Not Cut Out for the High Life

I got back from my trip to Miami yesterday (don't get too excited, it was just a business trip). The meetings were good, the hotel was better than average, and for the most part the catered food was pretty good. It occurred to me while I was down there that I would never really do well in fancy social circles if for no other reason than I would starve to death. I'm sure there are other reasons, but this is the only one I need.

The lunch for day one was pretty straight forward. Some steamed veggies, salad, meat, even little fruit tarts for dessert... stuff I could pronounce and actually recognized. The cocktail reception that night was pretty good too. They had mini-hamburgers, ham, turkey with gravy and dressing. This is stuff I could live on quite easily. I stayed clear of the cheese platter because I didn't see anything that even remotely resembled marble or mozzarella, and that's about as adventurous as I get with cheese.

Enter day two lunch. This one was more formal (food came to us instead of us going through the buffet line). Imagine sitting down at a table and being greeted by this:

I wasn't sure what this was, but there wasn't anything on the plate I was about to eat. Apparently, the brown slimy speckled thingy being pinned to the fancy bread (with crunchies in it) by the olive-garnished wooden stake was a mushroom. Mmmm... fungus, my favorite. It reminded me of an alien life form from Star Trek. And the green stuff smeared on the plate, what's with that?? It looked like something pooped on my plate. I could crawl across a barren desert, be within inches of death and that still don't think I could find the desire to eat it. Why do they call it an appetizer if it makes you want to hurl breakfast? Seems counter-productive to me...

The main course was two little pieces of dry chicken and some veggies on the side and a swirl of mashed something-or-other. It's a good thing they had mini garlic bread on the table...

The cocktail reception that night had some good stuff, but you had to look hard for it.

This stuff was labeled and I still didn't have a clue what it was. Turns out I don't need to know what it is to know I don't want to touch it. "Spoon Bloody Mary Ceviche with Baby Rock Shrimp". I can figure out the spoon and shrimp part, but not too sure what makes it a Bloody Mary. And what the heck is Ceviche anyway?

"Rare Sesame Seared Tuna with Wasabi Mayonnaise". I don't like cooked tuna, so advertising it as rare does absolutely nothing for me. I don't even do my steaks rare. As Grandpa Wynder used to say, "I've seen cows hurt worse that lived." And isn't 'wasabi' the Japanese word for "kill me now because it's burning a hole through my cheek"? I have a freakishly low tolerance for hot spices, so this is definitely off the menu for me. I think that's nature's way of compensating for my immunity to "freezer brain" when eating ice cream. And honestly, if I had to choose between being able to eat hot spices or ice cream, you'll find me curled up with my 2.5 gallon tub of Tiger and a spoon.

I also noticed there is an inverse correlation between the "fancy level" of a restaurant and the portion size of the food. For clarification, fast-food restaurants are excempt from this observation, I'm talking about places which bring the food to you. A good restaurant will give you healthy portions, but an up-scale restaurant brings out servings that could starve a hamster. I can't figure out why people pay so much for so little food.

I guess I just wasn't built for "high society", which is just fine with me. I'm of the opinion that culinary evolution reached its pinacle with steak and potatoes. That's fine dining in my book.

Should I Call You?

Ever since the airline bomb scare a few weeks ago, everyone has been talking about all the increased airport security. I went to the Calgary airport yesterday at 6:00AM so I could be there in time for my 8:00 flight. I stood in line to check in my baggage at the front counter, and when it was finally my turn I found out I'd been standing in the wrong line. This was the line for direct-to-USA flights. That counter over there was the one for connecting flights, such as mine. Yah, that one with absolutely no line whatsoever. That would be the one.

I have to say Canadian security was business as usual, and I inadvertently discovered that my Bluetooth earpiece can go through the scanner with me without setting off the alarm. 6:35 AM, great... now I only have an hour to kill before boarding. Weehee.

Fast-forward a few hours and I'm in Toronto picking up my luggage at the US-connections gate. Went through customs and then off to the security screening. I was a little nervous when I saw the full-body imaging machine, but it wasn't being used so I relaxed (they may have still been installing it, judging by the way it was all blocked off). Took off my shoes and took the laptop out of the bag, and US security wasn't any worse than Canadian security. They did run the little swab-thingy on my laptop, but they've done that on the Canadian side too. All the hype must've been for nothing.

I still have about 20 minutes before boarding, so I make my way down to the wing where my departure gate is. Then I saw this:

Two words which bring joy and laughter to air travelers everywhere...

