So Why Don't I Feel Any Safer?

I do my best to keep this light and breezy. I rarely post anything political, controversial, or "heavy". But I have to make an exception. Airport security is almost more than I can bear. Before you know it we will have to subject ourselves to strip searches before we can get on the plane. All because some people don't know how to "play well with others".

Dallas was a breeze. They have some kind of advanced equipment. I really don't know if it's the one that shows the person viewing a "naked" image or not. I don't much care as long as it isn't being broadcast to the entire airport.

Then there is London. Heathrow has to be the worst airport in the world. I'm in my 60s. The closest I've come to anything radical was an invitation to join the Yippies back in 1968. Yes, it was a long time ago. I almost always travel in jeans. At this point in my life, I'm lucky to get myself in them. I can assure anyone that there's nothing in there except me. If they bulge a bit here and there, it's only fat - unfortunate, but true. Same for my bra. There was absolutely no need for the screener to stick her hands in my pants. Likewise, there was no need for her to perform a full frontal assault on my breasts. Usually when somebody touches me like that, they buy me dinner. Anyplace else, this would be considered assault. But there in Heathrow, she is free to go and she doesn't have to buy me anything.

Our flight into Rome was delayed, so we stood around and watched the people coming through security. Every now and then, a young man or woman was assaulted but for the most part it was women over 50. To see the people they pull over you would think that there is a subversive organization of grannies - Grannies for Jihad, maybe. But really, I suppose they just like to pick on us because they think we're easy targets - not likely to make a fuss. They say the searches are "random". It just cannot be. That many women over 50 would NOT come up in a random sample.

The other thing that makes Heathrow particularly annoying is that many of the screeners are wearing hajibs. It strikes me a bit like the fox minding the hen house. It is not my intent to villify all Muslims, but let's just be realistic for a minute. All (meaning 100%) terrorist acts and attempted terrorist acts involving aircraft have had Muslims as the perpetrators and ring leaders. I know that past performance is not a guarantee of future results, but it is a pretty reliable indicator. When you know that the people who commit terrorist acts on airplanes are young Muslim men, why are you wasting your time looking at middle-aged white women? It just doesn't make sense. Also, I have NEVER seen a woman wearing a burka pulled aside for additional screening. You could get a lot more under that loose flowy thing than I can get in my jeans. Maybe I should start wearing one of those instead of jeans. I'm sick to death of political correctness.

Then the return trip. In Rome I am once again selected for additional screening. It's starting to get really old now. I rolled my eyes at her and according to Mark she gave me dagger eyes when we walked off. I don't care. At least she didn't search me with quite as much vigor as the screener at Heathrow. At least she didn't stick her hands in my pants.

But then we get to go back to Heathrow before heading to Dallas. I couldn't believe it. No one wanted to assault me. When they waved me through instead of pulling me aside I asked, "Are you sure? You don't want to feel me up? Really? Last chance..." I was told it was my lucky day. But it wasn't. When we went to the gate, they have those last "security checkpoints". I'm not sure what their purpose is, other than to employ people. They are probably about 20 feet apart from each other (some aren't even that far). They are within sight of each other. Any one of them can pull you aside to check you or your bags one last time. I made it through. But Mark got caught in the last one. This last screening is inside the gate. They had blocked off the first row of seats and set up some tables in full view of all passengers. The select few start taking off belts, coats, shoes - anything they were asked to remove. I tried to keep my sense of humor by encouraging Mark to "Take it off, take it all off." - (Remember that shaving cream commercial?) Of course, I wasn't saying it loud enough for anyone to hear me other than the guy standing next to me. I was very concerned when I saw someone else being summoned in to meet with Mark. I shouldn't have worried. He had insisted on seeing the supervisor to find out why he had been selected for the additional screening. Now we're getting somewhere. He told me later that his name was on a list provided by the TSA in Dallas. Really? Why? I'll be calling my Senator when I get home. But what happened next was shameful and made me lose my sense of humor. The next person called in for additional screening is a poor old dear in her late 70s to mid 80s. She used a walking stick. She couldn't take her own shoes off. -- Never mind there were two screeners there who were on her like stink on poop to get her shoes off for her, and her coat, and her scarf. I thought they were going to strip her naked for a minute. The way they treated this woman made me physically sick. It might have been my mother. In another 15 years, it might be me. I lost my sense of humor. It was sickening. It was disgusting. Something needs to be done to stop it. Do I feel safer knowing that somebody's grandma has been assaulted by these security thugs? Sadly, I don't.

