05/29/03’s illustrious band:

Perennials

Brought to you by the small amount of landscaping I’ve undertaken at Sensational Acres.

I like perennials, those plants that come back year after year with no prodding from me. Tall tulips, low-lying phlox, periwinkle, hostas, etc. They’re like Christmas and the Fourth of July: regular occurrences I can rely upon. They don’t care whether I’ve addressed my cards or hung out my bunting, they simply demonstrate that time marches on whether I’ve ordered it to or not. And by doing so, they take a little bit of the burden off my shoulders.

Eventually I hope to significantly reduce the size of the lawn I need to mow by planting a wide variety of perennials about the property. As they grow and spread, I’ll have less and less to do each year, until finally I achieve that Zen state of “gardening by not gardening,” just standing back out of the way and letting the beauty happen.

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05/28/03’s illustrious band:

Soap Bits

Brought to you by cutting-edge TV, or what passed for it in the late 70s.

Soap aired from 1977 to 1981 on ABC. With an ever-changing list of weird characters and impossibly convoluted story lines, the show parodied the twists, turns and melodrama of soap operas. It was considered shocking in its day for discussion of homosexuality, marital sex, infidelity, cults, alien abductions, student-teacher affairs, interracial marriage and terminal illness. In fact, Soap was one of the first, if not THE first, network television shows to feature an openly gay character: Jodie Dallas, played by comedian Billy Crystal. The 80s sitcom Benson, featuring Robert Guillaume as the wise-cracking black butler to a governor, was a spin-off based on the actor's Soap character.

That's really about all I remember. I know I liked the show and was proud that my parents thought me grown-up enough to watch it. But I probably haven't seen an episode since the 80s. If it's running in reruns on Comedy Central or something, I'm missing out, since I don't get cable. But maybe that's OK.

Thinking about Soap got me thinking about other childhood favorites. Does anyone else remember such short-lived gems as The Renegades (1982), which I believe starred a very young and pompadoured Patrick Swayze playing a character named Bandit? Or The Phoenix, featuring the often shirtless Judson Scott, who later went on to die a grisly death in Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan . . . and very little else?

Those are just a few that stuck in my craw. What about yours?

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05/27/03’s illustrious band:

Gloves

Brought to you by my personal collection of same.

So, the BND is back after a rather lengthy and unplanned break in the blogging action. Last week just wasn't my week for writing. Between the ongoing wrangle with the autoglass "repair" service that replaced my windshield but botched my rearview mirror, and a surprisingly nasty cold and -- oh yeah, having a job to do -- I just didn't connect with the keyboard as often as I'd hoped. But I'm feeling much better now! Just wish my rearview mirror could say the same. (Aside: After numerous unreturned phone calls, wrong parts and misinformed workmen, I'm opting to give the autoglass people a big ol' raspberry and have the mirror repaired at the dealership.)

Anyway, what was I talking about? Ah yes, gloves. I don't consider myself an accessory collector, necessarily, but a simple show of hand coverings at Sensational Acres reveals at least a dozen pairs. The first few are what you'd expect from a Minnesotan: cold-weather gear that includes my old, beat-up, split-seamed Isotoner driving gloves from a couple years ago (red) and a couple years before that (black); my beautiful new black leather driving gloves that I managed not to damage last winter; and the Cloven-hoofed Mittgloves of Satan.

The CMSs require a bit of explanation. These are essentially heavy-duty snowmobile mittens that are split between the middle and ring fingers to allow a little bit more grasping accuracy while retaining side-by-side digital warmth. When I wear them -- which is often in winter, since they're super warm -- it looks like I'm perpetually urging people to live long and prosper. Or you could choose to view the CMSs as certain of my friends do, as cloven hooves that prove my collusion with dark forces. But those people are just jealous because I have heated seats in my car.

What's that, four pair so far?

Next come the rest of the outdoor gloves: cheap tan cotton multi-purpose gloves two sizes two big; a nice pair of sturdy brown cotton/lycra ones with rubber grippies on fingers and palm, left over from my Big Modeling Moment in HANDY magazine last fall; and two pair of washable suede gardeners (blue and bluer) that I use for just about every chore where I'm afraid of breaking a nail. (Since I quit jujutsu, I actually have nails to break now.) Whoever thought up washable suede is a genius! You get leather durability, but if you get gas or fertilizer on them, you can just rinse 'em off and keep on working without choking on fumes.