Oh good, this should be fun... and look, my turn already. I made my way over to the table and had to take my laptop out and turn it on again while a security agent went through the contents of my laptop bag. I think she was impressed by the Star Wars cover on my DS and the blue lightsaber stylus. That's cool no matter where you live...

Meanwhile, her partner was putting on a fresh pair of rubber gloves. The blue ones, that's nice. I hear they don't rub as bad as the white ones do. Fortunately for me it's just a pat-down. As he spends a little too much time at second base, two thoughts go through my mind. First, I REALLY need to do more push-ups because I seem to be getting a little soft in the upper chest. And second, the reason they're not using the imaging scanner back there is because go-go Gadget Hands here enjoys his job far too much. I don't know much about dating in the East Indian culture, but here in the west there's usually a dinner involved before moving on to this much fondling. I understand the need for security, but could you at least not smile so much while you're frisking me?

When he was done and she gave me the go-ahead to put my laptop away, I really wanted to say something smart, but decided against it. I complain sometimes about my social filter getting in the way, but this time I'm pretty sure it saved me from the "private screening" room. Besides, he probably hasn't seen Fletch and would've missed references about Dr. Jellyfingers or Moon River. I, on the other hand, found it a little humorous.

I really wanted to ask if I should bring anything when I come through again on Monday... Maybe a Barry White CD? Flowers?

You Have GOT to be Kidding Me!

I saw something today on my lunch break that reaffirmed my dislike of small dogs (not that it really needed any more support). I had to pick up some supplies at WalMart and they had this little gem on the end caps near the check-outs...

Seriously?!? A Snuggie for pets?!? I'm going to let all you "pet parents" in on a little secret. Gather 'round, because this could change your life. Are you ready? Pen and paper in hand? Your little precious...

...IS COVERED WITH HAIR!!!

And do you know why Toto looks like a hairball with feet? No, it's not to bring out the color in his eyes. It's to keep the little waste of space warm.

I like how the box mentions that the snuggie "keeps you warm and your paws free!" Isn't that sweet... Here's a little gem for the folks in marketing. Sure, Lassie might be a genius at telling someone little Timmy got caught in the wood chipper, but that doesn't mean he's going to be reading the box any time soon. And why is it so important to have his paws free anyway? "If only I could get my paws out of this blanket, then I could use the remote and change the channel." For anyone who walked past and thought this would be something nice for your dog, I'm going out on a limb to say you also give presents to your dog for Christmas and birthdays, don't you. Come on, admit it... you even wrapped them.

I'm sorry, but if the little hairball needs a snuggie to keep it warm, you should probably take it to the vet and have it put down now. Trust me, you'll be doing it a favor. Imagine dressing up your little boy and sending him to school wearing a pink tutu. I'm pretty sure this is the equivalent for dogs. All the other dogs are making fun of your little mutt in the snuggie. Notice the dog in the corner inset with the "shoot me now" look... I don't know if you've seen those "I'd rather go naked than wear fur" ads, but they make me wonder what these dogs would rather be doing than wearing "the blanket coat with sleeves".

For hundreds of years, dogs have somehow managed to keep themselves warm without human intervention. Now people have pets instead of children and figure the little pooch needs a sweater or a blanket with sleeves in order to stay cozy. At the risk of sounding cold, let natural selection take its course. If your little puddle maker can't survive without wearing a snuggie, maybe that's nature's way of improving the gene pool.

Death of the Christmas Spirit?

I stumbled upon a facebook group about how Christmas this year didn't feel like Christmas. Curiosity got the better of me, so I checked it out (didn't join though). The messages posted on the group wall and the discussion board had a few variations (too much media coverage of trivial issues, got school grades back, got dumped by boyfriend/girlfriend, no Christmas tree, no snow), but by far, most of the reasons posted revolved around getting smaller/fewer presents.

In a group of 52,187 members, I found only one post that wasn't self-centered. One young woman (bless her heart) posted that it didn't feel like Christmas to her because her family was too busy to do "secret Santa" activities for other people. To the 52,186 other people in the group I say, "suck it up buttercup!" Get over yourselves! I've got news for you, your Christmas is always going to suck if you're worried about the size, shape, and quantity of the presents under the tree with your name on them.

So many people compare adult Christmas to childhood Christmas and come out depressed. I saw one comment from someone complaining about how easy it was to go to sleep on Christmas Eve. You poor thing, I guess we all have our burdens to bear. I'm sorry, but the anticipation isn't the magic of Christmas. It's the magic of presents. Happens at birthdays too, there isn't anything inherently special about it.

