A little poetry, inspired by our resident food thief..
My feet are resting,
one on the other,
on an ottoman, and I can feel
my torso sinking into the leather chair.
In this rare moment of early afternoon peace,
I begin to unpeel a clementine, among the last in the box,
as the few that remained were growing soft
and possibly rotten.
As I eat pieces of the orange fruit, my daughter,
who is one, tramples over and blurts out a series of noises,
which I have learned to interpret that she wants my food.
But I cannot give the child pieces of clementine because
under my supervision my son nearly choked on an orange slice
when he was her age.
So, like a robin feeding its young with regurgitated worms, I set aside
pebble-sized bits of fruit that I’ve already chewed, and place them in a line
onto the arm of my chair. She stands beside me, knowing all along that I would do this,
and she happily plucks each tiny clump of food in between her increasingly sticky fingers,
satisfied for the moment that I’ve obliged her.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Genetic testing for $399
Spit into a tube, send it to a lab, and 6-8 weeks later, you get a DNA analysis that can tell you if you have an elevated risk to have some cancers, diabetes, Parkinson's, and other diseases.
As one who would like to know this sort of information - it seems unbelievable that it
is even available - this is very tempting. But suppose you get some difficult-to-take results, and then brace for a particular condition at some point in life, and then it never materializes? Tough, tough call to make. Is it better to not know? What if precautions one takes in hope of avoiding getting a disease don't work?
https://www.23andme.com/
As one who would like to know this sort of information - it seems unbelievable that it
is even available - this is very tempting. But suppose you get some difficult-to-take results, and then brace for a particular condition at some point in life, and then it never materializes? Tough, tough call to make. Is it better to not know? What if precautions one takes in hope of avoiding getting a disease don't work?
https://www.23andme.com/
No more pens from drug companies to docs
Interesting story in New York Times about many drug companies voluntarily stopping the practice of giving away to doctors trinkets and freebies, like pens and tissue boxes, with their names emblazoned across the side. Many doctors agree it had to end, but some, according to this article, will miss the goodies.
The question is: do items like this have any effect on prescribing medications? Most say no, and you have to believe them. Doctors have a greater responsibility to their patients to prescribe the right drug, or determining if their patients even need a pill.
But, does having posters of the human body in examining rooms with drug companies' names written on the bottom, magnets, pens, and pads, have perhaps a subconscious effect on doctors' decisions? Does having a likeable drug rep influence prescriptions that doctors write? Hopefully, the answer is no.
But there are some greedy doctors out there. Medicine is a business. And there are some unethical doctors - as in any line of work - who take kickbacks from drug companies, and commit fraudulent acts like misbilling insurance companies. At the same time, there are also docs who serve on advisory committees for drug companies, positions that are well paid, like consultants, and yet that's not a conflict of interest?
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/12/31/business/31drug.html?hp
The question is: do items like this have any effect on prescribing medications? Most say no, and you have to believe them. Doctors have a greater responsibility to their patients to prescribe the right drug, or determining if their patients even need a pill.
But, does having posters of the human body in examining rooms with drug companies' names written on the bottom, magnets, pens, and pads, have perhaps a subconscious effect on doctors' decisions? Does having a likeable drug rep influence prescriptions that doctors write? Hopefully, the answer is no.
But there are some greedy doctors out there. Medicine is a business. And there are some unethical doctors - as in any line of work - who take kickbacks from drug companies, and commit fraudulent acts like misbilling insurance companies. At the same time, there are also docs who serve on advisory committees for drug companies, positions that are well paid, like consultants, and yet that's not a conflict of interest?
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/12/31/business/31drug.html?hp
Scrubs returns!
New shows of the quirky hospital sitcom - arguably one of the best comedies on TV - will appear on ABC, beginning Jan. 6. How cool is this? Nice!
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/12/30/arts/television/30scru.html
(Too bad they couldn't have done the same with Ed a few years back.)
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/12/30/arts/television/30scru.html
(Too bad they couldn't have done the same with Ed a few years back.)