So let's add four sets of outdoor gloves for a subtotal of eight.

Then there are the sporting gloves. I never gave much thought to this category until a couple weeks ago when I emptied out a box of long-unused toys in the garage. In it were the wrist-bracing gloves I wore when I did a lot of inline skating -- I still mean to get back to that someday -- and the wee weightlifter’s gloves I bought when I was spending a lot of time on the rowing machine at the University of Maine gym. I've been out of school for 10 years now, which explains why they were crunchy.

Add two more; subtotal = 10.

And then there are the gloves I wear for my Eclectsis class, a martial art that combines elements of praying mantis kung fu and western boxing. I have grappling gloves, which are fingerless black leather gloves with padding along the back of the hands and knuckles and a tight Velcro wrap for wrist support. We wear those for practicing grabbing techniques, where finger mobility is a must, or for protecting the hands while hitting the heavy bag. I also have a handsome pair of red and black sparring 16-oz. boxing gloves. Leather, of course. (These replaced an old pair of cheaply made boxing gloves that I recently donated to the school.)

Then there are the focus pads, which technically are not gloves, but I count them because they slip over the hands. They're the flat cushions I would hold up for a partner to punch in practice. And finally there are my two pair of glove liners, the thin, black, full-finger nylon gloves I wear under all of the others to make it easier to slip sweaty hands in and out of the leather.

Grappling gloves, boxing gloves, two pair liners, focus pads . . . five more.

For a grand total of -- 15 pair of gloves at my house! For one person! Egad! And that doesn't even include mittens or potholders! I really didn't think I had that many, but there you go. Never know ‘til you look.

What do you have too many of if you stop to count them up?

Shameless Self-Promotion: My Bloglet delivery service has been working sporadically at best these last few weeks, so if you haven't read the BND Misquote Spray from May 14, check it out. Guaranteed to kill 5 minutes you could have spent balancing your checkbook.

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05/16/03’s illustrious band:

Enemail

Brought to you by the subject line of the first e-mail in my in-box this morning: “Enema-lution: From Tubes to Temples.” It’s from a company who claims to have “has brought colon cleansing out of the closet and into the limelight.”

Well, how’s that for starting the day off in the right frame of mind? I don’t know about you, but I’d just as soon see colon cleansing, or hydrotherapy, as it’s sometimes called, stay out of the limelight. Way out. Not sure you agree? Here’s more:

“We have brought back the sacred innocence to the practice of colon cleansing and released the phobias. We are honoring and respecting our clients with a space and services that reflect the sacred nature of their bodies and spirit, says Kristi Alsberg, co-founder of The Tummy Temple (www.tummytemple.com). They’ve been asking for this for years and we’ve finally stepped up the plate and they love it! With a spa-like setting and a feel good name, The Tummy Temple has created a space that truly makes people proud to be getting colon hydrotherapy.”

Sacred innocence? I know taking good care of your colon is important, but . . . sacred innocence?

I’m not even going to comment further. I have work to do, errands to run, a lawn to mow, friends to meet, a concert to attend. Guess I’ll just have to do it all with a profane and corrupt colon. Sorry. Enjoy the sunny weekend!

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05/15/03’s illustrious band:

Looking Back

Brought to you by a couple experiences I’ve had lately involving looking behind me.

The first is literal, unfortunately. While lunching with the Soup Group today, I placed a large envelope behind me in the chair. We sat outside for an hour or so, in the full noontime sun. When I rose to leave, the envelope was no longer in my chair. I spun around in a panic, thinking I had knocked it into the ornamental pond beneath the dining terrace. But my friends assured me, through snickers, that it was safe and sound, and firmly stuck to my behind. Guess I had that topic thoroughly covered.

The second instance of looking behind me involves the wild and wacky world of customer service. On April 24, I had the cracked windshield of my Sensational Automobile replaced. But the glass technician broke something in the high-tech rearview mirror that prevents the digital compass and auto-dimmer from functioning.

I called my insurance company back about it, and they called the auto glass company back about it. A week later (April 30), another auto glass tech came by to assess the situation. “Yep, it’s broken,” he said. (Don’t try this on your own cars, kids; this dude is a trained professional!) I asked him to schedule the repair, and he said he would.

