02/27/04’s illustrious band:

Signs from God

Brought to you by employees of the Big Guy in the Sky.

As we enter the holy season of Lent, nothing I can say could compare with the Word of God, so click here to read some real signs seen outside real churches. Click on the pictures to enlarge them; follow the links at the bottom for more. And don’t miss the link at the top of the page that will take you to a site where you can design your very own church sign. Enjoy!

P.S.: Congrats to El Queso Grande for scoring 73% on the Yankee or Dixie quiz. She's three-quarters Dixie, y'all.

Today around the world: February 27 is Independence Day in the Dominican Republic. The DR occupies the eastern two-thirds of the Caribbean island of Hispaniola; Haiti occupies the western one-third. It’s from Haiti that the DR gained its independence in 1844.

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02/26/04’s illustrious band:

North and South

Brought to you by my love of online quizzes. I’m too lazy to construct one of my own, so try the one below instead.

If you’ve ever wondered whether your accent falls north or south of the Mason-Dixon line, take the Yankee or Dixie quiz and find out. I scored 40%, meaning I’m 40% Dixie, 60% Yankee. Not bad for someone raised in South Dakota; I credit Mother Media’s semi-southern roots for giving me reasonable verbal balance.

Today around the world: February 26 is Liberation Day in Kuwait. That refers to the liberation of Kuwait from an Iraqi invasion. Following several weeks of aerial bombardment, a U.S.-led, UN coalition began a ground assault on 23 February 1991 that liberated Kuwait in four days. Kuwait spent more than $5 billion to repair oil infrastructure damaged during 1990-91.

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02/25/04’s illustrious band:

Florble

Brought to you by either Sister-san or me; I can’t remember which of us made up this word.

Florble (FLOOR-bull) v. [verbus nonsensicus] to flap and wobble, as fat tissue in motion; to shake like a bowl full of jelly

I’ve been researching exercises for toning the triceps, or the back of the upper arm, this week. Examining my own in the mirror, I realized that they’re not quite as firm as they used to be. In fact, if I flap my arms hard enough, they florble just a little. Along with the grey hair, mortgage, and first-name acquaintance with my tax accountant, this florblage is a sign that I’m getting old. Well, older, anyway. I refuse to admit that I’m old. I got carded while buying a box of wine last week, for goodness’ sake.

But isn’t florble a great word? It’s one of those words that just had to be invented, because we needed it. Other such coinages:

• elewobble: the unsettled sensation of still being on an elevator even after you’ve disembarked

  
  

• excessful: excessively successful; conspicuously consumptive

  
  

• velosophy: thinking faster than you can speak

  
  

• wimbly: a melding of weak, dizzy, and trembly (may accompany elewobbles)

  
  

Got any others?

Today’s helpful hwarfing hint from Master Amy: “My husband and I each keep a Baker’s Square pie tin on our bedside tables; whoever is the first to hear the cat hacking (we've calculated through years of experience that we have 7 hacks before the yack) quickly grabs the pie tin, holds the back of the cat's head to aim it toward the receptacle, and catches the hairball. Of course, then you have to get out of bed to flush the contents down the toilet & rinse out the pie tin, but it's better than having an entire pillow or blanket getting the Vomit Treatment.”

Today around the world: February 25 is Ash Wednesday to Christians. It’s also Norriture Rituelle des sources têt d' l'eau to practitioners of voudon, or voodoo, in Haiti. According to my French-speaking sources, either this means “an eating ritual because you have water on the brain,” or it has something to do with celebrating water, perhaps as a symbol or source of life.

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02/24/04’s illustrious band:

Mardi Gack

Brought to you by people who know cats -- perhaps more intimately than they want to.

