Rita & I were in Michigan this past weekend for a 40th birthday party. That party was positively….incendiary. And while it was one HOT party, I mean incendiary in terms of…”Did you see Ruth catch her hair on fire last night?”
First of all, no birthday candles were harmed in the making of this blog. Second of all, as far as hair burns go – it really was pretty minor. I’ve done worse myself [granted…I was five years old, but the key thing to remember is it all grows back.] Most importantly, Ruth was laughing about it, so I feel like I can too [plus I don’t know her and I hope no one tells her about this blog]. Out of the experience, I came away with some specific advice that we all could benefit from:
First: For those of you thinking of hosting a party in your home, I recommend that you not ensconce the fireplace mantle in a row of beautiful [but apparently dangerous] burning candles. Either that or you only invite really tall, really short or really bald party goers. Who knew there was a surprising risk that someone will lean their head back, perhaps to get the perfect angle on a picture, and dunk their hair into open flame like they were at the apple-bob at the county fair?
Second: It turns out that when the back of your head catches fire, you may be the last to know. Therefore, friends who begin beating you about the [admittedly on fire] head should probably explain themselves first. Otherwise, the enflamed guest believes herself to be under random attack, which only leads to other, completely unrelated, issues [“I told you if you ever hit me again you crazy bitch…”]
Third: I don’t care how insensitive it was, “the Ruth, the Ruth, the Ruth is on fire” was simply the best line of the night [after it was extinguished, of course!]
My final piece of advice? If you accidentally set your hair on fire at a party [and who hasn’t?] in addition to perhaps paying more attention to your surroundings, you should probably wait until morning [when slightly fewer cocktails have been consumed] to begin cutting out the damage. Turns out that scissors can do WAY more damage than flames.
Friday, July 9, 2010
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
R I P
Sorry I haven’t blogged in a while….I’ve been in mourning since I quit working. Turns out it’s not the hustle or the bustle that I miss…not the job…or the people – it’s the to-do list.
Those of you who are “listers” know what I’m talking about. When I was working, I had an elaborate listing [and re-listing] system that kept everything on a tightly wound schedule [air traffic control for the counting of beans]. That’s right, I can’t remember to pack my power cord half the time, but I can keep track of what a dozen direct reports are doing every hour of the day…because it is written on a little yellow notecard…in black ink…in size 3 font…prioritized as an A, B or C (in pencil). [I’m revealing too much, aren’t I?]
I’ve tried to keep the to-do list feeling going even while I’m not working, but it just isn’t the same. I only have 11 things on the list right now and one of them is “wish my brother happy birthday”. First of all, his birthday is still two days away. Second of all, it’s the same day as mine…do I really need to write it down to remember it? [but I can’t cross it off if I don’t write it down!].
Rita was working on the plane ride home Monday and I think I was actually getting to-do list envy. There she was, adding item after item, in neat little hand writing. Dammit. I took out my own to-do list and wrote down “buy black pens”.
Rita keeps trying to give me a to-do list for the house, but me being home not only doesn’t result in anything getting crossed OFF the list, it actually makes the list longer. [“get broken coffee maker fixed; replant tomato plants that McC told the gardener to pull out”].
Oh well, I’ve got to run now or else I won't be able to cross off "Watch World Cup Soccer" from my to-do list.
Those of you who are “listers” know what I’m talking about. When I was working, I had an elaborate listing [and re-listing] system that kept everything on a tightly wound schedule [air traffic control for the counting of beans]. That’s right, I can’t remember to pack my power cord half the time, but I can keep track of what a dozen direct reports are doing every hour of the day…because it is written on a little yellow notecard…in black ink…in size 3 font…prioritized as an A, B or C (in pencil). [I’m revealing too much, aren’t I?]
I’ve tried to keep the to-do list feeling going even while I’m not working, but it just isn’t the same. I only have 11 things on the list right now and one of them is “wish my brother happy birthday”. First of all, his birthday is still two days away. Second of all, it’s the same day as mine…do I really need to write it down to remember it? [but I can’t cross it off if I don’t write it down!].
Rita was working on the plane ride home Monday and I think I was actually getting to-do list envy. There she was, adding item after item, in neat little hand writing. Dammit. I took out my own to-do list and wrote down “buy black pens”.
Rita keeps trying to give me a to-do list for the house, but me being home not only doesn’t result in anything getting crossed OFF the list, it actually makes the list longer. [“get broken coffee maker fixed; replant tomato plants that McC told the gardener to pull out”].
Oh well, I’ve got to run now or else I won't be able to cross off "Watch World Cup Soccer" from my to-do list.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Dinnertime!
