A Room of One's Own

Virginia Wolfe saw the necessity in having a room of one’s own. I’ve been wondering if this is all I need – a room to write. A space where I won’t be distracted by the refrigerator, my roommates or the squirrels that I swear have multiplied exponentially since last summer. So I’ve been experimenting with getting out of the house.

Today, I’m at my semi-local Starbuck’s. I tried my local-local Starbucks (approximately 0.4 miles down the road) but it didn’t have the cozy chairs of this Starbucks. But still, I’m not sure this is my room to write. There are two older men. One is sitting in a padded purple chair looking like the Marshmallow Man from Ghostbusters. He is wearing a baseball cap, glasses, dirty white sneakers with equally dingy white socks and a could-be, cheap gold watch. (I can’t say I know my expensive from inexpensive jewelry.) He was quietly reading a Dean Koontz novel, resting the book on the first roll beneath his chin. Then his friend came in like the Anti-Norm from Cheers. Whereas Norm would walk in, the guests in the bar shouting his name while Norm would simply wave and quietly take his seat, this guy walked in announcing his entrance in a booming voice while the crowd just kind of looked up. His friend, reading the Koontz novel, gave him a small wave while the boisterous man made his rounds saying hello to the seven people behind the counter. I believe we (we, the Starbucks community) call them baristas. (For minute, I forgot if I was in Connecticut or India, with the overabundance of coffee specialists, but I suppose with the complicated menu it takes three people to complete one order.

Anyway, Bruce – the loud guy – has proceeded to stand around a chair for a while making noise before finally taking a seat as if he is waiting for applause (simply to say, “oh, no, no, thank you. You’re too kind.”) Bruce tells the Dean Koontz fan (D.K.F) that he is surprised to see him what with gas prices through the roof. DKF slyly smiles and says he’s come for his free iced coffee. Bruce laughs a little too loudly and gives DKF a “that’s a good one” elbow nudge. DKF says he’s serious. Wednesdays are free iced coffee days at Starbuck’s. Well, at this Bruce is up at of his chair again, yelling across the small sitting area to the perky barista who is up cleaning tables with a dirty rag and an unmarked spray bottle. “Hey, how come I didn’t know about these free iced coffees? What, is this only for certain customers?” He’s laughing and has attracted the attention of an Asian guy who seems equally eager to hear about this free coffee business. The girl says that the offer is good on any sized iced coffee and has been going on for about a month. Bruce continues to push the joke that maybe he is somehow a discriminated customer, boxed out of the secret. He sits back down. The girl jokes back saying it has nothing to do with the fact that she saw him outside of the Starbuck’s recently (maybe at the beach?) and she waved at Bruce who ignored her. He says, “Impossible. Of course I would say hello!” I’m sure he would especially if it would’ve attracted the attention of a small crowd. She says that perhaps he just didn’t recognize her without her green apron. She was in shorts and a tank top. Bruce says, “well then of course I would notice you if you were in shorts and a tank top!” The girl is not small (in fact, she is awkwardly large) and I can’t help but feel like our funny Bruce is making kind of a cruel (or at least ignorant) comment. Something about the way he stressed, “of course I would SEE YOU…” as he continued to laugh more at her than with her. But she continues smiling and cleaning and says that today is the last Wednesday for the free iced coffees and of course Bruce, being a valued customer, would have been able to take advantage of the offer had he only known. She makes her way back to the counter while Bruce and DKF continue to discuss the missed opportunities of four free coffees. This in turn, leads to a lengthy discussion about the state of the economy.

DKF says that he is trying to cut down on his driving but he will not compromise his comfort. He continues to use his air conditioning as necessary. Bruce comforts him by saying that in any sensible, economy car, the amount of gas used to power the A/C is minimal and that in this heat, you can’t NOT use your A/C. “The real problem is the SUV. Luckily, they are closing down production plants left and right,” Bruce tells us. “By this time next year, I bet you won’t hear of one company making the things.” Then he sits up a bit and says like he’s letting DKF in on some secret, “you know how we get these guys,” pausing for dramatic effect, “you stop buying. That’s why they are getting rid of SUVs. People aren’t buying them. That’s all we can do. We don’t have a say in government. They don’t listen to us. The only way to get them to listen is to stop buying.”

