Friday Fun

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No wonder why John Lennon thought he was a walrus.

Note: PLRH does not condone drinking and driving or smoking of any kind.

I'd Like To Order a Pizza

Last night was pizza night in our house. Simply because both my Sweetie and I got home late from work and nothing was planned for dinner. Normally, S orders the pizza but since he wasn’t at home yet, that job fell to me. I checked my wallet to discover that I only had $1. I needed to pay with my credit card so I decided to place my order online.

How hard could it be, right?

Mr. A has a theory… There is a definitive window of time in which you are able to successfully order a pizza online. You must be hungry enough to go through all the steps. But not too hungry that your blood sugar is too low that you can’t concentrate.

Ahh… I marvel at the wisdom of my 15-year-old. He’s so astute. As I learned last night, my window of opportunity was quickly closing on me as I placed our pizza order.

Papa John’s was running an online special of three medium pizzas with three toppings each. Perfect. Lots of pizza with lots of variety. The first task was to select the toppings. Not only do you select the toppings but you also need to indicate if you want the topping on the whole pizza, the 1st half of the pizza, or the 2nd half of the pizza. Do that three times for three pizzas.

Proceed to cart. Do you want chicken wings? No, proceed to cart. Do you want chicken strips? No, proceed to cart. Do you want a beverage? No, proceed to cart. Do you want bread sticks? No, proceed to cart.

Please sign in or create an account. What? I can order anything online from books to carpet samples without creating an account. But to order pizza I need to create an account? I couldn’t use my Sweetie’s account because I had no clue what his log in was. So I created an account. Proceed to cart. Your password has been sent to your email address. Please retrieve your password and log in. I just created my password and re-entered it I might be able to remember it. Proceed to cart.

How would you like to pay for your order? CREDIT CARD! That’s why I’m going through all of this! Please enter payment information. Done. Would you like to save your credit card information. NO!

Place order. Finally! Would you like to add a tip? What? You’re charging me a delivery charge and now you want to know if I want to add a tip? In reality I know the delivery fee goes to the store and since I want my pizza while it’s still hot, I tip the driver.

Place order. Didn’t I already hit that?

Would you like to order a magazine? What? No thanks, but I’m sure the Sports Illustrated offer is popular on Super Bowl Sunday.

Submit order. Is this for real?

An email has been sent to you with your estimated delivery time. You couldn’t just tell me here? Oh okay, I’ll check my email.

The entire process took me 18 minutes. It didn’t even take Papa John that long to make our three pizzas. Which, by the way, may have been the most delicious pizzas in the universe. I'm also a little surprised that we didn't end up with nine pizzas with as many times as I hit "place order" and "submit order."

In the future, I can order pizza whenever I want because now I have an account. I just have to make sure I'm within the pizza-ordering-time-window.

No Way

This is one spa treatment I will NEVER do.

For those adventurous types, you can learn all about animal spa treatments at Planet Green.

Blech!

Kenneth Cole, where art thou?

See this shoe?

I love this shoe! That's saying a lot since it's a flat. This shoe is versatile, comfortable, and stylish. Everything a ballet flat should be or could ever hope to be.

I almost passed up this little beauty while browsing at the Kenneth Cole outlet this past weekend. Normally, I wouldn't consider wearing an embossed reptile pattern shoe but I decided to try some of Stacy and Clinton's advice.

The result: The shoe felt luscious on my foot, the pattern was subtle, and the color combination made a great neutral.

I was all set to plunk down my money on a brand new pair of shoes. However, my building excitement was crushed as I slipped the shoe back in the box and noticed the scuffed soles on both shoes. Not only were the soles scuffed, it was obvious that the shoes had been worn outside maybe even to the beach.

As I scanned the shelves for another pair in my size, a salesperson came over and asked if I needed help. I told him that I really wanted the shoes but the only ones they had left in my size had been worn and returned. I handed him the shoes and he looked at them as if he didn't understand.

He was further confused when I told him that I wasn't going to buy previously worn shoes. Yes, they were at the outlet and on sale but they still cost $50. Call me picky but I'm not about to pay any amount of money for shoes that someone else wore to their class reunion (or wherever) and then had the nerve to return to the store.

Disheartened, I continued to browse the store. I saw the salesperson place the shoes back on the shelf, hesitate, grab the shoe box again, and take it to the counter. He conferred with the other salesperson, they slapped a new price tag on the box, and replaced it on the shelf. I didn't bother to look at the new price since I'm such a picky person about purchasing previously-owned shoes. Once again, the salesperson look confused that I didn't snatch up the shoes but walked out the door empty-handed instead.

