dog biscuits for Anubis

Chillax! It's Christmas!

darciecal@yahoo.com — Tue, 22 Dec 2009 16:48:44 GMT

The worst thing about christmas is all the people who think it's awful if you're "alone" on the holiday -- even if you're not christian and it's not your holiday.

What do they think you're missing? Some kind of Norman Rockwell holiday card come to life?

But what if your family is a bunch of miserable, back-stabbing, money-grubbing orcs? Wouldn't you rather be by yourself?

Being by yourself on christmas can be nice. You can sleep late, do as you please, read books while you sip cocoa or hot apple cider. You can chillax.

This year I've agreed to attend Christmas dinner with some Cottey folks, but only because I like them -- a couple of southern Caifornia transplants (mother & daughter) who celebrate with Mexican food. As my bro-in-law was from the Southwest and we always had chili stew or something, Mexican sounds pretty good to me.

I'll bring something, too. Maybe chili stew. :-)

please, please help!

darciecal@yahoo.com — Sat, 05 Dec 2009 18:38:54 GMT

Please help me.

I'm being arrested to raise money for Muscular Dystrophy.

My bail is set at $600. Even $1 donation will help.

Video regarding my arrest: https://www.joinmda.org/MyLockup/MyHomepage/tabid/121711/Participant/dcallahan/Default.aspx

Sugar-Free Pumpkin Mousse

darciecal@yahoo.com — Sat, 03 Oct 2009 17:42:32 GMT

This was easy to make and had a very light taste. Of course, people who want to can substitute the sugary versions of the sugar-free ingredients, or the fat-free versions. I can't tell you how those would taste. This is good.

1 15-oz can of pumpkin
2 small packages instant Vanilla or French Vanilla sugar-free pudding
2 cups half-and-half
1/2 tsp pumpkin pie spice
1 cup sugar-free Cool Whip

Mix everything together except the Cool Whip until well blended. Stir in the Cool Whip. Refrigerate for 4 hours. Serves 8.

I'm thinking of making this for a potluck, and garnishing the top with pumpkin spice flavoured candy corn (although that ruins the sugar-free aspect).

polanski rape

darciecal@yahoo.com — Wed, 30 Sep 2009 19:20:29 GMT

Word of the day: "polanski rape" -- rape that no one takes seriously because the rapist is popular.

Use in a sentence:

"He doesn't have to worry about prosecution because it was a polanski rape."

"Everyone admires him so much he can easily get away with polanski rape."

don't be petty

darciecal@yahoo.com — Fri, 21 Aug 2009 05:06:48 GMT

Do not repay insult with insult. That is petty.

Instead repay insult with injury, and injury with total disassembly.

A much better use of your time..

-- Yuen Xiang Hao

Writer's Block: Thanks for the Input

darciecal@yahoo.com — Tue, 18 Aug 2009 19:56:55 GMT

What is the worst piece of advice you've ever received?

View 513 Answers

From Sister Hyde (of course), telling me my cat didn't need to go to the vet -- he only needed holistic healing.

I didn't listen to her (of course) and took him to the vet. Turns out the cat had spinal cord cancer. She's immorally irresponsible.

In thru the arm

darciecal@yahoo.com — Sun, 16 Aug 2009 05:52:20 GMT

I met the doctor Friday for my cardio catheter stent placement thingie. He seemed nice enough, young, did his undergrad at KU but I guess that's okay. He's having another doctor help him anyway.

I drove about an hour & 1/2 to get to OP. Thinking they might want lab tests, I didn't eat anything. I did take insulin b/c my blood sugar was 323 and I took all my pills on an empty stomach. By the time I got there it was 2:00 and I was pretty loopy.

Dr. Baby (that's close to his real name) made one good suggestion -- that we do the catheter thru my arm rather than my leg (it goes to the heart thru an artery). He says there's a chance it could bleed afterwards, and a person puts much more weight on their leg than they do their arm, which would increase the chance of it bleeding. I thought the arm was good 'cuz I'll have to get up a flight of stairs when I go to Kate's afterwards, and I'll have another long drive home after I rest up which could strain my leg. Then when I'm in Nevada, if it started to bleed, since I live alone I could pass out in a pool of blood with no one to know except the cats (we are talking arterial bleeding here -- whoosh!). Better the arm than the leg. Dr. Baby gave me yet more pills to take before the procedure.