I have a feeling we are not just talking about car manufacturers any longer but he doesn’t really specify who the “they” and the “them” he is condemning are. DKF, who has been doing a lot of nodding says, “Starbuck’s is closing a bunch of stores now too.” As Bruce finishes a sip of his free iced coffee (that he has since asked for), he says in loud hush, like a kid trying to whisper, “yeah, well, serves them right. They expanded too quickly. People just have to stop buying.” How’s the venti iced latte treating you, Bruce? He continues, “I mean the answer is simple. We have to say (he flicks his hand from under his chin in a fangul gesture), we’re not buying. Simple.” Simple. Call Bernanke. Bruce Starbuck’s has the answer to all our economic woes.

DKF continues to nod in agreement and eggs his buddy on with, “Let me ask you, you know those checks we got from the government? How much did you get?” Bruce corrects DKF by telling him it’s an economic stimulus check and he got $600. DKF says he got $398, pronouncing “three” as “tree.” DKF continues, “Tell me, how come you got 600 and I got 398? Because I’m married? How is that fair?” Bruce kind of ignores the question and goes on a tyrant about “economic stimulus, my a$$. Who is Bush trying to help out, me or the business man?” You know what Bruce did with his check? Why he put it right in the bank and hasn’t touched it. He’s not buying. “Give me a couple hundred buck to put food on my table, give me a break!” DKF says he put his money in his checking account but assured Bruce that he only buys what he needs. “I’m not out buying TVs or anything, but we need to eat.” Bruce continues to preach, “Yeah, you know, you gotta feed your family. But it’s these idiots who are going out and buying the latest gadgets. The answer is easy. Just don’t buy.” He gives us a quick lesson in supply and demand.

The sports page of the paper is on the table between them. Bruce picks it up and tosses it back on the table, “You want to cut these guys’ salaries, don’t go to the damn games!” A-Rod, whose photo is on the front page, stares back at them while they discuss how much he takes home. Bruce says, “Now, a guy like Bill Gates, he invested and made his money. But we’re just giving it to these guys (sports players)! Don’t buy the tickets!” He gets a little quieter now. I think he’s just recharging. “But you know…we all have to refuse to buy.” He reminds us that it’s the same with movie stars. Bruce doesn’t go to the movies. DKF confesses he went to see “The X-Files” but only because it was so hot, he needed to be in air-conditioning. Bruce seems a little disappointed and DKF jokes that he is a generous guy. Bruce defends himself by saying he is not cheap, he just has principles. “It’s just ridiculous. I’m supporting these guys and getting nothing back? Well, I’m not going to support them.” Amen.

So, maybe this is a good room to write. It certainly allows for some quality people watching. And, considering I am in the parking lot of a strip mall, it does seem to have a “neighborhood” feel to it. One women, who looked familiar but I couldn’t quite place, was chatting with a couple of the baristas telling one, “hey, you must be doing alright and staying out of trouble. I haven’t seen you’re name in the paper in a while.” He smiled sheepishly saying he’s been doing “real good.” She left with a “keep up the good work! See you all tomorrow. It wasn’t until another regular walked in, who also looked very familiar to me, that I realized both he and the women used to go to my gym down the road. As I was getting ready to leave, another couple of men overheard Bruce and DKF talking. Bruce was talking about the fresh mussels and clams he gets from a local grocery store and how he prepares them. The other two (one in a button down shirt and tie, the other in dirty jeans and t-shirt), wanted to know if they were fresh and they talked recipes for a while. Bruce had to cut the conversation short but not before they all agreed they’d be back next Wednesday.

Maybe all I really need is a room with a quirky coffee crowd.

An Ode to Junk

We've been closely watching the news on the bombs in India. As far as we know, everyone we know in Bangalore is safe and sound but some of the areas where the bombs went off were well traveled areas by Sir, Ma'am and our old friend Chandan. It's a bit surprising (in a good way) that not more people were killed or injured considering the normal chaos of the streets. It's not surprising (in a bad way) that they didn't catch the bombs before they exploded. While almost every place had "metal detectors" and people checking bags, it would be an exaggeration to say they were lazy searchers. Occasionally, when going to the Leela for the Thursday OWC coffees, they would check under the car with a mirror for bombs but I'm pretty sure, had I really wanted, I could've slipped one by the guards. It always made me feel more comfortable knowing that they weren't all that concerned. Growing up without ever having a key to our house, I adopted a suburban attitude toward crime in Bangalore. Nothing bad happens in this mellow, increasingly cosmopolitan Southern Indian city. We were too far South to be effected by any tension with Pakistan and Hindus and Muslims mingled as if they they were cousins, not enemies. But I guess you can never be too safe. No matter where you live.

