The Kids Are Alright

Thanks to "The Kids Are Alright," Ronniecat's yesterday post, for my year-ending post for 2007. Here's a link to a web address in one of the comments on her post, too.

It's nice to read about kids (in one case, a bunch of 12-year-olds) who--on their own--stand up against stereotypes and bullies.

And it's equally fine to read about another kid, age 17, who raised enough money to open a school for poor kids in a Cambodian village.

Kinda awe-inspiring, isn't it? And a kick in the pants for the rest of us for those times when we think, "I'm just one person...what I say or do doesn't matter in this day and age."

(And before you say anything, Ex-Shammie, "alright" must be a Canadian idiom! Ex-Shammie insists that "XtremeEnglish" is all wrong. Can't help it, Ex-Shammie....the rights to "Extreme English" were taken already.)

Benazir Bhutto 1953-2007

I can't download any photos of Benazir Bhutto, but please look at Mad Cabbie's blog for a touching comment.

Here is her obituary as carried in BBC.com

And the AP profile by Matthew Pennington and Jerry Schwartz as carried in the Rocky Mountain News.

And a moving personal reminiscence by Arianna Huffington on HuffPost.

What a courageous woman! May she rest in peace, and may we follow her example of living full out in the cause of peace.

Games

Birthplace of XtremeEnglish, with everyone inside, it looks like.

Many people at this time of year play games indoors: Monopoly, Bridge, Canasta, Chess, Checkers, Candyland, Old Maid, Twister, Charades. The kids get a new game as a gift, or the weather outside sucks, or the family is gathered together and the acceptable topics of conversation are quickly exhausted—when I was growing up, the most often discussed topic was recipes, go figure, as in “Babe makes the best brownies ever,” or “Aunt May adds a few grains of nutmeg to her homemade pancakes, and they are quite exquisite,” or “Jack loves my mother’s whortleberry pie”….end of story—and out comes the deck of cards or the beloved, beat-up box containing the game board, playing pieces, or whatnot for the favorite game.

My oldest niece’s clan played two rousing games of Chinese Checkers one afternoon when I visited last summer. They were quite good at it, too. The last time I had played Chinese Checkers prior to this was one very chilly June day on the neighbors’ porch at Lake Sallie, which would be at least 50+ years ago.

In general, most games tend to put me to sleep. Only Bridge is sufficiently varied to offer enough challenge, though it's been more than 20 years since I last played. Ditto Trivial Pursuit, and I have passed the peak age for Trivial Pursuit, which I think is around 50. By the time you hit 50, you have enough experience of the world to be a formidable player, but your memory hasn’t started to go to the dogs. I have resolved, however, to add more simple fun to my days, and my thoughts have turned to games.

A couple of years ago I bought a game to have around for visiting offspring, and today I got as far as taking the plastic wrapper off the box. I was going to bring it along to some friends’ house for after-dinner entertainment, but I forgot (!) it.

Maybe I should just smoke dope.

Christmas Memories...Best Forgotten

There's been a load of happy Christmas memories afloat in Blogland this week. I have my share of very pleasant memories of Yuletides past, but what I find morbidly fascinating are the stories I've heard of not-so-happy Christmases. The following are both true. They didn't happen to me or any of my relatives, but they came to me from a very reliable source.

The first story is about a family at Christmas dinner. Grandma and Grandpa were visiting, and the young mom had produced a splendid feast. While they were eating, the family started arguing light-heartedly about something...probably sports. Suddenly Grandma stood up, threw her napkin on her plate, and said, "I'm so sick of this. I'm sick of you all, and I'm especially sick of HIM." She pointed to Grandpa, whose fork was paused in mid air as he turned his head to see if it really was his wife who was talking like this. Grandma continued, "I've had it. I want a divorce! And I'm taking the car." With that, she stalked to the front hall, grabbed her coat and purse, slammed out the door, and drove off. I asked the narrator at this point what happened next, and she said, "Well, she drove to a motel in..........and they had to give him a ride home."