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Reckless and happy vs. Conservative and dull
Sometimes, a simple observation like seeing the guy who works at the town dump smoking a cigarette and holding a Dunkin' Donuts coffee can spark a deeper question of philosophy. That is, does it pay to be excessively careful with your life and risk ever feeling contented, or is it better to live life on the edge and perhaps die early, but happy?
This seems like a classic debate to me, so no right answer. But this guy today was clearly satisfied, at least at the moment. You could see it in him. Cigarettes cause cancer, and coffee, while not a hazard in and of itself, is not exactly health food. Who knows? It could have been this guy's fifth cup of the day?
There are many things that people do that aren't socially acceptable, like riding a motorcycle without a helmet, or riding a motorcycle in the first place, overeating, gambling, spending too much on your credit card, whatever. Yet, these things can yield happiness to people. Critics to my theory would of course say they bring temporary happiness. But I would argue that many people are never, or possibly only occasionally, happy, and this is possibly because they live too carefully, too boringly. Most everyone lives this way, sometimes, but maybe we should be this way less often.
It seems that people either need to give in to some wicked thoughts now and then, or change their idea of happiness and maybe not kid themselves that acting politically correct all the time or eating salmon and brown rice nightly is very fun.
This seems like a classic debate to me, so no right answer. But this guy today was clearly satisfied, at least at the moment. You could see it in him. Cigarettes cause cancer, and coffee, while not a hazard in and of itself, is not exactly health food. Who knows? It could have been this guy's fifth cup of the day?
There are many things that people do that aren't socially acceptable, like riding a motorcycle without a helmet, or riding a motorcycle in the first place, overeating, gambling, spending too much on your credit card, whatever. Yet, these things can yield happiness to people. Critics to my theory would of course say they bring temporary happiness. But I would argue that many people are never, or possibly only occasionally, happy, and this is possibly because they live too carefully, too boringly. Most everyone lives this way, sometimes, but maybe we should be this way less often.
It seems that people either need to give in to some wicked thoughts now and then, or change their idea of happiness and maybe not kid themselves that acting politically correct all the time or eating salmon and brown rice nightly is very fun.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
My %$#@!% snowblower
This past weekend, we got a sizable snowstorm, about 10 inches, dumped on the area - school was cancelled on Friday, Saturday was okay, but then on Sunday we got more snow and ice and sleet and freezing rain. School was delayed on Monday.
Whenever there is more than a few inches of snow, I believe I owe it to myself to use my snowblower, a very heavy, very expensive (at one time) machine, to take care of the snow removal on my driveway, which is long, and exhausting if I'm shoveling it. My snowblower, which is only five years old, has a big engine, and is imposing, for a snowblower. It should rip through snow like a hot knife through butter.
The problem is that it doesn't do that very well.
It gets clogged whenever there is the slightest amount of wetness to the snow. That means snowblowing the end of the driveway is problematic, since the snow plows add salt and dirt to the street and then plow it at the end of my driveway.
On Friday night, another bad thing happened involving my snowblower: I pulled the cord to start the engine, and the rope broke in my hand. The remaining part of the cord snapped back into the engine, disappearing in an instant.
So then I had to use the electric start feature, which sends about 90 million volts of electricity through an extension cord to start the machine. Problem was, I couldn't find the cord that came with the snow blower. I ended up using this weak little inside extension cord for a floor lamp, probably putting my life at great risk, but it worked.
Unfortunately, the snowblower later stalled a couple of times - at the end of my driveway, because, possibly, the snowblower was clogged with wet snow and slush. So I'd have to push the snowblower back to my garage to start it again. It became a cruel cycle, one that almost caused me to lose it.
I probably need to get the snowblower serviced, which I haven't done since I've owned it. I treat the snowblower as I do with most other machines I own with engines. I pour gas into the tank, and sort of expect everything to work. I pour oil into it occasionally. I don't check the spark plug. And anything else that the engine needs to work is a mystery to me.