The Downside

Yesterday I wrote about the things we really liked about Spoleto. Today I give equal time to some things we didn't like - again in no particular order.

1. Dog poop - I'm not saying it's a mine field. It isn't. But you do need to watch where you're walking. There's very little litter, but you do need to watch out for the dog poop.
2. Flies - There are loads of them. (Perhaps a result of the dog poop.) They fly in your face and you are constantly waving them off. Very annoying.
3. Panhandlers - Mostly Nigerian imports. They also get in your face and you are constantly waving them off.
4. Unsalted bread - It's just not as good as salted bread.
5. Toilets - Many of the toilets don't have seats. Since most toilets are unisex, I suppose it spares women from the ill-effects of men not putting the seat up, but I prefer a proper seat. And I insist on toilet paper.
6. The young lady who works in the train station snack bar - She was the only unfriendly and unhelpful person we encountered. If she doesn't want anyone walking on her newly mopped floor, she should lock the door and refrain from mopping until closing time.
7. Walking uphill - Most of the narrow, cobblestone streets are uphill - both ways. Particularly on Saturday night when you you can't get a taxi and learn that the escalator went into lock down at 8 PM.
8. No taxis on Saturdays - If you're taking a day trip to Rome (or anywhere else) don't do it on Saturday. There will be no taxis at the station when you return. (We weren't that concerned because Roberto, our taxi driver who speaks English, had been diligent in picking us up at the designated time all week long. But not on Saturday. I didn't feel well that evening. I was shivering. Instead of calling a taxi for me, the young lady in the train station snack bar scolded me for walking on her newly mopped floor. We tried calling another taxi but they hung up on us when we couldn't speak Italian. We walked from the train station to the escalator. That was when we discovered that it closed at 8 PM. If we had not spent 20 minutes waiting for Roberto and trying to call another taxi, we might have made it. We were running out of options. But there was a taxi parked outside the Casbah Club near the locked entrance to the escalator. Unfortunately, the taxi driver was providing the entertainment in the Casbah Club and would not be able to taxi us anywhere. We were told it was just a short walk to where we wanted to go. We knew that. A short walk. Straight uphill. It took us another 20 minutes.
9. Francesca - Francesca was the name of the toddler who was running amok in the restaurant our first night out on our own in Spoleto. There seemed to be at least one "Francesca" in almost every restaurant. Just not something you expect in upscale places.

So it's not exactly a "top ten" list. But that's okay - clearly the positives outweigh the negatives.

The Top Ten - The Upside

Spoleto is very different from Celina. We had a conversation (actually, more than one) about the things we liked best about Spoleto. So here they are, in no particular order - the Spoleto Top Ten.

