06/30/04’s illustrious band:

Tick Tock

Brought to you by sands through the hourglass.

The clock is ticking. The year is half over already. Let’s say 182 days have passed. Where did they go?

• I attempt to spend about 1/3 of my time sleeping, so let’s call that 60 days in the sack. That leaves 122 days.

  
  

• I’ve worked 37.5 hours, or about 1.5 full days, for 26 weeks: the equivalent of 39 days at the office. But I’ve had a few days off; say I worked 35. That leaves 87 days.

  
  

• I spend about 12 hours, or .5 days, each week doing T’ai Chi and other martial arts. Over 26 weeks, that’s 13 days of kicking butt. That leaves 74 days.

  
  

• Between going to work and going to class, I average around 8 hours, or 1/3 of a day, driving each week. Over 26 weeks, that’s about 8.5 days behind the wheel. No wonder my butt aches! That leaves 65.5 days.

  
  

• I spend a minimum of 15 minutes per day in the shower. That’s about 1/100 of a day times 182 days for a total of 1.82 days of hygiene. That leaves 63.68 days.

  
  

• Once clean, a girl’s gotta eat. Let’s say I spend an average of 30 minutes a day preparing and consuming food: 2/100 of a day for 182 days is 3.64 days, leaving 60.04.

  
  

• Let’s say I devote 5 hours a week, about 3/100 of a day, to household chores like mowing, shopping, cleaning, and doing laundry. Over 26 weeks, that’s roughly .75 days spent tidying up. That leaves 59.29 days.

  
  

I could go on and on -- and you know I’m tempted to -- but that’s more than enough math for one day already. The point is, I can account for 122.71 days so far this year, but I can’t tell you exactly what I did with the remaining 59.29. That’s nearly two whole months! I know I spend a lot of time reading and playing computer games, but . . . two whole months? Surely not. What the heck else have I been doing? Has anyone seen me? Can you fill me in? Hurry it up, please. The clock is ticking.

Today around the world: June 30 is Bank Holiday, or Balance Day, in El Salvador.

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06/29/04’s illustrious band:

Lazy River

Brought to you by wishful thinking.

Apparently I still had a little bit of bank gristle left in my teeth, because I found myself chewing those wankers out yet again this morning. Sure, they finally delivered my new debit card . . . 7 weeks late. But the new access code? No. And I’m not complaining about that; putting the card and the code together in the same package would have been stupid.

What I’m complaining about is that (A) although the card was delivered extra fast once I sank my teeth into the right tushie, the code was mailed at the usually leisurely pace, so I won’t receive for about another week yet and (B) no one has access to the code to tell it to me. No one. No one at the bank, no one at the credit card place. No one. There is no possible way for me to get the code over the phone, no matter how many Social Security numbers and mothers' maiden names I recite. For my protection, of course. So I still can’t use the card at an ATM.

I could, of course, go to the nearest branch of my bank (actually, a small credit union) and have the number changed manually. But that’s a whole ‘nother pain in the butt. There is no branch in the suburb where I live, nor in the ‘burb where I work. There is one near the T’ai Chi studio, which is where I’d normally be heading on a Tuesday after work, but it would be closed by the time I got there.

No, the nearest branch is partway between office and home, and it just happens to be in my least favorite suburb in the entire metro area. The random street layout and nonexistent signage make navigation challenging on a good day; if you’re looking for an unfamiliar address, well, the huge water tower in the center of “town” starts to look a lot like a raised middle finger. And getting back onto the construction-addled freeway afterward? Don’t make me laugh. Still, I want to get this card operational. I have to risk it.

Well, smart people plan ahead, right? A smart person would call ahead, make sure the desired service is offered at that location, and ask for directions. So I did that. Hit the credit union’s Internet home page, clicked on “branch hours and locations.” A map to the branch is thoughtfully provided -- which would be great if the roads and streets in this ‘burb were labeled the same way they are on the map, but I know from previous experience that they are not. I look for the phone number. There isn’t one.

That’s right, there isn’t one. A call to the main office reveals that you can’t call this branch of the credit union, or most of the other outposts. All calls are routed through the main call center at the opposite end of the metro. Uh . . . huh. The main call center assures me, however, that I can get my card fixed at the branch office, provided I get there before 5:00.