In response to yesterday’s discussion of feline regurgitation, several people wrote in with related stories. Says Amy Sunshine:

“Add to your list: There is nothing that will wake you up from a dead sleep quicker than the sound of a cat gacking on your carpet. It is amazing how quickly one can jump from the dream worlds into the bathroom, grab a handful of toilet paper, and shove it under the gacking cat in hopes that you might prevent future carpet cleaning. Arrrggg!!!”

Adds El Queso Grande:

“A local mystery writer, M.D. Lake, tells a wonderful story about his (now ex) wife's large Maine Coon cat. After moving in together, he and the cat had a somewhat adversarial relationship; the cat was territorial and was not interested in Alan except as prey. The back and forth continued until the cat won: Alan was sleeping with one leg extended from under the covers and, yes, in the middle of the night he woke as the cat managed to hurl a hair ball right on the top of his foot. Theirs was a grudging peace.”

A couple people also mentioned that their cats had unloaded into piles of laundry. Clean laundry, of course.

In a similar vein, the Chicken Step Lady has regaled me with the tale of the dog that ate and later pooped a condom, and the one that ate an entire rubber glove and expelled it, a few fingers at a time, over the course of several days.

But I digress. February 24 is Fat Tuesday -- Mardi Gras. Let the good times roll, and don’t worry about barfing until tomorrow!

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02/23/04’s illustrious band:

Kibbletoss

Brought to you by Warren Peace, Feline Despot of Sensational Acres.

When I got home from my classes on Saturday, I found that Warren Peace had left a calling card in the middle of my bed: amid the yellow sheets lay a large ABC leaf that showed he’d been grazing on my peace lily. Sigh. Laundry time. Again.

I am amazed at the frequency and abandon with which cats throw up. When I’m sick enough to toss my cookies, it’s an event; to them, it’s nothing more than a super-sized belch. They can do this a few times a week without seeming any the worse for wear. Are dogs this prolific, too?

And the places! I’ve found lost lunches in the bed, in my shoes, on the pages of an open magazine (not a treasured book, fortunately), on bathmats and doormats, on couches and chairs, on the (formerly) oatmeal-hued carpet -- where I see ample evidence that their expensive “all-natural” cat food still contains plenty of chemical dyes -- and even once, horribly, on the grate over a heating duct.

But I never find the remains of a meal on the easy-to-clean linoleum or in the bathtub or outdoors. Never. Cats are such fastidious creatures, you’d think they would take as much care to sequester this mess as they do their others, to carefully cover it up and pretend it never happened. But no, they seem to prefer public, upholstered areas. And if I don’t notice what’s happened quickly enough to suit them, they make a point of drawing my attention to it.

And the timing! There’s never a great time for this sort of thing, really, but cats seem to have a special gift for choosing the least convenient moments to hurl. Mine usually manage to do it when I’m in a hurry to leave the house, or when I’m on the phone with someone who does not wish to hear me bellow, “What did you just do?” Or right outside the bathroom door when I can’t jump up to scoot them onto the tile, or when I’m trying to share a special moment with a special someone.

And yet I keep these cats around. Why? Because I’m a sucker for soft coats and delighted purrs and sneak attacks on dastardly shoelaces.

Today around the world: February 23 is Green Monday on the Mediterranean island of Cyprus.

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02/18/04’s illustrious band:

Blazing Turban

Brought to you by my daily pithy e-mail from Beliefnet Buddhist Wisdom.

The message from a few days ago essentially cautions us, during our brief time on earth, not to run around as if our turbans were all ablaze, but to be mindful in our words and deeds. Good advice, but I can’t put the image of flaming headgear out of my mind. During a long, dark Midwestern winter, such a thing might not be entirely unwelcome.

We all know what it feels like to wear a blazing turban, don’t we. It’s that feeling you get when you urgently need to solve a problem, but rushing toward any solution just seems to fan the flames higher. My turban was blazing a few years ago when I was trying to buy a house. Several deals in a row fell through, leaving me to impose on a friend’s hospitality for a month rather than a week. The harder I tried to fix the situation, the hotter it got, until I finally gave up and decided to just enjoy the warmth for a few days. I found Sensational Acres almost immediately after that.