The second story concerns a family on Christmas Eve. The grandmother had to work late, and when she got home, she discovered one of her children and the child's spouse trying to comfort their screaming toddler. The kid had his arm in a sling and was wiping his nose on the back of the couch as he sobbed into the upholstery. Just then, Grandpa arrived, and asked what was going on. Grandma explained that toddler had gotten his arm twisted in daycare, and that the little family had come over to her place and let themselves in after they got out of the emergency room. Then Grandma broke down, sobbing...."What's the most important thing to me in MY LIFE?!" Grandpa said, "Your grandchild?" and Grandma said, "NO!!! MY WHITE COUCH!!!" and she pointed to the snot and slobber all over the back cushions.

I also recall the Christmas card that was Tom's favorite:
On the outside: Santa and his reindeer about to land the sleigh on a snow-covered rooftop.
On the inside: "Here comes fatty with his bag of crap!"

Merry Christmas, however it lands on your house......

Lovely Memories, 2

Katie, 18 mos., and Snowball in side yard, summer 1967.





When we lived in Bismarck, we moved to a log cabin on two acres in the Missouri River bottoms about six months after Katie was born. Our place was across the street from the arena for the Bismarck Horse Club until they moved the arena deep into the woods about the time Tom was born a couple of years later.

Bismarck is pretty dry, but in the spring, the ruts in the old arena would fill up with snow melt. Frogs would lay their eggs in these deep puddles, and after observing all this activity, Peggy and Sally would go across the street with tea strainers and harvest a bunch of frog eggs. They'd put them in big water-filled mayonnaise and pickle jars that we'd get from the Big Boy/KFC (called by nearly all the toddlers in our acquaintance "fucky fied chick'n") outlet at the end of the main street.

Pretty soon, the eggs would hatch, and we'd have big jars full of wee tadpoles at the end of the veranda on the side by the sandbox, swings, and apple orchard. And they'd grow....and grow. Pretty soon, you could HEAR the tadpoles splashing around from quite a distance. Slop! Splish! Splash!! And then it'd be time to carry the jars across the street and let the tadpoles go back into the puddles.

That was about the time of year, too, when the wild coyotes in the Missouri river bottom would call to those in the Dakota Zoo (just beyond the arena) at night after we were all in bed. And shortly after that, the wrens would arrive in our side yard, announcing that the wild asparagus was up in the woods.

The year before Tom was born, I was teaching junior high life science and earth science at the local Catholic school, and some of the kids used to come out to visit us on Saturdays. I'd strap Katie into a backpack, and then Peggy, Sally, Katie, and the visiting kids and I would head out into the woods adjoining our property for a nature walk. The students were enthralled to see the wild asparagus ("Is that the same as the kind we eat??") and the squirrel nests high in the trees. ("Squirrels live in NESTS??").

I remember walking into the science classroom one morning and discovering that somebody had thrown clods of dirt into the aquarium. I've never been one to mince words, so I said, "Would the jackass who did this please clean it up? These fish never hurt you. Why kill them by choking off their oxygen?". And that's all I said. The next day, the aquarium water was sparkling clean again, and the fish were swimming around as usual. The kids had worked long and hard after school to move the fish into the reserve clean water, then pour out the muddy water, rinse off the gravel, and put everything back to rights.

More fun...very oldie but very goody

from M'reen, a course....

The Bathtub Test

During a visit to the mental asylum, a visitor asked the Director:
"How do you determine whether or not a patient should be institutionalized?"

"Well," said the Director, "we fill up a bathtub, then we offer a teaspoon, a teacup and a bucket to the patient and ask him or her to empty the bathtub."

"Oh, I understand," said the visitor. "A normal person would use the
bucket because it's bigger than the spoon or the teacup."

"No." said the Director, "A normal person would pull the plug. Do you want a bed near the window?"




ARE YOU GOING TO PASS THIS ON, OR DO YOU WANT THE BED NEXT TO MINE ?

Monday Fun Fest....heh

[Well, everybody else has cool pictures of where they live. I took this one on the front porch of Union Station while waiting in a LOOOOOONG taxi line a week or two ago when everything was messed up on the metro, and I missed the Gally shuttlebus to campus. And no, I have not retired yet. Somebody yesterday said, "You're just staying on for the joy of it!!!" You guessed!!