I'm out of diabetic test strips & the pharmacy is closed til Monday. I have a few in my office with the glucometer I keep there. I guess I'll go get them tomorrow. I don't like not being able to test when my blood sugar is soaring high. I'm thinking one of these zillion medications is messing with it.

My procedure is set for Monday, Aug 31. I'll go to Kate's the night before, stay with her some time afterwards.

My weekend with her was great. After Dr. Baby, we went to an Indian restaurant and just DEVOURED the best Indian food I've ever tasted. Then back to her place for "The Quiet American" (Michael Caine version), then sleep b/c we were both exhausted. This morning was a pizza lunch with friends, then she bought me this lovely huge coffee table book set, two volumes, one on the Uffizi Gallery and the other on Pitti Palace, as an early Christmas gift. I saw the Uffizi when I was in Florence but am saving Pitti Palace for next time.

Back to Kate's place for some Saturday Night Live dvds -- old ones. I had fun being a living "70s encyclopedia" as she kept asking me who people on the show were, like "Who's Dick Cavett?" The episodes we watched were from '75 when I was 14, and I evidently did not understand some of the dirtier jokes then, like Chevy Chase talking on the phone before his news broadcast and asking, "Now, who pulls out the beads?" Fun to see them again now. Then I headed ZOOM!!! back to Nevada (good weather, great visibility, little traffic) and here I am.

crap has to go!

darciecal@yahoo.com — Sun, 09 Aug 2009 17:06:27 GMT

Selling my ex-boyfriend's relationship books (and anything else he left in my house). Books, cds, dvds -- most of it's mine, all needs to go, great bahgains, new items added daily: http://shops.half.ebay.com/darciecal_W0QQ

more mom stuff

darciecal@yahoo.com — Wed, 29 Jul 2009 04:51:06 GMT

The neighbor who's been cleaning Mom's place came over yesterday and saw crumbs all over the kitchen counter where Mom had made a sandwich.

"Esther, you need to start cleaning up after yourself!" she said.

"But you clean the kitchen!" replied Mom.

Neighbor is a little ticked, but it proves what I said -- clean it up and she will just let it decline again. Neighbor had thought if they could only get the place up and running again, she would be fine. No dice.

Neighbor's son is doing some work on the place, went in the dirty, spidery crawl space and came out calling, "Mom, mom! Look!" In his hands were rosaries and crucifixes and Virgin Mary icons.

Neighbor looked at the stuff and thought, "OH MY GOD! SHE DIDN'T PUT THOSE GIRLS IN THERE, DID SHE?!!!"

Neighbor called Sister Hyde in a panic to be assured her that no, Mom never locked us in the crawl space -- the stuff was just left over from previous tenants. We thought that they put it there to bless the house so we just left it.

Reminded me of the closet scenes from the movie "Carrie."

the freakin' House of Usher

darciecal@yahoo.com — Sat, 20 Jun 2009 03:03:21 GMT

The house is the House of Usher: doors that can't be opened b/c cement floors have raised, shifting tiles, inch-thick grime, broken toilets, paint peeled and dangling from ceilings, rotting hole-filled drapes that fall apart when touched, rotting dusty clothes from 1970, flood-damaged broken furniture, falling shelves, rusted major appliances, melted small appliances, electrical outlets with warning signs, burned hot plates, wiring crusted with dog urine, hidden guns, doctor's bags with huge needles, knives too large to fit in drawers. Slowly I am convincing the others she canNOT go back there. I'm considering torching the place myself.

And no, this is not the start of a story. It is my mom's house. And yet neighbors tell me she has all her faculties, and ask me if I want them to PAINT the place!

I told them I want it bulldozed. It will likely be sold to HomeVestors, if possible.

Literary Geek Quiz

darciecal@yahoo.com — Wed, 10 Jun 2009 23:15:32 GMT

1) What author do you own the most books by?

Harlan Ellison. I think I have all of his fiction, although most of it is in paperback.

2) What book do you own the most copies of?

