baby back tofu

it's a brave new world out there. at least when it comes to eating.

my dietary choices were never easy.

after all, i could have white meat or red meat for dinner. or both.

and then there was the troublesome issue of a t-bone versus a cheeseburger in paradise.

either would do well with an appetizer of a rack or two of ribs.

just so i left enough room for half of a peanut butter pie.

interesting how a colonoscopy changes things.

i am discovering that kale and bok choi start looking pretty tasty when you are facing surgery. and those black bean veggie burgers really aren't all that bad with some chipote seasoning.

i always enjoyed ethnic foods. and thai and indian lend themselves to a meat free diet.

they did look at me a bit funny when i tried to order beef dishes at gandhi's in denver.

i can eat tofu if it comes in a nice panaang sauce.

jimmy buffet made it 70 days in his song. i may need to amend my carnivorous habits for a bit longer.

2 weeks with no processed sugar, diet drinks, meat, or pizza. and i still have my will to live.

little did i know how good i had things.

no food for the next two days.

a clear liquid diet seems to pretty much rule out my green smoothies, to say nothing of anything that i can actually stab with a fork. and then i have an IV for a food source. followed by an always tantalizing diet of hospital food.

by the time i get back to having a plate of broccoli and cauliflower they should look like a gourmet meal at the ritz carlton.

2 more days until surgery. it will be a big adjustment for poodle. 4-7 days in the hospital if all goes well. she will be standing by the door with a tennis ball in her mouth the whole time.

and i will worry about the additional burden on joy. she has handled all this with great strength and tenderness. although i did find her watching carter on the home repair network a bit more than usual.

just a quick thank you to everyone who has been so kind to write and send good thoughts. i will have lots to read and hope to have a laptop so i can keep you posted on the cafeteria menu.

wouldn't it be interesting if they served baby backs?

pole dancer

i don't know which to say first.

whether i should have written. or that i finally have some good news.

so let's start with the news and worry about the whether later.

i know jock will skip to sports.

the beginning was not what i expected. but of course i was in no position to comment.

with laproscopic surgery you have only three small incisions. with general surgery you have a major slice taken out of your gut. i have all of the above. and in spite of all of the losing lottery tickets am the luckiest ...

you know the rest.

poor joy was conscious during surgery and had to deal with the fact that this would be converted to a full surgery because of a major scarring problem from an appendectomy in 1960.

may be the only thing i have left from 1960.

and the location of the cancer was bad news. no snip snip of the colon. definitely a rectal cancer. another bad surprise.

lots of consequences from this i had not forseen. but nothing of merit until the pathology came back on monday. and the pathology is great news.

so the surgery is a success.

the good thing about being in a hospital is that you really don't care.

other than a really bad rockies game, or a certain judge's courtroom, there is no place else that takes away your will to live so effectively as a hospital.

you start with lots of pain and discomfort because you don't go there for recreation. add a few patients screaming for help at 2 a.m. as if they are dying. if i can hear them, why can't a nurse? and if you do sleep, count dracula comes by for a blood sample with your hourly temperature and blood pressure reports to follow.

and the healthiest and most appetizing food available is jello.

one person walked into the hospital seeking directions to wal mart and they gave him a fifty fifty chance to live.

i cannot express how anxious i was to get out of there.

writing was not an option.

i didn't feel up to visitors. even the phone became an enemy and went home with joy on a daily basis. after four days i finally began to be able to read.

when i am too sick to read you don't want to be around me.

but i did start a new career.

there were two areas i knew i had to achieve before i was going anywhere. i had to walk and i had to move my bowels.

after a two day colon cleanse i chose to work on my walking before testing any new equipment.

most of my friends have an image of me charging up a colorado mountain with a walking stick in hand and a smile on my face.

a bit difficult to achieve when you have blood dripping into one arm, and an IV and pain medications going into the other. all anchored to a metal pole with plugs dragging behind.

but the day sfter surgery i was stumbling down the hall grasping this pole and making the circuit just like i was getting ready for the indy 500.

it was the only thing that made me start to feel a bit better. so i just kept going.

3 or four times a day i would do my laps. by the end i was getting a bit creative with the pole. maybe there is a new career after 60?

of course a hospital gown is not all that flattering from the rear. but there were a few of the over 8o year olds in the crowd that gave me a bit of encouragement.

one friend suggested that i bring a can and have voyeurs insert coins.

i explained that my can was already hanging out and that no one was inserting anything in that direction until my next colonoscopy.

the good news is that there is no film. and there will be a future colonoscopy.

like dorothy, i am clicking my ruby red slippers and telling poodle there is no place like home.

it will be a rough recovery. with some bleak days i am sure.

dr. house will be delighted to hear i have vicoden.

but no more four day old pork loin.

pass the jello. please!

what an ash!

any t.s. elliot fan knows the world will end with a bang.

but did you really think your trip to paris would be cancelled because of a volcano?

not exactly the end of the world. but no one wants ash in their creme brule.

it is hard to focus on the story in this country because it has not changed the efficiency of the i-pad in new york city. and you can't make a volcano dance with a star.

but in europe it is a big deal.

thank you for not smoking.

but airline officials are smoking mad, apparently limiting european air space to extraterrestials did not sit well with those in the industry who look at the bottom line as being worth exposing a jet engine or two to volcanic ash.

not a big deal to me at this point. when you are not yet allowed access to a honda del sol, the next flight to brussels is not a high priority.

all i want is a chance to start walking multiple blocks at a time.

sounds like the doctor won't be an obstacle.

he will still not allow me to pick up anything heavier than a check at a restaurant, but walkling is fine.

no driving, but i can be a passenger. as long as the air bag doesn't deploy.

scoreboard to date for those who are turning in late: sigmoid colon gone. 2/3 of rectum gone. smile remains in tact.

got the staples out of the stomach area friday. no swim suit centerfolds anytime soon for yours truly. but if you get an old video of bride of frankenstein you will get a pretty good idea of the handywork.

and now it is on to the tumor board.

