LET'S MAKE A DEAL - OR HOW TO BEAT THE POST CHRISTMAS RETURN RUSH

So how was your Christmas or whatever it is you celebrate at this time of the year? Did you get everything you wanted? Lots of returns? Did the special someone in your life buy you cologne that gives new meaning to the term eau du toilette?

Here in Canada the day following Christmas Day is the one day of the year feared by retail sales clerks accross this great land of the maple leaf known by Canadians everywhere as Boxing Day. In fact there are probably clock-watching sales clerks biting their nails and counting down the hours and minutes until store opening time. They know that the minute the doors to their stores open up, they will be assailed with return items. This is "the" day where your bill of purchase will get you the gift you really wanted.

The line ups at the cash are monumentous and some electronic stores feature ridiculous specials at ridiculous prices with people lining up the night before to take advantage of the bargains. The parking lots turn into zoos and it's not unusual for shoppers walking to pick up their cars to be followed by a lengthy cortege of ve-hi-cles waiting to grab a prime spot. A prime spot is anywhere within a 2 minute walk to a mall entrance. We're also talking here about a four-way-confrontation and a game of "chicken" between cars to grab prime spots, not to mention "let's-sound-our-horns-as-loud-as-possible-to-show-how-tough-we-are" ploy.

In the way of background information according to the Heritage Canada site, http://www.pch.gc.ca/progs/cpsc-ccsp/jfa-ha/boxing_e.cfm "The day after Christmas, the Feast of St. Stephen, the first Christian martyr, is better known as Boxing Day. The term may come from the opening of church poor boxes that day; maybe from the earthenware boxes with which boy apprentices collected money at the doors of their masters' clients. Nowadays, we often see, in certain families, gifts (boxes) given to those who provide services throughout the year."

Another source, Wikipedia, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boxing_Day provides this information: "Commonwealth observance: Boxing Day in the UK is traditionally a day for sporting activity, originally fox hunting, but in modern times football and horse racing. Boxing Day (in French, lendemain de Noël day after Christmas) is also observed as a public holiday in Commonwealth countries, and is a day when stores sell their excess Christmas inventory at significantly reduced prices. Boxing Day has become so important for retailers that they often extend it into a "Boxing Week". This occurs similarly in Australia and New Zealand, although some Australian states, including New South Wales are tightening restrictions on Boxing Day retail trading[2], deferring the post-Christmas sales to December 27. In Australia, a test match starting on December 26th is called the Boxing Day Test Match, and is played at the Melbourne Cricket Ground before, what is typically, the largest crowd of the summer. The Sydney to Hobart Yacht Race is also started on this day.In Northern Ireland, all Premier League clubs in soccer-football play their biggest rivals. The most popular one is Glentoran v. Linfield, between the two biggest clubs in the country.European observance:Boxing Day is a holiday of peculiarly British origin, but in most years it falls on the same day as the Feast of St. Stephen (St. Stephen's Day - 26th December).In Austria, Denmark, Finland, Germany, Hungary, the Netherlands, Norway, Iceland, Poland, Slovakia, and Sweden, the 26th is known as the Second day of Christmas (der zweite Weihnachtsfeiertag in Germany; Annandag Jul in Sweden; Andre Juledag in Norway; Tweede Kerstdag in the Netherlands; Annar dagur jóla in Iceland; Tapaninpäivä (St. Stephen's Day) in Finland; Karácsony másnapja in Hungary) and is also a public holiday.In Ireland, the 26th December is known as St Stephen's Day, or Wren's Day; in Austria it is called Stefanitag, in Italy Santo Stefano; in Wales, it is known as Gŵyl San Steffan (St. Stephen's Holiday). In Catalonia, this day is known as Sant Esteve, Catalan for St. Stephen. A practice known as Hunt the Wren is still practiced by some in the Isle of Man, where people thrash out wrens from hedgerows. Traditionally they were killed and their feathers presented to households for good luck. In Ireland, children used to kill a wren, then take its body from door-to-door, begging for money which they would use (supposedly) to pay for the bird's funeral. In Germany the days between Christmas and new year are called "the days between the years" (zwischen den Jahren) and becoming more and more important for retailers to clear the unsold Christmas goods.Canadian observanceIn Canada, Boxing Day is observed as a holiday, except for those in the retail business. Boxing Day and the days immediately following are when many retail stores sell their Christmas and retired model products by holding clearance sales. Some shoppers will line up for hours at night (sometimes before midnight and after midnight on December 26) for retailers to open their doors. Except in Quebec, Retailers often open their stores earlier than usual, such as 6 or 7 am. Some retail companies internally refer to the sales week after Christmas as the "thirteenth month." (See Boxing Week.) It is similar to Black Friday (the day after Thanksgiving) in the United States. Boxing Day 2005 was the single largest economic transaction day ever in the history of Canadian commerce (according to Visa). Individual big box stores can even gross over $1,000,000(CAN) on one single boxing day. However, in a few cities retail stores are still not permitted to open on Boxing Day because of municipal regulations; in those cities, Boxing Day sales begin on December 27."

Personally, I think that Boxing Day got its name from people trying to secure a place in line at the return counter.

Rather than fight the crowds a better or more efficient idea would be to do a gift exchange with people standing in the return line.

"Attention everyone in line!" a return-ee might yell out. "I have a beautiful wool-like scarf with a red snowman motif, which I'm willing to part with for a pair of mitts. Anyone?"

"I might be interested," someone else could yell out. "How about trading it for a pair of hand-knit-by-my-mother-in-laws-own-hands wool gloves with two extra fingers on the right hand?"

At least it will help pass the time if nothing else plus there's the added benefit of having one less gift to give for the next year. Did I mention I have a pair of glow-in-the-dark earrings bought by an acquaintance while vacationing in Roswell? Do we have a deal? Please?

CHRISTMAS SONGS WITH A DIFFERENCE

Getting tum-tum-tum-tum'd-out doing last minute Christmas - ooops - that should read holiday shopping? Feeling more than a little jingle-bell-rock'd fighting the crowd for last-minute electronic specials? It all gets a little too much some times given that the sounds of Christmas begin their rotation over-and-over the mall sound systems right after Halloween. Interesting thought that nobody has gone politically correct over this holiday. Happy Halloween is Happy Halloween, period.

For a change of pace - and a smile - I came accross some adaptations of well-known Christmas songs with some interesting lyrics . Sing 'em out loud! Merry Christmas...Seasons Greetings...whatever.

AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH - in carol form
(sung to Let It Snow)

Oh the weather outside is warming
And consensus, it is forming
It's time for Al Gore's refrain:
Let it rain, let it rain, let it rain.
The polar ice caps are shrink-ing
And the polar bears are sink-ing
It's 80 degrees in Maine
Let it rain, let it rain, let it rain.
When it finally gets too hot
The oceans will sweep us a-way
But if you say that they will not-
There's work in the Bush EPA!
Though the glaciers are getting goopy
And the tundra's chicken sou-py
In my Hummer I can't complain
Let it rain, let it rain, let it rain.

O' KFC - the Transfat Song
(sung to Oh Christmas Tree)

Oh KFC, oh KFC
How trans-fat free your chick-en!
You saw that you
Filled veins with glue
And watched as hearts stopped tick-in.
But now that you're a healthy franch
Your customers don't buy the ranch
Oh KFC, oh KFC,
We're liking what we're licking!

Cruise control
(sung to the tune of I'll Be Home for Christmas, before the recent nuptials)
I'll wed Holmes by Christmas
You can count on me
Then folks will say,
"He's not gay
He's straight as straight can be."
Christmas Eve will find me
Oh so heter-o
I'll be straight by Christmas
As far as you will know.

RESOLVING TO REMEMBER IN THE NEW YEAR

So…what’s your password? Or to re-phrase it: what are your passwords? It’s a good question for lots of people these days especially when a large portion of bills are paid through Internet on-line banking. Factor in those pesky e-mail passwords and there’s a lot of data to remember.

Logically, the easiest solution would be to use the same password for everything but that would be too simple. Given the plethora of scams around these days many of us create different passwords to ensure that nobody can access our private business. Not even us. Neither are they written down anywhere as a protection measure in case somebody breaks into the house and just happens upon them. This means having to rely strictly on memory. Not a good idea.

Depending on the nature of the subject there’s that lengthy period of guessing while attempting to narrow down the word through word association. For example, electricity equals light, which in turn may or could be ‘power.’ After a lengthy period of ‘guess-the-word,’ the term “incorrect password” takes on a new meaning. It’s akin to swatting a pesky fly in the dark.

Having to request a new password is an admission that we’re victims of the aging process and the various e-mail providers and sites requiring passwords want to help us out. “Lost your password?” or “can’t remember your password?” or “re-set your password?” are some of the more common and helpful phrases. Can’t speak for others but there’s something defeatist bordering on taunting in having to send back an electronic message that we need a memory jogger - again.

According to WikiHow ( http://www.wikihow.com/Improve-Your-Memory) a sub-section of Wikipedia, there are certain steps that can be taken to improve our memories. One of their suggestions, which is already part of my lifestyle is to keep the brain active by developing memory skills like crossword puzzles. As a regular fan of the New York Times crossword puzzle I'm a whiz at solving the grid on Mondays and Tuesdays, sometimes on Wednesdays and some Thursdays but on Fridays - forgetaboutit! But then I have the Internet to help fill in the blanks and I don't even need a password! Other suggestions include regular exercise, healthy diet and to repeat things to ourselves that we want to remember. This could prove to be embarassing when meeting an old friend who could be addressed by an old password instead of their proper name.

"Why hello there, theatre-lover thespian. Long time no see!" a person could blurt out.

It couldn't be an accident that car manufacturers have included a button on the key pad to enable owners to find their car and there is an increasing amount of electronic gadgets on the market to help baby boomers remember things. Okay. I will admit to using it. It's easier than going through an entire parking lot checking the license plates!

Meanwhile, my New Year's resolution is to remember my passwords, whatever they are.