It’s been two weeks now, and I cannot get the auto glass place to even call me back about whether the needed part has arrived, let alone schedule the actual work to be done. I have called the shop a few times a week -- always politely -- since April 30, and each time I receive a solemn promise that the Parts Guy will call me back as soon as he gets in. It hasn’t happened. I called twice today and got the same story again. The receptionist was helpless, and helpfulness-less.

It’s been three weeks now since my rearview mirror functioned fully, so I called the insurance company again and asked for the customer satisfaction department. The rep there said they’ve been following up with the glass people, who did after all break my mirror, and that the part should arrive sometime today. Since it was already 4:00 p.m. when I called, I was skeptical, but she assured me the shop takes deliveries until 7:00. Anyway, the customer service rep promised to call the glass shop first thing in the morning and then to call me back. I have a little more faith that the insurance person will call me back, but not that she will have gleaned useful information from the elusive Parts Guy.

So don’t ask me to look back. I can’t do it properly, and even when I try, I have a hard time finding what I need. Guess I’ll just have to remain focused on the future . . . and the phone.

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05/14/03’s illustrious band:

Misquote Spray

Brought to you by The Other Amy.

T.O. Amy received a note from a reader of her magazine who wrote with thanks for some sign-up gifts she had received. She got gardening tools and a tool bag, and a container of “misquote” spray to use against the “other state bird” in her area.

“What every journalist needs,” Amy writes, “misquote spray! Just spray it on your copy, and misquotes magically disappear.” (Another journalist friend of hers remarked that in addition to misquote spray, she also carries a tube of Preparation AP.)

Misquote spray would indeed be a dandy addition to any writer’s first aid kit. I think it should also contain:

• mental floss for clearing one’s mind
  
• Excesscedrin for eliminating unnecessary verbiage
  
• adhesive type to help you stick to the point
  
• curscriptive medication for attractive handwriting
  
• andages to hold clauses together
  
• Punctu-Bismol to prevent run-ons
  
• Hacktine ointment to ease the sting of abrasive reviews
  
• time-release capsules for squirming out of deadlines
  
• a solar-powered idea generator
  

What else do we need?

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05/12/03’s illustrious band:

Matrynym

Brought to you by A Word A Day, www.wordsmith.org.

Matronym (MA-truh-nim) noun

A name derived from the name of a mother or maternal ancestor. (Also metronym.)

[From Latin metr- (mother) + Greek -onym (name, word).]

A day-after Mother’s Day entry, straight from the AWAD service:

“It's easy to see that the terms maternal, maternity, matron, and matrimony have something to do with the sense ‘mother’ and are related to today's word, but what could metropolis, material, matter, matriculate, and matrix have in common with them? A metropolis is, literally, a mother city; matter and material derive from Latin materia, woody part of a tree, its source of growth; one matriculates to what is to be an alma mater; and matrix comes from Latin matrix, a female animal kept for breeding. All of these terms are ultimately offsprings of the Indo-European root mater-.”

Happy (Belated) Mother's Day to mothers everywhere! Especially Mother Media!

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05/11/03’s illustrious band:

They're Baaack!

Brought to you by my birthday. Yep, another year has come and gone. It's been wild and crazy and surprisingly short. I'm officially in my mid-30s now!

Remember last year when a pi?ata in the shape of a UFO landed in my cubicle on my birthday? Well, the aliens are back. This year I received from my friends, lead by El Queso Grande, a UFO charm on a chain that I can wear anytime, anyplace. My very own extraterrestrial accessory. And the Chicken Step Lady found me a Chinese yo-yo with a rocket ship on the end. When you grasp the handle (which looks like the rocket's fiery trail) and fling the yo-yo, the ship flies away -- and then snaps right back, so watch out. Out-of-this-world playthings are only funny until someone loses an eye.

As being spoiled by friends and family wasn’t enough, I decided to pamper myself on my birthday, too. I took the day off work and booked a massage and a facial at a local spa, which left me relaxed and glowing and a little bit oily. I spent the afternoon lazing around Sensational Acres catching up on my video game playing.

In the evening, I met WhoSEZ in downtown Minneapolis for dinner and a movie in the newly renovated Block E entertainment complex. (Remind me never to drive in downtown Minneapolis again. Ever. Especially during rush hour. I should have save the massage until after I'd found parking.) We planned to meet near a bookstore, and since I was early, I wandered inside. And spent a goodly portion of my mad money on new books.

