Freedom of Smell

It's nearly spring and a lovely time to live in the south--the azaleas, flowering trees, and gentle breezes are poetic. But there's an interesting phenomenon with said trees and breezes. Sometimes, one such breeze will lift a visible cloud of pollen off a tree and hang it in the air for an impossibly long time. You may walk through the cloud if you choose, or you may walk across the street to avoid it.

But what if the tree could walk into a room and leave its cloud behind? That's what happens with the cloud of perfume, hairspray or aftershave that often lingers long after the bearer (or overbearer) has moved on.

And what if the overbearer wants to embrace? To quote a friend, "Sometimes, I hug someone and smell them on me the rest of the day. Is that fair? I didn't choose to smell that way!" Some folks like to hug trees, but I've never seen a tree offended if you choose to keep your distance.

What if that hug occurs in the morning and then you sit down with a cup of tea that ends up smelling more like Old Spice than chai spice? In approaching a gently-scented blossom, you may reach for it, take a pleasing whiff and move on without having to continue smelling blossom on your shirt, in your car, and in your dinner.

Some flowers don't actually smell so nice, but a subtle odor that stays with its blossom is preferable to a manufactured fragrance that leaves a long-lasting trail.

I am especially sensitive in vehicles since I have a propensity for carsickness. My queasiness is exacerbated by four things: sitting in the back, reading, looking back while the vehicle is in motion and strong smells (especially perfume and cigarette smoke).

The first three are easily managed:
"Anyone mind if I sit in the front?"
"No, I'm sorry, I can't look for your purse in the backseat."
"Can someone else read the directions?"

But that last one is troublesome. It's a bit harder to say, "Your aftershave makes me want to vomit" or to roll the windows down when it's 15 below. I'd rather not choose between losing my fingers to frostbite and losing my lunch.

Pretzel Rebuttal, by guest writer, Roboto

I figured I'd continue with my recent tradition of having a guest writer on Friday by posting Roboto's rebuttal to "Why Pretzels are Wack."

"Pretzel Rebuttal" by Roboto

Wow, I can't believe nobody came to my poor friend, Mr. Pretzel's defense! I'll give it the old college try.

Dry foods are amazing. It must be some sort of masochistic thing in me, but I could eat an entire loaf of bread, toasted, no butter, no jelly. Dry.

Tell me you've never started eating saltines without a glass of water, only to look down and realize that you've eaten almost the entire sleeve? And then you actually contemplate opening another sleeve because, yes, dry saltines are just that good.

The pinnacle of pretzel delight would be the Rold Gold Honey Wheat Braided Twists. MAN! Rather than air, carbohydrates and salt, somehow Frito Lay, makers of Rold Gold, have used unicorn breath and honey-laden carbohydrates, and then dusted them with angel freckles. Seriously, they're DELICIOUS!

The soft pretzel--though delicious, as you said--really can't be considered a pretzel, so let's just throw that argument out the window.

An entire bag of popcorn, nothing to drink? FANTASTICALLY dry. Toss in some pretzels to liven up the popcorn and I'm instantly brought to my childhood of watching Charlie Brown and his gang eating such an amazing snack for Thanksgiving.

If Charlie Brown is cool with it, so am I.

Obama/Biden/Pretzels - '08!!

Do the ChaCha

Ever wonder how many holes are in a Chinese Checkerboard or how many stars are in the sky? Ever find yourself at a family reunion but dying to know the current score of the big game? Or craving sushi in an unfamiliar city?

With a mobile phone, six numbers, and nimble thumbs, you can get the answers to these questions and more. Simply text your question to ChaCha (242242). In minutes, you'll receive an answer. Standard text message charges apply, but there is no additional cost.

Don't get too crazy though because you're only allowed four questions in 72 hours. And if you find yourself asking ChaCha if your socks match, it might be a good sign that it's time to put the phone down and get reacquainted with the world around you.

Do yourself a favor

and listen to "Central Park" from the King Kong soundtrack.

