Weird Science

I can't remember how long this bowl of strawberry puree has been in the fridge. But long enough to get a carpet of mold. Some little person would thrill to have such a perfect piece of felt for their miniature house! What did I do with it you ask? I stuck it back in the fridge for further development.

Good Friday

O God in heaven, have mercy on us! Lord Jesus Christ,
intercede for your people, deliver us at the opportune time,
preserve in us the true genuine Christian faith, collect your
scattered sheep with your voice, your divine Word as Holy Writ
calls it. Help us to recognize your voice, help us not to be
allured by the madness of the world, so that we may never fall
away from you, O Lord Jesus Christ.
... Albrecht Durer (1471-1528)

I'm St. Melito of Sardis!

"You have a great love of history and liturgy. You’re attached to the
traditions of the ancients, yet you recognize that the old world — great as it
was — is passing away. You are loyal to the customs of your family, though you
do not hesitate to call family members to account for their sins."

Well how about that-this does sound like me. Check out which church father you are (if you're not shocked! shocked! at the patriarchical favoritism of it all.) As for me, I'm going to take it again until I recognize a name.

I AM...

...a pre-modern stuck in a post-modern world.

I THINK...

...pulchritude is the ugliest word for beauty.

I FEEL...

...like wallpaper. Expected to be there, but often overlooked and largely unnoticed.

Miscellaneous

Squats

Squatter communities are everywhere. People live on the train tracks, the grassy road medians, any place where they can put together cardboard, rice sacks, tarps or anything they can find to make four walls and a roof. These are the kids that grow up in them. The kids are so adorable it makes me ache to see their wretched living conditions.

Danica

I have to go all the way to the Philippines to find my name popular. Out of these 100 kids two were named Danica. I don't know why considering it's a Danish name not Spanish. Odd.

Delicacy

I have no stomach for balut a delicacy of boiled duck embryo. Fortunately Steve had the iron girded esophagus that could keep this baby down. He described it as slimy similar to eating oyesters. He didn't chew it just swallowed it whole with a dash of salt.

Sights and Smells

To and Fro

Intro to the Philippines

This photo gives but a hint of the general melee that is Manila traffic. I don't think they have a concept of right of way, but I could be wrong. You'll notice that as we are driving straight ahead cars are turning to the left and the right of us at the same time. To help with congestion they've removed intersections. Instead, you have to drive past your left turn and do a U-turn. Usually, it's you and three or four other cars all making the turn together into on coming traffic. I can't imagine a traffic light causing more confusion and congestion than a five abreast U-turn.

Steve's Aunt Alice has a unique approach to traffic cops. After making a left hand turn (which is illegal-see above about the u-turn business) and being waved to stop by a traffic cop (they stand in the street making a general nuisance of themselves) she said, "If you stop, then you'll spend all day on the side of road arguing with them." And with that, she sailed on by refusing to stop. Until, that is, they hopped on their scooters and cycles and chased us down forcing her to pull over. She's lived in the Philippines for 36 years and could count on one hand the number of times she's been pulled over. On a previous occasion a cop pulled her over on the baseless accusation that she had passed a car in a No Overtake zone. How could that be, she asked, when we haven't seen let alone passed a single car on this road? She argued her way out of that episode by telling him she was in his country helping his people so he should let her go. And he did. What makes traffic stops so annoying is that they take your license and force you to spend a day retrieving it after paying a large fine. Gov't bureaucracy...gotta love it. Can't blame her for ignoring the buggers.

Reflection

I realized, while scrubbing the kitchen sink clean of raw chicken juice, that I’m not a goal maker or goal achiever. I like to think that I am, but really I’m not. I used to contemplate resolutions and list out goals, but I never accomplished them so I only wound up depressed at my lack of ambition and my subsequent failure to produce. Yet….I FEEL like I need to be goal driven, ambitious, driven to succeed, to accomplish great things. I’m not content with being ordinary, yet I don’t have the ambition to be extraordinary. The problem as I see it is that I’m a consummate dilettante. I’m interested in too many potential life scenarios to commit to just one, or rather, be trapped by any one. If I get close to making a commitment to pursuing one particular dream, I can always talk myself out of it and into a different one. I don’t have enough passion for any one dream to get it off the ground. Should I be bothered by this or simply accept it?

I want to eat those cheeks!

I'm an Auntie!