Honestly! Should it really take five phone calls and an in-person trip to complete the “automatic” replacement of my expired debit card?

Against my better judgment, I’m going to give it a try. I have a couple checks that need depositing, and with the mortgage payment due in a couple days, sooner is better than later. Rather than whiling away a summer evening beside a lazy river humming along to the audio lemonade of old-fashioned barbershop harmonies, the way God intended, I’ll be fighting my way upstream against rush hour traffic and stoplights. (Actually, I can put the music on the car stereo, but it’s the principle of the thing.) I expect everyone to feel very sorry for me. Have you started yet?

Today around the world: June 29 is Independence Day in Seychelles, a group of 40 granitic and about 50 coralline islands in the Indian Ocean northeast of Madagascar. Cinnamon trees are among Seychelles’ chief natural resources. The whole country must smell like one gigantic Cinnabon.

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06/28/04’s illustrious band:

Bottle of Fries

Brought to you by Eric Schlosser, author of Fast Food Nation.

So there I was yesterday, sitting on my deck, reading . . . then ducking back inside to put on SOCKS and SHOES and a SWEATSHIRT! What the heck is up with this whacked-out weather, man? It was the last weekend in June, and I put the blanket back on my bed.

But anyway. Back to FFN. This book is a good, old-fashioned, muckraking expose of the fast food industry. It covers everything from how the automobile has changed the American diet to the rags-to-riches stories of the heads of the largest chains to the political machinations of Big Food to -- and here’s perhaps the scariest part -- how the “food” is actually prepared. As in, what’s actually in the “burgers” and how the fries get their golden color and crispy texture.

You can tell by my use of quotation marks that the answers aren’t something you want to hear, especially on an empty stomach -- or one that’s full of fast food. The short answer is, most of the aromas and flavors come from little bottles of chemicals distilled by white-coated scientists in New Jersey. As for what’s in the burgers . . . well, I haven’t actually read that chapter yet, but I’ll let you know. I’m working my way up to it. And, I suspect, to veganism.

Changing the subject: Everyone who’s been listening to me complain that there ain’t no cure for the debit card blues can now heave a massive sigh of relief. Card delivered. Crisis canceled.

What happened was, my debit card expired at the end of May. It’s essentially a credit card that draws funds from my checking account. I expected a new card to arrive around mid-month, since I received a notice about it in the mail. But it never came. And never came and never came. End of May, no new card, and by then the old one had expired.

To make a long story shorter and considerably less profane, I called the credit card company a couple different times to tell them that I never received my card, please cancel the lost one and send a new one. Will do, they said. But still no card in my mailbox. Then finally last week I got a credit card rep who informed me that I needed to be talking to the bank that issued the card, not to the credit card crew; they just recorded my “lost card” report.

OH, REALLY! And no one thought to mention this during the past 6 weeks? So I called the bank and chewed some serious heinie. Result: The new card was delivered to me in person at work today. And I’ve been charged $25 for the privilege. Yeah. Next time I inconvenience someone this thoroughly, remind me to demand payment for it.

But I’m happy to have this resolved, really. I’m no longer relying on checks to make purchases, which is a relief since so many places don’t accept them any more. I’m also not using my actual credit card for purchases, which is a relief since now I won’t rack up interest on the balance. I’ll be able to withdraw cash and make deposits at ATMs again instead of having to drive the 15+ miles to the nearest branch of my little credit union. Most importantly, however, I have updated my eBay account with the new card’s information and can now resume bidding on out-of-print CDs. Priorities, man. Gotta have priorities.

Today around the world: June 28 is the birthday of Kuan Kung, the god of war, in Taiwan. It’s also World War I Day in the U.S. War, war, war.

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06/24/04’s illustrious band:

Manila Day

Today around the world: June 24 is Manila Day in the Philippines. The populace celebrates by stuffing everything in the country into tan envelopes of varying sizes.

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06/23/04’s illustrious band:

Keeping Time

Brought to you by WhereDidtheTimeGo.com.
Want some help figuring out how you've spent your life? Check out this site. And pay special attention to the little figure walking along the top of the progress bar. According to my profile, I’ve spent 3.9 months of my life caring about celebrities.

Today around the world: June 23 is the Grand Duke’s Birthday in Luxembourg. Cake for everyone!