ANGER MANAGEMENT (thanx to M'reen)

Husband: "When I get mad at you, you never fight back. How do you control your anger?"

Wife: "I clean the toilet."

Husband: "How does that help?"

Wife: "I use your toothbrush."

A CHRISTMAS TRADITION (thanx to Jimmy F)

Even Santa can have a bad day, but I didn't know about the start of this Christmas tradition until reading the following sweet little story:

When 4 of Santa's elves got sick, and the trainee elves did not produce the toys as fast as the regular ones, Santa was beginning to feel the pressure of being behind schedule.

Then Mrs. Claus told Santa that her Mom was coming to visit.

This stressed Santa even more.

When he went to harness the reindeer, he found that 3 of them were about to give birth, and 2 had jumped the fence... More stress!!

Then when he began to load the sleigh one of the boards cracked and the toy bag fell to the ground and scattered the toys all over the place.

Frustrated, Santa went into the house for a cup of apple cider and a shot of rum.

When he went to the cupboard he discovered that the elves had hidden the liquor...

so there was nothing to drink.

In his frustration he accidentally dropped the cider pot, and it broke into hundreds of little pieces all over the kitchen floor.

He went to get the broom and found that mice had eaten the straw end of the broom.

Just then the doorbell rang, and irritable Santa trudged to the door.

He opened the door and there was a beautiful, little angel with a great big Christmas tree. The angel said very cheerfully, "Merry Christmas,Santa. Isn't it a lovely day? I have a beautiful tree for you. Where would you like me to put it?"

And so began the tradition of the little angel on top of the Christmas tree...

TEST OF SMARTS (thanx to M'reen)

THIS IS INCREDIBLE....

Read all the Numbers... Slowly and in Order!!

Be Careful not to MISS ANY

1 2

3 4

5 6

7 8

9 10

11 12

13 14 15

16 17 18

19

20

21 22

23 24 25

26 27 28 29

30

Finished?

Scroll down ....................

GOOD WORK ! TOMORROW I'LL SEND

YOU THE ABC's !

It takes so little to amuse

some old codgers

[Oh, this last one didn't work out AT ALL....the numbers are sposed to be scattered all over and take you a few minutes to read in order, and there's sposed to be a LAUGHING BABY and a LAUGHING Jerry (the mouse from Tom & Jerry). Well, picture them in your mind's eye]

Lovely memories

As a variation on her usual Friday love list, Red Nose recently posted a list of memories she loves to…ah, remember. Basically I’m an Eeyore kind of person, but this seems like it might be a good idea. Well, let’s see…

After my grandpa died and left us some $$, my dad learned from his butcher pal Marty that a resort south of Detroit Lakes was for sale. Marty was going to buy one of the individual cottages, and my dad bought another one. I remember the summer day when I was 10 years old and we drove the 46 miles from Fargo to our new cottage on Lake Sallie for the first time. We walked into this four-room cabin that had an ICE BOX, and a little metal sign in the kitchen that said “GUESTS, LIKE FISH, AFTER THREE DAYS BEGIN TO STINK,” and a FIREPLACE in the living room, and a FRONT PORCH that overlooked the lake and had a ROUND TABLE w/six chairs in one corner and a big comfy bed with plain, not box, springs in the other, and a DOCK, and a BOAT, and a PUMP out back, and an OUTHOUSE with SPIDER WEBS complete with SPIDERS THE SIZE OF BING CHERRIES in them. Mom and Dad slept in the only bedroom, and I remember MY MOTHER LAUGHING when she climbed into bed that night and put her cold feet on my dad’s legs to warm them and he jumped. And I remember rolling over onto the extended side of the little metal cot in the living room and CAUSING IT TO TIP SO THAT IT SPILLED ME ONTO THE LINOLEUM FLOOR. And my mother laughing about that, too, and my dad going “heh heh, heh heh.” And the sound of the CHIPMUNKS IN THE ATTIC.