1. The pace of life -- The pace of life is much slower than Rome, and possibly much slower than home. It seems that the shopkeepers open and close when they feel like it. In fact, there was a ceramista shop that had a plate I wanted, but I didn't get it because I never found the shop open. But that's okay. It's a bit like that in Celina - which means if you really want it, you may have to drive to Frisco to get it. Just in this case, I didn't find a similar plate anywhere else.
2. The proximity to Rome -- Spoleto is a short drive or train ride into Rome. We were able to spend a few days in Rome and Assisi without having to pack up and set up a new base somewhere else.
3. 
   Public transportation -- Trains, buses and taxis are available to take you where you want to go. We don't have that luxury in Celina. In fact we have to drive for nearly 30 minutes to catch the light rail that goes into Dallas. By the time we do that, we might as well drive into Dallas. I really like public transportation.
4. Friendly, helpful people -- For the most part, once people realized that our Italian vocabulary consisted of Grazia, Buongiorno and Buona Sera, they all brought out their English skills - which were so much better than our Italian skills.
5. 
   Picturesque - The views from the hills were stunning. The narrow cobblestone streets, the unusual doors and door knobs, the flower boxes, the fountains, the cats sunning themselves in windows - so many photo opportunities!
6. The escalator - There is an escalator near the marketplace not far from Piazza Garibaldi that takes you up near the Castle and enables you to walk downhill instead of uphill. (Having four stents, I appreciate this!)
7. 
   The views at Casa Feeney - We're typically pretty lucky with views. But the views from Mike & Ros's apartment were fabulous. From the hall window we could see the Ponte Del Torre; it's lovely when it's lit up at night. Our bedroom overlooked a convent, gardens, and tile roofs. Beautiful! We could look out at night and see the cross on the top of the hill. Better views are hard to come by.
8. 
   Selection of restaurants - There were any number of high quality restaurants to choose from - all within a short walking distance.
9. 
   Food - The food was all wonderful. Excellent quality and cooked from fresh ingredients. And relatively inexpensive. We enjoyed a multiple course meal that would have set us back over $100 at home for just over $70.
10. Wine - The Montefalco Rossos were the perfect complement to the food. We particularly enjoyed the Sagrantinos. And they didn't have to be expensive to be good!

Prego! Mangia!

Every time we went into a restaurant we were greeted with "Prego, prego! Buongiorno." I recognize "prego" as a brand of pasta sauce and had no idea what they were saying. I got the buongiorno part but I had to Google prego. It means "Welcome!" Always good to know. I'll never look at that jar of Prego on the grocer's shelf in the same way. But let's talk about the food.

I have always loved Italian food. But I've grown accustomed to the American version of Italian food. (Well why wouldn't I? I have lived in America all my life.) When you go to an Italian restaurant in the United States, what do they serve you first? Garlic bread? Or maybe a rustic bread with olive oil and herbs for dipping? We were in Italy for ten days. The closest thing I saw to garlic bread was on a a platter of assorted bruschetta. Most of the bread was unsalted and no olive oil was offered with it. You didn't even get a bread plate. It's different there.

Don't get me wrong. The food in Italy was wonderful. The wine was even better. But it's different from the Americanized version of Italian food. Pastas are local. In Spoleto, the local pasta is strangozzi. It's wider and flatter than spaghetti, but not as flat as fettucine. One way of serving it there is "Spoletina", the local variation of tomato sauce. Another way is "tartufo", the local truffle sauce. Then there are combinations of mushrooms, tomatoes, truffles and other ingredients. The point is that spaghetti is not always on the menu. Neither are lasagne or ravioli. But in Spoleto, strangozzi is always on the menu and so is "Spoletina". The cuisines of some cities have made their way into our culture - "Florentine" or "Bolognese" for example. "Spoletino", not so much.

The pizza is wonderful. It's thin crust - not greasy. No stuffed crust, no thick crust and no deep dish. But it's not what they serve in the US. There is no "super deluxe". It only comes in one size. It is intended to be a meal for one, maybe two if they are light eaters. You order the combination of toppings you want. Additional toppings are not an option. When it arrives at your table, you have to cut it yourself. The toppings are not so thick that you can't fold it over, as everyone does. I think that this is how pizza was meant to be. (Although I question the sanity of boiled potato as a pizza topping. That actually was an option in one ristorante!) In the US, we've super-sized our pizzas, as we do with so many things. That's not to say that when I get home, I'll not want to have my "super deluxe" pizza loaded with toppings from time to time. I certainly will.

In addition to a wide variety of cured meats, such as salumi and prosciutto, a wide variety of cooked meats have been offered. More beef than chicken, but almost always pork and lamb. (As a general rule, Mark and I don't eat beef outside the US.) I tried a chicken dish and found it a bit stringy. I suspect it was free range chicken, as it had been slow cooked. It was very tender, and quite tasty, but the texture was a bit stringy. All the pork was excellent. While I typically don't eat much lamb, Mark does, and reported that it was all excellent. Since he is a much more adventurous eater than I am, he also tried the pigeon and the wild boar and pronounced them both very good.