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06/21/04’s illustrious band:

The Man Who Swallowed Drums

Brought to you by Jeff Thacher, pioneering vocal percussionist of my current voices-only faves, Rockapella.

Vocal percussionists are mouth drummers, human beatboxes, people who spit for a living. VPs, as they’re called, in addition to being very popular at parties, allow a cappella ensembles to put a beat in the background without polluting their purity with actual instruments.

Far beyond the boom-chicka-boom rap rasps of the 80s, modern VPs can simulate everything from snare drums, tom-toms and cymbals to wood blocks and sleigh bells. VPs use specialized equipment like sound pickups (developed by Thacher) that adhere to the throat to capture sounds not articulated by the lips and tongue. And waterproof microphones, of course. They have their own online newsletter, got spit? and community sites like MouthDrumming.com and HumanBeatBox.com.

Why do I care? Because it’s amazing the range of sounds the human body can create by itself -- and amazing how much technology people will use to produce an “all-natural” sound.

Today around the world: June 21 is the Summer Solstice in the Northern Hemisphere. Yay extra minutes of light! In honor of this occasion, I’ll be blasting Rockapella’s arrangement of Here Comes the Sun down the length of Highway 62 this evening. Look for the black Mediamobile with the windows down and the sunroof open.

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06/17/04’s illustrious band:

Livin’ Large

Brought to you by my continuing tribute to favorite a cappella groups.

Today’s featured artists are the Bobs, a quartet of singers whose middle names all happen to be Bob. Their album My, I’m Large was one of the first a cappella tapes I bought and has remained high on my list of favorites for 15 years or so. The title song on that album is about the weird feeling of your body expanding just before you fall asleep. You’ve got to hear it to believe it.

Anyway, the Bobs aren’t the only ones livin’ large. Click the link below to read an article about and links to items recognized as the largest of their kind. Special shout-out to Sister-san, who with friends once took a Tour de Monument to document oversized roadside attractions in Minnesota.

Pop Candy: Livin’ Large

Today around the world: June 17 is World Day to Combat Desertification and Drought. I can assure you that the metro area where I live has been doing its part all spring long by attracting rain, rain, and more rain.

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06/15/04’s illustrious band:

Stage Love

Brought to you by music groupies.

It’s been a quiet few weeks around the Acres, so I’ve been reading up on a music group I like (Rockapella, in case you’re wondering). I learned a new term from some of the fan sites: stage love. Stage love is when a performer appears to sending a fan love, or at least special attention, from the stage: nodding, waving, pointing, making eye contact, or even singing directly to some lucky audience member. This is what groupies live for, this feeling of being noticed and included in the lives of their idols, even if just for a moment, even if just for show.

Can’t blame them, though, can you? Can’t blame them for wanting to be part of something larger than themselves, like fandom for a particular group, and to be recognized for it -- especially when they’ve traveled hundreds or even thousands of miles to see the beloved, as many of the faithful do.

You also can’t blame them for enjoying the ritual of seeing the same concert (often with many of the same fellow fans) time after time. There’s something reassuring about knowing what’s going to happen, more or less, while still reserving room for a bit of the unexpected: new between-song banter from your favorite band, a new line reading from your favorite actor, a new homily from your favorite pastor, a new episode of your favorite TV show, a new guest speaker at the next Trek convention.

We’re all groupies for something. For me, it’s T’ai Chi. Class proceeds on the same schedule each time, but there’s always a new lesson to be learned or a new technique to be tried. It’s like singing a familiar song: the standard melody lies in the procession of warm-up, meditation, first section, break, and last round, with a jazz riff of a lesson second to last. Keeps me coming back for encore after encore.

Today around the world: June 15 is Youth Day in South Africa.

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06/09/04’s illustrious band:

Heaping Zit

Brought to you by WhoSEZ.

Long story short: a coworker at WhoSEZ’s office said she needed to express her feelings before they turned into “one heaping zit of frustration.” Yeah, that about sez it. We’ve all been there. I’m not there today, despite the grey skies and continuing rainy weather, but I have done many a tour of duty at the top of the heap.

Today around the world: June 9 is Heroes Day in Uganda, when an entire nation goes out for long sandwiches.

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06/08/04’s illustrious band:

Two Cents

Brought to you by The Megapenny Project, www.kokogiak.com/megapenny.

