Update on hotel beds

"Two pillow types are provided for your comfort.
Choose from down & feather in the front
and a down alternative in the back"

This is the 3rd hotel with this conformation. Four pillows, 2 front, and 2 back. All white. These are not decorative pillows.
4 white pillows and a card laying there waiting for our trembling fingers to pick it up, read it and faint with delight.
Merv was the one who noticed. "Look at these pillows. They're all different".
It must cost these hotels a lot to keep making these changes to their rooms.
The feather pillows are small and huggable. I'm sure that people will like them the best. They should have used the cards for votes! But 4 pillows are great for me. I love a lot of pillows and have them thrown up and down and round about my bed as the night progresses.
Another change. Bed size. The "double" is back! Instead of 2 queen sized beds - 2 double sized beds! It's great - plenty of sleeping room, but more space. And a whole pile full of double sized bedding!

Big Brother

I suppose all email programs are different.
On my email program, I've started to notice that the content of the emails I get is reflected in the rest of the page.
This morning I got a letter from a friend about her health.
On the edges of the screen were all these links to health problems.

Tinnitus Symptoms?
Latest Products that will Give you Back Your Life. Buy Now Online!
www.biogetica.com
Headache Symptom
Learn About Headache Symptom Advice Headache Symptom
AllergySupply.com/Headache-Symptom
More about...
Taste Buds »
Im Tired »
Tired Eyes »

I had this strange feeling that someone was looking over my shoulder as I read my friend's letter.
"Oh yah, that's so irritating - I hate it when that happens. You could try some of these products."
Everyone seems to be so concerned with their privacy on the internet. I've never seen any comments about this.

Garbage

Great name. It's not really an 'incinerator'. More like a 'garberator'.
This new place we bought has one. In the sink.
You put garbage down the hole in the sink. The switch is under the sink. With the tap turned on and a pretty big noise, these little blades go round and round and chew up the garbage and send it down some hole to oblivion. One blade goes around one way and the other blade goes round the opposite way.
But whatever way they go - there is very little garbage remaining.
Its favorite garbage is veggie and fruit garbage. A visit to the website says "Ham bones!?" "Drumsticks"!? "Pork bones"!? I haven't gone there yet, and don't think I will. The website has pics of carrots, pasta, celery, potato peels, drumsticks.
I love this thing.
Peel and chop and throw the rest in the sink. Push it down. Wash it down.
One day I went down the hole. Yep. Put on my plastic glove and felt around down there. Found a few "leftovers" - and from then on I clean it regularly this way. Nothing is left in the grinding chamber.
We eat a lot of onions. Peel a big onion. I'm wasteful and I throw out a good-sized outer ring. After grinding, here's what I found. The thin brownish papery outer part? Untouched! the blades don't touch it! Although damp of course, it's uncut and all there. Too delicate.
But this baby can chop up a pile of stuff in seconds. In most cases, leaving nothing.
It's my favorite toy.

Gauntlet Poem

My friend threw down the gauntlet. We decided to take snippets from a few of our blogs, and see how they might come together - story line be damned. I posted 12 blogs in June. These are the bits from those blogs.
My university grandson did a lot better job with his, but he's young, and I think the young have a better feel for this kind of "laissez-faire" writing. It was fun.

Here I am in this empty house, staring at the damp cloth in my hand
Sunlight streaming in.

"I forget what we meant to do with them, it was so long ago."
Shrugging it off - indifferent.

But little by little and bit by bit - we weighed each item's value
and filled the boxes.

tumbling over each other's sentences whatever the discussion
Satan and God and Jesus and Adam and Eve.

"It's all about attitude. Not facts.
It's all about how you react to the facts."

She thought about this old house and the building of it.
The contractor had to be home for his wedding.

He always parked his truck leaning sidewise just off the highway.
Betraying his way of thinking.

And then he died. In her arms, after breakfast one day.

Diagnosis

Diagnosis
by Sharon Olds

By the time I was six months old, she knew something
was wrong with me. I got looks on my face
she had not seen on any child
in the family, or the extended family,
or the neighborhood. My mother took me in
to the pediatrician with the kind hands,
a doctor with a name like a suit size for a wheel:
Hub Long. My mom did not tell him
what she thought in truth, that I was Possessed.
It was just these strange looks on my face—
he held me, and conversed with me,
chatting as one does with a baby, and my mother
said, She’s doing it now! Look!
She’s doing it now! and the doctor said,
What your daughter has
is called a sense
of humor. Ohhh, she said, and took me
back to the house where that sense would be tested
and found to be incurable.