Most of the restaurants offered a fixed price menu. It is a fantastic value if you can eat that much. We did it one night. We had a flaky pastry (savory rather than sweet) with a cheese sauce/filling, a bit of risotto, strangozzi with tartufo for me, pigeon and pasta for Mark, roast pork loin with an herb crust and orange sauce, and chocolate cake, followed by assorted biscotti. It included water (sparkling or naturale) and two glasses of vino. A meal 1ike that would have cost us well over $100 at home. We ended up asking for most of it to be boxed up so we could have it for lunch the next day. I don't think they're accustomed to people asking for boxes. They managed to wrap up (not box) the pork but left out the strangozzi tartufo - which was absolutely the best. I was so disappointed. But I bought some truffles to bring home, and a cookbook. Now if I can find some of that Montefalco Sagrantino...

Unusable!

The problem with public toilets is that they are often unpleasant. This seems to be the case the world over. The worst ones are in truly public spaces, such as public parks, train and bus stations, and on the trains and buses. Airports aren't usually as bad, although I must say that the public toilet in the baggage claim area of the Rome airport takes the prize for the worst smelling public toilet in the world. But this is the exception rather than the rule.

If I can't go private (the comfort of my own home or hotel room) my next choice is semi-public. These are the toilets in restaurants and coffee shops - places that are open only to paying customers. Many of the public toilets in Italy require payment. Prices ranged from .50 Euro to 1 Euro. I don't like to pay to use a toilet. I also don't like to pay to park. It's not the American way. But if I want to go to the toilet, Mark can always be persauded to have a cup of coffee. But this wasn't always a safe bet in Italy. Many of the public and semi-public toilets do not have toilet seats. They also suffer from a lack of toilet paper. I can adjust to the lack of a proper seat. I cannot adjust to the lack of toilet paper. That renders it unusable.

When I was growing up, my mom always made sure that everyone had been to the bathroom before they got in the car. Old habits die hard. It was only a 10-minute cab ride from Casa Feeney to the station in Spoleto, but we had a bit of a wait because Mark didn't know how to communicate quarter hours to the cab driver. Having already experienced the public toilets on the train, I thought I'd use the one at the station. I left Mark with his tea and set off around the corner.

I found it with no problem. Women to the right, men to the left and the shared sink in the center. I went through the ladies door. I ALWAYS look! (It just saves time and heartbreak in the long run.) Surprise! No paper. And the door didn't actually close properly, either. Okay, what to do? I know! I'll just nip into the men's and see if there's any paper in there.

A gentle push to the door of the men's room was met with a bit of resistance that included a grunt. (Ooops! I didn't mean to see that. Fortunately, men pee with their backs to the door - so he didn't actually get a look at me!)

I went back to the coffee shop.

"It's unusable. No paper."

Mark pointed out the scratchy, rough paper napkins in the dispenser.

"No, it's okay. The door doesn't work properly. I thought I'd just nip into the men's loo and see if it had any paper."

"And was there?", Mark asked.

"Don't know. There was a man in it."

Mark burst into laughter. And I couldn't help but join in. A man in the men's toilet! Whatever next!

When in Rome

When in Rome, do as the Romans do. Not necessarily good advice. Roman traffic is manic, at best. They double park. They park in all directions (but Smart cars lend themselves to being wedged in anywhere.) The motorcyclists and scooter riders weave in and out of cars and buses. I even saw one scooter weaving in amongst a segway tour group.

At one point I heard a commotion involving a horn and when I turned to look the "honker" was a nun. Apparently patience is not one of the virtues practiced by her order. But people only honk at drivers, never at pedestrians.

In the area surrounding the Spanish Steps and the Trevi Fountain, people just walk out into the street, even though these are not designated pedestrian areas. Cars and trucks are coming, but no one seems to be in that much of a hurry. And no one gets hurt.

Street vendors seemed to congregate near the tourist areas. Some offering roses - "I give to you" - Yeah, right. Others were hawking those strange little toys that splat out flat and then reform into balls. These were a bit different because they made a squealing sound when they flattened. We just couldn't think of anybody with kids that we disliked enough to buy one for their kids. And then there were the guys selling scarves. They carried them on their arms - it must be tiring to hold your arms up like that all day -- and as you approached they opened their arms to show you the scarf. A bit like a flasher with his raincoat. But could those guys ever cut and run when they saw the carabinieri coming.