Some sites worth visiting with memory tips:

e-how
http://www.ehow.com/how_3824_improve-memory.html

epinet.org (offers 20 quick ideas that successful people use)
http://www.epinet.org.au/epinet2003/info/improve.html

How To Keep Your Mind Sharp
http://edition.cnn.com/HEALTH/library/HA/00001.html

TIME MAGAZINE NAMES ME PERSON OF THE YEAR

After years of freelance writing someone - and a really big someone - has finally acknowledged my presence. I'm talking here about TIME magazine naming me "Person of the Year." Actually, I've always known that I was a good writer but now a prestigeous magazine has confirmed what I've always known: I'm a damned good writer!

I'm assuming that the powers-that-be who work at the publication have been reading and following my output, which includes articles on gardening how-to, bathroom commentary, rants about life in general, my plays and my progress in attempting to get them produced, pets, humor pieces...

I mean, how else could they recognize writing genius when they read it?

Actually, everyone who has ever surfed the Internet and posted something on the information highway is being acknowledged. This includes sites that purport the content is written by cats and/or dogs and/or birds.

This long overdue personal recognition now means that I can add this accomplishment to my CV. For sure it will make a difference when an editor or publisher reads a submitted article.

"Oh!" the editor will say out loud or to himself. "For sure I'm going to use this writer's work after receiving this prestigious award. And Time magazine no less."

It will also make a big difference as to whether one of my plays will be produced.

"Look at this," a BS (big shot) theatre producer will say during a session of selecting plays for their upcoming season. "This playwright must have something special if Time has chosen her as Person of the Year. Put this in the "maybe" file."

I don't want to appear mercenary or anything but I'm wondering if there's any monetary compensation that goes along with the award. If so and given the number of people who are surfing around the world who join me in this honor, hopefully the magazine has a big budget. A really big budget.

Meanwhile I'm preparing myself for the onslaught of offers to publish that is sure to follow. Just sign me...

Eleanor Tylbor
Time Person of the Year

WHAT ARE YOU THANKFUL FOR?

Got any good news to share? We're not talking here about heroic rescues that make the headlines but plain, ordinary "acts of kindness" that happen to ordinary people. There is a tendency for people to focus on the negative events broadcast on both the electronic and print media and comparatively speaking, the basic and simple acts don't make the news.

The Writers & Friends forum - www.jrslater.com/forum - has set up a "Thankfulness" string where people can share good news. It doesn't have to be a headline-grabbing story because that's not what life is about. It's about the small gestures we do, which are buried on the back pages of newspapers or never make the TV newscasts that make a difference.

Consider this a personal invitation to drop by to make a "Thankfulness" or "Good News" contribution and let's see how many "acts of kindness," "good news" and positive stories that we can share from all over our planet.

So - got any good news and what are YOU thankful for, today?

THE DOG FROM HELL

It starts out innocently enough with a couple of "arf-arf's" and a wag of a fluffy tail but don't be fooled by its innocuous exterior. It's the dog from hell.

Ayeeeeee!

My granddaughter paid a visit this weekend and brought along a dog. Not a real living dog but with the aid of umpteen batteries she led it in the house on a leash.

“How cute!” were the first words to come out of my mouth as it whisked by my feet. “What’s its name?”Although she told me repeatedly becoming more impatient each time this question was asked, somehow it never registered. As I recall it was a one-syllable name.
Peek...Teek... Pim... Something like that. However, this beast with vinyl fur should be called “The hound from hell.”

Visually, the pooch is a picture of innocence with long shaggy fur covering its entire body and face. It sort-of shuffles around the room while walking into walls and furniture and then backs away. In as far as kids are concerned its real value is that it barks...and barks...and barks...and that's the problem. This canine definitely has devilish leanings.

“Listen up – forget about creating all that mayhem up on earth,” the horned one with the long tail could have told his minions. “I’ve got something here that’ll drive them all nuts and we won’t hav’ta lift a finger!”

And so the ‘white-dog-from-hell’ was unleashed on the world and toy market. It emits a somewhat muted bark that sounds like a dog afflicted with laryngitis and lifts up its head to be heard. The first fifty “arf-arf…arf-arf” is tolerable but subsequent ‘arfs’ begin to grate on the nerves, like nails on a chalk board moving in the wrong direction.

It’s the white-dog-from-hell! Ayeeeeeee… Run while you still have a chance and a clear head.

“Turn the dog off, please” is the first reaction followed by subsequent “will you turn your friend off?” and then “turn that dog off!” and finally the threat, “if you don’t turn that thing off I’ll…I’ll…” It’s a plot perpetrated by the creators to create bark level that will drive adults insane.“Do you hear this?” manufacturers must have asked innocent participants in their tests, to assess the right pitch for adult ears. They knew they had reached the right level when the participants begged for mercy, “no – not the white dog! Anything but not the white dog!”

I’m just wondering if the military is aware of its existence.

Today -Walmart. Tomorrow – the world.

www.jrslater.com/forum

HAPPY BIRITHDAY FRIK, FRAK, GOLDIE...WHOEVER

Birthdays are traditionally marked with a celebration replete with cake and candles to mark the number of years we’ve been on this planet. What about pet fish?

Chances are right now you're wondering why anyone would or should care about whether or not fish birthdays should be recognized. The answer to that is: why not? It's not any more unusual than dog owners throwing a party for the pooch in their lives at upscale restaurants. A party for fish understandably, has more limitations.

Take Bubba, a Queensland grouper donated to the Shedd Aquarium in Chicago was believed to be the first fish to undergo chermotherapy. According to Wikipedia, Bubba, a female was donated to the aquariumin 1987 by an anonymous donor. However, Bubba being a protegynous hermaphrodite and all and perhaps bored being a female, decided to switch her gender in the mid 1990's. As a male Bubba grew to a substantial 154 pounds. A cancerous growth was discovered on her/his/Bubba's head in 2001 and the fish stayed cancer-free until 2003 when the growth returned. The fish died in 2006 due to health related problems and old age. One wonders - okay me - if anyone threw Bubba a birthday party.

Tropical fish and all fish in general should be able to celebrate their birthdays. The only issue marring this “liquid-asset” party is to determine when they were born. Fish as a rule don’t come equipped with birth certificates informing care-givers when and where they were spawned. Maybe “spawn-ers” should supply pet shops with pedi-fish papers as is the case with other pet breeds.

“This is to certify that 1 (one) black tetra was born in a river at some time in the Rio del Plata, and has hundreds of brothers and sisters who might have been hatched at the same time.”

Fish ownership can be personalized by giving them names but mistakes are sure to occur since fish seldom…rarely…never… respond when called. They do, however, rise to the occasion when they sense food is about to be served.

Speaking of food this is another problem when celebrating a truly piscatorial birthday. Traditional birthday cake and ice cream is out of the question. An extra serving of fish food for the watery gala can be a disaster and the celebrants could end up doing the side or back stroke.
The most logical solution is to acknowledge their existence by throwing a party on New Year’s Day, which marks the passing of another year. Even then how does one know how long they lived among their kind in the pet shop? Owners could be celebrating a first birthday when reality they could be seniors! Fish don’t get wrinkles or gray hair indicating they have reached the senior stage of their lives. Even then the cause of death is pure speculation since fish autopsies aren’t performed as a rule. Make that never.

So I’m thinking about throwing a birthday bash for Fric and Frac, a couple of angel fish that I know and their fellow aquarium residents. It will be a small affair with just their immediate friends. That is if they live long enough.

Writers & Friends
http://www.jrslater.com/forum

TICKLE MY MONEY BONE - AND ELMO TMX

For most parents and kids Elmo is the friendly red character from Sesame Street with the high pitched voice who laughs a lot. There will be even more to laugh about with the newest version, T.M.X Elmo that was revealed today on "Good Morning America." Just in case you were wondering what the TMX stands for it's Tickle Me Elmo Extreme. According to the promotional blurb this Elmo can slap his knee and can roll over in laughter when when tickled and has actual "tickle spots" on his chin, tummy and foot. When a child tickles his tummy once, Elmo laughs, slaps his leg and falls down laughing.

As an aside the Times Square ToysRUs was almost sold out the initial shipment by 11:00 a.m. Wanna bet that Santa's sack will be filled with laughter - and Elmos' - this Christmas? How do you spell b-i-g b-u-c-k-s, parents?

Read what else Elmo does: http://today.reuters.com/news/articlenews.aspx?type=domesticNews&storyID=2006-09-19T162233Z_01_WEN5618_RTRUKOC_0_US-MANUFACTURING-MATTEL-ELMO.xml&pageNumber=1&imageid=&cap=&sz=13&WTModLoc=NewsArt-C1-ArticlePage1

Writers & Friends Forum
www.jrslater.com/forum

TWO BEES EQUALS A LOT OF BUZZ - ROSIE O'DONNELL CLIMBS ABOARD

I like Rosie O'Donnell. I like her personna, I like her interview style and I think she is an entertaining and colorful personality. That being written I don't know how long she will last being the latest member of the team - something Rosie should remember - of "The View."

To be candid prior to Rosie's arrival I seldom watched the show unless there was a special guest that I wanted to see. However as a former viewer of Rosie's show, I was very happy that she was returning to daytime TV, even if she's not hosting her own show. Something else Rosie should keep in mind.

For sure her bombastic style would definitely change the direction the show will take if for no other reason that the other members of the panel, Joy Behar, Elizabeth Hasselback and Barbara Walters will feel compelled to jump in and make their presence felt. Joy Behar is no slouch when it comes to jumping in and giving her opinion and Walters has more-or-less run the show. Until now and therein could lay the problem.

I've been watching the new version off-and-on but have never watched the show in its entirety, yet. However, what I have seen is Rosie being Rosie. Her positioning sitting in a higher seat than Walters (at least when I caught the show) is in itself an indication of where she sees her position in the show: Queen Rosie. She makes faces and the audience laughs as the other ladies interact. Not a good idea, Rosie!

In yesterday's show I watched Walters face as Rosie spoke and Rosie cut to commercials and Rosie was...Rosie. It was as expected, control personified but there were times when she dropped her eyes and stared down at her knees while Rosie spoke, indicating to me at least that she (Walters) was somewhat perturbed. In the end it will be the viewers who will benefit from any type of power play by the two. Let's not forget that there can only be one Queen Bee in "The View" hive and Barbara was there first.

Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz....

