An excuse to sleep more

My boss is lamenting the deterioration of her short-term memory. Well, she shouldn't be surprised: she is thirty-something. We can't expect our memory to last forever.

The other day she pleaded for suggestions on how she could improve her memory. The traditional brain-strengthening ideas were offered: Solving crossword puzzles. Doing word searches. Trading brains with someone who has an excellent memory.

Now this last option might be a good solution, but unfortunately it is specifically excluded in our company insurance guidelines: BRAIN TRANSPLANTS FOR THE SOLE PURPOSE OF IMPROVING ONE'S MEMORY ARE HEREBY EXCLUDED FROM COVERAGE. BRAIN TRANSPLANTS FOR OTHER REASONS, INCLUDING THE WISH TO FORGET HOW GEEKY ONE WAS IN HIGH SCHOOL, MAY BE CONSIDERED ON AN INDIVIDUAL BASIS.

But according to researchers, one of the best things any of us can do to improve our memory is to sleep more. I agree wholeheartedly.

The idea that we can strengthen our brain by resting it was a topic of much discussion at a conference of the American Psychological Association a few years ago. Apparently several sessions of the conference were devoted to discussing sleep and its benefits, including improvements in health and attitude. At many conferences I have been to, many of us do more than just talk about sleep: We heartily try it out. It certainly improves my attitude.

Sleeping, specifically dreaming, can also help us make sense of the day's events. For instance, I have been badgering Joe to find a new barber. After some time of being subjected to this badgering, he informed me that he had had a dream that he was on a fashion consultant show. The consultant told Joe that "long hair definitely doesn't work for you. You should go short and spiky." Joe acknowledged to me that this would definitely influence where he went to get his hair cut.

But back to sleep and memory.

According to researchers, Americans have a "pervasive sleep debt." This sleep debt is affecting our productivity, our work, our relationships, our ability to remember our name, etc. We become "clumsy, stupid, and unhealthy." If you are shortchanging yourself on sleep, It could even, as one researcher has chillingly pointed out, cause you to forget everything you learned about improving your golf swing in Wednesday's lesson so that by Saturday, you are worse off than if you had never taken the lesson.

This is serious indeed. If this collective sleep deprivation is left unchecked, we might find ourselves in a national crisis -- on the brink of sleep bankruptcy. Clearly, we must take action before disaster strikes. I propose, therefore, that we institute a bailout to deal with this issue. We must impose a sleep tax, effective immediately, to be paid by those who have a sleep surplus, such as babies, some elderly persons, and cats. The sleep tax would transfer units of sleep, called "units of sleep," to those with proven sleep debt.

Some, of course, may use their extra units of sleep unwisely, for raucous slumber parties, sleeping through church, etc. But this seems a small price to pay when the alternative is a nation of stupid, clumsy, unhealthy people.

We also need a stimulus package to get people to sleep more. As part of this sleep stimulus package, we might dedicate several hours each afternoon, as a nation, to napping. The traditional office forum for this, known currently as the Afternoon Meeting, is not entirely satisfactory and could be replaced by designated Nap Rooms, such as Joe's company has established in its new building. This would allow us to build up our own sleep reserves so that, in due time, more people could pay the sleep tax.

And if anyone questions your need for sleep in the middle of the day, just tell them you're off to improve your golf game.

The great dig

Compelling as the "vacation" involving tracking and counting mountain lions -- which we highlighted yesterday -- sounds, I'm afraid I've crossed that off our list of potential vacations. Although it it is important to think out of the box, stretch yourself, and all that, I also feel very strongly about staying intact. So I consulted our book about vacations that enrich your life for one that might offer excitement, but not that much excitement.

"You really should read this book," I told Joe. "There's a lot of cool things to do in here."

"Like what?"

"Well, I think there's a trip where you go to this little tourist town and, um, help sell souvenirs..."

"Take that book back to the store," he said.

But then, as I pointed out, we might miss the opportunity to help discover why a bunch of teenage mammoths in North Dakota all perished together in a sinkhole. This involves excavating a mammoth cemetery.

