 | 20 As a 1930s wife, I am |
This is the only test I can honestly say I didn't give a hoot about passing. I'm sure none of you are surprised by the result.
You can take the test here - they also have a test for men.
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
Monday, July 07, 2008
The power of travel. The power of human connection.
My sister-in-law sent this to me by email today. This sums up, I think, much better than I ever could, why I love to and want to continue to travel all over the world.
Watch the video and then read the article below....Maybe I just needed to be a little less academically motivated!?
---------
July 8, 2008
A Private Dance?
Four Million Web Fans Say No
By CHARLES MCGRATH
There are no weekend box office charts for online videos. But if there were, near or at the very top of the list right now might well be a four-and-a-half-minute video called “Dancing,” which more than four million people have viewed on YouTube, and perhaps another million on other sites, in the just over two weeks since it appeared. It’s the online equivalent of a platinum hit, seeping from one computer to the next like a virus.
The title is not misleading. “Dancing” shows a guy dancing: a big, doughy-looking fellow in shorts and hiking boots performing an arm-swinging, knee-pumping step that could charitably be called goofy. It’s the kind of semi-ironic dance that boys do by themselves at junior high mixers when they’re too embarrassed to partner with actual girls.
The dancer is Matt Harding, the 31-year-old creator of the video, and with some New Agey-sounding music playing in the background, he turns up, grinning and bouncing, in 69 different locations, including India, Kuwait, Bhutan, Tonga, Timbuktu and the Nellis Airspace in Nevada, where he performs the dance in zero gravity.
He started doing it at work, years ago, when he was living in Brisbane, Australia. “I’d dance at lunchtime or during an awkward pause or just to annoy people,” Mr. Harding said. “It was sort of a nervous tic.”
Now he’s on the streets in Mumbai one minute, balanced on the Giant’s Causeway rock formation in Northern Ireland the next, and then he’s in a tulip field in the Netherlands or in front of a geyser in Iceland. Sometimes Mr. Harding dances alone. On a Christmas Island beach he has an audience of crabs, and on Madagascar he performs for lemurs.
But more often — and this accounts for much of the video’s appeal — he’s in the company of others: South African street children in Soweto, bushmen in New Guinea, Bollywood-style dancers in India, some oddly costumed waitresses in Tokyo, crowds of free spirits in Paris, Madrid and rainy Montreal, all copying, or trying to, his flailing chicken-step. Mr. Harding even dances for a lone military policeman (unmoved to join him) in the Korean demilitarized zone.
In many ways “Dancing” is an almost perfect piece of Internet art: it’s short, pleasingly weird and so minimal in its content that it’s open to a multitude of interpretations. It could be a little commercial for one-world feel-goodism. It could be an allegory of American foreign policy: a bumptious foreigner turning up all over the world and answering just to his own inner music. Or it could be about nothing at all — just a guy dancing.
However you interpret it, you can’t watch “Dancing” for very long without feeling a little happier. The music (by Gary Schyman, a friend of Mr. Harding’s, and set to a poem by Rabindranath Tagore, sung in Bengali by Palbasha Siddique, a 17-year-old native of Bangladesh now living in Minneapolis) is both catchy and haunting. The backgrounds are often quite beautiful. And there is something sweetly touching and uplifting about the spectacle of all these different nationalities, people of almost every age and color, dancing along with an uninhibited doofus.
Children, not surprisingly, turn out to be the best at picking up on Mr. Harding’s infectious vibe. There’s frequently a grown-up, on the other hand — especially one in the front row of a crowd — who tends to ham it up and make a fool of himself.
The other remarkable thing about the “Dancing” phenomenon is that it is, to a very considerable extent, a creation of the Internet. It doesn’t just live, so to speak, on the Web; it was the Web that, more or less accidentally, brought it into being. The current video is actually the third iteration of a project that began in 2003, when a friend, using a Canon pocket camera with the capacity to record brief videos (when it was still something of a novelty), shot Mr. Harding doing his dance in Hanoi.
It was the equivalent of taking a photograph as a souvenir, Mr. Harding said in a phone conversation recently while driving with his girlfriend in Northern California. Mr. Harding, who grew up in Westport, Conn., skipped college at the suggestion of his father, who didn’t see the point of paying tuition for someone he thought was unmotivated. He has been employed in a video game store and as a designer of video games, but prefers just to travel. “It’s one thing I’m really good at,” he said.
He collected all the dancing shots from that first trip in 2003, edited them into a little video with a soundtrack from an adaptation of a traditional song from the Solomon Islands, performed by the group Deep Forest, and, at his sister’s suggestion, posted it on his Web site, wherethehellismatt.com. (No reference intended to the “Today” show feature “Where in the World Is Matt Lauer?” “I’m almost never up that early,” Mr. Harding said.)
The video went up in the fall of 2004, before YouTube or the other big video upload sites, but even so it quickly became a hit among the people trolling the Internet back then.
“It got picked up by somethingawful.com and sites like that,” Mr. Harding recalled. “Usually, what they showed was people getting hurt or doing something really stupid, so I was bracing myself for abuse, but everyone seemed to like it.”
So did the newly formed Stride chewing gum company, which offered to underwrite Mr. Harding’s subsequent travels, virtually no strings attached. (In the 2006 version the Stride name pops up in the corner of the screen every now and then, and, in the newest video, the company is acknowledged at the very end, but amazingly, in this era of shameless commercial tie-ins, Mr. Harding is not obliged to wear a Stride T-shirt or deliver a little pitch for the product. Exactly what connection the company sees between gum and a guy dancing, but not chewing, remains a bit of a mystery.)
In 2005 Mr. Harding released a second video much like the first — exotic locations, guy dancing, New Agey music — except with better sound and camera resolution, and in 2006 he went back to Stride and asked if he could repeat the venture, this time with other people dancing along with him.
The idea first came to him in 2006, he recalled, when he was dancing with some street kids in Rwanda. “If I had tried dancing with kids in a mall in San Francisco, say, I probably would have got arrested,” he said. “But in Africa there aren’t any barriers, and there’s immediate access to this kind of joy and irreverence.”
He added: “Those first videos were something I needed to do for me, but I realized then that watching me dance was getting a little old. The new video pushes a different button — you’ve got all these different people doing the same thing. I remember thinking, ‘Wouldn’t it be neat if you could capture that?’ ”
The new video has better photography still and a score, called “Praan,” that Mr. Schyman orchestrated for a 25-piece band. For the lyrics, he and Mr. Harding decided to stick with a language other than English (because it’s less of a cliché, Mr. Harding said) — but how do you find someone who can sing Bengali? On the Internet, of course. Mr. Harding’s girlfriend, Melissa Nixon, who works for Google, discovered Ms. Siddique on YouTube.
Mr. Harding is aware that fame on the Internet is fleeting, and needs novelty for life support. On the one hand, data is never lost — it’s floating out there in cyberspace forever — but, on the other, our memories (and those of our computers) are limited and subject to constant upgrades. A video is downloaded, sent to a friend or two and then quickly forgotten. Who anymore goes back to look at that animated dancing baby that was all the rage in the ’90s? So Mr. Harding isn’t certain yet whether he wants to make a sequel.
“I wouldn’t want to make another video unless there was something to say that I hadn’t said,” he explained. “I’m going to see if there’s something more to be done, but if not, I’m happy with what there is. I don’t want to pop the bubble.”
Watch the video and then read the article below....Maybe I just needed to be a little less academically motivated!?
---------
July 8, 2008
A Private Dance?
Four Million Web Fans Say No
By CHARLES MCGRATH
There are no weekend box office charts for online videos. But if there were, near or at the very top of the list right now might well be a four-and-a-half-minute video called “Dancing,” which more than four million people have viewed on YouTube, and perhaps another million on other sites, in the just over two weeks since it appeared. It’s the online equivalent of a platinum hit, seeping from one computer to the next like a virus.
The title is not misleading. “Dancing” shows a guy dancing: a big, doughy-looking fellow in shorts and hiking boots performing an arm-swinging, knee-pumping step that could charitably be called goofy. It’s the kind of semi-ironic dance that boys do by themselves at junior high mixers when they’re too embarrassed to partner with actual girls.
The dancer is Matt Harding, the 31-year-old creator of the video, and with some New Agey-sounding music playing in the background, he turns up, grinning and bouncing, in 69 different locations, including India, Kuwait, Bhutan, Tonga, Timbuktu and the Nellis Airspace in Nevada, where he performs the dance in zero gravity.
He started doing it at work, years ago, when he was living in Brisbane, Australia. “I’d dance at lunchtime or during an awkward pause or just to annoy people,” Mr. Harding said. “It was sort of a nervous tic.”
Now he’s on the streets in Mumbai one minute, balanced on the Giant’s Causeway rock formation in Northern Ireland the next, and then he’s in a tulip field in the Netherlands or in front of a geyser in Iceland. Sometimes Mr. Harding dances alone. On a Christmas Island beach he has an audience of crabs, and on Madagascar he performs for lemurs.
But more often — and this accounts for much of the video’s appeal — he’s in the company of others: South African street children in Soweto, bushmen in New Guinea, Bollywood-style dancers in India, some oddly costumed waitresses in Tokyo, crowds of free spirits in Paris, Madrid and rainy Montreal, all copying, or trying to, his flailing chicken-step. Mr. Harding even dances for a lone military policeman (unmoved to join him) in the Korean demilitarized zone.
In many ways “Dancing” is an almost perfect piece of Internet art: it’s short, pleasingly weird and so minimal in its content that it’s open to a multitude of interpretations. It could be a little commercial for one-world feel-goodism. It could be an allegory of American foreign policy: a bumptious foreigner turning up all over the world and answering just to his own inner music. Or it could be about nothing at all — just a guy dancing.
However you interpret it, you can’t watch “Dancing” for very long without feeling a little happier. The music (by Gary Schyman, a friend of Mr. Harding’s, and set to a poem by Rabindranath Tagore, sung in Bengali by Palbasha Siddique, a 17-year-old native of Bangladesh now living in Minneapolis) is both catchy and haunting. The backgrounds are often quite beautiful. And there is something sweetly touching and uplifting about the spectacle of all these different nationalities, people of almost every age and color, dancing along with an uninhibited doofus.
Children, not surprisingly, turn out to be the best at picking up on Mr. Harding’s infectious vibe. There’s frequently a grown-up, on the other hand — especially one in the front row of a crowd — who tends to ham it up and make a fool of himself.
The other remarkable thing about the “Dancing” phenomenon is that it is, to a very considerable extent, a creation of the Internet. It doesn’t just live, so to speak, on the Web; it was the Web that, more or less accidentally, brought it into being. The current video is actually the third iteration of a project that began in 2003, when a friend, using a Canon pocket camera with the capacity to record brief videos (when it was still something of a novelty), shot Mr. Harding doing his dance in Hanoi.
It was the equivalent of taking a photograph as a souvenir, Mr. Harding said in a phone conversation recently while driving with his girlfriend in Northern California. Mr. Harding, who grew up in Westport, Conn., skipped college at the suggestion of his father, who didn’t see the point of paying tuition for someone he thought was unmotivated. He has been employed in a video game store and as a designer of video games, but prefers just to travel. “It’s one thing I’m really good at,” he said.
He collected all the dancing shots from that first trip in 2003, edited them into a little video with a soundtrack from an adaptation of a traditional song from the Solomon Islands, performed by the group Deep Forest, and, at his sister’s suggestion, posted it on his Web site, wherethehellismatt.com. (No reference intended to the “Today” show feature “Where in the World Is Matt Lauer?” “I’m almost never up that early,” Mr. Harding said.)
The video went up in the fall of 2004, before YouTube or the other big video upload sites, but even so it quickly became a hit among the people trolling the Internet back then.
“It got picked up by somethingawful.com and sites like that,” Mr. Harding recalled. “Usually, what they showed was people getting hurt or doing something really stupid, so I was bracing myself for abuse, but everyone seemed to like it.”
So did the newly formed Stride chewing gum company, which offered to underwrite Mr. Harding’s subsequent travels, virtually no strings attached. (In the 2006 version the Stride name pops up in the corner of the screen every now and then, and, in the newest video, the company is acknowledged at the very end, but amazingly, in this era of shameless commercial tie-ins, Mr. Harding is not obliged to wear a Stride T-shirt or deliver a little pitch for the product. Exactly what connection the company sees between gum and a guy dancing, but not chewing, remains a bit of a mystery.)
In 2005 Mr. Harding released a second video much like the first — exotic locations, guy dancing, New Agey music — except with better sound and camera resolution, and in 2006 he went back to Stride and asked if he could repeat the venture, this time with other people dancing along with him.
The idea first came to him in 2006, he recalled, when he was dancing with some street kids in Rwanda. “If I had tried dancing with kids in a mall in San Francisco, say, I probably would have got arrested,” he said. “But in Africa there aren’t any barriers, and there’s immediate access to this kind of joy and irreverence.”
He added: “Those first videos were something I needed to do for me, but I realized then that watching me dance was getting a little old. The new video pushes a different button — you’ve got all these different people doing the same thing. I remember thinking, ‘Wouldn’t it be neat if you could capture that?’ ”
The new video has better photography still and a score, called “Praan,” that Mr. Schyman orchestrated for a 25-piece band. For the lyrics, he and Mr. Harding decided to stick with a language other than English (because it’s less of a cliché, Mr. Harding said) — but how do you find someone who can sing Bengali? On the Internet, of course. Mr. Harding’s girlfriend, Melissa Nixon, who works for Google, discovered Ms. Siddique on YouTube.
Mr. Harding is aware that fame on the Internet is fleeting, and needs novelty for life support. On the one hand, data is never lost — it’s floating out there in cyberspace forever — but, on the other, our memories (and those of our computers) are limited and subject to constant upgrades. A video is downloaded, sent to a friend or two and then quickly forgotten. Who anymore goes back to look at that animated dancing baby that was all the rage in the ’90s? So Mr. Harding isn’t certain yet whether he wants to make a sequel.
“I wouldn’t want to make another video unless there was something to say that I hadn’t said,” he explained. “I’m going to see if there’s something more to be done, but if not, I’m happy with what there is. I don’t want to pop the bubble.”
More on the mysterious sore spot
I had a Physical Therapy appointment today and dilvulged the diagnosis/prognosis (or lack thereof) from my surgeon about the sore spot on my thigh.
I have to say it was self-affirming to see the look of disgust and confusion on my PT's face. It's not just me.
Sensing my frustration with said sore-spot, he dug deep (quite literally in some cases) to learn more about its characteristics. Pressing, rubbing, and massaging various points on my hip, butt and thigh led him to doubt that the soreness is the result of any nerve damage - a relief, sort of. The soreness is entirely localized, meaning that it only hurts in the precise spot you put pressure on, at the time you put pressure on it. If it was a nerve, he said, certain movements would trigger the pain, as would pressure elsewhere on the nerve itself - none of which happens. It's more like a bruise - it hurts only when and where you put pressure on it. So, this leads him to believe that it is a soft-tissue issue (say that ten times fast).
He thinks that the months and weeks of massage for my IT band may have caused some soft tissue damage (which wouldn't be surprising given the voracity of the manual therapy I've had in the last 3 months) but I'm not confident in that part of the diagnosis. I've had this soreness/pain since the surgery itself and I can assure you, I wasn't massaging anything then - I could barely touch it.
One thing he did literally guffaw at was the surgeon's suggestion to give me a cortisone shot. As I thought, cortisone shots are not usually administered in soft tissue but instead into joints/sockets and since this is not a joint issue, he has no idea what the surgeon is thinking.
So none of this gives me any concrete answers. Ultimately, I think I just have to make an appointment with my PCP and see what she suggests at this point.
