Wienerlicious

Mike has a very specific laugh when he watches ridiculous animal videos or looks at silly animal pictures.  I never hear the same laugh when we're talking or watching TV. It's kind of this low bubbling chuckle and it's one of my favorite sounds so I do my best to get every hilarious animal video and image to him STAT.  I even sit through episodes of America's Funniest Home Videos for clips of animal highlights whenever possible.

When we see a dachshund on the street, that laugh spills out almost naturally.  It's like he can't see a wiener dog and not laugh.  It doesn't have to be doing anything cute or funny. It just has to be... a wiener dog. 

When we have room for a second dog, it will probably be from a wiener dog rescue.  Apple happens to love dachshunds, so it should work out well (she'll find the one dachshund at the bark park or dog beach and it will be the only dog she's not intimidated by - our theory is that they're the only dogs that are shorter than she is.) 

It's awesome.

So... I bet I'll be able to hear Mike's chuckle when he reads this blog. 

Because of this:

I mean, I totally get it.  They're naturally hilarious.
(I own none of these photos... they were all just pulled up off Google Image search and, I  believe, chuckle inducing.)

Wiggle Jiggle, Yellow Middle

I love eggs.

The thought of someone telling me to "go suck an egg" would not be thought of as an insult but rather some kind of delicious reward.

"Why thank you, I will gladly go suck an egg. I'll take mine poached please. With a crusty baguette.  Thanks."

There are few things in the culinary world that make me happier than a perfectly cooked egg.
 - Discovering a delectable boiled ovoid with a slightly soft core in a steamy salty bowl of ramen? Bliss.
 - Pale, fluffy scrambled eggy goodness tossed with fresh cubes of feta and cool seasonal tomatoes served over freshly baked sourdough?  Drool.
 - Popping the yolk of that delicately fried egg so that it just barely oozes onto freshly steamed rice? Home.

My mom was making these for my birthday dinner.

Eaten with thinly sliced Colombian style beef, rice, avocado and tomato. 

So good.  Add a fried plátano and an arepa and you're golden. Trust.

Hard boiled, fried, scrambled, poached, baked... yum. Chicken, quail, ostrich... yum. I don't even have to dip into the plethora of baked goodies that would not exist without the glory of the egg.

Many nutritionists assert that the egg is nature's perfect food. I found thousands of cookbooks dedicated to the egg on Amazon... including this one, this one and this one.  I'm contemplating getting one of them since it seems I have no problem eating eggs for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

I eat eggs practically every day - which isn't as cheap as it used to be.  Ever since I converted to the world of  certified humanely handled, local, free range, organic, and antibiotic free eggs (as well as poultry, beef and bacon) eating animal products has become much more expensive and much more of a treat in the last 4 years or so.  A fair trade off for some of the most incredible tasting eggs I've ever prepared (also some of the hardest eggs to peel.  What is with that?  Peeling a fresh boiled egg is near impossible.)

I had three must-do's in our most recent trip to London.  1) Tower of London  2)Beatles shenanigans and 3) Scotch Eggs.  We found this incredible gastropub that focused on local organic foods and made the most amazing scotch eggs.(A neat thing about London was that free range hens and eggs were pretty much the standard wherever we looked - even McDonald's touted free range eggs and organic milk.) My photo does not even do it justice.

Throw away all your previous notions of  "scotch eggs" because these were fresh, fluffy and so incredible.

Mike isn't as much of an egg addict as I am.  He enjoys the occasional scrambled egg or the omelet stuffed with goodies or even a couple slices of a spinach quiche... but he wouldn't touch a hard boiled egg with a 10 foot pole.  A poached egg or a sunny side up egg would likely make him gag but maybe I need to get more creative. If you have any incredible egg recipes, please do tell!

And now I leave you with this from the Korean website www.iloveegg.com

In English (couldn't embed - but seriously - check it out)
http://www.iloveegg.co.kr/egg-song%28English%292.swf

My favorite part:

"Oodle doodle!
Popular and perfect and so complete in every way!
I love you eggs!
Come into my tummy, oh so very yummy."

Brilliant.