I am dreading the next snowstorm that brings rain or is heavy snow because my snowblower will get clogged again, likely stall, and prove to be useless. We may have to purchase some better shovels if this is the case.
Otherwise, the snow plow guys may find my snowblower during the next storm in the middle of the road, abandoned, ready to advance to the big snowblower party in the sky, where snowblowers of the past are swearing at their owners for not taking care of them the way they should have.
Whenever there is more than a few inches of snow, I believe I owe it to myself to use my snowblower, a very heavy, very expensive (at one time) machine, to take care of the snow removal on my driveway, which is long, and exhausting if I'm shoveling it. My snowblower, which is only five years old, has a big engine, and is imposing, for a snowblower. It should rip through snow like a hot knife through butter.
The problem is that it doesn't do that very well.
It gets clogged whenever there is the slightest amount of wetness to the snow. That means snowblowing the end of the driveway is problematic, since the snow plows add salt and dirt to the street and then plow it at the end of my driveway.
On Friday night, another bad thing happened involving my snowblower: I pulled the cord to start the engine, and the rope broke in my hand. The remaining part of the cord snapped back into the engine, disappearing in an instant.
So then I had to use the electric start feature, which sends about 90 million volts of electricity through an extension cord to start the machine. Problem was, I couldn't find the cord that came with the snow blower. I ended up using this weak little inside extension cord for a floor lamp, probably putting my life at great risk, but it worked.
Unfortunately, the snowblower later stalled a couple of times - at the end of my driveway, because, possibly, the snowblower was clogged with wet snow and slush. So I'd have to push the snowblower back to my garage to start it again. It became a cruel cycle, one that almost caused me to lose it.
I probably need to get the snowblower serviced, which I haven't done since I've owned it. I treat the snowblower as I do with most other machines I own with engines. I pour gas into the tank, and sort of expect everything to work. I pour oil into it occasionally. I don't check the spark plug. And anything else that the engine needs to work is a mystery to me.
I am dreading the next snowstorm that brings rain or is heavy snow because my snowblower will get clogged again, likely stall, and prove to be useless. We may have to purchase some better shovels if this is the case.
Otherwise, the snow plow guys may find my snowblower during the next storm in the middle of the road, abandoned, ready to advance to the big snowblower party in the sky, where snowblowers of the past are swearing at their owners for not taking care of them the way they should have.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Christmas shopping: Men vs. Women
A piece rejected by the USA Today, New York Times, Boston Globe, and Hartford Courant...
Of all the amazing differences between genders, how each handles the task of holiday shopping is one that ranks among the most remarkable.
Many women get excited about Christmas shopping; many men, if I can speak for an entire gender here, fear it. I will generalize and this will surely lead me into some trouble, but women are just more skilled than men are at shopping, period, which surprises me that Santa Claus is a male. Santa, if he is like most guys, would prefer to remain at home, in the bowels of his basement workshop, hammering things, or counting his screwdrivers or throwing drill bits into the loose insulation dangling from the ceiling. Even I, who am rather limited with tools, would find something to saw or bore a hole into rather than fight mall traffic at Christmastime.
It shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone that guys lose it in Christmas traffic; it goes against everything that evolution has taught them.
But the thing that truly baffles me personally each year at Christmas is profoundly simple – that is, knowing what to buy for people. Typically, I go out on Dec. 23, or perhaps Christmas Eve, aiming to buy a trunkful of gifts without having prepared a list of any kind, or even having a clear idea of what stores I’m going to. Interestingly, I just allow my car to lead me in a direction, which is usually a shopping mall in one of two directions within 20 minutes of my house, and then, when I get close to extensive commercial development and buildings that have banners which read SALE, I turn into a parking lot, often at the last second, and it might be because I have a green arrow for a left turn as opposed to taking a right turn into a parking lot and having to wait in a long line.
Idling in a line of shoppers seeking the perfect parking space, I’ve found, is not a good time to develop patience.