("The View" broadcast live on ABC Monday through Friday from NYC (11:00 a.m.-12:00 noon, ET; CLOSED-CAPTIONED; broadcast in stereo; TV-14).

Writers&Friends Forum

www.jrslater.com/forum

I HEAR PAINT-INGS!

Some people hear normal things like birds in the trees, cars zipping by, music (some people even claim to hear dead people but that's a whole different subject) - your everyday stuff. Then there are people who hear paintings. You read it right: hear paintings!

While most of we "normals" enjoy the visual value of a painting, there are some of us who not only SEE things in the images but hear things as well.

According to a report in Reuters a neuroscientist working out of the University of London (notice how British scientists find some of the most..."interesting" subjects to study)some people are "synesthetes" and hear paintings or the paint anyway, talk to them! Next thing you know people will be offering themselves as synesthetes mediums and a whole new industry will be born...

O-kaaaay...

To test his theory the scientist he performed a series of experiments in which he asked the synesthetes to draw and describe the music played by the New London Orchestra. Read the story for the results.

So have your paintings talked to you lately and if so, what do they say? Anything interesting? Enquiring minds want to know!

http://today.reuters.com/news/articlenews.aspx?type=scienceNews&storyID=2006-09-04T202517Z_01_L04181462_RTRUKOC_0_US-SCIENCE-SENSES.xml&pageNumber=1&imageid=&cap=&sz=13&WTModLoc=NewsArt-C1-ArticlePage1

SOME THOUGHTS ON BEING RICH AND FAMOUS

Each night – maybe not every night but at least once per week before going to bed, I imagine what it would be like to be rich. We’re not talking here about being a “thousand-aire” but really rich. Since millionaires don’t run in the family and being a writer, the yearning for wealth has remained strictly in the dream stage. Still as long as there’s life, there’s hope…at least that’s what "they" say.

There is a plethora of how-to books out in the market place offering the way and means to achieve success and accompanying riches by merely visualizing one’s objective. In other words, dreaming will make it so. Shades of Walt Disney! Buying the books certainly help the authors fantasies come true by making them rich and prosperous.

Still, it would be nice to be able to go out and shop-‘til-you-drop and name drop famous designers.
"Oh it's just a little something I picked up at Dolce and Gabbana, dahling!" I would tell anybody within hearing range about the big-bucks outfit I had just bought.

Being rich means that I’ll be able to walk into any office supply store and not get “the look” for trying out all the lap top computers and not have to supply the excuse of browsing when approached. When a sales clerk appears I’ll merely smile and say, “gimme your most expensive model, please! I’m a writer!”

Being rich is the ability to take trips to stimulate my creativity and imagination wherever and whenever the mood hits. A mere phone call to a travel agent to book a trip around the world is all that’s required, first class of course. No plastic cutlery or pedestrian table wine and I’ll smile patronizingly with a “been there – done that” look on my face as they pass by to use the first-class bathroom.

Being rich suddenly eliminates invisibility.While visiting Paris I’ll emulate Hemingway while sipping a café au lait at a sidewalk café while watching the world go by and in Rome, I’ll freely toss Euros into the Trevi Fountain because I can. Tourists will gasp in awe, pondering my identity and begging for my autograph after which they will whisper to each other: “is she famous?”

Being rich will allow me the opportunity of producing my plays without having to depend on the “kindness” of others. Of course they will be wildly successful and critics will laud them with wonderful write ups in newspapers.
“Where has this playwright been hiding?” they will ask readers. “A definite ‘must attend’ they will say of the play.

Being rich means being able to take advantage of movie premieres and theatrical productions anywhere in the country, and knowing the producers and performers by their first names.
“Is Paris here?” I will ask the host. “What about Angelina and Brad? Aren’t they supposed to fly in?”

Being rich means never having to line up while waiting for a table in an up-scale restaurant. The mere mention of the family name and fame as a writer will be sufficient for waiters to go rushing around and moving diners from the primo tables to make room for us. There will be no more waiting to be served or munching on stale bread sticks while signalling madly for a waiter as a reminder of our presence.

Being rich allows one the luxury of moving in to a dream home replete with servants to handle the drudgery of cleaning the oven. Asphyxiation from oven-cleaning products will be a thing of the past. Never again will there be fights over who unloads the dishwasher…or make the beds…cut the grass and other mundane, every-day chores.

Reality check here.

Upon waking up and looking out the window, there is always the expectation and hope of seeing the publisher’s clearing house truck pulling up in front of the house, along with a brass band and someone walking up the path holding a million dollar check in their hand. So far it appears the truck has lost my address but I’m sure it’s just an oversight.

www.jrslater.com/forum
Writers & Friends

HAPPY TOOTH FAIRY DAY! HOW MUCH IS A TOOTH WORTH?

Circle the date of August 22 in your perpetual calendar.

In the scheme of things, "Tooth Fairy Day" is not well known or even publicized. According to some calendars, though, it exists. Maybe.

This leads one to wonder just how much a tooth is worth these days. In order to find out the answer to this...interesting question, where else does one start one's search but on the Internet, where the answers to all the wordly issues are found.

Wherever there's a monetary value on an article, there's always a site ready to make a buck. For example, "Tooth Fairy Land" www.toothfairyland.com has a package that includes:

- a personalized certificate from the tooth fairy
- a tooth fairy newsletter (what in the world does a tooth fairy have to say. 'Hi kids - gimme your teeth'?)
- a choice of 5 different poems

All the above for a mere $14.95!!!!

A search on the Net for some type of guidelines as to what a visit from the tooth fairy is worth these days, produced mixed results. There are parent sites that suggest anywhere from a dollar right up to $5 per tooth and higher. Factor in inflation and the space between a tooth can be costly!

Anyway, Happy Tooth Fairy Day. Bah - humbug.

OF POLICE DOGS AND CUTE COPS: SUMMER LITE

Among newspaper writers and readers actually, it's known that the dog days of summer months bring forth or produce some "interesting" stories. Police dogs are known to save lives but somehow a police dog in Ogden, Utah got it wrong. The dog, Ranger, inadvertantly ran over a woman while sitting in a truck. Well - kind of. It wasn't his fault but the end result is that the woman was hospitalized with a fractured pelvis and tailbone. Read the story and tell me you didn't laugh...a little bit.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2006/07/13/AR2006071300652



*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*


It appears that some women will go to any extreme to find a cute guy and in this case, a cop. Perhaps she has "a thing" about men in blue but the woman who is middle-aged (not that it excuses her action or justifies it but anyway...) used the emergency 911 system to find "the cutest cop I've ever seen." Al-right... In any case she got to see more cops than she could ever hope for at her court date.


http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/13862689/

Love those summer days - and stories.

LOBSTER ANGST: SO WHAT'S FOR DINNER?

It's getting to the point where it soon won't be politically correct to eat air! This thought went through my mind after reading a piece by Frank Bruni, a restaurant critic for the New York Times. In his piece Bruni discusses whether or not lobsters and other main courses suffer so that we humans can eat.

Personally, I'm not into lobsters because to be candid - it's those beady black eyes staring at me from a dinner plate that get to me. I've also never prepared lobsters -or any live crustaceans for that matter - since the guilt is enough to make me feel like a murderer. I'm also not into eating snails, dead or alive, due to the manner in which they live out their lives but then worms don't "do it" for me, either, although I will admit to sucking on a bug lollypop while taping a segment of a gardening show. In my defence we were discussing the edibility of some bugs like grasshoppers et al.

It also bothers me that lobsters live out the last few days of their lives in a holding tank with their claws bound up. Like, what do they (the people who catch losbsters) think they're gonna do? Maim or kill each other in the tank? Uh duh!

Researcher Clive Backster did some experiments back in 1966 using a lie detector to ascertain whether plants feel pain. His conclusion was that they (the plants) did respond in a way to threats of their well-being. Came accross an interesting interview while surfing the Net worth reading. Form your own conclusions.
http://www.derrickjensen.org/backster.html

Soon it will get to the point where we'll end up worrying about lettuce leaves, tomatoes and other salad fixings and horror-of-horrors, what grass feel when they hear the lawnmower powering up, or the shrubs being trimmed.

http://www.nytimes.com/2006/06/25/weekinreview/25bruni.html?ex=1308888000&en=ec726af0f0befe8e&ei=5090&partner=rssuserland&emc=rss

SINGAPORE TOILET SPECIALISTS UPGRADED

Heads up - or down as the case may be.

It never ceases to amaze me how serious toilet issues are in some parts of the world. There is the Toilet Summit, the Dry Toilet Conference, National Toilet Repair Month, all apparantly a flushing success.

Obviously, toilets make for big business and some people take their bathrooms very seriously. In Singapore for example, which has a reputation for clean washrooms, fifty toilet cleaners have been upgraded to the (?)new position of "restroom specialist." In fact they will be taking a 3-day session for the cleaners after which they will be known to all as specialists.

This leads one to wonder (at least I do) what's involved in becoming a "specialist" and the content of the courses. One can only speculate of course:

- toilet brush swirling 101, where recruits will be taught how to grasp a toilet brush by the handle and instructed the correct way to clean bowls, counter-clockwise

- toilet seat 'damp washing' 104 where cleaners will be instructed to rinse their cloths under running (not dripping) water and ring them out 20 times (not 21 or 19) until it is classified as damp. Wet seats do not encourage comfortable usage

- toilet paper roll replacement 201 whereby recruits are instructed as to replacing toilet paper rolls with the end facing the wall. Always. Without exception.

- stall washing 306

There is no information regarding graduation ceremonies but word has it that the grads are flushing with pride.

http://www.theglobeandmail.com/servlet/story/RTGAM.20060622.wsingtoilet0622/BNStory/International/home

BRIT COPS FORCED TO LEARN DUTCH

As a former dog owner whose pooch rarely listened to or obeyed commands, it suddenly occurred to me that the problem could have been a failure to communicate. Although it's a long shot since she wasn't the brightest spark in the universe, still it is a possibility.

Take the story of three police officers working out of Avon and Somerset who were forced to learn Dutch since the 3 dogs they recruited don't respond to English. Seems that the officers travelled to Holland to select the dogs, after being unable to find good quality animals in the U.K.