In Korean it's even cuter somehow http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fLoT0rqkMYI

And if you look up "I Love Eggs" on you tube - they have an animated series!  Seriously.  Win.

I love you egg.  Thank you for being eggy.

The Life and Times of a Lazy Beast

This is Apple.

This is how she sleeps.

A 9lb beast snuggled under our blankets and nestled between our pillows. She’ll rustle around for a while and jam her tiny little paws into our backs until she can find the perfect spot. Normally she opts to stay under the blanket altogether, but more recently she’s decided that she prefers to sleep with her head on a pillow.

She is brilliantly lazy.

Most days she sleeps in past us and grumbles and groans when we turn the lights on before 10AM.  Literally. If her head is outside when we turn the lights on, this is what she does.

She does make up for it by helping with the laundry though.

Totally helpful.

And if you don't like it... too bad.

It's pretty much a match made in heaven.

(I was inspired to write a dog-post by The Mutts of Playa Los Hooligans. I could seriously look at people's dog pictures all day.)

Linty Lent

In observation of Lent a number of my friends have opted to abstain from certain pleasures and/or vices for the next 40 days (excluding Sundays - those observing Sundays are doing so for 46 days.) Some in preparation for the Easter season and others for the simple purpose of practicing self control. In the past I've "given up" soda, juice, fast food, junk food, meat and swearing among other things, but I struggle with the reality that, for me, the Lenten sacrifices of my past have done little to...well...bear fruit. These 40 days (for a Catholic) are supposed to remind us of the 40 days Jesus spent in the desert fasting and resisting temptation (which brings to mind one of my favorite Adult Swim shows ever.. which isn't anywhere in the ballpark of Biblically accurate... some might even say it's blasphemous...but... still... hilarious http://video.adultswim.com/lucy-the-daughter-of-the-devil/temptasia.html) and as a result remind us of our blessings and of our strength in God.

If I'm being entirely honest with myself, more often than not, my Lenten sacrifices have reminded me that I've gained 30 pounds since I was 18 and need to go to the gym, more so than of Jesus chillin in the desert* getting good with his destiny. And by the end of the 40 days anyway, I typically gorge myself on everything I deprived myself of in one delicious sitting known as Easter brunch (and of course for the following weeks as part of uh, the Easter Season?) Any daily "meditation" on my sacrifice revolved less around the spiritual ties to the sacrifice and more on the ways I could work around my sacrifice (ie. "I gave up chocolate candy... I didn't say I gave up chocolate cake...come to my belly cake!") or how they would benefit other superficial aspects of my life (ie. "I'm giving up fast food for Lent." Thinking, "hopefully that'll help me drop a size.") I felt like I was missing the point of Lenten observation. I know I should give up those silly little vices year round simply because that's what's good for me and not because it will make me a more complete person.

So this year, in keeping with the standard Catholic practice, I'm fasting and abstaining from meat on Fridays, but in an attempt to refocus my energies during the season of Lent, I'm tiptoeing out of my comfort zone (a zone that I'm still grappling with as I write this blog) and have organized a weekly Lenten-movie night. The goal is to get together with friends each Friday to enjoy a meat-free meal and watch a critically acclaimed feature film or documentary that speaks to our spiritual side and discuss.  Some of the films would have explicitly Catholic themes and others would use allegory to relate to Catholic beliefs and general social justice teachings.  

Yeah. Discuss religion?  With friends?  Who are not necessarily Catholic?  Who are not necessarily even theists?  This is my definition of awkward - don't know why - but it is.  The occasional blog is one thing, but discussion in person and unsolicited outside of Church functions goes against almost everything it means to be a cradle-Catholic.  I mean we might accidentally start talking about serious ISSUES here.  We might disagree! This could be a Pandora's box and the friend I've known for 14 years might suddenly decide I'm a total idiot. OH THE ANXIETY!

Luckily I have good friends... who humor me. And I know that when we do disagree, it will only make the discussion and the development that much richer... because they are nice and smart.

BTW....The invitation is open to anyone who is interested - message me or e-mail me and I'll give you the weekly details and weblink to the movie list so you can see what we're watching. It's a no-commitment invitation as I'd be doing this by myself if no one else ever showed up.

