The Blog is Back

(Warning: this entry contains graphic images that may offend some sensitive readers. Approximately eight fish were harmed in the creation of this entry.)

After seven glorious days at Arnold Lake, I am enjoying the amenities and air conditioning in my hotel room in our nation's capitol, Washington DC. Let me just say, there is nothing like spending your days swimming, canoeing, and walking around the lake. Here are a few pictures to prove it:



There was much paddling of the canoe. It's just like riding a bike! But wetter.



And where's there's a lake, there's fish!



Thankfully, where there's fish, our neighbor Chuck is close at hand to do the dirty work:



Now that's good eatin'.



We left it all behind today as we boarded the plane from Albany to Washington.



We are now enjoying the beautiful yet muggy Crystal City area, complete with underground mall, metro stop, and lovely fountains.



Soon, I will have remembered how to post blog entries that are more than just pictures. I promise.

Milford, NY: buying bait

Barcade

After listening to some fantastic jazz at the Jewish Community Center in midtown Manhattan, and eating some delicious fresh beet salad in a French-style bar/cafe in South Williamsburg, the only logical thing to do is to drink micro-brewed beers in a bar that has allllll the old arcade games--Donkey Kong, Galactica, Ms. Pac Man, you name it. There were other strange things about the bar, but none really worthy mentioning. The evening became admittedly hazy so even the lack of salted peanuts at the bar seemed strange to me.

In two hours, we'll get on a train to Albany on route to the Lake, leaving the exhilaration of New York City behind. It will be a bittersweet departure.

Guess where I am?

Site-seeing in NYC

@ The Planning Shop booth, day 2

Reading Are Fun!

Book Expo America: Day 2.

2 late nights of theatrical entertainment.
2 many free books to ship home.
2 swollen feet.

The taping of The Daily Show was so great. It's as if Jon Stewart and I have this standing date, every year, on or around BEA. It's magical. Or something.

Last night we saw the musical Wicked, and we were absolutely blown away. Talk about a spectacle! And the music was awesome, the performers were outstanding, the story was clever and touching. The post-theater, times square rueben sandwich was $24.95. You know I love New York!

The combination of the disney-esque music form Wicked and the bagpipe player who's been in the BEA lobby the past two days has made for some strange music going through my head.

At Wicked, the musical

BEA day 1: still smilin'

Arthur and Paul waiting @ the daily show

Dedi waiting @ the daily show

Hard at work

Start spreadin' the news...

At the airport, about to board the plane

Everyone's a critic...

The Planning Shop Goes to New York

It's that time of year again! Book Expo America starts Friday, and this time it's in NYC. Can you hear me smiling?? Rhonda and Arthur are already on the East Coast, attending meeting after meeting after meeting... One must make the most of one's trips back East. But all work and no play makes Jack something something...so they'll be unwinding tonight at The Washington Nationals game.

I'm off to the Windy Apple tomorrow. I heard that they have the internet in Manhattan, so I should be able to get some blogging in while I'm there. But next week I'll be on a little vacation of sorts, canoeing and swimming and knitting in the middle of the woods in upstate New York. If the cell phone works, there will be limited moblogging.

The week after that I'll be at the ICSB conference in Washington DC--my first time in our nation's capitol, so when I'm not introducing Entrepreneurship professors to The Planning Shop's materials, I'll be sight-seeing my little behind off. Again, not so much blog time. Somehow, you will survive.

Ozzy loves Moblog

Freedom is very important to the Oz. He is a butterfly. That's why he loves Moblog.

Photo Friday: Symbol

Moblog

Check it out: I'm not at my desk. Yet I am blogging! Is it some sort of pirate magic trick?

Keep me warm all through the night

I finished weaving a nice, snuggly baby blanket for little miss LHR this week--just in time to for those cold Minneapolis Summer nights.



The combination of the chunky baby alpaca yarn and the satin border are sure to create a sensory overload for that child--in a good way. Until I get out there to meet her in person, I hope this blanket will convey the hugs to come.


It went out in yesterday's mail, I & J. Sorry to ruin the surprise, but I just couldn't keep it in any longer.

Is it food or art?