Now if I was a British canine, I would be furious and highly insulted! The inference as I view it is that British dogs aren't up to par when it comes to assisting in police work. This also leads one (me) to speculate as to how this "search" was conducted. Were ads placed in newspapers?

"Wanted. Three dogs. Must like cops. Reply to P.O.Box..."

Or maybe it was strictly a "do-you-know-anybody-that-has-a-large-ish-dog" type calls to friends.

I mean - c'mon! I absolutely refuse to believe that somewhere in Great Britain there aren't any German Shepherds that could fill the bill!

Anyway... There was a communication problem (to say the least) and dog handlers at the force's dog section in Bower, Ashton, Bristol have had to adapt. Their handlers who care for the Dutch dogs - two German Shepherds and a Malinoi - can now fluently communicate Dutch commands.

Wonder what the dutch word for fire hydrant is?

For a photo of the officer and his Dutch-speaking/barking colleague:
http://www.dailytimes.com.pk/default.asp?page=2006%5C06%5C08%5Cstory_8-6-2006_pg9_4

ELEANOR'S DAILY RANT: JUST AN ORDER OF TOAST, PLEASE!

"So what happened to you recently, Eleanor, that has you all worked up?"

Well...now that you ask... It's restaurants that don't serve toast. Two slices of your plain, ordinary, run-of-the-mill toast.

I mean - is it a lot to ask?

Remember the film "Five Easy Pieces" when Jack Nicholson asks the waitress for toast and they have a short but oh so memorable discourse as to what she could do with her solution to the issue? I know where he was coming from!

It's 8 o'clock in the morning at a delicatessen style restaurant located in a major Lost Wages casino. Being that I'm not a big breakfast eater (not a good thing to be in a city that believes in over-size everything), I stick to toast and tea. Look up at the menu, spot toast and relate my order to the waitress. She stares back at me and there is this over-whelming sense that this simple word "toast" is gonna present a problem.

"Toast?" she responds as if it's a dirty word.

"Toast" I reply, "with strawberry jam but if you don't have strawberry, I'll settle for what you have."

"You just can't have toast," she tells me, matter-of-factly, as if she's used to telling people this for years.

"Why not?" I ask, wondering if they've run out of bread.

"Just toast?" she repeats again, as if she could have misunderstood the nature of my request.

"Just toast!" I emphasize the 'toast' for her edification.

"We don't serve just toast," she finally confesses.

I glance again at the menu. She turns to look at the menu.

"Says 'toast' right up there. See? Right next to the two eggs, bacon and sausages. Clear as day. Toast! That's what I want. And jam of course. Oh and with two pats of butter - or magarine."

There is silence between us for approximately five seconds as we stare at each other. It's a scene out of a western movie where the camera shows an extreme close up of eyes, squinting, in an attempt to indicate the internal resolve of the two gun fighters to win.

"You can't order toast," she says softly. "My boss told us we can't serve that anymore..."

"And why not?" I jump in.

"You hav'ta order a meal," she finally explains, like it's a big load off her mind. "Why don't you order the two egg any style special that comes with toast?"

"But I don't want eggs!" I state matter-of-factly, through clenched teeth. "All I want is two slices of white toast...lightly browned, with two pats of butter and jam. Period!"

There is yet another five seconds of silence between us.

"Well...you can always leave the eggs!" she suggests, as if she's come up with the perfect and logical solution to end world hunger.

There was a sense of defeat knowing that the waitress was just following her bosses orders and had no intention of disobeying them for me or anyone else. So I ordered a bagel---black seed, lightly-toasted with three pats of butter.

It's like life and whether or not you see the bagel or the hole - and picking black seeds out of your teeth all day.

ONLINE RADIO STATION GOES TO THE DOGS

I dunno...if this doesn't prove we're living in weird times, than I don't know what will.

Believe it or not the first ever internet radio station for dogs, DogRadioThailand.com has been launched. Among the criteria in addition to playing music is to know how to bark.

Bark: as in 'rowf-rowf' or 'bow-wow' as the case may be or in this case, what the music calls for!

The content or play list features barking DJ's playing vocals and intrumental music 24 hours per day.

One of the main qualifications as expected, is that the DJ's be gifted in the barking department because according to the station owner, dogs are the main clientele/listeners and DJ's are required to make different sounds to attract and retain their (the dog's) attention like whining, barking, woofing...the usual doggie talk.

There are plans to expand the progamming with the disc jockey communicating to the dogs in Thai and the audience - at least the canine listeners - will be encouranged to respond. This of course begs the question as to the correct usage of barks. A DJ could for example say: "grrrrowwwfff" in which he believes to be telling the dogs to listen to Barry Manilow, when in reality he could be saying "Pee on the carpet!" I mean, go know!

There is no information available regarding whether hourly news reports and weather updates are also included. Wwwww-oooof - and don't ask me what it means. I'm not into dog talk.


http://www.dailytimes.com.pk/default.asp?page=2006%5C05%5C15%5Cstory_15-5-2006_pg9_2

ELEANOR'S DAILY RANT: A DAY AT THE SUPERMARKET

Having run out of fruit and vegetables, a trip to the supermarket was in order. The very same supermarket that allows or at least closes its eyes to shoppers tasting-before-they-buy. Given the fact that I ended up needing more than a hand-full of items, a shopping cart was required. Not any particular shopping cart, mind you. Any shopping cart would suffice.

Silly me!

There is a long line of shoppping carts inside the entrance of the supermarket, placed one inside the other. I pull at the first one...and pull...and pull but the*&%$%/* cart is wedged in. At this point I'm consumed with frustration and there are beads of perspiration on my forehead. 'Calm down Eleanor' I keep telling myself in an attempt to regain my composure. There are more carts outside and it galls me to have to actually go back outside to retrieve a cart when there are approx. 100 carts right in front of me that are unusable. However...out I go.

I pull...I push...I curse with heavy emphasis on the latter.

March into the supermarket and I'm ready to battle with any supermarket employee that crosses my path. There is a 5-7 minute wait at the customer service counter where a customer and the employee decide whether to exchange or reimburse a client for a frozen food item that has gone bad. No bill equals big decisions.
"Excuse me," I finally butt in, "but I need a shopping cart."
There was dead silence as all eyes turned to the lonnng line of carts at the entrance and then back at me.
"I can't pull them apart," I tell them. "All I need is one."
"I'm helping this customer now," the clerk informs me and returns to her customer. At that point the frozen food item was defrosting and a puddle of water was slowly getting wider accross the counter.
"Look - it's not a lot to ask," I jump in again. "All I want - all I need - is a shopping cart and then I won't bother you anymore."
She calls for an outside clerk over the loud speaker. I wait...and wait...and... Ten minutes later I remind her of my presence.
"They're all at lunch," she explains.
"What about the cart problem?" I gesture to a growing line up of people working at trying to extricate a cart. At this point people - strangers - were working in pairs trying to de-wedge one...any.
Probably sensing there could be a customer rebellion brewing, she calls a certain name over the store speaker and a tall guy in his early 20's who obviously worked out, saunters over. His arms are rippled with muscles.
The two of us return to the carts and there are now approx. a dozen people gathered around the carts discussing ways in which to get one.

It was like a scene out of the Ten Commandments where Moses extends his hand over the waters and the sea parts.

Using one hand the outside clerk removed the first shopping cart in the long line and suddenly all the rest wheeled forward, waiting to be retrieved. Together we all said "ahhhhhhh" as if he had just performed the greatest magic trick. Actually, he had.

Quickly grabbing a cart, I returned to the customer service counter waiting patiently in line to return a mini rose bush that I had purchased two days before, since the bottom leaves were dropping off. The customer service clerk looked a little nervous as she reimbursed me. Can't imagine why.

PRAISE BE - A MIRACLE FISH TALE

I find 'em all. Consider this a fish tale with a happy ending.

In New Zealand a goldfish who lived in a garden pond and was swept away by floodwaters has been found alive in a roadside ditch more than a mile away.

Now if this isn't a miracle I don't know what is!

Seems that the fish had been swept away five days earlier in a storm and was presumed - well - in fishy heaven. However a farmer walking his dog recognized the fish as one of three belonging to his neighbors.

The fishes owner was obviously overjoyed that it had managed to survive but anyone who has owned tropical fish and neglected to clean the tank will tell you that dirty water isn't an impediment to their well being. In fact they seem to prefer it.

However, this does beg the question as to how the owner knew that this fish was "the" missing fish. After all there could be other fish in other ponds that were also swept away. What would have happened one wonders, if other fish owners claimed the found fish in question to be theirs? Could there have been a custody battle? It would have been difficult if not impossible for a judge to make a decision since it's rare that fish owners keep a copy of their fish's DNA at home. I mean, a gold fish is a gold fish is... Even a photo wouldn't help.

Anyway, the fish now named Nemo for obvious reasons, is back where it belongs (maybe) but there is no news or signs of his (or her) friends.

THE TOILET TALKS - THE INSIDE VIEW

Let's say we could peek in on a toilet summit taking place somewhere in the world, to see and hear what type of things are discussed.


TOILET MANAGEMENT EXPERT
Okay people. Let's have a little order in the room... Please? I know you all have a lot of toilet talk to discuss... Good. Now I officially declare The Toilet Talks open

(loud raucaus applause and clapping)

TOILET MANAGEMENT EXPERT
The results are in and there have been some amazing strides in toiletry all over the world

(more raucaus applause and whoops)

TOILET MANAGEMENT EXPERT
Give yourselves a big hand!

(still more racaus applause and clapping)

TOILET MANAGEMENT EXPERT
Well...not quite everyone.

(booing)

TOILET MANAGEMENT EXPERT
Now people! Let's be charitable here! Not everyone is as toilet-conscious as most of us

(booing)

TOILET MANAGEMENT EXPERT
Um... It seems...that there have been some complaints from the public about a bathroom right accross the street from Buckingham Palace

(there are gasps throughout the room)

TOILET MANAGEMENT EXPERT
Okay, okay...simmer down now... Is the representative from the Buckingham Palace Loo here?

(there is silence in the room)

TOILET MANAGEMENT EXPERT
Mr. John I. Gotta Go? John are you in the room?

