Fruit, and a first

First of all, I must congratulate Other Patti for writing down my official 2000th comment yesterday! As a celebration, I don’t know what she will do, but I’m going out to get more sushi at lunchtime.

I slept late this morning, so Buck has gone out to find me some fruit (yes, I know I can change the time zone settings on my blog, but the thing is, as Ruben hinted at a bunch of posts ago, I forget to change the time zone back). Fruit is the one thing I crave that doesn’t (necessarily) have added sugar in it. What I find truly amazing is the sheer amount and variety of foodstuffs that have added sugar in them.

I am haphazardly still trying to follow the advice in my new favorite book, “Anticancer: A New Way of Life” (David Servan-Schreiber). Yes, I like it very much. However, it advises against sugar or honey (except as an occasional treat), and Buck and I are finding right now just how many things have hidden sugar in them. Organic evaporated cane juice seems harmless, but is still sugar. On the brighter side, I walked way over a mile yesterday — the book recommends a lot of exercise and activity. Hope I can keep that up today.

Powerlessness and power

I must start out this blog post by admitting a thing that might make me either very popular here in Cincinnati, or, possibly, unpopular: we have electrical power at our house.

Ever since Monday’s infamous “deluge” by the remnants of hurricane Ike, with huge windstorms and much power outage, the most common question around here is “Do you have power?”

We came home, slowly but surely, yesterday, to find out that we did have power at our house. We came home slowly because, on Sunday when the windstorm hit, we were in a plane in the region of Knoxville, flying home from Ft. Lauderdale. Thus, since the Cincinnati airport was closed, we were rerouted to Atlanta where, as you saw, we stayed the night.

Further slowness in our arrival was caused by a huge fallen tree totally blocking a street leading to our house. So we had to walk the last quarter mile, dragging suitcases behind us, suitcases whose wheels are now probably permanently embedded with twigs from said tree. Several people stopped their cars to say hi and to welcome us home. Our friend Steve and Peter’s friend Betsy arrived at our house as we did, to help check on things.

Amount of damage: many twigs in yard. Many still-green leaves. Two limbs from giant oak broke, one fallen on our roof, and one still hanging from the tree. Apparently no damage to the roof, not nasty damage anyway.

So here we sit, listening to the not-storm (i.e. quiet) out of our window, with the frequent addition of power saw sounds in the distance.

Walk/Don't Walk

One thing that an outsider in Boulder has to notice is the actual human rights that pedestrians have. If you attempt to cross the street, the cars will actually stop for you, and wait patiently for you to cross.

This fascinates me to no end! In Cincinnati, it’s a bit dangerous to try crossing without the walk light being on. In Manhattan, of course, you’re considered fair game whether or not you have the walk light.

Upon thinking of all of the above for a few minutes, I have come to the realization that I could get used to the pedestrian lights here. In Cincinnati, I might actually walk out into the street without looking, next time I have a walk light.

Words of One Syllable Dept.

Just how does Chris know that both my husband and redoubtable friend, Other Patti, have both been startled out of their skins by my merely starting up iTunes?

How to Turn your Mac into a Haunted Computer ~ Chris Pirillo

How would you like to have someone walk by a Mac that no one is touching… and have it scare the beejeebuz out of them? It’s quite an easy thing to turn your Mac into a seemingly haunted machine, and I’m going to show you how.

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Hacking my shoes

Yesterday, I got myself two new pairs of shoes. The soles were nice and new, all textured rubber and Vibram and form-fitting. One pair is even totally vegetarian: rubber products and cloth. I didn’t know that you could get vegetarian shoes, but evidently it’s its own category in the shoe world. Maybe my shoe-buying subconscious is trying to go green. I wonder even if there is any proof (probably there is) whether vegetarian shoes require fewer resources than leather shoes.

As I was walking out of the store with big package in hand, I flashed onto a memory of a ritual that my father and I would enact every time that I got new shoes when I was a girl. This was back in the days of the early and mid sixties, when they still made shoes with real leather soles. If you’re too young to remember these, a key fact to remember about your new shoes was that shiny new leather soles were extremely slippery, allowing you to have an embarrassing skid or two even on innocent-seeming rugs.

I would, in this ritual, head to the den and get my new shoes out of their boxes and wrappings, and he would get the pair of scissors from their holder beside the phone in the bar room. With each shoe in turn turned upside down in his hand, he would score the sole up-and-down, crosswise, diagonally from the left, then from the right. Always that order. Then, if the heels were leather too, always the case on those wonderful old leather loafers that I can never quite find any more, the pattern would be repeated on the soles.

This didn’t make a whole great difference to the slipperiness of the shoes, but they got a good head start in getting properly scuffed and textured and, my father hoped, safe.

And this was me and my dad, hacking my shoes. I don’t know if we have real leather soles any more, not if you’re not Manolo Blahnik or the like. Certainly, I wouldn’t take the points of a pair of scissors to Manolos. I have that much sense in my head at least.

So that was just a small bit of memory, and of missing my Dad again. Been a while since I thought of him for a sustained period.

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