As part of the week-long celebration known as Max's birthday, we had dinner at Benihana this week. What hibachi-style dinner show would be complete with out the Onion Volcano? Our chef took it one step further by topping the aforementioned Onion Volcano with an astounding second and third layer of oniony excitement:



For those of you who are new to the whole onion volcano concept: the onion volcano is constructed as shown above, and then oil--or maybe it's vinegar--is poured into the hole at the top and proceeds to sizzle rapidly on the hot hibachi surface, casing a stream of steam to rush forth from the mouth of the volcano. Awesome to the nth degree.

Awesome is a word that tossed around pretty liberally. Like in the case of this "awesome" decorative piece that Arthur brought into the office yesterday:



Dead alien babies are awesome.

There was this guy, see, and he lived in a bottle of Absolut Mandarin vodka

Just a glance into the "party now, ask questions later" lifestyle that I try to live.



I feel that the gold bra needs an explanation: the theme of the party was James Bond. The Bond movie "Die Another Day" contained a brilliant cameo by Madonna, who also wrote the theme song. Obviously, I'm dressed as Madonna. Early Madonna. Gold bra over 2 tank tops Madonna. Obviously.



By day, publishing professional. By night, Dutchess of Martini.

National Public Radio

It's pledge week on our local NPR station. You know, that 10-day "week" when we avoid listening to NPR lest they guilt us into actually giving them money. Pledge week, combined with the fact that my iPod and my car stereo are in a terrible fight right now and won't cooperate with one another has driven me to the 3 remaining radio stations in the Bay Area that don't suck eggs:

1) 99.7 KFRC is the best pledge week. I loves me the oldies. Plus, last week, I won tickets to see The Mambo Kings musical at Golden Gate Theater. Yep, I was on the radio!

2) KISS 98.1 plays today's hits and classic R&B. We're talking Stevie Wonder, Michael Jackson (before he was extra super creepy), and some good old classic Whitney Houston.

3) KMEL 106.1 is brand new territory for me. When I was in middle school, KMEL played modern rock, as in Tears for Fears and Pet Shop Boys. Today, however, KMEL plays today's bet hip hop and R&B. Apparently, the only thing that rhymes with "party" is "bacardi."

If you know Scott, you know I'm right

My friend Scott is a freakin' genius. Check out the funnest science-slash-art project ever:

"You might've noticed that I've gotten a little picture heavy. I've developed a new way to get pictures from my phone to my blog and I'm not afraid to use it.

So here's the deal, I'm opening up my cell phone's email address. If you email me with the words 'where's scott?' I'll take a picture right then and there and post it on my blog.

Some disclaimers:
If I'm busy or in private, you may not get a response. Also, you may not want to send anything between business hours PDT, I don't think my work desk is that interesting. Although, if you do and I'm not busy or in a meeting, I'll do my best to photo something from an interesting perspective. And before you ask, don't worry, I have a very good spam filter in place. I might limit it to only people I have in my contacts if it gets out of hand, but I don't think I know enough people who read my blog to worry about it.

It's an experimental art project! Help make it a success. Science!"

Huzzah, Science! Huzzah, Scott!

The Second Amendment, Observed

The weekend came. Birthdays were celebrated. Good times were had by all. In celebration of L's birthday, we had a day of Bond-skill training and general secret agenting. We started things off with a good old fashion trip to the shooting range. That's right, yours truly learned how to take control of the business end of a .22 mm semi-automatic pistol. Turns out I'm quite the shot! L. was great, don't get me wrong, but I just may have to join the secret service at some point.



After the gunpowder giddiness wore off, we went to the gokart arena to learn the second Bond skill of the day: race car driving. Also learned at the gokart arena was bond skill #3: blending into walls, as demonstrated by S:



A nice party where the guests all dressed as James Bond movie villains ended the day off with some real class. Pictures of the event in question will be posted in the next day or two, with identities changed to protect the innocent (of course--what kind of future secret service agent would I be if I didn't protect the innocent?).

Photo Friday: Green

It's not easy being green. Just ask E. All she wanted was nice, quiet sushi lunch. And she ended up with a faceful of flashing green lights.

Did you notice that I actually posted my Photo Friday picture on Friday? That's right. Check me, like, totally out.

Eat lead, Cobra!

This morning's topic of discussion at Planning Shop headquarters involved the question of the talking Barbie doll. Possibly the most frequently quoted celebrity around here, talking Barbie's cries of "Math is hard!" and "Shopping is fun!" can be heard echoing throughout the vast expanses of Planning Shop territory, usually when one of our more computer literate team members (Arthur) attempts to explain some sort of computer- or software-related function to one our less computer-literate team members (anyone besides Arthur).