If I had to come up with a word or short phrase to describe Rome it would be "Grand Scale". Everything is larger than life. The Colosseum, built in the first century held 80,000 people. That's the same number as Cowboys Stadium. (Don't tell Jerry Jones that it's been done before.) The Circus held 250,000 people. Wow. The Glory that was Rome.

The Vittoriano is the biggest, grandest, structure I have ever seen. There is nothing in London that compares to it, and it's been a while since I've been to Paris, but I don't think there's anything comparable there, either. Not to mention the Vatican. St. Peter's is the biggest church in the world, and certainly one of the most ornate. I've seen some that rival it for splendor -- the Kykkos Monastery in the Troodos Mountains of Cyprus, for example. But in this instance, size matters!

A beautiful, beautiful city, but like all big cities, a bit hectic. We were happy to get on the train and head back to Spoleto, where things are a bit slower -- better suited to old gits and tarts like us.

I Can't Imagine God is that Pleased

I suppose you could go to Rome without a visit to the Vatican, but we really wanted to see it. We booked the tour online yesterday so we wouldn't have to stand outside in line for hours. We arrived in Rome about 4 hours before the tour. We bought tickets for one of the "hop on - hop off" open air tour buses and headed for the Vatican early. We decided it would be best to determine where we were supposed to be for the tour before we were actually supposed to be there and then not be able to find it for some reason.

Easy to find! Now we're wandering somewhat aimlessly looking for a coffee shop. I'm thinking - "We are in Rome. There are so many beautiful things to see. Why on earth are we wandering around this mucky street?" Did I say anything to that effect? No, of course not. At least not until lunch time. I saved the conversation for our somewhat 'less than mediocre' lunch at a sidewalk cafe near the Vatican.

"You know I rarely question your sightseeing strategies, but I've been thinking that we are in Rome and there are so many beautiful things to see and we are roaming up and down these not so beautiful streets."

"It's because the Vatican tour is going to wear us out. It will be three hours or longer and we will be on our feet the whole time. Also, I don't want us to be wandering around the Coliseum, lose track of time and not be here for our tour."

"That's fine. It makes sense. I was just wondering."

We walked around for a bit and then went to the steps where we were to meet and saw that a number of people were already there. We were told that we would be in Michaela's group.

"Michaela is over there. She has a beer."

I asked, "What does she have?"

"A beer".

Well, Michaela does not have a beer. She has a bear. English can be such a difficult language. (Deer and Dear are the same - Beer and Bear are not.) Michaela has a bear on a stick that she's named Moses. We are given radios so we can hear her and we are to follow Moses through the Vatican. The group is limited to twenty people. Our group includes a couple from Oklahoma City with grandchildren in Dallas. (We're from Dallas with grandchildren in Oklahoma City.) There is a couple from Arkansas, some people from the Philippines and some folks from Canada and a family with two teenagers from parts unknown. We set off behind Moses.

We were on our feet for three and a half hours. We went upstairs and downstairs - no elevators. We definitely got our money's worth. There is so much to see. I sometimes forget that the Vatican is a country unto itself. But Michaela kept reminding us of the dual role of the Pope - as both a religious and political leader.

The paintings are fabulous, Michelangelo, Botticelli, Raphael...All so beautiful. I managed to fire off a shot in the Sistine Chapel before I was informed that no photography was allowed - by order of the Japanese company who funded the restoration. Unfortunately, it wasn't a particularly clear shot.

St. Peter's is the biggest church in the world. You could probably put St. Paul's in London inside it. There is untold wealth and beauty within the walls of the Vatican.

But here's my problem with it - each Pope, (and as I understand it, there have been over 200 of them) have each put his own stamp on it, and according to Michaela , have made their nephews cardinals. The Vatican is a memorial to the Popes, not to God, not to Jesus Christ. And that's where I think they've missed it - they've built monuments to themselves. It is incredibly beautiful, but I can't imagine God is all that pleased.

