Are you alive? You may have Alzheimer's

If you've been paying attention, you may have noticed that pretty much everything we inhale, ingest, touch, or think about in our spare time is suspected of causing Alzheimer's. If you HAVEN'T noticed, it may be because...you already have Alzheimer's. Just kidding!


But seriously, according to experts and people who run websites, there are many things that MAY increase your risk of getting the disease and should therefore be avoided: Aerosol hairspray. Stress. Fast food. Processed food. Too much learning. Not enough learning. An overprotective brain. Carpet. GPS units. Even looking in the mirror too often may cause Alzheimer's!*


Personally I can see a case for a GPS indirectly leading to brain dysfunction via stress, at least the way things work in OUR car ("The GPS said to turn right." "I know." "Well, why didn't you turn right?" "It doesn't know what it's talking about." "But it's a satellite!" "I know." "Then why didn't you turn right?" etc.).


Whole classes of foods have been, at various times, implicated in Alzheimer's (meaning "if you even look at these foods you will lose all your brain cells by age 32"). These foods are never things like sauerkraut. Or Spam. Or jellied moose nose. No, the foods that may cause our brain cells to shrivel and die are always things that contain plenty of our favorite ingredients, such as saturated fat. 


Take, for instance, foods known as "quickly digested carbs," such as refined grains, candy, pastries, etc. According to at least one study, eating these foods may increase your chances of getting Alzheimer's. Now, where are the studies that say pastries are GOOD for your brain? That if you eat, oh, 5 or more servings per week, you are almost guaranteed NOT to get Alzheimer's? This suggests a troubling question: Have we in America become so morally conscious that we cannot find ways to bribe the people who carry out these studies??


Apparently so. And, not satisfied with telling us what we shouldn't have, researchers have also come up with some things we should do that can help keep our brain cells healthy. Some involve eating foods that, frankly, would not be considered fit for humans during a famine. 


Other things that are brain-friendly involve "intellectually stimulating activities." (Just so we are clear, picking one's nose is, technically, not an intellectually stimulating activity).


According to some studies, crossword puzzles qualify as intellectually stimulating activities and may therefore lower the chances that you'll get Alzheimer's. (They may also help lower your popularity in social situations if you start taking crossword puzzles a little too seriously: "So, how are your sanguine paroxysm neologisms doing these days?" But this seems a small price to pay.)


But it's not clear if there really IS a benefit from such activities, and we may be doing all those puzzles, and jeopardizing our social status, for nothing. I personally am waiting for the study that shows you do not actually have to DO the crossword puzzles to get the protective benefit from them: "Studies show that you can reduce your chances of getting Alzheimer's by 95% if you own a crossword puzzle book, or subscribe to a newspaper that carries one, and if, on occasion, you pass by and gaze upon the book or newspaper containing the puzzle." I would be willing to fund that study.


In the meantime, be sure to limit your time in front of the mirror.


______________________
*Not really. But if this worried you, it probably means you DO look in the mirror too often.

A rare look at the Bugzooka in action

Readers may recall that the Hero recently, in what he admits was a "weak moment," purchased something called the Bugzooka, which he has employed in the ongoing battle against stink bugs at our home. 


The Bugzooka is basically a long tube with a bellows at one end and a trap door at the other, specially outfitted for bug-snatching capabilities. You compress the bellows, aim the tube, and push a button to suck the offending party in. And voila! Five hundred tries later you finally entrap the offending party, along with particles of dust, your arm hairs, tiny scraps remaining from breakfast, sections of the living room wall, etc.


Just kidding, of course. If you're good, you trap your SPOUSE'S arm hairs. 


Among the Bugzooka's many virtues are that, number 1, it greatly appeals to males (the website also says "Kids love it!" but, ahem, we are making no comparisons). This may be because it hearkens back to a time when males roamed the land with blunderbusses, terrifying the local wildlife population -- a time that today's males, personally, may never have experienced but nevertheless inexplicably find themselves hearkening back to.


At any rate, if you have a male in your home, and you have a Bugzooka in your home, the male is just about guaranteed to volunteer to grab it and go after whatever it is you need him to go after. 