"You don't like dirt," he said.

I have to hand it to him. He brings out the heavy artillery right away.

But for some reason the story intrigues me. It sounds eerily like another I read recently, this time about a group of teenage dinosaurs in Mongolia who all died together in a bunch of mud from which they couldn't escape. Scientists theorize that the adults were not paying attention --will we ever learn? -- and, as teens are wont to do with no supervision, all got together and spray-painted the junior high (which has yet to be excavated). But then something went tragically wrong, and as they fled the scene of their misdeed, they were stopped by the mud, literally in their tracks.

Personally I think it likely that the two incidents are in some way connected. Perhaps some cosmic force was attempting to lure the young of the world away, for some nefarious purpose, and then abruptly abandoned its purpose when the teens wouldn't agree to change their cell phone ringtones to "All Hail the Cosmic Force." It's possible.

But we don't have to travel all the way out west to help dig things up. Although not technically a "vacation," more along the lines of "volunteer labor," there are opportunities to participate in archaeological excavations at Mount Vernon, which is only an hour from our house. Past digs have turned up wig curlers, forks made from animal bones, distillery items, lottery tickets. Okay, no lottery tickets.

Sadly, a dung repository has already been excavated and thoroughly researched, but I'm sure many other exciting opportunities await.

A lion of a vacation

This book we got on vacations is really useful. It's really useful for helping us know what we don't want to do.

For instance, tracking mountain lions in Arizona. According to the book, mountain lions -- which the author insists have "gotten a bum rap" -- are tracked and counted as part of conservation efforts ("No you can't make a spur to Interstate 37 here! This is a community center for twenty-nine juvenile lions! No telling WHAT they'll do if they have no place to hang out after school!").

So you, as someone who is concerned about conserving the natural habitat of mountain lions and preventing the tragedy of juvenile delinquency among them -- or alternatively, as someone who has a death wish -- are invited to join a group of experts in counting the lions. You get extensive training (Trainer [showing picture of mountain lion]: "This is a mountain lion." [showing picture of elephant]: "This is not a mountain lion"). Then you head out to stalk the lions with the experts.

So far, not bad. I would do this. I would do this while remaining in an armored vehicle at all times, with the National Guard surrounding me, and watching for lions on a little video screen at the front of the vehicle.

But the book is quick to point out that the object is not to actually FIND the mountain lions. Phew! I am relieved to know that, although not relieved enough to sign up. You are merely looking for evidence that a lion may have been hanging out in the area, perhaps something along the lines of a note pinned to a tree that says "For a good time, call Arthur. 723-9964."

Lacking that evidence, you can look for other lion signs: footprints, fur, the occasional leftover meal, and "scat." If you are unfamiliar with "scat," may I suggest visiting http://www.bear-tracker.com/animalscat.html. But do not do so within 3 hours of attempting to consume a meal.

Examining any roadkill you might observe and extracting information from it, however, is probably best left to the professionals. The following type of scenario is to be avoided:

Volunteer vacationer (attempting to interview a former animal): Uh, excuse me, Mr., uh -- what was this, anyway? It's kind of hard to tell -- uh, Mr. Deer...we'd like to ask you a few questions, sir.

Former animal: (nothing)

Volunteer (encouraged): OK, then, uh, we're interested in knowing what type of animal you had this, um, run-in with.

Former animal: (nothing)

Volunteer: Uh, it's real important that we get this information, Mr. Deer. This is for science.

Voice from behind: I can tell you who it was. RAWRRRRRRRRRR!

Volunteer: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Professional: Just kidding.

Volunteer: Why, that's a dirty --

Deep voice from nearby: You two puny things looking for me?

Professional and volunteer: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

What the book is not clear about -- maybe this is covered in advanced training -- is whether it is possible, if you follow enough clues, to accidentally find the lion that left those clues. There you are, hot on the trail of some footprints, scat, scattered fur, leftover dinner, more scat, and wham! You step into a clearing and there, right before you, in all the splendor and terror you could have imagined about such a sight, is a group of male mountain lions gathered in a circle, deep in concentration over a game of cards.