No More Spicy Pickles

She names her poop before flushing it down the toilet. When she grows up, she wants to be a teacher or the boss. She loves to dance, play hide and seek, and hang out with the "big girls." But three-year-old Gracie recently discovered that she's not quite ready for the pickles that feel like fire on their way in and out.

Her mother discovered it too when she walked away from Gracie's bed holding green-spotted sheets as far away from her body as possible. "No more spicy pickles."

Gracie followed a few steps behind with the green spots on her shirt and agreed, "No more spicy pickles."

I'm With the Band

Good ol' RATco is doing another musical. This time, it's about a dreamer named Joseph.

I've hardly played since I had corrective (not cosmetic) surgery on my lip a decade ago, but I couldn't resist the chance to dust off my flute and play a bit of Andrew Lloyd Weber for a high-quality production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.

That's one of the great things about RATco--you're able to try acting, singing or dancing even if you're not an expert. You get individual coaching and a personal investment from the director and producers. Along the way, you get to know new people and gain confidence.

RATco productions have always defied traditional logic by making a place for everyone, investing in everyone, and bringing it all together for a great show. By experience, I know that I'll be a part of something really special with this play.

Besides, now I get to say, "I'm with the band."

Things That Are Overrated, by William P.

Due to the overwhelming popularity of William P.'s recent posts, I thought I'd share a bit more from our sarcastic and endearing guest. I love the creative way he expresses his opinions even when I don't know what he's talking about or don't agree. Please understand that, despite recurring comments about things that make him so angry he wants to hurt things, William P. is actually a friend to the furry creatures.

"Things That Are Overrated"

Wow, I don't even know where to begin with this one. I'm not the type to complain about everything, but there are just some things in this world that I just don't get. For instance, the band Nickelback. Sure, they probably worked hard to get where they are now, but seriously, they are extremely overrated. If you ask me they sound more country than anything, nowhere near the modern rock they claim to be. The majority of the time the lead singer is just screaming at the top of his lungs. He sounds like a mix between McGruff the Crime Dog and Toby Keith.

Since I'm on the subject of music, I also think that Soulja Boy (yes, that's spelled correctly) is the most overrated thing in rap music since....since, well EVER!!! If I hear "Crank dat soulja boy" one more time, I'm going to kill a kitten. Also, the color yellow is overrated. Plain white tees, The War on Terror, Dane Cook, Carmen Electra, Mitt Romney, AC/DC, the whole year of 1999, Napoleon Dynamite (it's not that funny!!!), self-loathing, Jew and/or gay bashing (just stop, it's not funny), soda, life after high school, and emo scene/goth kids (because we all know that dressing exactly the same and listening to the exact same music makes you a non-conformist....NOT!!!). I'll just leave it at that.

To the Dogs

I couldn't let this topic go just yet. After my research into the world of luxury items for pets, this story, about a man who was apparently robbed of 300K in pet jewelry, doesn't seem quite as shocking.

Let that be a lesson to you if you really must carry around the equivalent of a mortgage in puppy bling.

The Discerning Pet

My favorite product from yesterday's post states in its description that it is "for only the most descerning of canines."

Maybe they should hire these "descerning" dogs to check their spelling. Their "moms" could probably use a little extra cash.

Just Four Paws

Have you been affected by dwindling investments or dropping home prices in today's troubled economy? Save your money from risky banks and 401K plans by putting it in the one investment that is guaranteed to bring long-lasting returns--pet jewelry.

Where bone-shaped birthday cakes and puppy brownies fall short, personalized dog jewelry shows how much you really care.

There's nothing that says "I am loved" like a glitzy pet cuff (just $55):

or a matching set of charms for you and your pup:

Appeal to your dog's sense of irony with the "Diva Collar," which accents her real fur with fake fur:

If you want only the best for your dog, turn to the designer for the stars who caters to Ricky Estefan (Gloria’s Dalmatian), Lola De La Hoya (Oscar’s Chi) and Neal Tyler (Liv's pup).