Check out this pic from the trip to Hong Kong:
Now…you’re probably saying to yourself….why were Rita and McC shopping for pets while they were in Hong Kong??? I thought the same thing…until I found out we were shopping for DINNER. Aaahhhhh! The custom here is to eat seafood so fresh that it was alive before you came along. Aaahhhhhh! The workers stand around in galoshes and you point out which fish/shrimps/clams would look better on a plate. [We’ll take Nemo with a side of lemon?]
Where did I think the seafood came from? Costco. I don’t expect to be involved in its execution.
After we imposed our death sentence, we went inside to the full-service restaurant [I’m going to need a beer after that]. Once again our hosts got creative in their ordering and a plate of sliced 1,000 year-old eggs arrived at the table. [I’ll take another beer.] I don’t think it’s really 1,000 years old…but the fact it could pass for it was worrisome enough. This particular delicacy looks like an Easter egg prep gone horribly awry. The egg “white” is actually a gelatinous forest green and the yolk a deep purple. [I think Dr. Seuss made the appetizer. The incredible, indelible egg?] And you top it off by dipping it in sugar. [Just sugar? Do you have any ketchup?]
This is where Rita decided the “you-should-just-try-it” rule had its limits…but failed to let me in on the dispensation before I tried the psychedelic treat. [I got the “good sport” award that day – not worth it.]
Then Nemo got plunked down on the table and our server started scooping out filets of our recently departed fish. Given my 1,000-year-old-egg street cred, our server singled me out for the fish cheek…”the best part of the fish”. Great – I win the fish lottery. Except my fish cheek also came with a bonus…the little fishy’s eye ball! Aaaahhhhhh! I tried to push it to the side, but it just kept rolling around my plate. Aaaahhhhhh!
I am suddenly less judgmental of those Americans who come all the way to Asia and then eat at pizza hut.
Now…you’re probably saying to yourself….why were Rita and McC shopping for pets while they were in Hong Kong??? I thought the same thing…until I found out we were shopping for DINNER. Aaahhhhh! The custom here is to eat seafood so fresh that it was alive before you came along. Aaahhhhhh! The workers stand around in galoshes and you point out which fish/shrimps/clams would look better on a plate. [We’ll take Nemo with a side of lemon?]
Where did I think the seafood came from? Costco. I don’t expect to be involved in its execution.
After we imposed our death sentence, we went inside to the full-service restaurant [I’m going to need a beer after that]. Once again our hosts got creative in their ordering and a plate of sliced 1,000 year-old eggs arrived at the table. [I’ll take another beer.] I don’t think it’s really 1,000 years old…but the fact it could pass for it was worrisome enough. This particular delicacy looks like an Easter egg prep gone horribly awry. The egg “white” is actually a gelatinous forest green and the yolk a deep purple. [I think Dr. Seuss made the appetizer. The incredible, indelible egg?] And you top it off by dipping it in sugar. [Just sugar? Do you have any ketchup?]
This is where Rita decided the “you-should-just-try-it” rule had its limits…but failed to let me in on the dispensation before I tried the psychedelic treat. [I got the “good sport” award that day – not worth it.]
Then Nemo got plunked down on the table and our server started scooping out filets of our recently departed fish. Given my 1,000-year-old-egg street cred, our server singled me out for the fish cheek…”the best part of the fish”. Great – I win the fish lottery. Except my fish cheek also came with a bonus…the little fishy’s eye ball! Aaaahhhhhh! I tried to push it to the side, but it just kept rolling around my plate. Aaaahhhhhh!
I am suddenly less judgmental of those Americans who come all the way to Asia and then eat at pizza hut.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
And Dim Some
Eating in Hong Kong is [mostly] amazing. The first day we were here, two business contacts of Rita’s took us for authentic, I-can’t-read-the-Chinese-menu Dim Sum. Dim Sum is a lot like tapas…only with a higher frequency of brain, stomach or tongue. And they wrap the protein in a dumpling, so you’re never quite sure what you’re being served [Dim Sum roulette].
At Dim Sum, each dish is a “snack” with about four pieces of whatever has been ordered. I think the boys who hosted us were surprised that the big girls from America could go through 17 courses [I said it was a snack]. But our Dim Sum lunch IS where we had the unfortunate cow’s-stomach-soup incident [see…only sixteen courses when you exclude the not-very-popular soup]. I knew we were in trouble when one of our hosts laughed as they placed it on the table. A good rule of thumb is to avoid any selection that amuses the people that can actually read the menu.