Later that evening at home, I searched online for the shoes. Kenneth Cole's website has the shoes on sale as well, but not in my size. Argh! Apparently, that particular style is only available through Kenneth Cole because I couldn't find it at any of the major department stores or any of the other online shoe retailers.

Right now I'm wishing that through the power of the internet, Kenneth Cole reads my blog and sends me a pair of grey "Slip On By" ballet flats in size 9 that he has hidden away in his swag closet. I would forever be a loyal Kenneth Cole customer.

A girl can dream, can't she?

Thoodafed, please.

Lucky me. My head is a very accurate weather barometer. Whenever a pressure change occurs, I feel it in my sinuses.

This morning I woke up at dawn with the sensation that my head was about to implode. When I reached a vertical position the pounding became wosre, the scenery swam, and the drainage down my throat made my stomach feel icky. The thought of driving to work and staring at a computer screen all day with squinty eyes didn't appeal to me. After calling into work I pleaded with the clouds outside my window, "please rain" as I crawled back into bed. Usually, the presssure evens out after it rains. Still no luck on that front. He-he. That was a pun.

Around 8:30 am G-Man woke me up whispering, "Mom, it's Monday. It's 8:30. You over slept." It could have been one of the gentlest ways he ever woke me up.

I probably would have felt better earlier if I had some sudafed. We were all out at home. Sudafed is the only decongestant I can take that doesn't make my heart race. Even though it's still considered over the counter, the FDA has restricted it. Instead of whisking into the grocery store and buying a package of sudafed. I now need to go to the pharmacy counter and show my driver's license. After taking Class II narcotics for a year and now sudafed I'm definitely on any watch list compiled by the FDA or DEA. Because I so look like a person that abuses nasal decongestants, right? Today I only purchased one quarter of my daily quota of sudafed but it should last me at least a month. If the FDA is going to restrict something, shouldn't it be restricted in reasonable amounts?

The sudafed provided relief for about an hour. During which time I was able to prepare a marinade for the whole chicken I plan to roast for dinner. Maybe the lime, cilantro, onion, garlic, and cayenne will clear out my sinuses. As I finished up in the kitchen, I heard some distant thunder and was hopeful. Alas, still no rain.

I pretty much spent the rest of the afternoon sleeping. Because I don't notice the pain and pressure in my head when I'm asleep. That is up until the time G-Man flounced on my bed inquiring what I was up to. So much for the gentleness he displayed this morning.

Time to put the bird in the oven.

This could be one of the dullest posts I've ever written. Really, it sounded funnier in my head. Honest.

Not What You're Looking For? Too Bad.

Google Analytics is a useful tool that allows web masters and bloggers to track traffic to their site. They can see where people are visiting from, how visitors got to their site, how long the visitors stayed, what the visitors read, etc. In fact, we use Google Anaylytics at work to help us determine the effectiveness of our web site.

Just for fun I put a tracking code in my blog a few days ago. I don't have any intention of changing what I blog about in order to attract more hits. But I am curious about how people find me and what they are reading.

Yesterday I discovered that someone visited my blog after he searched the key words "redhead 69." That's right, someone landed on my blog while looking for porn. I use the pronoun "he" because statistics say it's a he. Imagine his surprise when he saw the 1975 photo of PLRH's first fish... and no porn. I am so filled with glee knowing that some less-than-respectable person was disappointed by my PG-13 blog. Of course, I may get more hits now that I've mentioned porn three times and redhead 69 twice. But I really don't care.

All my life I've never understood the world's fascination with redheads. Just because a woman has red hair that doesn't mean that she's sexier, a better lover, naughtier, etc. Then there's the whole 69 thing. My birth year is '69. Trust me. I've heard all the jokes. My class certainly had fun with them in high school.

So for someone to visit my blog while looking for "redhead 69" doesn't bother me at all. It amuses me. Instead of porn all he gets is the ramblings of an almost 40 wife and mother of two on ordinary daily life occurrences.

Bond Goes Green

What if MI6 merged with the EPA? James Bond’s secret agent skills would be pitted against evil, mastermind billionaires intent on polluting the world. Instead of 007 being licensed to kill, he would be licensed to recycle, reuse, and mitigate toxic spills .

Going with this theme, the boys and I have re-named all 22 James Bond movies. Of course, the boys insist that James Bond is just as brash, brawn, and suave as always. My insistence is that Daniel Craig still appears in UDT shorts.