I can't remember what prompted this morning's cry of "Math is hard" from the Northwest quadrant of the office, but that led to a discussion of whether an actual Barbie doll had at some point been manufactured to say these ridiculous (but true) things (Rhonda's position), of if these statements had actually been proclaimed by Malibu Stacy, the Barbie doll parody, in an episode of The Simpsons (my position--I was pretty sure that there had been a talking version of Malibu Stacy who said these things, prompting Lisa to protest the sexist doll and spawning the manufacture of Graduate Student Stacy. I was pretty dang sure.).

"I'm confident that you posses the skills to find these things out," commented Rhonda. And find them out I did.

Rhonda, you win. In 1992, Mattel gave us Teen Talk Barbie, who says--you guessed it--"math is hard," "shopping is fun," "meet me at the mall," "can we ever have enough clothes?" and "let's plan our dream wedding!" How did I miss this? I guess I was busy studying in my algebra class.

The best part though, is what the BLO (Barbie Liberation Organization) managed to do:

"Taking advantage of similarities in the voice hardware of Teen Talk Barbie and the Talking Duke G.I. Joe doll, er, 'action figure,' the BLO absconded with several hundred of each and performed a stereotype-change operation on the lot.

The surgery was no simple matter - circuit boards had to be trimmed, a capacitor moved, and a switch re-engineered. The press made it sound like an easy pop-and-switch operation, but this took some research and dedication.

The BLO returned the altered dolls to the toy store shelves, who then resold them to children who had to invent scenarios for Barbies who yelled 'Vengeance is mine!' and G.I. Joes who daydreamed 'Let's plan our dream wedding!'"

Vengeance is yours, Barbie. Vengeance is yours.

Photo Friday: Space

Once again, yes, I realize that today is Wednesday and not Friday. Please commence with the cutting of some slack.

By the way, that's a picture of that lunar eclipse from last winter.

A love-hate relationship with fangs

I live with two cats. I think a lot of people live in multi-cat households, and they already know where this is going. Multi-cat households experience one of two general atmospheres:

1. mutual affection between the cats, lots of running around and chasing and wrestling, very little blood.

2. two or more cats who are rarely, if ever, in the same room at the same time, lots of running around and chasing and wrestling, copious amounts of howling and blood ensue.

For the 7 years that I have lived with these two cats, our situation has been closer to atmosphere #2. But something happened about a year and a half ago, and both of these cats became much more tolerant of each other. Both seem content to sleep in the living room at the same time, and I've even seen them eating on the same table (food: the great unifier). Everyone who knows them agrees that they seem like different cats. Happier. More friendly.

But I never expected this.



Miru and Milhouse, just hanging out on the bed, not fighting. Not hissing. Not making awful kitty howling noises. And this went on for about 10 minutes--I did, eventually, get sick of sitting on the floor and not wanting to disturb such allied feline tendencies by actually getting into bed.

Ozzy's jealous ways solved that problem. He jumped up onto the bed, Milhouse promptly leaped out of the way, and Miru proceeded to deliver his patented "Cobra Bite" (tm) to Ozzy's face.



The cat won, Ozzy left, I took advantage of all of the space available in bed now that there was only one additional animal, and got in bed. Everybody wins! Sort of. I win, anyway.

Everyday is Blog Appreciation Day

I love my blog. I mean, I looooooooooove my blog. I love sharing pictures of my dogs wearing my knitted goods. I love sending shout-outs to those friends who have birthdays and those who have babies. I love giving readers the opportunity to hear the soundtrack of my life, because after all, I have impeccable taste in music. For instance, I spoke with a very nice professor from Boston University earlier this week, and have had Jonathan Richman in my head ever since. These are things worth sharing. Nay, these are things which must be shared, it is imperative, lest the brilliance that is my daily life go un-chronicled, un-read, un-clicked upon.

I like to spend about 15 minutes or so blogging after lunch. It's a great way to transition between food intake and productive output. A little concentrated, focused creativity, and I'm good to go. (Sometimes, I'll check my stats on sitemeter if I need a little ego stoking. Hey, even 6 page view sends me over the top, 'cause I know that my mom can't be responsible for more than 5 of them...)