tumor board?

conjures some interesting images. kind of a stock exchange for cancers. buy low. sell high. as far as i can tell, my surgeon will take the pathology results before a group of surgeons and oncologists who will then opine on future course of treatment.

i may be a bit skeptical knowing that there is a financial motivator in approving chemo and radiation. and no down side to the board. but off we will go, and the results will be shared with me at my next appointment on the 28th.

i'll find out about air travel to luxembourg at the same time.

i remain optomistic that neither treatment will be necessary. and extremely grateful that i am healing and have avoided a colostomy bag and a more dire prognosis to date.

i will continue to send updates to everyone and appreciate all of the ongoing thoughts and best wishes. it is a tough process, but it all could have been so much worse.

after all, i didn't buy that scenic lot in iceland.

i'll take taxes

nothing certain but death and taxes?

needless to say, i am paying my taxes today with a smile.

the alternative really sucks. no one on one with the grim reaper for me, but that hospital pork loin and jello made things real enough so that i am not about to complain about sending money to washington this year. and i think i'll skip the whining next year as well.

one bright side of the birther movement and intellectual heavyweights like michelle bachman is that there aren't lots of undecideds out there these days.

everyone has a politician they can detest. and they are proud of it. not many people have pictures of rush limbaugh AND rachel maddow over their beds.

glenn beck and keith oberman are not going to prom together anytime soon.

and either sarah palin or tina fey will 30 rock your world, but not both.

but today i am feeling quite patriotic. this is arguably a day when being an american is toughest. unless you have something against hot dogs and fireworks in july.

but there has always been a price to pay for freedom. sending a check is the easy part. too many families have paid in dearer coin.

and my family pedigree goes back to a father and mother who sent me to montgomery alabama in 1965 when i was days away from my 17th birthday to see martin luther king speak at the biggest civil rights rally ever held in the south.

my country. may she always be right. but right or wrong, my country.

who knew that a guy who was at the washington monument in 1969 would still be weepy at times watching them play hail to the chief and seeing barak obama appear not carrying a tray of dishes. i don't delude myself into thinking that my friends all share my political philosophy. sometimes i'm ornery enough not to know what that philosphy is myself. but i'd like to think that today we can find something we can agree on.

scarlett says in that great southern accent, "death, taxes, and childbirth--there's never a convenient time for any of them." if we can survive an inconvenince like the civil war we should be able to prefer taxes today to death. no matter what the political commentators say. i know that it will be an easy vote for me. and i can't say that very often.

these figures caught their interest

let's hear it for family values.

you can't have reached my age without having listened to republican claims that their party is the sole source for all things clean and pure in this country.

by implication, democrats were supporters of fornication, smut, and regulary lunched with satan.

needless to say, i am a democrat.

that was before marc foley, governor sanford, a few wayward senators, and any number of sanctimonious stone casters were found with industrial size quantities of viagara. you had to give them credit for being sincere when they said that it was time to get aroused about extramarital sex.

but hiking the appalachian trail has now taken a back seat to the study of rnc expense accounts.

forget the private jets and limos. ignore the fancy hotels. but the spending of two grand for a visit to a private club just is too good to pass up.

accounts of the evenings entertainment included topless women being ridden with bits in their mouths.

not an evening where the wife and kids are going to be invited.

what jay leno described as the republican idea of a stimulus plan.

others indicated that the republicans were interested in whipping the economy into shape. or reining in spending.

i say neigh.

this horsing around should stop.

the performers on stage did have health insurance.

but let's not beat a dead horse.

after all, they fired the woman who approved the expenditure.

apparently someone at the republican national committee has an ironic sense of humor.

and michael steele is back as the butt of late night comedy.

john edwards is so relieved.

but you can't feel too sorry for the republicans.

something about glass houses and all that.

but you do have to hope somewhere that tiger woods is a democrat.

does the sun wear nikes?

i grew up addicted to poetry. it just stayed in my head and wouldn't leave.

it's not impressive when trying out for the tennis team to leap into a shakespeare sonnet, and romancing someone with the lovesong of j. alfred prufrock is not as effective as strong alcohol (something about the evening stretched out against the sky like a patient etherized upon a table might be the problem).

but the good thing is that i can usually find some inspiration for most any situation. even when i don't know exactly what the situation is.

i have a ct scan scheduled for tomorrow. meet the doctor on wednesday. discuss sigmoidoscopy. that will determine if there is a recommendation for immediate surgery (good news) or chemo and radiation (the equivalent of hitting your drive out of bounds on a par 3).

i am not expecting that we will be featuring dylan thomas doing "do not go gentle into that good night" at anytime soon on this website. but even robert frost had to debate whether the world would end in fire or ice.

so i will come back to one line of poetry that seems to give me proper perspective and motivation at the same time.

"if we cannot make our sun stand still, least we shall make him run."

that philosophy just seems right to me. i love a good challenge. i'm active and still running and playing tennis pretty much every day. no change in appearance or attitude. no symptoms of any kind. so don't expect me to go around with my shoulders drooping and head down looking like eeyore in winnie the pooh.

life is like a good massage. you just don't want it to stop.

but unlike joshua, i do not expect to disrupt the journey of the sun, or slow its progress. but i can certainly require that he huff and puff a bit if he wants to keep up with me. so phase one will be that the sun enrolls in camp stern.

most of my friends who exercise with me know that phrase. run 5 miles. three sets of tennis. walk 18 holes of golf. hop on your bike. and end the day with a softball game. those used to be known as slow days at camp stern.

but the theory works even if you don't have an athletic bone in your body. make that sun run by getting as much pleasure out of life as you possibly can. including the pleasure of helping others.

sound corny? hedonistic? religious?

not to me. time's winged chariot is always closer than we would like. so enjoying the people you love and finding pleasure at every opportunity just seem to make sense.