My sister finally gave birth to her first child! He was a week overdue. I was beginning to think my sister had a large growth instead of a baby in there. But no. At 4:35pm on August 1, 2006 Dexter Stanley popped out at 7 lbs 9 oz and 20 1/4" long. He's also the first grandchild for the family so my parents are probably crying from delight right about now. They've waited thirteen years for this kid to appear on the scene, not that they were pushy or anything. I told my sister she had to be the first to give birth. It's her duty as the eldest. Now that she's done it, I guess this means I'm next....eek!

A ring of hell

This report reminded me of those plastic surgery horror stories you'd hear in the 80's. I want to say this happened to Kenny Rogers, but I can't be sure. The doctore would suck the fat from thighs and buttocks but then the remaining lumps of lard would redistribute to a place more unsightly for fat deposits than the original position like the back.

We thought we excised the Taliban from Afghanistan only to witness the horror of it reappearing in Somalia. I didn't think Mogadishu could get any worse, but I'm obviously wrong. Although, some semblance of structure might be a relief to the inhabitants after decades of anarchy. How long will that relief last when you can get stoned for painted toenails?

I must admit to a morbid curiousity about Mogadishu. How much chaos, violence, and evil can a people withstand? In their case it appears limitless. After all these years Mogadishu still exists as an entity unto itself run first by warlords who didn't answer to the larger government and now the Taliban who will not defer to the Somalian government either. Who do you think has the greater resolve to win all of Somalia?

Death is not the End

My day was filled with thoughts of death. I had no intention to think about death all day. It started with Moxy (not her real name) a woman I work with telling me about her grandma. She was 87 years old and only ate hot cereal for breakfast. One morning she woke up and told her husband to prepare her bacon and eggs. She sat down across from her son and started to dig in. After taking a few bites her head fell back and her eyes rolled up. Died on the spot. That is the perfect way to die. In action doing something enjoyable with people you love all around living life to the very end. Granted it was a bit shocking to the son and husband, but I’m sure they’d much prefer that than watching her waste away in a hospital month after month day after day.

Moxy then brought up her desire to kayak around the Channel Islands, but she’d heard the water is shark infested so she’s a bit fearful. Her friend kayaked down the California coast. About the time he got to the cliffs of Big Sur he noticed a shark the size of his kayak following him. The shark tracked him for over a mile determining if this strange object was worth the effort of attack. Creepy! That got us started on the topic of violent death. Ways we'd choose to die IF it had to be violent. Any kind of death connected to water is abhorrent to me. It took living in Hawaii for six months to make me amenable to swimming in the ocean as I always had a fear of odd creatures eating my toes. My imagination kicks into overdrive especially in a lake since I can’t see the bottom and I know some snakes like lakes. About the only type of water death that doesn’t terrify me is drowning in a pool. A pool is so suburban and banal I can’t work up any fear about it.

From this conversation it seemed perfectly natural to check out the LA Coroner’s website. I’d heard that you could take a tour. I didn’t find any tour info, but I did find the section with photos of unidentified dead bodies. My morbid curiosity led me to look at all of them despite the depressing nature of their stories. Many of them were suicides mostly jumpers. Many were homeless folks with no real identification only street names used as façades for their lives between the cracks. Behind the façade is a mystery that the Coroner’s office is hoping will be solved by people like me randomly looking through photos. One of the mysteries was an Asian guy between 22 and 32. He had kidnapped one or two people and held them for ransom. One of the victims pulled free turned on the kidnapper and shot him with his (the Kidnapper) own gun. Now he’s in the morgue unidentified. So many sordid stories encapsulated in those photos.

After that “tour” I was thoroughly depressed. Depressed at the “lives of quiet desperation” they must have lived. Depressed that they had no hope, no love, and no joy to sustain them through trials and troubles. Depressed at the violence that shaped and ended their lives. Depressed because many people think death is the end. They despair of this life and hope for relief in the next or they hope for non-existence the cessation of all thought and experience. Unfortunately for them, death is not the end. It’s merely the beginning of life with God or life without God based on our choices before death. Do we believe in the promise of life given to us through Jesus Christ or not? This life is preparation for the life to come.