(a hand goes up very cautiously)

Oh good. You're in the room John. Is there some type of problem we can help you with?

JOHN I. GOTTA GO
It's not my fault!

TOILET MANAGEMENT EXPERT
Now John. We're all in the same bowl, so to speak. Share with us, friend!

JOHN I. GOTTA GO
It's the darned horsies!

TOILET MANAGEMENT EXPERT
Horsies?

JOHN I. GOTTA GO
The Buckingham Palace Guard horsies

TOILET MANAGEMENT EXPERT
What in heaven's name are you talking about?

JOHN I. GOTTA GO
Every day it's the same thing. I clean the bathroom and after every changing of the guard, the bathroom is full of - well - manure

(there is a hum of chatter among the crowd)

CROWD
hum-hum-hum-hum....

JOHN I. GOTTA GO
I swear it's the truth!

TOILET MANAGEMENT EXPERT
Are you expecting us to believe that... It's just too incredible. Perhaps it's not horsie-doo. Maybe it's people who couldn't make it to the toilet on time. After all it is near the Burger Queen restaurant

JOHN I. GOTTA GO
Listen sir. If there's one thing I'm familiar with it's the smell of - excuse the expression - shit and I'M telling YOU that it's horsey-doo!

(there are gasps around the room)

TOILET MANAGEMENT EXPERT
I find this hard to believe

JOHN I. GOTTA GO
Okay. I swore that I wouldn't tell anyone but since nobody here believes me... Ahem... Actually, a couple of the royal guardsmen don't like to leave their horses tied up to telephone poles. You know how it is - kids wanna pet them...sometimes tourists climb on top t'take pictures. So they bring the horses with them with they pee - I mean, urinate. Now everyone knows. I hope the Queen won't penalize them or anything...

TOILET MANAGEMENT EXPERT
Hmmm... I'll have to speak to the head guardsman about this. We can't have that type of behavior. We're trying to upgrade the toilet standards and horsie ka-ka is a no-no... Moving along...

A VOICE FROM THE CROWD
Hello? I have a confession. Hello? Sir?

TOILET MANAGEMENT EXPERT
Who wants to be recognized

A VOICE FROM THE CROWD
It is I, the representative from India. I too have a confession to make. The reason for the toilets over-flowing is not bad plumbing as I claimed. It is - a thousand pardons - sacred cow dung! They were imported cows from the United States and worth a lot of money to the owners. Their owners paid me five-hundred United States dollars! I'm bad - I know...

(there are gasps and boos)

(another voice pipes up from the crowd)

ANOTHER VOICE FROM THE CROWD
I too have sinned! There is camel dung in my stalls

TOILET MANAGEMENT EXPERT
It's gonna be a long day

TOILET MOMENTS VIDEOS: A FLUSH ABOVE THE REST

Speaking of toilets... For some more views on toilet related issues, drop by (or in as the case may be...see videos) and watch "TOILET MOMENTS" featuring a hilarious view of toilet related angst. It'll have you thinking twice the next time you enter a bathroom.

Funny stuff.



http://www.angelsoft.com/bathroommoments/clips.html

HEADS UP: MALAYSIA TO HOLD A TOILET SUMMIT

Malaysia aims to flush away its dirty toilet reputation. After all, a clean toilet is a thing to behold and admire. You would think so given the focus on this subject of late.

In order to clean up its image of having foul-smelling public restrooms, Malaysia will be hosting a National Toilet Summit to educate the public regarding the importance of a clean toilet.

According to a report public toilets in Malaysia are a big concern to residents and tourists with a lack of your basic toilet-tools like toilet paper, soap (ohmygawd and horror-of-horrors - no soap!) and on occasion, there is even a lack of toilet seats that are removed by vandals.

The summit according to a spokesperson, would be a meeting place for local officials and interenational experts on toilet management(!), including the founder of the World Toilet Organization. We're talking major toilet biggies here!

Go figure that toilets and their usage has become such an important focal issue and discussion subject. You have the World Toilet Summit, your Dry Toilet Conference in addition to the World Toilet Expo to be held in November in Bangkok, Thailand. It's enough to make a person flush with the urge to go...that is, to attend.


http://www.canada.com/topics/news/oddities/story.html?id=2e0da93e-da32-4c02-a4cb-de50e215b831&k=27139

A CASE FOR FATE - OR PERHAPS COINCIDENCE

Yesterday, there was a news item that makes one ponder one's destiny. A least it did me. All the elements are there to endorse a case for the reality of fate.

In brief a driver suffers a heart attack and crashes into a guardrail. Along comes a defibrillator salesman who was transporting an automated defibriallator that is used to shock the heart into a normal rhythm. The salesman upon seeing the accident grabbed the AED and went to work on the driver.

That in itself would make a case for fate but there's more.

Driving along are two nurses who spot the wreck and start performing CPR on the driver. Due to the intervention of all the people i.e. the defib. salesman plus the nurses, her pulse was restored and she is recovering in hospital.

Now what are the chances or odds that not one but TWO different sources would come together to save the life of a complete stranger who would have died had it not been for the intervention of all the people involved.

Fate? Karma - or mere coicidence?

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/news/archive/2006/04/26/national/a083124D30.DTL

A FLUSH OF SUCCESS: THE TOILET SUMMITS

Flushing with success from their past summit, comes the news that the next World Toilet Summit will be held in Moscow from September 6-9. So it will be an autumn in Moscow affair.

The summit will cover issues that include:
- City toilets
- International toilet classification
- Public restroom standards
- Toilet availability and accessibility
- Toilet infrastructure management, foreign experience in creating city toilet infrastructure
- Sanitary equipment
- Russia’s toilet market opportunities
- Toilet architecture and design. Fitting into local environment
- Toilets as sightseeing attraction(!!!)
- World toilet masterpieces(!!!)

Included also are these headings included in the "Abstracts and reports" section:
Section 1 City toilets
Section 2 Toilets for social integration
Section 3 Toilets for children
Section 4 Autonomous toilet technology

In case the delegates who attend want another view, the second annual Dry Toilet Conference will be held in Tampere, Finland from August 16-19.

According to the information blurb "the objective of the conference is to offer a discussion platform for professionals and other interested parties. The Conference will distribute the latest information about various aspects of dry toilets."

Dry toilets too? Is there no end to all this progressive toilet technology?

Last but certainly not least, Fluidmaster, (in their words) "the world's largest manufacturer of toilet replacement parts," has officially designated October as National Toilet Repair Month. "

The month will kick off with the finals competition for the Fluidmaster Flush-Off- a contest where contestants perform their best vocal impression of a toilet flush for an audience that includes nationwide media. This year's Flush-Off will take place at Fluidmaster headquarters in San Juan Capistrano on Wednesday, October 6. Winners will take trophies home cash prizes of $250 to $1,000.

I've already circled all the dates on my calendar. I'm just so...flushed with excitement.



http://www.toiletsummit.ru/index.php?option=com_content&task=blogcategory&id=15&Itemid=32

RUFUS THE TURKEY HAS LEFT THE BUILDING

Like most (or many)people, I like turkeys. They're not "cute" in the looks department but they're...okay and they do lead difficult - and short- lives. However, there are exceptions to the rule. Take Rufus for example... Actually somebody did just that.

Rufus was a turkey that arrived on the scene along with some feathery friends of his in October and managed to stay alive all through Thanksgiving unlike his pals who...let's just say they were the centerpiece of coversation. Initially, the turkey friends hung out at the Junction Café where they lived by eating grain of semi-trucks passing through the area. As his friends "left" one-by-one, restaurant patrons took pity on Rufus and even supplied him with "turkey bags" on their way out.

However...a turkey's life is a short one and it's a sad ending for the gobbler. He deserved better. There's a photo of Rufus in happier times posing in all his glory before..."the incident."

http://www.boston.com/news/odd/articles/2006/04/18/hunter_turns_rufus_the_turkey_into_dinner/

CLEANING UP THE STREETS...NOT!

It never ceases to amaze me how some people live to delegate. That way they can absolve themselves of all responsibility and get other people to do their dirty work for them. Ask me about it.

For example we were exchanging small talk with our next door neighbor. At the point when we were saying out good-byes, the neighbor two doors down suddenly runs towards us waving his hands madly. We figure it has to be something important.

"Hello! Hello!" he yells to us until he is standing directly in front. He extends his hand towards my husband and they shake 'man-o-to-man-o', a broad smile on his lips reflecting a lot of teeth. Maybe too broad upon reflection... We figure he's just being a friendly guy.

At the point where we're start to turn away, he suddenly blurts out, "dirt!" My husband and I look at each other.

"Dirt!" he repeats, pointing to the road. "Lots of dirt!" his finger extended in a 45 degree angle.

All eyes move on the road and we walk to the curb and stare down.

"They haven't come to clean the streets, yet!" Mr. Neighbor Two Doors Down states, his eyes blazing with that 'I'm-consumed-with-a-cause' expression on his face.

"Yeah - I noticed," I respond. I mean, what's a person supposed to say under those circumstances? 'oh really?' or perhaps 'I'm not into dirt?'
An awkward silence follows for 10 seconds and we all stare at each other and then my husband and I start to walk away.

"What are WE going to do about it?" he asks following us.

"Do about it?" I repeat, wondering if he's perhaps about to suggest a mass street sweeping project for our block.

"All that sand in the street! What are WE going to do about it?"

This is followed by another uncomfortable period of staring at each other with nobody saying anything.

"Did...you phone the Public Works Department and tell them about it?" I ask innocently, the words rolling off my tongue as if they had a will of their own. It was the opening Mr. Neighbor Two Doors Down had been waiting for and I had given it to him. It was akin to opening up the barriers of a flood gate and allowing the water to gush forward.

"Them?" he spat out, like the words burned his tongue. "They don't care! They take your name and your address and that's it!"

"But...did you call...the Public Works?" I re-addressed my question again, firmly taking charge of the situation.

"You think I'm going to waste my time calling them?" he went on, obviously on a rant.

"It is only April," my husband added his two cents worth to the subject. It was at that point that I threw him "The Look" warning him to be very careful what he said from that point on.