Sharon Olds teaches creative writing at New York University and lives in an apartment on the Upper West Side, where she sits in a rocking chair with a view of the Hudson River and writes poems. She begins writing, she says, when "a poem has formed itself, or its beginning, within me, and it's time to get a pen and notebook and sit over there on the rocking chair next to the window and try to bring forth that which is within."

Blogging

The most difficult thing about a blog is doing it.
Ask any blogger. "I can't think of anything to say".
It's true. Especially if you live a boring life.
I have a friend who's very busy. She's writing a novel. She does good works and volunteers in her community. She looks after her mother. In fact, she just cleaned out her Mom's old apartment, sold it, and moved her Mom into a new apartment! She looks after a big yard and house. She's famous for her cooking. She paints. She's a dynamo.
She blogs. Quickly. Give this girl one word, and she can write a complete essay in 20 minutes.
But for the rest of us - "let's see - what has excited me about life recently." We go from there.
If you read "How To"s about blogging they encourage us to do it. Just do it. Do it often. Don't angst about it. Sit down and write a sentence. Then another one. Then another one. Don't fool around with it a lot. Click "Publish" and then repeat the next day.
If it's a bit rugged, no matter, it's a learning process.
Those of us who love to write use it in lots of different ways. It can be a good "listener". Something on your mind? Something bothering you - nagging at you? Write it down. Pretend you're talking to a friend. Pour out your soul. You'd be surprised at how it cleans out the corners of your mind.
I get a daily Almanac about writers. What they wrote. How they wrote it. When they got it published and what happened after. I start every day with this Almanac. It has given me a great respect for people who write.

Buddhists

I was talking to a friend about that famous book "The Power of Now". My friend said that the basis of Erik Tolle's philosopy is Buddhist. I wondered. This afternoon I read a long complicated article about it and was fascinated. Then I found an 81 minute video article on my "Speaking of Faith" web site - Matthieu Ricard was the guy being interviewed - very likeable and clever. I think a lot of physicists become Buddhists, because the philosophy seems to involve physics - stuff like the universe, and quarks, and grains of sand and everything in life interconnecting. He looks like the Dali Lama, and has been called the "happiest man in the world". He is embarrassed by this label and says it's completely unscientific and no one should pay any attention. But it has something to do with the amount of time he has spent meditating - something like 10,000 hours. He's involved with a society that is studying meditation and the brain to see if the first is making any difference to the second. He is one of the guinea pigs. So the engineers said to him "How long before you are really meditating?" They were trying to figure out how much time would be involved in getting their stats. "Mmmm. Maybe 30 seconds. In deep by 1 minute tops". I was stunned to hear him say that. My problem with meditating is trying to get the brain to stop thinking. Your brain wants to think. All the time. Except when sleeping. So most of my time seems to be spent saying to my brain "are you back thinking again? You are not supposed to think. So. Let's start again and for heaven's sake - pay attention!"
The Dali Lama seems like a happy guy. And Mr. Ricard and the Dali Lama apparently spend a lot of time together. He tells the story about a muddy road with bricks placed to walk over it. How people whined and wailed about it. "We burst out laughing - then managed to hip hop over it in great delight. We travel a lot, and it's just part of the day".
I just Googled Matthieu. He's all over the place!

Media babies

A nephew and his wife have their first baby.
Within 24 hours of the birth we receive a clear, close-up piece of video showing this wee babe in his crib. He opens his eyes and blinks the odd time. He stretches his little arms and legs. He sneezes. We gather round the computer and watch every second with much oh-ing and ah-ing. He's small, born early, and with issues. So it's been exciting to see this little guy that we've been cheering on for so many months. The next day we watch again on our computers as the Mom gets to hold and snuggle her wee baby for the first time!

Another family member had a first baby this summer. Once again, we see pictures of Mom, Dad and babe within hours of the birth. On FaceBook, we have seen countless little pieces of video as this baby girl has grown. In fact the little baby has already signed up with Facebook!

I talked with a friend just the other day. "You wouldn't believe it - we see her learning to sit, learning to make noises, even her first giggle. Yes, there are many pictures, too, but when it's a baby, it's very special when the pictures come to life. Sound is a much more important element than most folks know." This little girl has seen a camera so many times, she will never think it the least bit intrusive or threatening. And what a thrill for relatives and friends who may live far away. With just a click, they get to watch intimate little slices of life of their loved one - and they can watch over and over again.