In any case, last Friday was the first of our screenings as we watched the documentary film, "Mother Teresa" I wasn't sure what to expect, as I had never seen it, but Siskel and Ebert gave it 2 thumbs up, so I was hoping it would be good.

It was.

I didn't know much about the incredible work of Mother Teresa, but the film has had me reflecting ever since on the things she said, the way she worked and the life she's led. Without a political swing, with no ulterior motives and with only the aid of "Divine Providence," she moved across the globe doing whatever she could do as a person to bring joy and love to those most forgotten among us, one person at a time. Her ideas so simple and honest. So seemingly easy for us to apply in our lives that it's almost embarrassing that I hadn't focused on it before. For example - one of the more personally thought provoking things she spoke of in the film:

"There is a terrible hunger for love. We all experience that in our lives - the pain, the loneliness. We must have the courage to recognize it. The poor you may have right in your own family. Find them. Love them."

It was exactly the type of film I had hoped it would be - and it sparked a chain of thoughts and reflection that I hadn't experienced in previous Lenten endeavors.  After the film, we initially all just talked about how amazing her life was and how simple and direct the way she worked was - no fundraisers, no advertising, no discrimination - just person to person love and acceptance.  The thought process continued even after we left that night and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since. I'm not sure if it did the same for everyone else that watched, but I hope it did.  Mike and I have been talking about it and coming back to it as a point of discussion a number of times over the past few days... much more thought happening than when I gave up soda.

If you've got any good movies that sparked that spiritual side of you - let me know.  I'm looking for more!  I'm trying to stay away from movies that are cheeseball watered down stuff that we may have had to watch in High School religion classes and really want to watch well made films so I have mostly put together the viewing list by cross checking high customer ratings on Amazon with Roger Ebert's reviews and picking only his 3 star or higher reviewed films when available. So far, so good.

I Wanna Be A Great Plumber Like My Brother, Mario

Last week, Mike and I started playing Super Mario Bros Wii together.

There was a time when I was pretty good at your standard video game.  I was pretty decent on the Nintendo (still kill at Tetris) could definitely hold my own on the N64 and totally pwnd Gauntlet Dark Legacy for the PS2, but it's been a while since I've played a Mario game as an adult.  I may suck at SMB Wii - but it sure is funny.

Mike and I have completely different playing styles.  I'm of the smash-every-block-and-leave-no-coin-behind faction and he's of the beat-the-bad-guys-as-quickly-as-possible faction.  And because he's player 1, we move at his pace when we play together.  Meaning, I regularly get smooshed by the left side of the screen as I'm attempting to collect coins... prompting him to console me after my Luigi character dies for the 3rd time in 2 minutes with an aptly versed,  "I think this should teach you some relevant lessons about greed."

Seriously.  He literally said that.  He kills me.

So, on our first day of playing we had just warped to the 3rd level when I took stock of the fact that my Luigi character had died at least 55 times already - it may have been more considering I had found a few 1UP mushrooms and promptly used them falling off a ledge or walking into a Goomba when I meant to stomp him.    That's 3.4375 times per level, 27.5 per world.  Mike was still playing off his original 5 lives and had accumulated a few 1UP lives - at this point, it was almost assumed that Luigi would die every few minutes and it was Mike's responsibility to keep the game going. 

During particularly hard levels, I'd keep Luigi in his floating resurrection bubble until we were past the danger zone and then I'd shake him over to Mario to be popped.  The levels would get harder and harder - and I was dying faster than the game would allow for regeneration. My shoddy skills were no longer keeping me afloat. 

Now, Mike is no pro either. While he was definitely better than I, on more than one occasion his fat little Mario delicately pushed my unsuspecting Luigi off a warp pipe and into the bottomless ravine or bounced on my Luigi's head to reach an item and as a result trapped me in the direct line of a Bullet Bill.  It's ok - I was more than willing to sacrifice my Luigi's lives for the greater good of the team.  His Mario needed to stay alive to keep the game going.

In any case, Mike was out of town the last couple of days, so I decided to practice my skillz so that when he got back, I wouldn't be the let down drag out Luigi any more.