In the meantime, I'm continuing the heat-and-ice dance and avoiding pressure on the area as much as possible to see if we can chill my pore, sore flesh out.
I have to say it was self-affirming to see the look of disgust and confusion on my PT's face. It's not just me.
Sensing my frustration with said sore-spot, he dug deep (quite literally in some cases) to learn more about its characteristics. Pressing, rubbing, and massaging various points on my hip, butt and thigh led him to doubt that the soreness is the result of any nerve damage - a relief, sort of. The soreness is entirely localized, meaning that it only hurts in the precise spot you put pressure on, at the time you put pressure on it. If it was a nerve, he said, certain movements would trigger the pain, as would pressure elsewhere on the nerve itself - none of which happens. It's more like a bruise - it hurts only when and where you put pressure on it. So, this leads him to believe that it is a soft-tissue issue (say that ten times fast).
He thinks that the months and weeks of massage for my IT band may have caused some soft tissue damage (which wouldn't be surprising given the voracity of the manual therapy I've had in the last 3 months) but I'm not confident in that part of the diagnosis. I've had this soreness/pain since the surgery itself and I can assure you, I wasn't massaging anything then - I could barely touch it.
One thing he did literally guffaw at was the surgeon's suggestion to give me a cortisone shot. As I thought, cortisone shots are not usually administered in soft tissue but instead into joints/sockets and since this is not a joint issue, he has no idea what the surgeon is thinking.
So none of this gives me any concrete answers. Ultimately, I think I just have to make an appointment with my PCP and see what she suggests at this point.
In the meantime, I'm continuing the heat-and-ice dance and avoiding pressure on the area as much as possible to see if we can chill my pore, sore flesh out.
Hot! Hot! Hot!
73 degrees. Sounds like a reasonable, enjoyable, summer temperature, doesn't it? Ha! Well, not at 4:30am it isn't. That's right - it was 73 degrees as I headed out to the gym this morning and there was not a whiff of a breeze in sight. When there's not even a gulp of cool air available first thing in the morning, you know it's going to be a bad day.
The weather forecast for Sacramento is triple-digit and above temperatures for most of this week and, with little-to-no breeze, air quality in the proverbial pooper. It's so bad in neighboring Placer County that the morning news didn't even have enough "AQI" (Air Quality Index) left on their graph to measure it! There are still 300+ fires burning in California and the majority of them are in the northern part of the state. There has been a constant haze around everything now for more than 2 weeks. IT IS NOT NICE.
Quite apart from anything else I am dreading my electricity bill this month. It was $200+ last month and that was only with moderately warm weather. Our AC kicked-on at 7am this morning (we have it set to a very responsible 78 degrees) and, without the ability to open the windows to let cool air in (there is none and, anyway, it's smoky outside), it's going to be grinding away all day just to keep the house below 80. Chalk another one up to the unexpected disadvantages of working from home - higher electricity bills.
Fortunately, my Dad left just in time for the weather to go from bad to worse. Yes, the reason I have been somewhat off-the-map for the last 2.5 weeks is that my Dad was out here on his own for the first time EVER.
Since he and Mum bought a house just a mile away from me, Dad (who is recently retired) decided to come out to get some decorating and yard work done. The result was that we got to spend the most devoted father-daughter time we've had in... well... a long, long time. I've been in the U.S. for 13 years and this is the first time he's been here without Mum and the first time either of them have been out for more than 2 weeks at a time. Prior to that, while I lived with my parents in England, it's not like Dad and I routinely "hung out" together. So, this was a real treat.
Click here for some more photos of our time together.
The weather forecast in London? 59 degrees with thunderstorms. That British "summer" is looking preeeetty good about now.
The weather forecast for Sacramento is triple-digit and above temperatures for most of this week and, with little-to-no breeze, air quality in the proverbial pooper. It's so bad in neighboring Placer County that the morning news didn't even have enough "AQI" (Air Quality Index) left on their graph to measure it! There are still 300+ fires burning in California and the majority of them are in the northern part of the state. There has been a constant haze around everything now for more than 2 weeks. IT IS NOT NICE.
Quite apart from anything else I am dreading my electricity bill this month. It was $200+ last month and that was only with moderately warm weather. Our AC kicked-on at 7am this morning (we have it set to a very responsible 78 degrees) and, without the ability to open the windows to let cool air in (there is none and, anyway, it's smoky outside), it's going to be grinding away all day just to keep the house below 80. Chalk another one up to the unexpected disadvantages of working from home - higher electricity bills.
Fortunately, my Dad left just in time for the weather to go from bad to worse. Yes, the reason I have been somewhat off-the-map for the last 2.5 weeks is that my Dad was out here on his own for the first time EVER.
Since he and Mum bought a house just a mile away from me, Dad (who is recently retired) decided to come out to get some decorating and yard work done. The result was that we got to spend the most devoted father-daughter time we've had in... well... a long, long time. I've been in the U.S. for 13 years and this is the first time he's been here without Mum and the first time either of them have been out for more than 2 weeks at a time. Prior to that, while I lived with my parents in England, it's not like Dad and I routinely "hung out" together. So, this was a real treat.
Click here for some more photos of our time together.
The weather forecast in London? 59 degrees with thunderstorms. That British "summer" is looking preeeetty good about now.
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
It's only going to get worse, fellow travelers
If you were reading my blog about the time I was traveling to/from Jamaica, you'll know that I have thoroughly fallen out of love with flying - something which I used to have some perverse enjoyment of and viewed as 'part of' the vacation experience.
Unfortunately, it looks like things are only going to head from bad-to-worse. I read this article today in the Sacramento Business Journal:
The Incredible Shrinking Airlines
Joe Brancatelli - Portfolio.com
Airlines are getting smaller—fast—and that is going to have a profound and immediate effect on how you travel.
After guessing wrong on the direction of oil prices and generally reducing their hedging positions this year, the big airlines now face a world where jet fuel costs twice as much as it did a year ago. The major U.S. carriers have announced they will shrink by around 10 percent in 2008, and they will attempt to stem the red ink by slashing at their route networks and flight schedules. The longer oil stays above $100 a barrel—doesn't that sound like a blast from a much happier energy past?—the more the airlines will cut.That could mean some nasty surprises for travelers.
Here's what you need to know to help you understand the new airscape and plan for the coming weeks and months.
What You Don't Know...Some airlines have publicly trumpeted their cutbacks, all the better to underscore their parlous finances. But not everything is announced. Delta Air Lines, for example, is making sizable schedule reductions at its Atlanta, Salt Lake City, Los Angeles, and New York hubs. The carrier has been mum on details, however, because it wants to merge with Northwest Airlines and promised various government agencies that the combination wouldn't affect capacity. The lesson: Assume nothing. The flight you thought was there yesterday may not be on the schedule tomorrow.
Long and Short Are Most Vulnerable
You're at greatest risk of having a trip disrupted if it includes very long intercontinental flights or very short domestic commuter flights. The long hauls are going because they burn fuel simply to carry enough fuel to make the long runs. In fact, one European airline executive told me that his nonstop flights to the West Coast use about 30 percent more fuel per hour than his nonstops to the East Coast. So it's not surprising that Thai Airways is dropping its New York-Bangkok route (it stops at the end of the month) or Aer Lingus is cutting its Los Angeles-Dublin run (it ends in October). Meanwhile, the short commuter hops are going because the 37- and 50-seat regional jets aren't fuel-efficient either. It just doesn't make sense anymore to operate planes that carry so few passengers per flight.
Nonstops Are Being Stopped
Airlines are also eliminating routes that overfly their big hubs. One example: American Airlines has dropped most of its nonstop flights to Austin; most travelers now must connect through American's mega-complex in Dallas/Forth Worth. As airlines retreat, the larger hubs will fare better than the smaller ones. Last week, for example, Continental Airlines announced it would reduce flights at its Cleveland hub by 13 percent. The airline's much-larger connecting complex in Newark, New Jersey, however, is only losing 3 percent of its service. And the nation's most important hub, Chicago's O'Hare Airport, will see virtually no flight reductions. The federal government has capped the number of flights at O'Hare, and neither American nor United, the carriers that dominate the airport, want to risk losing any of their takeoff and landing slots.
Fewer Flights, Fewer Seats, Fewer Cities
Sharp-eyed travelers will notice three other startling trends: Fewer flights on once-popular routes, fewer seats on the remaining flights, and many cities disappearing from the route map. One example: US Airways announced last week that it would halve its operations at Las Vegas, from 141 daily departures to 74. As American Airlines contracts both its Miami and San Juan, Puerto Rico, hubs, the number of available seats between these Caribbean and Latin American flight centers is falling precipitously. This spring, American's seven daily flights offered a total of more than 1,700 seats. The fall schedule still shows seven flights, but smaller aircraft will be used, cutting the daily inventory to just 1,300 seats. Continental is dropping service to 15 cities entirely in September, dumping locales both mundane (Oakland, California, and Toledo, Ohio) and exotic (Bali, Indonesia, and Cali, Colombia).
Light Flights May Get Canned
As airlines obsess over oil—fuel now accounts for about 40 percent of a carrier's costs—a disreputable old practice called "flight consolidation" is returning. Despite what frequent flyers occasionally thought, network carriers in the past almost never canceled a scheduled flight because there were too few passengers; the airline needed the aircraft to get to its next destination to operate a subsequent flight. But with fuel costs what they are now, airlines may sometimes cancel a flight if too few passengers turn up at the gate. You'll probably be automatically re-booked on the airline's next flight. There's not much you can do if an airline abruptly cancels your flight; in fact, there's no way you can even be sure they "consolidated" your flight. All you can do is be prepared: Before you head off to the airport, get a list of other flights and connections that can get you where you need to go.
Panic Now, Book Later
If these cutbacks create a mild sensation of panic, it's understandable. But don't rush out to book flights now for trips six or eight months in the future. The airlines have raised published fares more than a dozen times this year and added a slew of new fees and restrictions. But many of the price increases are mitigated by the industry's reflexive, short-term discounting. You'd be better off waiting for the fuel-induced fare spikes to settle down. Besides, as it gets closer to departure, airlines will add discounts to help sell the remaining unsold seats. One more factor: Southwest Airlines, which is still profitable and still growing, hasn't even loaded its flight schedules and prices for travel beyond October 30. Southwest's competitors on its domestic routes will be forced to match whatever prices the new King of Skies eventually sets.
The Fine Print…American Airlines began charging most coach customers for checked bags on Sunday, June 15. United Airlines and US Airways have matched American's move to charge $15 for the first bag and $25 for the second, but their fees go into effect later in the summer.
-------------
And so the question is: Will this deter me from traveling? No. As much as I'd like to find a way to "stick it" to the airlines for making devoted travelers (and customers) like me pay for their poor business decisions, I don't see spending the rest of my life taking ridiculously expensive long weekends closer to home, as an option. BOOOORING.
Unfortunately, it looks like things are only going to head from bad-to-worse. I read this article today in the Sacramento Business Journal:
The Incredible Shrinking Airlines
Joe Brancatelli - Portfolio.com
Airlines are getting smaller—fast—and that is going to have a profound and immediate effect on how you travel.
After guessing wrong on the direction of oil prices and generally reducing their hedging positions this year, the big airlines now face a world where jet fuel costs twice as much as it did a year ago. The major U.S. carriers have announced they will shrink by around 10 percent in 2008, and they will attempt to stem the red ink by slashing at their route networks and flight schedules. The longer oil stays above $100 a barrel—doesn't that sound like a blast from a much happier energy past?—the more the airlines will cut.That could mean some nasty surprises for travelers.
Here's what you need to know to help you understand the new airscape and plan for the coming weeks and months.
What You Don't Know...Some airlines have publicly trumpeted their cutbacks, all the better to underscore their parlous finances. But not everything is announced. Delta Air Lines, for example, is making sizable schedule reductions at its Atlanta, Salt Lake City, Los Angeles, and New York hubs. The carrier has been mum on details, however, because it wants to merge with Northwest Airlines and promised various government agencies that the combination wouldn't affect capacity. The lesson: Assume nothing. The flight you thought was there yesterday may not be on the schedule tomorrow.
Long and Short Are Most Vulnerable
You're at greatest risk of having a trip disrupted if it includes very long intercontinental flights or very short domestic commuter flights. The long hauls are going because they burn fuel simply to carry enough fuel to make the long runs. In fact, one European airline executive told me that his nonstop flights to the West Coast use about 30 percent more fuel per hour than his nonstops to the East Coast. So it's not surprising that Thai Airways is dropping its New York-Bangkok route (it stops at the end of the month) or Aer Lingus is cutting its Los Angeles-Dublin run (it ends in October). Meanwhile, the short commuter hops are going because the 37- and 50-seat regional jets aren't fuel-efficient either. It just doesn't make sense anymore to operate planes that carry so few passengers per flight.
Nonstops Are Being Stopped
Airlines are also eliminating routes that overfly their big hubs. One example: American Airlines has dropped most of its nonstop flights to Austin; most travelers now must connect through American's mega-complex in Dallas/Forth Worth. As airlines retreat, the larger hubs will fare better than the smaller ones. Last week, for example, Continental Airlines announced it would reduce flights at its Cleveland hub by 13 percent. The airline's much-larger connecting complex in Newark, New Jersey, however, is only losing 3 percent of its service. And the nation's most important hub, Chicago's O'Hare Airport, will see virtually no flight reductions. The federal government has capped the number of flights at O'Hare, and neither American nor United, the carriers that dominate the airport, want to risk losing any of their takeoff and landing slots.
Fewer Flights, Fewer Seats, Fewer Cities
Sharp-eyed travelers will notice three other startling trends: Fewer flights on once-popular routes, fewer seats on the remaining flights, and many cities disappearing from the route map. One example: US Airways announced last week that it would halve its operations at Las Vegas, from 141 daily departures to 74. As American Airlines contracts both its Miami and San Juan, Puerto Rico, hubs, the number of available seats between these Caribbean and Latin American flight centers is falling precipitously. This spring, American's seven daily flights offered a total of more than 1,700 seats. The fall schedule still shows seven flights, but smaller aircraft will be used, cutting the daily inventory to just 1,300 seats. Continental is dropping service to 15 cities entirely in September, dumping locales both mundane (Oakland, California, and Toledo, Ohio) and exotic (Bali, Indonesia, and Cali, Colombia).
Light Flights May Get Canned
As airlines obsess over oil—fuel now accounts for about 40 percent of a carrier's costs—a disreputable old practice called "flight consolidation" is returning. Despite what frequent flyers occasionally thought, network carriers in the past almost never canceled a scheduled flight because there were too few passengers; the airline needed the aircraft to get to its next destination to operate a subsequent flight. But with fuel costs what they are now, airlines may sometimes cancel a flight if too few passengers turn up at the gate. You'll probably be automatically re-booked on the airline's next flight. There's not much you can do if an airline abruptly cancels your flight; in fact, there's no way you can even be sure they "consolidated" your flight. All you can do is be prepared: Before you head off to the airport, get a list of other flights and connections that can get you where you need to go.
Panic Now, Book Later
If these cutbacks create a mild sensation of panic, it's understandable. But don't rush out to book flights now for trips six or eight months in the future. The airlines have raised published fares more than a dozen times this year and added a slew of new fees and restrictions. But many of the price increases are mitigated by the industry's reflexive, short-term discounting. You'd be better off waiting for the fuel-induced fare spikes to settle down. Besides, as it gets closer to departure, airlines will add discounts to help sell the remaining unsold seats. One more factor: Southwest Airlines, which is still profitable and still growing, hasn't even loaded its flight schedules and prices for travel beyond October 30. Southwest's competitors on its domestic routes will be forced to match whatever prices the new King of Skies eventually sets.