which brings me to my dilemna. phase two of fighting cancer requires that common sense triumph over fun. i am not much of a poker player, but i know you don't throw away a royal flush even if the building is on fire, and that you can toss in a losing hand. my cards that i toss will include one of my greatest pleasures: food. not all food. but the baby back ribs, t-bone steaks, and cheeseburgers in paradise are going to be replaced by lots of arugala and bok choi.

banana cream pie and chocolate eclairs will appear only in the historic archives section of the stern house. but if i have the willpower to ignore a fresh napoleon slice, i can handle almost anything.

i am not certain that pizza and prime rib have anything to do with getting cancer. but i am willing to try things that are not in the woo woo category to get better. and if that means eating more asparagus and fresh greens than a rabbit, i'll give it a try. and joy is a closet vegetarian, so she will make all of this with enough style that i will not have to surrender all of my anticipation of dinner as a coming attraction. toss in a little baking soda and hydrogen peroxide and i am downright new age. i don't want to make the sun's job any easier. i'll do what i can to add quantity and quality to my years. and if i find that the deck is stacked against me at a later time, i will consider an all chicago dogs diet. with pork chops for breakfast and a steady stream of krispy kreme and dunking donuts being injected intervenously into my body.

not all that different from what i used to eat anyway.

and i can always add a pair of sunglasses.

ask alice

i went to underland saturday afternoon.

and alice went along (alice the minicooper, that is).

apparently i wan't alone.

about 8 zillion other people have shelled out the money to put ridiculous looking sunglasses on their heads in a dark movie theater and sit there for two hours watching the forces of cheshire cat and caterpillar versus a deck of cards.

and the funny things was that it was worth it.

let me digress. i will watch almost anything with johnny depp in it. although i really couldn't do better than about half of the last two pirates movies even if they were in the caribbean (or disney world?).

don juan de marco, chocolat, edward scissorhands.

he's had some bizarre roles. remember gilbert grape?

but he knows how to entertain. and not just with a pretty face.

but the movie would have earned the value of a ticket even without mr. depp. (i just might not have been there).

visually stunning. incredible animation. and the mix of real actors and animated ones was pulled off flawlessly.

i am old enough to remember when just animation was considered amazing. carbon dating (is that like e-harmony?) will show that i missed snow white and the original alice by a few years. but fantasia was probably around my time. although i know all of them by either wonderful world of disney or video cassettes.

the current alice is darkly fun and has a nice plot of good versus evil and a pox on the aristocracy and boring lives.

not exactly original themes, but there is a certain pleasure in watching the transition of alice from milktoast to joan of arc.

and the 3-d does turn underland into wonderland, expecially at the end of the movie.

i'm not a big technology fan. and i do not expect to own a 3-D television set in my lifetime just to watch cheers reruns and an occassional sports event, let alone hardball and rachel maddow.

but i grudgingly have to admit that it made avatar and alice slightly better.

nothing succeeds like excess. so you will now have lots of bad movies with mediocre 3-D technology trying to jump on the bandwagon.

but back to the wonderland. and what i consider to be the most important underlying political statement.

the most memorable moment of the original movie (i won't give away anything in the new one) was the mad-hatter tea party. a bunch of crazy people doing crazy things, without sense or reason.

sound familiar?

we have our own tea party now. not based on the boston celtics fans celbrating by tossing the british tea into the ocean, but by those emulating the white rabbit and his friends in downtown wonderland. obama is not a citizen. homosexual behavior causes floods and war dead. send the minorities back where they came from.

it's late. it's late. for a very important date.

unfortunately that date is the dark ages.

that wonderfully nostalgic period of ignorance and superstition.

in a land where ignorance is valued, sarah palin can be the queen of hearts.

the time has come, the walrus said, to talk of many things.

not all tea party members are crazies. but there are certainly a bunch of them who make the mad hatter look like the voice of reason.

so health care passes in a form no one is crazy about and the next election appears to be a bloodletting of epic proportion.

too bad i won't be there. i'm vacationing in wonderland.

just ask alice.

can't spell colonoscopy without a colon. period.

the sun is out. the rain has ended. new strings in my tennis racquet. all is well with the world.

well, let's not go that far.

beware the ides of march.

caeser would never have become an orange julius if he had listened to that soothsayer.

so when the time came for me to schedule my colonoscopy 12 years after the recommended date, i had little trouble accepting the march 15 date.

i'm not really worried about the results. my health is excellent. i actually went to see a doctor who is not a pediatrician for the first time and the general state of the ship was sound (although i still need to make it to a dermatologist to get yelled at for my attempts to become an aztec sun worshipper).

but the colonoscopy will be monday. not really optional, since the joys of a proctological exam not only produced embarrassment, but an abrupt command from the doctor to get a colonoscopy now since there was a finding of blood in the stool.

probably nothing. but while i have become used to accepting what fate winds up and delivers to home plate i see no reason to thumb my nose at her either.

the procedure is a snap. since my insurance company is not covering this i feel i have been pretty well reamed already, so whatever further intrusion is necessary will be minimal.

but i must admit that i am dreading the day before.

if you have had the procedure, or read dave barry's great column on the subject, no explanation is really needed. suffice it to say that you are required to flush your system with the equivalent of a bathtub filled with drano, and spend more time in the bathroom than moses spent in the desert (although it took netanyahu to subdivide it for new housing).

you take an oversized bottle of industrial strength laxative and mix with half a gallon of gatorade (shaken, not stirred). then you drink the entire thing. but just for laughs you take four more pills and a bottle of citrate of magnesia. not exactly four chicago dogs and a pizza doused with red pepper, but pretty much the same result.

sound like fun? i didn't think so either.

i am well prepared with light reading for the room i am now calling the library. war and peace, the rise and fall of the third reich, james joyce ulysses, and half a dozen sudoku books.

sunday morning will be 2 hours of tennis and exercising poodle since she will probably not want to be anywhere near me once the process begins in earnest.

but i have a confession. my real apprehension is for a certain loss of innocence. a change in perception that shakes my very soul.

anyone who knows me realizes that my affection for food transcends common sense and well being. napoleon slices. baby back ribs. a rare steak the size of cleveland. and that's just the appetizers.