To my surprise - I kind of kick ass. 

But not in the way most gamers would kick ass. I started my own game and  I collected every coin, replayed each level until I collected all the necessary star coins, saved the stupid Toad every time he screamed for help (and often died in the process) and found every hidden 1UP mushroom I could find.  I did die a lot in the process, but I hadn't even reached the World-1 fortress and I already had 28 lives.  28!!!!!   Slow and steady wins the race.

Mike came back and we picked up where we left off, but he sensed that my mind wasn't in our game.  It was, but I had little attachment since my Luigi character had already died and come back to life at this point about 75 times.  Plus, we had left so many Star coins behind in the worlds we passed.  I mean, is that even a complete level?  Not in my book. 

Despite my lack of attachment to our game, I was still eager to show off my newly honed skills so I really was trying to play better... but 2P is HARD.  It's way harder than 1P. Suddenly I was having to watch not only my dude, but Mike's dude too... and he was moving erratically trying to collect stuff, so I'd run into him and bounce into a bad guy and die.  Or if I wanted to super run through an area with dropping stuff, he preferred to sit and methodically time out his jumps, so I'd get stuck near the edge of the screen and die.  2P is a whole other ballgame.

So, after this experience, I don't think anyone can rightfully call themselves a SMB Wii master until they've defeated all the levels with 4P.  Because with Mario, Luigi and two stupid Toads, I can only imagine it's gotta be a cluster-thwomp.

Old Fogie

Sometimes I'm happy that no one has the superpowers to read my mind yet because my mind tends to ramble off on it's own about ridiculous things.

Like today.

When I decided that I wanted a pet crow.

Because they're very smart birds, of course.

But not until I was like 75.

That way the neighborhood kids would think I was a witch.

Because I'd have dyed my hair blue. Or green. Or hot pink.

And I'd have a pack of attack dachshunds.

And because Mike (being a retired engineer of course) would have set up a number of contraptions around our home that the kids would mistake for boobie traps.

And of course, some of them would be boobie traps.

For those meddling kids.

And maybe we'd catch a pudgy one as he was trying to fulfill his childhood obligations of a double-dog-dare to ring the doorbell and run.

And we'd call his parents. And bring him inside to wait for them.

But in the meantime, his friends watching would think we were turning him to stone with one of our contraptions.

But we'd win him over with all the amazing tricks our pet crow and pack of attack dachshunds can do and he wouldn't want to leave.

But to maintain our fearsome status, we'll make him swear an oath of secrecy.

So when he gets out and sees his friends, he won't say anything, but he'll know we're cool and his friend will think we wiped his memory.

Or that he's a pod person.

Because when I'm 75, I'll be living in a 1980's adventure movie.

See.

Could you imagine the embarrassment of someone being able to listen to that entire thought process on the elevator down to the first floor? You'd think I was insane.

London Calling

First... some photos from our last day in Paris.

(the honey and macarons that I talked about in my last blog)

(Stella - the cheap beer in Paris @ our hotel's lounge. Me & a Kir Royal for our final dinner in Paris. Mike and his nasty Desperado... tequilla flavored beer. Who would want tequilla flavored beer?)

We did it again.

We fell asleep. For 12 hours yesterday. This time in London.

We win.

We got off the Eurostar at 8:30 AM in London after a 2.5 hour train ride, so I guess maybe we were pooped. We walked into a cafe at the station to let whatever bit of rush hour traffic might be left on the Underground over the holidays pass. The place was packed and there was a bit of a line which is always a good sign. We got a table and shoved our luggage into the corner and placed our order. As soon as the server left our table we heard this honking sound outside the cafe. The servers all stopped what they were doing and stepped outside to listen as a voice came over the intercom, we couldn't understand what was being said, but the servers came back in and sort of just watched for a moment. Outside, we could see that people were picking up their bags and leaving. Everything quieted down in the cafe and we could hear the announcement the next time it came over the intercom "This is an emergency evacuation - please calmly leave the building." The servers rolled their eyes but asked everyone to exit the building and if they still hadn't paid their tabs to come back and pay after the evacuation was over.