The Fine Print…American Airlines began charging most coach customers for checked bags on Sunday, June 15. United Airlines and US Airways have matched American's move to charge $15 for the first bag and $25 for the second, but their fees go into effect later in the summer.
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And so the question is: Will this deter me from traveling? No. As much as I'd like to find a way to "stick it" to the airlines for making devoted travelers (and customers) like me pay for their poor business decisions, I don't see spending the rest of my life taking ridiculously expensive long weekends closer to home, as an option. BOOOORING.
$500 for...?
Today I finally received the bill for my hip surgery. The total damage (before insurance) was $29,000 or thereabouts. My portion is $500. Only about 2%, which would seem like a decent deal of course if I thought that, ultimately, the whole ordeal would have actually been worth it.
Let's do an assessment of what $500 has purchased me:
Pain: More than before the surgery*.
Stiffness: More than before the surgery.
Range of Motion: Less than before the surgery**.
Clicking: About the same as before the surgery. (Sample plains of motion, everything.)
New issues: 3 x 1/2 inch scars + nerve damage and pain in lower thigh.
Rehabilitation: $960 in Physical Therapy and Massage to date.
So, essentially, I paid $500 for 3 scars, a damaged nerve, and an ongoing therapy bill of $160 a month. Seems like I came out on the negative there, doesn't it?
The totally frustrating thing is that my gut knew it all along but I was obsessed with the "what if" of not doing it. Something about me just didn't trust that surgeon (Mr. Black D'Onofrio himself). I should have said "no way" when he agreed to be the primary on a procedure he had never done before. I realized that when, 20 minutes before the procedure, I practically hugged the co-surgeon and burst into tears on his shoulder when he came in to check on me. But I dismissed my doubts as chicken-shit fears.
My overall assessment = Bad Decision, TravelVixen.
Moral of the story/what I will take away from this = Gut instincts need to carry more weight, even if they're not entirely rational.
So, what now? Keep stretching, keep working out, hope it gets better. As for the nerve damage, no improvement since the last report a couple of weeks ago, so a neurologist referral looks likely in the near future. But if presented with any kind of option that requires an object or objects piercing my skin, the answer is QUITE CLEARLY NO.
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* "before the surgery"means with injury (not pre-injury), before the surgery. I wasn't in a lot of pain before and it's not a lot of pain now but everything is relative and it's still more than before I was supposedly "fixed".
** Granted, my ROM was good before and is above average now but that's only due to 30 minutes of stretching per day and 3 hours of intensive yoga per week. The week I went on vacation and stopped the stretching, I jumped back 20 steps.
Let's do an assessment of what $500 has purchased me:
Pain: More than before the surgery*.
Stiffness: More than before the surgery.
Range of Motion: Less than before the surgery**.
Clicking: About the same as before the surgery. (Sample plains of motion, everything.)
New issues: 3 x 1/2 inch scars + nerve damage and pain in lower thigh.
Rehabilitation: $960 in Physical Therapy and Massage to date.
So, essentially, I paid $500 for 3 scars, a damaged nerve, and an ongoing therapy bill of $160 a month. Seems like I came out on the negative there, doesn't it?
The totally frustrating thing is that my gut knew it all along but I was obsessed with the "what if" of not doing it. Something about me just didn't trust that surgeon (Mr. Black D'Onofrio himself). I should have said "no way" when he agreed to be the primary on a procedure he had never done before. I realized that when, 20 minutes before the procedure, I practically hugged the co-surgeon and burst into tears on his shoulder when he came in to check on me. But I dismissed my doubts as chicken-shit fears.
My overall assessment = Bad Decision, TravelVixen.
Moral of the story/what I will take away from this = Gut instincts need to carry more weight, even if they're not entirely rational.
So, what now? Keep stretching, keep working out, hope it gets better. As for the nerve damage, no improvement since the last report a couple of weeks ago, so a neurologist referral looks likely in the near future. But if presented with any kind of option that requires an object or objects piercing my skin, the answer is QUITE CLEARLY NO.
--------------
* "before the surgery"means with injury (not pre-injury), before the surgery. I wasn't in a lot of pain before and it's not a lot of pain now but everything is relative and it's still more than before I was supposedly "fixed".
** Granted, my ROM was good before and is above average now but that's only due to 30 minutes of stretching per day and 3 hours of intensive yoga per week. The week I went on vacation and stopped the stretching, I jumped back 20 steps.
A little help with your gas
Two things I learned this morning, both to do with putting gas in that little guzzler you drive to work every day.
1) Ground-breaking news in my in-box this morning, courtesy of Mum.
Have you ever rented or borrowed a car and when arriving at the petrol station wondered...mmm, which side is the petrol filler cap?My normal solution was to stick my head out the window, strain my neck and look, try to see in the side mirrors or even get out of the car. Well ladies and gentlemen, I'm going to share with you a little secret: if you look at your petrol gauge, you will see a small icon of a petrol pump. The handle of the petrol pump will extend out on either the left or right side of the petrol pump. If your tank is on the left, the handle will be on the left. If your tank is on the right, the handle will be on the right (see photo). It's that simple!
2) As seen on GMA
www.MyGallons.com offers money-saving gas cards, allowing you to lock-in today's per-gallon rate for a specified, pre-paid dollar amount. So, if gas is $4.30 per gallon right now, you could be $100 of gas, or 10 gallons and, even if gas prices go up to $4.50 per gallon, you still get 10 gallons for your $100. They even have a handy little savings calculator based upon the number of miles you drive per year and your average MPG. Even based upon my meagre driving, it estimates I could save $275 a year. There is a $29.95 membership fee but if you do not save money on at least one redemption throughout the subscription year, they will refund 100% of your first year's membership fee. The card is accepted at all stations accepting USBank's Voyager card and they have a station locator on their site. Even up here in the 'ghetto, I could find several stations within 2 miles of me.
Yes, just call me your newest consumer watchdog.
(As an aside, the damn Washington Post/Harvard Review called again last night. These people are gluttons for punishment. Only this time they got me and I wasn't as nice as Hubby. Don't think they will call again.)
1) Ground-breaking news in my in-box this morning, courtesy of Mum.
Have you ever rented or borrowed a car and when arriving at the petrol station wondered...mmm, which side is the petrol filler cap?My normal solution was to stick my head out the window, strain my neck and look, try to see in the side mirrors or even get out of the car. Well ladies and gentlemen, I'm going to share with you a little secret: if you look at your petrol gauge, you will see a small icon of a petrol pump. The handle of the petrol pump will extend out on either the left or right side of the petrol pump. If your tank is on the left, the handle will be on the left. If your tank is on the right, the handle will be on the right (see photo). It's that simple!
2) As seen on GMA
www.MyGallons.com offers money-saving gas cards, allowing you to lock-in today's per-gallon rate for a specified, pre-paid dollar amount. So, if gas is $4.30 per gallon right now, you could be $100 of gas, or 10 gallons and, even if gas prices go up to $4.50 per gallon, you still get 10 gallons for your $100. They even have a handy little savings calculator based upon the number of miles you drive per year and your average MPG. Even based upon my meagre driving, it estimates I could save $275 a year. There is a $29.95 membership fee but if you do not save money on at least one redemption throughout the subscription year, they will refund 100% of your first year's membership fee. The card is accepted at all stations accepting USBank's Voyager card and they have a station locator on their site. Even up here in the 'ghetto, I could find several stations within 2 miles of me.
Yes, just call me your newest consumer watchdog.
(As an aside, the damn Washington Post/Harvard Review called again last night. These people are gluttons for punishment. Only this time they got me and I wasn't as nice as Hubby. Don't think they will call again.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Whatever!?
Over the past week we've been getting calls from the Harvard Business Journal and the Washington Post, begging us to take part in a survey of some sort. Almost every time they call (and it's been almost 2-3 times daily), we pick up and let them know that we neither have the time nor the inclination to participate. Yet, they keep calling.
Most of the time we let it go to voicemail but occasionally we pick up and explain politely to the person on the other end (because they're just doing their job after all), that we're still not interested thank you.
Last night they called again (surprise) and Hubbie picked up the phone, explaining our disinterest for the millionth time. Several minutes later he headed out to the garage and, as he closed the door, the phone rang again. Since I was sitting comfortably on the couch, covered in dogs, I decided to let the answering machine get it. "Hello you've reached and , please leave us a message!" (For those of you who have never called us, our joint voicemail greeting is very happy and sweet, recorded just after we got married.)
Then, there was the perfunctory telesales 'pause', a sigh from the woman caller, and then loud and clear over the speaker she said "Whatever!"
That's right: whatever.
The telemarketer (or telesurveyor, whatever) actually took the time to leave us a snotty message, insulting our greeting.
To say I was peeved is an understatement. Which is why, when they called back again (not 10 minutes later), Hubby leapt for the phone and asked ever-so-politely that they please remove us from their list. He knew that some venomous retalliation was brewing in my throat. The woman he talked to had the audacity to argue with him about this request, telling him 'this wasn't a sales call'. You're right about that, honey, because a sales person would have been hungry enough for a deal that they wouldn't have insulted us on our answering machine.
WHATEVER.
Most of the time we let it go to voicemail but occasionally we pick up and explain politely to the person on the other end (because they're just doing their job after all), that we're still not interested thank you.
Last night they called again (surprise) and Hubbie picked up the phone, explaining our disinterest for the millionth time. Several minutes later he headed out to the garage and, as he closed the door, the phone rang again. Since I was sitting comfortably on the couch, covered in dogs, I decided to let the answering machine get it. "Hello you've reached
Then, there was the perfunctory telesales 'pause', a sigh from the woman caller, and then loud and clear over the speaker she said "Whatever!"
That's right: whatever.
The telemarketer (or telesurveyor, whatever) actually took the time to leave us a snotty message, insulting our greeting.
To say I was peeved is an understatement. Which is why, when they called back again (not 10 minutes later), Hubby leapt for the phone and asked ever-so-politely that they please remove us from their list. He knew that some venomous retalliation was brewing in my throat. The woman he talked to had the audacity to argue with him about this request, telling him 'this wasn't a sales call'. You're right about that, honey, because a sales person would have been hungry enough for a deal that they wouldn't have insulted us on our answering machine.
WHATEVER.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
On Day One
On my blogging travels last night, I found a cool new website called "On Day One". This site provides a forum for mere mortals, like you and I, to post our ideas and thoughts on what we think the next President of the United States should focus on, 'on day one' in the White House.
I guess you don't need 10 guesses to know what I wrote about. Here is my "Day One" first-item-on-the-agenda for President Obama (I hope):
Of course, I would have liked the ability to rant further and elaborate, but you only get so many characters.
Submit your own ideas by clicking here and feel free to share them with me on this blog too - I promise not to critique them, no matter which viewpoint they come from.
I guess you don't need 10 guesses to know what I wrote about. Here is my "Day One" first-item-on-the-agenda for President Obama (I hope):
Health care access for everyone should be issue #1. Health care costs are out of control, affecting the bottom line of companies as well as the take-home pay of many Americans. Many insured Americans are chronically underinsured and under constant threat of a critical illness wiping out their assets. The practices of insurers re: who and how they insure, needs reform. My husband was only 30 with
no major illnesses when he was turned down for individual insurance. THE SYSTEM NEEDS CHANGE!
Of course, I would have liked the ability to rant further and elaborate, but you only get so many characters.
Submit your own ideas by clicking here and feel free to share them with me on this blog too - I promise not to critique them, no matter which viewpoint they come from.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Assignment 1
Did I tell you I signed up for an online travel writing course? I don't think so. Well, I did and it started last week. The course is through The Learning Exchange and the online classroom features lessons, supplementary reading material suggestions, quizzes, weekly assignments, and an online discussion board where classmates can share and critique one another's work.
So, here goes...
I was born and raised just 11 miles east of London, just like my parents, grandparents, and their parents before them. As a child, Mum and I would jump on the London Underground for our twice yearly shopping trips to Oxford and Regent Streets or summer outings to palaces, castles, monuments, and museums. As a teenager I trekked-in daily to attend lectures at The University of the Arts. Whenever I get on the ‘tube’, it always just seems like yesterday that I was cramming myself into the first available seat during rush hour, photocopied text book pages and highlighter in hand, and using the 90 minute journey as a my study hall.
For me, stepping onto the London Underground is like putting on a pair of your favorite sweat pants before settling down in front of the tv – you just can’t relax and feel ‘at home’ until you do it.
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Edited to add...
This was my instructor's comment on my first article:
I am chuckling, this was fabulous prose. I know what you mean about slipping on the sweat pants feel of travel. I feel that way getting on an airplane. I immediately relax and sometimes fall asleep--no matter what time of day. The jets start and I'm tired. Loved your writing, Michelle. Eva
YOUR TURN!!!
I just finished the first assignment last night and thought it would be a good test of my chops to post it here for your honest review and critique. Yes, I said honest. The purpose of this course is to flex my creative writing skills (vs. my ranting ones that I use here without refinement) and get better, so there is no point in providing me with platitudes if you're going to comment.
So, here goes...
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First, the assignment (so you know what you're measuring me against)
In 50 to 300 words, describe your favorite place on the planet. Choose a place you really love. Write about your hometown or about the region where you live. You can write about the place where you took your last vacation. You can be informational or inspirational. You can be as flowery in the description as you choose. However, you may not use the words: Pretty, attractive, good, nice, beautiful, lovely, or other wishy-washy descriptive words. Further you may NOT use: very, really, especially, quite, or incredible.
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Now, my little ditty...
They’re decorated in bright checkers of red, green, and orange, assaulting your eyes under the glare of fluorescent lights. No AC means the air inside is heavy and choking with the smell of sweat in the summer. During the winter, hot air pumps out of floor-level vents, making that roll-neck sweater seem too close for comfort.
It’s often so quiet inside that opening a packet of crisps grabs the attention of everyone within a ten foot radius. Even when crowded, the only sound is the background percussion of russled papers, yawns, sneezes, and coughs, all timed to the boppedy-bop beat of the tracks.
They run on a schedule nobody even bothers to understand, they’re expensive, they’re often delayed by strike or bomb-threat but, to me, they’re a rite of passage back into the place I call home.
It’s often so quiet inside that opening a packet of crisps grabs the attention of everyone within a ten foot radius. Even when crowded, the only sound is the background percussion of russled papers, yawns, sneezes, and coughs, all timed to the boppedy-bop beat of the tracks.
They run on a schedule nobody even bothers to understand, they’re expensive, they’re often delayed by strike or bomb-threat but, to me, they’re a rite of passage back into the place I call home.
I was born and raised just 11 miles east of London, just like my parents, grandparents, and their parents before them. As a child, Mum and I would jump on the London Underground for our twice yearly shopping trips to Oxford and Regent Streets or summer outings to palaces, castles, monuments, and museums. As a teenager I trekked-in daily to attend lectures at The University of the Arts. Whenever I get on the ‘tube’, it always just seems like yesterday that I was cramming myself into the first available seat during rush hour, photocopied text book pages and highlighter in hand, and using the 90 minute journey as a my study hall.
For me, stepping onto the London Underground is like putting on a pair of your favorite sweat pants before settling down in front of the tv – you just can’t relax and feel ‘at home’ until you do it.
------------
Edited to add...
This was my instructor's comment on my first article:
I am chuckling, this was fabulous prose. I know what you mean about slipping on the sweat pants feel of travel. I feel that way getting on an airplane. I immediately relax and sometimes fall asleep--no matter what time of day. The jets start and I'm tired. Loved your writing, Michelle. Eva
YOUR TURN!!!
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Uppers and Downers
No, this is not a post about Amy Winehouse. It's a post about my morning so far.