I mean, can you imagine what that would do to your efforts to keep out Interstate 37? ("After-school programs my foot. They want us to support a gambling hall!")

Personally I think it is a good thing to keep track of your mountain lions. Say one month you get a count of 427 lions in a particular area, which happens to be in some proximity to your house, and the next month there are only 426.

Uh oh.

So yes, more power to those of you who want to spend your hard-earned vacation time going around collecting fur samples and examining scat and interviewing roadkill in an effort to keep tabs on those lions.

If you see Arthur, tell him I said hi.

In which we seek answers

When we are little, we can't wait to grow up so other people will stop telling us what to do all the time, and we can do whatever we want. Then when we finally do grow up, and reach that point of maturity, we think: Finally! We can make our own decisions now. Just as soon as we consult our therapist. Or TV personalities. Or Google.

Because we don't really make decisions on our own. We rely on others for information, for answers, to tell us what to do.

Joe's answer to pretty much any perplexing life question, for instance, is to Google it. Admittedly this is very helpful for certain things, although it doesn't work for the really important questions, like "Where is the ketchup?" -- although if anyone could figure out a way to find things in the refrigerator by looking on Google, that person could name their price -- or "How mad will my wife be when she finds out I put the white underwear in the washer with the red towels?" Nevertheless it remains many people's first choice for Seeking and Obtaining Information.

My answer to life's perplexing questions is to get a book about it. Joe says I rely too much on expert opinion.

"I don't think Suze Orman would agree with you," I say.

He scoffs at the idea that anyone who has extensively researched an idea, spent years putting this idea into practice, labored over endless drafts of a manuscript to share this knowledge with others, endured a grueling editing and publishing process, become a world expert, etc., could possibly know anything about the topic. Whereas someone writing on a forum online, under the name "Who Wippy Dog," and who demonstrates the grammar skills of a sock, does.

Call me stubborn and old-fashioned, but still I persist in turning to books when I want to know something.

Which is why, as we were contemplating where to vacation this year, my first impulse was to get a travel book. A book that would tell us the absolute coolest places to take a vacation.

One book presented, it said, 100 best vacations to enrich your mind. This sounded very noble. I flipped through the pages, past the spa chapter (which could have been titled "Way Expensive Vacations You Will Never Be Able to Afford") and also past the section about making a difference in other people's lives, because, I admit, we are not so much looking to enrich our lives -- or anyone else's -- as just to have fun.

"Look," I said eagerly, showing a page to Joe. "We could go on an archaeological dig and look for actual artifacts!"

I have always secretly wanted to be an archaeologist, although it proved to be somewhat incompatible with my philosophy of never getting dirty on purpose. There's just something irresistible about poking around for clues to ancient life. Actually, I have had some minor experience with this. Cleaning out my parents' freezer, for example, although I could easily have resisted that experience.

So when I saw this opportunity for a vacation that's all about digging, I thought we are all set. But it is amazing how, after only 3 years (and 10 months, 2 days, 17 hours, 43 seconds) of marriage, you develop an uncanny ability to look at your spouse's face and tell, in a nanosecond, that whatever you have just suggested is the worst idea since ideas were invented. But there is always the chance that you have misread him or her, and so you ask for clarification.

"I'm getting a sense that you really don't want to go around digging in the dirt," I said.

In answer he flipped to another page in the travel book. "HERE we go. 'Weave rugs with tribal elders!' " he said. "That would be so cool!"

I snorted. "Yeah, I'm sure there's a lot of weaving going on in between smoking the peace pipe or whatever it is they smoke."

What is really needed is "separate but parallel vacations." Two opportunities in roughly the same geographical location, but where you get to do your thing, the other person does his or her thing, and everyone's happy. Perhaps, for instance, there is an archaeological site near where the smoking -- I mean, near wheren the rugs are being woven.