Second, the Bugzooka leaves behind no mess to clean up, as may occur when, say, a shoe or a section of wood (think 2x4) is employed in the bug elimination process. (Yes, the Princess has, before the Hero came on the scene, employed a 2x4 in the bug elimination process.)


A Female Relative who was visiting recently had the rare privilege of seeing the Bugzooka in action. The incident took place just after dinner. Actually dinner was not quite over, but after the incident was concluded we agreed unanimously that we had no further interest in dinner.


The incident proceeded thus:


Female Relative (amazingly calm): There appears to be a cricket on the kitchen floor.


Princess (amazingly uncalm): Get the fly swatter!* Call the Coast Guard! The Marines! Ghostbusters! Somebody!


Hero (disappearing and then reappearing again like Clark Kent, only without a costume and brandishing a weapon): We've got something better...Bugzooka!


FR (tentatively): Um, why don't you just...step on it?


H: Because we've got Bugzooka!


(Here the cricket proved somewhat difficult to snatch up with the Bugzooka, and it freely made its way around the kitchen, exploring various crevices, deftly avoiding the Hero and the evil tube. In the background the Female Relative made several stomping motions.)


FR (helpfully): You could just step on it.


H (finally zapping the cricket): Got it!


FR: I would've just stepped on it.


Luckily for her, the Bugzooka does not work on Female Relatives. 


*Note: It has come to our attention that fly swatters are, according to the Bugzooka website, "violent." The website says nothing, however, about 2x4s.

And to all a good year

Well, the new school year is well underway in our area, although there is some disagreement about when, exactly, it began. According to district calendars, school opened about a month ago, but students contend that it has been "forever." 


In honor of this occasion -- whenever it was -- we would like to offer a random sampling of student opinion on the subject of school starting. (This random sample consists entirely of students we know personally.)


Student #1: Angst-ridden kindergartner facing the first day of school.
Child (with impressive wailing): I CAN'T go to kindergarten, Mom! I don't know how to do math!
Mother: You don't have to know math first, honey. You'll learn it in kindergarten.
Student (with immediate cessation of wailing): Really? Cool.


Student #2: Self-assured kindergartner who attended a preschool that encouraged children to take the initiative and speak their own minds.
Mother: So, how was your first day of kindergarten?
Child: Uh, okay. But the teacher talks too much.
Mother: What did she say?
Child: She said I talk too much.


Student #3: Scholarly kindergartner who, we expect, will be running the class soon.
Mother: What did you learn in school today?
Child: We really don't learn anything in kindergarten, you know. Well, except during Cooperative Learning time, which is really just play time.


Student #4: The Hero (with a protracted sigh): Class doesn't start 'til the middle of October.


The Princess (with great joy): The Hero's class doesn't start 'til the middle of October! More time for him to cook dinners, do laundry, vacuum...


And so, to all you young students out there, the Hero wishes to say: Enjoy school! Stay as long as you can! Especially if you're a boy.

Hoist the barber haulers!

Sailing, as we discovered, is a discipline with its own distinct terminology. The first thing to know is that none of it is in English. At the very least, it takes great liberties with the English most of us know. This is evident, for example, from a quick look through a book the Hero acquired on the subject. Here, in no particular order, are some important things one will have to study in order to be knowledgeable about sailing:


Inserting the gooseneck into the mast
Attaching the mainsheet rachet block to the traveler car
Using travelers and barber haulers
Beating in a blow
Stepping the mast, stepping a hinged mast, straight lift stepping (Note: These are NOT dance terms)
Balancing a cat from the trapeze


When I first looked over the contents of the book, everything looked pretty complicated, so I flipped right away to the section on "Drowning." I figured that in the event I was unable to master anything else in the book -- which was likely -- a section on how to avoid drowning might come in handy.


During our lesson, Captain Russ gave us instructions and used terms that were not covered in this particular book. Below are a couple of these, along with their definitions as we understood them:


The other left
When making any maneuver with the vessel, whichever way you initially move will be wrong, and you will need to move in the opposite direction. This term may be used to cover up the fact that you really aren't sure which way is left (things are so different out on the water, aren't they?).


