The Pizza Alarms

The smoke detectors in our house are kind of getting to be the bane of our existence.

There is one right around the corner from the stove and any little thing makes it go off. Browning chops, a big spill on the stove top. Even cleaning the oven.

And they are hard to get off. Once the first one detects smoke, all of them start in. That's 10 detectors going.

We used to be able to get them to shut off by waving a towel under the kitchen one and maybe opening a couple of windows. But now that doesn't seem to have much effect most of the time. I've had them going for up to 40 minutes.

And I cook to relax.

Now this morning at 5:45 a.m. the one in the office here is chirping. We change the batteries (they are hard-wired but have battery backups) twice a year, but we still end up with detectors chirping for low battery power. The sound echoes in the house so a lot of times you really have to work hard to figure out which one it is. One night we chased around in the middle of the night for some time looking for the chirper, only to discover it was a CO detector.

I can see why people disconnect them. It's a dumb thing to do but you are tortured less that way.

His Scary Sponsor

I mighta accidentally scared a typing student today.

Sort of on accident. I actually wanted to shake him up a bit.

Our middle school typing classes are doing a "Type for Life" service learning project. They set goals for increasing their words-per-minute scores by March 30. They gathered pledges for the American Cancer Society.

I wanted to sponsor my best friend's daughter, but she never asked me and today I found out she's already made her goal anyway.

So I was at the typing class this morning, listening to a breast cancer survivor tell the kids about her battle and about cancer in general and about the American Cancer Survivor. (I'm writing a story about their project)

At the end of the class, the speaker brought out purple rubber "4 the fight" bracelets. She asked who had made their goal. Gave them bracelets. Then she asked who had sponsors and were working toward their goals. Gave those kids bracelets.

A kid named Tyler was just sitting there. Tall, sharp-looking guy.

She asked him if he had even one sponsor. "No ma'am," he said.
"But you have a goal, right?" she asked.
"Yes ma'am," he answered.

She gave him a bracelet.

I passed a note over to him. "I'll sponsor you for $20 if you make your goal." And I signed my name and put my email address on there.

After class he thanked me. I told him he'd better reach his goal or I'd dog him til he was dead.

"Yes ma'am," he said.

I saw him a few minutes later and he said "Y' know, I made my goal, but the teacher raised it on me."

"Well, good! Because I don't want to sponsor some slacker who sets their goals too low," I replied.

"No ma'am."

I could be the scariest sponsor for a charity he's ever had.

Fiesta!

fiesta
Originally uploaded by Food Fanatic.

This is why I like to have Mensa Boy label boxes for me.

On Saturday my parents arrived and brought with them the two new placesettings I'd bought on my fiesta-buying junket to RedWing in February.

The addition of the new place settings necessitated the removal of two other settings.

It was not a hard choice to make. I'd moved the apricot and white dishes to the bottom of the stacks and told the kids that, when they set the table, I expect my place to NOT have the apricot. It just looked...vomitous.

29707!

Voting for the Worst

Mensa Boy reminded me last night that there is a conspiracy underfoot with American Idol:

Vote for the Worst

I don't know if they really work, but SOMETHING is keeping Sanjaya "milquetoast" Malakar alive on American Idol.

My Preciousssssss

The story has to be what? Maybe 350 words? About a missing cat.

Yep. Page 3A of The Lancaster News has a story about a missing cat.

It "showed up missing," a phrase that never ceases to crack me up. Do I need to explain why?

I feel badly for the 90-year-old woman whose cat is missing, but I'm pretty skeptical that someone would enter the home and carry her away, as the owner asserts. "I think somebody opened the door, came in, put her in their jacket and walked away with her."

Huh.

There's no mention that the owner is missing anything else. No TVs, jewelry, crocheted toilet paper covers....just an orange tabby cat.