I generally only keep one copy of each book, giving extras away. I do have more than one translation of Baudelaire's Les Fleurs du Mal, Dante's Divina Commedia, and Boccaccio's Decameron. I have two of Ellison's Paingod because one is a first edition (paperback). I think I own Ellison's Love Ain't Nothing But Sex Misspelled in both hardcover & paperback.

3) Did it bother you that both those questions ended with prepositions?

No. I think that's a stupid rule.

4) What fictional character are you secretly in love with?

Gallinger, in Roger Zelazny's "A Rose for Ecclesiastes". Complete short story here: https://www.msu.edu/user/carterca/rose.htm

5) What book have you read the most times in your life?

My adult life? Hard to say. Possibly Deathbird Stories. As a child, Classical Myths That Live Today by Francis Sabin.

6) What was your favorite book when you were ten years old?

Christophe in Egypt: The Odyssey of Pharoah's Cat by Inge Fischer.

7) What is the worst book you've read in the past year?

If it's bad I don't finish it. Life is too short.

8) What is the best book you've read in the past year?

An Italian Affair by Laura Fraser. A bad title for a good book..

9) If you could force everyone you tagged to read one book, what would it be?

The Wooden Sea by Jonathan Carroll. I can't imagine anyone not enjoying it..

10) Who deserves to win the next Nobel Prize for literature?

Jonathan Carroll, for the humanity in his writing.

11) What book would you most like to see made into a movie?

Ceremony by Leslie Marmon Silko. Needs to be done.

12) What book would you least like to see made into a movie?

Most of the ones I can think of they already did.

13) Describe your weirdest dream involving a writer, book, or literary character.

I don't think I've ever had one.

14) What is the most lowbrow book you've read as an adult?

Harlequin Romances with wacky titles, like In Bed With Her Italian Boss by Kate Hardy.

15) What is the most difficult book you've ever read?

Took a crack at Joyce's Finnegan's Wake when I was in high school.

16) What is the most obscure Shakespeare play you've seen?

A Comedy of Errors, done in Chicago with the characters dressed up as silent movie stars such as Harold Lloyd & Charlie Chaplin. It was awesome.

17) Do you prefer the French or the Russians?

The French. The climate is warmer. Oh you mean writing? The French, although I've probably read more Russian.

18) Roth or Updike?

David Lee Roth in his younger days, when he was muscular rather than gaunt and his bad boy attitude could be seen as cocky rather than pathetic. Oh wait, we're talking books here. Maybe Updike.

19) David Sedaris or Dave Eggers?

Sedaris.

20) Shakespeare, Milton, or Chaucer?

Tough choice. Shakespeare wins over Chaucer by sheer volume of work.

21) Austen or Eliot?

Which Eliot, George or T.S.? Give me T.S.

22) What is the biggest or most embarrassing gap in your reading?

Probably a lot of books that "everybody" was supposed to read in high school, like The Red Badge of Courage or House of Seven Gables.

23) What is your favorite novel?

Lavondyss by Robert Holdstock. Competition includes Ceremony by Leslie Marmon Silko and a couple of works by Jonathan Carroll

24) Play?

Les Femmes Savantes by Molière. For musicals, it would have to be Camelot.

25) Poem?

Une Martyre by Baudelaire has a soft spot in my heart.

26) Essay?

Ain't I a Woman? by Sojourner Truth.

28) Work of non-fiction?

An Italian Affair by Laura Fraser.

29) Who is your favorite writer?

Perhaps Leslie Marmon Silko, with competition from Robert Holdstock, Jonathan Carroll, Harlan Ellison, Martin Cruz Smith for his Arkady Renko series. I'm excluding anyone who's only written one book.

30) Who is the most overrated writer alive today?

Dan Brown

31) What is your desert island book?

Complete works of Shakespeare

32) And ... what are you reading right now?

Fiction: Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert - not as good as Laura Fraser's An Italian Affair. Non-fiction: Devils in Art: Florence from the Middle Ages to the Renaissance by Lorenzo Lorenzi

Help! Washer & dryer knowledge?

darciecal@yahoo.com — Thu, 07 May 2009 19:39:06 GMT

A very nice friend gave me a free washer & dryer that I had delivered last night, but the guys who brought it couldn't hook it up because they said there was nowhere to vent the dryer.