I find similar conditions at work: The more often I “check in” with sources who have promised to call me back, the less I hear from them. But if I cool it for a couple hours or a couple days, the information always turns up right when I need it. Interesting!

Hmm -- maybe the directive “Go soak your head” makes a little more sense in this context.

Today around the world: February 18 is Mardi Gras in Mexico, Independence Day in Gambia, and Mahashivratri (Great Shiva Night) to Hindus.

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02/17/04’s illustrious band:

A Jacket Named Robert

Brought to you by the Minneapolis Star Tribune.

Remember the term “dangling modifier” from your junior-high English class? It’s what you call descriptive words, or modifiers, that aren’t clearly connected with the thing being described. Example: “I knew a man with a wooden leg named Smith.” Who was named Smith -- the man or the wooden leg?

The Strib dangled a big one today, attributing a quotation to “a guy in a hooded camouflage jacket named Robert.” Oh yeah? And what did he call his other garments? And how do you suppose he addresses his pants -- a plural noun but a single item of clothing -- by one name or two?

Today around the world: February 17 is both National Public Science Day and Random Acts of Kindness Day in the United States. For today’s random act, I’m blogging briefly so you-all can get back to conducting experiments in public.

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02/16/04’s illustrious band:

Basket of Hangers

Brought to you by Oscar the Grouch.

No, I’m not feeling grouchy today, despite the fact that it’s Monday. Quite ungrouchy, actually, after a pleasant weekend and a productive workday. But this afternoon I was reminded of something Oscar said about 30 years ago that I thought was funny.

Oscar, being a grouch, was pointing out other things that could be considered grouchy. Tops on his list was a pile of coat hangers, which he deemed some of the grouchiest objects around. No argument there! If you’ve ever left two or more coat hangers alone together for more than 20 seconds, you know how grouchy they become at the prospect of being separated.

Anyway, a wrestling match I had with a bowl of candy canes brought his comment to mind. Candy canes are really just pepperminty coat hangers without the shoulders. It’s the wicked hooked ends that cause all the trouble. However, I won my bout with the candy and ate it just to show it who’s boss.

Today around the world: February 16 is President’s Day here in the U.S. of A. It’s also Independence Day in Lithuania and Family Day in Alberta, Canada.

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02/11/04’s illustrious band:

Tickles the Tapeworm

Brought to you by the creators of Parasite Pals.

Parasite Pals are sort of like Care Bears, except they’re parasites. The cast of characters in this merchandising drama includes Tickles the Tapeworm, Dig Dig the Head Louse, Blinky the Eyelash Mite, Zzeezz the Bed Bug, and of course Holly Hostess, the cute little blond girl from whom the others leech the necessities of life.

Click on the disembodied head of Holly Hostess to read the animated story of how Holly learned to stop worrying and love her parasites. Once introduced to them, she was never lonely again. The wording of Holly’s narrative leads me to believe that she was born and educated overseas, possibly in Japan.

If you visit www.parasitepals.com, which I highly recommend you do, you’ll see that somebody thought these characters up for the sole purpose of selling cheap plastic Pal-themed merchandise -- everything from stickers and pencil toppers to a Tickles tape measure and tape dispenser (he’s a tape worm, get it?) and a Dig Dig compact with comb.

You also owe it to yourself to click on “What’s New?” and watch Holly and Tickles in the colorful drama “Dig Dig Finds a Home.” For added entertainment, click on each Pal to view his or her centerfold-like description, then hover your cursor over the character for some special effects. Zzeezz, for instances, dreams of chomping a huge bite out of Holly’s flesh while she sleeps, belying the claim that he is laid back and makes Holly happy with dreaming.