On the day seven years later when Mom, Dad, and I left the cottage to drive me to the convent in St. Paul, I remember the SOUND OF COTTONWOOD TREES singing in the wind gave me a big lump in my throat.

If I do not sound sad over my grandpa's death, it's because I never met him. He was my only living grandparent, and because we had no car during WWII (from the time I was about 5 until I was 10, when he died and the war was over), we did not travel to see him, or he, us. He lived several states away, and I talked to him once a year--always at Christmas. Dad would hand me the phone. "Say Merry Christmas to Grandpa." I'd take the black receiver. "Merry Christmas, Grandpa." Then I'd add, just in case, "This is Mary Ellen." "Well, hello there, Mary Ellen. Have you been a good girl? Did Santa bring you any presents?" "Yes." He'd laugh like my dad--"Heh heh. That's fine. Do you like school?" "Yes." (I lied....) "Bye, Grandpa." And I'd hand the phone back to Dad, who was standing nearby. Whew!

I remember going to bed on my first night in the convent. We slept three or four to a kind of dorm room, where a private space for each bed was created at night by drawing white curtains (they looked like plain old sheets strung up on wires) on three sides (the fourth side being the wall). I had just pulled on my brand new J.C. Penney white flannel nightgown, when the curtain between my bed and the one next to it was yanked back by one of my roommates, grinning and holding up a bottle of orange pop. She had smuggled it in one of the big pockets of her black underskirt to the dorm from the welcoming picnic earlier that day. She had, however, no bottle opener. I took the bottle from her, hooked the edge of the cap on the metal bed frame, and gave a swift downward blow with my other hand. The orange liquid inside the bottle was warm and shaken, and when the cap popped off, the pop gushed all over my clean sheets. It was now the period called Grand Silence (after night prayer until after Mass the following morning) so we didn’t make a peep, but we were laughing so hard our faces were bright red. My roommate took the bottle from my hand and took a swig. Again, the agitated orange pop gushed out of the bottle—all over her clean sheets. We got one new sheet every week in the convent. On laundry day (I think it was Wednesday), you stripped off the bottom sheet and put it in the wash. Then the top sheet became the bottom sheet, and a clean new sheet (placed on the foot of your bed by the senior novice in your dorm) went on top. And so forth. Since the day we entered was a Monday, we skipped the sheet exchange that Wednesday. So my roommate and I slept on at least one of our sticky orange sheets for three weeks running.

I remember the same roommate’s mother also brought her some delicious ripe Concord grapes from their home vine a month later, and my roommate tried to make wine out of them in a plastic dishpan which she kept in the skate room (there was a room for everything in the convent). Somebody smelled the fermenting grapes, however, and poured it all down the big sink.

I remember in the fall when we kids were in our early teens that we would try to smoke anything. When we ran out of butts from our parents’ ashtrays, we’d smoke dried tomato vines (while they lacked nicotine, to us they had some of the real cachet of cigarettes). One day we decided to crumble some dried leaves and roll them in paper. The only paper we had was some brown butcher paper, so we rolled a nice fat cigarette in it. I put one end in my mouth and lit the other with a farmer match. I took a good puff, and the thing burst into flames, singeing the tip of my nose. Nobody noticed my red nose that night at supper. Thank god for hay fever.

I remember getting our first television set when I was a junior in high school. There was hardly any national programming at first but lots of local news and chat programs, TEST PATTERNS (we watched those, too), early pre-Disney cartoons, and old foreign, i.e., British, movies--subtitles had not been invented yet. The only national programming I ever remember watching was the Ed Sullivan show, Red Skelton, and Monsignor Fulton J. Sheen.

In the years before television, all kids played outside, no matter the weather. In the winter, especially on the rare occasions when we had an actual blizzard and the Fargo schools were closed, our mothers would wrap several wool scarves around our heads over our wool hats so that you could see where you were going but your cheeks and nose and forehead and the tips of your ears were protected from frostbite. Still, I remember sitting behind boys in school and noticing the raw sores where the tips of their ears had been frostbitten.