Best just to live in the moment. That's what all the latest self-help books are preaching these days anyway, right? Isn't that what the late Randy Pausch (of "last lecture" fame) was trying so desperately to get us all to realize? The Power of Now has reached all star status with the Oprah crowd and has been on the bestseller list for months. I haven't actually read it, but I think I get the gist. Don't get bogged down in the coulda, shoulda, wouldas and stop thinking about what's going to happen tomorrow, in a month or in the next five years.

But if I'm going to start living in the "now," does that mean I have to get rid of all that is from "then"? Can I live in "the moment" despite the fact that I am surrounded by things outside of the moment? I suppose it's always good to consolidate but this is where I struggle and will argue that the cards are stacked against me. It's in my genes. I'm a saver.

We had an exciting weekend what with the film crew that descended upon our modest raised ranch. My brother and his friends decided that my parent's house/neighborhood was the perfect setting for their comedy "Sweatpants" about some loser (probably in his early 30s), who still lives at home with his parents (HUGE loser!), and bums around with another guy who fancies himself as quite The Man. Oh, the hijinks they get into...in one scene, they were looking to set up a tag sale. My father goes into the garage and 15 minutes later has a couple of tables displaying the following: a typewriter circa 1965, lawn darts circa 1973, a wax dwarf/gnome/elf, roller blades (only one pair as the second pair literally disintegrated in his hands), some bowls, an old bike, rusty golf clubs and plastic track ball handles (shaped like jai alai rackets). If they had asked, I'm sure he could've come up with another table full of classics. And boy, didn't he feel like a superstar when he finally got to explain to my mother that all this stuff is really useful. There is a reason we save: you never know. We might need to come up with an impromptu movie set again someday. Or I might get the urge to file paper through an old school typewriter and see my words immediately in ink. But probably not. Then again, you never know.

So if he is saving all this stuff, how do I ever stand a chance of living minimally, parting with items that I no longer use regularly? On the other hand, what difference does it make? I don't think a cluttered garage prohibits active living. Sure it may make things messy and it may not serve an immediate use, but it doesn't diminish the "power of now" unless you let it. All that stuff does not bury me, keeping me from being, as Oprah says, truly present. Maybe living in the moment is so simple that there's no need to really think about it. I am living. I am writing. I am enjoying writing in this moment. Simple. And if a bomb goes off or there is a home invasion, perhaps all my stuff with insulate me from real harm. Perhaps the perpetrators will be so grossed out by things disintegrating in their hands that they will run the opposite way. Perhaps the wax dwarf/gnome/elf will be the only casualty of a tragic bomb explosion.

There was an article in The New York Times about the death of the cassette tape. I missed the funeral. I know they are not coming back, but still I will keep them. You never know.

Here's to Your Health

By noon today I had learned three new things:
1. Instead of using shaving cream to shave your legs, use your hair conditioner. It leaves legs soft and smooth and costs less (provided you don't use those fancy salon brands).
2. Keep cheese wrapped in aluminum foil instead of plastic. It keeps longer.
3. The new buzzword(s) in education is "21st century skills."

I had an interview today for a teaching position in Redding, CT. While I was waiting, the secretary was sharing all sorts of tidbits. All I remember was the shaving cream and cheese.

Anyway, after some chit chat about Bangalore, the Principal of the school started with "21st century skills: what does that mean to you?" I started going on about video games, over-medicated kids and pets and Obama as the Anti-Christ and finished with how it doesn't matter because the Mayans say the world is going to end in four years anyway. Education is all about the buzzwords: differentiated instructed, student-centered learning, age appropriate, higher order thinking, phantom tracking, collaborative learning, teaching to the test. Oh yes, my friends, we covered them all. How could they NOT hire me?

But really, the education of our nation's children should not be top priority for the Oprah set today. We have much bigger things to worry about like our granite counter tops. They could be emitting toxic radon gas. Most granite has some level of uranium which apparently is the lead culprit. Of course, the likelihood is probably pretty small but more and more people have been calling the EPA with high reading in recent months so we better make it a lead story in the newspapers.

If it's not the radon that kills you, it could be your jalapeño peppers. The tomato has been vindicated, at long last. Mexico, however, is still in the line of fire. You can enjoy your salsa, just make sure it's sans the hot stuff.

Whatever you do, do NOT pick up that cell phone to call your friends and warn them. Dr. Ronald B. Herberman, the director of the University of Pittsburgh Cancer Institute, warns that while the exact relationship between cell phones and cancer isn't entirely clear, there is a link and we should heed caution.