Ever wonder what a trillion pennies would look like? Megapenny (not to be confused with James Bond’s amanuensis, Miss Moneypenny) can show you. And did you know that if you lay 16 pennies side by side, they measure one foot? If you stack the same sixteen cents, the stack is one inch tall. Remember this next time you need to measure something and have no tape measure, just a lot of change. Let the site walk you through how big a pile certain numbers of pennies would be, like 50,000 or a million or more. Cool beans! Count 'em!

Today around the world: 8 is Best Friends Day in the U.S. Love ya, BF(s)!

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06/07/04’s illustrious band:

Spoil Sport

Brought to you by Mother Media.

I’ve been quite busy lately, but I’m definitely making time today to send a big shout-out to Mother Media, whose two-week visit to Sensational Acres ended last week. My nickname as a wee sprog was Sport, and spoil me she did. This includes gifts both large and small, including, but not limited to:

• Painting two rooms and a hallway, and their ceilings (I got to choose colors and help with the living room.)
  
• Getting a plumber in to solve a drain problem
  
• Getting a handyman in to solve the “How the heck to you hang these shelves?” problem (turned out to be a hardware problem rather than user error -- it wasn’t our fault!)
  
• Making breakfast on weekday mornings, packing me lunches, and often cooking supper
  
• Making sure I got my daily ration of ice cream
  
• Helping me with a story for the Award-Winning Magazine by attending a dance class, her first and only to date
  
• Putting up with psychotic cats who saw nothing wrong with bringing gifts of dead rodents to the doorstep
  
• Keeping me company indoors during one of the rainiest two-week stretches on record
  

As if that’s not enough, she brought me birthday presents, too.

And before you ask: no, she can’t come to your house next. After visiting her sisters and making a brief stop at her own homestead, Mother Media will return to the Acres next month to housesit while I’m away. She says she has more projects to do, even though I keep urging her – begging her, really -- to take it easy.

So thanks, Mom! You’re the best!

Today around the world: June 7 is the Queen’s Birthday in New Zealand. Very fitting for any story involving Mother Media, wouldn’t you say?

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06/01/04’s illustrious band:

Saw Buck

Geez, it seems like everybody wants to go to the Mall of America these days.

I arrived home one day last week to find my cat, Warren Peace, Defender of the Acres, arching and hissing through the chain-link fence at a dangerous intruder. (Sprite, a true scaredy cat, cowered against the back door.) Right there in my neighbor’s yard, in the shadow of the largest shopping mall in the country, stood a deer. The poor thing appeared to be about a year old; its fawn spots were gone, but the antler nubs were still pretty short. This young buck seemed to be quite alone.

Slightly spooked by my arrival in the yard, Buck backed off from the fence but did not bound away. I called for Mother Media to come outside quick, and bring the phone. She did, and we just stood there gaping at the creature for a minute.

I saw plenty of deer growing up on the Great Plains, but I’ve never, ever seen a deer in my current neighborhood before. While the yards in my ‘burb are pretty generous in size, it’s not a wildlifey area at all, rabbits notwithstanding. (And there are a few fewer standing these days, thanks to the mighty hunter mentioned above.) The nearest deer-friendly habitat I can think of would be the woodsy banks of the Minnesota River, but that’s a couple miles from Sensational Acres, down a steep hill, separated by many busy roadways. I really have no idea how this deer reached my yard.

Anyway, Buck soon disappeared around the corner of the neighbor’s house, breaking the spell. I dialed 911 and asked for Animal Control, hoping an urban deer wrangler of some kind could come and herd him back to safety. I was curtly informed that (A) Animal Control was no longer on duty, as it was after 5:00, and (B) there’s nothing they could do for or with a deer anyway. I was advised to just leave him alone to find his own way home, since too much human hubbub would probably spook him into injuring himself anyway.

So I hung up the phone and took a walk around the block. I didn’t see Buck again, nor encounter anyone else who had, so I don’t know where he ended up. I hope he found his way back to refuge of some kind. I think he’s better off shopping closer to home.

Today around the world: June 1 marks the Arrival of the Swiss at the Port-Noir in Switzerland. Switzerland, with four official languages, boasts a 99% literacy rate. Despite being landlocked, it maintains a merchant marine fleet of 29 vessels. The official CIA listing for Switzerland specifies 66 airports but only one 1 heliport. The chocolate is fantastic.

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