Here’s our list of eco-friendly James Bond film titles:

1. Dr. No = Dr. CO2
2. From Russia with Love = From Greenpeace with Love
3. Goldfinger = Green Thumb
4. Thunderball - Ozoneball
5. You Only Live Twice = Use Grocery Bags Twice
6. On Her Majesty's Secret Service = On Her Majesty's Environmental Protection Service
7. Diamonds Are Forever = Styrofoam is Forever
8. Live and Let Die = Live and Let Compost
9. The Man with the Golden Gun = The Man with the Hybrid Car
10. The Spy Who Love Me = The Vegan Who Loved Me
11. Moonraker = Stripminer
12. For Your Eyes Only = For Your Recycling Only
13. Octopussy = Net Free Tuna
14. A View to a Kill = A View to a No Kill Shelter
15. The Living Daylights = The Compact Fluorescent Lights
16. License to Kill = No License to Drill
17. GoldenEye = EcoWatch
18. Tomorrow Never Dies = Plastic Never Dies
19. The World in Not Enough = The World is Not Green Enough
20. Die Another Day = Dye-Free today
21. Casino Royale = Casino Recycale
22. Quantum of Solace = Quantum of Solar Panels

Maybe next we'll re-name the Bond girls. Instead of Strawberry Fields her name could be Hyrdoponic Strawberry. What do you think? Any suggestions?

Flying Fish, Swimming Squirrel

Recently, I was feeling nostalgic for childhood summers long past. As I thought of all the fun I had at Pines Lake, I wondered how the lake (and surrounding area) looked now. I haven't been there for 14 years so I imagined that things must have change.

When I searched online for images of Pines Lake I came across a website of amateur photographer, Bill Maloney. I can honestly say that I recognized every location in his photos. Some shots gave me pangs of homesickness (for lack of a better word). I noticed changes here and there. But when I looked at the photos of the picnics and kids activities I knew that the atmosphere was the same after 30 years. Overall, Mr. Maloney caught the essence of Pines Lake.

While looking through the wildlife photos I saw something that I had never seen before in my life... a swimming squirrel! Below are the photos of an authentic Pines Lake squirrel swimming in Pines Lake.

Just keep swimming...

Almost there...

Way to go Rocky!

Those Red Cross swim lessons really paid off!

Three Things

Three things I learned this morning when I turned on my digital camera:

1. Mr. A was playing with my camera.

2. G-Man was playing with my dart gun AND shot my camera.

3. My children aren't clever enough to erase the photographic evidence of items 1 and 2.

World Beach Project Results

After the rain storm Saturday evening, my Sweetie and I went to the beach. Plenty of people were still there. The breeze was cool & lovely and the water temp of the Gulf of Mexico was like bath water. Ahhh...


We didn't have much time before the next wave of rain would come. My Sweetie set up his tripod to take photos and I scoured the sand for any bit of rock. In this part of Florida, rocks only come in the form of fossils, coral, or fossilized coral. Often you can see seashells imbedded in the rock...

I only found about a dozen rocks before the light began to fade. I made my sculpture & drawings and photographed them for the World Beach Project. My artwork isn't very impressive. Is it okay to blame it on my lack of materials? Or should it all rest on my lack of creativity?

Either way, the west coast of Florida is now on the World Beach Project map and I participated in my first international art project. Thank you very much.

World Beach Project

For the past few weeks I’ve had a bad case of the summertime blues. Mostly because it seems like “everyone is going on vacation but me!” Add a slightly irritating whine to that phrase and you’ll know how I feel.

I can’t think of any place in particular that I want to go. I just want to get away from the house, cooking, cleaning, and laundry for a day or two. Know what I mean?

There are PLENTY of places to go in Florida. All I want is a long weekend. But that just isn’t possible. Summer is the craziest time of year for my Sweetie at work. He’s been working 6.5 days a week for the past month. I keep photos of him handy so I don’t forget what he looks like between now and the end of September.

Then this morning things slowly started falling into perspective…

First on Facebook, I noticed that friends of mine from college are traveling from places like western PA to go to the Jersey Shore for their “big” summer vacation. They’re elated about the ocean, the sand, and 80 degree weather. My initial thought was, “Been there, done that, the t-shirt fell apart in the wash decades ago.”

But then I was a bit humbled by the thought that I don’t have to drive 8 hours to see the ocean. I have completely overlooked the natural resources of Florida that’s all within a 20 minute drive. Heck! I see the Gulf of Mexico from my office every day!

