thought stream

In spite of the state's other shortcomings, California is providing us with some mighty tasty strawberries this year.









Strawberry Alarm Clock are also from California. And until recently, still touring, apparently. My LP collection includes their album "Incense and Peppermints."






Peppermint is one of the most widely used and useful herbs. It has wondrous medicinal properties, tastes wonderful all on its own, but I believe peppermint was put on the planet to be paired with chocolate:

Trust me . . .

You have to read today's "Opinuary Column" over at Jesus' General.

Making the Grade

It’s that time of year again – PMS time. PMS is the unfortunate acronym for “Performance Management System,” the employee performance review procedures in place where I work. Actually they’ve done away with PMS in the past year, in favor of PM1, PM2, PM3, and PM4 – but “PMS” probably more accurately conveys the agony and general malaise that overcomes my department when the performance review cycle rolls around.

Last week I had my own review, which consisted chiefly of my supervisor telling me how badly my colleagues and I have disappointed him by refusing to cheerfully continue enabling our most dysfunctional colleague’s behavior. He went on to critique (criticize) my own performance because I don’t execute the duties of my position exactly as he would, and left no doubt in my mind that he would rather have someone else occupying my office. Preferably a minority male, because there are so few of those in leadership positions in the field. (Never mind the fact that there are woefully few minorities of any gender within 50 miles of the university where I work.)

So…in order to earn “Outstanding” assessments on next year’s review, it looks like I need to make some major changes.

Anybody know where I can get some melanin and testicles?

(Image borrowed from here.)

At Least it Wasn't a Moose

(Or, "These ain't your momma's vacation pictures.")

Well, part of the "Mystery" in my "Magical Mystery Midlife Tour" was, unfortunately, solved early in my trip when, upon being enthusiastically greeted to the Cape by one of its resident deer, I realized that I hadn't accounted for my $500 insurance deductible in the overall vacation budget.



I'm guessing the deer looked worse, but I didn't check. It was night and I wasn't really in the mood to feel any queasier than I already did. Luckily I sustained no damage myself, and the car made it the final 30 miles to my hotel in Provincetown, MA without showing signs of mechanical troubles. I checked in to my hotel, unpacked the bottle of wine I'd had the foresight to bring along, and after making a few phone calls, enjoyed the night-time view of P-town harbor from my own private deck.


The next day I called the Gecko and learned that I might as well be back in Bubbaville, at least so far as having an insurance adjustor handy went.

Anyway, running around to the police station (had to make 2 trips because the officer hadn't left the paperwork for me by the time I got there Monday) and finding a garage that could tell me if the "Check Engine" warning was anything serious (it wasn't) cut into my sightseeing time, but nevertheless I tried really hard not to let my Bambicidal incident put too much of a damper on my vacation. I spent one afternoon just walking around Provincetown, browsing a few shops and having a decadent lunch (bacon, tomato, and brie pannini....with a healthy side salad, of course!).


I looked up one of my Mom's old acquaintances who has a gallery there, and later had a nice chat with the fellow who ran the fudge shop I visited. Talk about your dream jobs! Even though it was too early in the season for lots of places to be open, that meant there were no crowds which suited me just fine.


On Tuesday I had a much better wildlife adventure, and went on an afternoon whale watching cruise. It was incredible! We got really lucky, according to the biologist/guide -- there was a whale who was very curious about our boat and hung around, swimming back and forth underneath the boat and giving us a fantastic show for over half an hour. There were dozens of other whales feeding in the area too.


I also spent some time on the Cape Cod National Seashore -- very nice & isolated and . . . natural. A nice change from my last beach experience, which was of the Myrtle variety.


Wednesday I was due in Boston, and the weather was perfect for the drive. I decided to stop in Plymouth for lunch, and after gobbling down a lobster roll at a wharf-side fish market/cafe, I took a quick walk to see the Mayflower II and Plymouth Rock.


Once in Boston, intellikid treated me to dim sum for my birthday. She insisted that I try the tripe. I did. I let her finish it. Everything else was yum, though -- especially the roast pork buns. I don't have any photos from my stay in Boston, because aside from an afternoon at the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, all I did was eat.

Friday morning we got the car packed in an incredibly short time, and left Boston about 11:30. Spent the night in PA, and then during the last leg of our trip Saturday we stopped off for a while at Dinosaur Land in Virginia -- one last roadside attraction before dragging our weary selves back home.