UPPER
During my Bryan Kest Power Yoga workout this morning, I finally achieved the 'contortionist pose' (my name, not theirs) on my right side (the side with my bum hip.) In order to contortion oneself into the contortionist pose, one must lunge on your right leg, leaving your left foot at 90 degrees to your right, then lean over on the bent leg, pass your right arm under your knee, around your thigh, and bring your right arm/hand around to meet it. Desperately grasp fingers and.... voila! You are a contortionist. This is the first time I've been able to do this pre- or post-surgery, so it was quite an achievement. I attribute it mostly to upper-body flexibility, however, since it's openness through your chest/shoulders that really helps you make it happen.
DOWNER
The external hard drive did not miraculously repair itself as a result of it's little weekend vacation. After starting enough yesterday in order for me to access some Jamaica pics, it promptly froze again. Further research online revealed a chronic problem with this brand and, unfortunately, the workaround/fix is going to be mind-numbingly time consuming. I need to get all my files off of there (all 21GB of them), onto another storage device, and then I need to reformat the drive, remove the access application that came with it on all the computers that access it, and then put everything back on again. Given that the darn thing seems to freeze during uploads and downloads, I can tell that this project may take until December and has the potential to ruin just about every evening and weekend between now and then. I tried to move some files last night to an online storage site I was testing but, after 7 hours, it only managed to copy 1/245th of all the files. Yup. This is going to be painful.
If anyone has any recommendations about how to do this more efficiently, please let me know.
UPPER
During my Bryan Kest Power Yoga workout this morning, I finally achieved the 'contortionist pose' (my name, not theirs) on my right side (the side with my bum hip.) In order to contortion oneself into the contortionist pose, one must lunge on your right leg, leaving your left foot at 90 degrees to your right, then lean over on the bent leg, pass your right arm under your knee, around your thigh, and bring your right arm/hand around to meet it. Desperately grasp fingers and.... voila! You are a contortionist. This is the first time I've been able to do this pre- or post-surgery, so it was quite an achievement. I attribute it mostly to upper-body flexibility, however, since it's openness through your chest/shoulders that really helps you make it happen.
DOWNER
The external hard drive did not miraculously repair itself as a result of it's little weekend vacation. After starting enough yesterday in order for me to access some Jamaica pics, it promptly froze again. Further research online revealed a chronic problem with this brand and, unfortunately, the workaround/fix is going to be mind-numbingly time consuming. I need to get all my files off of there (all 21GB of them), onto another storage device, and then I need to reformat the drive, remove the access application that came with it on all the computers that access it, and then put everything back on again. Given that the darn thing seems to freeze during uploads and downloads, I can tell that this project may take until December and has the potential to ruin just about every evening and weekend between now and then. I tried to move some files last night to an online storage site I was testing but, after 7 hours, it only managed to copy 1/245th of all the files. Yup. This is going to be painful.
If anyone has any recommendations about how to do this more efficiently, please let me know.
Monday, June 23, 2008
That Irie feeling is back -- somewhat
Finally, I have all my Jamaica photos uploaded to Flickr.For those of you who got a direct email from me several days ago, you'll know that I had some problems with my external hard drive on which I store all my photos (4+ years worth). At some point in the downloading/uploading process last week, the thing just died on me. After several frustrating hours of phone-calls and restarts, I gave up on the thing and resigned myself to $500+ of data-recovery charges to get back all those photos, including some of the ones from this recent trip that hadn't made it up to Flickr yet.
Well, today I got a hair up my ass and decided to plug the thing back in again. Yippppeeee, is all I can say. It just started up as normal. Just like that. Weird, yet wonderful. So, I was able to upload the 20 or so additional photos that didn't originally make their way to the net.
Below, for your viewing pleasure, are those photos in all their glory. Because there are so many of them, they are in no particular order but that seems to work for this trip. Every third photo is a sunset or beach pic and that really sums up our vacation - lounging around on floaties, marveling at the clear, warm, Caribbean. Of course there was some adventuring for good measure - ATV'ing and Kayaking - but for the most part this is what we went there to do, and this is what we darn well did.
Click here for Jamaica photos
So, about as irie as one can get, given that we're no longer on that beach and it's 105 degrees here in Sacraghetto.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
It's Sunday
... and time to share a story I read in the Sacramento Bee this morning that really touched me: Foster son - and maybe President one day.
I can't even imagine what kind of courage it took for this 14 year old boy to run out of his family home in the middle of the night, or what depth of horrors he had been subjected to in order to make that seem like the most viable option. And then there is the Vice Principal of the school who took enough time to care...
With all the bad/sad/frustrating stories in this world, it's good for your heart to read the odd one like this once in a while. It also pulls you up a bit and makes you wonder: what difference could we make in this world if we all took the time to care about a stranger? I've already made a small stride in this direction recently, and I'll share more in a future post.
Enjoy your Sunday and, if you're in Sac, stay cool! It's baking out there!
I can't even imagine what kind of courage it took for this 14 year old boy to run out of his family home in the middle of the night, or what depth of horrors he had been subjected to in order to make that seem like the most viable option. And then there is the Vice Principal of the school who took enough time to care...
With all the bad/sad/frustrating stories in this world, it's good for your heart to read the odd one like this once in a while. It also pulls you up a bit and makes you wonder: what difference could we make in this world if we all took the time to care about a stranger? I've already made a small stride in this direction recently, and I'll share more in a future post.
Enjoy your Sunday and, if you're in Sac, stay cool! It's baking out there!
Thursday, June 19, 2008
MORE surgery?!
Yesterday was my 3rd follow-up appointment with my surgeon following my hip surgery in March. For those of you that haven't been counting, I'm about 3 months and 1 week out from my surgery.
The reason I'm continuing to go back is because:
1) I continue to have pain/stiffness/small ROM in the same areas I had before the surgery and it's still not to the point where it's better than before the surgery.
and
2) I have, what we considered to be, a pissed-off nerve on the lower lateral side of my thigh resulting in constant (always there) soreness and light-touch numbness.
Number one, both PT and surgeon continue to conclude is caused by scar tissue. Fair enough; I do see some improvement with continued strength training, stretching, and manual therapy. I'll just keep all that up.
Number two, however, is something that the surgeon has kept telling me "will get better over time". You know, the ole "it should take another 6-8 weeks" diagnosis. (In medicine everything seems to "take" 6-8 weeks, so I've remained skeptical.)
Yesterday finally, the surgeon actually stopped poo-pooing my complaints about the nerve soreness/numbness and started seriously looking at what's going on. Aparently I had been through enough 6-8 week time-frames to warrant further investigation and concern. So, he poked and he prodded and I winced and grimaced. He pressed on my upper thigh/hip area where they did the surgery and asked if that affected the soreness in my lower thigh and I said "no". He pushed around that same area asking me, "So, it doesn't hurt up here at all?" and frowning when I told him no. As I had been trying to point out for 3 visits, it hurts all the way down there, about 1/2 way down my thigh on the lateral/posterior portion. Nowehere near the site of the surgery itself.
So he sat back and sighed. "Well, that's unusual. I thought it would be referred pain from where we poked around in your hip from the surgery but it's not in an area that would have been affected by that. So, it's weird. You shouldn't have pain all the way down there. Unless it's something that was caused by the traction. I thought it might be scar tissue caused by blood pooling in your thigh but then it would be hard or lumpy and it's not."
To cut to the chase, he doesn't know what or why it is. His suggestion is to......wait for it...... wait another 6-8 weeks and, if it's still sore, give me a cortisone shot (meeps!). This in and of itself my solve the problem by calming "it" down (of course, we don't actually know what "it" is; we're surmising it's a nerve but have no medical proof.) However, it may only temporarily get rid of the soreness. If it comes back after the cortisone shot, he recommends another surgery via a 3" incision (ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?) to go in there and see what's going on with the nerves. If the cortisone shot doesn't help at all then he guesses I'm just stuck with it.
There is no way in hell, heaven, or any purgatory inbetween that I am allowing that man to open me up again. Scar tissue, damaged nerves - these are the things I'm left dealing with 3 months later and all of them are a result of the surgery itself; new problems the procedure created that are actually more painful and limiting than the original injury I went under the knife to resolve. Who knows what "new" things we can create by allowing him to go in there and poke around in a new area, just (it seems) on a whim.
So, I'm resolved to being more diligent about my PT's recommendations of heat/cold therapy and more (painful) massage of the offending area. It's not that I haven't been doing these things but I haven't been doing them consistently, 2x per day, and especially not while I was away on vacation. If, after continued efforts, I still have soreness down there, I'm going to go back to my PCP and ask for a referral to a neurologist. I have to believe that there are non-invasive treatments and tests we can do to determine what's going on with my thigh and I'd certainly like to explore those before being sliced open again (if at all).
The reason I'm continuing to go back is because:
1) I continue to have pain/stiffness/small ROM in the same areas I had before the surgery and it's still not to the point where it's better than before the surgery.
and
2) I have, what we considered to be, a pissed-off nerve on the lower lateral side of my thigh resulting in constant (always there) soreness and light-touch numbness.
Number one, both PT and surgeon continue to conclude is caused by scar tissue. Fair enough; I do see some improvement with continued strength training, stretching, and manual therapy. I'll just keep all that up.
Number two, however, is something that the surgeon has kept telling me "will get better over time". You know, the ole "it should take another 6-8 weeks" diagnosis. (In medicine everything seems to "take" 6-8 weeks, so I've remained skeptical.)
Yesterday finally, the surgeon actually stopped poo-pooing my complaints about the nerve soreness/numbness and started seriously looking at what's going on. Aparently I had been through enough 6-8 week time-frames to warrant further investigation and concern. So, he poked and he prodded and I winced and grimaced. He pressed on my upper thigh/hip area where they did the surgery and asked if that affected the soreness in my lower thigh and I said "no". He pushed around that same area asking me, "So, it doesn't hurt up here at all?" and frowning when I told him no. As I had been trying to point out for 3 visits, it hurts all the way down there, about 1/2 way down my thigh on the lateral/posterior portion. Nowehere near the site of the surgery itself.
So he sat back and sighed. "Well, that's unusual. I thought it would be referred pain from where we poked around in your hip from the surgery but it's not in an area that would have been affected by that. So, it's weird. You shouldn't have pain all the way down there. Unless it's something that was caused by the traction. I thought it might be scar tissue caused by blood pooling in your thigh but then it would be hard or lumpy and it's not."
To cut to the chase, he doesn't know what or why it is. His suggestion is to......wait for it...... wait another 6-8 weeks and, if it's still sore, give me a cortisone shot (meeps!). This in and of itself my solve the problem by calming "it" down (of course, we don't actually know what "it" is; we're surmising it's a nerve but have no medical proof.) However, it may only temporarily get rid of the soreness. If it comes back after the cortisone shot, he recommends another surgery via a 3" incision (ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?) to go in there and see what's going on with the nerves. If the cortisone shot doesn't help at all then he guesses I'm just stuck with it.
There is no way in hell, heaven, or any purgatory inbetween that I am allowing that man to open me up again. Scar tissue, damaged nerves - these are the things I'm left dealing with 3 months later and all of them are a result of the surgery itself; new problems the procedure created that are actually more painful and limiting than the original injury I went under the knife to resolve. Who knows what "new" things we can create by allowing him to go in there and poke around in a new area, just (it seems) on a whim.
So, I'm resolved to being more diligent about my PT's recommendations of heat/cold therapy and more (painful) massage of the offending area. It's not that I haven't been doing these things but I haven't been doing them consistently, 2x per day, and especially not while I was away on vacation. If, after continued efforts, I still have soreness down there, I'm going to go back to my PCP and ask for a referral to a neurologist. I have to believe that there are non-invasive treatments and tests we can do to determine what's going on with my thigh and I'd certainly like to explore those before being sliced open again (if at all).
Monday, June 16, 2008
Sometimes you just need to listen to the one-armed rasta man
... and he was right. Every little thing IS gonna be alright: Frankie's lump is nothing more than a fatty deposit in a weird spot. A function of being 9 years old.
On a side note: how I wish I was back on the beach chair recording this ditty right now.
More photos and videos to come later this week.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Nirie...
Ok, it's not a word - I made it up. It means "not irie". (See previous post titled "Irie").
We're finally back home, it's about 4:30pm and we've come down from our vacation high with a thud.
First, Maggie destructo-jaws has eaten away a good 3" area of the carpet in the family room.
Second, and more disturbingly, my elder dog, Frankie, appears to have developed a large growth around the left-hand side of his rib cage. When I say large, I mean large enough to see the protrusion when you look at him - probably 2.5" long and 1" high. It's not surface level, so it's different from the allergic, skin cysts that he has had elsewhere in the past. It seems firm, although not solid, and attached on the inside, not to the skin. He definitely didn't have it before we left because we'd just got him groomed before we took off on vacation.
So, something new to worry about until we can rush him into the vet tomorrow morning...
We're finally back home, it's about 4:30pm and we've come down from our vacation high with a thud.
First, Maggie destructo-jaws has eaten away a good 3" area of the carpet in the family room.
Second, and more disturbingly, my elder dog, Frankie, appears to have developed a large growth around the left-hand side of his rib cage. When I say large, I mean large enough to see the protrusion when you look at him - probably 2.5" long and 1" high. It's not surface level, so it's different from the allergic, skin cysts that he has had elsewhere in the past. It seems firm, although not solid, and attached on the inside, not to the skin. He definitely didn't have it before we left because we'd just got him groomed before we took off on vacation.
So, something new to worry about until we can rush him into the vet tomorrow morning...
Delayed AGAIN.
By the time this week is over, we will have taken a total of 6 flights, 50% of which will have been delayed by 60 minutes or more.
Yes, we are delayed AGAIN.
We're sitting at John Wayne Airport, Orange County, right now and frequenting the Oasis bar/restaurant because we're bored and need to waste time. No doubt the concessions and restaurants in airports are just GIDDY at the increased frequency of delays these days - they MAKE OUT. Instead of a soda from McDonalds, we've purchased two glasses of wine, a coke, and some Parmesan potato chips (aka: heart-attack on a plate.) Our total in-airport expenditure has risen from $1.50 to $15 as a result of our 60 minute delay.
Hubby wants to rage against the machine and give the airlines (all of 'em) "what for" but, while I agree that it's just bullshit (sorry Mum, there's no other word for it), I also know that they have all the leverage and we, as mere paying travelers, have little-to-none. The only thing that can be achieved by complaining is the loss of any remaining "vacation spirit" and a higher heart rate. They've got my money and my time; I think I'm done giving up anything else of value.
Even so, I reiterate my distaste for the direction that airline travel is heading and I know I'm not the only one based upon response to my previous post. But it gets worse. Right after my last post from Charlotte, I read a USA Today article that told me that US Airlines has announced even more fees - fees for the first bag as well as the second, fees for a soda or cup of coffee, and also (which ticks me off no end) fees to redeem your frequent flyer miles. Are you kidding me? You want to charge me to redeem the miles I loyally gained from traveling with your airline consistently, and then, when I get on the plane, you want to charge me $1.50 for a cup of luke-warm, gnat-piss coffee?
But what do you do? If you need to travel you need an airline and short of becoming a multi-millionaire with my own private jet overnight, I'm not sure what else there is to do but "suck it up."
Until Sacraghetto...
Yes, we are delayed AGAIN.
We're sitting at John Wayne Airport, Orange County, right now and frequenting the Oasis bar/restaurant because we're bored and need to waste time. No doubt the concessions and restaurants in airports are just GIDDY at the increased frequency of delays these days - they MAKE OUT. Instead of a soda from McDonalds, we've purchased two glasses of wine, a coke, and some Parmesan potato chips (aka: heart-attack on a plate.) Our total in-airport expenditure has risen from $1.50 to $15 as a result of our 60 minute delay.