eating at a restaurant is a spiritual occassion for me. a holy pilgrimage to a place where people bring you whatever you request.

i have been thrown out of more buffets than charlie sheen has been ejected from bars. there is all you can eat, and all stern can eat. restaurants have learned the difference at their peril.

life has balanced my food excesses with my obsession for sports. a few hours of tennis translates into a nice bowl of spaghetti and sausage. a six mile run and i convince myself that dessert is a necessity. and i always remember that banana creme pie has that essential potassium to avoid cramping my calf (do not confuse with veal dishes).

it is sad that i would thumb through the sport's illustrated swimsuit edition just to get to the pictures of the restaurant adds. but that july centerfold of the prime rib was something else.

but not today. or yesterday. and certainly not tomorrow.

food is no longer your friend when you are striving towards a colon that has to be cleaner than the aegean stables.

i regret to say that nothing really sounds good when i know the prospects for sunday.

i might have to start fasting now.

i wish i had started in january.

all those nice products for the cleansing sitting on the same counter where my food is prepared.

even i can say no to peanut butter pie under those circumstances.

i can only hope that after monday i will get my will to eat back. i already am thinking what i will have for the celebratory meal on monday night.

but at my back i sometimes hear time's winged chariot drawing near. or in this case, the ghosts of laxatives past.

and the idea of extra hot panang curry somehow loses its luster when you remember the hours of toil spent in getting that colon ready for a spic and span commericial.

so i am weary and wary. is lime jello really all that awaits me in the future?

is life so dear as to be purchased at the price of a dinner of blueberry yogurt?

news at 11.

the mind has great properties of blocking out horrible past events.

but swilling down a jar of miralax and gatorade is not exactly foreplay to a hackney's burger with a loaf of onion rings.

so only one solution remains.

come visit. we'll hit a nice restaurant. life will begin anew. my appetite will be reborn.

or you can enjoy the saag paneer while i sip on a cup of junket.

how long can you tread water, noah?

they cancelled our final tennis match of the season yesterday.

not sure why. it was windy with a chance of showers.

but the wind wasn't a chicago wind. oh sure. a few of the local garbage cans have identification microchips so they can find their way home when the wind dies down, but it was more of a strong breeze.

and the showers never came. at least not during the afternoon.

and not really in the early evening. a strong drizzle at times accompanied by lighting and thunder. but you weren't going to get out the rubber ducky and go play on the front lawn.

but like health care, things got a bit more interesting as time went by. the roof was louder than the television. and more entertaining (although simon cowell felt that it needed more bass). a steady rain began to fall. somewhat rare for this time of year. after all, the sunshine state is more aptly named than republicans who believe in fiscal restraint). and our rains are anticipated fondly as an alternative to having to water the tropical jungle.

but the palms were going to need scuba gear. the rain continued during the night, and when i awakened this morning, i found a surprise.

our swimming pool in the back had moved to the front of the house. or more accurately cloned itself and was now present in both locations.

water everywhere. i thought i had fallen asleep and been moved onto a raft in the ocean.

okay. so there is some hyperbole here. after all, a real rain was during typhoon paka where we had 31 inches in one day.

but this was respectable. certainly enough to keep me from checking with my tennis partner to see if today's doubles match is on. but i may call the club and see if the clay has headed to the gulf of mexico.

but the good news (i realize this is questionable) is that it gives me time to write.

there hasn't been much in the news to laugh at lately. umless the strange sickness that is congrssman massa somehow makes you laugh instead of just feel ill. i'll leave him to glenn beck.

and when your insurance company tells you that they are not paying for your colonoscopy health care is not exactly the three stooges.

there was that nice magic display in israel where the government pulled the rug out from under vice president byden. but i prefer the marx brothers if i am looking for slapstick.

some may suggest (and who am i to disagree) that since both political parties are an enormous joke that humor is always present in d.c., except for the relief provided by a snow storm that does what the tea party folks can only dream of doing.

tennis will wait until tomorrow.

i will go find my rubber ducky. and my snorkel.

island tennis mon

the truth can now be told.

i always had a problem with tennis on st croix.

don't get me wrong.

i had incredible tennis partners and some of the nicest people anwhere laughing at my alleged serve and cursing my drop shots.

but how are you supposed to be serious about your game when you are playing on courts that overlook 3 beaches and the caribbean?

no matter how hard i tried to focus on that killer overhead that i hit only in my dreams i kept getting distracted by all of that sunshine and ocean.

i really miss those days. and the people.

not that playing in the mountains was all that shabby. after all, at 9000 feet above sea level i could almost see the fast serves of my opponents rocket past me. but the mountain views in places like crested butte, keystone, vail, aspen, telluride, and steamboat springs were certainly worth a few humiliating defeats.
and my endurance was usually good enough to have that thin air work to my advantage.

and happy tennis memories include indoor tournaments in grand junction, and my many friends in gunnison, montrose, and delta. and, of course, time with family in new smyrna beach, where runs on the beach and tennis matches were as much a necessity as the napoleon slices at mon delice.

but yesterday was certainly a treat.

i play on an old guy's team these days (although i had to play singles with a 14 year old the other day). and we play on clay, which was invented as a way of giving me a chance to return serves in my declining years.

and yesterday we had our match on sanibel island.

for those of you that don't know sanibel and captiva islands from doc ford books or playboy photo shoots, they are secret treasures close to my house which substitute for martha's vineyard if you are boycotting massachusetts after the last election. (okay--maybe not all that secret judging from yesterday's traffic).

one of the best shelling beaches anywhere. lots of money, but in a funky environment where you score points if you cruise the bike path on a one speed.
and great food. of course i would have to mention that.

i can't afford the $6 toll to get over the bridge, let alone a country club membership. but my team plays one match at home in cape coral one one at the home court of the other team.

so i have gotten to check out some swank locations in fort myers, bonita springs, estero, and two clubs on sanibel.