But don't go thinking you can just throw the phone away and head for the beach. While your SPF 50+ may be preventing skin cancer, some of the chemicals in the gooey white stuff might be harming your insides. Again, the risk is unclear but take comfort in the fact that "they" don't really know either way.

You could try to drink plenty of water to cleanse your system but don't bother tipping your glass if you are simply trying to remain hydrated and regular. That whole, eight glasses a day, for better health and optimum hydration is hogwash. Any sort of liquid or even watery fruit will do the trick.

Better to use water to "cleanse your system" then the trendy colonic. There is no evidence that your colon is "dirty" and that the procedure does you any good.

If you want to feel good about yourself, just go for the botox. All the popular brides and bridesmaids are doing it. Now in addition to the traditional mani, pedi and hair appointments, bridezilla and co. are opting for the full spa treatment. Botox is no longer for the Centrum Silver crowd I guess.

Here's to your health.

Writer's Block

It's gotten me. Writer's block. Maybe it's because I am trying too hard to figure out when the most important day of my life was (I'm entering a Real Simple essay contest. The topic is the most important day of your life.); or maybe it's because I am trying too hard to figure out what I really want to do with my life; or maybe it's because there is nothing all that interesting happening.

Obama went to Iraq. Says everyone is on board for a 2010 pull out. It’s July 2008. The election isn’t until November and after that, who knows. I don’t see this as worthy of much more speculation. McCain, in Kennebunkport visiting G.H.W. Bush, seemingly wanted some of the spotlight and started talking about the war too. Doesn’t sound like he said much more than the 2010 may or may not be a good target and how an awkward Obama is fumbling his way across the Middle East in the delicate dance of foreign policy. Yawn.

We went to see The Dark Knight last night. If there is a recession going on, you wouldn't know it going to a Monday night movie. The theater was packed with teens and tweens, couples, and even families all consuming industrial sized snacks. It's a good thing there is stadium seating with oversized chairs. But I suppose they are trying to save us money where they can. "I'll have a medium popcorn."
"For 75 cents more, you can have a large."
"Oh, so that's how it works. I pay more and then I get more? That's like, genius."
There were only about 3 cell phones that I heard go off - though, they had the volume so high, I'm sure there were others I missed. And there was only one screaming child. Who brings a two year old to a scary, long movie at 7:30 PM? But the interruptions did not take away from the movie. Not even the clapping and cheering at the end. Why the clapping? The actors, directors and producers can't hear them. I'm not one for comic books but I recommend. Two thumbs up. Eerie, action packed, and very good.

Marion Jones is seeking a Presidential pardon for lying to Federal Prosecutors and some check fraud scam. She asking for a commutation which is a reduction or elimination of her sentence. Is it wrong to say she seems sorry so why not? I don't know much about the check fraud but shouldn't she at least be given some consolation for finally coming clean and telling the truth? Isn't giving up all those medals, after dedicating your life to earning them, punishment enough? And especially when I'm sure she's not the first to have lied about using performance-enhancing drugs, doesn't it send a better message to say, "see kids, telling the truth ultimately is the best thing to do in any situation, under any circumstances? But what do I know.

Oh, and how about Radovan Karadzic...the former Bosnian Serb President who has been running around as a free man pretending he was not responsible for the massacre of thousands of men, women and children during the Bosnian war. Imagine all those people who have had meaningless exchanges with the heavily bearded old guy never knowing he is a monster war criminal. I can't decided if just disguising yourself in a country where you are one of the most wanted is brilliant or just really dumb. Obviously, it had been working for him for quite some time but didn't he realize it was just a matter of time?

These hazy, lazy days of summer haven't left me with much else.

Still accepting ideas for new blog title...

Wanted: Funny President

It seems, if there were a job description for the office of the Presidency, it might look something like this:

Position: Leader of the Free World
Industry: Politics
Salary: Approx. $400,000 (plus expense accounts)
Benefits: Private jet, body guards for you and family, house staff, and an all expense paid, big, white house, interns
Job Duration: 4 years (with the possibility of an additional 4 years provided you come across as likable and funny).
Job Location: Washington, D.C. (or where ever you may have a second ranch or home)
Job Requirements: Serve as Chief Executive of the United States. Must have excellent knowledge of political, economic, social and foreign affairs. Candidate must have sense of humor, be trustworthy and honest. Candidate must have excellent oral and written communication skills. Must have sense of humor. Candidate must be detail oriented, have a sense of humor and be able to multi-task. Candidate must be smart and funny.
Preferred Qualifications: Good looking, white males preferred. A passion for the United States a plus. Married Protestants between the ages of 45-65 ideal. Spouses should also have sense of humor.