As these thoughts were still whirling around my head, I logged onto the Victoria & Albert Museum’s website to look something up for work. A page on the World Beach Project caught my eye. All over the world people go to the beach, make a design in the sand with rocks, record the process with photos, go home and upload the photos to the Museum’s website.

I really want to go to one of the numerous local beaches this weekend and do the project. It involves so many things that I enjoy: the beach, creativity, patterns, and photography. The only catch is that the project has to be made with found stones at the actual beach – no seashells, seaweed, driftwood, etc. This part of Florida is essentially one giant sandbar. The only “rocks” that can be found are fossilized coral. I hope the folks in England understand that.

I also hope that my Sweetie wants to spend his half day off at the beach making patterns in the sand.

Photo: Stone drawing, Porth Ysgo, made by unknown person

Choose Your Words Carefully

A member of my family might have irritable bowel syndrome. Since this is affliction is genetic, I decided to do a little bit of research on the topic. So yesterday at work, when I hit the afternoon wall at 3 o’clock, I logged onto the internet and came across an article on the Mayo Clinic web site.

When I got to sentence below I burst out laughing. I had tears squirting from my eyes. I found it so amusing that I had to share it with my co-workers. But it also makes me wonder… Do medical writers even have a sense of humor? Plus, does anyone proofread what they write?

“Because there are usually no physical signs to definitively diagnose irritable bowel syndrome, diagnosis is often a process of elimination.”

Beam Me Up, Scotty

You know you've been watching the SyFy Channel (formerly known as SciFi) too much when you ask if your son has "transport" to the swim meet.

I'm Just a Girl Who Can't Wear High Heels

Photos: Saks Fifth Avenue

As a result of my spinal fusion surgery, I’m left with a few minor physical restrictions. I had anticipated some mobility limitations. But there is one thing I wasn’t expecting. I can no longer wear high-heeled shoes of any sort.

When a woman slips on a pair of peep-toe pumps her hips tilt forward ever so slightly. That action requires a little bit of flexing of the spine. Flexing of the spine in the exact location where mine is fused.

Many times since my surgery I tried on the shoes in my closet. Each time I hoped that something changed. Nope. Each pair of shoes with the slightest bit of an angle were completely impossible to wear. So with maturity and dignity I boxed up my heels and drove them to Goodwill.

Now I am tormented by the shoes I can’t wear. Heels are the first thing I gravitate to when shopping. Sometimes I even try them on but it just doesn’t work.

The other night I dreamed that I was in the Jimmy Choo Boutique trying on every pair. As I related the story to my Sweetie the next morning, I couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t more empathetic. That’s when I realized that I had to explain Jimmy Choo to him.

Let me clarify for a moment. No, I do not own any Jimmy Choo shoes. Remember, I’m the person who won’t pay $400 for a giraffe-print purse from Dooney & Bourke. So I’m not likely to pay $500 for a pair of sandals. Jimmy Choo is just a fantasy. But if I’m really going to daydream, it would probably be Prada.

Anyway, at almost 5’9” many of you may wonder why I need to wear heels. It’s not a matter of need but desire. Everyone knows that a woman’s legs look fabulous when she’s wearing heels. Besides that, how many times has your friend looked at your flats and exclaimed, “I LOVE your shoes!”

My point exactly.

In the news...

I don't like the news. The sensantionalized, in-your-face approach doesn't appeal to me at all. In fact, I haven't watched the news on TV since September 2001. The self-select method via the newspaper or internet is what I prefer. Even then I run across articles that are so horrible that it makes me miserable. I can't explain why I read these articles. Often times I can't finish them. Perhaps I read them in hopes that there is a happy ending. If it was up to me, I wouldn't read the news at all. But since it's part of my job, I really can't avoid it.

This morning I was in a bad funk after reading the news. I remarked to my co-worker that I wasn't going to look at the news "ever again." Then she shared some wonderful news that she just heard. Uncommon Blonde had her baby over the weekend and everyone is healthy. What better way to brighten up a day?

Welcome Little One and thank you for making me smile.

One Year

One year ago today I had my spinal fusion surgery. Unofficially, I am completely recovered (it won’t be official until I follow-up with the surgeon in 6 weeks). Today may not seem like much but it’s a huge deal for me.

Before my surgery I was in so much pain. Then the recovery from the surgery was more difficult than I ever expected. I’m not sure if that was because the procedure was more invasive than planned or because I don’t suffer well. I had never had major surgery before and was clueless to the real concept of misery and discomfort. Up until then, the most intense physical ordeal I had ever experienced was childbirth. Twice. Without drugs. I would gladly do THAT ten times over if it would erase the memory of my spinal fusion.