Hubby wants to rage against the machine and give the airlines (all of 'em) "what for" but, while I agree that it's just bullshit (sorry Mum, there's no other word for it), I also know that they have all the leverage and we, as mere paying travelers, have little-to-none. The only thing that can be achieved by complaining is the loss of any remaining "vacation spirit" and a higher heart rate. They've got my money and my time; I think I'm done giving up anything else of value.
Even so, I reiterate my distaste for the direction that airline travel is heading and I know I'm not the only one based upon response to my previous post. But it gets worse. Right after my last post from Charlotte, I read a USA Today article that told me that US Airlines has announced even more fees - fees for the first bag as well as the second, fees for a soda or cup of coffee, and also (which ticks me off no end) fees to redeem your frequent flyer miles. Are you kidding me? You want to charge me to redeem the miles I loyally gained from traveling with your airline consistently, and then, when I get on the plane, you want to charge me $1.50 for a cup of luke-warm, gnat-piss coffee?
But what do you do? If you need to travel you need an airline and short of becoming a multi-millionaire with my own private jet overnight, I'm not sure what else there is to do but "suck it up."
Until Sacraghetto...
Friday, June 13, 2008
Back in airline hell
So, we left behind the aqua-marine of the Caribbean sea and launched ourselves back into hell, aka: the American airline system. No sooner had the carefree lyrics of the Marley classic, "Don't Worry About a Thing", started to fade than they were replaced by the word "delay".
Air travel sucks butt.
It all started out so well in Montego Bay. Our flight was on time, it even took off a few minutes early. We were stylin'. All much to our relief, given we only had 90 minutes to get into Charlotte, deplane, get through immigration, pick up our bags, pass through customs, re-check our bags, go back through security (laptop out, shoes off, belt off, little baggie on display, repear in reverse), and hot-foot it across two terminals to our new gate - all of which we did without a hitch. We arrived at our gate approximately 20 minutes before boarding, downing a Burger King value meal on-the-run, and sat down with a sigh of relief. The departure boards in the terminal and at the gate said the flight was going out on time and we would be in Orange County in time to hit one of our favorite restaurants for a late dinner. Woo hoo!
Which was right about when Hubby noticed that there was no plane at the end of the moveable gateway thingumy. Strange, we thought, but we continued to devour our large-size fries and Whopper. And then the words every traveler dreads... "Ladies and Gentlemen, if you're traveling on flight 123 to xyz..."
Yup, that's right, all of a sudden, right there and then, despite every US Airways person and board informing us otherwise not moments before, the flight was going to be delayed 90 minutes. Aparently, despite the incoming flight having left two hours late and having been in the air for 2.5 hours already, they only just realized that it wouldn't be here in time to get us off the ground at our scheduled departure time. Amazing. It's like getting up an hour and a half late for work, sitting in two hours of traffic, and then calling in to your boss five minutes before you're about to arrive to inform them you're going to be late. No shit Sherlock.
Now we're not going to get into LAX until 10pm, which means that, by the time we've negotiated baggage-claim, the car rental shuttle, the car rental counter, and the drive, we probably won't hit our hotel in OC until near midnight. Extended vacation? Not.
The worst part is that I know our situation is not the most dire of all the travelers here at this airport right now. Both the US Airways Special Services counters we passed had lines 50 weary people deep and the departure board read as a sorry list of delays and cancellations. Some people have probably missed the only connecting flight to their destination today, or it has been cancelled, so my grumblings seem like a petty inconvenience in comparison.
The fact of the matter is that airline travel in the U.S. is not just no fun any more, it's literally a nightmare. Rising prices, shrinking legroom, scaled-back services (on a 2.5 hour flight you don't even get a pack of peanuts any more), new costs ($25 for your second suitcase, $7 for a stale sandwich, $15 for a decent seat), rolled-back schedules, and frustrating delays are only adding to the bottle-necks the airlines created with the "hub" system. It's now literally more hassle to fly across America in most cases, than it is to fly across the Atlantic. At least with the latter: (a) the hassle is proportionate to the distance (b) the travel time is mostly in the air going somewhere, and (c) there is still some pretense at maintaining services on a transatlantic flight. In the time it takes to get from Sacramento to the east coast, I could have flown all the way to England, probably with time to spare.
Which all really sucks because I never used to feel this way about the journey - I used to enjoy getting on the plane and viewed arriving at the airport as the 'beginning' of my vacation. Not so any more. Maintaining a positive attitude througout the travel experience now requires a laser focus on the pay-off.... which on the way home is much harder to do.
Air travel sucks butt.
It all started out so well in Montego Bay. Our flight was on time, it even took off a few minutes early. We were stylin'. All much to our relief, given we only had 90 minutes to get into Charlotte, deplane, get through immigration, pick up our bags, pass through customs, re-check our bags, go back through security (laptop out, shoes off, belt off, little baggie on display, repear in reverse), and hot-foot it across two terminals to our new gate - all of which we did without a hitch. We arrived at our gate approximately 20 minutes before boarding, downing a Burger King value meal on-the-run, and sat down with a sigh of relief. The departure boards in the terminal and at the gate said the flight was going out on time and we would be in Orange County in time to hit one of our favorite restaurants for a late dinner. Woo hoo!
Which was right about when Hubby noticed that there was no plane at the end of the moveable gateway thingumy. Strange, we thought, but we continued to devour our large-size fries and Whopper. And then the words every traveler dreads... "Ladies and Gentlemen, if you're traveling on flight 123 to xyz..."
Yup, that's right, all of a sudden, right there and then, despite every US Airways person and board informing us otherwise not moments before, the flight was going to be delayed 90 minutes. Aparently, despite the incoming flight having left two hours late and having been in the air for 2.5 hours already, they only just realized that it wouldn't be here in time to get us off the ground at our scheduled departure time. Amazing. It's like getting up an hour and a half late for work, sitting in two hours of traffic, and then calling in to your boss five minutes before you're about to arrive to inform them you're going to be late. No shit Sherlock.
Now we're not going to get into LAX until 10pm, which means that, by the time we've negotiated baggage-claim, the car rental shuttle, the car rental counter, and the drive, we probably won't hit our hotel in OC until near midnight. Extended vacation? Not.
The worst part is that I know our situation is not the most dire of all the travelers here at this airport right now. Both the US Airways Special Services counters we passed had lines 50 weary people deep and the departure board read as a sorry list of delays and cancellations. Some people have probably missed the only connecting flight to their destination today, or it has been cancelled, so my grumblings seem like a petty inconvenience in comparison.
The fact of the matter is that airline travel in the U.S. is not just no fun any more, it's literally a nightmare. Rising prices, shrinking legroom, scaled-back services (on a 2.5 hour flight you don't even get a pack of peanuts any more), new costs ($25 for your second suitcase, $7 for a stale sandwich, $15 for a decent seat), rolled-back schedules, and frustrating delays are only adding to the bottle-necks the airlines created with the "hub" system. It's now literally more hassle to fly across America in most cases, than it is to fly across the Atlantic. At least with the latter: (a) the hassle is proportionate to the distance (b) the travel time is mostly in the air going somewhere, and (c) there is still some pretense at maintaining services on a transatlantic flight. In the time it takes to get from Sacramento to the east coast, I could have flown all the way to England, probably with time to spare.
Which all really sucks because I never used to feel this way about the journey - I used to enjoy getting on the plane and viewed arriving at the airport as the 'beginning' of my vacation. Not so any more. Maintaining a positive attitude througout the travel experience now requires a laser focus on the pay-off.... which on the way home is much harder to do.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Irie!
Irie is Jamaican patois for "doin' alright" and today that just about sums it up. We didn't do much but we were Irie aalll the live long day.
Having skipped our snorkeling trip, we read the skies and headed for the beach. It was a scorching hot day, the only one so far without an afternoon storm, and we sure made the most of it. We floated, we sun-bathed, we ate, we drank, we floated, we sunbathed, we drank, we floated, we drank, we... um... well you get the picture. At about 2pm the picture looked decidely pink - the color of our noses and shoulders - so we put on some street clothes (something not damp, hallelujah brother!) and head out to the craft market about a minute's walk outside the resort. I say "craft market" but basically it's a series of concrete huts rented out by desperate natives all hawking their version of the same tourist crap: Come to my store lady; Sweet lady I'll give you a good deal; Stay here sir, I'll give you the best deal. If I sound bitter and twisted it's not true - I'm just telling you like it is. I like trawling for the best deal on the cheesiest tourist crap,
The most amusing part of the trip was Hubby's inability to ignore a manufactured sob-story. As the only tourists in the whole place, he bought something at almost every store we visited, affected by the "woe is me" stories of the store owners. Meanwhile, I made the rounds, said my thank yous and went back and bought only the things I most liked. To the outsider it would have provided a great superfluous summary of our personalities and relationship. Hubby was also magnate to the eager drug dealers and was presented with the largest bounty of coke and "e"he'd ever seen. No, we didn't buy any. Not our style.
Late this afternoon we cleaned our sunburned bodies up, washing away the layers of suntan lotion, salty water and bug spray, and head out to Rick's Cafe, a Negril landmark since the 70s. A visit to Rick's for the Negril sunset is almost a must for any visitor. They have great fruity drinks, a cliff-top vantage point on the west-facing ocean, and live reggae music - the perfect trilogy.
It's about 9:15pm right now and we're ready to hit the main entertainment area for the staff and visitor talent contest, the staple of the "joiner"resort. Needless to say neither of us are competing; we plan to make fun of others instead.
This evening we got a sad delivery - our check-out itinerary for Friday morning. It's already that time. God, it's gone so fast.
Until tomorrow... our last day...
Having skipped our snorkeling trip, we read the skies and headed for the beach. It was a scorching hot day, the only one so far without an afternoon storm, and we sure made the most of it. We floated, we sun-bathed, we ate, we drank, we floated, we sunbathed, we drank, we floated, we drank, we... um... well you get the picture. At about 2pm the picture looked decidely pink - the color of our noses and shoulders - so we put on some street clothes (something not damp, hallelujah brother!) and head out to the craft market about a minute's walk outside the resort. I say "craft market" but basically it's a series of concrete huts rented out by desperate natives all hawking their version of the same tourist crap: Come to my store lady; Sweet lady I'll give you a good deal; Stay here sir, I'll give you the best deal. If I sound bitter and twisted it's not true - I'm just telling you like it is. I like trawling for the best deal on the cheesiest tourist crap,
The most amusing part of the trip was Hubby's inability to ignore a manufactured sob-story. As the only tourists in the whole place, he bought something at almost every store we visited, affected by the "woe is me" stories of the store owners. Meanwhile, I made the rounds, said my thank yous and went back and bought only the things I most liked. To the outsider it would have provided a great superfluous summary of our personalities and relationship. Hubby was also magnate to the eager drug dealers and was presented with the largest bounty of coke and "e"he'd ever seen. No, we didn't buy any. Not our style.
Late this afternoon we cleaned our sunburned bodies up, washing away the layers of suntan lotion, salty water and bug spray, and head out to Rick's Cafe, a Negril landmark since the 70s. A visit to Rick's for the Negril sunset is almost a must for any visitor. They have great fruity drinks, a cliff-top vantage point on the west-facing ocean, and live reggae music - the perfect trilogy.
It's about 9:15pm right now and we're ready to hit the main entertainment area for the staff and visitor talent contest, the staple of the "joiner"resort. Needless to say neither of us are competing; we plan to make fun of others instead.
This evening we got a sad delivery - our check-out itinerary for Friday morning. It's already that time. God, it's gone so fast.
Until tomorrow... our last day...
Oops, we did it again!
On our honeymoon in Belize last year our one night of drunken abandon was followed by a painful 4 hour road trip to Mayan ruins on the Guatemalan border. In Puerto Vallarta last December, the night before we went on a twisty-turny, 2 hour ride up the mountain to a sleepy Mexican village, we partied like it was 1999. Yesterday we had our ATV ride excursion, up into the Jamaican mountains above Lucea and guess what we did the night before? That's right... drank and danced our booties off. We seem doomed to force ourselves to endure excursions through the fog of a killer hangover.
So, yes, following my post on Monday night after the repeat-guest dinner, we joined the entertainment staff on the dancefloor until gone midnight. Of course, we were so busy getting our groove thangs on, that we didn't pay much attention to our alcohol intake. Dance, sip, dance, sip... it was a deadly combination. We had a great time but 9:30am the next morning rolled around waaaay too quickly.
We survived, however, and had a great trip up 2,200 ft above seal level to the rural town of Cascades, population 1,500, and an old slave town. Over boulders, through muddy puddles, and eventually past playgrounds of waving children in their school uniforms we zoomed, hangover or no hangover. We have photos and I have to say, if I didn't tell you I was more sluggish than a slug and had a mouth dryer than the Sahara, there is no way you would tell from the pics. Honestly, we both had a good time despite not feeling 100% and at least it was only a 45 minute ride out to the tour site, and a 2.5 hour excursion. We were back in our room by 2.30pm.
To add insult to injury, our expensive sneakers got TRASHED. The tour person at the hotel said to wear sneakers. What she didn't say was "wear sneakers you don't mind getting ruined." Of course, it just so happens that Hubby had purchased a new pair of bright-white, fancy sneakers from Fleet Feet Sports before we left for $140 - his first pair of good, new sneakers for some time. It took less than 5 minutes on those ATVs for them to be barely visible beneath a layer of mud. :o( Fortunately, I have a newer pair waiting for me at home so my grief was short-lived, but I can't even begin to tell you how horrible I felt for Hubby.
Yes, I admit, it was moi who wanted to stay on the dancefloor way past our bedtime the night before. And yes, it was moi who was giddy about the idea of ATV'ing it up the Jamaican mountains. So, yes, it was me that was to blame for Hubby's hangover and ruined fancy sneakers. I was so busy feeling bad for putting him through it all that I almost forgot I was hung over myself. I guess every cloud has a silver lining.
I'll be buying him new sneakers when we return.
p.s. We're having a GREAT time. It has stormed every day around noon but the sun comes out again around 4pm, when we grab our floaties and loll around in the still Caribbean water for a few hours before dinner. Today, through a mix-up, we missed our snorkeling trip but it's sunny and so we're heading out to catch some more vitamin D. Turrah!
So, yes, following my post on Monday night after the repeat-guest dinner, we joined the entertainment staff on the dancefloor until gone midnight. Of course, we were so busy getting our groove thangs on, that we didn't pay much attention to our alcohol intake. Dance, sip, dance, sip... it was a deadly combination. We had a great time but 9:30am the next morning rolled around waaaay too quickly.
We survived, however, and had a great trip up 2,200 ft above seal level to the rural town of Cascades, population 1,500, and an old slave town. Over boulders, through muddy puddles, and eventually past playgrounds of waving children in their school uniforms we zoomed, hangover or no hangover. We have photos and I have to say, if I didn't tell you I was more sluggish than a slug and had a mouth dryer than the Sahara, there is no way you would tell from the pics. Honestly, we both had a good time despite not feeling 100% and at least it was only a 45 minute ride out to the tour site, and a 2.5 hour excursion. We were back in our room by 2.30pm.
To add insult to injury, our expensive sneakers got TRASHED. The tour person at the hotel said to wear sneakers. What she didn't say was "wear sneakers you don't mind getting ruined." Of course, it just so happens that Hubby had purchased a new pair of bright-white, fancy sneakers from Fleet Feet Sports before we left for $140 - his first pair of good, new sneakers for some time. It took less than 5 minutes on those ATVs for them to be barely visible beneath a layer of mud. :o( Fortunately, I have a newer pair waiting for me at home so my grief was short-lived, but I can't even begin to tell you how horrible I felt for Hubby.
Yes, I admit, it was moi who wanted to stay on the dancefloor way past our bedtime the night before. And yes, it was moi who was giddy about the idea of ATV'ing it up the Jamaican mountains. So, yes, it was me that was to blame for Hubby's hangover and ruined fancy sneakers. I was so busy feeling bad for putting him through it all that I almost forgot I was hung over myself. I guess every cloud has a silver lining.