I think I could buy this product from HomeTrends.com: http://www.shophometrends.com/product.asp_Q_pn_E_016124 for indoor venting. However, it says not to use with a gas dryer. I've never had a washer or dryer before so I don't know anything about them. Does that big outlet that it plugs into mean it's a gas dryer? They wouldn't hook up the washer either, said they'd just end up having to move it again to hook up the dryer. I'm not sure if these guys will come back to help me or if I'll have to find someone else. Any help anyone can give in determining if this is a gas dryer or not would be appreciated.

Italia by the View

darciecal@yahoo.com — Tue, 05 May 2009 21:36:32 GMT

Life can be seen as a series of views. Scattered pictures, if you will, slides, or short film strips. My trip to Italy was no exception. There are a number of views that have stayed with me.

My other writings have covered sights and scenes familiar to many (Trevi fountain, the Uffizi Gallery), but my background as an anthropologist makes me interested in everyday life. I’m just as interested in everyday life, from the small cars and Vespas stopping abruptly when I stepped off a curb to the porcini mushrooms and sardine-wrapped olives sold in the farmer’s market to how different the Tuscan countryside looks compared to Kansas. Here are some views that are unique or were uniquely mine.

This is the view from my very first hotel room, the Hotel Mediterraneo in Florence. We (my roommate and I) were excited to see a dome in the distance, and mountains. It wasn’t the greatest view, but it was our view, and we looked out this window every morning and several times throughout the day. One big difference with American hotels: no screens! We were on the sixth floor. The glass of the window would open and close, but their was nothing to keep us from dropping something out, or even falling out ourselves.

The second hotel we visited was the Hotel Olympic in Rome. The tall buildings with multiple windows remind me of living my twenties in Boston. Tall city buildings make me feel happy and young and free, as if the wonder and excitement of life was still stretching all out before me. I have the same experience seeing them that some people feel viewing forests or mountains or beaches. At the same time, I feel nostalgic for a youth I will never see again. It’s funny; when I left Boston, I was seeking that same sense of wide-open adventure in a new beginning. Now I was feeling it again here in Rome. The white building to the right where the letters “famar” can be seen was a large mercato, the Mercato Rionale, a farmer’s market with deli counters, where I often bought a panini for lunch. The sun dried tomatoes the deli woman put on my prosciutto and mozzarella sandwiches were huge and soft, not like the tiny dried-up things sold here. Everything was of amazing quality, and incredibly delicious.

Other than our hotel room views, one that will stay with me is the first thing I saw after leaving the Rome airport: the beautiful Tuscan countryside as seen from our bus windows. As soon as we arrived in Rome, we boarded a tour bus for Florence. For three hours (when they told me I was supposed to sleep!) I sat near the front of the bus, drinking in the lovely, multi-hued Tuscan countryside.

My final view, that I will never forget, is Rome at night, with all the monuments and statues and fountains lit up by brilliant lights. Rent Fellini’s Roma and watch it to the end (skip the brothel scenes if they offend you). The final scene is a motorcycle drive through Rome after dark. While I was always either on a tour bus or on foot, I loved going anywhere in Rome past sundown. Beautiful by day, Rome is magical by night.

Writer's Block: You Don't Know Me

darciecal@yahoo.com — Sun, 03 May 2009 19:00:24 GMT

Our friends don't always know us as well as they think, particularly when it comes to likes and dislikes. Which popular book, movie, band, food, TV show, etc. would your friends be surprised to hear that you don't like?

View 500 Answers

Steel Magnolias.

This woman was told not to get pregant for health reasons. Rather than try to adopt a needy child, she selfishly gets pregnant anyway. She dies, leaving her loved ones in grief. Does anyone not see the cause and effect here?

Like Water for Chocolate

Instead of running away with the woman he loves, this guy marries HER SISTER so he can be close to her. Does anyone not see what's wrong with that? EWWWWW!

We Were the Mulvaneys

This guy can't look at his daughter b/c she was raped. So she is banished from the family. When he dies, she's allowed back. What is wrong with these sick people?

The Story of Latin America

darciecal@yahoo.com — Sun, 03 May 2009 04:29:40 GMT

Latina Student: Doing anything fun this weekend?

Me: I'm showing a movie called City of God.

Latina Student: What's it about?