I leave you with the lyrics to “Death is not the End” by Nick Cave:

When you’re sad and when you’re lonely And you haven’t got a friend
Just remember that death is not the end
And all that you held sacred Falls down and does not mend
Just remember that death is not the end
Not the end, not the end
Just remember that death is not the end
When you’re standing on the crossroads That you cannot comprehend
Just remember that death is not the end
And all your dreams have vanished And you don’t know what’s up the bend
Just remember that death is not the end
Not the end, not the end
Just remember that death is not the end
When the storm clouds gather round you And heavy rains descend
Just remember that death is not the end
And there’s no-one there to comfort you With a helping hand to lend
Just remember that death is not the end
Not the end, not the end
Just remember that death is not the end
For the tree of life is growing Where the spirit never dies
And the bright light of salvation Up in dark and empty skies
When the cities are on fire With the burning flesh of men
Just remember that death is not the end
When you search in vain to find Some law-abiding citizen
Just remember that death is not the end
Not the end, not the end
Just remember that death is not the end
Not the end, not the end
Just remember that death is not the end

He said what now?

Which ex-president said the following:

"Iran today is, in a sense, the only country where progressive ideas enjoy a vast constituency. It is there that the ideas that I subscribe to are defended by a majority." He continues. "In every single election, the guys I identify with got two-thirds to 70 percent of the vote. There is no other country in the world I can say that about, certainly not my own."

My first guess would've been Jimmy Carter since he says asinine things like that all the time. But I'd be wrong. I can't believe ANY president of ANY democratic country would say something so stupid.

What exactly are the ideas that he subscribes to? Perhaps he's been a closest homosexual hater all these years and he's cool with that "progressive idea" of killing them. Or perhaps he subscribes to that "progressive idea" that young girls who happen in self defense to kill their rapists should be stoned to death. Or perhaps he meant the "progressive idea" of pushing Isreal into the ocean. He made no qualification or distinction between the Iranian government and those who are trying to overthrow the tyranny of the mullahs. If he had openly sided with the later group I would give him props for doing the right thing. Giving them support in an international setting like Davos could go far in helping their cause. But no, that's not what he did.

He's talking about IRAN (egads man not IRAN!) of all countries, which should make us seriously question his grip on reality. Perhaps he's already slipped into the fuzzy thought of senility and he's got his countries confused. At a minimum it's sloppy thinking /speaking for someone supposedly so "intelligent".

You'll find the answer in this excellent though scary article by Mark Steyn.

Our Only Hope

"Man," writes Loren Eisley, "is the Cosmic Orphan." He is the only creature in the universe who asks, Why? Other animals have instincts to guide them, but man has learned to ask questions. "Who am I?" he asks. "Why am I here? Where am I going?"

Ever since the Enlightenment, when modern man threw off the shackles of religion, he has tried to answer these questions without reference to God. But the answers that came back were not exhilarating, but dark and terrible. "You are an accidental by-product of nature, the result of matter plus time plus chance. There is no reason for your existence. All you face is death. Your life is but a spark in the infinite darkness, a spark that appears, flickers, and dies forever."

Modern man thought that in divesting himself of God, he had freed himself from all that stifled and repressed him. Instead, he discovered that in killing God, he had also killed himself.

Against this background of the modern predicament, the traditional Christian hope of the resurrection takes on an even greater brightness and significance. It tells man that he is no orphan after all, but the personal image of the Creator God of the universe; nor is his life doomed in death, for through the eschatological resurrection he may live in the presence of God forever.

This is a wonderful hope. But, of course, hope that is not founded in fact is not hope, but mere illusion.

Read the rest of William Lane Craig's article on the hope we can have because of the resurrection of Jesus Christ.

Hypocrisy?

So, ILLEGAL Mexicans want all the priveleges of U.S. Citizenship, yet their own government will not extend those same courtesies to LEGAL immigrants in Mexico (can there be that many? I'm asking this seriously not sarcastically...). Instead the Mexican constitution confirms that immigrants will be treated as second-class citizens within their adopted home. Where are all the protests over that?

Here's a taste of Mexican hospitality:
• Immigrants and foreign visitors are banned from public political discourse.
• Immigrants and foreigners are denied certain basic property rights.
• Immigrants are denied equal employment rights.
• Immigrants and naturalized citizens will never be treated as real Mexican citizens.
• Immigrants and naturalized citizens are not to be trusted in public service.
• Immigrants and naturalized citizens may never become members of the clergy.
• Private citizens may make citizens arrests of lawbreakers (i.e., illegal immigrants)and hand them to the authorities.
• Immigrants may be expelled from Mexico for any reason and without due process.

(HT: David Frum's Diary)

Cutting away the pain...