There is no strategy, really; there is no rhyme or reason for where I end up. But once I’m inside a retail business, whether by accident or through a set of variables that I can’t even explain here, the real cluelessness begins. I ask myself things like, “What am I doing here?”, “Whom do I have to buy for?”, “Did I remember to bring my wallet?”, and “Did I get them gloves last year?”
This is when I wish I had the functionality of a woman’s brain, at least for this one day.
As a man, this is confusing territory. I mean, there are only so many gifts one can buy that are generic enough to give to people whose Christmas list you forgot. This is another critical difference between men and women. Men don’t remember what people ever say they want, despite how many times someone might repeat it. This shortcoming definitely has to do with the ability to listen, which guys are notoriously bad at.
In my experience, women are quite good at this. They can remember what someone may have whispered to them during a Fourth of July fireworks finale, when it’s impossible to hear anything but loud explosives. Many women have a keen ability to screen out all distractions when another person mentions something they want. Somehow, they are able to say to themselves, “I have to remember to get them that for Christmas”, whereas men are thinking, “Wouldn’t it be cool if those fireworks shot off sideways and blew up an entire building?”
Perhaps if shopping malls shot off fireworks around the holidays, it would motivate more men to get there, much like the strobe lights that car dealers and movie theaters flash across the night sky to attract people. I am always a sucker for wondering where those lights are coming from.
Of all the amazing differences between genders, how each handles the task of holiday shopping is one that ranks among the most remarkable.
Many women get excited about Christmas shopping; many men, if I can speak for an entire gender here, fear it. I will generalize and this will surely lead me into some trouble, but women are just more skilled than men are at shopping, period, which surprises me that Santa Claus is a male. Santa, if he is like most guys, would prefer to remain at home, in the bowels of his basement workshop, hammering things, or counting his screwdrivers or throwing drill bits into the loose insulation dangling from the ceiling. Even I, who am rather limited with tools, would find something to saw or bore a hole into rather than fight mall traffic at Christmastime.
It shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone that guys lose it in Christmas traffic; it goes against everything that evolution has taught them.
But the thing that truly baffles me personally each year at Christmas is profoundly simple – that is, knowing what to buy for people. Typically, I go out on Dec. 23, or perhaps Christmas Eve, aiming to buy a trunkful of gifts without having prepared a list of any kind, or even having a clear idea of what stores I’m going to. Interestingly, I just allow my car to lead me in a direction, which is usually a shopping mall in one of two directions within 20 minutes of my house, and then, when I get close to extensive commercial development and buildings that have banners which read SALE, I turn into a parking lot, often at the last second, and it might be because I have a green arrow for a left turn as opposed to taking a right turn into a parking lot and having to wait in a long line.
Idling in a line of shoppers seeking the perfect parking space, I’ve found, is not a good time to develop patience.
There is no strategy, really; there is no rhyme or reason for where I end up. But once I’m inside a retail business, whether by accident or through a set of variables that I can’t even explain here, the real cluelessness begins. I ask myself things like, “What am I doing here?”, “Whom do I have to buy for?”, “Did I remember to bring my wallet?”, and “Did I get them gloves last year?”
This is when I wish I had the functionality of a woman’s brain, at least for this one day.
As a man, this is confusing territory. I mean, there are only so many gifts one can buy that are generic enough to give to people whose Christmas list you forgot. This is another critical difference between men and women. Men don’t remember what people ever say they want, despite how many times someone might repeat it. This shortcoming definitely has to do with the ability to listen, which guys are notoriously bad at.
In my experience, women are quite good at this. They can remember what someone may have whispered to them during a Fourth of July fireworks finale, when it’s impossible to hear anything but loud explosives. Many women have a keen ability to screen out all distractions when another person mentions something they want. Somehow, they are able to say to themselves, “I have to remember to get them that for Christmas”, whereas men are thinking, “Wouldn’t it be cool if those fireworks shot off sideways and blew up an entire building?”
Perhaps if shopping malls shot off fireworks around the holidays, it would motivate more men to get there, much like the strobe lights that car dealers and movie theaters flash across the night sky to attract people. I am always a sucker for wondering where those lights are coming from.
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