you don't waste a trip to sanibel just for tennis. there should be a beach appearance and food.

yesterday i had friends from steamboat springs visiting their son up in st pete. they wanted a road trip and came over for lunch. we met on sanibel and i fortified myself for my gruelling doubles tennis match by loading up on black beans and rice smothered in hot sauce along with shredded beef tacos drowned in hot sauce (i like variety in my use of spices).

the players on my team have become friends. several are younger, but my partner yesterday was 77 and covered the court better than i did.

and i was playing tennis on an island again. this time there was a large water hole on the 18th green to distract me rather than the ocean, but the club was called beach view, so you know the gulf of mexico isn't more than a threewood away (at least if you are tiger woods and not otherwise occupied). huge palms everywhere. it's a nice place to go when you know the white house is still digging out from their last snow disaster. (i am amazed that obama hasn't been blamed for the weather).

today i am back in cape coral for my 6th day of tennis in the last 7 days.

my foot is a bit sore, but the body is holding up for the most part.

all i need is more visitors.

i'll save up for the bridge to sanibel. just make sure you bring your racket.

vivaldi rocks

want to take a trip back in time?

hard to find a good time machine that is as reliable as a toyota these days. or a delorean.

but i was able to head back to the sixties wednesday just by driving 15 minutes over the bridge to fort myers.

and there were frankie valli and the four seasons.

no. we're not talking about a revival tour where the beach boys come out with a little deuce coupe walker.

this was the off broadway tour of "jersey boys."

what a treat. if you were from a good sized city and remember when you got your first mcdonalds franchise, you are going to love this music.

if you were a teenager in the early 60's you may legitmately be nostalgic about the music of your youth. and you are long past due for your colonoscopy and prostate exams.

i never did get giddy over the beatles. but i loved the four seasons.

i really wondered whether dawn would go away. and left confused about the burning question of if big girls cry or not.

i was as weird a young person as i am as an old codger. i loved classical music as a kid. ravinia was five minutes from my house and i could hear issac stern and itzakh perlman live for $2 if i didn't hop over the fence and see them for nothing.

hard to beat the chicago symphony for summer entertainment. so WLS was not always taking precedent over WFMT.

but i really got hooked on motown.

the four tops. temptations. smokey robinson really was a miracle.

there were others. driving into the city to "downtown" with the top off of the volkswagen convertible. willow weep for me would bring a tear or two. and you had to wonder if california girls really were that special if you were 16.

so the four seasons were part of my youth. both vivaldi's version and the 45 rpm. if you were hearing these on cassettes or cds you are a different generation.

so jersey boys was a nice nugget to find. if you haven't seen it, and you remember seeing burma shave signs on a road trip, catch it when it comes to a city near you.

it may not let you buy ibm and xerox for a few dollars a share. but it should bring a smile to your face. i know sami and my brother would have loved it. my dad would have frowned and put on vivaldi.

they were all with me as i watched. and that made it even more special.

especially with that colonoscopy to look forward to.

takes two to mango

"my garden is filled wiith papyas and mangos
jimmy buffet

"who stole all my mangos?"
mike stern's neighbor

yesterday was the fourth of july. but more significantly it was the celebration of mango melee. can you imagine, an island where they spend a whole day celbrating the mango. hard to imagine. quite inappropriate. i think it should last a week. the melee takes place at the botanical gardens. the botanical garden here is pretty much like the average st croix back yard but with signs on the trees and flowers identifying them. yards on st croix are spectacular, fending off the encroaching jungles waiting to overtake them. it is something of a norse mythology dilema. in the long run, the jungle wins (unless we overpopulate and pave the whole island). but in the meantime it's a glorious battle to see the brilliant green in battle with bright red flambouyants and purple bouganvilla. i skipped the mango eating competition this year. good thing. the winner consumed eight huge mangos in less time than it takes the rockies bullpen to blow a lead. it was ready, set, go, and the winner is ....... what made it even more amazing, however, is that adult contestants could use only one hand. several hundred people watching 10 people wearing garbage bags as formal wear trying to make a mango disappear. i suspect that the winner may have eaten the seeds. it was amazing how many things were made out of mangos. there is a mango dis, mango dat competition. i brought home mango chutney, mango jam, mango lip balm, had mango smoothey's, and admired the mango barbeque sauce and mango soap. i passed on the mango tennis racquet and bathing suits. there was also quite a bit of mango history. we learned that the actual fruit of temptation in the garden of eden was not the apple. in fact the ancient hebrew word for mango is kosherhotdog, which was mistakenly translated into the serpent's temptation of eve. it does make sense. who would have sacrificed paradise for an apple? but a ripe, juicy mango. that's another matter. also of historical interest was the legend of william's delight tell shooting the mango off of his son's head, and sir issac (fig) newton discovering gravity when a ripe mango plunked him on his noggin. i did have some difficulty when they referred to ty cobb as "the georgia mango," but some license is allowed at festival time. i have learned that there are a fair number of people who have mango allergies. i think next year it would be fun to have a competition on who can have the most severe breakout from peeling and eating mangos. i'll bring the videocamera, you bring the calamine lotion. following the melee it was fireworks on the beach. shorts and a tee shirt were more than ample. they always are unless you are in a government building where the rigid conservation of resources means that the airconditioner is never under 40 degrees. nor is it much over. time for lunch. should i try the mango lasagna or just walk over to my neighbor's and tap the tree? you'll never know.

the sky is falling

okay chicken little.

maybe the sky isn't falling.

but something is certainly falling from the sky.

as i type this from sunny florida the tv coverage of the great super bowl commercials of 1978 has been interrupted by visual images of washington d.c. under attack. 18 inches of snow in washington. 20 in baltimore.

sodom and gomorrah beat the point spread compared to these cities.

osama bin laden is ranting in his cave because he can't find out how to make it snow.

but d.c. has been brought to its knees by mother nature.

unless there is another explanation.

i don't want to go all biblical on you, but if noah built an ark to survive the sins of his time, don't you think that there has to be some punishment from above for the ineptitude in the house and senate?