A woman I worked with did this to herself for about a year or two. Talk about creepy! She'd arrive covered in criss-cross cuts all along her forearms on both arms. When we tried talking to her about she'd deny anything was really wrong, but the cuttings mixed with the hysterical crying fits told us otherwise (yes, that's an understatement). She's still at my company, and she still crys every now and again, but the self-mutilation did stop.

I believe she stopped when she started volunteering for a small theater company and they eventually made her their stage manager. She required an activity that gave her purpose and pleasure and a peer group that needed her. Once she felt she was part of something bigger than herself she got better. Ain't that the truth for all of us though? We all need a purpose greater than ourselves to give our lives meaning.

WOW!

I am 1,006,292,425 seconds old! Can you figure out how many years that is?

Down with Tyranny!

I love stories like this. I have to laugh because compared to the signs people create about Bush, this was child's play. Yet it caused a furor that required forced demostrations in the streets in support of their "fearless" but apparently thin skinned leader.

Signs of Life

I took these during a short walk through my 'hood. One of those brilliant SoCal days after the rains where everything looks extra sharp and clear. The sun blazed but the crisp breeze kept me cool. A gorgeous, gorgeous day that underlines why I love California.

What ho!

What great taste the Indians have in their choice of British literature. Too bad the British penchant for taking the piss didn't rub off on them though. Life would be so dreary if you couldn't laugh at yourself.

The best Wooster is still Hugh Laurie who can now be seen as a cynical, sarcastic politically incorrect American on House, MD.

Run Dog Run!

I knew my dad should have patented his design. It was so perfect for small dogs with limited space to run. When our Westie was a pup my dad built a hamster-like wheel for him. Bogart (our beloved dog) LOVED that wheel. He'd get frustrated and jump on the wheel running furiously for ten minutes or so until he exercised away his frustration. Doing that several times a day gave him great exercise. I'll post a picture if I can find it of that wheel.

Yet the idea of exercising your fat Chow Chow on a treadmill in public seems so frivolous in my conception of Chinese life. I still think of that country in terms of Mao's cultural revolution. They propably would've eaten the dog not exercised it during Mao's reign since so many were starving from his cruelty.

The Hypocrisy of Hate-Crime Reporting

How many rural southern churches have to burn before any of the major news outlets report it as something serious and as a cause for concern? Jeff Jacoby of the Boston Globe gets to the nub of the problem (in my opinion) here.

SUPPOSE THAT in 2005 unknown hoodlums had firebombed 10 gay bookstores and bars in San Francisco, reducing several of them to smoking rubble. It takes no
effort to imagine the alarm that would have spread through the Bay Area's gay
community or the manhunt that would have been launched to find the attackers.
The blasts would have been described everywhere as ''hate crimes," editorial
pages would have thundered with condemnation, and public officials would have
vowed to crack down on crimes against gays with unprecedented severity.

Suppose that vandals last month had attacked 10 Detroit-area mosques and
halal restaurants, leaving behind shattered windows, wrecked furniture, and
walls defaced with graffiti. The violence would be national front-page news. On
blogs and talk radio, the horrifying outbreak of anti-Muslim bigotry would be
Topic No. 1. Bills would be introduced in Congress to increase the penalties for
violent ''hate crimes" -- no one would hesitate to call them by that term -- and
millions of Americans would rally in solidarity with Detroit's Islamic
community.

Fortunately, those sickening scenarios are only hypothetical. Here is one
that is not:

Ten arson attacks against 10 churches -- all of them Baptist, all in small
Alabama towns, all in the space of eight days: If anything is a hate crime,
obviously this is.

Or is it? ''We're looking to make sure this is not a hate crime and that we
do everything that we need to do," FBI Special Agent Charles Regantold reporters in Birmingham.
Make sure this is not a hate crime? If 10 Brooklyn synagogues went up in flames
in a little over a week, wouldn't investigators start from the assumption that
the arson was motivated by hatred of Jews? If 10 Cuban-American shops and
restaurants in Miami were deliberately burned to the ground, wouldn't the
obvious presumption be that anti-Cuban animus was involved?

Apparently Baptist churches are different.

Jacoby ends with this:

But real progress will come only when we abandon the whole misguided notion of ''hate crimes," which deems certain crimes more deserving of outrage and punishment not because of what the criminal did, but because of the group to which the victim belonged. The burning of a church is a hateful act regardless of the congregants' skin color. That some people bend over backward not to say so is a disgrace. (emphasis mine)

Amen!