Today around the world: February 11 is Anniversary of Lateranensi Pacts in the Vatican City State. In 1929, the Lateranensi Pacts introduced “concordatory” marriage to Italian civil law, according to “Grounds for Divorce and Maintenance Between Former Spouses,” published by legal scholars at the University of Rome in 2002. Concordatory marriage is a marriage celebrated by means of a religious rite according to the rules of Canon law (and as such is considered to be a sacramentum), but it also has civil effects because it is recorded in the register of acts of Italian marital status.

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02/10/04’s illustrious band:

The Burning Question

Brought to you by Magic, who has been accused of having an affinity for fire.

When I first arrived at grad school in Maine, my new classmates were interested to learn that I was from South Dakota. One of them -- a college graduate, mind you -- asked me, “How did you learn to conceal your Southern accent?”

Uh . . .

A guy we call the Professor is an avid student of T’ai Chi. He practices, among other things, a form involving a sword, so he sometimes has the weapon in his truck with him on his way to and from class and on various other errands.

One day when he picked up his grandson from school, the sword lay next to him on the seat. Climbing in, the boy looked up at him with huge eyes. “Grandpa,” he asked solemnly, “are you expecting trouble?”

And my favorite burning question:

My friend Magic smelled something burning as he drove. He pulled the car off the road and opened the hood, which admitted enough oxygen to the environment to engulf the front end of the vehicle in flames. So he called 911, and the first question from the fire department seemed perfectly logical: “What’s your location?” The second question, however, did not: “What’s the make and model of the car?”

Make and model? It’s THE ONE ON FIRE!

What’s the most disconcerting question you were ever asked?

Today around the world: February 10 is the Feast of St. Paul’s Shipwreck in Malta, a Mediterranean island south of Italy. According to a Bible story, Paul was aboard a ship that was wrecked on the shores of Malta. Paul preached the Gospel and healed some sick people during his three-month stay on the island, converting many to Christianity. Today, the population of Malta is about 98% Catholic.

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02/09/04’s illustrious band:

Monkey Biz

Brought to you by the Year of the Monkey.

If your birthday this year is a multiple of 12, you’re a monkey, according to the Chinese zodiac. Click here for a brief description of the monkey personality. It fits the monkeys I know pretty well. You “erratic geniuses” know who you are.

And so the Year of the Monkey has begun. The T’ai Chi studio where I study held its annual Chinese New Year demonstration and banquet over the weekend, where a good time was had by all. I took part in a couple exhibition routines that involved boxing and self-defense techniques. My partners and I actually struck each other -- in a very controlled manner, of course -- and, in a few cases, smote one another to the floor -- again, in a controlled and practiced manner. In other words: Ooh! Aah!

The boxing bit in particular was so . . . impressive, I guess, that it lead one of my instructors to remark to the crowd, “I’d be really careful buying that girl a drink at a bar.” This should answer any questions you may have had about why I have a tough time getting dates: Even my kung fu instructor thinks I’m scary enough that the public needs to be warned.

Aside from that, it was a fun night. I got to see some great displays of martial skill and to visit with friends both old and new. I ate way too much at the banquet, as usual, and got home after midnight smelling of incense and soy sauce. Best dinner-and-a-show combo in town.

Today around the world: February 9 is the Feast of St. Maron in Lebanon.

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02/06/04’s illustrious band:

The Slug and Lettuce

Brought to you by El Queso Grande.

El Queso Grande has forsaken the frozen northland for the daffodil-lined byways of merrye olde London, world-renowned for its creative naming of public houses (bars to you and me, old chap). In an e-mail I received earlier today, she announced that the Slug and Lettuce is one of her new favorite pubs. The cast-metal door handles are indeed slug-shaped. How appetizing!

In more local news, I'm sure you'll all be pleased to note that the annoyances that have plagued me for the past couple weeks have finally cleared up. That means clear pipes, functioning home Internet service, and cats that have received a clean bill of health from the vet. Huzzah! So now I can quit fretting and get back to the fun stuff.