We would dig snow forts in the huge drifts created when people shoveled their sidewalks. Snow forts were like igloos--they were warm! The temperature of the air could be 20 degrees below zero (or worse--the US had not taken up the nasty Canadian habit of reporting winter temperatures as WIND CHILL), but inside the snow fort/igloo, the temperature was more like the temperature of the snow, which is 32 degrees ABOVE ZERO. You could take off your scarves and eat the pure white snow.

Gran’s greatest last-minute gifts!!

Running out of time? Snowed in? Try one of these.

10. Omaha Steaks for all, even the vegetarians.

9. Harry & David’s Moose Munch--hell with the fruit.

8. A year’s supply of peanut butter from Zingerman’s.

7. Contribute the amount you would have spent on new iPods to Oxfam in their name.

6. Rebuilt blender from Amazon.com

5. Matching Easter tablecloth and napkins from Sur la Table outlet.

4. The complete Dixie Chicks ouvre from www.dixiechicks.com.

3. Same as #7, but send the $$ to Natalie Maines’s prisoner fund.

2. Same as #7, but send the $$ to Planned Parenthood.

1. The holiday card, per usual, but DO NOT PUT THE MONEY IN!! Let them wonder if you’re losing your marbles but be too embarrassed to ask.

Tequila Christmas Cake

Once again this holiday, I have had numerous requests for my tequila Christmas cake, so here goes: Please keep in your files as I am getting tired of typing this up every year!

1 cup sugar
1 tsp. baking powder
1 cup water
1 tsp. salt
1 cup brown sugar
Lemon juice
4 large eggs
Nuts
1 bottle tequila
2 cups dried fruit

Sample the tequila to check quality. Take out a large bowl, check the tequila again to be sure it is of the highest quality.

Repeat.

Turn on the electric mixer. Beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl.
Add 1 teaspoon of sugar. Beat again.

At this point, it is best to make sure the tequila is sstill OK. Try another cup just in case.

Turn off the mixerer thingy.

Break 2 legs and add to the bowl and chuck in the cup of dried fruit.

Pick the fruit up off the floor.

Mix on the turner.

If the fried druit getas stuck in the beaterers, just pry it loose with a drewscriver.

Sample the tequila to test for tonsisticity.

Next, sift 2 cups of salt, or something.

Check the tequila.

Now shift the lemon juice and strain your nuts.

Add one table.

Add a spoon of sugar, or somefink. Whatever you can find.

Greash the oven.

Turn the cake tin 360 degrees and try not to fall over.

Don't forget to beat off the turner

Finally, throw the bowl through the window.

Finish the tequila and wipe the counter with the cat.

Cherry Christmas


[thankx and a tip of the Christmas stocking cap to M'reen]

"i'm dreaming of a white christmas"

this wonderful animated cartoon was created by Joshua Held in 2002. check it out!! if you knew me last year, you probably got it from me by e-mail. it's worth another look.

this year i can HEAR it!! last year, i could only imagine what it sounded like.

Diary of a Snow Shoveler

In honor of this week's theme, which seems to be SNOW and, by some kind of derivation, MINNESOTA, I'm posting the following, which is from a Minnesota website with lots of Minnesota jokes and stories. This post, btw, is dedicated to our bloggy neighbor to the north, Ronniecat, who is working on her own snow shoveling diary.

Diary Of A Snow Shoveler
December 8: 6:00 PM. It started to snow. The first snow of the season and the wife and I took our cocktails and sat for hours by the window watching the huge soft flakes drift down from heaven. It looked like a Grandma Moses print. So romantic we felt like newlyweds again. I love snow!

December 9: We woke to a beautiful blanket of crystal white snow covering every inch of the landscape. What a fantastic sight! Can there be a more lovely place in the Whole World? Moving here was the best idea I've ever had. Shoveled snow for the first time in years and felt like a boy again. I did both our driveway and the sidewalks. This afternoon the snowplow came along and covered up the sidewalks and closed in the driveway, so I got to shovel again. What a perfect life.