I'll be buying him new sneakers when we return.
p.s. We're having a GREAT time. It has stormed every day around noon but the sun comes out again around 4pm, when we grab our floaties and loll around in the still Caribbean water for a few hours before dinner. Today, through a mix-up, we missed our snorkeling trip but it's sunny and so we're heading out to catch some more vitamin D. Turrah!
Monday, June 09, 2008
Yeah Mon!
The best time to be on the beach in Negril this time of year is 5pm. The tropical thuderstorms have passed over and the sun has resurrected itself for an awesome sunset. The sand is wet, the breeze has died down, and most of the tourists have given up on the weather with a nap in their room. The aqua Caribbean water winks at you in the sun, pleading with you to wade on in, and the reggae music in the background reinforces the vacation karma. A one-armed rasta serenades you: "Don't worry about a thing, coz every little thing's gonna be alright," he crooons for his $5 tip, as you stare out onto paradise. It's almost impossible not to fall in love with this country and it's people.
Tonight, as repeat guests, we were given a special meal at the resort's most exclusive restaurant and had the opportunity to mingle with other fans of Jamaica as well as the Couples staff. I was lucky enough to be seated next to Allison, the entertainment manager, who I chatted with about children (which b0th of us have a reverance for), Sex and the City (which she'd seen and was disappointed in), and the dfference between Eurpoean and American tourists. Europeans, she said, were much more likely to rent a car and want to mingle with the locals, exploring on their own the 'real' Jamaica, whereas Americans were more likely to stay in resort and only go on the planned excursions. This made sense to me since my immediate instinct upon visiting a place is to talk to the locals and find out where they like to go for entertainment. Sure, I like the luxury resort to lay down my head, but during the day I enjoy seeing the world through the eyes of another human being, someone who experiences this life day-in, day-out.
Tonight, as repeat guests, we were given a special meal at the resort's most exclusive restaurant and had the opportunity to mingle with other fans of Jamaica as well as the Couples staff. I was lucky enough to be seated next to Allison, the entertainment manager, who I chatted with about children (which b0th of us have a reverance for), Sex and the City (which she'd seen and was disappointed in), and the dfference between Eurpoean and American tourists. Europeans, she said, were much more likely to rent a car and want to mingle with the locals, exploring on their own the 'real' Jamaica, whereas Americans were more likely to stay in resort and only go on the planned excursions. This made sense to me since my immediate instinct upon visiting a place is to talk to the locals and find out where they like to go for entertainment. Sure, I like the luxury resort to lay down my head, but during the day I enjoy seeing the world through the eyes of another human being, someone who experiences this life day-in, day-out.
Thunderbolts and lightening! Very, very frightening!
We were welcomed back to Jamaica with thunderous applause... I mean, er, thunder. That's right, our first 2 hours in Jamaica were spent watching torrential rain pour off the roof of the beach bar. But, the good news is:
1) We're here! YEAH MON!
2) And so is our baggage! IRIE!
Much to our relief, we hadn't idealized Jamaica or Negril in our memories. Coming to Jamaica is like being greeted by an old friend. The people are just so darn happy, laid-back and friendly, and not in that sleazy "I'll be nice to you for a while and then ask you for ten dollar" way. We rolled our suitcases out of Montego Bay customs and into the "Couples Lounge"(the meeting area for our resort) and before we were even 25 feet away, were greeted with the genuine smiles of the Couples transportation staff. Many knuckles were bumped in greeting, much "no problem"Ãng was exchanged, and then we headed to the bar for a glass of the national brew "Red Stripe". Within 2 hours we were checked-into our hotel and sipping Pina Coladas in the rain.
All I have to say to that is, "NO PROBLEM, MON!"
1) We're here! YEAH MON!
2) And so is our baggage! IRIE!
Much to our relief, we hadn't idealized Jamaica or Negril in our memories. Coming to Jamaica is like being greeted by an old friend. The people are just so darn happy, laid-back and friendly, and not in that sleazy "I'll be nice to you for a while and then ask you for ten dollar" way. We rolled our suitcases out of Montego Bay customs and into the "Couples Lounge"(the meeting area for our resort) and before we were even 25 feet away, were greeted with the genuine smiles of the Couples transportation staff. Many knuckles were bumped in greeting, much "no problem"Ãng was exchanged, and then we headed to the bar for a glass of the national brew "Red Stripe". Within 2 hours we were checked-into our hotel and sipping Pina Coladas in the rain.
All I have to say to that is, "NO PROBLEM, MON!"
Sunday, June 08, 2008
Back on track
Now in Charlotte, waiting to board our flight to Montego Bay.
Despite leaving almost 90 minutes later than schedule from LAX (an eye-crossing 12 midnight departure) we arrived into Charlotte only 30 minutes late... ironically early enough to have made our original flight at 7:50am. Undeterred, we immediately found a US Airways supervisor, told them our plight, and managed to get the Special Services desk to get us on the 9:35am flight. We're still not entirely sure if our bags will make it - that's a big "fingers crossed" - but we physically watched the guy transmit the message to the baggage handlers to re-route our bags - the rest is in the hands of a higher power (or more specifically Carlos in baggage supervision).
Charlotte airport is nice -new, bright, airy and modern - but there is an abnormally large concentration of Starbucks - literally 2-3 in every terminal and at least one inbetween. We had to walk from terminal B to D and must have seen 6 along the way. Even for the average U.S. airport, that's overkill. You literally could have bought an espresso shot at one and downed it in time to get another at the next location. You'd be zizzing from head-to-toe with a killer caffeine high, but it's definitely doable. Nuts.
Anyway, our plane isn't far off boarding (yay, no 4 hour layover) so I'm going to sign-off. Gotta love this free airport wi-fi...
Despite leaving almost 90 minutes later than schedule from LAX (an eye-crossing 12 midnight departure) we arrived into Charlotte only 30 minutes late... ironically early enough to have made our original flight at 7:50am. Undeterred, we immediately found a US Airways supervisor, told them our plight, and managed to get the Special Services desk to get us on the 9:35am flight. We're still not entirely sure if our bags will make it - that's a big "fingers crossed" - but we physically watched the guy transmit the message to the baggage handlers to re-route our bags - the rest is in the hands of a higher power (or more specifically Carlos in baggage supervision).
Charlotte airport is nice -new, bright, airy and modern - but there is an abnormally large concentration of Starbucks - literally 2-3 in every terminal and at least one inbetween. We had to walk from terminal B to D and must have seen 6 along the way. Even for the average U.S. airport, that's overkill. You literally could have bought an espresso shot at one and downed it in time to get another at the next location. You'd be zizzing from head-to-toe with a killer caffeine high, but it's definitely doable. Nuts.
Anyway, our plane isn't far off boarding (yay, no 4 hour layover) so I'm going to sign-off. Gotta love this free airport wi-fi...
Saturday, June 07, 2008
It's not the travel, it's the transportation
Well, we're sort of on vacation... if the travel part counts. But lemme tell ya, it's not much fun yet.
It's 10:15pm on Saturday night and we're sitting at Gate 8 in Terminal One of LAX. We had a 5 hour lay-over in LAX which got extended to a 6.5 hour layover. Only 90 extra minutes but it does mean that we will miss our original connecting flight from Charlotte to Montego Bay. At check-in, the attendant put us on what he said was the next available flight from Charlotte, 3.5 hours later, which sucks because now instead of arriving in to Jamaica at 8:30 in the morning, we won't be getting in until 1:30pm - right about when we would be hoping to be sitting on the beach, Pina Colada in-hand.
However, now we find out that there was actually an earlier connecting flight (2 hours earlier) from Charlotte and that the check-in guy just bungled it. So, Hubby is busy trying to "work" the woman at the front counter. She says she can't put us back on the earlier connecting flight because our luggage is already checked and would still arrive on the later flight. Trying to go down and change the tag wa sa possibility but the check-in chick seemed to think the likelihood of that going well was low. Hubby is therefore determined to use our misfortune for a free upgrade. I'll give him points for trying but I have only ever been upgraded for complaining once in 15 years of flying (at London Heathrow after some check-in chick got shirty with me and put me on a passenger 'watch list' - I don't think she got laid the night before or something.) So, sexed-up check-in agents aside, it's not looking good.
We spent the last 4 hours wasting time by renting a car for $20 from Thrifty and driving to Manhattan Beach for a glimpse at the sparkling Pacific Ocean we miss so much, then some dinner on the Manhattan Beach Blvd. strip. All-in-all it was much better than twiddling our fingers in the US Airways lounge for the $80 day pass.
News update... Hubby got us upgraded to First Class. Still not extra time but at least for a red-eye it will be a nicer, more comfy seat. I eat my hat on the "no point in complaining 'coz they'll never give you the upgrade". Good job Hubby!
Saving laptop battery now... turrah...
It's 10:15pm on Saturday night and we're sitting at Gate 8 in Terminal One of LAX. We had a 5 hour lay-over in LAX which got extended to a 6.5 hour layover. Only 90 extra minutes but it does mean that we will miss our original connecting flight from Charlotte to Montego Bay. At check-in, the attendant put us on what he said was the next available flight from Charlotte, 3.5 hours later, which sucks because now instead of arriving in to Jamaica at 8:30 in the morning, we won't be getting in until 1:30pm - right about when we would be hoping to be sitting on the beach, Pina Colada in-hand.
However, now we find out that there was actually an earlier connecting flight (2 hours earlier) from Charlotte and that the check-in guy just bungled it. So, Hubby is busy trying to "work" the woman at the front counter. She says she can't put us back on the earlier connecting flight because our luggage is already checked and would still arrive on the later flight. Trying to go down and change the tag wa sa possibility but the check-in chick seemed to think the likelihood of that going well was low. Hubby is therefore determined to use our misfortune for a free upgrade. I'll give him points for trying but I have only ever been upgraded for complaining once in 15 years of flying (at London Heathrow after some check-in chick got shirty with me and put me on a passenger 'watch list' - I don't think she got laid the night before or something.) So, sexed-up check-in agents aside, it's not looking good.
We spent the last 4 hours wasting time by renting a car for $20 from Thrifty and driving to Manhattan Beach for a glimpse at the sparkling Pacific Ocean we miss so much, then some dinner on the Manhattan Beach Blvd. strip. All-in-all it was much better than twiddling our fingers in the US Airways lounge for the $80 day pass.
News update... Hubby got us upgraded to First Class. Still not extra time but at least for a red-eye it will be a nicer, more comfy seat. I eat my hat on the "no point in complaining 'coz they'll never give you the upgrade". Good job Hubby!
Saving laptop battery now... turrah...
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Friends make the world go round
This evening I finally connected with a girlfriend I haven't spoken to in months. But still, despite the 500 miles between us and the months of silence, it was like we'd just chatted yesterday.
I left the call feeling energized, young, and happy. Despite the fact that this particular girlfriend is someone that I speak to less than casual acquaintances, I was reminded of the many reasons why she still remains my best friend.
Unfiltered, unabridged, non-judgmental... that's the definition of a true "girlfriend chat". The kind of friendship where you could call and say "I just murdered someone," and she would say "NO WAY! You have to tell me everything!".
It just made me realize how, when you've got a true friend, it doesn't matter what separates you, the things that keep you together are much stronger and more enduring.
I don't have many of these relationships, in fact I could count the ones I have on one hand, but I treasure the ones I do.
Thanks girls... and thanks to this particular girl... you know who you are and I love ya!
I left the call feeling energized, young, and happy. Despite the fact that this particular girlfriend is someone that I speak to less than casual acquaintances, I was reminded of the many reasons why she still remains my best friend.
Unfiltered, unabridged, non-judgmental... that's the definition of a true "girlfriend chat". The kind of friendship where you could call and say "I just murdered someone," and she would say "NO WAY! You have to tell me everything!".
It just made me realize how, when you've got a true friend, it doesn't matter what separates you, the things that keep you together are much stronger and more enduring.
I don't have many of these relationships, in fact I could count the ones I have on one hand, but I treasure the ones I do.
Thanks girls... and thanks to this particular girl... you know who you are and I love ya!
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
Give the lady a break
It just makes me mad that the media is criticizing Hillary Clinton for not having conceded the Democratic nomination yet. Why is it that, for one second, people cannot connect with this situation on a human level, regardless of their opinion of her, her policies, or her campaign?
Here is a woman who started her campaign 18 months ago, ahead in the polls and a virtual shoo-in for the nomination, and has spent months - no years - listening to the conjecture about her candidacy. A woman who has won 18 million votes and the passionate support of men and women across the country. A 60-year old woman who has attended more than 1,000 campaign events (200 more than Obama) in almost every state in our nation, has raised (like Obama) more money than any presidential campaign before her, and who has poured millions of dollars of her own fortune into the cause also. A woman who has had thousands of volunteers and staffers working tirelessly for her cause. often at the expense of their own lives and families. And a woman who has seen her husband win this same prize, who knows the taste of victory, and the reality of the grand opportunity she was given but that has slipped through her fingers.
So, why then is it impossible to imagine that even a powerful, ambitious woman, has feelings and emotions that she needs to work through after such a hard-fought campaign?
Our society seems to require women place themselves in one box or another. You're either assertive, ambitious, smart, and unfeeling (a "bitch") or you're a blithering mess who can't be relied upon to handle positions of real responsibility (hello - is this a Jane Austin novel?)
Give the lady a break, I say. Whatever you think of Hillary Clinton, she is not a robot. Give her time to process the reality of her situation in the cold light of day and to consider her goodbye speech as well as Obama considers each of his well-measured words. Give her time to work through the disappointment, the goodbyes, to look beyond an end she'd never thought she'd see and toward a future that is uncertain, and space to craft that final speech in a gracious, appropriate and eloquent way. I think she's earned at least that.
Here is a woman who started her campaign 18 months ago, ahead in the polls and a virtual shoo-in for the nomination, and has spent months - no years - listening to the conjecture about her candidacy. A woman who has won 18 million votes and the passionate support of men and women across the country. A 60-year old woman who has attended more than 1,000 campaign events (200 more than Obama) in almost every state in our nation, has raised (like Obama) more money than any presidential campaign before her, and who has poured millions of dollars of her own fortune into the cause also. A woman who has had thousands of volunteers and staffers working tirelessly for her cause. often at the expense of their own lives and families. And a woman who has seen her husband win this same prize, who knows the taste of victory, and the reality of the grand opportunity she was given but that has slipped through her fingers.
So, why then is it impossible to imagine that even a powerful, ambitious woman, has feelings and emotions that she needs to work through after such a hard-fought campaign?
Our society seems to require women place themselves in one box or another. You're either assertive, ambitious, smart, and unfeeling (a "bitch") or you're a blithering mess who can't be relied upon to handle positions of real responsibility (hello - is this a Jane Austin novel?)
Give the lady a break, I say. Whatever you think of Hillary Clinton, she is not a robot. Give her time to process the reality of her situation in the cold light of day and to consider her goodbye speech as well as Obama considers each of his well-measured words. Give her time to work through the disappointment, the goodbyes, to look beyond an end she'd never thought she'd see and toward a future that is uncertain, and space to craft that final speech in a gracious, appropriate and eloquent way. I think she's earned at least that.
Monday, June 02, 2008
Snot fun... but it soon will be!