Tomorrow, the T'ai Chi studio celebrates Chinese New Year with its annual demonstration and banquet. Happy New Year, everyone! I'll eat an egg roll in your honor.

Today around the world: February 6 is Bob Marley Day in Jamaica. Yeah, mon, we be jammin'!

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02/05/04’s illustrious band:

Sledpants

Brought to you once again by our good friends at the Totally Absurd Inventions Archive.

Sledpants is/are a hard plastic shell that you strap onto your backside and that you can wear while walking around. When you want to go sledding, just sit down and slide. No more bending all the way over to pick up your sled to haul it back up the hill, oh no! Just stand up and walk away. Even if you wipe out, you’ll never have to worry about your sled escaping down the slope without you. It’s tied to your butt! You can’t lose!

Excellent invention. Excellent. And you know what it makes me want? Officechairpants. Yes! I want a wheeled stool (with extendable backrest) to attach to my behind during the workday. You don’t have to hassle with pulling your chair out from your desk and pushing it back in when you leave, or with finding an extra seat for crowded meetings. With officechairpants, you’re truly dressed for success.

Or how about utensilry? I’m talking about a ring with extensions that unfold like a Swiss army knife to put eating utensils at your fingertips -- literally! And because your knife, fork, or spoon is attached to your ring, you’ll never drop it on the floor. Comes with matching locketbib for use during lobster dinners. Eating on the go is simple with the right utensilry.

And let’s not forget the dishbarrette, the fashionable hair accessory that picks up satellite television, radio and cellular telephone transmissions. Turn your whole head into a electronic receiving station!

Today around the world: February 5 is Liberation of the Republic from the Alberoni Occupation Day in San Marino. San Marino is an enclave in central Italy and the third smallest state in Europe -- just 0.3 times the size of Washington, D.C.

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02/04/04’s illustrious band:

Loopy Lou

Brought to you by our good friends at the Totally Absurd Inventions Archive.

The Loopy Lou is a must-have fashion accessory for all the rootin’ tootin’ honky tonkin’ cowboys and cowgirls out there in blogland. This invention consists of nothing less than a pair of large, looping handles, apparently styled from stiffened rope, attached to the hips of your blue jeans. According to the write-up, they’re ideal for swinging your partner during the do-si-do -- and for hauling tight denims up over your fat behind.

Well, shucks, don’t that just beat all? Next I’d like to see a man’s dinner jacket with a loop on the back of the right shoulder, making it easier for the lady to keep her grip during those high-speed waltzes and polkas. Call it the Oval Orville.

Today around the world: February 4 is Commencement of the Armed Struggle Day in Angola in southern Africa. Most countries celebrate the end of hostilities, but Angola apparently celebrates the beginning, too. In a country where the average life expectancy is about 37 years, I guess you celebrate whenever you can. If I lived there, I’d have just about 2 years to go. How would I spend them?

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02/03/04’s illustrious band:

Alfred Come Home

Brought to you by my fervent desire for a butler.

Yeah, I want a butler. Specifically, I want a butler like Alfred, the faithful servant of Bruce Wayne/Batman. Batman’s Alfred does everything from the day-to-day running of the millionaire’s household to screening potential dating partners to administering M.D.-caliber first aid -- all while helping conceal his employer’s secret identity and keeping the Batmobile buffed to a high shine.

I may not have a vast estate to maintain or a pointy-eared mask to polish, here are just a few of the ways Alfred could pitch in around Sensational Acres:

• Become Catman. If Alfred worked for me, he’d have the privilege of attending to the needs of my feline companions. He could keep their litter box spic-and-span and their bowls filled with just the right amount of dietarily correct food. He could keep fresh catnip toys in rotation. And he could drive the cats to their vet visit, wait outside the clinic for 25 minutes in a blizzard for a staff member to show up, and then drive them home again and reschedule the appointment for later in the week. This is what I spent my pre-office hours doing yesterday. Long-suffering Alfred would not have begrudged the wait.