the almighty may be known for patience and understanding. but if his (or her) health insurance premiums have been going up like mine have, you might want to buy a snow plow.

as republicans and democrats name call and have public food fights with less gravitas than the average kindergarten class you begin to understand why they call it recess when they are not in session.

i have a better chance of getting a tree cutting job on pandora than these clowns have of passing constructive legislation.

maybe the israelis and the iranians could provide counseling to the elephants and the donkeys on how to get along.

elections have failed to produce results.

so divine retribution is certainly a possibility.

after all, punishment with unbelievable cruelty is not unheard of.

you don't think reality tv is a coincidence, do you?

right.

like someone other than lucifer would have come up with jon and kate and jersey shore?

and now it is snowing in d.c. with more ferocity than christmas in wales.

not the first storm of the season.

this is the whitest season in washington history.

you have to think that barak obama gets some chuckle out of that.

if they knew what the weather was going to be the people would have elected bing crosby as president.

although a guy with a chicago winter background was not a bad choice.

not even phil the groundhog saw this one coming. it's a bit hard to convince people on global warming when they are building an igloo for spring.

but when aspen starts sending people to d.c. to explore snow importation plans you realize that something is amiss.

other areas have been effected.

but no place has suffered like washington d.c.

even scott brown has had to put clothes on to serve as senator.

predicting snow is more reliable than the brake system on a prius.

take the hint congress.

create jobs, fix social security, reform medicare, clean up the air, reduce taxes, and bring world peace.

or you're going to need a bigger shovel.

running with poodle on cruzan thyme

it was the time of morning when stephen king huddled under his covers and wrote his scariest material. first light eerily was peering around the low lying clouds. a noise from behind. rushing footsteps gaining on me. suddenly at my heels and then speeding past. a voice from a man in a red cape fading from behind "wait for meeeeee."

but poodle was long gone.

it rained last night. it may have been one of those classics with thunder straight from thor's hammer and 4th of july lightning displays. we get those here. but i slept the sleep of the well exercised unemployed. a sound and peaceful journey, without concern about that brief that needed to be written. so i did not see or hear the rain.

fortunately, my 32 years as an attorney allowed me to apply the basics of circumstantial evidence: the ground was wet, there were additional gungaloos squishing under my feet when i got out of bed, and the man next door was putting nails in the ark while a strange group of animals looked on impatiently.

so it must have rained. rain means two things on st croix. it fills your cistern (this is a facility into which rain water goes, not the relative that you are not allowed to date until she is 14 in olathe). and it produces puddles. puddles and poodles go together in my memory like george bush and larry, moe, and curly. if they had puppies they would be puddledoodles. but i approached my run with glee knowing that i had entertainment for the morning. i was not to be disappointed. at the start of our run, there is a house with a yard the size of yellowstone. it has several dips which produce small lakes (no catamarans allowed) which attract sea birds. and puddles and sea birds attract the poodle. she races after the birds like an f-16. she runs through the puddles sending spray everywhere, like a version of flash dance meets lassie come home. the birds taunt her, waiting until she is thoroughly annoyed until they waddle skyward at a pace that tantalyses her. i am convinced this is a symbiotic relationship. poodle loves the reckless abandon of the chase. the birds find it a convenient excuse to practice their take offs and landings. i am quite convinced that a typical bird conversation is "it's 6:30. that damned poodle is late. if she's not here in five minutes i'm blowing off the exercise and eating the last eclair."

the dog is ebony black. the birds are white as snow used to be. the field is a dazzling green that was created just to set off the contrast of colors. and the speed is such that i need a video camera to do it justice. you cannot be depressed when you have a poodle performing for your entertainment. she runs next to me when she is tired, joined at the hip. but she always saves a spurt or two for those last few birds. she'll never catch one, and barks loudly if she thinks they're dawdling to make sure they react. but it is a joyful relationship.

adding to today's entertainment was a whippet that has been too shy to play. he lives along our running-walking route, and is controlled on a very large lot by an electronic collar. for the first time today, he succummed to poodles charms. he chased poodle and played vigorously. poodle then turned on him and chased him from one end of the property to the other, back and forth. i thought the dog was in fear and would expire on the spot. but as soon as poodle stopped chasing, back came the dog and chased poodle. ooh la la strikes again. and all this was after a 4 mile run, 2 mile walk, and the pursuit of numerous sea birds.

but today i am supposed to be writing about cruzan thyme. my neighbor grows vegetables and herbs. these end up being tossed into the pot to assist in dishes such as spaghetti or waffles? fresh lemongrass just gets called lemongrass. but my favorite is always called cruzan thyme. "i'm putting cruzan thyme in the soup." i always laugh when i hear this. because cruzan time is what st croix is all about. everything runs (or fails to) on cruzan time. you either smile, or you leave. it's that simple. if waiting in line for stamps for a week bothers you, go back to new york city. people move here to get away from the rat race, and then they want to import rats.

in new york we had this. in colorado we did it this way. no one here cares. life moves at a rhythm all its own. i love to write about it. i think it is appropriate to satirize those aspects of culture and government that are so much fun. but i love and accept it and don't have illusions about changing it. you don't need a watch down here. people arrive when they arrive, and if the food is cold, so be it. parades start when the mood hits them. an appointment is more of a suggestion for a time.

a friend on guam said it was a place "where manana did not carry the same compelling sense of urgency that it does in mexico." st croix is not up to the high standards of guam. and who cares. i have the soul of an islander. and of a mountain person. the devil has not offered me anything in exchange for what he obviously considers a defective product. but my heart is with poodle and those sea birds.

running on the beach on a non-snowy evening

my favorite place to run is alongside the ocean. there. i've said it. i haven't deserted my beloved mountains for some tempting water and sand mistress. i will continue to hike in the cool mountain air anyday compared to the most beautiful island hikes in high humidity and occassional mud. but running should be next to water, and no water is more tempting than when accompanied by beach and waves (it is pretty hard to run alongside a kayak down the colorado, after all).