Now…I’m not very fond of soup in the first place…and even less fond of soup with floaty-brown-sponge things in it. I did, however, think we had to be polite and try everything that our hosts provided [watching Rita – I would later find there were limits to that rule] – so I had a few bites of the floaty brown thingys. It tastes like chicken. Actually, I have no idea how it tastes because Hong Kong is where I have learned to eat without chewing.
The REST of the Dim Sum, of course, was harmless and delicious. But barely prepared us for the seafood dinner later that night…
At Dim Sum, each dish is a “snack” with about four pieces of whatever has been ordered. I think the boys who hosted us were surprised that the big girls from America could go through 17 courses [I said it was a snack]. But our Dim Sum lunch IS where we had the unfortunate cow’s-stomach-soup incident [see…only sixteen courses when you exclude the not-very-popular soup]. I knew we were in trouble when one of our hosts laughed as they placed it on the table. A good rule of thumb is to avoid any selection that amuses the people that can actually read the menu.
Now…I’m not very fond of soup in the first place…and even less fond of soup with floaty-brown-sponge things in it. I did, however, think we had to be polite and try everything that our hosts provided [watching Rita – I would later find there were limits to that rule] – so I had a few bites of the floaty brown thingys. It tastes like chicken. Actually, I have no idea how it tastes because Hong Kong is where I have learned to eat without chewing.
The REST of the Dim Sum, of course, was harmless and delicious. But barely prepared us for the seafood dinner later that night…
Hong Kong Sighting
Hong Kong is an amazing place. I'm still getting acclimated here, but already I have some first impressions:
- The average taxi ride here costs HK$25…which is about $3.00 in US dollars. And no tipping. So your taxi fare across the island is HK$25, but the Starbucks you buy when you get there is HK$31.
- I don’t know if it’s my experiences in San Diego or what, but every time I hear another language, I revert to broken Spanish [WTF]. Imagine the confusion when this tall, white American walks into your shop screaming… “Hola”, “Gracias”, “Por Favor”. Seriously…I have to reach UP to be a tourist.
- If you are non-black-headed here, you stick out like a sore thumb. The constancy of the jet-black hair is startling [the hair color aisle at Walgreen’s is only 3 colors deep]. There are 7 million people in this city, but I only see a brunette/blonde about twice a day. [And for some reason…I always check to see if I know them.]
- People here randomly wear face masks [like the surgical kind]. I had assumed it was virus protection of some sort. [By the way…which pandemic are we on now? Still swine flu?] But someone said that it had more to do with the air quality than tourist repellant. Does breathing the air through a mask make it better? If so, that doesn’t bode well for my workout.
- The humidity is straight out of the movie Platoon. Yesterday it was 83% humidity…but if there was 17% dryness, I didn’t find it. It rains here “from the ground, UP,” as the saying goes.
- With the exchange rate and how cheap things are…you lose track of real money. Today, we almost got mad at a pedi-cabber for the exorbitant charge of HK$100, until we realized he pedaled the biggest woman he’d ever seen across the island for US$12.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Flight of Fancy
“Black Friday” was the day Rita discovered she had lost her status with United Airlines. Which means Rita was unable to upgrade to Business Class at the time we booked the tickets for the decades-long flight to Hong Kong. We’ve been scheming on United points every since…but that’s a different blog. When we were checking in, however, one of us thought she had received a mercy-upgrade at the last minute, while the other one remained in coach. [I guess that would make me Leonardo DiCaprio to her Kate Winslet? Where can I find steerage?]. I told her I was fine as long as rolled a Miller Lite down the aisle every once in a while.
Unfortunately, Rita’s upgrade notification was all a big Business Class tease (!) and we both ended up back in coach. [And I do so hate to see Rita cry.] She got an upgraded seat compared to mine, however, in that she had an operational console. Specifically, she…and Every. Other. Passenger on the plane…had an overhead light and TV sound to use in the completely blacked-out cabin…while I had a bum console and 13 hours of silent darkness. My rucksack of entertainment does me no good if I Have. No. #%@$&. Light. I read by the glow of my laptop until the battery went dead [only 10 more hours to go.] If I had been in a window seat, I would have thrown open the shade and burned the retinas of all the lucky people with their working consoles.
Thankfully, my re-coached girlfriend let me reach across the aisle and plug into her console to watch the movie. Which was all good and well until our stretched-out cord clotheslined half the staff. Honest to god, you would have thought word would have spread amongst the hundred flight attendants about the booby trap in row 19…Instead, it was like a bad episode of the A-Team…with one perky waitress after another hurtling down the aisle until forward progress was violently halted at row 19 [“But since you’re here…can I get another Miller Lite?”]. Of course, those were my ears that the cord was connected to when Suzie the Flight Attendant did her sudden faceplant, so I didn’t come out so great in the deal either.