We gathered our things and headed out towards the exit where a crowd of people were waiting. We stood out there for about 3 minutes before everyone was let back in. Apparently it was a test that no one was really expecting (we've since heard them testing the system at other stations a number of times preceded by a "this is a test, ignore the next announcement") so we head back to the cafe and queued up next to the door so we could get our table back right away. The station is a ghost town with cups and plates on every table at every restaurant - and inside our cafe are two women wandering around looking lost.

Immediately we thought - holy crap, they were locked in!

The staff of the restaurant came back a bit later and told us that it would be about 20 more minutes till they could re-open. So we waited. The two women who were inside stepped outside near us and we asked them if they were locked in. They weren't. They were actually on a train that got in after ours. The train docked and they unloaded in the time that everyone else was evacuated, so they walked into a totally empty station with half eaten sandwiches, plates, hot coffee and unlocked doors everywhere. They looked lost because they thought that they had stepped into the twilight zone (maybe the rapture?)

They were a mother and daughter who lived in Northern England and had taken the train to spend the day in London. They had specifically planned to eat breakfast at this cafe and the daughter told us that she was thrilled to only have to wait 20 minutes to dine.

I don't remember the name of the cafe, but it was incredible. It seemd like it may have been some sort of UK chain that's similar to Panera (fresh breads, organic, free range, etc.) Had the best scone and cream I've ever had in my life. I haven't had too many scones, but that's mostly because the ones I've had in the past were so dry and icky. These were major yum. Fantastic quiche and delish tea. Mike had a ham and gruyere croissant which he scarfed, so I think that was good too.

We checked into our hotel (the K+K George - which is awesome and quite a bit bigger than our Paris hotel) and then off to the Tower of London for some gruesome fun. We had a tour with a Yeoman Guard (Beefeater) which was a great way to see the place. The constant drizzle was obnoxious, but I guess that's London.

(The view from our UK hotel room - I don't know what that is. An acorn from outerspace is my guess.
Our tour guide - hilarious.)

(That's a real person guarding the Crown Jewels at the Tower of London.
Me in front of the London Tower Bridge.)

Speaking of drizzle, let's discuss my hair.

My kick ass flat iron from home heats up to a steamy 480 degrees Fahrenheit. I need that kind of control. My hair is not naturally straight, it's not naturally curly, it's not naturally wavy. It's naturally weird. The bottom layers curl. The left side waves a bit. The top is just frizzy and there are a couple of areas on my head where I have genuinely straight hair. But those are mixed in with areas that have genuinely not-straight hair. Blow drying does a good job of poofing all the mixes of hair into a nice fro. Damp drizzle does a good job of turning that fro into a sloppy mess with curls near the top. So. Pretty.

Does sarcasm translate well here?

Moving on.

My awesome travel blow drier is dual voltage, so that was a win. My kick ass flat iron, is not - and it requires about as much power to work as a tv... or so I imagine.

Voltage converters and plug converters can't handle my flat iron because it's so awesome (Matt, we have to buy you a replacement voltage converter... I killed yours. Sorry.) There's only so much you can do to hide crazy hair and this morning I about lost it, so Michael went out in the morning and picked up a handy $30 Remington flat iron from the local Boots store. I am happy again. And so is my hair.

We checked out Portobello Market today and got our London souvenir. A wooden shoe horn with a duck head. We named him George. Tonight we're getting some kind of fancy pizza at a place that Mike had talked about for a while and spending New Years in a local lounge with drunk Brits (we had no desire to brave the crowds at Trafalger Square - we wouldn't want to go to Times Square, or Vegas on NYE, so why would we do it now?)

Happy New Year from the future! See you all next year!

Macaron Mania

I’m writing this blog on a train crossing the Chunnel from Paris into London.

Yesterday was our last full day in Paris – we spent it wandering around the little streets and shops in the Left Bank and Latin Quarter areas surrounding our hotel. It might have been my favorite experience in Paris although it wasn’t without a couple of hitches here and there.

A while back I had sampled a few macarons from a Beverly Hills based macaron maker. My life was kind of changed and I would by lying if I said that part of my reason for wanting to visit Paris in the first place wasn’t about a macaron.