In other local news, I hear there is a group that wants to pay to paint the new Indian Land water tower. The water tower, which was a subject of much controversy when our school board decided to sell an acre of land right besmack in front of the main entrance to the school, will be set right on the corner of Doby Bridge and Highway 521. This group from Lancaster would like to offer to beautify the tower by paying to have it painted.

What would they paint on it, you ask?

Something to point visitors to Lancaster, of course. Something to encourage them to drive 20 miles south to shop at Wal-Mart and Eckerds in Lancaster rather than 7 miles north to Carolina Place Mall, Target, Barnes & Noble, Harris Teeter...I could go on.

But my readers are not stooopid...

Rob & Amber

Well well well well well! "Rob and Amber, I'm sorry to tell you, you have been eliminated from the race."

The magic words were finally said to the couple we loved to hate.

Actually, if Rob weren't such a trash-talker, we probably wouldn't have hated them so much. They are actually a pretty nice couple. And poetry in motion when going through all the hurdles "Amazing Race" could throw at them.

Until "THE SPELLING ERROR."

To me it just proves that having good spelling habits is an important life skill.

At the end, Amber said "Well, if you're going to be eliminated, what better place than the end of the world?" (or something like that)

Would have been even funnier if she'd said "Well, it's not the end of the world. Oh. Wait. It is!"
(They ended at Isla Redonda, A.K.A. The End of the World, as it's on the southernmost tip of South America)

It's good that they are gone. Now the show can be more about the race and less about them. They pretty much overshadowed all the other competitors.

Is America Just Stupid When It Comes to Music?

I just watched the results show from this week's "American Idol" and I all I can say is:

"America? What were you thinkin'?"

To keep Sanjaya and kick Sundance? And to keep Haley and bump Sabrina? What? Are all the text messengers on drugs? That was just simply insane!

I have to say I think Sundance made a terrible song choice last week, going to rock with his song by Pearl Jam. I think he's more a Sammy Kershaw kind of guy. He could have done "Tennessee Girl" or one of his older ones. Didn't they say near the beginning that Sundance's dad was a country dude? He completely stole the show last week with "Mustang Sally."

Sanjaya is sooooo boring that we have fast-forwarded past him every week. And Haley? Isn't she the one that Simon said he couldn't even remember her name? The only one that came close to being as dull as she was Antonella. At least America got that one right.

Although I think it was a travesty to choose Sabrina over Haley, I don't see Sabrina going too much further. She's just not that great.

But definitely better than Haley.

I'm delighted for Gina Glocksen. I had her pegged for a rocker the moment I first saw her. My suspicions were confirmed when the took the stage by storm last week.

I do love this show. I'll admit. But it's also frustrating as all get out. And it makes me worried for some of the truly great singers. They tend to get kicked before the very end.

A Respecter of Plungers

It began as an innocent conversation on the phone with my friend Sarah. We each were enumerating the errands we planned to run yesterday afternoon.

"Target," I said. "I have to go to Target. Prescriptions filled, Kleenex to buy..."

"Oh, Target!" she said. "I have to get there and buy a plunger."

"Well, you said you were just passing Home Depot. Why didn't you just stop in there?" I asked innocently.

"Because there is a certain plunger at Target that I want," she replied. And proceeded to describe it for me.

I began to laugh. Kind of snort, actually, I admit.

She paused.

"Most people do not have preferences when it comes to plungers," I ventured.

She exploded. "Oh. My. G*d! How could you not have a plunger preference?"

The Human Alphabet

This morning I got up and googled "human alphabet." I'm looking for letters that have been shaped by people. I'm not necessarily looking for real people. What I have in my mind's eye are drawings.

Colorful drawings of the alphabet where the letters are people.

I want to print out two particular letters to give to a friend of mine. I thought it would be cool.

I stumbled upon a wealth of information about people and alphabets. None of the sites I visited were what I was looking for, but one was a very interesting website about the history of artists using the human body to make letters of the alphabet. This particular site had naked people making the alphabet.

It was an interesting and...informative...way to start the day.

I'm still looking for an alphabet comprised of people.