Though pet fashion has come a long way over the years, some customers, like Michelle, express consternation about a largely unpublicized size bias. Michelle describes the emotional experience of looking for a "pretty necklace for [her] pretty princess" at Glitzy Pet Jewelry, and realizing that "all of the necklaces were biased towards toy or smaller dogs."

"Surely that's not possible," you might be thinking. Think again. Determined, Michelle persisted and got a custom necklace for her "girl" Zoe. The site now carries a special collection for "plus-size" dogs.

Michelle's sense of injustice is furthered by this $1,700 bed at Bling Bling Puppy, which is only big enough for dogs up to 25 pounds. Perhaps a little sensitivity training is in order?

Until this issue is addressed, Michelle will have to get by with a regular bed fitted with custom dog steps ($150 and up) for Zoe's ease.

Other gratuitous ways to spend money on things your dog doesn't understand include diamond earrings and Gucci carrying bags. You may also wish to grind $20 bills into a fine powder to mix with her food.

Just Some Things on My Mind

A friend came to me after she read Turn Around with some things on her mind. She said, "Something's bothering me! Why does my spellchecker always try to add an apostrophe in somethings? What if I just want to talk about more than one thing?"

This is another case of a word meaning something entirely different as two words:

*something's=something has or something is:
Something's been on my mind all day.
Something's troubling me about your grammar.

some things=more than one thing:
Some things in life that just don't matter. Grammar is not among them.

Adore the Smore

Decades after it first made its messy way into my heart, I was finally reunited with the campfire smore in an unlikely place--my kitchen. That's right, after countless less-than-melty chocolate squares, un-roasted marshmallows, and mushy graham crackers, I have perfected the kitchen smore.

I'd like to share what I've learned so that you too may enjoy all the subtle nuances of the smore in the comfort of your very own home.

Many kitchen methods have proven insufficient in producing a graham-y, chocolaty and marshmallow-y treat worthy of the long-revered title of "smore."

For example, an impatient few will head straight to the microwave, where the marshmallow will balloon to unnatural proportions and the chocolate will puddle atop soggy graham cracker squares. Don't even bother.

Those with respect for the smore will try to incorporate fire in some way. This is commendable, but take heed. Gas fireplaces melt the marshmallow nicely, but may also melt your face off. Matches are less dangerous, but 137 matches, two burnt fingers, and seven hours later, you'll be more in the mood for breakfast.

Candles seem promising at first because they provide a long-lasting flame, but do not be fooled. Vanilla-scented candles do not enhance the flavor and, trust me on this, you'd much rather smell Ocean Breeze than taste it.

The trick, smore lovers, is in the toaster. No, NOT the projectile waffle kind of toaster--you wouldn't be the first to try shoving a marshmallow between the wires and you wouldn't be the first to fail.

A successful kitchen smore requires a toaster OVEN with a broil setting, marshmallow and chocolate topped graham cracker squares, and a combination of patience, skill, and tenderness.

The broil setting provides a gentle browning effect for the marshmallow, melts the chocolate without turning it to liquid, and leaves the graham cracker crisp.

Delicately rotate the marshmallow as it browns and glory in the chocolate glow. The magic of the smore is back.

Definition of Quirky

I just got back from a big night out at Sonic.

There, I watched a friend decide what she was going to order by dipping a pretend spoon in a pretend cup of pretend Oreo Blast and then pretending to taste it. She wasn't convinced yet so she then tried pretend Butterfinger Blast. She went back and forth between the two pretend cups before deciding that she was in the mood for Butterfinger.

And then she ordered an Orange Creamsicle.

Ultimud Frisbee

We had a long, Southern-style downpour yesterday and played Ultimate today. That's a muddy combination.

The game has gotten so popular that we've had to split into two games at once. Several kids from the local Children's Home joined us today, including one superstar who consistently caught impossible tosses. But even the third grader (whose dad just happened to see us playing and has brought his son every week since) left feeling like a superstar. Everyone has a chance to play and the score remains tied at all points--for the official scorekeepers anyway.