A year ago I would have told you that I had a high tolerance of pain because of the above referenced childbirth(s). Also my pain management doctor told me that any of his other patients would have quit working and been on disability if they had my condition. Not me. I continued to work 40 hours a week. Plus my surgeon told me after my surgery that he had no idea how I was still walking. Red hair = Stubborn. If I had known how bad the damage was, I might have turned into a pile of quivering jelly. Ignorance is bliss. But now I’m not so confident of my pain tolerance. My Sweetie will confirm that I did a whole lot of crying during the weeks of recovery.

In the end, the spinal fusion was the only option for me. If I hadn’t had the surgery, my spine would have collapsed by now and more than likely I would be paralyzed. Not a pleasant thought at all. Now I’m completely pain free, back to an active lifestyle with only a few restrictions, and I have enough hardware in my back to anchor a small boat.

Actually, I have a whole new outlook on life. Here's my attitude before my surgery:

... and my attitude today:

No, I'm not really tattooed. But I couldn't find anything that said, "Do you want to see my scars?"

My goal for the future is to stay healthy so I don’t have to have a repeat spinal surgery.

Believe me, I would much rather volunteer for a year in the reptile house at the zoo.

69 Days to Go, Dudes

For the past few months my coping technique for becoming 40 has been to plan my own birthday party. I’ve now come to the conclusion that I don’t want a party. I’m at a loss to explain my reasoning. Except maybe I have already adjusted to the idea.

Many interesting (and non-political) events took place in 1969 and during the past planning months I learned about others. Here’s a small selection:

1. The first man landed on the moon.
2. US Masters Swimming was established.
3. Woodstock
4. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid was the #1 movie.
5. The Very Hungry Caterpillar was published.
6. Sesame Street and Monty Python’s Flying Circus first aired on TV.
7. The Beatles held their last public performance.
8. Led Zeppelin’s first album debuted.
9. The first GAP store opened.

Also, here’s a partial list of some well-known people who share my birth year:

Jennifer Aniston, Robert Sean Leonard, Pauley Perrette, Renée Zellweger, Cate Blanchette, Emmitt Smith, David Boreanaz, Steffi Graf, Jennifer Loez, Christian Slater, Matthew Perry, Jack Black, Rachel Hunter, Catherine Zeta-Jones, Gwen Stefani, and Brett Favre.

It was a pretty awesome year!

Stuff at the Office

Ever come across something that makes you shake your head? It's only Wednesday but already at work this week I've come across a few things that make me stop and say, huh?

1. Many people store their insulated lunchboxes in the frig in the break room. Does putting an insulated lunchbox in the frig help keep the food inside colder? I can't see how it makes that much difference when the office temp is 75 degrees. The lunchboxes only take up valuable space.

2. How does so much pollen get through the filter on the A/C system and land on my desk?

3. Half of the phone calls I receive are from people who don't listen to the phone message system and just start pressing buttons. I'm considering answering my phone "Operator."

Fish Story

One day after work, a few years ago, my Sweetie asked me how I felt. At the time, my back was really bothering me so I replied, "Crappy." G-Man overheard this and immediately started scolding me for using a bad word. I calmly told him that "crappie" was a kind of fish. G-Man thought about this for a half second then ran to the other room shouting to Mr. A, "Hey! Guess what! Mom feels like a fish!"

We still use the word "fishy" in our house.

Miss Austen and Mr. Twain, Again

The last time I posted about Jane Austen and Mark Twain I received a comment suggesting that I read Who is Mark Twain?, by Mark Twain Himself. The book is a collection of essays written by Mr. Twain but never before published as a whole. I ordered the book, read it, and thoroughly enjoyed it. As I read the book, I wondered how Mr. Twain would have commented on today's society. His wit, sarcasm, and bluntness would be quite refreshing.

One of the essays in Who is Mark Twain? is about Miss Austen. Those two had a contentious relationship even though they weren't contemporaries, never met, and Miss Austen was totally unaware of such a relationship. Mr. Twain said the following about Miss Austen's writing:

"She makes me detest all her people, without reserve. Is that her intention? It is not believable. Then is it her purpose to make the reader detest her people up to the middle of the book and like them in the rest of the chapters? That could be. That would be high art. It would be worth while, too. Some day I will examine the other end of her books and see."

I laughed out loud when I read that part because I had expressed an similar idea when I read Persuasion.