some of my most memorable, longest, and enjoyable runs have been on a beach. back in the late '70's my brother moved to florida. he lived on the water, 3 blocks from the beach and ocean. these are the legendary beaches near daytona, where sharks pose a serious threat which is secondary to the prowling pontiac which shares the beach with runners and sunbathers. fortunately, the beaches around new smyrna are the same width (around low tide) as the state of texas. kick off your shoes, point yourself north, and you can run until you reach canada. or so it seems. when samantha was born my parents and i stayed at a cottage on the beach about 5 miles from my brother's. it was around my birthday. i remember setting out and losing track of everything except the sand and the surf (there were no distracting brunettes at 6:30 a.m.). soon i was at my brother's house. no surprise, he was sleeping. i turned around without stopping and headed back to the cottage. 10 miles without ever feeling like i was running.

i bought my dad a tennis racket that day. just because. it felt good to finally give something back. such an idyllic time. within months he had been killed by two errant semi-trucks. but i remember every detail from his lying in the hammock at al's, enjoying that racquet, and eating as many calories as a daily run up to 10 miles would allow. i cannot think of new smyrna without thinking of running. that terrible run in pounding rain after the service at al's funeral. lightning and thunder everywhere, and the rain matching my mood and tears. wonderful, joyful runs with my incredible niece and nephew. leisurely days seeing how far sami could run on the beach. and her patient, anxious to please personality walking for half an hour in one direction and then returning while i ran for the same time. remarkably, we ended up together and had time to laugh.

perfect sand and a perfect beach. i have found times in the caribbean where the loveliness is impossible to accept. up and back on a half moon beach in cane garden bay without shoes for an hour and a half. the same at little dix in virgin gorda where i was dropped while a friend went diving and entertained the guests with my back and forth run on the half mile beach where the room rate was ten times more than where i was staying.

my favorite is when my toes are in the water and the sand is firm enough for me to splash but not sink. visions of chariots of fire but i have a better tan. whether in guam, new caledonia, or martha's vineyard i have had flights of fancy as the waves with "tremulous cadence slow" match my 9 minute pace.

but the caribbean is special. and new smyrna still has my heart and memories.

which brings me to my current life on st croix. i can run by the ocean on a daily basis again. my knee is not healed (of course it has not been seen by a doctor, either), but i am lured to the waves like a lemming and stubborn as a republican on stem cell research. there does not have to be any logic to it. the waves are there, and so am i. i wear my shoes because this is not new smyrna or cane garden bay. but the smile is there, and my running companion doesn't mind that she is twice as fast as long as she can use her paws to chase the sea birds that like to torment her. i would trade it all for that cottage with the family intact, or for a nice walk-run with sami. but my running lets me remember. and eat that extra piece of banana cream pie.

who asked for this?

you remember the old toyota commercial. "you asked for it, you got it, toyota."

bet they regret that one these days.

people didn't ask for the current problems, but they got it anyway.

kind of like a sexually transmitted disease for cars.

if this was chevy it wouldn't even get a mention.

but toyota has had that reputation for dependability that makes big ben look like a timex.

truth is, i always wanted a toyota.

in the 70's i couldn't afford a corolla. later i would chose an xterra over an fj cruiser because of cost. and thankfully the del sol was just a better buy for the money than the little toyota convertible of its day.

but each time i thought i would be a toyota owner. and it turned out otherwise.

i guess i just didn't want to ask for it that badly.

and now toyota is the new edsel. people are more interested in getting warts than a prius. a recall? unheard of.

it doesn't help when the company spokesperson comes on and is wearing ceremonial hari kari gear.

i just think they will have to rethink the commercials.

and i do have a part time solution.

they can always borrow my honda del sol. with 240,000 miles i can say that i got what i asked for.

don't ask don't tell the supreme court to relocate

i was asked to write two columns. sex in the military (ssshhhhhh) and the supreme court going down the rabbit hole in their decision to allow monopoly money to be used to finance political campaigns.

sorry, but the sun is out, temperatures should be around 80 today, and my computer is inside the house. and my tennis racket is waiting.

so i will leave you to your own imagination as to how free speech became an excuse for a "buy your own senator" promotion by big money interests.

the abandonment of don't ask, don't tell is pretty easy.

only heterosexual males belong in the military. like george bush serving with glory in the national guard.

after all, alexander the great is reputed to have leanings towards men and he never went anywhere with his military career. conquer the world? sure. but you never heard about a big bowl victory in the army-persia football game.

and do you really expect that will and grace are going to serve in the military with the current design of the uniforms? i don't think so. won't we at least have to add a little color?

we are still suffering from the decision to let women serve. joan of arc may have had a moment or two, and zenobia did okay against the romans. but the israeli army allows women and everyone knows what a failure they have been. many a syrian has made fun of how ineffective the israeli women are. of course they usually have a tank parked on them at the time of their merriment.

sex has no place in the military. that is why our troops have practiced abstinence in the past so successfully. just check out the local strip clubs or hooters when the fleet comes in. no military people at those places when church and pure thought are available as alternatives.

people have to prove their worth to get to serve in such exotic locales as afghanistan or iraq. let gay people get the chance to join up and it is only a matter of time before blacks and jews want to join. and then where will we be?

let's get the focus back where it belongs. think john wayne. who cares if an interpreter speaks the local language as long as they don't want to marry someone of the same sex in iowa.

and if we need a few extra troops, let's draft the majority opinion side from the supreme court and send them to kabul. and if people want to know where they have gone, i have the perfect response: don't ask, don't tell.

gungaloos and centipedes

the local paper does not publish on holidays (or mondays), so i thought i would be helpful and provide some potential articles.

WHAT"S AT THE MOVIES

star wars does dallas premiered last weekend. the plot involves a nice human being who is tempted by the dark side to don the black robes of the dark side. corrupted by the power this presents he loses all compassion for humanity and becomes a total egomaniac acting with disregard for reason and without a conscience. and after his career as a judge, darth vader does some other things as well.