Me: It's set in Brasil. Extreme violence and poverty, as seen through the eyes of an artist. True story.

Latina Student: That's the story of Latin America.

the biggest mess, the greatest day

darciecal@yahoo.com — Sat, 25 Apr 2009 23:00:33 GMT

I made crepes today, for the very first time, in my very own crepe pan. They were much easier to make than I'd anticipated (crepe mix) and they were almost as delicious as the crepe I had in Rome.

It also made me think of my mother. No, not in any idyllic, "fond memory" way. Quite the opposite, in fact.

When I was 14 and Sister Hyde was 21, she found a restaurant called The Magic Pan. It was in a mall that was a bit of a distance from our house, but still, every so often she was able to take me there. We both enjoyed the crepe dishes at The Magic Pan and my smother knew it. So one day Smother came home from the store with a crepe pan. She brandished it in the air before us: "Look! I bought a crepe pan!"

For a minute we were happy; we'd taken the bait. "Oh, great!" we said, "We can make crepes at home now!"

"Oh, NO!" stated Smother. "You can't make any crepes."

"But you bought a crepe pan," we said, once again trying the logic that never worked.

"Oh, no," she insisted. I think, if I remember correctly, her excuse was that it was too messy. Everything was either too messy, too loud, too early, too late, too big, too small, or just too much. There was always a "too" reason why we couldn't do anything.

Like the Ice Capades --

When Sister Hyde was little, she wanted more than anything to go to the Ice Capades. It was a Chicago kid thing, and all her friends got taken there by their parents. My sister begged and begged to go, but no, according to Smother, it was too expensive.

So one day there was a contest you could enter to win tickets to the Ice Capades. Sister Hyde entered it, prayed and prayed and prayed each night. She knew winning that contest was the only way possible she could ever get to the Ice Capades, and -- she WON! She actually won the freakin' contest to go to the Ice Capades!

The tickets came in the mail and she took them to Smother. The tickets were FREE -- not too expensive anymore! Surely now she would be allowed to go!

"Oh, NO!" stated Smother. "You can't use these tickets to go to the Ice Capades."

"Why not?" cried Sister Hyde, knowing that there really was no hope.

"Because," said Smother,"If they're giving these tickets away, they can't be any good. They have to be behind a post."

"They're not behind a post!" wailed Sister Hyde, "I prayed, and I won!". She cried for hours, but it didn't matter. Even with the free tickets, she was not allowed to go to the Ice Capades.

Well, Sister Hyde grew up and had my niece. She took my niece to the Ice Capades every single damn year. The tickets were never too expensive, and they never, ever got stuck sitting behind a post.

I did make a mess while making my crepes today. It's still there in the kitchen. In fact, I enjoy looking at that mess every time I walk in there. Smother's crepe pan was never used, but mine is sitting on the stove right now, part of the big mess. At some point I'll clean it up, but I'm enjoying writing and drinking my coffee right now.

It is a big mess, a bit bigger than it needed to be. But it's still not as big a mess as Smother.

Cursed by a Gypsy!

darciecal@yahoo.com — Sat, 18 Apr 2009 07:55:41 GMT

The third day of our trip to Italy was reserved for the Uffizi Gallery in Florence (Firenze). The Uffizi is a large, U-shaped (U for Uffizi?) museum. At one end, you can see the Palazzo Vecchio’s characteristic tower:

At the other end, the connecting curve of the U, you see an exit to the Arno River and its bridges. The building you see through the exit is across the Arno:

I planned to ride the bus to the Uffizi, along with a professor who had pulled a hamstring. He offered to arrange the tickets. Shortly before we departed, he told me he wasn’t going after all, and handed me two tickets, one to ride there and one to ride back. I was going on the bus alone! Being a visually-oriented person, I brushed away his patter of “go here, go there, cross this street…” and asked him to simply X on the map the location of the bus stop.

I left the Hotel Mediterraneo and crossed the nearest bridge. I cut diagonally across a small park. I found my bus, bus “D”. I stepped on, holding my ticket and grabbed one of the poles. The bus took off, down the street along the Arno River. When I looked up the street name later, I saw it said “Lungarno this, Lungarno that” all along the street. When I checked the word, I saw Lungarno means “on the banks of the Arno.” When we came to the Ponte Vecchio (Old Bridge) I got off and crossed the river to the Uffizi.