So today, when Blogger was down for 45 minutes for scheduled maintenance this afternoon, I was sad. I may have even let out a barely audible whimper.

I never want my blog to become one of the many fantastic things in my life that I take for granted. I've already got too many of those, and decreasing that number is already pretty high up on my List.

So here's to you, blog of my heart. Blog of my job, blog of my life, blog of my mind and my spirit. Here's to you.

Le happiest place on earth

A few years back Max and I spent a week in Paris with my family, celebrating my Mom's birthday. There were museums, boat rides, strange and enchanting French bars, delightfully rich food with funny names, and plenty of sightseeing. On the day that my parents and my brother went to the Louvre, L and I chose instead to go to Euro Disney.

That's right. No Mona Lisa for us. Give me Donald Duck and Big Thunder Mountain!

I was a little nervous at the time that I would come to regret this decision. That someday, I would think to myself, "Why, oh why, did I pass up the opportunity to gaze upon so many world-renown pieces of art?! Why, oh why, did I spend the day running around in fake coon-skin cap, higher on sugar than I'd been in years?! Woe is me, for I've made a terrible mistake!"

Hasn't happened yet. As a matter of fact, there have been few decisions made in my life that I've been as comfortable with. Our day in Euro Disney shall live on as one of the best days ever. The train ride there and back, the relative solitude we experienced in the park (it was the middle of November, threatening rain, and fairly deserted), Max's alternating expressions of pure joy and nostalgia (his parents took his family there for vacation when he was a kid), and the way we fell happily asleep on the floor watching Raiders of the Lost Ark in my parents' rental apartment.

It doesn't get much better than that.

Busy Little Bees

Kronk! Whrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! Ping! Kronk! Whrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! Ping! That's the sound of The Planning Shop, grinding and cranking away as we prepare for Book Expo America, a mere two and a half weeks away (that's also the sound of my excuse for neglecting my blog this week).

It's a mad house here, I tell ya. Book covers, advance reading copies, mobile internet connections--it's a logistical nightmare! A totally do-able, completely under control logistical nightmare. Arthur keeps his cool in the midst of deadlines.



Manhattan, here we come!

A day of well-wishing and thinking good thoughts

A big, frothy cup of birthday wishes to my good friend and soon-to-be traveling partner, DRB (known in some circles as little db). There few people in this world that my dogs like better, and there are even fewer people in this world with whom I'd rather be stuck on a desert island.



This is a picture of DRB in her natural habitat. A hiker by day, and a camper by night, DRB took me on my first and only backpacking trip back in 2000, for which, someday, I will forgive her. Actually it was one of the better vacations of my adult life, despite the name of the location--Desolation Wilderness--complete with dogs, swimming, and large rocks. I've know DRB since my college days, and she will forever be my favorite tree-hugging dirt-worshipper. Plus, she has 4 cats: 2 twin girls, one
a former ninja and one with a taste for blood, a big fluffy boy who regularly hits on my boyfriend, and one rescued stray with a detatched retina (detatched retina = one rather noticeable bug eye, Don Knots style). And you just can't argue with that! To celebrate the anniversary of her birth, I will go see M. Ward tonight, who is also from Portland.

05.05.05

I missed Pie Day (3.14) back in March, and I've been making up for it ever since. Pecan Pie, Key Lime Pie, Rhubarb Pie... the intervention didn't help much either. Today is another numerical fun day, and will be celebrated thusly. In conjunction with Cinco de Mayo, I will celebrate 05.05.05 tonight by going out with 5 friends, drinking 5 Coronas, and eating five Taco Bel Grandes. Or maybe I'll stay home and watch El Mariachi again. Either way.

Of course, I could celebrate the fiveness of the day by sending this delightful example of human ingenuity to five people. Five people who would forever question my sanity and slowly let our relationship dwindle in oblivion. Can you blame them? Really?

I play Air hockey, Ball hockey, Barn Hockey, Bubble Hockey, Field hockey...