Last week SUCKED. I was sooooo sick. I didn't know one head could hold that much snot. I went from a head so packed-up that water leaked constantly out of my eyes and nostrils, to the now globules of gunk that continue to make me giddy when I blow my nose. While I thought I was starting to come through it on Tuesday, I went rapidly downhill on Wednesday when I was essentially catatonic: I actually layed on the bed (something I never usually do, even when sick) for a whole hour without sleeping or moving, staring out the patio window. I don't think I had a single cognitive thought that whole time. There was so much goop dripping out of me, a regular box of tissues just didn't cut it. Instead I had to resort to carrying around a toilet roll and a plastic baggie, the latter for immediate and sanitary disposal of snotty tissues. I think I actually went through 3 toilet rolls last week
Still yesterday, 8 days after I first got this thing, I drove up the hill with Hubby to see his mom and the elevation change played such havoc with my ears that they popped and whined like a frying pan full of Bubble & Squeak.
So, overall: BLECH
In other news, the Gluten Free diet thing is going well. Hubby and I are discovering the secret life of packaged foods, with the result being that things we didn't think would be gluten free are, and visa versa. We've also come to recognize that this is actually quite a common issue and one that many restaurants are well equipped to deal with. At first, after reading some of the literature online. we thought we'd have to grow our own vegetables and slaughter our own cows for the rest of our life. Then we found that there are actually some well-known restaurants that not only accomodate gluten-free guests, but actually provide special menus for them. A few of note are P.F. Changs, Outback, and Chipotle. We've also upped the percentage of our groceries we purchase at Trader Joes, which has an entire 6-page PDF on their website listing all the items in their store that are gluten free. Since I already love TJs and their food tends to be cheaper than the regular grocery store, this is a win-win all around.
Hubby seems to feel that the diet is helping his digestion and, while I'm not feeling any immediate benefit, I'm not all that bothered by sticking to it. Although, I've got to say, when I was sick I could have MURDERED simple piece of wheat toast with butter. But I did not give in. Nope. Will-power won out. Actually, I could still murder a piece of wheat toast with butter, which is funny because I never ate that much bread before. It's that stupid reticular activator, I guess
Finally, this is our last work week before we head off to Jamaica - yes, the carrot at the end of the stick I offered myself, in exchange for having my hip operation. We leave on Saturday night to take a red-eye out of L.A. and arrive in Montego Bay late morning on Sunday. Then it's a one hour bus ride to Negril, the "Capital of Cool". Despite being several pounds heavier that I would like to be to don a bathing suit, I just can't wait to slip on my tankini and wade out into the clear, warm Caribbean. This will be our second time in Jamaica and our second time at the Couples Resort. Since I generally view repeat visits as a waste of valuable traveling time, you can guess just how much we loved it last time.
Sun, sand, pina coladas, and reggae... utter paradise.
Still yesterday, 8 days after I first got this thing, I drove up the hill with Hubby to see his mom and the elevation change played such havoc with my ears that they popped and whined like a frying pan full of Bubble & Squeak.
So, overall: BLECH
In other news, the Gluten Free diet thing is going well. Hubby and I are discovering the secret life of packaged foods, with the result being that things we didn't think would be gluten free are, and visa versa. We've also come to recognize that this is actually quite a common issue and one that many restaurants are well equipped to deal with. At first, after reading some of the literature online. we thought we'd have to grow our own vegetables and slaughter our own cows for the rest of our life. Then we found that there are actually some well-known restaurants that not only accomodate gluten-free guests, but actually provide special menus for them. A few of note are P.F. Changs, Outback, and Chipotle. We've also upped the percentage of our groceries we purchase at Trader Joes, which has an entire 6-page PDF on their website listing all the items in their store that are gluten free. Since I already love TJs and their food tends to be cheaper than the regular grocery store, this is a win-win all around.
Hubby seems to feel that the diet is helping his digestion and, while I'm not feeling any immediate benefit, I'm not all that bothered by sticking to it. Although, I've got to say, when I was sick I could have MURDERED simple piece of wheat toast with butter. But I did not give in. Nope. Will-power won out. Actually, I could still murder a piece of wheat toast with butter, which is funny because I never ate that much bread before. It's that stupid reticular activator, I guess
Finally, this is our last work week before we head off to Jamaica - yes, the carrot at the end of the stick I offered myself, in exchange for having my hip operation. We leave on Saturday night to take a red-eye out of L.A. and arrive in Montego Bay late morning on Sunday. Then it's a one hour bus ride to Negril, the "Capital of Cool". Despite being several pounds heavier that I would like to be to don a bathing suit, I just can't wait to slip on my tankini and wade out into the clear, warm Caribbean. This will be our second time in Jamaica and our second time at the Couples Resort. Since I generally view repeat visits as a waste of valuable traveling time, you can guess just how much we loved it last time.
Sun, sand, pina coladas, and reggae... utter paradise.
Me floating in the Caribbean in December of 2005. Soon to be repeated!
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Memorial Weekend BLECH
If you're wondering why I have not posted any exciting expoloits from my Memorial Day weekend, it's because I didn't have any. I'm sick. I have a horrible cold that started on Saturday morning and that continues to plague me, full-throttle, today. My head feels like someone poured glue into my ears until it overflowed and now everything that was already in my head is being pushed out and is trying to escape through my nose and eyes. My glands are swollen, I can barely hear, my nose is red, my eyes are bloodshot, and my head is disproportionately hot in comparison to the rest of my body. I don't have a temperature but I feel like I should have. This, coupled with the lacklustre, blustery, wet weather meant no fun for BritRant on Memorial Day weekend.
Boooooooooo Hisssssssssssssss.
Boooooooooo Hisssssssssssssss.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
He won! I won! He won! I won!
Whoooooooooooooooeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! This HARDLY EVER happens to me. David Cook, my favorite in American Idol, actually took the whole competition last night - by 12 million votes! Not only did I want him to win because I liked him, I had actually pulled his name out of a hat and therefore won a pool at Joss' work. (Ok, Joss physically did the pulling but he was my pick.) We went to a party at Hubbie's boss' house to watch the finale and I have to tell you I was flabberghasted when Seafoam said "...Cook". Hubbie and I just sort of stared at each other in disbelief - we had really convinced ourself that Simon had handed it to Archuletta on a plate the night before. (Something Mr. Cowell had to back-pedal on before the announcement -- that should have been a clue in itself.)
So, I eat my hat on my previous post, and gladly. Although I'm still not entirely convinced that he wanted to win the whole thing. I guess we'll never know.
Now I just pray, pray, pray that they don't have a bunch of Archuleta-type ballads lined-up for his first album. I would hate to see him re-packaged into a candy-pop, teen sensation. Hopefully he can do in rock/alternative what Carrie Underwood did in Country.
In tribute to America finally finding a true talent, I'm posting not his finale song (the pre-requisite song about "this moment") but his rendition of Billie Jean, the moment when everyone's eyes just opened-up and we all thought "Oh my God, there's actually a real star on the stage."
Yay!
So, I eat my hat on my previous post, and gladly. Although I'm still not entirely convinced that he wanted to win the whole thing. I guess we'll never know.
Now I just pray, pray, pray that they don't have a bunch of Archuleta-type ballads lined-up for his first album. I would hate to see him re-packaged into a candy-pop, teen sensation. Hopefully he can do in rock/alternative what Carrie Underwood did in Country.
In tribute to America finally finding a true talent, I'm posting not his finale song (the pre-requisite song about "this moment") but his rendition of Billie Jean, the moment when everyone's eyes just opened-up and we all thought "Oh my God, there's actually a real star on the stage."
Yay!
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
He's going for second, BEST
Last night was the American Idol finale and my favorite, David Cook worked hard.... for second place. I believe this was totally intentional and aparently I'm not the only one. "What is your new foot smell?" blog, also agrees
There is no way that Cook, who early-on demonstrated an uncanny nack (and some considerable balls) for picking and re-arranging popular pop classics to sound new again, suddenly had a complete lapse of judgment on the most 'important' night of his life. It just seems very unlikely to me that the eloquent, savvy, and musically talented Cook would completely mis-judge the expectations for the evening - rousing, vocally-taxing and sappy ballads about being in the most important 'moment' of your life (a la Kelly Clarkson's "A Moment Like This"). Maybe he never watched an AI finale before but I seriously doubt it. Not only did he fail to demonstrate bravery or ingenuity in how he picked or arranged the songs, he was even uncharacteristically off-key in the second round.
I just don't buy it.
I think, like 'Foot Smell', that DC realizes that there will be more room in the future for his musical abilities, by in coming 2nd.
Having got himself onto the world stage, in front of millions of people, generating name recognition and a loyal fan-base on somebody else's dime, I sensed his "brilliance" waining about 3 weeks ago. I turned to Hubbie and I said, "You know, it would be great if someone like him could win. I mean, look at Daughtry, he should have won." No sooner had the words come out of my mouth than it slapped me across the face: David Cook is trying to throw the contest! Would Daughtry have been as successful if he had won American Idol? Would his alternative-rock edge have been blunted by the manufactured image and songs dolled-out to the Idol winners? It's quite likely. I don't know for sure but I think David Cook thinks he does.
So, I don't think DC will win but, in thinking about it, I'm actually quite happy about that. I eagerly await his first album. Let's hope I'm right and his renditions of "Hello" and "Billy Jean" didn't give us false expectations.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Sometimes a fire up your arse is all you need
A couple of weeks ago I received some constructive criticism from my boss about my webinar performance. (Remember, I asked my boss to help me become a better presenter/speaker?) Although it was kind, positive, and helpful on a tactical level, it was still pretty tough to take. I don't like advice or criticism - as I said, I want to figure it out all myself because somewhere deep down I seem to have some bizarre belief that I was born, innately, with all the world's knowledge locked somewhere in my brain.
Can I get a "yeah right?"
Anyway, I had my first opportunity to put her recommendations to work last Friday on a webinar for a prospect here locally. And wouldn't you believe it - I won the account on the same day! I spoke to the President 30 minutes after the webinar and he made the commitment there and then.
Um, wow!
Then, today, I had another webinar with a prospect on the east coast. This one hasn't turned out to be quite as definitive yet but I definitely left the online meeting with the feeling that we are quite solidly in the game to win the business.
Now, this one I would really like to win because I know two of our competitors are going head-to-head with us right now. After losing some big accounts to a specific competitor of late, we've (I've) learned a lot about how to better present our product to address objections as well as how to price our product to be competitive (our pricing models are not apples-to-apples so it's often hard.)
Let's hope this "new sales attitude" carries me through to the close. Cross all your bits for me!
Can I get a "yeah right?"
Anyway, I had my first opportunity to put her recommendations to work last Friday on a webinar for a prospect here locally. And wouldn't you believe it - I won the account on the same day! I spoke to the President 30 minutes after the webinar and he made the commitment there and then.
Um, wow!
Then, today, I had another webinar with a prospect on the east coast. This one hasn't turned out to be quite as definitive yet but I definitely left the online meeting with the feeling that we are quite solidly in the game to win the business.
Now, this one I would really like to win because I know two of our competitors are going head-to-head with us right now. After losing some big accounts to a specific competitor of late, we've (I've) learned a lot about how to better present our product to address objections as well as how to price our product to be competitive (our pricing models are not apples-to-apples so it's often hard.)
Let's hope this "new sales attitude" carries me through to the close. Cross all your bits for me!
Monday, May 19, 2008
Fun to free Burma/Myanmar
This video is one of many posted to YouTube each day by the Burma: It Can't Wait campaign. You can learn more here: http://www.youtube.com/user/uscampaignforburma
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Pow Wow
This morning my sister-in-law and I took my niece, Adah, to her very first parade.
Adah is 19 months old and just the perfect age to begin experiencing the wonders of "special events", of which I am a big fan (now that there is enough of a distance between me and my special event organizing days.)
Pow Wow Days is an Orangevale Tradition for more than 50 years, beginning as a chuck-wagon parade back in the 50s. Since this is our first year living in the area, this was my first Pow Wow Parade too and had no idea what to expect. So we sat in a shady, grassy, spot (thank Heaven, it's in the 90s at 10am here) and watched the short community parade full of little-leaguers, clowns on lawnmowers, and cheerleaders head down a 5 mile stretch of a major street in the area. The Parade is then is followed by a 2 days carnival in the community park but we were too pooped and put-off by the heat to put ourselves through that.
It was so much fun to watch Adah watching the parade and the parade itself was just cheesy and slow-mo enough not to send her into sensory overload. The floats threw out candy at the kids as they passed and, after some coaxing (made easier by the taste of a Tootsie Roll) Adah was all about heading out into the road with the big kids to grab as many candies as her little hands could carry. By the end of the parade her booty was quite impressive and she bore all the markings of a 19 month-old having a good time - a scraped knee, a stained white t-shirt, and a mouth rimmed by chocolate dribble.
After my sister-in-law and I got our caffeine fix and cooled-off at Starbucks, Adah then head rapidly into a post-sugar crash. Time for a nap!
So much fun!
Adah and her proud Aunty hunt for free candy.
Adah is 19 months old and just the perfect age to begin experiencing the wonders of "special events", of which I am a big fan (now that there is enough of a distance between me and my special event organizing days.)
Pow Wow Days is an Orangevale Tradition for more than 50 years, beginning as a chuck-wagon parade back in the 50s. Since this is our first year living in the area, this was my first Pow Wow Parade too and had no idea what to expect. So we sat in a shady, grassy, spot (thank Heaven, it's in the 90s at 10am here) and watched the short community parade full of little-leaguers, clowns on lawnmowers, and cheerleaders head down a 5 mile stretch of a major street in the area. The Parade is then is followed by a 2 days carnival in the community park but we were too pooped and put-off by the heat to put ourselves through that.
It was so much fun to watch Adah watching the parade and the parade itself was just cheesy and slow-mo enough not to send her into sensory overload. The floats threw out candy at the kids as they passed and, after some coaxing (made easier by the taste of a Tootsie Roll) Adah was all about heading out into the road with the big kids to grab as many candies as her little hands could carry. By the end of the parade her booty was quite impressive and she bore all the markings of a 19 month-old having a good time - a scraped knee, a stained white t-shirt, and a mouth rimmed by chocolate dribble.
After my sister-in-law and I got our caffeine fix and cooled-off at Starbucks, Adah then head rapidly into a post-sugar crash. Time for a nap!
So much fun!
Adah and her proud Aunty hunt for free candy.
How much candy can a 19 month old carry in one hand? We sure found out!
Adah, making sure she doesn't miss a thing.
... and now we're heading for the meltdown...
Friday, May 16, 2008
Go Olbermann! Go Olbermann!
Holy Crapola! I didn't think this kind of ascerbic critique even existed in the mainsteam media out here. HOW UTTERLY RELIEVING! I only wish voices like this would have emerged earlier, when it was all a less popular position.
For the last 8 years I have been screaming at Bush on the tv with his same punchline: SHUT THE HELL UP!
105 degrees and 10 pounds
It's 105 degrees here in 'lovely' Sacraghetto... and it's only May!
Opening your back door is liking getting a hot fart in the face. Even at 4:30am this morning, as I headed to the gym, there was little relief: the temperature in my car said 71. The air conditioning seems to never go off even though I have it set to 78 degrees (God, I'm dreading this month's electric bill) and even the dogs seem to look at me cross-eyed when I suggest we go outside.
I thought I had got over the 100+ shock but I realize now that heat tolerance (for me at least) is very closely linked to poundage - my poundage. Since I've gained about 10 pounds in recent months, I'm feeling very uncomfortable in my own skin right now - add to this the oppressive heat, sweating, needing to wear less clothing. Yuck. There is just nothing worse than sweat between rolls of fat. (Sorry if this is TMI but, you know, it's what's going on with me right now so you're just going to have to wear it.) Even though I've been on Slimfast for 10 days, I've only lost a pound or two and it's not far enough fast enough, especially since I'm contemplating all women's dreaded summer ritual: choosing a swimsuit that doesn't make you look like cottage cheese stuffed into a sausage skin.
Maybe this will help: Hubbie and I are going to try a gluten/wheat-free diet for one week next week.