I had a fantastic cheeseburger for dinner. So did WhoSEZ, but without the burger, since she's a vegetarian. Then we headed upstairs to see X2: X-Men United. Great movie! Special effects, action, romance, humor, Patrick Stewart . . . everything a fun flick should have. Go see it.

We had saved our appetites for dessert until after the show, at which time we indulged in a couple of high-impact creations from the Stone Cold Creamery. They take a scoop or two of fantastic ice cream and slap it down on the chilled countertop. Then they hollow out a spot in the middle and fill it with candy or brownies or Oreos or whatever you want. Mix mix mix and into the bowl it goes, sort of like watching a Japanese chef whip up your meal right there at the table. YUM! And if you drop money into the tip jar, the whole staff breaks into song. This show was almost as good as the movie.

I've been spending the rest of the weekend as I usually do, going to classes at the T'ai Chi studio, catching up on household chores, entertaining the cats, watching movies, and reading one of the books I bought. The rainy weather gives me an excuse not to mow the lawn yet, even though I finally got the mower back from the tune-up shop. Tomorrow it's back to business as usual, so I'm taking every opportunity to loaf about while I can. In fact, I'm wearing my pajamas even as I write this. Too much information?

Anyway, thanks to all for the groovy gifts, calories and fun. It's been a great birthday. Let's do it again next year.

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05/07/03’s illustrious band:

Peerless Pierogi

Brought to you by Byerly's, the south metro's most excellent grocery store.

Today I wrapped up the unexpectedly arduous task of refinancing my mortgage. There were obstacles along the way, but the deed is done. This completion has left me a very happy camper.

When I'm happy, food can't be far away. I went grocery shopping tonight and loaded up on a larder full of goodies, including the meal that's what a sandwich and chips want to be when they grow up: Melanese tort and pierogis from the deli. Melanese tort is a loaf of flaky pastry filled with ham, salami, Italian cheeses, spinach and a couple other ingredients. A slice of that is better than anything Subway will ever produce. On the side, I had pierogis, pingpong ball-sized dumplings filled with a mixture of mashed potato and cheese. Oooh, heavenly. Nobody makes pierogis like the local Scandinavian experts, and these were built with seasoned tastebuds in mind. It was a great way to celebrate a financial victory.

I'm immensely thankful that I managed to pull this refinancing project off. I have one more Pendejo-related hurdle to surmount before my heart can truly rest, but I believe that it can be done. Right now, my stomach is full, my fridge and pantry are full, my cats are happy and I'm watching Season 4 of The X-Files on DVD. As it says on the T-shirts at the sporting goods store, life is good. And it's only going to get better.

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05/06/03’s illustrious band:

Juicy Juicy Mangoes

Brought to you by Bend It Like Beckham, a brilliant movie I saw over the weekend.

Bend It is the story of two young British women, Jules and Jess, who want to be footballers -- soccer players. Their families don’t approve. Jules’s blonde bimbo-esque mother wants her to wear push-up bras and get a boyfriend, saying, “There’s a reason Sporty Spice is the only one who hasn’t got a fella.” Jess’s tradition-minded Indian parents keep bugging her to put “playtime” behind her and become a proper, marriage-seeking Indian woman like her sister. It’s the story of anyone who has ever defied cultural and/or familial expectations to pursue her or his true passion.

Today’s band name comes from a scene in which a seamstress is measuring Jess for a sari to wear to her sister’s wedding. Jess has a very modest bosom, but the seamstress promises that with snug fitting, “Even these little mosquito bites will look like juicy juicy mangoes!” Jules has the same sort of moment early in the film while bra shopping with her mother. Mom wants Jules to put down the sports bra and get one with inflatable inserts that will lift and define her assets -- and, standing in the front window of the shop, she grabs them to demonstrate. Mo-ther!

The movie has much to recommend it, including a warm heart, a great sense of humor, strife, romance, excellent characters who avoid becoming caricatures, eye-popping color, a truly funky score, bloodless action sequences and more accents than you can shake a cricket bat at. So go see it. If you’re in town, take me along, because I’d love to see it again.

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05/05/03’s illustrious band:

Inflatable Church

Brought to you by Inflatablechurch.com (www.inflatablechurch.com).