"Only April? ONLY April? The snow has been gone for a while now but have they cleaned the streets even once? Nooooo! Not even once my friend because they don't care! They don't give a damn about us!"

"He's right, you know," my husband turns to me. "They haven't cleaned even once."

"Disgusting!" Mr. Neighbor Two Doors Down comments.

"They could have cleaned already," my husband added. "There's no excuse for all this dirt."

"Yeah...no excuse," Mr. Neighbor Two Doors Down concurs.

"They're fast to raise our taxes but do they give us service?" my husband went on, obviously getting right into the spirit of things.

"No-they-don't!" Mr. Neighbor Two Doors Down responds, pleased now that he's got ally. "No service at all!"

"They have those big street cleaners with those big brushes but how often do they use them?" one of them said. At that point their two voices had melded into one loud whine. It was like a verbal ping-pong game.

"Never!"

"Yeah - never!"

"Useless!"

"No good at all!"

The conversation had slowly escalated to the point where it was attracting the attention of neighbors. To an outsider it could easily appear like two guys having a verbal fight - or worse.

"So did you ever call the Public Works Dept.?" I asked, again, trying to de-escalate the situation.

"Well...no," he responded, his facial expression exhibiting embarrassment at having been caught. "You call."

"Me? Why me?" I ask.

"We all gotta call!" he went on, "or it won't work."

"But...you didn't even phone them yet!" I remind him.

"Aw sweetheart. C'mon. You know all the right people to speak with," my husband suddenly jumped in as if this was suddenly my responsibility.

"Yeah! You know them all!" Mr. Neighbor Two Doors Down jumped in. "I mean, how long would it take you to call them? Two minutes?"

"Maybe even less. My wife knows everyone!" my husband added to give his statement weight. "She writes for a newspaper," he tells the neighbor proudly. It's at this point that the two discuss the merits of a small weekly newspaper versus the dailies.

"You didn't tell me you write for the newspaper," Mr. Neighbor Two Doors Down says as if the street cleaning situation has suddenly all been dropped in my lap.

So now we're waiting for 'them' to send out the heavy street cleaning equipment with the big brushes in front. Anything smaller won't do the job, Mr. Neighbor Two Doors Down and my husband have agreed. If they don't - they'll get me to call again. After all - I know everyone!

CONGRESS SHELLS OUT MONEY FOR WORLD TOILET CONGRESS

File this under taxpayers money at work.

A while back, I shared some information regarding the now very public, World Toilet Summit. It actually initiated a lot of feedback one way and another and now the U.S. government has also seen the importance and relevance of becoming involved in this - um - important gathering focusing on - um - toilets and related issues. So much in fact that they put aside $13.5 million for the International Fund for Ireland, which helped finance the World Toilet Summit.

In the way of background information and to know exactly how and why taxpayers are footing the bill, read an earlier blog offering, "A Flushing Success" for the why's and wherefores and background information about toilet issues.

Related to this in that it's money down the toilet in the true sense of the word, Congress also gave $1 million for the Waterfree Urinal Conservation Initiative in Michigan.

http://edition.cnn.com/2006/POLITICS/04/05/pigbook/index.html

COLD STORAGE

Talk about bad luck.

Most people or let's say a lot of people anyway, are buried in a traditional manner, traditional being coffin in the ground or cremation. However, there are those among us who opt for whatever reasons to be cryogenically frozen in anticipation that science will find a way to revive them and they will live on. Why one would want to live on after living a full life i.e. well into one's senior years, is worthy of a thought of two but anyway...

So in France two founders of the cryonic movement, a married couple, opt to have their bodies frozen after death in a freezer. They die and as requested their son respects their wishes and for twenty-two years, they are kept frozen stiff (in the true sense of the word) in a freezer. There is no information provided in which section they were stored but anyway...

Somehow the freezer broke down - maybe wear-and-tear...who knows and we're all aware of what happens when you defrost frozen things. Once the internal temperature of the freezer rose to above the desired temperature level of -65C (85F), the son opted to cremate the couple. The husband who died of a stroke at the ripe old age of 84, was a doctor and spent decades anticipating his death, believing that if he was frozen and preserved, scientists would be able to bring him back to life by 2050.

Let's say for argument's sake that this was possible and plausible in that cryogenics and futuristic medicine would allow people to continue their life span. What quality of life would he (and his wife) have had coming back to life at 84? Why would anyone want to?

It's one thing to preserve a wedding bouquet but I'll pass on being put on ice.



http://www.guardian.co.uk/science/story/0,,1732947,00.html?gusrc=rss

BATHROOM ETIQUETTE

Everyone uses the bathroom facilities and although there's no strict rules of conduct as such, the World Toilet Organization based in Singapore, has drawn up some toilet etiquette to help people conduct themselves in a socially acceptable manner.

For the record and for people interested in this area, the WTO's activities include:
- Research & development (i.e. Benchmark Toilet Research, in collaboration with the National University of Singapore)
- Conferences (i.e. World Toilet Summit, World Toilet Forum & Expo)
Training academy (i.e. World Toilet College)
- World Toilet Day, 19 November of each year
- Emergency Disaster projects (i.e. tsunami affected areas of India / Sri Lanka etc)

According to the organization in as far as using public bathrooms, maintenance and cleanliness must be upheld to encourage people to use them. In fact to encourage proper usage the group has provided some guidelines.

"Do not flick water on the floor after washing your hands. Instead, dry them with the hand dryer or hand towel available."
Problem is many of us upon discovering the paper towel dispenser empty and the hand dryer not working are guilty of flicking and/or shaking, which frequently results in the 'wipe-them-on-the-clothes' action. However, flicking is definitely the better option since a flick makes less mess but relegating to flicking in the sink is even better.

"Flush the toilet thoroughly after use."
The suggestiion is for "full flushes" and not a quicky-'half-flush' to eliminate the dreaded, "re-appearance"

"A hand basin is only meant for hand washing. Thus, it shouldn’t be used to wash other materials."
In other words - it is not recommended to use the sink to do the family wash after returning from a week camping trip in the wilderness. Mind you, I don't think anyone would object to a quick rinse of a bra...or a pair of socks...a dish or two... You know - light stuff.

"When using the toilet paper, just pull the exact pieces so that they would not litter the floor."
This is a little tricky and requires some mathematical skills and calculations. Would one sheet suffice after a meal at a Mexican restaurant? What about those that stick to the bottom of a shoe? Do they count?

"Vandalism is a common problem in public toilets and it often makes the toilets appear unsightly. Thus, one shouldn’t vandalize the toilets and should uphold the clean image."
This means none of that "for a good time, call Cindylou" messages.

"For guys using the toilets, do aim properly at the urinal so as not to dirty the floor."
Where else does one aim? On the ceiling?

"Ladies should not set their foot on any part of the toilet bowl so that the toilet bowl will remain clean for the next user."
Does this mean inside the bowl? I mean, why would a female (or male for that matter) want to insert a foot in toilet water? Maybe what is meant is to stand on the seat to ask a person on the outside to pass a sheet or two (but no more now!) in cases of an empty dispenser or empty toilet roll. How is it that there is no mention of this in their toilet update?

"Do not choke the toilet bowl or the hand-washing basin. They are only used for their purposes and not the other reasons."
Choke the toilet bowl? As in putting my hands around the pipes and telling it: "you are a baaaad toilet bowl!" I have to admit to hitting the soap dispenser on occasion in an attempt to extricate some liquid but I've never really felt the urge to do anything violent to the sink.

Now you all know how to act properly while in a public bathroom. Pass it on.

TO PEE OR NOT TO PEE - THAT IS THE QUESTION...OR ISSUE

Don't even bother asking me how I come accross these stories. I just do. Let's just say that I scan through a lot of newspapers from around the world to seek out the "unusual" aspect of a story. It has to be noted though - well it doesn't have to but it is weird - that my searches seem to flush out toilet stories.

This story caught my eye since it involves the elimination of public toilets due to monetary considerations. In other words, their funding got cut back to the easiest place to make cuts is in the elimination of toilets! I mean, who's going to care? Upwards of a million toilet users a year - that's who! How can one put a price on the anxiety of seeking out a toilet on a full bladder?

Anyway, negociations are still on going to find a solution. Solution??? Just open up the toilets, people!

http://www.ashbournenewstelegraph.co.uk/detail.asp?cat=General%20News&id=6288995

THE BUZZ ON BEES

Once again I'm angst-ing bordering on hyperventilating. The cause of my anxiety is bees. Not just any bees but African Killer Bees that are slowly making their presence felt in North America.

I've been keeping track of their slow but sure migration since first reading about them in the 1960's. These are bees with a big - accent on the big - attitude. Look at them the wrong way and they attack in a swarm.

In the way of background information a while back in 1957, twenty-six queens of a particularly mean race of honeybees originating from Africa, escaped from the site of a genetics experiment in Brazil. The bees were part of a scientific experiment to cross breed the angry bees with your subdued, ‘you-don’t-bother-me, I-won’t-bother-you’ domestic bee types to see if they would produce more honey. More honey, ergo, bigger profits. As is the case in many scientific experiments, things got out of hand and the mean bees known as apis mellifera adansonii, have been making their presence felt…in a big way.

Over the years there have been reports of their arrival at the Texas/Mexico border and there are reports of them in California. Having watched the movie, "The Swarm" featuring their arrival and impact on your average every day people, I knew there could be trouble ahead.

The latest buzz is they're heeeeere and are making their presence felt this year in Florida. I mean, in Florida for heaven's sake where people go for their winter escape and to relax on sandy beaches! So far and according to what I've read the baaaad bees can be calmed by smoke. There is always the question or issue of who in their right mind would smoke them out? They are also known to swarm only when crowded. How do these bees define crowded? One person standing directly in front of them?

There are some studies that indicate the Brazillian interlopers hate high pitched sounds. Now this could be their downfall. Perhaps - just perharps - they could be controlled with...say...heavy metal music and bands! Or even better, playing Barry Manilow songs in the vicinity of a known hive! One full dose of "Mandy" and they could be gone forever!

Word has it that they can't stand cold weather. I know exactly where they're coming from. Amazing how our typical Canadian winter that lasts six months of the year is looking better and better.

GO FLY A KITE! NOT!