I know you're all just dying to hear about how the International Ice Hockey Federation's 2005 World Championship is going. Wait no longer! Read on, my hip-checking, chicken-dancing, dipsy-doodling brothers and sisters:

STATS AFTER DAY THREE

Points:
1. Michail Grabovsky (BLR) 5 points (4 goals/1 assist)
2. Rick Nash (CAN) 4 (3/1)
3. Daniel Alfredsson (SWE) 4 (2/2)
4. Niko Kapanen (FIN) and Konstantin Koltsov (BLR)4 (1/3) each
6. Marian Hossa (SVK) and Daniel Sedin (SWE) 3 (2/1) each
8. Joe Thornton (CAN) 3 (1/2)
9. Niklas Kronwall (SWE) 3 (0/3)
21 player with 2 pts

Goals:
1. Grabovsky 4
2. Nash 3
5 players with 2

Assists:
1. Kapanen and Kronwall 3 each
12 players with 2

Goalkeepers (SVS%):
1. Rick DiPietro (USA) 100.00%
2. Andrej Mezin (BLR) 97.53%
3. Witali Kolesnik (KAZ) 96.97%
4. Tomas Vokoun (CZE) 95.65%
5. Niklas Backstrom (FIN) 95.00%

Teams:

Scoring Percentage:
1. USA 17.50% of all shots are in
2. Latvia 16.00%
3. Canada 13.04%

Penalty Minutes:
1. Ukraine 36 PIM
2. Austria 30
3. Russia 28
4. Slovakia 20
5. Belarus 18

Ah, if only The Planning Shop had offices in Innsbruck.

The next step is to start performing my special "Collective-Bargaining-Agreement-Reached-by-the-start-of-the-2005-2006-NHL-Hockey-Season" dance at closer intervals. Apparently, 4 times a day isn't enough.

Mouse-sized people leads to people-sized mice

Arthur commented this morning that if he had a blog, this is something he'd blog about:

"Adult stem cell researcher Irving Weissman, M.D. of the Stanford School of Medicine wants to develop mice that have a lot of human neurons in their brains.

So Stanford asked where it should draw the line. It is the first university in the nation to tackle the philosophical question: When does a chimera stop being an animal and start becoming a person, suggesting that research should end? The report foreshadows the release of guidelines on stem-cell research, including chimeras, by the National Academy of Sciences this spring.

'We concluded that if we see any signs of human brain structures . . . Or if the mouse shows human-like behaviors, like improved memory or problem-solving, it's time to stop,' said law and genetics Professor Henry T. Greely, director of the Center for Law and the Biosciences and leader of the committee."

Arthur began to marvel at the science, the ethical dilemma, the sci-fi-esque-ness of it all, the very idea that Stanford Ph.D's were considering the possibility that these scientists could develop mice with people brains prompted the blog comment. All I had to hear was "mice with people brains," and I knew what was going on. I saw the writing on the wall. I've seen Pinky & Brain enough times to know that smart rodents are dangerous (yet doomed to fail time and time again due to hilarious circumstances). I vowed never to view my friend's hamster the same way again.

Equally as disturbing as the thought of tiny mouse-sized geniuses taking over the world was the concept of " if the mouse shows human-like behaviors." Like asking for a doughnut. Or voting for an idiot. Twice. Or TiVo-ing the Spanish version of Deadwood on accident because it pressed the button for HBO-L (Latino) instead of HBO-1. You know, human-like behaviors.

Photo Friday: Fancy

The rotunda at City Hall in San Francisco + a feather boa = fancy.

The Big One-Seven-Five

Happy birthday, Adolph Sutro! Engineering mastermind, savvy businessman, once-Mayor of San Francisco, builder of the Cliff House and the Sutro Baths, and planter of the Sutro Forest on top of Mount Sutro. This is where the Sutro Tower was built in 1971-72 (named for the location, not the man) and where it still stands, stoically watching over me and protecting my puppies as they run and play in Duboce Park. I'm a big fan of the tower. I love living near enough to it so that I can see it everyday--but far enough away so that I can avoid all that electromagnetic radiation.

The Sutro Tower is 977 feet tall, and weighs about 3.7 million pounds. It stands in the exact center of San Francisco, and I think that the city's landscape is incomplete without it. So many photographers focus on the Golden Gate Bridge (love it), the skyline of the downtown financial district (love it), the Coit Tower (love it), the TransAmerican--or, "Pyramid"--Building (love it), even the Bay Bridge (love it, except when I'm stuck on it).



But I love how all of these glorious and beautiful landmarks are all crowded around the mouth of the bay and the Embarcadero and the Presidio, all packed into this relatively tiny space (not unlike the Victorians throughout the city), and the Sutro Tower stands proudly above them and west up Market Street, balancing out the conglomeration of concrete and steel beauties. The visual is astounding. And once the fog gets involved, it's all I can do not to cry.