Hubbie has always had stomach issues (it's genetic) and finds it generally hard to keep food in, and I've always had weight issues (it's genetic) and find it generally hard to eat anything resembling a normal person's diet without blowing up like a balloon. So, unless they can create a Fat Bank that allows me to slice off some leg fat and donate it to Hubbie's butt, we're going to try the gluten-free thing. (Incidentally, if you know of such a bank, please forward details pronto.)
E of Gurly Life fame is already on this diet and I've met some others throughout my life who also swear that this has turned their weight and/or digestive system around. So, I'm interested to see if it will work for us.
I've done some reading-up on what we'll have to deprive ourselves of and, although the list is substantially more extensive than this, here's a small taster:
Opening your back door is liking getting a hot fart in the face. Even at 4:30am this morning, as I headed to the gym, there was little relief: the temperature in my car said 71. The air conditioning seems to never go off even though I have it set to 78 degrees (God, I'm dreading this month's electric bill) and even the dogs seem to look at me cross-eyed when I suggest we go outside.
I thought I had got over the 100+ shock but I realize now that heat tolerance (for me at least) is very closely linked to poundage - my poundage. Since I've gained about 10 pounds in recent months, I'm feeling very uncomfortable in my own skin right now - add to this the oppressive heat, sweating, needing to wear less clothing. Yuck. There is just nothing worse than sweat between rolls of fat. (Sorry if this is TMI but, you know, it's what's going on with me right now so you're just going to have to wear it.) Even though I've been on Slimfast for 10 days, I've only lost a pound or two and it's not far enough fast enough, especially since I'm contemplating all women's dreaded summer ritual: choosing a swimsuit that doesn't make you look like cottage cheese stuffed into a sausage skin.
Maybe this will help: Hubbie and I are going to try a gluten/wheat-free diet for one week next week.
Hubbie has always had stomach issues (it's genetic) and finds it generally hard to keep food in, and I've always had weight issues (it's genetic) and find it generally hard to eat anything resembling a normal person's diet without blowing up like a balloon. So, unless they can create a Fat Bank that allows me to slice off some leg fat and donate it to Hubbie's butt, we're going to try the gluten-free thing. (Incidentally, if you know of such a bank, please forward details pronto.)
E of Gurly Life fame is already on this diet and I've met some others throughout my life who also swear that this has turned their weight and/or digestive system around. So, I'm interested to see if it will work for us.
I've done some reading-up on what we'll have to deprive ourselves of and, although the list is substantially more extensive than this, here's a small taster:
- Instant chocolate drink mixes - a problem for me since I love my Cadbury's 40 calorie Highlights)
- Whole wheat, enriched, or white bread, rolls, or bread crumbs - a problem for both me and Hubster since we both love bread. Hubbie particularly is going to have to figure out WHAT to order at the drive-thru now he cannot have a bun or a tortilla.
- Cereals made from farina, wheat, or those with wheat products or malt added - boo hoo, I love my cereal.
- Cakes, pastries, commercial frosting, icing, ice cream, sherbet, ice cream cones - are you kidding me? It's 105 degrees people! Yikes, this one could be hard.
- Cookies, prepared mixes, or packaged pudding containing wheat flour - did you know my nickname is "The Cookie Monster"?
- Any salad dressing thickened or gravy with wheat flour or products - I'm guessing this just about eliminates all the salad dressings in the regular grocery aisle. Can you believe this? Even salad, that good-ole staple of every woman's pre-bikini diet, could be an issue.
- All breaded or floured meats, meats containing filler such as meatloaf, frankfurters, sausage, luncheon meats, bologna, or prepared meat patties - Um... so now there's no bun and no meat patty for Hubbie? What will he survive on? Plus frankfurters? Now that's just not fair. Take away my childhood foods why don't you. :(
- Noodles, spaghetti, macaroni, and other pasta products prepared with wheat or semolina flour - not that we eat much pasta but just the thought of not being able to makes me want to head out to Macaroni Grill this weekend and mac-out.
- Chocolates, chocolate candy containing malt, candy with cereal extract - haha! No late-night tv-binges for Hubbie. I don't eat chocolate, so I'm gloating here.
- Soy sauce - waaaaaaaaaaaa? What do we put on the rice?
So, based on this, it's easy to see that this has the potential not to last any longer than our one week trial unless we both experience a substantial physical epiphany. We'll try, but I just don't know.
I'll let you know how it goes...
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Monday, May 12, 2008
I'm still alive! Aren't I?
The question is: did anyone notice my absence?
Yes, yes, yes, I know I'm going to get a ton of emails and comments telling me how you all (all 4 of you) do, actually, read my blog but the reality is that I'm not so riveting as to be missed.
Wah, wah, wah... woe is me.
So, what has actually been going on in Britranting land for the past 2 weeks?
Well, first there was the visit from the parents. A flying visit mind you. They came out to look at homes and found one they wanted to put an offer in on. Well, I say "found"... this house had actually been on the radar-screen since before Christmas. For whatever reason, the owners (the sons of the deceased couple - we think - who used to own it) were stuck on their asking price and, despite 270+ days on the market, hadn't budged in more than 100 days. However, with the help of my wonder-agent Hubby they offered, got the sellers down $50k, and are now in escrow. I know, cripes! After 12 years living 6,000 miles away from my parents, the reality is dawning on me that it might soon be that they live just around the corner. I say this like it's a bad thing, which of course it is not. I actually can't wait for Sunday Dinner at Mum and Dad's house, coffees after work with Mum, and seeing Hubby and Dad puttering around in the back garden together. Of course, there is the immigration stuff to work through still but given that myself and my parents are not terrorists, axe murderers, or cat burglers, I can't think of any reason why they wouldn't get their visa eventually.
Next, work is still very busy. A big deal that we thought was dead in the water actually resurrected itself last week and so now we've got all hands on deck to try and close this baby down. We've scheduled "one more" webinar with them on Thursday. Both me and my boss will be on the demo and our SVP and owners are calling around current clients to get a gluttony of kudos to serve up for desert.
Rather than being nervous about the presentation, however, I'm actually pretty excited. I've been getting some coaching from my boss on my sales presentation skills (remember this was something I wanted to get better at this year) and, while I'm still not enjoying the experience of being critiqued, I'm feeling energized by the fact that I'm learning to get better. Being on this webinar with my boss will be an opportunity to not only watch and observe how she does it but also a chance to flex my own apprenticeship skills. Of course, I'm also very excited about winning the business and getting a big fat commission check. That's a given.
Through this process I have been able to determine exactly what it is about coaching and getting advice that I don't like. What I've found is pretty interesting to me: I feel that, if someone else has to tell/show me how to do it, then it's not an achievement I can claim as my own.
Clearly, this is a pretty narrow vision for success and something I'll have to get over if I'm going to grow in any meaningful way. I totally recognize that, at some point in my life, somebody had to show/tell/teach me almost everything I know in order for me to have achieved anything, so I don't know how I got "here" exactly. But now, when I look at how I have tended to do everything in the last 10 years or so, it totally fits. For the most part, I'll try to figure stuff out for myself, then if I absolutely have to (and only if I have to) Google, read books, go to classes/webinars, watch DVDs, take notes on others... you name it, I'll try it. But the very last resort in almost any case is to ask someone to help me.
I don't have a whole lot of interest in analyzing myself to death on this particular issue. I mean, this is how I am and it's probably going to be how I am for the rest of my life, but it doesn't mean that it has to govern what I do. So, my focus is on just 'ignoring' my reticence, letting my inner-rationale smack me upside the head whenever I start to hear the emotional me claim that I can't claim a success just because I got coaching, and generally getting on with it anyway, the way us Brits like to do. That's one quality I love about the Brits... we just get on with it. Too much self-reflection is for sissies.
Aside from all this, there are just a lot of leads both incoming and prospecting, to follow-up on and the prospecting ones are all hard work. Trying to find meaningful reasons to call or email a prospect vs. just blanket-marketing them with a generic message, takes a lot of time and effort. Ultimately, however, I'm confident it will yield better results it's just that right now it's a lot of work without a lot of reward.
Meanwhile. Hubby is going GANGBUSTERS. He's got deals up the yin-yang! I'm so proud of the wonderful, knowledgeable, skilled agent he has become over the last few years. Like lawyers, Realtors often get a bad rap, but for those who really treat it is a craft there are significant skills involved. Hubby knows his market - inventory, trends, stats - he pays attention to his clients needs, he knows what questions to ask the cooperating agent to help his clients put together an offer that will succeed, he coordinates escrows like a military operation, but more than anything he is a professional, personable, service-provider to his clients. I'm so glad that all his hard work and persistence is finally beginning to pay off. He's getting respect in his office, kudos from his clients, and finally stats on the board to go with it all.
Finally, the weather here has been gorgeous: low 80s/high 70s, a slight breeze. Right now I'm sitting out on my deck and it's a pretty windy evening. The wind-chimes are going crazy, the squirrels are racing up and down the trees driving my dogs nuts (if you pardon the pun), items are scuttling along our deck, and swaying branches with new foliage are rustling loudly. They say it's going to be 100 degrees by Thursday, which I'm not entirely excited about, but so far it's been a wonderful couple of weeks. As I've said before, the last thing I've wanted to do is sit on a laptop and blog.
So, with that, I'm off to appreciate the remaining evening light, maybe read some more of my book.
Taataa!
Yes, yes, yes, I know I'm going to get a ton of emails and comments telling me how you all (all 4 of you) do, actually, read my blog but the reality is that I'm not so riveting as to be missed.
Wah, wah, wah... woe is me.
So, what has actually been going on in Britranting land for the past 2 weeks?
Well, first there was the visit from the parents. A flying visit mind you. They came out to look at homes and found one they wanted to put an offer in on. Well, I say "found"... this house had actually been on the radar-screen since before Christmas. For whatever reason, the owners (the sons of the deceased couple - we think - who used to own it) were stuck on their asking price and, despite 270+ days on the market, hadn't budged in more than 100 days. However, with the help of my wonder-agent Hubby they offered, got the sellers down $50k, and are now in escrow. I know, cripes! After 12 years living 6,000 miles away from my parents, the reality is dawning on me that it might soon be that they live just around the corner. I say this like it's a bad thing, which of course it is not. I actually can't wait for Sunday Dinner at Mum and Dad's house, coffees after work with Mum, and seeing Hubby and Dad puttering around in the back garden together. Of course, there is the immigration stuff to work through still but given that myself and my parents are not terrorists, axe murderers, or cat burglers, I can't think of any reason why they wouldn't get their visa eventually.
Next, work is still very busy. A big deal that we thought was dead in the water actually resurrected itself last week and so now we've got all hands on deck to try and close this baby down. We've scheduled "one more" webinar with them on Thursday. Both me and my boss will be on the demo and our SVP and owners are calling around current clients to get a gluttony of kudos to serve up for desert.
Rather than being nervous about the presentation, however, I'm actually pretty excited. I've been getting some coaching from my boss on my sales presentation skills (remember this was something I wanted to get better at this year) and, while I'm still not enjoying the experience of being critiqued, I'm feeling energized by the fact that I'm learning to get better. Being on this webinar with my boss will be an opportunity to not only watch and observe how she does it but also a chance to flex my own apprenticeship skills. Of course, I'm also very excited about winning the business and getting a big fat commission check. That's a given.
Through this process I have been able to determine exactly what it is about coaching and getting advice that I don't like. What I've found is pretty interesting to me: I feel that, if someone else has to tell/show me how to do it, then it's not an achievement I can claim as my own.
Clearly, this is a pretty narrow vision for success and something I'll have to get over if I'm going to grow in any meaningful way. I totally recognize that, at some point in my life, somebody had to show/tell/teach me almost everything I know in order for me to have achieved anything, so I don't know how I got "here" exactly. But now, when I look at how I have tended to do everything in the last 10 years or so, it totally fits. For the most part, I'll try to figure stuff out for myself, then if I absolutely have to (and only if I have to) Google, read books, go to classes/webinars, watch DVDs, take notes on others... you name it, I'll try it. But the very last resort in almost any case is to ask someone to help me.
I don't have a whole lot of interest in analyzing myself to death on this particular issue. I mean, this is how I am and it's probably going to be how I am for the rest of my life, but it doesn't mean that it has to govern what I do. So, my focus is on just 'ignoring' my reticence, letting my inner-rationale smack me upside the head whenever I start to hear the emotional me claim that I can't claim a success just because I got coaching, and generally getting on with it anyway, the way us Brits like to do. That's one quality I love about the Brits... we just get on with it. Too much self-reflection is for sissies.
Aside from all this, there are just a lot of leads both incoming and prospecting, to follow-up on and the prospecting ones are all hard work. Trying to find meaningful reasons to call or email a prospect vs. just blanket-marketing them with a generic message, takes a lot of time and effort. Ultimately, however, I'm confident it will yield better results it's just that right now it's a lot of work without a lot of reward.
Meanwhile. Hubby is going GANGBUSTERS. He's got deals up the yin-yang! I'm so proud of the wonderful, knowledgeable, skilled agent he has become over the last few years. Like lawyers, Realtors often get a bad rap, but for those who really treat it is a craft there are significant skills involved. Hubby knows his market - inventory, trends, stats - he pays attention to his clients needs, he knows what questions to ask the cooperating agent to help his clients put together an offer that will succeed, he coordinates escrows like a military operation, but more than anything he is a professional, personable, service-provider to his clients. I'm so glad that all his hard work and persistence is finally beginning to pay off. He's getting respect in his office, kudos from his clients, and finally stats on the board to go with it all.
Finally, the weather here has been gorgeous: low 80s/high 70s, a slight breeze. Right now I'm sitting out on my deck and it's a pretty windy evening. The wind-chimes are going crazy, the squirrels are racing up and down the trees driving my dogs nuts (if you pardon the pun), items are scuttling along our deck, and swaying branches with new foliage are rustling loudly. They say it's going to be 100 degrees by Thursday, which I'm not entirely excited about, but so far it's been a wonderful couple of weeks. As I've said before, the last thing I've wanted to do is sit on a laptop and blog.
So, with that, I'm off to appreciate the remaining evening light, maybe read some more of my book.
Taataa!
Thursday, May 01, 2008
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Futher proof that our wedding was THE event of 2006
Woot woot! Our wedding planner (and also good, good friend), Joe Wilson, and our wedding venue, The Foresthouse, both won the KCRA3 "A List" viewer awards in their respective categories this year.
They both deserve the praise and the recognition - they made our day the rock-roarin' party we had always imagined.
Congratulations both of you!
Joe, me, and Hubby on the big day.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Going public
Although you say it to their face often, sometimes you feel a visceral need to announce to the world just how much you love someone and how wonderful they are - you know, to give it gravitasse.
That's how I feel about my Hubby. For many, many reasons that most of you know and many more that you don't, he's just the most wonderful person I know. Oh, and yes, he's pretty hot too! ;o)
Monday, April 28, 2008
Fwoaaah!
Summer has arrived suddenly here in Sacraghetto. Yesterday temperatures nudged 90 degrees, highlighting the woeful inadequacy of our air conditioning system. I swear, I could blow cooler air harder than that unit. We finally succumbed to turning it on when the temperature reached 80 yesterday and one hour later the temperature gage said 83. Yes, that's right, it went UP. Even this morning at 4:30 as I headed out to the gym, the thing was grinding along with a net cooling effect of only 79 degrees. It was 53 outside but still 79 in our house. Nuts.
Fortunately, when we bought the house, we purchased a home warranty that covered a/c. So, with the forecast predicting more 80+ temps, we're going to be calling them today.
Fortunately, when we bought the house, we purchased a home warranty that covered a/c. So, with the forecast predicting more 80+ temps, we're going to be calling them today.
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