December 12: The sun has melted all our lovely snow. Such a disappointment. My neighbor tells me not to worry, we'll definitely have a white Christmas. No snow on Christmas would be awful! Bob says we'll have so much snow by the end of winter, that I'll never want to see snow again. l don't think that's possible. Bob is such a nice man I'm glad he's our neighbor.

December 14: Snow lovely snow! 8" last night. The temperature dropped to -20. The cold makes everything sparkle so. The wind took my breath away, but I warmed up by shoveling the driveway and sidewalks. This is the life! The snowplow came back this afternoon and buried everything again. l didn't realize I would have to do quite this much shoveling, but I'll certainly get back in shape this way. I wish l wouldn't huff and puff so.

December 15: 20 inches forecast. Sold my van and bought a 4x4 Blazer. Bought snow tires for the wife's car and 2 extra shovels. Stocked the freezer. The wife wants a wood stove in case the electricity goes out. I think that's silly. We aren't in Alaska, after all.

December 16: Ice storm this morning. Fell on my ass on the ice in the driveway putting down salt. Hurt like hell. The wife laughed for an hour, which I think was very cruel.

December 17: Still way below freezing. Roads are too icy to go anywhere. Electricity was off for 5 hours. I had to pile the blankets on to stay warm. Nothing to do but stare at the wife and try not to irritate her. Guess I should've bought a wood stove, but won't admit it to her. God I hate it when she's right. I can't believe I'm freezing to death in my own living room.

December 20: Electricity's back on, but had another 14" of damn snow last night. More shoveling. Took all day. Goddamn snowplow came by twice. Tried to find a neighbor kid to shovel, but they said they're too busy playing hockey. I think they're lying. Called the only hardware store around to see about buying a snow blower and they're out. Might have another shipment in March. I think they're lying. Bob says I have to shovel or the city will have it done and bill me. I think he's lying.

December 22: Bob was right about a white Christmas because 13 more inches of the white sh*t fell today, and it's so cold it probably won't melt till August. Took me 45 minutes to get all dressed up to go out to shovel and then I had to piss. By the time I got undressed, pissed and dressed again. I was too tired to shovel. Tried to hire Bob who has a plow on his truck for the rest of the winter; but he says he's too busy. I think the asshole is lying.

December 23: Only 2" of snow today. And it warmed up to 0. The wife wanted me to decorate the front of the house this morning. What is she nuts!!! Why didn't she tell me to do that a month ago? She says she did but I think she's lying.

December 24: 6". Snow packed so hard by snowplow, l broke the shovel. Thought I was having a heart attack. I know the son of a bitch who drives that snowplow hides around the corner and waits for me to finish shoveling and then he comes down the street at a 100 miles an hour and throws snow all over where I've just been! Tonight the wife wanted me to sing Christmas carols with her and open our presents, but I was busy watching for that goddamn snowplow.

December 25: Merry Christmas. 20 more inches of the !=3D@x@!x!x1 slop tonight. Snowed in. The idea of shoveling makes my blood boil. God I hate the snow! Then the snowplow driver came by asking for a donation and I hit him over the head with my shovel. The wife says I have a bad attitude. I think she's an idiot. If I have to watch "It's a Wonderful Life" one more time, I'm going to smack her big ass with the shovel.

December 26: Still snowed in. Why the hell did I ever move here? It was all HER idea. She's really getting on my nerves.

December 27: Temperature dropped to -30 and the pipes froze.

December 28: Warmed up to above -20. Still snowed in. THE B***H is driving me crazy!!!!!

December 29: 10 more inches. Bob says I have to shovel the roof or it could cave in. That's the silliest thing I ever heard. How dumb does he think I am?

December 30: Roof caved in. The snow plow driver is suing me for a million dollars. The wife went home to her mother. 9" predicted.

December 31: Set fire to what's left of the house. No more shoveling.

January 8: I feel so good. I just love those little white pills they keep giving me. Why am I tied to the bed?