Free, of course.

Self-taught Camera Games

Taylor
Originally uploaded by Food Fanatic.

This weekend I played with my new camera, a Nikon D40. My beloved Fuji FinePix quit a couple of weeks ago. Well, it didn't exactly QUIT...it developed (sorry...no pun intended) a tendency to not open its' lens all the way. This made my photos very short! So I took it to Best Buy and had them send it for repairs.

Estimate: $263.

YIKES! That's more than the camera would be worth to replace.

So, at my request, Mensa Boy commenced researching the next camera. It's just too much information for me to digest.

He recommended a Canon Sure Shot. We both wanted a Canon Digital Rebel, but felt it would just be too spendy...because I needed more zooming power.

But I wanted a digital SLR.

So, after he did all that research, and asked his band of freelance photogs what they suggested, I went out and got exactly what he didn't want me to get...a Nikon.

He was wistful in his disappointment. Which, of course, heaped burning coals of guilt on my head.

I?

Personally?

Love it!

The book that came with it is good, too. (Although after you've had a Fuji, pretty much any instruction book is going to be better.)

So I've been carrying it around since Thursday night, shooting photos with and without flash and on different settings, trying to learn some basic techniques to get me through the next few stories. My friend Jenny, also a writer/photographer, will go with me to take some camera classes this spring. That will be fun.

This photo of Taylor was taken in the "sports" mode. I consider it to be a great feather in my cap because the first attempt at this mode yielded a lot of blur. Apparently, you can't just set the thing to sport and expect it to capture motion well. That doesn't make sense to me. Anyway, Mensa Boy mentioned increasing the ISO sensitivity, so after I checked the book on that, I found that was the thing to do and learned how to do it. I set this one to 1600. This allowed the camera to continuously focus and "freeze motion" enough to capture it. In this photo, Taylor is doing this odd, burlesque-style shuffling thing he does with this feet and arms, sort of running in place and waving his arms.

Marsha Davis

Marsha Davis
Originally uploaded by Food Fanatic.

Do you suppose Marsha Davis had a bad day?

A Story from Lis

I stepped across the lobby of the Hopkins Fine Arts Center on the night of Feb. 28 and stood in front of the Information Desk. The youngish (mid-20's) man behind the desk reluctantly interrupted his phone conversation.

"Yes?"

"I'm here for the writing class with The Loft."

He was impatiently confused. "A reading class?"

"Writing."

He was still confused. "Here?" He looked at his computer monitor. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure it's here."

"Are you sure it's not the Ellison Center?" [not sure if that's the name he said, but that's what I heard]

"Yeah."

I opened my padfolio and pulled out the course description and location I'd printed out earlier. "L-27 2, maybe? Is that a classroom?"

He was still puzzled. I handed him the sheet of paper.The course I am taking is on "Capturing Memory." It's about getting details to stay in your mind.

Here's a detail: It starts on March 14.

I don't even want to try to figure out how I made this mix-up. I took the paper back from the young gentleman, who was almost managing to keep a courteous tone (he's probably an actor), although his face said, "This may, indeed, be the dumbest person I've ever met."

"Well," I said, tucking the sheet back in the padfolio pocket, "I'll be back in two weeks then. Maybe I'll see you, if you're here."

"Oh, I'll be here," he said.

Darnit

Nate is 17!

Nate17
Originally uploaded by Food Fanatic.

Here's the birthday boy!

A Peek Inside my Brain

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Pull Over! Pull Over! For Pete's Sake!

This is for all the people who fail to pull over for emergency vehicles:

You.

Suck.

Yes, I realize that is not a very refined phrase. But people! When the doohickies are flashing on the top of a firetruck, TURN THE VOLUME DOWN ON THE RADIO and listen for the siren! Then? Pull over.

I used to think people stopped pulling over for these things because they just didn't care. But I honestly now think that people just don't notice. They are so tuned into the tunes or NPR or whatever book they are "reading" that they don't notice traffic around them. Even when it's barrelling toward them with lights and sirens flashing.

