Oh no! I stopped by the grocery store last night to pick up something quick and was confronted by a HUGE display of Cadbury chocolate eggs. Not just any run-of-the-mill Easter candy, but my nemesis, the Cadbury egg. I don’t know why I like these, but I really do.
How do I keep myself from temptation for the next six weeks?
Finally – some science I can completely get behind! An article last week declared that drivers of expensive cars are jerks.
One study measured this by clocking vehicles at various crossroads. It found that drivers of more “flashy vehicles” are less likely to stop for pedestrians. And not just that, but as the cost of the car goes up, the likelihood that the driver will even slow down decreases. The researchers speculate that luxury car owners “feel a sense of superiority over other road users” and were thus less able to empathize with lowly sidewalk-dwellers. And I’m sure no one will be surprised that the race and gender of the pedestrian matters as well.
Apparently this discovery of a car-value-to-jerkish-behavior correlation isn’t new; The Journal of Transport and Health, backed up a Finnish study published in January found that men who own flashy vehicles are more likely to be “argumentative, stubborn, disagreeable and unempathetic.” According to the study “these personality traits explain the desire to own high-status products, and the same traits also explain why such people break traffic regulations more frequently than others.”
Obviously no one wants to tar every single luxury-car owner with one broad brush, but the generalities don’t look good. We just have to worry about how all the small, cheap, beater car owners will now feel smug!
What’s one extra component you’d like to have on your car? Extra smugness points to anybody who doesn’t have a car!!
With all the channels that I have access to, I usually just scroll through the tv guide; I only have a few channels actually memorized. I don’t suppose it will surprise you that Food Network and The Cooking Channel are two of those channels?
There are quite a few shows on those two channels that I don’t watch. Any kind of competition in which one of the contestants gets thrown off at the end – I won’t watch that. It’s just mean. I don’t have too much trouble with contests where at the end they just announce one winner, as long as there isn’t too much trash talk, but no throwing people out!. (And please.. nobody needs to tell me how different “The Great British Bake Off” show is and how I’ll like it – I’ve heard it all before.)
My favorite kinds of shows feature different dishes from places around the world, shows like “Bizarre Foods”, “The Best Thing I Ever Ate”, “Unique Sweets”, etc. I’ll even watch Guy Fieri’s “Diners, Drive-ins & Dives” in a pinch, although he’s not my favorite chef.
Last Sunday, while enjoying Leap Day, I was switching back and forth between two cooking shows that were on at the same time. One of those shows was “Unique Sweets”, a program that showcases desserts from different bakeries around the country. By luck of the draw, at one point there was a dish on each channel that were both interesting to me, so while “Unique Sweets” was showing ingredients being stirred together, I flipped to the other channel. They were also showing some ingredients being stirred together, but it seemed like they were stirring really quickly. I switched back and forth several more times before I figured out that Unique Sweets appears to be slowing down some of their food prep shots a bit compared to “live action”. This caught my attention so I watched a whole bunch of “US” episodes very closely and what I discovered is that slowing down the action makes the food seem a lot more appealing; more sumptuous, more mouth-watering. That would explain why I like this show so much. Does this mean I’m into “food porn”? Or am I just imagining it?
What makes your mouth water?
Last week, on what may very well have been the last below-freezing day we have this winter, I pulled what I lovingly refer to as “my London jumper” out of my closet. I bought this sweater over 30 years ago; it is black with various bright-colored threads woven through out – yellow, turquoise, red and blue. It is a turtle neck and very warm so doesn’t get worn too often each winter.
When I went to London about 5 years back, I packed the sweater, thinking it might be a good thing for a chilly British evening (and, of course, it goes with anything). I did end up wearing it on the evening we visited the Aqua Shard, a restaurant on the 34th and 35th floor of The Shard, the tallest building in the U.K. The group I was with had a few drinks and were coming down in the elevator when a young man (probably in his early 30s) noticed my sweater, or “jumper” as they say across the pond. He gushed over my sweater, made sure everyone in the elevator noticed it and eventually put his arms around me and asked if I wanted to join his little group. Obviously there was some alcohol involved. I said no and at the end of the elevator ride, his group and mine went our separate ways.