Now, for some reason, I have a slightly bizarre fascination with Miss Austen. I read a historical novel told from the view point of Jane Austen's only sister, Cassandra. The book was aptly named Cassandra & Jane. After reading that novel, I now know why Miss Austen's novels are so dull and tedious. Because her life was so dull and tedious! In contrast to what I wondered about Mr. Twain above, I wondered what it would be like to live in Miss Austen's time period. Lack of indoor plumbing aside, I wonder how I would fare.

This evening I purchased a new Jane Austen novel, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. Yes, you read that last part correctly. The back cover describes the book as "an expanded edition of the beloved Jane Austen novel featuring all-new scenes of bone-crunching zombie mayhem." Sounds like fun! Perhaps the spirit of Mark Twain does live on.

Happy Independence Day, Pilgrim!

The 4th of July was always an event to look forward to during my Pines Lake childhood summers. The morning started with the bike parade from the elementary school down to the lake. Then there was the picnic complete with grilled Italian sausages with onions and peppers and ice cold Shasta soda that you had to hunt for at the bottom of garbage cans filled with ice. The day wrapped up with the fireworks display down at the municipal building. Or China Town fireworks shot out over the lake from someone's backyard. Ahh... carefree, halcyon days.

As I got older, I've come to realize that it's smart to have a back-up plan.

Why?

Because the males in my family can't seem to avoid the Emergency Room in the two-week stretch from Father's Day to July 4th. Former holiday ER visits have included: the skateboard incident, the slide incident, a trip down the stairs, and the freak MRSA infection. So as you can see, at times some quiet, indoor rest may be in order - both as prevention and treatment.

That's how our new family tradition got started. On the 4th of July we like to watch a patriotic movie. Who exudes more patriotism than John Wayne, the Duke himself??? My personal favorite for the 4th is "McKlintock" for a few reasons: I don't care to watch war movies, the climax of the movie is the July 4th picnic, and Maureen O'Hara is the most fabulous redhead ever.

Remember, an ounce of prevention goes a long way and please wish me luck today. No matter how lovely the staff is at the ER I don't care to see them again so soon.

Family Movie Night

Summer vacation, middle of the week, pouring down rain, and a big hearty bowl of pasta… What a perfect setting for Family Movie Night!

Last night was my turn to pick and I selected “Raiders of the Lost Ark”. After 28 years, this movie still has all its appeal and shines through as the best “Indiana Jones” movie. If you were born after 1975, then more than likely you never saw this film in the theater. The opening 10 minutes, especially the rolling boulder, are awesome to watch on the big screen. I particularly love the way the movie is filmed with the slightly campy, dramatic shots that mimic the movies of the 1930s.

As the DVD was loading, the boys asked if “Raiders” was my all-time favorite movie. I hadn’t really thought about it beforehand. I’ve made my favorite Christmas movie list but never my all-time favorite movie list. Without a doubt “Raiders” would be on that list. “Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade” (aka the 2nd best Indy movie) would also make the list. Hmmm…. Maybe we’ll watch that one tonight.

I will warn you that if you sit down to watch “Raiders of the Lost Ark” with me, I will probably annoy the daylights out of you. This is one of the few movies that I can quote the lines a second before they’re said. I can’t help myself. I have no idea how my family puts up with me. By far the best line in the movie is:

“Snakes. Why did it have to be snakes?”

I could love Indiana Jones for that reason alone.


Photo: Lucasfilm Ltd.

Have You Ever De-Friended Someone?

A couple of months ago when I decided to give FaceBook another try, I made the decision to keep it strictly social. I took a look at my “friends” list and noticed that more than half of my friends were co-workers/business associates that I don’t socialize with outside of work. So I de-friended them.

FaceBook let’s you remove someone from your friend list without notifying that person. But sometimes that person catches on…

One of the people I de-friended was a former co-worker that I hadn’t communicated with for over a year. Just a few days later she sent me a very long message via FaceBook ranting about how she couldn’t believe that I deleted her from my friends list. She told me that she thought we had a very special friendship. That sentence was enough for me to stop reading and delete her monolog.

Then last night, as I pulled up to a stoplight I noticed the above mentioned non-friend in the car next to me. I stared straight ahead and hoped she wouldn’t notice me. Didn’t work. Out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of her waving furiously. So I dug around in my purse, pulled out my phone, and sang along to the radio. As soon as the light turned green, I snapped the phone shut and drove on. I was prepared to drive a very circuitous route home. Thankfully, at the next stop she turned right while I turned left. Whew!