Quote

“Idealism is the noble toga that political gentlemen drape over their will to power.”
--Aldous Huxley

Compare and Contrast

The brouhaha over the publishing of cartoons "offensive" to Muslim sensibilities is a joke. I can't take seriously those Muslims who claim they're shocked, shocked by the portrayals of Mohammed in the Danish newspaper, but then have no problem with cartoons like these published regularly in Middle East newspapers. If these outraged Muslims want respect for their religion, perhaps they should encourage their own Muslim governments to respect the religious sensibilities of other religions like Judaism, Christianity, and Buddhism. The Taliban destroyed ancient Buddhist statues in Bamiyan. I don't remember any Buddhists burning down Afghan embassies or responding in violence as a result. Christians and other minority religious folk are regularly persecuted in Muslim countries. Call me unimpressed with the current outrage for poorly drawn cartoons of Mohammed. Above are several of the cartoons that supposedly started the outrage. However, I read recently that these cartoons were published in an EGYPTIAN newspaper months ago without any violent reaction on the part of their readers. So my question is, why the violence now?

Ephemera

The receipt on the left (who I'll refer to as Figgy) is from 8/17/03 at 3:26pm. Mine, as you can see, is from yesterday. I checked out the same copy of Lost in the Cosmos as Figgy along with two titles that have the word "Peace" in them. But why did Figgy check out a different copy of the same book at the same time (items one and three on his receipt)? I want to know. You're Worthless and Other Depressing Nuggets of Wisdom is item two on Figgy's list and The Rough Guide: Europe is item four. Those two don't seem to go together. The first three or rather two books go together for those who are mildy depressed or questioning their existence (or so it would seem from the titles). But a travel guide suggests hope, fun, adventure all lovely things. Perhaps Figgy was hoping to dump depression or find meaning through travel.

I do have a mild curiousity now to read You're Worthless just to see if it matches my own conception of what makes me (or one) worthless. That, and I like the word nuggets.

Nuggets.

Fashion Flare

Are these for Mennonites, Mormons, or Muslims? If they were more retro, say circa 1907, they'd be a fashion trend, but as is I'd fear for the mental health of my child after being seen in public wearing such a garment. The taunts would haunt her well into middle-age. I know from personal experience what can linger on when all other memories fall away. Hint: It's usually not the pleasant memories that last. I believe the promises for this piece of clothing are doubtful at best. However, I do double dog dare you to purchase and wear to determine if there is truth in their advertising.

Fatwah of Futility

Did you hear about the fatwah issued by an Egyptian Cleric declaring that any Muslim couple having sex in the nude had thus annulled their marriage? Their nakedness defeated their union. As they say, you can't make this stuff up!

Is this Cynicism on Display?

I bought this postcard and others like it at the Museum of Communism in Prague because it lampooned Communism and made me laugh in the process. Steve's father, however, thought they were cynical. I paused and thought about it because that's not the first word I would use to describe them. Are they cynical? Cynicism has always had a negative connotation in my mind. I think it's more apt to say Communism is cynical rather than those attempting to poke fun at it, which is a very healthy response to the evil that was /is Communism. Perhaps the one positive definition of cynicism is when it's regarding Communism!

To be honest I had hoped for sensational stories of rescue and escape from behind the Iron Curtain, tales of heroism and subversion. But what we got were the pedestrian details of "normal" life lived under government scrutiny and control. It reminded me of that statement about the banality of evil. Evil can be so prosaic that we forget it's evil. The sensational details of arrests, interrogations, deportations, and gulags boil our blood and convict us to do something about the evil, like naming it such.

The Czech people got the last laugh since the Communist museum is squashed between a McDonald's (Go American Imperialism!) and a Casino (Yeah Greedy Capitalism!).

A Tableau of Domesticity

I'm giving you a peek into the domestic life of me and Steve. Adventures abound in this realm as neither of us like to clean (so we invite people over so we're forced to clean) and if we fight it's usually over food (see previous posts). Anyway, this night I call Steve, who acts as my prep chef, while on the road home and tell him to prep the asparagus for roasting. I instruct him to dab the asparagus with butter and sprinkle with salt and pepper (my favorite way of eating asparagus). Now Steve is a great helper but I forget that he doesn't actually cook (except on rare but utterly delightful occasions) and therefore, doesn't understand certain terms like dab, as in place small pieces of butter at varying points across the row. As you can see from the above picture, Steve interpreted dab to mean "butter the asparagus", which for some reason struck me as hilarious. I can see now, in this retelling that the humor may not translate. Say "buttered asparagus" out loud though and I'll bet you giggled...or not. Maybe it really only tickled me. But he did a damn fine job of buttering the asparagus and I heartily ate all of mine.