I’ve told this story to a few folks over the years but last week, when someone asked me about it, they were horrified about the fact that I was “assaulted” (their word) on a work trip. Had I reported it in London? Did I report it at work once I got home? I feel strongly about the MeToo movement but I don’t believe that every time one person touches another, it is “assault”. I was in a large group of people in the elevator, some of whom were with me, the young man was not aggressive, his hug did not include any kind of groping and importantly, when we got to the ground floor, he didn’t make any attempt to force me to go with his group. I didn’t feel a moment of anxiety and I actually laughed at the time – not out of nervousness, but because I genuinely found the whole scenario funny.
So I still think of this sweater fondly as my “London jumper” as it reminds me of an amusing experience on a nice trip.
Does any of your clothing have a backstory?
Tech savvy are not two words that probably come to mind when you think of me. Some folks even laugh when they find out I am the go-to person at work when things are not going well computer-wise. My co-workers come to me when files go missing, when they need to know how to do something in Word or Excel (even Powerpoint occasionally) and I’m also the head of a long-standing group that controls all the various forms that we use in the events division. That doesn’t mean that technology isn’t moving faster than I can sometimes keep up with it. I have a new computer at home and it feels slow going to get used to it and at work it does feel like sometimes the tech folks are speaking a foreign language. But even so, I generally don’t feel flummoxed when faced with technology.
So, my trip to Texas a couple of weeks back took me by surprise. I got to the hotel around lunchtime – the front desk offered to have someone show me to my room but I declined; seems a little silly to make somebody walk to my room with me. I got into the elevator, pushed the button for the 5th floor and the doors shut. After a bit, the doors opened and as I was about to step out, I looked up to see that the elevator was still on the lobby level and the man waiting seemed surprised that I stayed on as he entered. Then I saw him swipe his room key card up against a panel at the bottom of the floor buttons; you need your key card to signal the elevator to move.
Key card in hand, I approved my door once I finally got to the 5th floor. There wasn’t a noticeable “slot” to enter the key card, so I assumed you just swiped it. I held it up to the door knob. Nothing. I turned I sideways. Nothing. I held it upside down. Nothing. As I was about to go back to the desk to get a new key, I happened to very quickly move the card against the door. Open sesame!
And as if that wasn’t enough trauma in two minutes, I had to call the front desk for the wifi password and I couldn’t figure out the phone. I pushed the Line 1 button, then the Line 2 button, the speaker button and all the combinations I could think of. I eventually did get through, but I tried so many things that I don’t remember what I did that worked.
Three times in 10 minutes, I was stymied by technology at the Four Seasons. It made me feel a little old and outdated so to sooth my nerves, I took my book and sat out on my balcony for a while, reading the old-fashioned way. I left my phone and my pc in the room.
Been flummoxed by any technology lately?
Over the weekend I made thank you cards for the good Samaritans that pulled me out of the snow last week, baked two loaves of zucchini bread, wrapped them and tied them with ribbon. When it was time to go to dog class Monday night, I put everything in a tote bag and took it along. Neither of my Samaritans was there. One is on vacation in Mexico, the other under the weather and skipping class. I left one loaf for the other staff to enjoy and YA has already polished off quite a bit of the second loaf!
When have you had best laid plans go awry?
I know we’ve had “kindness of strangers” stories before, but here is another.
Took Guinevere to her doggie class Monday night. The school is built on a hill and there are two parking areas, one up top that we’ve been warned is occasionally ticketed and the one that goes down the hill in the back. I have always parked down the hill.
It was only about an inch of snow and I wasn’t very worried until I got down to the bottom of the hill and turned around to get into my favorite parking spot and slid a bit. So I thought maybe I should park up top, just in case. Now, you should know , I don’t have great tires, but I don’t have a great need for them, living on a well-plowed county road and surrounded by other well-plowed thoroughfares (50th, Crosstown, 35W, 100). But this was one of those times when I needed better tires; I could not get back up the hill.
There is a spot off the parking lot, behind a bank of garages and I thought “I’ll zip in there and when I come out I can get a little speed to get me up the hill”. If I had really looked at the area I was about to enter, I would not have done this. It clearly hadn’t been plowed since the LAST snow – once I was back there, I could not get out. And to add insult to injury, for some reason I did not have any gloves in my pocket.
In between the two halves of the class I tried shoveling out and did get the car moved closer to the parking lot, but then got stuck again. When I went back inside and started to call AAA, Terry (one of the instructors) said “Let’s go take a look.” He and John (who I had never met) came out, attached a big strap to the back of my car and basically pulled me out of the snow and all the way to the top of the driveway backwards. I was able to park up top and finish doggie class!
