes that she'd cadged one from the New Mexico part of the family. We shall see.....