Do you see where I am going with all this? Was the cartoon printed on The New Yorker out of line or do we all (read: the Obama's) just need to relax and accept that it was a satirical cartoon? Editor, David Remnick, defended the drawing saying the point of satire is to mocking something to show just how absurd it really is. Was depicting the Obama's as Muslim-loving, Americabashing, terrorists truly offensive or are we just over sensitive about coming off as racist? Showing a "what they said" type of solidarity, the good ol' white boys in McCain's camp "completely" agreed with Obama's campaign that the cartoon was "tasteless." Would we be laughing if it showed Hilary Clinton dressed in a mini skirt courting Prime Minister Olmert? Or might she and her campaign find that sexist? But no matter. The recent brouhaha over the questionably distasteful cartoon only seems to have fueled the fire that we have a candidate who is making it difficult for the writers of Saturday Night Live, Comedy Central, and late night talk shows. Why are we so upset we can't make fun of Obama?

I get that it would make him seem more "like us" and not so perfect. I get that he wouldn't seem so stiff and "other worldly." Maybe he does need to lighten up more. In world where we are still fighting tribal wars, drug wars, gang wars, wars on poverty, wars on terrorism, wars on obesity, we need a little funny. We need alot of funny. But we live in an increasingly global world, where people take religion and patriotism very seriously and, we live in a country where Jim Crow scars are still visible. Maybe we need to really think about how we define racism, sarcasm and comedy. But can we really fault Obama for having "nothing buffoonish about him," as Mike Barry, a former joke writer for Johnny Carson, so eloquently pointed out? Is this what we are now looking for in a President? Someone we can make fun of? After eight years of laughing at our leadership, haven't we had enough?

Maureen Dowd's column yesterday ended with, "if Obama gets elected and there is nothing funny about him, it won’t be the economy that’s depressed. It will be the rest of us." I'd like to think that I can lay off the Prozac even if the leader of my country is not joking his way out of an affair with an intern or to get the troops out of Iraq. Don't get me wrong; I like funny. I embrace funny. I think funny can go a long way in healing much that is broken. But funny doesn't make my car go, funny doesn't patch holes in the ozone and funny isn't part of my PPO health plan. So while yes, it would be nice to see Obama make a wry quip or sassy joke every now and again, and maybe, just maybe, fake a laugh when people try to mock him, come November 4, funny will not win my vote.

We're being duped.

All of us - you, me, Fido - everyday. The good news is, we can try to fight it. The bad news is, it is not an easy battle.

I read two articles yesterday that were equally disturbing and yet somewhat reassuring. What was disturbing is that to some degree, we are all being played like Pinocchio by Geppetto. What was reassuring is that in some cases, maybe that's not so bad.

It's advertisers, or rather, the advertising industry. The first article in The New York Times, was about an anthropologist, Dr. Curtis, who had done work in Africa and began a campaign to get villagers to wash their hands to help save them from preventable deaths caused by common germs. What was interesting was her approach. She went to the three of the largest consumer corporations and asked for their help in changing the habits of millions of Africans the way they have done for millions of Americans. "Through experiments and observation, social scientists like Dr. Berning have learned that there is power in tying certain behaviors to habitual cues through relentless advertising." Did you remember to brush and floss with Crest this morning? Advertisers insist this is not some twisted form of manipulation but rather improving the quality of life, as Dr. Curtis is trying to do so in Africa. I agree with all of this. I don't want to see the dentist anymore than I have to. The article also points out that changing peoples' behaviors is not an easy task and cites examples about anti-drug and safe-sex campaigns that had the opposite effect. But unlike Dr. Curtis whose altruistic endeavor is to be commended, I'm not sure large advertising corporations are necessarily looking out for our best interests, especially if that might conflict with revenue.

The more you sell, the more money you make. So I buy my body enhancing shampoo and conditioner but then have to buy a styling gel or mousse to prevent it from becoming too frizzy or full. I have to buy my facial moisturizer to keep those nasty wrinkles at bay but then have to be sure to get the cleanser for oily skin to be sure my moisturizer hasn't clogged my pours. I have to wear mascara to stay pretty but need an eye make-up remover to get rid of it because, I think I read somewhere, very bad things will happen if I actually sleep with my mascara still on. I have to buy soap scum remover and mildew remover and rubber gloves to keep my hands from getting too dry, unless I want to buy the most expensive, ultra moisturizer hand lotion.