I'll have to look for a book on it.

Trade-offs

With Joe's recent switch to a gluten-free diet, our concern for nutritional value is at a new low, eclipsed by the need to find something -- anything -- he can eat. Gluten lurks in everything -- we have become suspicious even of our toilet paper -- and must be thoroughly eschewed, even at the expense of higher fat, higher cholesterol, greater belt size, etc.

Puffin Flakes Cereal? Great! Who cares if it has 8,274 grams of sugar in it? It's gluten free!

Amazon Granola with more calories than ice cream? Load it on!

Ice cream one of the few things you can eat for dessert? Pass me a big spoon!

But thank goodness for companies like Dannon. Although most Dannon yogurt, sadly, cannot be considered gluten free, certain flavors, basically the plain ones, are. Whew! What a relief! And the reason they are gluten free -- this is even more of a relief -- is that they contain "no natural flavorings."

Well, what's the big deal about natural flavors, anyway.

Our concern for taste is also at a new low. Joe is getting used to his hockey-puck bread -- so called not only because of its consistency but also because that's about the size of each piece -- in the way you get used to the thought that at any given time there are roughly 1.3 million microscopic bugs crawling around your bedding.

I read the ingredients for Garbanzo Bean Chocolate Cupcakes and got as far as reading the second step in the directions before I realized I was actually considering making chocolate cake with BEANS.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

To be fair, the recipe did get good reviews. (I read those, too.)

I suspect the truth-in-advertising laws are suspended for gluten-free products. From the taste of some of them, there can't be more than, say, .2% actual food particles in them. The rest is made up possibly of debris from Halley's comet.

This is not to say that everything gluten free tastes bad. There's still rice cakes.

Canyon Dust vs. Go-Go Green

It is a truth universally acknowledged that, out of the approximately 13,874 paint colors known to man (whose name is Benjamin Moore), two spouses, of sound mind and living otherwise harmoniously together in the same dwelling, will be able to agree on: exactly none of them.

One spouse will insist on Fun Colors, defined roughly as anything not Brown, Beige, or White. The other will believe that Heaven itself is filled with shades of Brown, Beige, and White -- although this belief is not based on a strict interpretation of the Bible -- and that their little slice of heaven here on earth should mirror the greater.

These paint preferences are notoriously difficult to change, although it does happen (a documented case occurred on January 16, 1932, in Ketchum, Idaho, where a man finally agreed to let his wife paint the kitchen Wild Manzanita, with the stipulation that she wait until after his death). But do not think you can trick your spouse into believing that a color is fun when in fact it is not. I tried to elicit Joe's support for Muddlement, a color that I hoped might pass for pumpkin -- which he tolerates because it exists in a no-man's land between Fun Colors and Unfun Colors -- but that was, basically, brown. I did not mention this fact.

"How about this one?" I said. "It's sort of pumpkin-y."

He peered at it. "That's brown," he said. "Nice try."

The statistics on wallpaper agreement are even more dismal, if possible. Friends of ours clashed so vehemently over wallpaper samples that the saleswoman grew alarmed, believing a dissolution of their marriage would take place right there in the store.

Although the marriage is still thriving, they have never yet had wallpaper in their home.

*Note: All names of paint colors mentioned in this post are actual -- no whitewashing of the truth HERE -- although I cannot claim acquaintance with anyone who has personally used them.

Ask the Expert II

Today we bring you another important Q & A session on issues pertaining to food. These questions have to do with the food guide pyramid, which has guided generations of consumers (at least since 1992) in making healthy, heart-smart food choices. Unfortunately, in recent years the food guide pyramid has been found, through scientific study, to cause obesity. This was not, of course, the government's fault, but it was considered prudent to come up with a new system, which is called the "food guidance system."

Q: What is the food guidance system?