What prompted this tirade? No, I have no tragic story of "failure to pull over." But you know, it coulda bin a little tragic.

Yesterday, I'm driving along to have lunch with a friend. I see the lights of a firetruck coming toward me. Maybe it's 1/4 a mile away. I start to slow down. Guy in the car behind me creeps up to my back bumper. I start to pull over. Guy in the car behind me gets so close that I doubt a slice of bread could be slid between our cars. He jerks his wheel toward the center line...obviously thinking he's going to pass this nut in the green van that has suddenly, inexplicably decided to pull over on a busy street.

Just in time he sees the firetruck.

He yanks back.

We all breathe.

I mutter "idiot."

Firetruck passes by and life goes on.

Pay attention people!

Of Garbage and Bets

I had to chuckle when I read this story (the link will probably not work after March 1) about British trash customers being upset about microchips that have been stuck to their wheeled carts. "Wheelies," they call them...the carts. They are calling the chips "bugs."

Apparently Britain has one of the lowest recycling rates in Europe. (SHAME ON THEM!) Chips were stuck to more than 500,000 "wheelie bins" to "monitor collections."

"Germans Plant Bugs in Our Wheelie Bins," was a headline in the Daily Mail in August. (Apparently two of the bin manufacturers are German companies.)

The story tells of "small-scale revolts" erupting across the UK as customers have found the devices and ripped them off the carts.

There's the whole "Big Brother" concern but there's also the idea that the chips could be used to calculate garbage charges. And officials have admitted that is a long-term goal.

The article doesn't say it, but I guess if I were a municipal garbage customer, I'd be wondering about my dollars being wasted on the devices themselves.

This afternoon I watched the movie "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days." Cute, cute movie! I was never attracted to the title before, and skipped going to see it in the theatre and never really have felt much like renting it. But it was on AMC yesterday afternoon so I recorded it.

And a good soundtrack. I'm listening to Chantal Kreviazuk on Napster right now. She had two songs in the movie, "Feels Like Home" and "Weight of the World," both enjoyable songs. I'd never heard of her before, but I think I'll put her in my playlist for a while...she's good for cooking to, I think. I'm not finding "Feels Like Home" on Napster, though.

And speaking of cooking...this afternoon I've been roasting a duck. I used to make a duck recipe of Alton Brown's that involved steaming the pieces and then roasting at a high temp in a cast iron skillet in the oven. The kids raved about it. This time I really didn't feel much like going to all that, so looked in my "Joy of Cooking" book and found recipe for slow-roasting. 3 hours at 250 and then another 45 minutes or so at 325. It's just about done and I think it's going to be great. No flame-ups, either. Pricking the skin all over and roasting it low and slow has done the trick.

It's been a good afternoon for roasting something and vegging in front of the TV. Dark and rainy all day.

Yes. He Really Talks Like This

While I was visiting Minnesota a couple of weeks ago, I called home to ask Mensa Boy a question.

Nate answered the phone.

"Hi! This is your mother. Is Dad around?"

"Yes. But currently he is conducting a transaction with a kid at the front door."

Last night I came home from an appointment right at 6 p.m. It was suppertime. I had no idea what to have. I didn't feel like going back out to pick up something.

"I'm not sure what we should have for supper. Any ideas?"

"Well, there is still a pizza in the freezer, unless you were thinking we should eat in unanimity."

das my boy....

Hippo Dreams

There is no polite response to this question:

"Did I tell you about my hippo dream?"



Yes, he did tell me about his hippo dream. Once was enough. It seems he was out walking in the Sahara desert when a miniature hippo threatened at him. Yes...miniature. Shorter than his knees.

No. It did not bite him.

No. He doesn't know why he was in the desert.

And no. He doesn't know why a hippo was in it.

But it must have made quite an impression on Mensa Boy, because he's mentioned this dream twice in the last two days.