Sometimes I never want to leave this city.

*sigh*

The Great White North comes to Palo Alto

It's raining again, and the commute was hellish. But I had beautiful music to get me through it, so I don't feel the need to fill my blog with traffic and weather complaints. Consider yourselves lucky (she said to all 3 readers.).

If I were the kind of person who gave shout-outs, I would give one to I & J who have a special new friend in their lives. They are going to make terrific parents.

Later this afternoon, The Planning Shop is going to get a visit from one our favorite people: Wade Davies. Wade is the guy who prints our books. He doesn't print them personally, but he manages all the stuff between us sending him an electronic file and him sending us physical books. And he's plays hockey! And he's Canadian. One of the first interactions I ever had with Wade was back in 1999. It was the week before Thanksgiving, and a fax came in with a cartoon drawing a hitch-hiking turkey and an American flag. The caption read, "Don't let your turkey get away! Happy Thanksgiving!" it wasn't that it was specifically Canadian in origin, or even non-American, but something about it was so sincere and sweet. It was discovered years later that it had come from a book of fax templates specifically designed for Canadians to send to their American clients...I still have that fax.

Yet Another Paris Hilton Post

OK, so having TiVo means a couple of things:

1) I have never been happier in my entire life.

2) It might be a week or two after a show airs that I actually blog about it.

With point #2 in mind, last week's episode of The Simple Life was so enlightening! Paris and Nicole had an internship at this ultra-hip ad agency, and they were assigned to the new Burger King campaign for the Enormous breakfast sandwich. Hilarity ensued. A subplot of the episode involved the girls' host family--a mother and son team who act as care takers of 2 twin baby orangutans.

!!!!!!!

Watching Paris Hilton interact with baby orangutans was brilliant television. This girl had found her place. As soon as she saw them Paris squealed with delight and commenced with the cuddling. She laughed heartily when the organgutans pulled on her hair and clothes, and yanked her skirt up to reveal her turquoise undergarments (not the same way she laughs when she yanks up her own skirt in clubs and such--this time, it was endearing.). I think Paris should take her millions of dollars and invest in an orangutan habitat. And then film a reality show about it. I'd TiVo that.

Scarf #3

Things change. As far as I can tell, this is the only constant in life.

Maybe the San Francisco Giants and SBC Park have been hit pretty hard by the economy. Maybe they wanted to make a point about classism. For whatever reason, they are now insisting that you remove your own damn center from the ass gaskets. This applies to all restrooms in the stadium, including the Club Level. I did some heavy reconnaissance work to come to this conclusion. Beers were consumed. Bladders were emptied.

Despite the extra bathroom responsibility forced upon me, I had a terrific time at the game. The garlic fries were tasty. And during the 3rd, 4th, 7th, 8th and 9th innings, I managed to finish knitting scarf #3:



Scarf #3 modeled by yours truly:



It's a lot less chartreuse and more grass green than it looks. And it's the first of many skinny spring scarves to come, in a variety of spring-like colors. Pink. Turquoise. Melon. SPRING. Not winter. Spring.

Why yes, I am better than most people.

Tonight I'm going to the Giants game at SBC Park (read: going out for garlic fries) with my dad. SBC Park really is a beautiful stadium, very olde tyme and retro. It's also one of the few places that really makes you feel special if you're a premium ticket holder.

Most places charge you an extra 20 bucks per ticket for what amounts to nothing but a better, closer view of the team/band/show. You still have to wait in line, you still have to circle around on the endless parking search. When we saw Mates of State at Slim's, we bought premium tickets, which included dinner, only because those were the only tickets left. Slim's did a great job at making us feel, well, premium. Even our seats were elevated above all of the regular, common folk, the general admission ticket holders. Because we were better than, and our tickets proved it.

SBC Park shows its reverence for its premium ticket holders by providing some basic necessities, but with a little more oomph. The food in the Club Level, as it's called, is all around better (the garlic fires are available to all ticket holders, don't worry). You can actually find a salad there, which is a pleasant escape from the delicious but oh-so-greasy hot dogs found in the "regular" section of the park. There are 2 full bars--because I don't know about you, but by the bottom of the 5th inning, I could kill for a gin and tonic. Plus, the Club Level provides a glass window-enclosed viewing area for when the fog rolls in and the wind picks up and it gets really cold. (Anyone who's spent a summer evening in San Francisco knows what I'm talking about. For those of you who haven't experienced the anomaly of weather that is San Francisco, it's almost May and I'm knitting a scarf. For immediate usage.)