A: The food guidance system is a representation that divides various foods into groups based on taste. Based on research showing an absolute inverse relation between the nutritional value of a food and its taste, the new pyramid has several vertical sections, labeled roughly "Foods that Taste Awesome (Do Not Eat Any of These)," "Mediocre-Tasting Foods (Eat More of These)," and "Healthy, Eat-All-You-Want Foods that Taste Like Tree Bark."

Q: Does the new system include exercise?

A: Of course it does! The government knows you're not going to stick to foods you are supposed to eat, so in order to work off all the foods you eat that taste good, you must exercise. The new system therefore depicts a person ascending a staircase to represent the role of exercise in a healthy lifestyle. Alternatively, this person might possibly represent a wandering soul in search of an approved food that does not taste like tree bark.

Q: Why is the new food guidance system better than the old pyramid?

A: Clearly, one size does not fit all when it comes to diet (particularly since consumers are growing collectively larger). Therefore, the new system allows consumers to individualize their eating plan based on their age, gender, body mass, astrological sign, birth order, political party affiliation, personal beliefs about whether Jell-o is an actual food, and other important factors.

Q: How does a consumer go about individualizing his or her food guidance system?

A: The new pyramid is blank, and you fill in your own food requirements. In extreme cases, pyramids should be left blank indefinitely, and no food should be consumed.

Q: The pyramid doesn't show any actual food categories? That doesn't seem like much "guidance."

A, really a Q: Do you think the government can solve all your problems?

Q, really an A: Yes.

A: Then I have some bailout funds for you.

Q: Um, so, in the old food pyramid, fats, oils, and sweets were at the top of the pyramid. Why?

A: Because they were considered the top priority in a healthful, happy diet. People were encouraged to consume plenty of these foods, especially sweets. This had nothing to do with the increase in obesity among consumers who followed the food guide pyramid.

Q: What do the different colors in the new pyramid represent?

A: These colors correspond to your personal color type, i.e., whether you are a Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall, All-Season Person, Rainy, Drippy, Sleety, etc. If you are a Fall person, for example, the foods shown in the fall colors on the pyramid will make you appear thinner.

Q: I'm a Spring, but there aren't any pastel colors on the pyramid.

A: This means you are free to choose whatever foods you want. You can blame the government for the consequences.

Q: Do other societies have different food pyramids?

A: Recent discoveries indicate that a certain society, which shall remain nameless, has a pyramid containing categories for "chemical enhancements" and "unidentified proteins."

Q: Ugh!

A: Yes.

Q: What is wrong with the average American diet today?

A: WE'RE SORRY, ATTEMPTING TO ANSWER THIS QUESTION HAS CAUSED OUR SYSTEM TO CRASH. THAT WILL BE ALL FOR TODAY.

Lord, it's me

You know, Lord, You sure do have a sense of humor. People say You often answer prayers in ways we don't expect. Well, when I prayed that You would help me figure out how to balance all the things I have to get done in a day -- sleeping, eating, eating some more, sleeping; there's never enough time! -- I certainly did not expect that Your solution would involve Joe, health food stores, and bread that tastes like hockey pucks because it is gluten free.

Nope, didn't see that coming at all. In fact, it didn't hit me at first that that was Your answer.

I guess I was expecting, You know, to get a maid, or a personal chef. A personal chef would be nice. Really nice. No more spending precious brain cells -- which don't seem to be as plentiful as they used to be, by the way; do You have any remedy for that? -- on what to make for dinner. No more schlepping around the grocery store on Saturday mornings when I could be doing more productive things, like sleeping. No more spending two hours every evening cooking.

Well, in a way I don't have to worry about those things anymore. Joe does a lot of the cooking now, with the few little ingredients he can have, poor thing. He's shopped for food more in the last four weeks than he has in the last four years. So it's helped a lot, really it has.

But You know, Lord, if You don't mind my saying so, and if it doesn't seem too ungrateful of me, I'm getting a little tired of stir-fry.

Now, I like stir-fry. Especially when someone else goes to the trouble of making it for me, like Joe's been doing. But even with different ingredients every night, it still tastes pretty much the same. It really is true that a lot of things taste like chicken.