After dinner Steve read the first pages from a bunch of essays from Air Guitar by Dave Hickey. The first pages are the best because it's all concrete writing. After those introductory pages Hickey delves into the meaning and interpretation of the events he describes at the beginning. Those bits aren't as interesting to me, but maybe they are to his erudite readers, like his wife Libby Lumpkin. What a marvelous name, but I certainly hope she doesn't look like her name sounds. The onomatopoeia of it suggest dumplings, soft and squishy. I guess for BOTH their sakes I hope she's neither. The one exception was his homage essay to deceased friend Grover Lewis, who sounded like just the sort of character you'd want as a life-long friend. But if you wonder what I mean by that you'll have to read the essay yourself.

I'm notoriously bad at remembering band names and song lyrics. In fact I'm not really musically inclined at all (sorry, mom and dad, that you shelled out the bucks for my nine years of piano lessons) especially when it comes to modern music. I'm simply clueless on my own, but Steve keeps me educated and open minded to new music. However, he does have his moments of frustration. I'll ask him over and over again the name of a band I should know (I think I have a tumor) and he patiently tells me over and over after offering me a few clues that I never get. Well, tonight I think I asked one too many times. He just wouldn't tell me, but I kept nagging. He then drops to the floor and starts rolling around. Then comes up and makes the characteristic signs for a charade. Yeah! I love charades! My man plays charades so I can guess the band and now it's fun for both of us. His rolling around on the floor (plus some other not so clear pantomimes that had me guess culvert originally) led me to the correct answer: Catherine Wheel. He wasn't so good out of the gate on the next charade since the miming of shooting a bow/ arrow doesn't lead one to naturally guess Slayer as the band. However, the sword thrusts certainly did.

So folks, that's a not so normal night behind the domestic curtain.

Is Speech not Free in Europe?

I wish this guy had mentioned the case of Oriana Fallaci as well, which is a disgrace and blemish on any democractic country's free speech record but especially for a former facsist state like Italy. He does make a good point about what free speech includes:

Freedom of speech, as its name suggests, does not mean freedom for views
that go down well in polite society but not for views that stink: it means
freedom for all speech, the freedom to think, say and write what we please
and the freedom of everyone else to challenge or ridicule our
arguments.

More politicians, pundits, and media elite should perk their ears to that last sentence. Their ideas have every right to be challenged and ridiculed especially if they're illogical and unintelligent. Unfortunately, many in these catagories only resort to ad hominem attacks when their ideas get challenged. What happened to reasoned and intelligent discussion in which the actual argument or idea was debated? Perhaps I'm naive and that never happened. But then I think about the Lincoln-Douglas debates and they certainly laid out arguments and tore each other's ideas apart or attempted to. Of course ad hominem barbs were thrown in but at least it wasn't the substance of the argument. Of course the deteriorating American attention span is to blame as well. If TV is any indication, American's can only handle 30 second sound bites which doesn't lend itself to reasoned debate, but awfully well to personal attacks. I don't really believe the American mind is that mushy, but our media elites like to believe so because it gives them the excuse they want to push pap.

Christmas Fun

I had a lovely Christmas! There were no intense moments of joy or wonder, but a general feeling of happiness and well-being pervaded my experience. Christmas day my church had a potluck after the service, which turned out to be a brilliant idea. Many people don't have family living in LA or have no place to go this day because everyone else has family to visit; although there were many who brought their families so they didn't have to spend all day in the kitchen preparing a feast. We all feasted together and it was great fun. I think we've started a tradition!

That evening we went to visit my in-laws staying with Steve's sister and during the evening meal I sat between TWO World War II vets. On my left was Ed, 81 years old and wry as ever. He was stationed out of England for about 18 months as a gunner. He'd sit in the nose of the plane and gun down the enemy. I can't imagine having that kind of bird's eye view of all the mayhem happening. He went on 56 missions before the Navy redeployed him back to the U.S. No one from his team was killed in battle (one died from yellow jaundice and another from something else unrelated to fighting). Not only that, but he was part of the Normandy Invasion! I was sitting next to a HERO of WWII who fought on D-Day! To say I was honored was an understatement. I think my jaw dropped every time he shared another story. They just don't make them like that anymore.