Mayday, mayday!
This cry of alarm is to be used only in EXTREME emergencies, such as when you unfurl the sails in the boat and a gazillion spiders drop out and start running all over the place. Or when a rogue wave washes over the boat and ruins your hairdo. Don't you HATE that?


To help you learn additional terms and maneuvers involved in sailing, we have prepared a helpful quiz. (If you need answers, well, maybe sailing really isn't for you.)


1. the luff; sailing by the luff
a. the flagging of sails due to improper trim or heading
b. a place located somewhere on one's posterior, as in "sailing by the luff of your pants"


2. hoisting the jib
a. raising the forward sail
b. attempting to tell one's crew member to lift Jim aft when one has a cold


3. popping the battens
a. giving the boom a push-pull to get the sail supports on the right side
b. a safety maneuver performed on one's trousers when one has had too much for lunch

4. jib barber hauler
a. a line attached to the forward sail
b. the name of a commercial bus transporting hair cutters named Jim with colds


5. Boomvang
a. a system used to hold the boom down
b. the sound occurring immediately after whoever is operating the boat says, "Uh, oh"


You now know about as much as the Hero and I do about sailing. Happy jibing!

Boat safety 101

Captain Russ, our sailing instructor, was very firm on safety rules. He did not, for example, allow us to just roam around on the boat while we were underway, probably because we would have ended up in someone's lap. This would have been awkward among us strangers, although it would have been perfectly fine during the three-day certification course, where, as Captain Russ repeatedly told us in an effort to interest us in taking it, students all become fast, enduring friends.

He also repeatedly admonished us that if we were going swimming off a boat -- which we were not engaging in that particular day, but he knew the temptation would arise eventually -- to make sure we put the swimming ladder down into the water. If we forgot, he warned, we would end up like many swimmers who, forgetting to do this, frantically try to claw their way back into the boat, making effort after fruitless effort, and finally, exhausted, turn into mermaids.

The captain was so vehement about this rule that I expected him to make us take an oath:

I, as a potential operator of, or passenger on, a sailing vessel, doth fully understand the imperativeness of always lowering the swimming ladder into the water when any passenger shall be swimming, and do hereby resolve to do so, and doth further understand that if I foolishly and knowingly doth disregard this rule, I carelessly invite disaster, which may include my demise or, worse, my becoming a mermaid.

Occasionally Captain Russ did not seem to act in accord with his own safety instructions, such as when he let ME operate the engine while heading back to moor the boat. He assumed I would immediately be able to recognize, from his descriptions, the choke, the starter, and the "red button." (In my defense, I maintain that the red button was actually pink.)

Captain Russ was extremely patient with this identification process, although I noticed that when my attention was needed to pull the boat alongside the moor, he hastily offered to take care of cutting the engine. No doubt he had visions of my doing the opposite, resulting in not only overshooting our mooring spot but overshooting boats, seagulls, buoys, bridges, etc., and end up coming to rest on someone's $900,000 second-floor condo.

We were told that our boat "did not like wind." We may be excused for finding this announcement somewhat alarming. Were we then safer NOT trying to catch any wind? Should we just drive right into the dead zone? And what would happen if we did catch some wind?

We found out what would happen. Several times, in unthinking moments, we actually caught some wind, and the boat rolled dangerously to one side. The captain, however, assured us that we would not actually go over. This was said as the boat continued to heel to one side. (NOTE: "Heel" in sailing terms does NOT mean the same thing as saying "Heel" to a dog.) The Hero felt the need to clarify what "not actually going over" meant.

Hero (as the boat is lying almost horizontal): But you say it won't actually roll over?

Captain Russ: Nah. Well, it COULD, but it probably won't.

Hero: It probably won't roll over?

Captain Russ: No, definitely not.

Hero: So it won't.

Captain Russ: Probably, nope.

While this helpful conversation was occurring, I and the remaining passenger, another woman, were taking evasive measures -- holding tightly to anything that was not moving, praying, making sure the swimming ladder was down, etc.

At one point when I was in control of the rudder (another of Captain Russ's lapses in safety judgment), he and the other female student were taking down a sail in preparation for mooring, when suddenly, of its own accord, the boat started heeling to one side. The captain and passenger engaged in an impromptu little dance in an effort to keep their balance, and Captain Russ, who had been so casual with his "we probably won't capsize," yelled, "What was THAT?" 