(If you've got nothing better to do, there are more pics here

Magical Midlife Mystery Tour

It's time for me to leave on the Magical Midlife Mystery Tour. Well, the only mystery is how much the trip is ultimately going to cost me. Intellikid's semester finishes next Thursday, so I'm heading Boston-ward, taking my very first ever all-by-myself vacation. I'm spending a few days in Provincetown, MA , then on to Boston to reunite with my kiddo. I hope all her stuff fits in the car!

Needless to say, posting will be at a minimum for the next week. Unless I need to arrange bail . . .

Funky Friday, Birthday Edition

Along with Ms. Wench here, also debuting in 1960 was Jimmy Smith's album "Midnight Special." Take a listen to "Jumpin' the Blues" and feel happy:



The party starts at 8 and lasts all year. Don't be late.

Local Color

Welcome to Buford's World. That's what the stick-on lettering says on the door of the building pictured. Buford is a local artist of sorts (when he's not working on the garbage truck) whose canvases are a few blank walls on some buildings in town. My camera was acting wonky on the day I snapped this shot, but I'm making it a mission to capture Buford's works before someone decides that they need to be painted over.

I'd also like to get Buford to paint the shed in my backyard, but the landlady (my mother) might not go for it. Oh, well . . .

One neat thing about small towns is that the smaller populations make it easier for the local characters to stand out. In addition to Buford, there is a fellow I call Forrest (after that Gump person). Our Forrest walks, though, doesn't run. Nevertheless, every day he must cover 15 miles or more in the county, walking stick or umbrella in hand. His age is hard to determine, and there is something definitely not quite right about him, in a Boo Radley kind of way. He always walks alone.

I usually see "Forrest" walking down the highway as I'm commuting to and from work. One recent evening when I saw him just standing alongside the road, at the spot where earlier in the day someone's big black dog had lost a race with someone else's motor vehicle, I wondered why he was staying in place, not moving. Well, the next morning when I drove to work, I happened to notice that the dog's body had been moved off the road. In fact, the realization struck me that the many cats and dogs who meet their fates on Highway 421 and aren't rendered one with the blacktop are frequently "relocated" from the traffic lanes to the shoulder of the road. I suspect that Forrest's mission is to spare these beasts any final indignation, give them a more restful resting place until, maybe, an owner comes to claim the body.

Some people (my mother) think that people like Forrest should be made to do "real" work, to earn their keep in society and not be a drain on resources. If my suspicion about Forrest's life work is true, however, I think his actions do constitute real work. Caring about something, simply for the sake of caring, is a job that not enough people do, regardless of the pay.

All About Me Meme

I am being a terrible blogger lately, but truly have been a bit busy with work and finishing up school work and honing my procrastination skills. However, April IS poetry month, so I posted a new offering at word art.

On this page, though, I took the lazy way out and offer the following trivia:

Name 3 things in your wallet:
1) Does purse count?
2) Because I don't use a wallet right now.
3) But my purse's contents include: lip balm, insurance card (yay!), and car keys.


Name 3 things you always wear:
1) You mean "always always"?
2) Does skin count?
3) And hair?


Name 3 things you do when you are really stressed:
1) Eat
2) Go for a walk
3) Cuss. A lot.

Name 3 career choices:

1) Restaurant reviewer

2) Travel writer
3) Philanthropist


Name 3 goals in 2010:

1) Pay down debt
2) Write more
3) Worry less


Name 3 plans for the coming week:
1) Day off Friday
2) Bike ride with Sis
3) Give the dog a bath


3 things I want in a relationship
(OTHER THAN love):
1) respect
2) laughter
3) communion


Two truths and a lie (in no particular order):
1) I don't like monkeys
2) My eyes are green
3) I once drank half a bottle of Jack Daniels all by myself


Readers, choose to respond as you like, or not. Of course I'm interested in you, but I'm not going to be pushy about it. Heck, you can just tell me one secret about yourself...and I'll promise not to tell anybody else.

Funky Friday, Tax Day Edition

Many happy returns, y'all.

All Night Long (I want to do my taxes with you) - watch more funny videos

Sixteen to Fifty

...or is it seventeen? I don't know. It'll get here when it gets here. Although time does seem to be speeding up at a precipitous rate ... and it's likely to just get worse as fifty comes and goes. Or at least that's what they say.

I'm quite looking forward to my birthday gift to myself, though -- my very first ever solo vacation, a few days "on the Cape" before fetching intellikid & stuff home from BU next month. Meanwhile, today I indulged in a 90 minute massage, which felt as good as a week-long vacation. Yeah, it was far more enjoyable than the procedure pictured...

Which begs the question: Why is it completely acceptable for dogs, cats, and other domesticated critters to solicit physical touch from humans, while it is generally frowned upon if we humans publicly seek out the same sort of contact from each other?

Discuss.