But here are some pictures...

A Day in Assisi

Assisi is a short train ride from Spoleto. About a half hour. Then a bus ride up the hill. (The term "hill" is used loosely, it may very well be a mountain.) It is absolutely beautiful! There are more churches, cathedrals and religious shrines than you can imagine. Assisi's primary claim to fame is that it is the birthplace of St. Francis of Assisi. Since being here, I've learned that it pays homage to St. Chiara, as well. I have also learned that St. Chiara is also known as St. Clare. If you want to know more, click here.

It was a beautiful day. We had a lovely lunch and the only "less than perfect" thing was that Mark seemed to be coming down with a cold. We had to go into the Farmacia and upon discovering that they spoke "a little" English, had to convey with fake sneezing that Mark needed something for a runny nose. I think their English was a bit more than "a little" and I think they got a pretty good laugh seeing me sneezing and pointing. We did get him some tablets but they seemed to make him a bit woozy. Hopefully, it will be a bit better tomorrow. We still need to see Rome!!

Enjoy these photos of Assisi.

Ups and Downs

I didn't expect Italy to be so hilly. Of course, so far I've only been to Spoleto, so I'll try not to draw too many conclusions based on very limited experience. Between yesterday and today, we have been up and down (it seems like more up than down) streets, paths, and trails.

Yesterday we crossed the Ponti del Torre and walked some of the trails and paths. The path we used to descend Monteluca seemed very steep and narrow and I was very glad when we finally reached the bottom.

As you might expect, the streets are very narrow and some are really walkways, open only to pedestrian traffic. But I'm getting quite a workout - especially when I have to go uphill.

I'm guessing that by the time I can go up two streets without having to stop (assuming I ever get to that point) it will be time to leave. I'm thinking that there is no better cardio workout than hill climbing. Unfortunately there really aren't any hills in the Dallas area.

According to My Precise Calculations

We were scheduled to arrive in Rome a bit after 4:00 PM. It is an hour and half train ride from Rome to Spoleto. Allowing for baggage claim, clearing customs and the train ride, we should have arrived in Spoleto no later than 7:30 PM, according to my precise calculations.

But there were a few things my precise calculations didn't account for:
1. The flight from London to Rome was delayed by 40 minutes. Only 10 minutes were made up in the air. We were 30 minutes later than planned.

2. Because Mark has a British passport and mine is American and we are travelling together, we typically just choose the shortest line. This time, the young lady told me I would have to get in the other line because my passport had to be stamped and Mark's didn't. I was instructed to jump the line but I still had to wait. The young man did NOT stamp my passport. But okay, 10 minutes wasted.

3.We bought tickets from the airport to the Termini and on to Spoleto. But on the platform while our tickets were being validated, two young men, one severely handicapped, jumped the line and got in front of us, causing us to miss the train. (They missed it, too. - But unfortunately the next train was 30 minutes away.) We could have made it, but not without knocking them down. (Bad idea.)

4. We arrived in the Termini around 6 pm. We had been instructed to look for the train to Perugia, but coulfdn't find one. After numerous text messages between Mike and Mark, and a conversation between me and a railway employee, we discovered that the last train to Spoleto had left 30 minutes earlier and the next one was more than an hour away.

5. We decided to sit down and have a coffee or a vino rosso while waiting for the board to show the train to Perugia. During this time, Mike sent Mark a message that we needed to change the ticket because it was a different type of train. My inclination was to keep the same ticket and play dumb tourist if questioned. (Believe me, it's not that much of a stretch.) But Mark set off to change the ticket. This is when he found out you had to get a ticket to buy a ticket. Really? You have to get a ticket to buy a ticket? Is it any wonder the Italians are on the verge of economic collapse?

6. Mark still wasn't back but it was time to head to the platform. What should I do? First thing was to drink his vino rosso. Then I headed for the platform. I thought I'd see him on my way, but I didn't. Uh-oh. Where is he? Decided to go back to the cafe and saw him arrive there and the look of panic on his face when he didn't see me waiting where he'd left me. Even with all the bags in tow, I was able to close the gap between us and we made our way to platform 2.