"You were right," I said innocently. "I guess the boat doesn't like wind."

On the ocean blue (OK, the bay)

Last Saturday was one of the coldest and grayest days we have had so far this month -- other than hurricane visitation days -- so the Hero and I took advantage of it by taking a sailing lesson out on the Chesapeake Bay. WE were serious students. WE would not be distracted from our instruction by sun or warmth or anything pleasant. This strategy worked well, although it turns out that uncontrollable shivering can also be a very effective distraction. 


When the Hero first suggested that we learn how to sail, he read a description from the company's website to reassure me. "Listen, it says 'The basics of sailing can be mastered by nearly everyone.' See? It's easy."


It was the "nearly" that concerned me.


But our instructor, Captain Russ, was very friendly and reassuring. He wanted to know our goals for the lesson. Did we actually want to learn something, or did we just want to sit back and have a pleasant experience?


I looked at the Hero. THAT was an option? To ENJOY myself?


But no one else chose that option, so I pretended that I, too, wanted to learn something rather than have a good time. 


I set a pretty straightforward goal: I was most interested in "how to make the sailboat go where you want it to go," or, failing that, "how to make the sailboat go at all."


Before we got on the boat, Captain Russ introduced some important sailing terms, starting with the major parts of the boat. It seemed to me that many of these names suggested pain -- boom, jibe, winch. After a while I could no longer remember what was what, and continued to use terms that seemed to me more descriptive, such as flap, pointy thing, swinging thing, ouchie thing, etc.


I don't mind saying that of all the students -- a grand total of three -- I was the best at keeping the boat pointed in the right direction at all times. The others regularly wandered off course when they were in charge, distracted by having to adjust the sails or something else irrelevant. Not me. If Captain Russ told me to aim for the stone building on the other shore, by golly I was gonna aim for the stone building on the other shore. I was so good at this task that even after we left the boat and got into our car to come home I was still muttering, "Keep your eye on the stone building, keep your eye on the stone building..." Luckily the Hero was driving.


Naturally, this focusing on the goal meant I could not pay attention to various other minor details, like avoiding other boats in our path. Captain Russ went over some of the rules for right of way on the water, but astrophysics seemed easier to understand. I quickly distilled all the rules into one, easy-to-understand rule: Everyone stay clear of our boat, like several miles downstream.


Captain Russ talked several times of the virtues of enrolling in the three-day sailing course, at the end of which we would be certified to take a boat out on our own. On this boat we could take our friends and family and everyone we valued most, provided that if any of them found reason to question and, perhaps, sue the individual who had instructed us, we would forget that we had ever heard of Captain Russ. 


But he assured us that students who take the course become very close with each other during the three days of being crammed in a tight little space far from land, and they become lifelong friends. This is probably because at some point during the course, they realize that these are the people they will most likely perish with if anything goes wrong.


We have not decided yet whether to pursue a longer course. But if we do, it won't be hard to identify me. I'll be the one heading toward the stone building.




For further information, we present a short Q&A about the three-day certification course:


Q: If I take the certification course, will I FINALLY reach the stone building across the bay??


A: Yes. And your fellow students will be more than happy to drop you off there. 


Q: Great! And when would they pick me up again?


A: On the fourth day.


Q: On the fourth -- but, uh...


A: Oh, look, we're out of time for questions! Enjoy your course!

Falling for fall

Every year at this time many people -- by which I mean me -- have to be dragged into fall kicking and screaming. We are not ready to say goodbye to summer yet. We do not care if the temperature has dropped into the 50s or 60s; we still want to go to the beach. We still want to wear shorts. We do not want to get out our full-length pants and our long-sleeved shirts and our sweater sets that make us itchy. In time, however -- and with the help of a compassionate, patient personal therapist -- we reluctantly accept that it is fall. This usually occurs around January 15.


THIS year, however, it is only mid-September and I am actually looking forward to fall. Normally it would have started making its presence felt by now. But THIS year, it is, perversely, sunny and in the 80s.