So, I had done my research and came across a blog all about macarons. Amazing. They reviewed every store from the big ones right down to the little ones and in the top spot was one of the biggest names in Parisian macarons, Lauduree. There just happened to be one in our area, so I planned ahead and knew I’d be buying a boatload of those precious little cookie-cake-jam-gooey-happiness things.

We get there and it’s very French. As in, everyone is speaking French. Apparently (and this is new to me) I don’t speak French. Ok, I knew that going in, but I was pretty sure I’d be fluent in French by day three in Paris – enough to order my macarons with no issues.

The little dude who helped me out spoke a bit of English, so that was cool but every time I’d say one, he’d say two. And every time I said two, he grabbed one. And when I said three, he’d pick two. And when I said five he’d grab three. So. I should have known that maybe there would be an issue here.

Meanwhile, the whole store (which is the size of my kitchen – very small) sounds like a henhouse. A French henhouse. People are coming up to the register and ringing things up, people are bustling around and I’m scared.

So the dude at the counter rings up my order. In French. I have no idea what he’s saying. I want my macarons. Let me sign the damn paper and let’s get out of here. The bill was steep. About $150 steep. Something seemed wrong, but I was already out of the store and macarons are expensive and I bought a couple gift sets. I felt a bit like crying, this was more than I had thought but whatever. I wanted my macarons.

We get back to the hotel and I look over the receipt and realize there’s a 2x in front of the most expensive gift set I picked up. I start to panic. I DON’T SPEAK FRENCH AND I WANT MY MONEY BACK!!!

Mike suggests we go downstairs to see if the front desk can help us. They do. They call up the store and explain to the Lauduree folk (in French) what happened. We hightail it back to the store and get our refund, problem solved. Phew.

We shop around a bit more and pick up some specialty Parisian honey. Incredible. I guess French bees are kind of a big deal. I had no idea.

We get back to the hotel and I check the condition of my macarons – a few have cracked. I’m worried about their ability to survive the rest of the trip. I look over the silly little French pamphlets and read the lines that will forever haunt me:

Macarons should be consumed within 3 days of purchase.

Damnit. I bought them as gifts.

I’m thinking this is just some fancy thing that they talk about “best by date” which really isn’t something we should take seriously. Right? I’ll keep them chilled and they’ll be fine, right? Right?

So.

Hopefully they’ll survive. If not, I hope you understand.

The Great Mike Detective

About a week ago, Mike had asked me if I had seen a BevMo gift card he received on his birthday but had since lost.

I hadn't. I didn't even know he received a gift card or I would have told him to put it in his wallet right away. Losing a gift card is particularly frustrating for Mike because back when we bought our condo, the Realtor we used gave us a congratulatory gift basket complete with bathrobes, mugs and a $100 gift card to Zov's in Tustin. Mike misplaced the gift card somewhere and has been kicking himself over it for the last 3 years.

Mike, being a great detective, found the missing BevMo card a few days after asking me about it. Apparently it was sitting peacefully in the bed of our scanner. With the card "safely" in his possession, his mission was now to find the culprit behind the mysterious misplacement. After all, why would a BevMo gift card need to be scanned?

Primary suspect numero uno was me. Of course.

As we lay in bed getting ready for sleep, Mike filled me in on his exciting discovery and followed his story with an open (but obviously accusing) question. "Who would leave the gift card in the scanner?"

I laughed. I told him I definitely didn't do it and reminded him that I had never even seen the card and that I would have no reason to scan it.

He was smiling - but he wasn't laughing. He still suspected me.

He still suspected me!!!

I laughed again, incredulous. "You seriously think I did it!?"

He smiled, "Who else would put it into the scanner? That's too strange."

I laughed as I began my defense...

Mike's got this old scanner that is the most finicky, complicated thing to use. You have to be running some special program and operate everything from the program - it frustrates me to use it so I usually have Mike come and set everything up for me so I can actually scan stuff. I reminded him of this and also of the fact that I would have NO reason to scan his BevMo gift card.

He smiled at me. A smile that was a mix of accusation ("you know you're guilty, right?") and pity ("poor wife, you probably are going senile and forgot you did that! How sad.")