I have a thank you card design in mind and I think I will deliver them with zucchini bread next Monday night.
What the last kindness you’ve received (or given)?
Outside the airport, it smells like ribs.
It’s 55 and rainy here today.
The hotel is downtown but overlooks a lake named after a First Lady.
They have chips and pimiento cheese on the room service menu!
Where am I?
Almost 15 years ago, we had been dog-less for several months (after the death of Tristan, who was crazy, I need a bit of breathing space). Then that summer, YA and both decided it was time. We debated and debated about whether to get an Irish Setter or a Samoyed, although we both wanted to try for rescue dogs. There were two rescue organizations that had good reputations, one was Play it Again Sammies in Wisconsin and Save our Setters in Tennessee; we filled out the paperwork (miles of it) with both and said we would see who came up first, a Sammy or a Setter.
Rhiannon was about a year old and had actually been found in Alabama. After a few weeks of posted notices, no one had claimed her so she went to the rescue organization in Tennessee. Even though I was technically waiting to be approved, when I saw her photo on the SOS site, I called them and after a couple more phone calls, they agreed that we might be a good fit for her. A volunteer drove her from Tennessee to Chicago and then another volunteer from Madison, drove to Chicago to get her. Then YA and I drove to Madison on a Saturday morning to pick her up. Except for that photo online, sight unseen.
The volunteer didn’t want us to come to her house so we met in the parking lot behind a steak house on Highway 94. I felt a little like somebody was going to show up wearing a big overcoat, whip open the coat and say “pssst, you wanna buy a watch? Or an Irish Setter?” My first words on seeing her were “Oh, she’s so little.” In fact, over the years, many folks have assumed she is not a setter because of her size.
But that little body held a huge Irish Setter mentality. All toys were hers; she didn’t destroy them or even play with them much, but they were hers. She would pick up a toy or lay down near one and none of the other dogs (or cats) were allowed to have it. All food was hers; over the years we had to move the trash totally out of the kitchen onto the back porch and also to lock the organic recycling. She could open ANY trash container, including our current one that opens with a motion detector. Food left on the counter was completely hers – just a month ago, she ate half a recipe of ginger cookie dough while it was waiting to be set on cookie sheets. All dog beds were hers. For the last few years, there have been two dog beds in my room, a red one and a blue one, same make and model. If Gwen or Nimue laid on one of the beds, Rhiannon would get up and move over to the taken bed, shoving the inhabitant out. Once she laid right on top of Nimue before the kitty could get out of the way.
And stubborn. Oh my stubborn. Despite having passed two dog training classes, “come” was optional in her world, as well as “stay”. Only if it suited her. We have a dog gate to keep her out of the kitty box, a dog gate to keep her upstairs at night, dog gate to keep her in the breakfast room during parties (she once took a cookie right out of the hand of a toddler.) And although every single treat I ever gave her over the years was accompanied by a stern “gentle”, she never mastered the art. Grabbing was her thing.
After 15 great years, filled with treats, walks and lots of spoiling, Rhiannon has gone onto that big dog park in the great beyond. She’d been struggling for a month or so and really went downhill the last couple of weeks. My feeling has always been that I don’t spoil my animals for years to let them suffer at the end; over the weekend it was clear that she had finished her journey and it was time for me to let her go. All of her “queen-of-the-world” attitude aside, I will miss her gentle eyes and beautiful red fur.
Any good animal stories to cheer me up today?
KELT 9-B seems an innocuous-enough name for an exoplanet. It was discovered in 2017 and is apparently an “ultra-hot Jupiter” – huge gas giants hotter than anything in our solar system. In fact, some of the new data coming in suggests that it is three times larger than our Jupiter and approximately 7,800 degrees Fahrenheit on its surface. So hot in fact, that hydrogen atoms are shredded by the heat during the daytime and can only re-form until they appear on the dark side of the planet; KELT 9-B is tidally locked to its star, so the hot side always faces its sun.
It’s amazing to me that we can figure this stuff out since we can’t just look it up on the internet. All the data on KELT 9-B has come from two robotic telescopes in the Kilodegree Extremely Little Telescope project, one telescope in South Africa and the other in southern Arizona. And of course, it makes me wonder how a planet like KELT 9-B comes into existence. And can it survive its own heat?
How do you cool down when you’re angry?
Trail Baboon 