I blame this entirely on the fact that this year I shopped for fall clothes early in the season -- usually another thing I have to be dragged into kicking and screaming -- and am ready and eager to wear them all. This act has obviously triggered a reversal of the normal progression of seasons.


So now there is a dilemma: Continue to act as if fall is imminent (in which case it MIGHT come by January 15), or go along with the ruse that it is still summer? The latter brings the danger of starting to believe that it actually IS still summer, and you might -- if you were the Hero and I -- do something rash, like, oh, schedule a sailing lesson. Which we did. For the day after tomorrow.


It seemed like a good idea a few weeks ago. Even a few days ago. Shoot, yesterday would have been perfect weather to go sailing. But today...today has become, quite suddenly, fall.


At least I'll have something to wear.


Update on the Battle of the Stink Bugs: The Hero has informed me that he is, quote, "sick of dealing with the stink bugs" and has therefore enlisted a new weapon in their disposal: the BugZooka. He confesses that he bought it in a "weak moment." We're sure there will continue to be periodic updates on this affair.

Hero vs. stink bugs

The Hero has valiantly taken up the call to arms against the current enemy in our home: the stink bug. It has been almost two months since the Great Yellow Jacket invasion, so we were due for something -- ants, flies, locusts, SOMETHING. Our home cannot remain bug-free for very long, due to Homeowner's Association rules.


The Hero called in expert reinforcement to help fight the yellow jackets. The reinforcement told us that we had done the right thing by having him come, because a yellow jacket's sting is very dangerous. "If it stings you in the eye, you'll never see again," he warned. "And if it gets you in the throat, well...it's all over."


Already we were feeling our throats close up. But that might have been due to the reinforcement's charge for his services.


Whatever was applied to the yellow jackets' nest was extremely effective: They left the nest, and then came in the house.


"It might take a while for them to die out," the reinforcement said when we called and frantically told him they were in the house.


Meanwhile, we protected our throats and eyes as best we could.


To keep them from invading the rest of the house, we quarantined some rooms. If we had to go into these rooms, we had established procedures for making sure no yellow jackets came in with us:


1. Conduct recon on the outside of the door to determine that there are no enemies lurking.
2. Carefully open the door, run inside, and slam the door shut.
3. Duct-tape all around the door's opening. 
4. Hope you do not need to use the bathroom anytime soon.
5. If hunger sets in, call for pizza delivery and have it sent in through the window.


We continue these tactics with the stink bugs, who are far less dangerous but just as annoying, because when the Lord told Abraham that his descendants would be "as the sands of the sea," the stink bugs thought He was talking about THEM. They have multiplied accordingly, many of them apparently right on our property.


We have therefore taken very seriously our right to defend our home and property, using a variety of techniques for getting rid of them. I personally recommend the use of two pieces of highly specialized equipment: a fly swatter and a toilet. 


But this method being slow and cumbersome, the Hero continues to be on the forefront of investigating new techniques against the stink bugs. Wherever his quest leads, we know what will be on the other side of this invasion: Something else to bug us.

"May I help you?": A whole new level

With all the current attention on economic bills and job acts, it seems fitting to call attention to  a little-known congressional act that has been in effect at least as long as I have been shopping independently for clothing, at about 3 years of age (Me: "Me not wear DAT! ME pick out." Mom: "Fine. Here's some money. Bye.").


This act stipulates that salespersons must pester those customers who are "just looking," and steadfastly ignore any who actually desire to be helped. If a customer goes so far as to attempt purchase an item, the salesperson, after ringing up the purchase, is forbidden to tell the customer how much is owed, and is expected to stare at the customer and force him or her to guess the total and hand over an appropriate amount of money. 


The only salespersons exempt from this act, as a group, are those selling appliances. These individuals not only follow you around as you compare various refrigerators or washers but will also, unbidden, come to your house to make helpful suggestions about placement of your new appliance, as well give you advice on any other furnishings you may happen to have lying around. A congressional act is required to get rid of these individuals.


On a recent shopping trip I encountered a salesperson at a clothing store who must have, at one time, worked in appliances, and been an exemplary employee there. She filled my arms with a number of items that she thought I might be interested in, and made helpful suggestions, such as pointing out that the long-sleeve tees were buy one get one half off, and she couldn't help but notice that I was holding only one.