My favorite moments were the slippery ones--especially when they involved flailing arms, long skid marks and muddy clothes. But I didn't particularly enjoy being folded in half (by someone twice my size) during one such moment. Those stars sure were pretty though.

Anyone know what day of the week it is?

The Quest for a Successful Grapefruit-Eating Experience

Grapefruits are delicious, nutritious, and nearly impossible to eat. Crate and Barrel and other such stores actually sell spoons and knives dedicated specifically to making the grapefruit more accessible.


The knife just doesn't look right and I don't think spoons are meant to be dangerous. I'd like to keep my tongue, thanks.

And even if you manage to remove the delicious flesh with the spoon without getting a blinding squirt in the eyeball, you'll find sticky spots all over the counter and floors within a 10-foot radius for weeks. Of course, you could just peel it and eat it like an orange, but then you can't put the sugar on it and that's just yucky.

I've discovered the solution. Actually, my shopping soul mate (more on that later) introduced it to me and I'm a believer.
Del Monte Fruit Naturals, people.

They're fresh enough to require refrigeration and to have an expiration date. They still taste like grapefruit and don't turn into another food entirely like canned oranges, peaches and pears. They're cheaper than the real deal too.

Best of all, you can eat them without risking life and tongue.

Why Pretzels are Wack

Pretzels are wack–as in as not legit, unnecessary and lame. Wack is pronounced like whack (which is what I recommend doing to any pretzel not covered in chocolate), but the h is dropped to make it 20% shorter for texters (and primary users of the word).
Pretzels are straight air, carbohydrates and salt: they are not a legitimate food. If you're going to eat air, carbohydrates and salt, you may as well make it worthwhile. Try Dill Pickle Pringles or Cheetos–they actually have flavor.
A case has been made for pretzels filled with peanut butter. This is the most offensive kind of pretzel around. Why someone would combine the two driest food stuffs in existence is beyond me. You can get the same dry mouth and subsequent lip-smacking without going to the grocery store and exchanging money. Just go to the nearest playground or beach for a spoonful of sand.

There is one exception–soft pretzels–which are really just pretzel-shaped pieces of bread covered in various sweet or savory toppings. As such, they're delightful.

This post is for William, Joseph and Sophie who don't agree that pretzels are wack and who are wrong**.
**Proper etiquette requires me to invite rebuttal posts from pretzel lovers–misguided as they may be.

William P. On His Least Favorite Things

These two go hand in hand, so here's another post compliments of William P.

Similar to "My Favorite Things," I also have a lot of things that I hate, so this should be easy. First off, Aquaman. Seriously, why is he a superhero? All he does is talk to fish. Wow, that's amazing. Whoopdie-freaking-do!

PG-13 horror movies. I'm so sick of these unscary, piece of crap movies that are only made because teens are dumb enough to pay and see the same movie over and over again. "Oh noes, there's a ghost of a little girl that was hurt by her parents and now seeks revenge on anyone who watches a cursed movie and calls them in seven days!" FAIL!

Another thing that makes me want to stab kittens is sweet spaghetti. Dear Batman, I hate that stuff. I like spaghetti, but when it's extremely sweet, I want to punish small animals. When I see my friends eat the cafeteria's so-called spaghetti, I want to punch them in the face. I'm serious. Okay, not really, but still, that stuff is yucky.

Next up is cigarettes. The biggest waste of money in history. Even more than Nickelback's last CD. I just don't get it. It gives you bad breath, makes your clothes stink and slowly kills you over time. Well, sign me up for that! DOUBLE FAIL!

Other things I don't like include: hot weather, hypocrites, soda, losing, being told what I "need" to do and gas prices. Wow, I don't even know where to begin with gas. Gas is like 147 million dollars a gallon. OK, maybe I'm exaggerating, but dang! I can barely afford to buy enough gas to drive to a gas station to buy more gas. Hey, look on the bright side, there's always bikes, or extreme inline roller blading (oh goody!).