-Author Unknown

First Snowfall!!

the first measurable snow fell today. there were five or six flakes falling yesterday morning, but nothing stuck. the photo is the view outside of the student activity center. i took it while i was on my way to the skool trough for a bracing cup of texmex chili at $1.50 a pop!! i also wrote a comment on the "Snows of Yesteryear" post on Red Nose's blog. In the interests of economy and laziness, i'm reprinting that comment here:

the first winter i lived in these parts (having moved here from...tada...minnesota), i was walking to the metro stop one morning and admiring the new snow...the kind where you can still see the greeny grass underneath. the sidewalks were clear, ditto the streets, and i enjoyed the lovely wet flakes falling. i got to eastern market, where my place of employment usually had a shuttlebus waiting, and discovered two fellow shuttlebus passengers laughing and whooping it up. "school's closed," they said. "what?? why?" another bomb threat, no doubt. "cuz of the snow." "the SNOW???!!!" I looked around. there was now a good inch of snow on the sidewalks, though you could still see the grass. oboyoboyoboy....i went home and, heeheeing like a fool, sent emails to my friends back on the tundra: "you won't believe this, but...."

i don't watch local news, but if i wake up and there's a snow flake falling, i dash to the TV to watch the school closings, hoping and praying they'll close mine. that winter, they closed it three times! for hardly any snow, too.

i agree. it's time for another good snowfall. blizzard? don't make me laugh. you don't have blizzards here, and you never will. it's not cold enough (at least 15 below) or windy (at least 20 mph) enough. but boy, you sure close things at the drop of a hat!

luxury bus to nyc

in honor of my latest birthday, cathy got us tickets on the "luxury" bus to gotham city on saturday. up and back in one day, etc. thanks so much, kiddo.

they call it the luxury bus cuz a) it's express, b) they show movies ("ocean's thirteen"), and c) they give you a free bottle of water when you board (after making the online disclaimer that if there isn't any water for a particular trip, they're sorry). for the first two hours or so, either they had the AC on, or the heater wasn't working. i covered my legs with newspapers, which helped, but it was still damn cold.

but they did have a brief rest stop somewhere in delaware or new jersey, which made cathy mighty happy. she says i am part camel because i don't have to go to the restroom every two hours or so.

and of course, the trip took lots longer than i thought it would. i told sally we'd arrive at 12:45, and it was 1:45. what was i thinking? i should have known that my rotten eyesight was wrongwrongwrong--that no bus or car can go from d.c. to 34th street across from macy's in 3 hours. the ride from the exit of the lincoln tunnel to 34th st takes about half an hour all by itself!

we met sally at starbucks on 34th, and in her urban-dwelling style, she grabbed a taxi by just marching--in the street!!--down the block to a cab that was letting someone off. that's my kid! sally took us to ariana, the afghan kabob restaurant on 9th ave between 51st and 52nd st, and had a fabulous minor feast (no grand gorging...we still had another restaurant stop at 5 pm). many thanks, sal. thanks for the elegant french scarf, too.

after lunch, sally caught the bus back to glen ridge, and cathy and i went to the morgan library on mad ave and 36th. we saw the exhibit of 20 actual letters between vincent van gogh and emile bernard. van gogh used to draw sketches of his paintings on these letters, and who ever mounted the exhibit included a miniature of the completed painting in full color. i loved seeing van gogh's handwriting and his inimitable signature. made me want to go find some new cartridges for my fountain pen so i can write real letters!!

then we found a taxi that took us to the wonderful bistro les amis on thompson and spring in soho. my dear friend mary lou lives just a few doors away down thompson street, so we collected her and went to the restaurant for supper. i love the place. and thanks to cathy for that dinner, too! it's quiet and cozy, has delicious food, and the owner's brother always remembers me. and of course, they all love mary lou, who has lived in the same apartment for the past 25 years. (rent control? do the math, baby....)

it wasn't paris-on-my-birthday, but it was lots of fun. we eschewed the luxury bus for the trip back and hopped amtrak, arriving home sometime after 11 pm.

i told cathy that every time we do this one-day round trip gig, i swear i'll never do it again. it's a long trip when you do it twice in one day. even though you snooze off and on, the trip back seems interminable. still, it was lots of fun to be back in gotham city. there were lots of shoppers on the sidewalks...one of the reasons why i never went near manhattan on the weekend when i lived up there.