Not much to say today, since I've spent most of it wrangling with various financial services industry professionals to salvage my refinancing. It's an ugly story; suffice it to say that when people don't read the documents they insist you supply, they can really, really, seriously foul things up.

Anyway. The Inflatable Church. Well, I guess somebody had to think of this eventually. It's like one of those inflatable castles kids can jump around in at carnivals or play areas, but it's shaped like a church. Just the thing for the clergy member on the go -- perform weddings anywhere! To quote from the web site:

"The world's one and only inflatable church is here to allow couples to get married wherever their hearts desire. This fantastic air filled building is 47ft long by 25ft wide & 47ft high. The attention to detail is heavenly complete with plastic "stained glass" windows and airbrush artwork which replicates the traditional church. Inside it has an inflatable organ, altar, pulpit, pews, candles and a gold cross. Even the doors are flanked by air-filled angels. The church can be built in three hours and dis-assembled in less than two." No smoking is allowed indoors, however, and I should think lit candles would be a no-no as well.

Buying an IC will cost you 21,750 pounds sterling -- it's a British invention -- which means about U.S.$34,942. To hire, or rent, the IC: 2,000 pounds a day, or U.S.$3,213 (at 1 GBP = 1.60655 USD, the exchange rate as of 3:45 p.m.). Considering what you'd have to pay to rent a hall anyway, this might not be such a bad price. Of course, you'd have to fly to England and have your shindig there. But why not? Gotta go the extra mile(s) for quality.

This has got me inspired. I'm thinking of inventing the inflatable cubicle so I can work anywhere, not just at the office. I haven't worked out how I'd wire it for phone and/or Internet access yet, but I'm still in the planning stages. Also on my drawing board: the inflatable car. Think of how much more maneuverable such a lightweight vehicle would be, and how much fuel you'd save. It'd be very comfy to sit in, too. One patch repair kit fits all!

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05/02/03’s illustrious band:

Callow & Gormless

Brought to you by A Word A Day (www.wordsmith.org).

This is really a better name for a law firm than for a band, but we take what we can get. Of course, I do not mean to imply in any way that members of the bar are callow (immature, inexperienced) or gormless (lacking intelligence). Most of the lawyers I know are actually pretty smart. However, I did just finish listening to a John Grisham audiobook titled King of Torts, in which the main character fit the description to a T.

Anyway, it’s too nice a day to sit at the computer, so I’m outta here. Today is Complete Your Refinancing Day and also Buy a New Pair of Cross-training Shoes Day, which I traditionally observe by driving around town with the windows down and dealing in obscene amounts of money. After that, my bike and I have some ground to cover in the southern metro area before the rain hits on Sunday. I hope all of you have equally fun weekends planned.

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05/01/03’s illustrious band:

Extremes in Weather

Brought to you by this month’s reading from the Book of Spam.

According to Hormel archives, my Spam calendar tells me, the best international markets for Hormel’s most famous (or most infamous) product tend to have one or more of three things in common. To wit:

1. They usually have extremes in weather, with part of their weather typically being hot.
   
2. The population is accustomed to pork products and likes them.
   
3. The country has had, at some point, a large U.S. military presence.
   

The last might sound odd, but many countries first saw Spam as a military ration, for sale in the PX. The military connection is one of the reasons Spam used to be so popular in Britain.

Guam, however, is the Spam capital of the world. Guamanians consume an average of 16 cans per person per year. Mmm, porky!

Editor’s note: It took me 10 minutes to figure out what to call a resident of Guam. The Internet fell short; the entries I found there referred to “residents of Guam.” It was my handy-dandy old dictionary that bailed me out, in the Geographic Entries section in the back.

Didn’t know there was one? Neither did I, but since I’m often surprised at what I can find in that good book besides pronunciations and definitions, I gave it a shot. The dictionary is a source of amazement to me. If you look at the special sections in the back, you can find:

• lists of two- and four-year colleges and universities
  
• correct ways to address professors, government officials and clergypeople
  
• the proper name and usage of the punctuation mark we call the slash (it’s a virgule!)
  
• biographical entries
  
• abbreviations
  
• a writers’ style guide
  
• the periodic table of the elements
  
• tables of measurements
  
• a chart of signs and symbols, including some used in physics, some used on weather maps and some you’d expect to find in the Farmer’s Almanac.
  

Good reading!

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