But Hong Kong was worth the trip...more on that later.
Unfortunately, Rita’s upgrade notification was all a big Business Class tease (!) and we both ended up back in coach. [And I do so hate to see Rita cry.] She got an upgraded seat compared to mine, however, in that she had an operational console. Specifically, she…and Every. Other. Passenger on the plane…had an overhead light and TV sound to use in the completely blacked-out cabin…while I had a bum console and 13 hours of silent darkness. My rucksack of entertainment does me no good if I Have. No. #%@$&. Light. I read by the glow of my laptop until the battery went dead [only 10 more hours to go.] If I had been in a window seat, I would have thrown open the shade and burned the retinas of all the lucky people with their working consoles.
Thankfully, my re-coached girlfriend let me reach across the aisle and plug into her console to watch the movie. Which was all good and well until our stretched-out cord clotheslined half the staff. Honest to god, you would have thought word would have spread amongst the hundred flight attendants about the booby trap in row 19…Instead, it was like a bad episode of the A-Team…with one perky waitress after another hurtling down the aisle until forward progress was violently halted at row 19 [“But since you’re here…can I get another Miller Lite?”]. Of course, those were my ears that the cord was connected to when Suzie the Flight Attendant did her sudden faceplant, so I didn’t come out so great in the deal either.
But Hong Kong was worth the trip...more on that later.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
In Flight Entertainment
While I have yet to plan one single thing for the time we are in Hong Kong, I have planned EXTENSIVELY for the flight over there. Have I mentioned that the flight is a tad….long? We leave today at noon and factoring in the time change, we arrive…in June. [Don’t worry – you get it back on the flight home.]
I have EASILY packed more books, magazines and blog ideas than clothes [skorts don’t take up much space]. If I were to read everything I brought with me, I would earn a Ph.D. before I land. A Ph.D. in worthless, non-fiction trivia, mind you – but a Ph.D. nonetheless. [At least as valuable as Rita’s Ph.D. in cooking magazines.]
I went ahead and penciled in a schedule of activities for the flight, so I knew I would keep busy:
Noon to 1 pm: Happy hour
1 pm to 2 pm: Blogging [always better after happy hour]
2 pm to 3 pm: Daily dose of Winston Churchill biographies
3 pm to touchdown: Ambien/snoring/drooling. My apologies to my neighbor in seat 26B. [OMG!..I’m the reason people don’t like middle seats!]
But I have 8 books on my Kindle, just in case. And a John Grisham paperback should we reach Code Red boredom.
Then there’s the food we packed. Chex mix/bananas/mini snickers/etc./etc.. [Bet the bananas make it all the way to Hong Kong. Maybe even Ireland.] Usually, these provisions would represent a week’s worth of calories. Apparently, however, calories during air travel are like gravity on the space shuttle…only 1/6th count. I mean, when was the last time you let yourself buy a bag of mini-snickers?! [Unless you “put it in escrow” by asking someone else to hide it from you]
With all the food we’ve packed, Rita and I we could start our own airborne canteen. If United’s food cart goes empty, I’m going to pay for this vacation with a granola bar liquidation.
I have EASILY packed more books, magazines and blog ideas than clothes [skorts don’t take up much space]. If I were to read everything I brought with me, I would earn a Ph.D. before I land. A Ph.D. in worthless, non-fiction trivia, mind you – but a Ph.D. nonetheless. [At least as valuable as Rita’s Ph.D. in cooking magazines.]
I went ahead and penciled in a schedule of activities for the flight, so I knew I would keep busy:
Noon to 1 pm: Happy hour
1 pm to 2 pm: Blogging [always better after happy hour]
2 pm to 3 pm: Daily dose of Winston Churchill biographies
3 pm to touchdown: Ambien/snoring/drooling. My apologies to my neighbor in seat 26B. [OMG!..I’m the reason people don’t like middle seats!]
But I have 8 books on my Kindle, just in case. And a John Grisham paperback should we reach Code Red boredom.
Then there’s the food we packed. Chex mix/bananas/mini snickers/etc./etc.. [Bet the bananas make it all the way to Hong Kong. Maybe even Ireland.] Usually, these provisions would represent a week’s worth of calories. Apparently, however, calories during air travel are like gravity on the space shuttle…only 1/6th count. I mean, when was the last time you let yourself buy a bag of mini-snickers?! [Unless you “put it in escrow” by asking someone else to hide it from you]
With all the food we’ve packed, Rita and I we could start our own airborne canteen. If United’s food cart goes empty, I’m going to pay for this vacation with a granola bar liquidation.
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