What's that, Lord? You say I'm starting to sound like the children of Israel in the wilderness? You mean the ones who got in BIG trouble when they started complaining about the manna You sent them? Well, You know, when I think about it, stir-fry really is pretty tasty. And there's nothing wrong with eating chicken, or chicken-like food, every night. No, Sir, nothing at all. Things aren't too bad here after all, I guess.

But maybe You could just think about that personal chef idea...?

In which I am out-beveraged

I have oft been ridiculed for my belief -- which I freely put into practice -- in carrying Excess Luggage, in the form of Multiple Beverages, during the course of my daily exhausting and complex missions. These include going to work, to Target, the bank, the mailbox, etc. I may leave the house with only a water bottle, but at the end of the day that water, like a wantonly multiplying pair of rabbits, has spawned a Diet Coke, a hot chocolate, an eggnog latte, another bottle of water, etc., all of which I require considerable assistance maneuvering into the house when I return.

But occasionally, in a lapse of sanity, I forget to bring along a drink. And so I was on the plane last week, minus any beverages, wondering how long it would be until I started to dehydrate, and whether this process is hastened by high altitude, and whether this situation constituted a Necessary Emergency about which I should alert the nearest flight attendant, when a woman stopped at the end of my row and began to settle her belongings. This temporarily distracted me from my impending death by dehydration, until I saw her belongings.

From somewhere the woman took out a drink carrier containing coffee and some sort of slushie, which she carefully placed on the floor in front of the seat between us. She sat down in the aisle seat and pulled a bottle of water from her bag, which went into the seat pocket in front of her. Next to the bottle of water appeared a bottle of fruit juice. She arranged these beverages lovingly, as if they were her prized poodles.

And when the beverage cart came -- the official beverage cart -- she got a tomato juice and a little slice of lime to go with it.

Within a matter of seconds the Beverage Queen had completely commandeered the seat between us and all its associated space. I wondered how she knew no one would be sitting in that seat. Maybe she had purchased both seats for this very purpose. I imagined her entering her passenger information.

Number of passengers: 2
Passenger 1: 1 adult, 13 or older
Passenger 2: 4 beverages, 1/2 hour old or less

Was she trying to use the onboard restroom, the very thought of which caused me to shudder? But not once did she leave her seat, which made me greatly wonder.

Was she drinking for two? Or maybe three or four or five? There must be some great need in her life that drove her to such extremes. Perhaps her mother hadn't loved her enough?

We were sternly warned by the Doom Announcer that if we had to exit the plane in a necessary emergency, we were not to attempt to take any of our carry-on belongings. Surely they would make an exception for the Beverage Queen, but tough decisions would have to be made. Take the tomato juice and leave the slushie? I shook my head and was grateful that it was not me in that situation. Although a water would taste really great right about now. Or a Diet Coke. Or a tea. Or a water and a Diet Coke and a tea...

In the unlikely event you are listening

According to airline surveys located in the seat pocket in front of you, fewer than -.0001% of airplane passengers listen to the pre-flight safety instructions recited by flight attendants, although most manage to catch the important parts, such as "WATER LANDING," "PEANUTS WILL BE SERVED," "SAVE YOURSELF BEFORE OTHERS," etc. But I encourage people to pay attention to these instructions because, in the unlikely event of an emergency, they may just save your life. Alternatively, they can make you more confused, as happened on a recent flight.

"In the event of a water landing," our Doom Announcer on Flight 903 intoned, "a flotation device is located under you, or..." -- here she paused slightly, as if uncertain that this was, in fact, true 100% of the time, and appeared to decide that she could not make that claim -- "...somewhere around you," she finished, with more confidence.

This left the passengers -- the -0001% who were listening -- to wonder what "around us" might be masquerading as a flotation device. A pillow? a blanket? the SkyMall magazine? the passenger next to us?

The Doom Announcer went on. "If an emergency becomes necessary, please use the nearest exit to leave the plane."