Companies are spending inordinate amounts of time and money working with researchers in studying how we think and behave. The articles uses the example of Febreeze. The original concept for selling the air-freshener was to rid clothes of smells associated with a long night out in a smokey bar. But it wasn't selling. People forgot it under there sinks or in their closets and bad sales threatened to destroy the product. But, “We learned from consumer interviews that there was an opportunity to cue the clean smell of Febreze to a clean room,” Dr. Berning said (a Proctor and Gamble psychologist). “We positioned it as the finishing touch to a mundane chore. It’s the icing that shows you did a good job.” Isn't too much icing making us fat?

So I finished the article feeling manipulated, thinking about all the things I buy that I really don't need or simply use because they are convenient. Then I thought about 5 young African children not dying from diarrhea because they were manipulated into a hand washing habit and realized that sometime the icing is just to good to resist.

But then I was disturbed again by the headline: "Pill-popping Pets."

Talk about the power of advertising. Now when you stop at the local CVS to pick up your Prozac, you can pick up a bottle for your yellow lab, Fido, too (or Mittens the kitten). The article was in this weekend's New York Times Magazine and made a case for schizophrenic cats and obsessive compulsive dogs and claims that "An estimated 14 percent or more of American dogs have separation anxiety." One couple sought treatment for their dog, Rocco, who they locked in a cage while they were at work so he wouldn't run wild. After he destroyed pillows and the cage, they locked him in the bathroom where he destroyed the shower curtain and ate shampoo. They tried to confine him with a baby gate and he tore up the rug. So, they took him to the doctor who diagnosed him with separation anxiety and wrote him a prescription. And wouldn't you know it, haven't had a problem since. I'm no vet, but this sounds less like separation anxiety and more like, "why-the-hell-do-you-keep-locking-me-up-from-8AM-to-6PM? I-have-to-pee" anxiety.

The article paints both the positives - Mittens no longer tears up the couch! - and the negatives - now she is just lethargic and mopey. Some vets realize that medication simply provides a quick and easy solution for owners while others insist that these pets have deep-rooted and real genetic disorders that require medication. Some vets are against medication and insist there is not pet mental health crisis, while others feel we are lucky that in this day and age we can finally help pets who decades earlier might have been put to sleep.

Perhaps this will lead to great insights about how human and animal minds are related and we'll finally see a cure for Alzheimer's and bipolar disorder. But, ok, I will play the cynic; I don't think so. This is all just more about advertisers and drug companies pulling our puppet strings. You can have the white picket fence with two well-behaved children playing Nintendo with Lassie calmly watching beside them; just keep hiding the Ritalin in the PB & J's and dog chow. You don't have time for obedience school. You have to get to the store and buy things you didn't even realize you needed. Make your life easier, just give Mittens a pill. After a long commute that burned all your hard earned cash in fuel, you don't want to come home to torn pillows and couches, just give Lassie a pill. Pills save lives. They don't need fresh air and home grown fruits and veggies. Those don't cost anything. I'm sure Pfizer's not complaining. After all, the correction printed at the bottom of the article clearly states: "The cover article...misstates the revenues Pfizer Animal Health has earned from animal medications. The total for this division, which includes livestock, is $2.6 billion, not “nearly $1 billion.” Its “companion animals,” or pet division, contributed nearly $1 billion to this total." One billion. I wonder what their shrinks are taking home.

The Evils of Hot Dogs and Other Lessons Learned Over the Holiday Weekend

I'm not sure how you spent your fourth of July but if you were one of the lucky ones, you found time to catch the Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Contest on ESPN. From the nation that invented "Super-sizing it," we bring you, a contest to see who can eat the most hot dogs in the shortest amount of time. According the the International Federation of Competative Eaters (IFOCE), "The dominant event of the year -- and indeed the dominant event in the sport as it is practiced internationally -- is the Nathan's Famous Fourth of July Hot Dog Eating Contest, which has stood as the de facto Olympics of the sport and as a litmus test of patriotism for eaters of all nations." So not to worry fellow Americans, we are not the only ones who have embraced eating as a sport but we can brag that our country hosts the "Olympics" of the sport. London 2012! (Just in time for the end of the world.)