But here's the real kicker, that extra mile that the Giants go in order to make its premium ticket holders feel the love: the center portions of the toilet seat covers are pre-separated. That is to say, instead of punching out the center portion along the perforations, like you would in any other public restroom, simply pull up, then pull down, and place on toilet seat. SBC Park and your San Francisco Giants have done the rest. But only for our premium Club Level ticket holders. Everyone else has to remove the center of their own ass gaskets.

Unless you know how to sneak into the Club Level.

Two great tastes that taste great together

The following list is comprised of pairs of things that go together very well indeed. Why, you ask? Why not?

Magnum, P.I. and Tropicana pizza
(that's pizza with curry, bananas, ham, and mushrooms):
This combination is best experience when laying on a mattress on the floor of your--or a friend's--dorm room, watching re-runs of Magnum--with Swedish subtitles if at all possible--and sharing the above mentioned Swedish junk food delicacy. (I'm not kidding, There are dozens of weird Swedish pizza toppings and combinations, including, but not limited to, fried eggs and prawns. There's an interesting blog post about it here and here.)

Chocolate and Cheese:
Acceptable variations include:
1. Hostess cupcakes and EZ Cheese
2. Convenience store brownies and the spready cheese from Handi-Snacks cheese n' crackers
3. Ritz Bitz cheese sandwich crackers and chocolate frosting from a can

Knitting and Network Crime Dramas:
If you're not a knitter, you may substitute needle point, crosstitch, pant-leg-hemming, crocheting, or any other form of hand-help fiber arts. Recommended combinations:
1. Law & Order: Criminal Intent & a ribbed, grass green scarf
2. CSI Miami & and a turquoise remote control cozy
3. Las Vegas (well I think it's a crime drama) and a tangerine faux-letterman dog sweater

Marc Summers and Gary Sinise:
'Cause I said so.

Photo Friday: Soft

This little house lion may be just about the softest thing ever. Of course, referring to Miru as "little" is done only in comparison to a regular-sized lion. Ain't nothing little about him.

Baby Talk

One of my favorite people in the world is pregnant. In fact, she's very pregnant. Like, 4 days past her due date, camping outside the hospital and ready to pay someone to induce labor pregnant. Her husband is another one of my favorite people in the world. They are going to make the most kick-ass set of parents any little kid could hope for. Last September when they told me that they were pregnant (joyful squeal!) and moving to Minneapolis (depressed sob!), the baby was approximately the size of J.'s fist. Of her fist. The baby is now the size of some thing much larger than a fist, the size of something that makes the woman carrying it in her body determined to destroy all cameras in a 3 mile radius. Godspeed, little Baby Redman. Please hurry and relieve your mommy--I know she'd appreciate it.

So I've already got baby on the brain. One of the best bloggers around writes wonderful anecdotes about his kids (as a good daddy should). Another one of my favorite bloggers wrote about her very pregnant friend today. All of these baby-doin's a-transpirin' make me look around at my two 65 pound dogs and my two 14-pound cats and think, "Thank god they don't wear diapers."

This is the funniest thing I've ever seen in my life.

Ever. I swear.

I have been known, at times, to exaggerate. This is not one of those times.



Do I look like I'm kidding?

Tomorrow night I'm going to try my darndest to meet my friend S. at The Rite Spot to see The Frisky Frolics. If you like ukuleles, tin pan alley music, festive headwear, or any combination of the three, then you would also enjoy The Frisky Frolics. And seriously now, who doesn't enjoy a good ukulele-driven bar act?

The Spring, she has sprung, yes?

If you had any doubt, here's proof that it is absolutely, totally Springtime:

It's not that Ozzy only rolls in the grass when it's Springtime, but the dreary Winter months don't compel him to roll with such voracity, with such gusto. Speaking of gusto...

If ever a dog had a sole purpose in life, Nanna was put on this earth to fetch tennis balls (and sticks, and anything else even remotely spherical or made of wood). Some of you gentle readers have even seen Nanna throw herself off of small cliffs in pursuit of limbs, logs and sticks in general. And Springtime, especially post-daylight savings Springtime, means longer hours and more sunlight in which to fetch.