I wonder. I wonder if being a media baby will make these kids different. I wonder if being photographed and told to "look up" and "turn around" and "walk over there" will make these kids more confident. Will they grow up being able to look down the barrel of a camera without a flinch. Are we raising future actors, anchor men, film stars, models, movie producers? It's powerful stuff. The image. The voice. The movement. This is not museum stuff. This is life in full color and sound. Life as it's going by. In fact, yesterday's footage is already history, and the audience is waiting for the next update.

Web sites like Facebook are called social networking sites. A good name. Because that's what they do. It's like the town square of another time. Folks gather together to chat and visit - get caught up on the latest gossip and comings and goings of their communities. Families get to see pictures of their loved ones, a baby taking it's first step, a new sofa, a trip to a far away place - it's all there. We know a lot more about each other than we used to. In most cases, it's good. Just friends and family staying in touch.

And you know what? I'm going to keep track of those media babies - you never know.

Hats

I've been thinking about hats lately. Caps would be a better word.
Hats mean dressing up. And who dresses up any more! Except for Queen Elizabeth. At one point, I couldn't believe that any person on the planet could come out in public with a hat like this.
But what the heck - her public expects it.


Enter Camilla Parker Bowles. This lady doesn't have to take a back seat to the Queen!


Milliners (is that what they call people who design hats?) must make big money in Britain. Who the heck are they? How come we don't know? Princess Diana certainly ignored hats. Mind you, she was drop dead gorgeous.
(whoops - poor choice of words)

The Aritha Franklins of the world can wear the most outrageous hats with complete aplomb. Mind you, if you can sing like her, you can pretty well do what you want.


Right now I have about 10 ball caps. Not enough. I went through a phase of putting socks in my ball caps - to fill up the empty spaces. But one day the wind blew the cap and a pair of socks all over the 6th green - way too embarrassing. I also have 2 of those new "military" looking caps, one of which I wear quite a lot. Not necessarily on the golf course, either. Military type caps look like this - mine is a "Puma" in dark brown.

I've been looking at another hat style. Hmmmm. It's not that I don't have the nerve - anyone who puts socks in her golf cap.
I wonder if I could pull it off.


Now then - does anyone know where I can get a pair of those sun glasses?

golf

What is it about the game of golf
The passion the "hold" it takes on you
I wish I could fashion more graciously more amenable
to the space in my head that I've assigned it to.
When nothing goes right I blame my partner
my bad back, my menopause, my putter
I furtively look over my shoulder to make sure
the party behind us is ignoring what's ahead
Not saying to each other - look at that! she hasn't hit a good one yet
She needs to get a grip on this game or quit it;

Shorten your back swing I tell myself
Don't try to hit the ball so hard
Keep your head down Keep your head down
You might as well give up if you can't keep your head down
It's all about the golf gods we laugh with the others
It's all about the golf gods as they strike you down for
making that perfect shot. They allow perfect rarely
as if they weren't paying attention
So that you think they've gone for lunch
And your ball sails right into a huge sand trap.

Baseball

I love the World Series.
It goes back a long time. When we little girls, in small town Saskatchewan, the World Series was big stuff.
Back then, they were often on Labor Day weekend. And this was the weekend for cleaning windows at our house.
With the radio blaring as loud as it would go, everyone both inside and outside cleaned windows and listened to the World Series. By game 2, we had all the names down pat. And we knew who we were cheering for.
Mel Allen was the play by play guy. He knew everything, and we would have trusted him with our lives. Friendly and confident, his big voice "welcome to the World Series" sent shivers down our spines. As things heated up, we'd scream with delight or moan with frustration, but at every moment we were having the time of our lives.
I remember listening to the World Series in school one year! In the classroom!
Tonight, I'm still having the time of my life. Big HDTV. Surround sound. A Mel Allen sound-alike.
A baseball going 95 miles per hour. On the re-play, I see the label on the ball turning and turning as it slowly enters the glove of the catcher. For the first time I'm seeing the different ways that a pitcher can manipulate a ball. It's fascinating.
Thousands of people booing or cheering - a sea of sound - a baseball game sound.
"There's not a shorter leash in baseball than he's got him on right now" An on-air comment by the color guy. Great command of the English language. Great theatre, Great athletics.
What could be more "American" than the World Series of baseball.