Archive - Feb 2009

Having a beach across the street really doesn't lend itself to getting some blog posts out there for the consumption of the masses, eh? 

I'll have a Corona and ponder this further. 

The husband's coming to town!  The husband's coming to town!

Again, I will make you, my devoted Cake Eater readers, aware of a very cool tool: Flight Aware.  This is a live flight tracker, and it's the same deal that you get when you have tee vee on your flight and come across a map with your flightpath on it.  It's hooked into air traffic control, so you get the latest information---and you get it from the source, rather than through the airlines, who always seem to be behind the time with the handing out of information.  In case you were wondering, the husband is currently over Iowa, and is about to hit middling Illinois on his way down here.  This might be fun, I would think, for the kiddies, as well as being handy for adults. 

Anyway...the husband's coming to town.  The husband's coming to town.  The husband's going to get a shock of humidity when he walks out the door of the terminal.  The husband's coming to town.  His whiteness is going to get fried today at the beach unless I slather him in 50SPF.  The husband's coming to town.  The husband is bringing my camera with him, so I can finally post that bidet picture devoted Cake Eater commenter, Bob, wants to see.  The husband's coming to town.  He's really looking forward to sitting in the hot tub and smoking a cigar. 

This is one of the very few times when I can say conclusively that today is going to be a FABULOUS day.

1.  People, it's skin, not leather.   Get thee out of the sun for a few weeks and let your epidermis heal.  It's not nearly as attractive as you think it is.  Bleech.

2.  Put the damn grape smuggler swimsuits away, for pete's sake.  Maybe you looked good in it forty years ago, but that doesn't mean you look good in it now.  When the grapes are somewhat withered and aren't hanging from the vine all that well, it's time to get some trunks.  You'll be happier and more comfortable. And so will I.

3.  Back waxing: it's the new new thing.  Avail yourselves of it.  And maybe the technician will do your ear hair for free!

So, my wonderful father every now and again has suggestions for what I'm supposed to do with my blog.  Generally speaking, anyone who tells me what to write on my blog gets shafted, big time, but...it's my dad.  I have to humor him a bit.  Today's suggestion centered around grammar.  And because I, apparently, seem to be a grammar wench, this should be a task uniquely suited to my sensitivites.  His idea?

I should document every time Obama uses 'a' when 'an' would be appropriate. 

I'm not kidding, either.  This is my father's idea of scintillating reading. 

Now, I didn't lecture him on how spoken English can, and usually is, much different than written English.  How many people say, for instance, remember to put the adverb in front of the verb, like you would with an adjective in front of a noun? People dangle participles all the freakin' time.  And instead of saying, "I feel badly," we say, "I feel bad."  Is this lazy?  Yes.  But that's what you do, otherwise we'd all sound like we had a stick up our asses and/or were this guy.  We don't speak the way we're supposed to write. Very few people can pull it off and not sound incredibly pompous and the only thing that saved Buckley from that fate was that he had sailed into international waters to experience some herb.  It's just that simple. 

But, according to my father, this is apparently something he should be called on.  If W. was hung out to dry over the "nuclear" thing, Obama deserves the same treatment, that these two things are on the same level.  I was hesitant to jump on this particular train because I didn't know if it was a regional thing---as in a Hawaiian thing.  Which wouldn't be very fair, because Bush's mispronunciation of "nuclear" was a regional thing.  Obama's obviously not speaking pidgin, but maybe he did, or hung out with people who did, during his disadvantaged youth and those habits stuck.  I don't know. 

So, finally, here's your random question of the day: should someone---and not necessarily me, my devoted Cake Eater readers, if you know what's good for you---be keeping track of Obama's 'a's and 'an's, and when he doesn't use the correct article?   

What say you, my devoted Cake Eater readers?  (and remember to be nice when you reply.  This is MY FATHER we're talking about.)

Just kill me now, would you?