The joyous arrival of Spring, and the fact that it doesn't seem to be going anywhere anytime soon, is not limited to parks and grass and dogs, oh no. The barren skeletons of the ivy that covers The Planning Shop's hallowed walls also revel in this glorious season.



I trust you'll believe me when I tell you that I am wearing all pink today.

Photo Friday: Rest

Yes, I know it's Monday. Thanks.

Max and the Oz were couch bound for the evening. This was in the old apartment, (dang, I miss that red wall) after a long day of driving around with the convertible top down. It's tough being a dog. It's even tougher being a 65 pound lap dog (tough on the lap, that is.).

Suggested caption: "Does my dog's butt look big in this picture?"

Play Ball?

Anyone who reads Rhonda's weekly column (I know you all read Rhonda's weekly column) knows that baseball season has begun. I am not a baseball fan. More than that, I am a hockey fan. I like my spectator sports violent, emotional, full of vendettas, extremely fast-paced, and preferably on ice. I love it when a game comes down to an incredible goalie, a huge defenseman, and couple of crazy-fast forwards with a 2-on-1. I love the home team broadcasters with mandatory Canadian accents. I love Dippin' Dots (it's the ice cream of the future--right now!), power plays, and sudden death over time.

But something strange happened today. Maybe it was the smell of fresh cut grass at the park across the street. Or the sunshine that felt so warm on my shoulders. Heck, maybe was watching that Yankees outfielder almost beat the crap out of the Boston fan on TV last night (yeah, it was probably that). But something made me say to myself, "Gee, I'd sure like to go to a ball game soon. I could really go for some garlic fries."

(Of course I realize that this wouldn't have happened if there had been a hockey game to watch at any point in the last year and a half, or if there were any hope of watching a hockey game in the next year and a half. Of course I realize that the void hockey has left in my life, my heart, and my TV viewing schedule cannot be filled by laundry, Hebrew lessons and heavy snacking alone. And no, of course baseball will never fill that void...but it wouldn't hurt to let it sublease the void for a bit.)

Do you have a businesswoman's special?

I'm an important person. I'm a busy professional with an active social life and many obligations, philanthropic and otherwise. I hardly have time to get my powersuit pressed, let alone read a book. Thank goodness for Book-A-Minute! Why, just this morning I read Don Quixote:

Don Quixote: Chivalry demands I destroy that evil thing.

Sancho Panza: No, master. It is something ordinary and harmless.

Don Quixote: (falls down)

THE END

Ah, good times.

Of course, I'm also far too busy to fiddle with things like focus, aperture or light settings when taking photographs along Market Street. Thank heavens for the Holga AFX automatic everything camera!


I demand satisfaction!

Holgariffic

Mmmmmm, art without trying.



Happy birthday, Thomas Jefferson! The big two-six-two. I was going to get you a birthday present, but I couldn't find any liberty or death.

If you want to see an amazing music video, check out Dealership's "All the Kids" video. Great song, great concept, great execution. For another taste of what these kids can do, listen to this melodic gem. Anyone in the San Francisco area who's interested in a little poppy goodness can see them next Tuesday at 12 Galaxies.

Squirrel, must get squirrel...

My dog talks in his sleep. This is nothing new. He has always barked and chased things in his sleep, the consequences of this action are two equally amusing results: the sleep-barking creates this wonderfully muffled "wurf" sound, almost exactly like the sound made by the cartoon dog in an old animated Amazing Stories episode (the episode was called "The Family Dog." At one point, the dog eats too much of the dish at which the family turned up its collective nose--"Tater puffs and cheese whip. Enjoy!"--and can barely move, let alone bark, at the burglars who break in while the family is out getting pizza. "Bur wur wurf!"). The sleep-chasing causes Ozzy's toes to move independently of one another, which is really quite a sight. It's as if he's running on his tippy toes.

Lately, there's a new aspect to Ozzy's sleepy time adventures: sleep-wagging. As he happily chases and barks through his doggie dreams, his tail thumps loudly against the carpet, but without its normal rhythmic quality. Just one or 2 thumps, then the precious "wurf"-ing, then another thump. It's all I can do not to bust out laughing.

I hope he caught whatever it was he was chasing.