To my right was Helen, another octogenarian. She was recruited by the Navy to fix their instrument panels and other related equipment. During this time, she met and worked with Charles Lindbergh. THE Charles Lindbergh of the famous kidnapped and murdered son and the first non-stop flight between New York and Paris. The Lindbergh that helped launch the areonautics industry in America and Helen is talking about him in an offhand way as if he were just her next door neighbor that she borrowed sugar from. A true character that Helen!

Traveling Bits and Pieces

We're baaaaaack from ten glorious albeit frozen days in Berlin and Prague. We needed what this trip provided--a bigger perspective. We'd become so trapped by our petty worries and daily struggles that we'd lost sight of the joy and wonder of life that travel provides. Steve and I made a pact that this trip would NOT be like our honeymoon, which went horribly wrong from the moment we arrived in Paris. No matter what happened we wouldn't stress about it...I have a harder time doing this than Steve. Travel tends to bring out the little dictator in me (just ask Steve). I never get so serious about time as when I'm in a foreign country trying to make sense of public transit systems. Nothing frustrates me more than when I want us to get to the platform to determine that the train is indeed on time to have either my husband or my sister (who is notorious for doing this) say they want to buy water first or go to the bathroom. What if we miss the train?! Egads people, you can pee on the train and you can go an hour without water, but I DO NOT want to wait another interminable stretch of time before getting the next train, bus, or tram. I do fear the unknown in foreign travel. It takes me at least a day or two before I can relax and enjoy the change of scenery and pace. Almost all of my foreign travels begin with me staying awake the first night out worrying about all the travel plans, which is why I always start our travel adventures exhausted.

We did have a fabulous time in both cities even though both Steve and I are horrible tourists. We never visit the proper museums or see the proper sites. We may pay to do a couple of them, but mostly we just walk...a lot. Usually we spend about six to eight hours a day just walking around and exploring the neighborhoods. At the end we feel like we've really experienced the city since we've mirrored the local activity..walking, eating, relaxing at cafes.

The residents of both Berlin and Prague have excellent taste in dogs since everywhere we went I saw West Highland White terriers. Seriously, every day I saw at least one if not two people walking Westies. They go perfectly with winter!

Did you know The Czech Republic (or Czechia as they want to be called) is the number ONE beer drinking country in the world? Ireland is second and Germany is third! They drink beer with breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks, and just for fun. They do have one of the BEST dark beers I've ever tasted: Kozel cerzny. I generally do not like beer. I rarely choose to drink the stuff. But Kozel I could drink every day it's that good. In fact I'm dreaming about it now the smooth, creamy body with no harsh aftertaste....mmmmmmm. And in Prague it was cheap about 55 cents for a large bottle. I'm so obsessed with this beer that I came home and started researching on the web to figure out how to get it. None of our local shops carry it and in fact I don't think it can be bought in the USA! The horror! I found out on google that a shop in San Antonio may have sold it at one time so I'll be calling them to see if they still do sell it and if they can ship it to me. I must have my Kozel! So, if you're in Prague make sure you try this beer or maybe you shouldn't so you won't be disappointed when you can't get it back home.

Some gear tips: I bought the 3-in-1 Squall jacket from Lands End because it was waterproof, warm to -10 degrees (with layers), came with a hood, and was lightweight. I LOVE this jacket. It kept me toasty (and I get cold easily) and dry in the freezing cold, the driving rains and aggressive winds in Prague, and then the blustery snow of Berlin. It was large enough to accommodate all the layers I wore, but not bulky so I didn't look like the kid from The Christmas Story. I highly recommend this jacket for your all purpose winter needs. Besides it was a steal at $79!

The Lonely Planet Guide to Prague was ok. Their history section was pretty good and their guide to restaurants and cafes was also good. However, their language guide sucked eggs. They gave a pronunciation guide to each letter of the alphabet, then they gave the english sentence with the Czech underneath. But they did NOT sound out the words for you. Apparently they thought their pronunciation guide was adequate. It was not. Czech is a very difficult language to speak. I could barely pronounce the word for Thank You after three days and I have an ear for languages. Forget asking for anything else. We took a walking tour our first day and our guide said that children before entering school often get speech therapists to help them with their pronunciation since it's that difficult! And yet, Lonely Planet thought the average tourist could do better than the native children. Thanks for nothing!