  
  

• Write now. Alfred could also lend me a hand with my correspondence. Stern missives are needed for several names on my fecal roster. The phone company, which STILL has not fixed my DSL outage, is at that top of that list. Number two, in more ways than one, is my ex-husband; a collection letter with his name on it recently arrived at my address. I’m sure Alfred could set all these knotheads straight. No one can explain the rules of acceptable behavior quite as . . . clearly as a British butler can.

  
  

• Phone it in. And while we’re on the subject of my DSL problem, I’d like Alfred to take over call-for-help duty. In addition to the hours I spent on the phone with a help tech last Tuesday, I spent another 48 minutes, most of it on hold, later in the week. The call was eventually terminated for no reason, with no warning. I’d be willing to pay Alfred to handle that sort of nonsense for me -- or, better yet, to just fix the dang thing himself. And to research cable modem options so we could eschew the phone company altogether.

  
  

• Pay the piper. Alfred would also have been a helpful stand-in over the weekend, when my plumbing problems reasserted themselves. Once again I had to take time off work to open the manor doors for the sewer guy. When he was unsuccessful at clearing the problem on Friday, I had to give him a key and trust him to return on Saturday while I was away at class. He did so, with a steam jet to melt the frozen clog, and things seem to be fine, knock on e-wood. Had Alfred been around, he probably could have taken care of the trouble himself with a snorkel and a blowtorch. He’s a resourceful guy.

  
  

• Blow it off. I’d put Alfred in charge of snow removal at Sensational Acres, too. Of the hour I spent running the snow blower this morning, at least 15 minutes was devoted the start-up process. I’m sure Alfred would master the intricacies of choke, primer, starter, and fuel much more quickly than I did, leaving me free to sleep in.

  
  

• Shoe me out the door. It’s a documented fact that I am not a morning Media Sensation. Not at my best before that first cup of strong tea. I proved this once again by arriving at the office today without my shoes. Oh, sure, I had my snow boots on, but I had forgotten to bring along dress shoes to complement my business attire. Alfred would never let me leave for work so sartorially unprepared. (Today’s remedy: T’ai Chi to the rescue! Fortunately, I was able to grab my tennies out of my workout bag.)
  
• Feed me. In addition to dressing me for work in the mornings, Alfred would be responsible for packing me a lunch. It would be a hearty, nutritious meal high in flavor and low in saturated fat. And it would be something different every day, not the same thing for a week or two the way I’m doing it now. Of course, in order to produce this gourmet fare, Alfred would have to be in charge of the shopping as well. I’m willing to delegate.

  
  

• Make a date. Alfred, in his infinite care of Bruce Wayne, has been known to offer educated opinions on his master’s lady friends, and even to suggest suitable companions when Bruce’s shy demeanor leaves him alone (except for the company of his youthful and attractive ward, Dick Grayson) on a Saturday night. I could definitely use Alfred’s services in this area. Why should I spend my time trying to figure out where the boys are when Uncle Al already knows at least two lonely, idly rich gentlemen near my age?

  
  

• Drive Miss Media. I spend a lot of time in my car. It’s a nice car and I like it, but given the choice, I’d rather pass the rush hours in a comfy chair with a good book in hand. With Alfred on hand to chauffeur me, I could have the best of both worlds: enjoying fine literature while still getting where I had to go.

  
  

Oh yes, I could easily keep a butler occupied. He could do all the scut work, freeing up my valuable time for more reading, more writing, more martial arts, and occasional travel. Heck, with Alfred taking care of all those chores, I might even have time for the second and third jobs I’d need to pay his salary. Is anyone hiring?

Today around the world: February 3 or 4 is Setsubun in Japan. This involves throwing beans on the floor, which is something I enjoy doing anyway. Fortunately, the part of the festival involving burning dried sardine heads is no longer popular.

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