So, where is the magic then? It is carefully and masterfully hidden in our actions for others. Some of the most memorable Christmases for me are the ones where I really had to work to do something for someone else. Whether it was saving up my money as a kid to buy a plush seal “stuffy” for my sister, or spending hours trying to draw or make something special, I remember the giving far more than anything I received.

To put it another way, Christmas seems to be the only birthday celebration where all the guests expect to receive presents and give nothing to the one having the birthday. If you really want to experience the magic and spirit of Christmas, then find something to do for someone else. You will find that the effort invested on your part is proportional to the “magic” you feel in return.

In short, if you’re waiting for the Christmas magic to happen, then get used to disappointment. If it needs to snow before it feels like Christmas for you, then move north. When you get there and are freezing in a snow drift, you’ll realize there is no Christmas spirit in the snow. You’re the only one who can make you feel the Christmas spirit, so stop blaming it on everyone else. Chances are, you’re not looking in the right place anyway.

So next year, instead of creating a “Christmas 2010 didn’t feel like Christmas” group on facebook, maybe you could take the time to do something for someone around you. Otherwise, settle in for a long string of disappointing Christmases because your tree will never be perfect, you’ll never get the “right” (or enough) gifts, it won’t always snow, and the economy could always be worse.

Cool Christmas Story

I found this story while I was on my mission in Pittsburgh (more years ago that I care to admit):

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For years now whenever Christmas pageants are talked about in a certain little town in the Midwest, someone is sure to mention the name of Wallace Purling. Wally's performance in one annual production of the Nativity Play has slipped into the realm of legend. But the old timers who were in the audience that night never tire of recalling exactly what happened.

Wally was nine that year and in the second grade, though he should have been in the fourth. Most people in the town knew that he had difficulty in keeping up. He was big and clumsy, slow in movement and mind. Still, Wally was liked by the other children in his class, all of whom were smaller than he, though the boys had trouble hiding their irritation when Wally would ask to play ball with them or any game, for that matter, in which winning was important.

Most often they'd find a way to keep him out, but Wally would hang around anyway - not sulking, just hoping. He was always a helpful boy, a willing and smiling one, and the natural protector, paradoxically, of the underdog. Sometimes if the older boys chased the younger ones away, it would always be Wally who'd say, "Can't they stay? They're no bother."

Wally fancied the idea of being a shepherd with a flute in the Christmas pageant that year, but the play's director, Miss Lambard, assigned him to a more important role. After all, she reasoned, the Innkeeper did not have too many lines, and Wally's size would make his refusal of lodging to Joseph more forceful.

And so it happened that the usual large, partisan audience gathered for the town's yearly extravaganza of crooks and creches, of beards, crowns, halos and a whole stageful of squeaky voices. No one on stage or off was more caught up in the magic of the night than Wallace Purling. They said later that he stood in the wings and watched the performance with such fascination that from time to time Miss Lambard had to make sure he did not wander onstage before his cue.

Then came the time when Joseph appeared, slowly, tenderly guiding Mary to the door of the inn. Joseph knocked hard on the wooden door set into the painted backdrop. Wally the Innkeeper was there, waiting.

"What do you want?" Wally said, swinging the door open with a brusque gesture.

"We seek lodging."

"Seek it elsewhere." Wally looked straight ahead, but spoke vigorously. "The inn is filled."

"Sir we have asked everywhere in vain. We have traveled far and we are very weary."

"There is no room in this inn for you." Wally looked properly stern.

"Please good innkeeper, this is my wife Mary. She is heavy with child and needs a place to rest. Surely you must have some small corner for her. She is so tired."

Now for the first time, the Innkeeper relaxed his stiff stance and looked down at Mary. With that, there was a long pause, long enough to make the audience a bit tense with embarrassment.

"No! Be gone!" the prompter whispered from the wings.

"No!" Wally repeated automatically. "Be gone!"

Joseph sadly placed his arm around Mary, and Mary laid her head upon her husband's shoulder and the two of them started to move away. The Innkeeper did not return inside the inn, however. Wally stood there in the doorway watching the forlorn couple. His mouth was open, his brow creased with concern, and his eyes filling unmistakably with tears.

And suddenly this Christmas pageant became different from all others.

"Don't go Joseph," Wally called out. "Bring Mary back." And Wallace Purling's face grew into a bright smile. "You can have my room."

Some people in town thought that the pageant had been ruined. Yet there were other- many, many others- who considered it the most Christmas of all Christmas pageants that they had ever seen.