For those of you who missed it, Joey Chesnut (yes, I believe this is his real name) beat Takeru Kobayashi in the first ever, overtime hot dog eat-off. It was intense. At no point, did it look like the competitors were having fun. It looked painful and really, just very silly. Joey Chesnut looked like he was going to lose his hot dogs at any minute. The crowd was huge. There was a designated "spray zone" right up front where you could proudly declare, "I got sprayed by Kobayashi's wet, hot dog bun." The announcers seemed to be taking their jobs very seriously even when they had to say things like, "it's just nice to see these guys go after the dogs like this." And, "well, you know Kobayashi had a bad jaw last year..." Really, is this what we've come to? Eating? As a sport? The IFOCE claims that competitive eating is one of the most demanding sports out there and one that requires great skill. I suppose it is a skill like any other but even the IFOCE says they are against any kind of at-home training because of the health risks. Doesn't this seem to discredit the "sport" a bit? Many say no. They insist that competitive eaters are gustatory athletes or gurgitators (I am not making this up) and are no different from Tiger Woods, Lance Armstrong or Michael Phelps.

In France, they are known as epicuriators. In France. Of all places. The nation that prides itself on good food, eaten slowly, in good company. The nation that frowns upon "fast food" and "lives to eat," is even a part of the IFOCE. I can understand that we Americans who thrive on excess and speed, would embrace this sport but the fact that it has a growing international presence is somewhat surprising. And if it were just some silly sport, I might feel less inclined to criticize but aren't we going through a food shortage crisis? Aren't there still starving children in India, Africa and the Bronx? The sixty four hot dogs and buns that Joey Chesnut ate in fifteen minutes, could've fed a small village for weeks. There were 20 competitors in all and twentieth place ate fourteen. There are competitive eating contests for all kinds of foods - chicken wings, asparagus, pizza, sushi, baked beans, pies, you name it. I'm all for fun and competition, but do we really need to celebrate those who can horde and consume massive quantities of food (while millions of others starve to death)? Why not have a contest to see who can give away the most food to those who need it most and celebrate that?

Next year, I am not watching to see if Kobayashi can take back the belt. End of rant.

It's a good thing I had a few days to relax at the beach after getting all worked up about the hot dogs. But it wasn't just relaxing, laughing and sleeping in an alcove with no doors. I learned a few things too:

• Chartreuse is not just some color in a Crayola crayon box. The crayon was so named after a French liqueur which is either Green Chartruese or Yellow Chartruese. It was described by some as tasting like lamp oil and others as pine needles. I thought it tasted more like a combination between mouth wash and grass. My father declared, "I forgot it was that good." It's a good thing my uncle keeps random half finished bottles of alcohol in the hollows of his basement (at least that's where he said he found the communal bottle).
• Horseshoe crabs do not sting or bite or cause any harm. They are more like the gardener snake of the ocean.
• Children like to get up early and yet are expected to take naps. How about just getting up a little later and skipping the nap?
• Barbies do nothing to promote healthy self images. You'd never catch Sporty Barbie shoving her face with obscene amounts of hot dogs.
  
• Cape Cod is no place for anyone who is not white, does not shop at J. Crew or has piercings or tatooes of any kind (unless they have something to do with the Red Sox or "beach life").
• The Cranberry Festival is bigger than July 4th (at least in Harwich). Our new friend Gwen, with whom we played a round of golf, said there are no fireworks on July 4, only during the Cranberry Festival in August or September.
• The Wii is probably the best video game console out there (but then again, I don't really play many video games). It can be highly addictive but I don't think promotes as much "exercise" as the Nintendo people would like you to believe. I don't think this is the answer to America's obesity epidemic.
• Much like a golf game, when you end on high, it's enough to keep you coming back. We'll be back a year from now to repeat the experience. After all, family time is fun time.

Family Vacation

People like routine. It helps us stay organized. It brings us a level of comfort and familiarity knowing that we know what to expect.

The other day my roommate and I were waiting to pick up her new glasses. While we were waiting for the gentlemen who was working to get off the phone, another older couple walked in. After the usual, "it's nice and cool in here" exchanges about the weather, they said they just wanted to ask when their glasses would be in. They were going on vacation next week. My roommate asks, "oh, where are you headed?" They were going to Lake George. They go every year.