Speaking of extreme stuff, why is everything all of a sudden extreme? There's extreme Doritos, extreme deodorant, extreme fruit snacks. There's even extreme yogurt. Huh?! Seriously, how the heck is yogurt even remotely extreme? It's mind boggling. It's a freaking dairy product! Cows aren't extreme, so milk isn't extreme, therefore... YOGURT IS NOT EXTREME!!!!

Have you ever seen the movie "Meet the Spartans"? Don't, it sucks. Well, I haven't seen it but I'm pretty sure it sucks.

William P. on His Favorite Things

I have a very special treat for the blog followers today. Rather than a whole post talking about how I still can't lift my arms after my recent boxing match, I thought I'd share some writings from my favorite undiscovered writer. Back in my teaching days, we started class each day with a journal topic. This particular student never failed to make me laugh and has given me permission to post some of his writing. Below is his journal on "My Favorite Things."

Well, I have a lot of favorite things, so writing this shouldn't be too hard.

I love music, plain and simple. Music is like a drug to me, I've just go to have it. I listen to nearly every genre (well everything but country, except two or three songs I listen to when doing drive-bys in Grand Theft Auto San Andreas). Speaking of GTA, I also love playing video games. I've been playing ever since my brother went to college and gave me his Nintendo Entertainment System (or simply Nintendo) as an early fourth birthday gift. Since then, I've had a Sega Genesis, Sega Saturn, PlayStation, PlayStation 2, Gamecube, XBox, and an XBox 360 (my favorite).

I've never been big on watching TV, but over the past two years, I have become addicted to watching certain shows: Smallville, Lost, Heroes, Mythbusters, Dirty Jobs, Intervention, and two others that just stand out. My favorite show would have to be House MD. Gregory House is the coolest, most arrogant, prescription-drug-addicted doctor ever. The other show is Family Guy. BEST. Cartoon. Ever. "Nuff said.

More random favorite things are iguanas, movies, comic books, winning, pizza, BBQ, computers, YouTube, EBay, Digg, drawing stick figures in random, usually violent, situations, playing guitar, Michael Moore documentaries, driving and mostly anything cherry flavored.

The last thing I would like to write about only my closest friends know, but since I'm writing about my favorite things, I might as well add it to the list. I love 80s music! I know you're probably thinking, "Wow, he must really like 80s music." WRONG! I LOVE 80s MUSIC. I love it like a parent loves his kids, like Al Gore loves green stuff, like Tony Danza loves being the boss.

My favorite groups and artists include Tears for Fears (I'm listening to "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" as I write), Guns 'N Roses, A-Ha, Styx (Domo Arigoto, Mr. Freaking-Roboto), Foreigner, The Police, A Flock of Seagulls, Corey Hart (I actually own a pair of sunglasses which I sometimes wear at night), Toto, Cutting Crew, Mr. Mister, Squeeze, REO Speedwagon (just a couple of songs)...

I'm gonna stop here because this is actually a little embarrassing, seriously.

Relax, let's just talk.

Over the years, I've gained quite the reputation as a stickler on grammar. I have bolstered that reputation by using my blog to rail on such things as misplaced apostrophes, typos and commonly confused words.

Sadly, friends express self consciousness in their emails and in conversations with me--no matter how much I insist that mistakes don't bother me a bit in casual communication and that I make grammatical missteps too (seriously, I do).

I often ask for help from two people who know more grammar than me (the same two people who knew automatically that I should have said they "know more grammar than I"). And I also start sentences with and, but and because. I stubbornly leave out commas and end sentences in prepositions. And sentence fragments? I love 'em.

So relax--no need to walk on grammatical eggshells around me.

With that said, if you start writing for the Dining and Wine section of the New York Times and say that the third coarse had too much course salt or that the red potatoes were heavy on the time and didn't come out in a reasonable thyme, I will make an example out of you.

Ultimate Frisbee

Here's a picture. And yes, it's that serious.

I played ultimate twice this weekend. My big brothers would have been proud. Here's a photo with the Selma youth.

I learned that I'm better at sports now that I have glasses, that hustling is good but pacing myself is better, and that blood on my shirt is an effective intimidation tool.