I'm sure that it is a not an easy thing for the crew to determine whether a particular emergency is necessary. I imagined the pilots discussing some event at 33,000 feet, such as a possible water landing due to engine failure, and attempting to diagnose the necessity of it:

Pilot 1: "Well, Ernie, what do you think? Is this emergency necessary?"

Pilot 2: "Gee, Fred, it's hard to say. (peers at instrument panel, on which every light is blinking frantically) I just have to go with my gut feeling here, and I don't think this emergency has reached the necessary stage yet. Besides, we don't want to scare the passengers unnecessarily."

We were then instructed by the Doom Announcer that, should we have to exit the plane due to a necessary emergency, we should "move away from the plane and not look back." Images of Lot's wife turning to a pillar of salt for this very offense immediately filled my mind, and I vowed silently that, should a necessary emergency force me to evacuate the plane, I would not look back.

Except maybe to find my flotation device, if I ever figured out what it was.

The second key to good decorating

In the previous post we discussed the building block of good decorating, which is having a dog. Of course, a dog is only the beginning of tasteful decorating. To this beginning you must add paint -- to the room, of course, not the dog, and if your painting skills are anything like ours, when you start painting you will want the dog and any other objects you value well out of the way, preferably in Switzerland.

As we saw with the dog, home decorating magazines are a good place to get inspiration for paint colors and schemes.* As one magazine declares, "It's amazing what you can do with paint." It IS amazing, because when you look at the photos in these magazines, it is difficult to detect any actual paint.

Walls in these homes -- we call them homes, although it has never been documented that anyone actually lives in them -- are covered with enormous picture windows overlooking the ocean, grand fireplaces, built-in bookcases, objects d'art, etc., leaving very little room for paint. In contrast, the walls of the average homeowner's dwelling are covered with: holes from misplaced photographs, or perhaps a spouse's overzealousness at searching for a hidden fireplace behind the wall.**

*Our readers might wonder what the difference is between a paint color and a paint scheme. Paint colors are, of course, things like red, blue, ecru, daylight, twilight, midnight madness, etc., whereas a paint scheme is defined as "an effort on the part of an individual to win over a reluctant spouse in the matter of preferred paint color. Often includes begging and, when warranted, threats or deception."

**Not that we, personally, have any experience with this particular situation.

The result is that there is actually very little paint needed for the walls you see in the photos. Whereas when we paint, even with the same exact color mentioned in the story accompanying the picture, we have four painted walls staring at us, begging for something to cover their nakedness and shame, some objects d'art, or at least some objects.

Unfortunately we do not have time today to discuss more on this issue of decorating, but we will return to the subject once the Princess and Hero return from their short trip, which will, happily, involve no meal preparation or cleaning or paint scheming.

This blog is officially on sabbatical until next week.

The key to good decorating

If you are searching for some ideas to spruce up your home, you can do no better than look through some home magazines to see the latest in decorating thought. Of course, there is no relation whatsoever between the homes you see featured in these magazines and your home, but everyone needs to dream.

However, the good news is that there is a simple secret to elegant decorating, which becomes apparent after you have looked through a couple hundred of these magazines. Think about all of the homes you have ever seen featured. What do they all have in common?

A dog.

Whenever you see someone's home showcased, there is always a dog somewhere in the picture. Usually it is reclining before a hearth, the epitome of contentment and tranquility. The message seems to be: If your dog can be comfortable in this room, so can you!

In fact, one of the requirements to have your home featured in this manner is that you have a dog. And it is always a particular kind of dog, usually something sweet and friendly, like a golden retriever. If a homeowner owns a dog with a less than perfect image -- say, a chihuahua, or a pit bull -- the decorators, who are skilled at staging (which is French for "bringing things into the home that the owners would never in a million years consider displaying") will bring in a more friendly-type dog, often a golden retriever named Rex.

So if you already have a dog, that "decorator's best friend," take heart! You already have the basic building block of the "showcase home." Now all you need is $5,000,000 for decorator fees.