7. The train left the Termini at 7:55 headed for Spoleto.

8. Despite all odds, we stayed awake and got off the train at Spoleto. Mike met us at the station with a cab and we arrived at Casa Feeney two hours PAST my precisely calculated arrival time.

We were shown to our room and treated to a wonderful homemade meal featuring veal scallopine! Mike and Ros have an absolutely beautiful place here. You can see the Ponti del Torre from the window! We are going to have such a good time...

A Victim of His Own Efficiency

The days before a trip can be hectic. At least they are at our house. So much to do! Get the laundry done so you can pack. Take the kitties to Camp O'Shea. Shop for last minute items. Make sure the bills are paid and checks have been deposited. Busy, busy, busy.

We took Heidi and Hefner to Camp O'Shea today so I'd have tomorrow to pack without making them suspicious. But after we dropped them off, I was hungry. "How about some lunch?" I went through the coupon book and we decided on lunch at Bonnie Ruth's after stopping at Citi Bank. But then we realized that it was nearly 1:00 and there just wasn't time for a leisurely lunch. A new plan - we have to pick up prescriptions at Brookshire's so we'll just buy some nice artisan bread and some ham and we'll have sandwiches for lunch so Mark can make his client meeting at 3:00.

I admit, I'm not the fastest shopper. I have to read the labels. I don't want to buy anything with High Fructose Corn Syrup in it. The best way to know what's in it is to read the label and that just takes time. This is why women are gatherers - we have to look at everything before it goes into the basket. But men are hunters. They don't need to look at it, they just spear it and move on to the next one. Very quick. Quick and efficient are synonymous, aren't they? So Mark has a strategy. We will both go into the store. I will get the prescriptions and he will get the bread and ham. Then we will go to the bank. Then we will go home. I will load the car with the items that are being donated to charity and he will make the sandwiches. Then he will go to his client meeting. We have a workable plan.

Mark had hunted down the bread and ham and paid for them before I was finished at the prescription counter. After we left Brookshire's we went straight home. We did not deposit the check. But that's okay, we didn't even realize we'd forgotten that for several hours. He had very efficiently hunted down the bread and the ham and was quite eager to get home and make the sandwiches. When we got home, I started loading the car and Mark started making the sandwiches. Many of you may think we got this wrong - that he should have been loading the car and I should have been making the sandwiches. But Mark knows his way around the kitchen (at least until he's asked to unload the dishwasher) and often produces some very inventive sandwiches.

Mark let me know that the sandwiches were ready and I took my seat. They were lovely! English mustard, ham, tomato, cheese and mayo on artisan bread. I took a bite. I looked at Mark. He was looking back with a semi-raised eyebrow.

"What kind of bread is this?", I asked.
"I don't know. Whatever they had. I just grabbed one."

I got up and looked at the package. "Apple Cinnamon!" It's awful! It might be nice for breakfast but it is completely wrong with mustard, ham, cheese and tomato. I am amazed. No, I'm stunned. Maybe incredulous is a better word. I just can't believe that he bought a loaf of bread, artisan or otherwise, without even looking at it! Who does that?? And then he made two sandwiches with it and still doesn't have a clue that it's apple cinnamon?

I immediately got out some whole grain bread so I could transfer my ham, tomato, and cheese onto it. But Mark decided to skip lunch and left in a bit of a huff. I offered to "fix" his sandwich, but he declined. Clearly a victim of his own efficiency.

He's now informed me that he's not going to buy bread in Brookshire's anymore -- because they go out of their way to trick you into buying apple cinnamon bread when you think you are buying multi-grain bread. I'm not sure what he'll do when he buys the wrong bread in Market Street - probably just stop eating bread. Or he could try reading the label...

I'm NOT a Tomato

On his way home yesterday, Mark called me from Market Street to see if I needed him to pick up anything. We keep a running list on the refrigerator.

"Let me check. Yes, we need local honey, red pepper flakes, toilet bowl cleaner, but don't get that at Market Street - it's too high. I talked to Valerie and they're not going out tonight. We can go, or if you'd rather eat in tonight, we could grill hamburgers. But we will need tomato and onion. And I could make a pasta salad to go with it. What do you want to do?"