In Lahore you don't tell anyone to go fly a kite anymore.

They've banned kite flying in Lahore, Pakistan. It's kind of a downer for the Lahorians since it's Spring festival time there and they celebrate the season of re-birth with a kite flying festival. I mean, what's a kite flying festival without...kites? It's an enforceable law and local police arrested 800 people over three days. For their own safety, of course.

While kite flying might seem like a passive, fun activity, it appears that it has caused a number of deaths due to kite strings being re-inforced with wire or glass fibre. I mean - since when did kite flying turn into a deadly sport? What happened to plain, old string? There are always a few people that spoil it for the masses. Some avid kite flyers strengthen their kite strings prior to dueling(?) with opponents in a game that requires cutting another's kite string. Furthermore, more than a thousand people were detained for the infraction of flying their kite, while others were arrested for firing celebratory gunshots into the air and playing loud music.

Gun shots? As in owning fire arms? Real bullets that can kill people?

One wonders how the police would react to a youngster flying a string version.

"Hey sonny girl/boy - you stop that illegal and banned activity right this minute!" a police officer would tell a kindergarten girl/boy who was flying a home-made kite, "or we're going to have to make an arrest!"

The zealous police officer who would be doing her/his job and following the letter of the law, would probably grab the kite out of the youngster's hands at which point the kid would probably break down sobbing her/his heart out.

"Do not cry, child,", the officer who might be experiencing pangs of guilt would probably attempt to calm the probably hysterical child, "you do not want to be arrested, do you? We would have to take you away to jail in handcuffs..."

At that point to make the child understand the gravity of her/his offensive act, the officer would whip out a set of cuffs and dangle them in front of the child.

"Then you would have to be finger printed and held in a waiting cell with lots of baaaaad people until your parents came to bail you out. You wouldn't want that, would you? Of course not and that is why we have to take your kite away from you."

The festival by the way has been celebrated for centuries with kite flying and roof top parties.

Seems to me that there should be a provision in their law whereby kites be classified as dangerous or an innocent children's diversion.

Talk about taking the joy out of what is and/or could be a fun activity...

PSST! WANNA BUY A CASTLE?

Ever dreamed of owning a castle? You know…drawbridge, tower, turret, a moat…the usual castle-y stuff. There’s one for sale for people willing to do a little home renovation. Correction: a lot of renovation.

However, the castle in question, Llanwit Major Castle located in southern Wales, needs some work.

A lot of work.

The perk to owning this castle is it’s ready to move in. In fact nobody has lived in there since the 18th century, which means that there’s wall-to-wall dust bunnies, everywhere. Could also be a dampness and mildew problem too since it no longer has any roof and some of the walls are worn away, which would present a problem for painting and wallpapering.

Other than that – it’s a handyman’s fixer-upper!

The new tenant should also be aware that the castle is protected by law and its owner would be required to apply for Scheduled Monument Consent from the Welsh Assembly before starting the repairs. This seems like a reasonable request since it just wouldn’t be proper to add – let’s say – an awning for the tower. Or enlarge the moat and turn it into an in ground pool for summer parties and barbeques. Chances are the Council wouldn’t agree to turning it into a theme park, either, although this idea does have some merit. Boat trips around the moat…bungee jumping from the turret…lots of promise there.

One last thing and it’s a minor inconvenience really, but the castle is reputed to be haunted but given the repair challenge, that’s a minor problem.
The castle is expected to bring in between 5,000 and 15,000 pounds, or $10,000 and $30,000 at auction, a veritable steal! Has Donald Trump heard about this?

...AND THE ACADEMY AWARD FOR THE BEST BATHROOM EXIT...

So tonight is the Academy Awards. Can’t speak for others but this annual event is a two bags of micro-waved popcorn event in our household. Depending on how boring the show is we might indulge in a glass of wine at some point, which begs the question as to whether red or white wine would go better with popcorn. Perhaps a Zinfandel…or a Chardonnay…

Anyway, the real problem is what to wear for the gala affair. Somehow, jeans and a tee shirt just don’t seem appropriate given the formality of the occasion.

The really big issue for me, anyway, is whether to watch the show live or tape it since there is a special with Dr. Wayne Dyer on PBS. For the uninitiated Dr. Dyer is an inspirational speaker and a personal favorite of mine. However, if I don’t watch the award show live, then I’ll end up reading the results in the morning newspaper and the surprise element will be gone. Not to be overlooked is the excitement of passing judgment on the various stars and rating their choice of gowns/designers that require live commentary.
Decisions, decisions…

As a writer who wrote a film script a while back that is gathering dust on a shelf, I’ve always pictured myself in the audience, dressed in a stunning one-of-a-kind designer dress. My hair of course would be perfect as would my makeup. Perhaps my image will be broadcast accross the world when they pan the audience. Of course I would wave and throw a kiss to people back home.

I’ve also wondered what happens when one has to answer ‘nature’s call’? Can one just get up and leave? Or, perhaps one raises or waves one’s hand and tries to get the attention of a passing usher. What happens if there is no usher around? Are there bathroom contingency plans for bathroom emergencies like a full bladder or loose stomach?

Like many people… Okay some people, I’m directionally-challenged. What happens if one goes to the bathroom and can’t find one’s seat again? Does one just keep wandering around aimlessly asking people the location of one’s seat location?
Perhaps under certain circumstances such as having to use the bathroom, the show organizers keep a few spare seats in case people lose their way.

And that’s why I’ll probably never attend the Academy Awards in person: bathroom issues.

SWEET SMELL OF SUCCESS

So how's the bathroom these days? Is it sweet smelling? Sparkling clean? Soap bar perhaps a bit grimey? Dust bunnies in the corner or under the tank?

For most people keeping their bathroom clean while important for hygienic purposes, isn’t something that keeps them awake at night with worry. However for businesses attempting to take home the first (and only) prize plus entry in “America's Best Restroom Hall of Fame,” there’s no compromising when it comes to keeping their toilet a flush above the rest. Some would even go as far to say the challenge bowls them over.

A bathroom supply company is sponsoring an on-line poll to seek out the cleanest bathroom in the U.S. They’ve narrowed it down to five bathrooms located in a Rhode Island seafood house, a Michigan bistro, a New Jersey casino, an Illinois airport and an Ohio restaurant.

Sponsored by a company who just happens to be a manufacturer of restroom supplies, the contest was initiated to spotlight businesses that kept “exceptional hygiene with style” in their toilet bowls.

Seems that the organizers do research but don’t actually try out, presumably as in sit on the nominated seats or perform a finger test, before narrowing it down to the five for the on-line poll. It would be too difficult since nominations can and are made by anyone.

It could be a big job if you'll excuse the pun.

The nominees, probably flushing with pride, submit photos and information about their business, after which the photos are posted on the sponsoring company’s web site. Presumably, there will be no photographic images of soiled toilet paper on the floor or close ups of stall doors containing messages like “For a good time, call …”

Perhaps the organizers might consider expanding this challenge to Europe where some "facilities" are relegated to a small drain in a cement floor, period. Another addition worth considering for organizers is the addition of a golden plunger, as an added incentive.

If I sound a little anal regarding bathroom facilities, blame France for traumatizing me possibly for life. A recent visit to that beautiful country with its delicious baguette and scrumptious food caused some over-eating at a small and quaint bistro and a trip to la toilette. It was the type of bistro advertised in those colorful travel folders with a serving bar and small tables with white tablecloths. Strolling through the bathroom door it was obvious immediately that something was amiss: there were no toilets! Assuming perhaps that I had entered the wrong door, I exited and verified that there was indeed a drawing of a lady. Once that was established I re-entered and made a complete circle of the room. A few times. Many, many times but no toilette. Instead the room was wall-to-wall tiles with a slight slope in the middle and a small drain. Once again exiting the door and cornering the waitress , I enquired as to "ou est la toilette?", she pointed to the door I had exited. Using the Stanislavsky method to communicate, I shrugged my shoulders a few times and pointed to the door.

"No bathroom-o" I told her. "You know...'le pee-pee' room?'

Finally, upon realizing my desperate situation since I was twisting my legs and hopping up and down while talking, she motioned me to follow her and together took a promenade down the street about a half a block to yet another restaurant operated by the same owner of the bistro that had a "real" bathroom with real toilet.

By the way the winner, which will be chosen in April, gets a plaque with the title of “"America's Best Restroom Hall of Fame."

Have they heard about this in France, yet?

A SLIPPERY SITUATION

Did I mention that I hate winter?

Living in eastern Canada where winter seems to last nine months of the year and summer for one week, weather is an important topic. In addition to a fair amount of snow we also get days of freezing rain, where sidewalks become treacherous and un-navigatable. It is at this point that Quebecers depend on the kindess of the Public Works department or 'PW's' as I call them, to come to the rescue. In theory they should be salting streets and sidewalks once the storm has passed, but the reality is that citizens have to wait...and wait...and wait.

Last week was a perfect example of such a slippery situation. The temperature rose above-normal for this time of the year, causing a quick melt down followed by what the media called "a flash freeze." The end result were streets and sidewalks so icy that the ice shows could have used them for practice. Cars travelled at a snails pace barely able to stay in their lane and walking was next to impossible.

The 'PW's' for their part spread de-icer products at busy intersections, period, but no sand or salt for sidewalks or local streets. Pity the poor pooches out with their owners trying to make their way along the sidewalk while looking for a place to pee. Let's just say that it wasn't a good idea to get too close to anything metal like a pole.

As a law-abiding citizen there came a time when the 'PW's' had to be notified and reminded who pays their salaries. The conversation went something like this:

ME
Hello? Is this Public Works who is supposed to take care of public roads?

THEM
Um...yes. Depends what you're talking about

ME
Exactly what I said. Are you or are you not taking care of our roads?

THEM
We handle the complaints

ME
I'd like to complain - and then some

THEM
Is there a problem?

ME
It's about the lack of sanding or salting the streets

THEM
Where do you live?

ME
blank-blank...(provided them with address)

THEM
Oh we salted/sanded there

ME
Oh really? How come I can ice skate in front of my house?

THEM
You went ice skating on the street?

ME
No...but I could have!

THEM
So what's the problem?