I had arrived a bit earlier than the Cottey group, so I stood waiting near the entrance. “Miss Callahan! Miss Callahan!” Two students to whom I’d given permission to leave early to find an ATM had arrived ahead of the group as well. We all three stood together on the steps, waiting for the rest of the group.

A little further down from us were the living statues. These are actors dressed as statues. They stand in front of a small box or sack. Throw a coin in the sack, and they will move – slowly, as if like statues come to life. One statue had grabbed a woman’s hand. He was holding it up to his cheek and petting it. She seemed enthralled.

We saw many living statues in Italy. Some were white like marble, others dark like bronze. I saw King Tut’s mummy and later in Rome, the Statue of Liberty, although she was a bit shorter than I remembered.

As I waited to enter the Uffizi, a woman who appeared to be a gypsy approached us, all scrunched over and wearing a shawl. She was going on in Italian, but I could sort of understand her. “Mangiare” I heard, to eat. “Bambini” was children, of course. She was begging for money to feed her children. I might have given her a euro or two, but I had none in my pocket and I didn’t want her to see where I kept my money, so I waved her away. Suddenly her tone changed. I had no idea what she was saying, but I could tell she was cussing me out!

Whether she had any bambini or not, I don’t know, but I do know she had a good racket. Groups of people were lined up outside the Uffizi, waiting for their group number to be called. As she moved from one person to the next, she collected euro after euro after euro from these sitting ducks.

“Wow,” I said to my students, “I’ve been cursed by a gypsy!” As I thought about it, I started to chuckle – what could she possibly do to me? I had diabetes, high blood pressure, and a shortness of breath that would turn out to be an enlarged heart. My boyfriend was missing, my student loan deferment was running out, and when I got back to the States, I didn’t know how I would pay my taxes or even my bills. Yet somehow I’d made it here, and here I was, with the audacity to stand in the sunshine outside the Uffizi Gallery in Florence, about to spend a few hours enjoying the finest collection of Renaissance art in the world. The more she cursed, the more I laughed, and that only made her curse more. I thought about calling her a strega (witch), or telling her that I was one, quoting Stephen King’s Thinner (“I put on you the curse of The White Man From Town!”) or even thanking her for giving me a story I could relate to friends later, but finally our group’s number was called and I just went in the Uffizi. I spent several hours looking at Botticelli paintings, incredible painted ceilings, and small Italian women with curly shoulder-length hair, white smocks peeled back to show heavy dark clothing underneath. They were art restorers, working on open-air restoration projects. I walked through the halls, sat some on the benches to better study the ceiling, and bought souvenirs in the gift shop on the way out.

When I left the Uffizi, I saw the gypsy, her pockets heavy now with many euros, and she started up again with the cursing. I gave her a big, warm smile, as if her curse would only bring me good luck. The weather was beautiful and my knee felt okay, so I skipped the bus and walked back along the Arno River until I reached the hotel. Then I took a shower, changed, and had the best pizza of my life for dinner.

Writer's Block: Theme Song

darciecal@yahoo.com — Thu, 16 Apr 2009 14:45:33 GMT

What song would you choose as the theme song for your life?

View 503 Answers

I considered this one: I get knocked down, but I get up again, and they're never going to keep me down....

I actually do not own that cd, but the lyrics fit with my nickname, Tenacious D,

Maybe Elton John's I'm Still Standing...I'm still standing after all this time.

Or Kate Bush's Song of Solomon: Don't want your bullshit -- just want your sexuality....

But Lord, do people want to heap the bullshit on, yes they do.

Vecchio

darciecal@yahoo.com — Thu, 16 Apr 2009 02:40:42 GMT

Ponte Vecchio (Old Bridge)

Palazzo Vecchio (Old Palace)

Signora Vecchia (Old Maid):

Get Your Hands Off My #%!!*! MONEY!

darciecal@yahoo.com — Tue, 14 Apr 2009 15:12:23 GMT

As some of you know, I've been ripped off quite a bit financially. In an effort to prevent that happening in the future, I posted the folloing in my profile on a dating site:

I've lived my life being generous to a fault and am now trying really, really hard to stop doing that so I don't go bankrupt. I work in education and make less than a teacher. If you're looking for a sugar mama, keep in mind there's no gravy train to ride here.