"Let's do the hamburgers. Text me a list of what you want."

"I would rather do without everything than text you a list."

"Oh yeah, you struggle with that little keyboard. You don't have to text it. You can email it - I'll still get it."

"Okay."

And that's when I remembered that there are two things that Siri is good for. One is calling someone whose number is on the contact list. The other is sending a text to someone who is on the contact list.

I summoned Siri from the depths of my iPhone. She wondered how she could help me. "Send a text message to This Phone." (This Phone is the way Mark is listed on my iPhone contact list. And yes, I think it's strange, too.)

"I can send a text message to This Phone. What would you like it to say?"

"Local honey, red pepper flakes,..."

"Local honey red pepper flakes. Would you like me to send it now?"

"No! I'm not done!"

"You can cancel, send, or start over."

"Fine! Start over."

"What would you like to say?"

"Honey, pepper flakes, spring onions, onion, and tomato."

"Honey pepper flakes spring onions I'm a tomato"

"Nooooo! I'm not a tomato." (But I am laughing at the suggestion.)

"You can cancel, send, or start over."

"Start over."

"What would you like to say?"

"Honey, pepper flakes, spring onions, onion, tomato."

It was finally right - more or less - and so I sent it to This Phone. I wasn't particularly pleased with it because it had no punctuation. (After all, I AM a grammar Nazi.) But that's because I never remember that if you want a comma or a period, you have to tell Siri where to put it. So instead of reading my list, I would have to say, honey comma, pepper flakes comma -- you get it. Someday I may get the hang of it. And it must have worked because Mark came home with everything I'd asked for.

And for all that trouble, Valerie called back and we ended up going out. But we'll be grilling those hamburgers tonight if the rain holds off.

Dancing with Who??

I watched in horror last night as Mark and Bristol were pronounced "Safe". That was so wrong. It meant that someone who actually could dance was leaving the show.

I like to watch Dancing with the Stars for the dancing. I certainly don't watch it for the "star" value. In fact, I think "dancing with the stars" is a bit of a misnomer. In all the years this has been on, you could probably count the number of "stars" on one hand.

While she may be good at the horizontal bop, Bristol Palin isn't a particularly good dancer. Which leads me to believe that she is winning the popularity contest because of who she is. And just who is she? A self-proclaimed redneck who's primary claim to fame is having had a child out of wedlock. Oh yeah, and she has a famous mother. If her mother hadn't been the vice-presidential nominee during the 2008 presidential campaign, it's not likely anyone would have heard of her. I've noticed that the show bills her as a "teen activist". If she'd been a little less active...never mind. And it's not just her. As near as I can tell from the magazines I pick up in nail salons and waiting rooms, MTV has a show called "Teen Mom", featuring unmarried girls who are pregnant. I'm sure there are girls who are trying to get pregnant just so they have a chance of being on TV. Back when I was a teenager, if you were pregnant you either got married quietly or you were sent on an extended "vacation". I'm glad we are less judgmental now. These girls and their children need the love and support of their families. They should not have to live in the shadows, but simply having a child out of wedlock should not elevate you to star status.

Pamela Anderson summed it up when she said that Bristol Palin had the Tea Party behind her. Which means that now politics has invaded every nook and cranny of my life. I can't turn on the radio or the television without being bombarded with politics. Many of my Facebook friends are busy "liking" and "sharing" their candidates' pages and taking pot shots at the other side. Some of what I see is funny. Much of what I see is offensive. If I want to avoid it (and I do), I'll need to shut off all media and bury myself in a novel. But perhaps instead of a debate, we could get the candidates to have a dance-off...

But there is an upside. Dancing with the Stars allows fans multiple votes online, on the phone and on Facebook. Multiple votes and multiple voting methods. The presidential election limits voters to one and only one vote. If only as many people were as enthusiastic about electing a president as awarding a mirror ball trophy...

(For the record, I have voted in every presidential election I have been eligible to vote in, except one and I have never cast a single vote for a Dancing with the Stars Contestant.)