I repeated my arguments. No awareness of gift card + no knowledge of scanner set up + no motive = wife not guilty.

Ok. He sat in silence for a moment as he gave it some thought.

He began to think aloud and told me that I was still suspect number one. He had to figure out another suspect in the lineup. Obviously this would be...

My brother.

My brother?

My brother had come over a couple times in the last few weeks to help me update my computer with new software. He was there for hours at a time installing my new OS and reinstalling my old programs.

Mike had deduced that whoever was scanning probably used the BevMo card to run a test on the scanner.

My brother was working on my computer and the scanner is connected to Mike's computer. Why he would run a color test on the scanner for Mike's computer while working on my computer is unknown - and in the case of the great BevMo Gift Card Heist - is also apparently irrelevant.

As Mike mulls over the two prime suspects, he begins to realize there may be room in his lineup for a third suspect. The least likely candidate of the shady bunch, himself.

Mike has been sitting in silence for a few moments.

Still baffled as to why I have remained suspect number one, I begin to list my alibis over again. I had never seen the card, I can hardly use the scanner, and even if I was using the scanner for some test, I would have probably picked a picture I could use once it was scanned. I then told him he was more likely to be the culprit - thinking that maybe he was making copies of other card-sized documents and absentmindedly threw the BevMo card onto the scanner and forgot it.

The wheels in Mike's head were turning. He spoke as he thought (and I'm paraphrasing here...)

"Ok, you may not be the suspect anymore... you probably would have remembered when I asked you about it last week. So, here's what probably happened. Your brother came over to work on the computers...and we were connecting your computer to our network... and I was trying to link your computer to the printer/scanner so you could print over the network... and..."

...and...

And it turns out Michael had put his own BevMo gift card onto the scanner bed to use as a test for scanning over the network.

Mystery solved!

Mike then proceeded to pat himself on the back for his superior sleuthing skills. He had figured out the great BevMo gift card mystery of 2009. He asked me if I was impressed by his deducing skills.

Seriously, he did.

He cracks me up.

Strike That, Reverse It.

Today, this happened. British Airways: Union Announces Strike

In 11 days, Mike and I are scheduled to be on a flight to Paris... on British Airways.

We bought our tickets well before November 2... there wasn't a union cloud in the sky then...

We're currently in limbo. Not officially canceled yet, so we can't rebook. Not officially cleared for flight, so we're not sure what to plan for.

In general, I support unions - I think they offer an ability to provide a safety-in-numbers net to protect the weakest members of the workforce when real abuse of labor is an issue driven by a insatiable drive for profit. In most situations in recent history and the strikes that have affected my day-to-day life, I've found it pretty easy to side with the folks doing the walk-out.

Unfortunately, in this situation I'm finding it difficult to back the employees in this decision when industry standards across the board indicate that these changes are not a threat to their health and safety and do not constitute an unfair work environment. The decisions that BA has made also do not appear to be driven by much else than to stay afloat under the current circumstances. I don't get the feeling - even in reading through the union's releases - that BA is doing something underhanded.

In my industry, layoffs have forced me to take on 3 times as much work with no additional compensation, no promises of bonuses and no pay raise in the coming year. We're fighting to stay afloat. I want us to stay afloat. It's not fun, but it's also not inhumane.

If airline industry standards are too low to constitute a healthy work environment or if industry standards were so low that all unionized airline attendants agreed they needed better, I likely would have supported a strike in which every unionized airline attendant would have participated, but they don't have that backing.

I get it. It sucks that you have one less person on a long flight where people are total douche bags who sneeze on you, don't say please or thank you and now everyone has to do a bit more work to cover for that. And I get that it sucks to not get your regularly expected pay raise or bonus. We all get it, because we're all dealing with it right now. Your biggest punch in the gut was to your customer - particularly me (the easiest person to get to hop on board with your labor dispute or any other hippie emotional cause.) I get it... but how about you don't pick the holidays to protest, and you wait for the trial date to get the law behind you (if they agree with you then the public will support you!) I'm finding it very hard to imagine how anyone at all wins here.