"Why don't I just start a fitting room for you?" she said, and took all the clothes out of my hands again to deposit them in the back until I had satisfied myself -- and more importantly, her -- that there was nothing else I wanted to try on.


When I finally presented myself at the fitting room, and she unlocked it, I found that she had laid everything out as neatly as a personal valet: tops were folded and lay in a neat row on the bench, all exactly the same distance apart and forming a color spectrum from dark to light. The hanging items were all arranged into perfectly coordinated outfits.


I thanked her and closed the door hastily, afraid that she might try to come in and dress me.


She continued her solicitations while I tried everything on. making frequent inquiries about how things were coming along, whether I needed anything in a different size or a different color, any questions about fabric care, fabric construction, choosing appliances, etc. 


I half expected her to offer personalized in-home service to coordinate any new purchases I might make with my existing clothing. Or to lay out my clothes each morning in her meticulous manner. Or to say, "How long have you been wearing THIS?"


In the end, the ratio of wanted to rejected items was roughly 2:367. Feeling extremely guilty at not taking more items, I began to plot how I might slip past her notice. But people of her caliber have a highly developed awareness of customer aversion tactics, and she spotted me immediately at the checkout even though I tried to stay crouched down on the floor, one hand slinking upwards to wave my credit card at the cashier.


"How did we do?" the saleswoman said brightly.


"I...I took a FEW things," I said feebly, and covered up this failure by offering my profuse thanks. 


I slunk out of the store as soon as I could. I did not want to be around when the next customer came in: "Uh, hi, I'm looking for --"


"Find it yourself," my helpful salesperson would probably snarl.


And maybe she'd go back to appliances.

Minimal effort

Update on local natural disasters: In a recent post we suggested that, since our area has recently experienced a spate of natural disasters, including ones that we do not usually have here, perhaps we were also due for a volcanic eruption. We evidently neglected to make it clear that we were just kidding.


Although there has been no volcanic eruption, Hurricane Irene, apparently miffed at being labeled "lame," has ordered Tropical Storm Lee to, quote, "let 'em have it." Flood waters are erupting in inconvenient places, such as down the main street of our town. We believe the prudent course of action is to stop talking about natural disasters, effective immediately. That, and perhaps get the boogie board out.


For some time now the Hero has been resolved that we should live a minimalist lifestyle, making our home a model of freedom from clutter and excess. To this end he scours articles, photos, anything that depicts and glorifies the minimalist lifestyle and expounds upon how to achieve it.


"Look," he will say in reverential tones while browsing the web, "here's a picture of a minimalist living room."


I will peer at the picture, which depicts a room that would look not out of place in a prison. It contains a couch, a TV, and a box of Kleenex that appears to double as a coffee table.


"But where do they put their stuff?" I say.


"What stuff?"


"The stuff they use to LIVE," I say.


"That's it," he says. "That's what they live with."


"Impossible," I declare. "They must have a hidden closet somewhere." 


"We should live like that," he says wistfully, looking again at the picture.


"Or we could just tack up the picture somewhere."


He reminds me of our own goal to pare down.


"I never agreed to become a minimalist," I point out. "My lips have never repeated the Oath of Minimalism."


He is chagrined at having overlooked this.


It's not as if I don't support the idea to some degree. In fact, I support anything that will mean less cleaning and straightening. I do object to my living room looking like a prison cell, though.


For a long time even the Hero's commitment to living with less stuff waxed and waned. I knew he was serious when boxes of homeless computer parts, even whole computers, began to leave our house. For the Hero, this is like sending a child off to strangers, never to know of their eventual fate.


"I'm so proud of you," I say.


"Well, I had to make room so we can get a smaller computer," he says.


I remind him of his -- our -- goal. "There's no computer in that minimalist photo," I say.


He does not see this as jeopardizing the goal. Ever the mathematical thinker, he declares that net space is being conserved, and therefore we are still within the bounds of minimalization.


I have coped with the effort of advancing toward minimalism indoors by becoming a maximalist outdoors. The garden, the patio -- ah, here clutter is still welcome...


"Can we PLEASE not have any more hanging flower baskets on the porch?? They keep getting in my way!"