I thought that was clear enough. Then I meet a guy on the site, and we have the following conversation:

Guy : sorry i got disconnected

Me : Happens to me, often

Guy : this pc at times could piss you off
Me: I bet it could. I need to replace my computer.

Guy : do you have a cam?

Me : a digital camera

Guy : nope i mean a webcam. to see you live as we chat

Me: no -- can you see my photo?

Guy : yes. but can you get a cam?

Guy : it doesnt cost much $20

WTF!?!

So now I've added the following:

So, PLEASE, do not waste our time asking me to loan you money, invest in an exciting opportunity, attend your mother's or sister's Amway or MaryKay "party", buy any fundraising items from children I have not met in person, or part with my hard-earned money to purchase a webcam for "only" $20. It's not going to happen.

Hopefully that's now clear enough.

Sigh.

The Things I Carried

darciecal@yahoo.com — Sat, 28 Mar 2009 04:29:33 GMT

Before I went to Italy, I made a number of preparations. These are the things that came along with me that proved very useful:

The Battle Purse: This bag converted from a shoulder bag to a sling bag to a small back pack. It served as my decoy as I kept all my valuables in a neck pouch that went down the front of my shirt and was held in place by my bra. The battle purse also sometimes held my medications and other things like pens, purchases,and the occasional water bottle:

The Crunchable Duster: This lightweight, inexpensive, faux-suede polyester coat by European designer Ulla Popken resisted water, stains and wrinkles. It went everywhere easily and often got bunched up to use as a pillow. I got the one in Loden:

The Foldable Cane: My Tai Chi instructor recommended this one. I did okay in Florence, but by the time we hit Rome, the amount of walking and in particular, walking on stone had everyone's legs aching. I found this cane helped me mostly on any stairs without a handrail, and in particular, stepping up and down curbs. Plus it folded up and fit in the suitcase, flight bag, and even the Battle Purse.

FOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!

darciecal@yahoo.com — Sat, 28 Mar 2009 03:13:31 GMT

I loved the cosmopolitan nature of Rome. In conversation in Florence, a Japanese professor found out I love Japanese food. So he said we should go for sushi in Rome -- he would find a good place. So we did! My roomie came along:

My roommate found a place to have English High Tea in Rome! Babington's, next to the Spanish Stairs. I had the best crepe ever in my life, and the maple syrup was real stuff, from Canada. The Italian woman who owned the place had lived in Canada:

Also in Rome, I liked to go to the mercato and get a sandwich made by a woman at a deli counter: panini, salami or prosciutto, mozzarella, tomato. Fresh veggies were sold there, too. You're not supposed to handle the veggies -- it's considered unsanitary:

In Florence I had loved the pizza. It was much like the thin crust at Wheat State Pizza. It was not at all like Pizza Hut, Domino's or the like. I enjoyed it with acqua frizzante -- sparkling water. These pizzas have mushrooms, but my favorite Pizza Napoli had big Capote capers and fine anchovies. Note that the pizza is NOT drowned in cheese. Although I always thought I loved the cheese best, I liked it this way where you could taste all the ingredients better.:

But my favorite thing to consume in Florence was the wine Vin Santo. People thought it tasted either like a sweet port or cognac. We dipped almond biscotti into it, and it was incredible. :

darciecal@yahoo.com — Thu, 26 Mar 2009 03:08:38 GMT

When the lovely florilegia visited last weekend, she noted that I had far too much chocolate in my fridge for a diabetic!

So I ate it.

No chocolate ... no problem!