Whether it's Lake George or Cape Cod or Virginia Beach, I think most people have a "usual" vacation destination. They may take another trip during the year, like to Disney World, but when the dog days hit, they pack up the car and set the autopilot - year after year. If you are like my family, you go during the same week and pack the same things and plan to do the same things. You leave at 4 AM because of the Godforsaken traffic. No need to check channel 12 when you travel with the truckers. This is tradition - which is totally different from lacking any originality. We go to the same town on Cape Cod during the same week in July and until we grow out of it, rent the same cottage. I enjoy going but I wonder how I would feel if we went somewhere new and different every year. How would we know what to pack or where to stay?

But I guess it all depends on how you define family vacation. For some of us, it means cramming thirteen people into a four bedroom cottage where you have to clean your own dishes and make your own bed (if you are lucky enough to get an actual bed). It means going to a seaweedy beach with brownish murky water and waiting an hour at a restaurant with the Lily Pulitzer set before getting a table. It means sitting around staring at each other when the rain comes wondering what to do with the day and paying ten dollars for two scoops of ice cream. You see, family vacation and vacation, are two totally different beasts (like hot chocolate and frozen margaritas). And there is something comforting about hot chocolate.

But the best part about vacation is you don't have to work. (Or, for those of us who are allergic to those sorts of things anyway, it means our loved ones don't have to work either.) Unless of course, you are the AT&T Wireless tech guy and some schmuck just has to have his precious internet connection fixed on America's birthday. It's not even like it's really broken. It just disconnects every now and again like you are in India. We live in America. We do not stand for intermittent internet connections. But not to worry, he's coming between 10 and 12 so he'll have plenty of time to get to the mall and take advantage of the Macy's sales. For a country that is so obsessed with moving and working and getting ahead, you'd think we'd be leading the world's economy - not dragging it down. Those Europeans get 30 days of vacation time and yet the dollar is chump change compared to the Euro. What would Uncle Sam say?

Happy holiday.

I Need a New Title

For the blog of course.

I'm open to suggestions. Anyone? Any of the three of you have any suggestions? I don't really have a "theme" to it anymore so I'm not sure what would really suit it.

Big holiday week. Our mailbox has been stuffed with fliers selling fireworks. For $199 you can get Red Beard's Revenge Assortment or if you prefer.the King of Bling Fountain..The guy across the street has certainly been taking advantage of the coupons. He's been setting them off at all hours of the day and night, like a large Indian boy on the eve of Diwali (the festival of lights celebrated in November). But I do think unlike most modern American holidays, the fourth of July hasn't really lost it meaning. I don't think anyone has gone and taken the independence out of Independence Day. After all, the "Phantom Fireworks" flier encourages me to buy "For a BRIGHTER, LOUDER America!" If that ain't independence than call me a Loyalist.

But much like on Memorial Day, the upcoming celebration of our nations independence has got me thinking more and more about Iraq. After all, isn't how this whole thing started - to give them their independence (as if by virtue of living in Munchkinland, we can give away lullabies and lollipops to the wicked witch of the Middle East)? Or wait, no, it was those pesky WMDs with the power of invisibility (VERY dangerous). I must admit, in terms of articles or news segments to which I pay particularly close attention, the war in Iraq falls somewhere on the bottom of my list. It's not that I don't care or don't support the troops, it's just that everything I do read seems so hopeless. Whether it's US soldiers returning home with PTSD and getting themselves arrested or at the very least, giving them sleepless nights, or Iraqi soldiers not getting the support they need from their government, it just seems like the whole nation and is irreparably broken. And I don't think pulling out tomorrow and closing that chapter in American history is the answer. But I don't think staying in for another year or two or ten until...the free, happy Iraqi capitalists are celebrating July 4th. (I mean, if we never got our independence from Britain and built a government on the principle of all men are created equal and entitled to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, then we never would've been able to fix Iraq and save them from that awful he-who-shall-remain-nameless dictator.)

It's not for lack of news on Iraq that I am so uninformed but rather my own independent choice to read and watch what I want. I say I support the troops, though I'm not sure how exactly, other than empty words. But I guess I've never really been clear on what it is, exactly, we are fighting. I am grateful that the soldiers have chosen to serve my country and do think it is honorable and brave, but how has the war in Iraq really served my country? For that matter, how has it served Iraq? Are they really any better off? I'm sure any number of eager politicians would love to give me some answers but those aren't the answers I'm really looking for. The thing is, I don't think there are any answers. There seem to be lots of questions, lots of blame, lots of mistakes but very few answers.

Maybe the answers will come to me in Red Beard's Revenge Assortment? (Note: these could have been the same words spoken by Dubya circa July 2003.)