ME
No sand. No de-icer. Nothing. Rien. Nada.

THEM
Uh-huh. I'll have the supervisor call you back.

ME
What the hell good will that do? Is he or she gonna come salt the streets?

THEM
Well...no, but someone will call you back!

ME
What about salting or sanding?

THEM
Um... Someone will call you back. Here is your file number

Silly me assuming that being given a file number meant things would get moving, however, I planned my conversation with the supervisor.

I waited and waited and then I waited some more and nobody called back. Undaunted, I called them back. After all - didn't I have a file number, now?

ME
Hello. My file number is blank-blank. I called yesterday to complain about the lack of sanding or...

THEM
Your file number?

ME
Blank-blank...

THEM
Are you the resident living at blank-blank on blank-blank street?

ME
Yes. That would be me. Listen...there has still been no salting or sanding on the street

THEM
You have to understand that our policy is to sand corners and intersections first

ME
What about in front of homes? Don't they count?

THEM
Eventually but we adhere to the policy manual

ME
How do you change the policy, one asks knowing darn well what you're gonna say

THEM
Oh you have to have the bylaw changed and that will require a meeting by local council members and...

ME
I get the picture. You know what? I give up. I'll just wait until Spring until the weather gets milder and then - presto! - my problem will disappear just like the ice.

And then I hung up.

In their defence they did come, eventually, three days later when the temperature went above normal, again. At that point they brought out the big snow clearing equipment, snow blowers and little side walk sanders.

PSYCHICS LEND THEIR FEELINGS TO DOG SEARCH

Anybody seen Vivi around? The whippet who just happens to be an award-winning show dog, escaped her cage at the Kennedy International Airport.

In spite of a thorough search Vivi has vanished, and so other methods of finding her have been brought in. Other methods consist of twelve psychics who are counselling searchers as to the wereabouts of the whippet. There is no mention of how or what type of psychics are lending their hand...or in this case, feelings...or connection with the great beyond.

So far the psychics feel that the dog is warm and safe and laying low in a building...somewhere. Thing is, how do the psychics know if they have tuned into Vivi and not some other missing pooch?

'Helllll-o? Am I connected to Vivi?' just won't do the job. Some dogs will do anything for a meal and a warm place and some strays may even claim to be the missing pooch.

"Yes it's me!" a wily german shepherd may bark. "I'll be Vivi or anybody you want me to be if it'll get me some food and bones!"

Now why would a dog who spends a large portion of its life in a cage and being felt up and down by strange hands want to take off, one wonders.

Vivi's sudden departure followed a win at the prestigious Westminster Kennel Show. A $5000 reward has been offered for Vivi's safe return. That would buy a lot of dog food for a lot of strays and lost dogs waiting to be adopted in shelters accross North America.

BARBIE AND KEN - BACK TOGETHER AGAIN!

It has been a long time coming but there is good news today: Barbie, “the” fashionista of the doll set and her used-to-be boyfriend, Ken, are a couple, again. They had a parting of ways almost two years ago just before Valentine’s Day, orchestrated by their “parent”, Mattel, since Ken’s popularity was on the wane. Things were never the same once the boy-toy was relegated to peaking out of a cardboard box in the hope that someone would take pity on him.

Hard to believe given their ageless faces but the two-some had been dating 43 years when they separated. Word has it that Ken was finally about to pop “the” question having bought her an engagement ring 41 years ago, when he was given the boot instead…or sneaker as the case may be. To make matters worse and to add insult to injury Barbie took up with Blaine, an Australian surfer-type. Perhaps it was his accent or what is believed to be an addiction to surfing, but they drifted apart.

Actually, Ken never appeared to be into much of anything other than hanging around Barbie with an adoring puppy-dog look in his eyes. During their years apart the blond with the 2 inch waist, permanently pointed toes and ever-present smile, tried her hand at acting playing the role of princesses.

In as far as the dating scene is concerned her name was connected with the mucho-macho G.I. Joe and an entourage of hangers-on including Kelly, Midge, Kayla doing the club scene. Word has it that she gave Joe the push due to his habit of bringing along a weapon and firing it in the air for effect, while on their dates.

Anyway, Ken is back and has gone through a make-over (doesn't everyone these days?). The shorts are gone and replaced with a designer wardrobe by a celebrity dresser. His wardrobe now includes cargo pants, a fitted suit and a trendy motorcycle jacket. In addition to the change of outfits he has had some plastic (in the true sense of the word) surgery with a nose job and a mouth adjustment. Whether this will be enough to satisfy the plastic babe remains to be seen.

Meanwhile, there are reports that the new and improved Ken has been secretly seeing Roxxi and Pheobe, twin Bratz dolls. Uh-oh…could be trouble in paradise…

A FOWL STORY WITH A HAPPY ENDING

Sometimes I wonder about people and their love for pets. Not just any type of pet mind you but a chicken. Don't get me wrong because I'm a chicken lover...well a chicken liker anyway, but I prefer mine barbecued with a side order of french fries.

All of this is leading to a story concerning how the life of chicken was saved due to the quick thinking of a retired nurse. The fowl who was owned or lived with the nurse's brother, was found floating beak down in the family pond. This leads one to ask a variation of that age-old question: "why did the chicken cross the road?" and in this case, "why did the chicken jump in the pond?" with the answer probably being, because it was there...the pond, that is. Chicken's aren't the brightest sparks on this planet.

Getting back to the story the nurse who said she hadn't practiced CPR (cardiopulmonary resuscitation) in years, for some reason or the other known only to her, decided she was going to try and revive the chicken to see if she "still had it."

O-kaaaaay...

It's one thing to give a human being mouth-to-mouth resuscitation but it's an entirely different issue when you're dealing with a beak.

Presumably, she first checked to see if the chicken had a pulse. Perhaps she probed the chicken's neck with her fingers or being that she was a nurse, maybe she had a spare stethoscope hanging around the house and listened to the chicken breast.

Go know!

According to the story the nurse put her lips on the chicken's beak and breathed life back into the poultry. When you think about where chicken's live and the type of pecking they do and where they do it, you have to give this woman credit.

Once the chicken was revived the nurse advised the owners to put in a box and keep it warm, which they did. The owners speculated that the chicken who frightened easily, had been startled and flopped into the pond. Imagine how the fowl felt when it came to and was greeted with a human face a few inches away from it.

This reminds me about a friend who gave her pet dog mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, and was very proud to supply all the grimy details regarding the method involved. Contrary to what people believe, dog's saliva is not the cure-all as it was once believed to be.

At one point - at least among my circle of friends - when a child had a nasty scratch, someone would inevitably offer the advice: "let the dog lick it. It'll heal faster." This is not recommended by the medical community these days.

I've owned pet fish - many, many pet fish - who went to meet their maker in the great toilet tank in the sky and never, not once, have I ever felt the urge to give it "the kiss of life." Let me state for the record that I'm a big fish lover, especially with a blob of tartar sauce and a squeeze of lemon.

VALENTINE'S DAY - GETTING TO THE HEART OF THE MATTER

The first thing wrong with Valentine's Day is that it falls at the wrong time of the year. How can one really have warm romantic inclinations during a month when a good portion of the North American hemisphere is caught up in a deep freeze?

We can blame it all on one Bishop of Spoleto, who was martyred on February 14, AD 271. If he had died in the month of May, this holiday would take on a whole new vista. Traditionally, Valentine's Day was celebrated as a lover's feast, hence the reason for restaurants offering special gastronomical banquets. Profit has nothing to do with it, of course.

So...why not switch Valentine's Day with let's say...Mother's Day, for example? I'm sure that mothers being mothers and blessed with extra-understanding qualities, wouldn't mindobserving their special day in winter. Right?

Love first touched my life at 8 years of age, although it wasn't recognized as such. My friend Tony was a year older than me and we accompanied each other to and from school. He had a great sense of humor but was not considered romantic material. It was just friendship - at least on my side, anyway.

As in many school classrooms, ours had a Valentine's box where pupils could send each other cards as tokens of friendship, or to express romantic sentiments. Sometimes the cards were signed but frequently the sender chose to remain anonymous. I received about a dozen nameless cards, which I knew were from Tony. In return for his expression of great affection, I sent him one miserable card and even then, I agonized whether or not he deserved it. At that age, it just wasn't cool to show one's feelings.

After class that Valentine's day we sat on the step at my house and compared cards. At the point when it was time for us to part, Tony suddenly and without any prior warning, bent over and kissed me on the cheek.

Horror of horrors!

A member of the opposite sex had romantic inclinations - and towards me, no less! If he were allowed to get away with the action, more kisses would follow and then what would I do? There was only one course of action to take and I didn't hesitate. I punched him in the stomach and he reacted by doubling over and groaning. Then he took off screaming in pain and headed for home. Thinking back, I was quite pleased with myself.

I immediately regretted my move but it was too late and the harm was done. Nothing was ever the same between us again. Tony didn't return phone calls and he rejected any overtures of friendship. He even took another route to school by by-pass my house.

The second time that true love struck was in high school and it was unrequited. The object of my affection or crush to be more precise, was a popular guy who was adored by half the female student population. His locker was directly opposide mine and I eagerly looked forward to class changes and lunch break, in hope of catching glimpses of him.

All my textbooks had hand-drawn hearts on the inside pages with his name and mine inter-twined. It all ended on a sad note one day toward the end of the school year, when I spotted him walking hand-in-hand with one of the most popular girls in school. They flaunted their love in front of me, even though they weren't aware of it. Time as they say, heals all wounds and I got over him during the summer break.

The "romance" was all but forgotten until a chance meeting at the airport years later, while waiting to pick up a member of the family. Walking through the gate was a vaguely familiar face and my memory was suddenly jolted back 25 years.

The eyes were the same but that was the extent of the familiarity. HIs thick, wavy hair had all but disappeared and except for his sideburns, his scalp was shiny and bald. The lack of hair emphasized a long nose that I hadn't noticed when my love for him blurred any physical imperfections.

For the first time our eyes met and I remember smiling at him. He returned the gesture, assuming perhaps that we knew each other. However, my smile was one of smug satisfaction.

Sometimes we have to wait until we're adults to fully savor the fruits of childhood romance - and a clear vision.