Italia: Italian men, Cottey women

darciecal@yahoo.com — Tue, 17 Mar 2009 23:05:23 GMT

“Italian men, unlike American men, like to flirt even when there’s no chance of any tangible outcome. They just like to let you know, in restaurants and on the street, that they appreciate women, all kinds of women, that in fact they like women better than anything else in the world, and thank God He made creatures like you …The Decameron is what Italians read in school instead of The Scarlet Letter. No wonder they’re better at flirting.” – Laura Fraser, An Italian Affair

The expression on this man’s face in the photo is the look I saw on the face of every man in Florence: direct eyes, big smile, mild amusement. It didn’t matter if he was an English-speaking waiter, a scampering porter scolding me for trying to carry my own luggage, or just a man on the street. Everyone responded so well to my friendly “Buon giorno!” or “Buona sera!” that I was never afraid to ask anyone a question. One time, when I’d gotten separated from the pack, I found myself on a narrow sidewalk, waiting to cross a very busy street. A man on a bicycle was riding towards me. I looked around, but the only place I could go to get out of his way would have been to step out into the path of the cars. He saw my concern, and waved at me to stay exactly where I was standing. Then he gracefully slipped off the bike, and walked it around me. As he passed, smiling, I said, “Oh, grazie!” in a happy voice, pronouncing it correctly with the little “uh” on the end as our guide had told us. “Grazie, buon giorno!” he replied, his grin widening. “Buon giorno!” I called after him. He hopped effortlessly back on the bike, and pedaled away.

Of course, a graying old signora like me (48! How the hell ever did I get to be 48?) was not as mesmerizing to the local men as the collection of Cottey signorinas present. We forget at Cottey that we’re an all women’s school. The people you see every day are people you know, or have at least seen before. Add the smattering of male professors and staff, and the gender imbalance just seems normal after awhile. But to the men of Italy – I heard a student quoting one: “Wow, there’s a lot of chicks in town! What’s going on?” It is said that a world without men would be filled with fat, happy women. Not all Cottey students are fat – they range in size from petite through average to lanky or jumbo – but they are certainly relaxed, confident, happy and noisy when together in a group. At times the cacarraceo is deafening – I wondered if “Miss Callahan” should pop her head out in the hallway and frown disapprovingly when I heard some girlish voices screaming: “Ciaooooooo! Ciaoooooooo! CIAOOOOOOOOOOOO!” But they were laughing and giggling and having silly, youthful fun, causing Miss Callahan to remember a time when she behaved similarly on her first trip to Europe. So she stayed put and kept writing out her postcards, letting them have their moment in the Tuscan sun.

The Bachelor proves that men are neanderthals.

darciecal@yahoo.com — Tue, 03 Mar 2009 20:49:20 GMT

Okay, now that I got your attention (feeling that adrenaline kick in, that fight or flight response?), let me point out that EVERYONE is a neanderthal in the sense that we are all products of millions of years of evolution. Our tabula rasa brains are actually wired constructions with many shared features, such as a fear of small creepy things and preference for savannah landscape scenery. I was just reading the other day how looking out a window at nature improves brain performance.

On The Bachelor last night, we got to see the end result of two women throwing themselves at a man. He had to choose. Both women told him they loved him while he hadn't said it to either of them.

So he chose. But within 6 weeks he decided he wanted the other girl, and so re-chose, dumping his new finacee in favor of chasing the other girl even though he didn't know if she had moved on or not.

Lots of people went ape shit about it.

Yet this all made perfect sense to me.

Evolutionary psychology suggests a "neanderthal" understanding of courting behavior ("neanderthal" used in the popular sense). Men want to pursue women, overcome difficulties, and win them. When a woman attempts to pursue a man, it just doesn't work because men are not wired that way. Oh sure, men will sleep with women who throw themselves at them -- but the whole marriage, long term, serious devoted thing? That's something different. The Bachelor faced a difficult choice because the women involved were so similar: both throwing themselves at him shouting, "I love you! I love you!" In other words, both were NO CHALLENGE. So he thought long and hard and finally chose one.

But then a curious thing happened. The minute he chose and put his choice into action -- the girl he DIDN'T choose became much more difficult to obtain. She left the arena and suddenly he didn't know if she still loved him or not.

Then it became a choice between the rejected girl (possibly unattainable, only through difficulty could be won back) and the one he initially chose, who became more than ever NO CHALLENGE.

So he couldn't stop thinking about the bird with the bush. And he re-chose. Maybe, since this presented some measure of difficulty, he will be happy with her, and value her as someone precious almost lost to him.

What amazes me is so many people are just down on the guy, as if they don't understand how this all works.

Let me just end by saying that as a brilliant anthropologist with a keen understanding of human nature, I am EXTREMELY DIFFICULT to obtain, but more than worth the effort. Heh!