Fortunately, it appears that the five Republicans in Illinois only have to suffer through seeing these plates for precisely two months---but that's still two months too long.

Heh.

Go and clicket.  You'll feel better for it. 

Would I lie to you, my devoted Cake Eater readers?

So, I reached what is the next stop on "Kathy's South-of-the-Mason-Dixon-Line Tour '09" (should we sell t-shirts?)  yesterday.  After an ungodly early flight out of Austin, and a connecting flight that was packed to the gills (was seated in the last row, aisle seat, next to the lavatories.  Yeah.  Let's not go there.) out of DFW, I arrived in Ft. Myers, Florida, to spend some time with the Cake Eater Parents, who are currently vacationing in Bonita Springs for the month of February. 

My parents usually stick to the panhandle when they come down to Florida.  They like their usual location, Ft. Walton Beach, because they have been traveling there for over fifty years, and they are familiar with it.  They stay at a great place, right on the beach, and it's wonderful for them.  With one thing and another, they didn't make their usual trip to Ft. Walton in October.  Enter into the picture my cousin, who is also named Kathy.  Kathy, shall we say, married well.  As in she married a hedge fund manager.  Or something like that.  I'm not really sure what her husband's job is other than to manage large sums of money.  He's well compensated for his work, and actually happens to be a very nice man, with a good heart.  Kathy and her husband love their auntie and uncle and repeatedly try to spoil them whenever possible.  The Cake Eater parents, generally speaking, aren't too comfortable with this notion, being humble people, and they don't want to take advantage. 

Except for this time.  Kathy offered up their house in Bonita Springs to Mom for a winter vacation. It's on the market, and it's just sitting there empty, she said, why don't you take advantage of it?  Mom politely refused, per usual.  She mentioned it to Dad, and Dad, mindful that winter has been crappy this year, asked Mom if she was nuts.  Hence, at the end of January, they made their way from Omaha to this vacation destination, which is on the gulf coast of Florida, north of Naples, and south of Ft. Myers.  They invited me to come and visit, hence I am here.  Along with my sister and brother-in-law, who followed me over from Austin yesterday.

The only problem with this scenario, if you could call it a problem, is that the house is 8000 sq. ft., seems to be comprised solely of marble, has handy dandy elevator, because it's got five floors, and has a lovely kitchen and---wonder of wonders!---a built-in wine cooler! 

Oh, and yeah, there's a bidet in my bathroom. 

No, I am not planning on using it.  But this house is unfrickinbelievable.  It's right across the street from the beach, and for the next couple of weeks or so, I shall be living in the lap of luxury.  Now if only the husband could get his butt down here, he could peel me some grapes, and then I'd really have the whole spoiled Roman Emperor thing down.

I forgot my camera at home, so I can't post any pictures just yet, but I will when I get the chance.  

Why is it that I, for the love of God, cannot figure out what my liver can handle post-chemo?

I don't understand it.  Really and truly.

I'm not a lush.  (Anymore, that is.) But I cannot figure out why I can handle cherry martini after cherry martini and not be affected---with no hangover the next day---yet, if there's too much wine, I'm loaded.  And I'll pay for it the next day. 

Before chemo, it was the other way round.  What did those effin' drugs do to my liver?  I don't get it. 

Am I the only one who is seriously annoyed with the increasing usage of double negatives, particularly where this God-awful stimulus bill is involved?

As in, "we can't afford not to take action."  That was courtesy of Arlen Specter in today's WaPo, but I can't be bothered to link.  See?  Double negative.  How about this?  "We must take action.  We cannot afford to wait any longer."  See?  Never mind that the message is erroneous in the extreme.  This works just fine, and without any grammatical boo-boos.  Or is good grammar just too passe these days?

I lay the fault at the wingtips of Chandler Bing.  He brought this plague of double negatives upon us.  He's got some 'splainin to do! 

Well, she would be if I was currently somewhere where it was cold and snowy. 

Preach it, sister!