Resume Tips - Part II

I got another resume submission today, and I was somewhat surprised one single resume could point out so many items I missed in my first post. Seriously, it was almost like this guy had taken it upon himself to highlight exactly how many things I had overlooked. So I tip my hat to him for his efforts and will pass on these gems to you in the hopes you can avoid these mistakes as well...

7. Spell your name correctly. It's your name, for crying out loud. If there's anything you should be able to spell, it should be your name. My five-year-old can consistently spell her name correctly, so I don't think it's too much to ask someone applying for a job to be able to correctly spell theirs. No word of a lie. He introduced himself in the cover letter as 'wiaam'. It was only because his email address had 'william' in it that I was able to decipher his name.

8. After you figure out how to spell your name, put it somewhere on your resume! On a scale from one to drooling on your shoes or falling out of bed, how hard is it? I'm guessing he omitted his name so as not to draw attention to the fact that he couldn't spell it. All things considered, it was probably a good move. Misspell it once, and you could possibly call it a typo. But twice and people are reaching for your safety helmet and booking you on the "special" bus to school.

9. Find the frikin' Shift button on your keyboard. I don't care if English is not your first language, you can still figure out how to use capital letters when you write. I counted two capitals between four combined pages of cover letter and resume.

10. Do NOT use 'text-speak' anywhere your prospective employer could read it. When I read "thank u for your time", I have to wonder how flaming lazy you are that you couldn't type out those two extra letters. I'm sorry, but if Koko the gorilla can learn and use sign language I don't feel it's asking too much to expect you to type out the whole word.

11. Buy a dictionary, or see if they have a rent-to-own option. Go to Walmart and put one on lay-away. Find a spell-checker somewhere. Anything, I'm begging you. "Alot" is not a word. "Allot" is a word, and it means to portion out or divide. "A lot" is two words and the opposite of "a little". My applicant claimed to be fluent in "English and Arebic". I'm guessing he meant Arabic and not aerobic. Learn the difference between there, they're, and their. Once you've mastered those, move on to your vs. you're.

He indicated a desire to be 'sucessful', was responsible for 'biling' and bill payments, and also made the weekly 'squedules'.

I honestly can't think of a suitable line of work for this guy without somehow insulting those of that profession. Seriously, where do you stick a guy who can't spell his own name? Even if he has his name embroidered on his shirt pocket, he'd stand in front of the closet all day wondering which shirt was his...

Just Call Me Scrooge

I don't know if I've mentioned this lately, but I HATE what gets passed off as Christmas music. In my book, it ranks with the likes of country, rap, heavy metal, and cats in the blender. I would rather listen to the musical stylings of Laurence Welk covering top 40 pop hits or a chimpanzee orchestra than to the vast majority of the nauseating Christmas drivel.

Before everyone runs to grab their torch and pitch fork, let me explain myself. There are Christmas songs I could happily hear all year long, like "O Holy Night", "Angels We Have Heard on High", "Silent Night", Handel's Messiah... They carry a special feeling and power that is not easily matched.

Contrast those with the current 'favorites'. I cannot for love or money figure out what "Winter Wonderland" or "Jingle Bells" has to do with Christmas. I guess it is just assumed that winter and snow are synonymous with Christmas. Those living in Southern Alberta know that a white Christmas is an exception rather than a rule. "Frosty the Snowman" has as much to do with Christmas as Bill Gates does with the iPod.

By far, the vast majority of these Christmas carols really irritate me. Why? Because it really frosts my hide that so many songs which don't even pretend to mention anything about Christmas have become so closely tied to it. To me, it is symptomatic of how badly Christmas is being "diluted" so as not to make any religious references. Heaven forbid that a holiday with such blatant Christian roots and origins be made to seem religious. It's a celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ, but it seems we're not allowed to say that anymore.

Christmas used to be a time of "goodwill to men", not the commercial-crazed materialistic frenzy it is now. For example, the media was quick to point out that this year, unlike the previous years, no one was trampled to death during Black Friday sales. Really?! That's the new standard we're using?? Police were called in at around 2:30 AM to a Walmart in California (which was temporarily closed due to fighting between customers), a Toys R Us in Connecticut where customers tried to force their way in before the scheduled opening at midnight... but hey, no one was killed so we're still calling it a success.

Anyhow, back at the ranch... I know things aren't likely to improve any time soon. Society as a whole isn't likely going to refocus the "holiday season" on the birth in Bethlehem. All I can do is hold my own ground and hopefully help my children realize there is more to Christmas than reindeer, candy canes, and full-contact gift shopping.

"For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord." (Luke 2:11)