...at least welcome to me.

Hurricane Pfffft

Although it seems, according to estimates of power outages that occurred due to Hurricane Irene (at last count, approximately 37 billion homes, businesses, yurts, ant farms, etc.) that pretty much everyone was involved to some degree in Irene's sweep up the East Coast, we realize there may be some who missed the whole thing. This would include those of us who were actually THERE for the whole thing.


The hype about the coming hurricane was such that our electricity went out even before anything began to happen, as if the power grid just figured it would be easier to surrender early. And then it stayed off for some time after the storm passed, apparently just to be sure.


But for the most part, the most popular word to describe the hurricane was "lame." 


To give you a better idea of the whole experience, we present here a dramatic rendering of the before and after (including exact quotes):


Before: A hurricane is coming! We need batteries! Water! Milk! Cardboard! Duct tape! Aaaaaggggggghhhhhh!


After: Uh, did we miss something?


Many people, deprived by the lameness of the storm of being able to tell any convincing survivor's tales, nevertheless found things to be indignant about. One of the Hero's acquaintances, who lives not far from us, complained to the Hero about the personal suffering the storm had caused him: "Dude...did you, like, lose a bunch of cable channels?"


"Dude," said the Hero, "we lost, like, electricity and phone. And CABLE. It's STILL out."


And instantly the Hero was catapulted into the realm of Brave Hurricane Survivors.


Although of course we are glad that nothing terrible occurred around us, we admit we had been hoping for something that might offer a spectacular opportunity for our annual Christmas newsletter photo (perhaps something like "Elvis Helps Local Residents with Community Clean-Up"). We could use some new ideas for the annual photo, perhaps even new subjects (really, do the Hero and I even have to be in it?), as the photo, like Hurricane Irene, is in grave danger of descending into "lame."


But of course we haven't exhausted natural disasters yet. There is still the possibility, for example, that we may be due for a volcanic eruption soon...

This week's weather brought to you by...

An official note from the Princess's Internet provider...


We most solemnly protest that the absence of the Princess's blog posts last week was NOT due to any negligence on our behalf, such as failing to notice and repair downed cables in her neighborhood, or failing to act for several days upon numerous calls and complaints pertaining thereto. Nw that her service has been restored, however, we proudly take credit therefor. 



I'm sure that with all the excitement we've had here in the East recently -- earthquakes, hurricanes, tornadoes, and countless unrecorded individual tragedies, such as bad haircuts -- the rest of you are wondering: How have our daily routines been affected, particularly our naps?


Happily, we have not only been able to maintain our personal napping routines, but have even had occasion to add more naps into our schedule. For instance, Hurricane Irene was scheduled to hit our area during the night, so the Hero and I reasoned that all the wind and rain might keep us awake, and we should therefore take the precaution of having a pre-hurricane nap the afternoon before. We had been counting on continued inclement weather after the storm passed as well, which would be conducive to additional napping, but the next day was bright and sunny. Not that THIS would have stopped us, of course, but since the entire community was on the streets engaging in post-hurricane discussions, it was difficult to nap undisturbed.


Of course there were various preparations to be concerned about. In the days leading up to Irene's visit, officials stressed hurricane preparedness, warning that residents might face a protracted period of time without power. At the time, we did not fully grasp that this meant "for several months," nor that it would refer specifically to US.  


But the Hero and I did dutifully embark on a checklist of what we currently possessed in the way of preparedness. We came up with:


1 bottle of water (28 oz)
a few gel "ice cubes" 
1 flashlight with corroded battery


So we promptly went to the store to remedy this situation. Now, it may be that our "promptly" is not quite the same as 99% of other people who live in our area's "promptly," because it turned out that most people had started THEIR hurricane preparations well in advance of us -- like last month. But procrastination has its advantages. At least we avoided any fights over items, since there were no items left to fight over. Plus, we got to be quite friendly with the other five people we kept seeing from store to store, all of us searching in vain for ice. Such was our bonding in this stressful situation that it was difficult to go our separate ways when we finally called a halt to our search, but we're confident that we'll meet up with them again during the next natural disaster.


Just as soon as we finish our naps.