SPORTS

while some of you with limited reception were forced to settle for the french open this weeik, the big tennis news was the tennis tournament at the buccaneer. it is fascinating trying to do tournaments since the categories are open and b. since they won't let me play b you find a class of players ranging from just above mediocre (which would be me), to just under sensational (which would be whoever is playing against me). as usual,` the best part of my tennis game is my partner selection. i had excellent partners in the men's and mixed (no singles category), but not strong enough to handle the burden of carrying me to the end. in men's doubles we lost 6-0, 6-0 to the club pro. it wasn't as close as the score made it sound. in mixed, we managed to survive three rounds and lose in the finals to the club pro again 6-3, 6-3. no one confused me with roger federer, but the pro did discuss with me the idea of being a part time assistant, a tennis pro in the caribbean! and they say fantasies don't come true (michael jackson aside). who knows. i told him i thought i would have to learn how to play before i could teach others, but it might be fun.

SCIENCE AND NATURE FOR A THOUSAND, PLEASE

in the creepy, crawly category we have centipedes, gungaloos, and michael jackson. centipedes are nasty. their bite is dangerous and their appearance is hideous. they are quick and live forever. i had one in my sink one day. after drowning him for an hour or so, i dropped his lifeless body in a cereal box which i put outside (being too lazy to walk it to the outside garbage). when i went to drop it into the garbage the next morning, out crawled the centipede. i handled it very maturely. i proceeded to stomp on it with my dress shoes (i was working back then) several times. this seemed to annoy it. only after wearing myself out to exhaustion doing what appeared to be some bizarre version of the macarena did i inflict enough damage to put what was left of the creature into the trash. fortunately, centipedes are not an everyday visitor to the stern household. the same cannot be said of gungaloos. they are difficult to describe. usually green in color they are a wormlike creature about two inches in length that seems to have as its sole purpose in life getting into your house and dying. it is not uncommon to sweep 20 or 30 of these guys up in a day. sometimes in an hour. their bodies turn to dust shortly after (or before) death. they aren't much more lively alive than they are dead, but they do like to crawl around ceilings, walls, clothes, and into the bed upon occassion. when it rains you might find a thousand gungaloos on the road when you are running. i do not know why they try and get to the other side. the other thing that is of interest is that if you touch a moving gungaloo they immediately take on a death like character (this may not be an act) and do not move. this same characteristic is known to take place in humans after several years of marriage. in the somewhat warmier and cuddlier category (no more michael jackson jokes, please), we have the mongoose. these animals received some level of fame and respectability in rikki tikki tavi. as you may recall, they are devastatingly effective against cobras. of course, there are no cobras or other snakes on st croix. but there are rats. the mongoose, previously unknown to the island, was imported to deal with the rat population. of course the only predator to the mongoose is the chevy convertible. and rats scurry around at night, and the mongoose has only day jobs. so both the rats and the mongoose are able to thrive without interacting. seems to be about as effective as bringing me in as a weapons prosecutor.

LOCAL NEWS

the head of the chamber of commerce resigned after allegations were made about sums of money disappearing under her watch. she was unavailable for comment when contacted at her new home on the french riviera.

NATIONAL NEWS

bad things happened in iraq.

you will have to supply your own comics and crossword. i don't work on memorial day either.

st thomas versus st croix

you can't spell caribbean without a sea. you can't spell ocean without the grating roar of pebbles which the waves draw back and fling at their return up the high strand (my apologies to mathew arnold).

some thoughts while watching the sun come up over the ocean on my walk-run this morning. it is difficult to look out at the ocean without developing into something of a philosopher. changing appearance without colagen. dead still one moment, eight foot waves the next. a constancy that makes the events on this darkling plain where ignorant armies clash by night seem much more trivial (apologies to arnold the pig and the colorado rockies who seem to prefer to go gentle into that good night (games). my morning routine has included a walk or run (or both) daily pre 7 a.m. not everyone's idea of retirement i'm sure, but it has been quite pleasant as well as beautiful.

speaking of beauty, at the risk of losing paying readers, i must again expound upon the sight of the jet black standard poodle streaking across grass so green that ireland is put to shame in chase of the various sea birds that have settled down for a grass and bug buffet. her grace and athleticism in pursuit of tennis balls on land, ocean, and swimming pool are the things that dreams are made of, but nothing compares to the unfettered joy of her racing back and forth between the birds and me as i waddle down the road at the pace of the local slugs. if i ever figure out how to use modern technology i will try and capture this experience on film for those who have not yet figured out plane schedules to st croix to observe in person. it is quite the sight.

it has occurred to me from some of the questions posed by readers (not the one that started "why do you waste your time writing this s__t) that some of the mainlanders do not understand or appreciate the relationship between st thomas (known to locals as stt) and st croix (known to locals as irving r. feldman, but i will use the initials stx). to fully comprehend the situation you must read two great historical works. the first is cinderella, aka this stupid glass slipper is not as comfortable as a birkenstock, or my prince has come, but it doesn't mean he cares if i do. the second is romeo and juliet, a play adapted from the musical west side story. stx is cinderella. she has beauty, and has married well by joining up with prince hovensa, who owns the largest oil refinery in the western hemisphere. unfortunately, stt has taken over most of her money and refuses to give her control of her own life and sends her off to clean the toilet bowls and scrub floors while stt goes down to the docks and hustles cruise ships as they disgourge thousands of sun burned tourist types in search of the perfect over priced t shirt. the relationship between the two islands makes the montagues and capulets look like best friends headed out for a kentucky fried chicken picnic with pina colada chasers. money is generated on st croix and spent on st thomas. even though each island has 7 senators, virtually all government business (and spending) is located on stt. thus the discrepancy of 15 prosecutors on stt, while stx has 4, all waiting for better options such as ice berg spotter on the titanic. the population size of the two islands is virtually identical, and stx is almost 3 times larger. but stt is like the local bully and keeps taking the lunch money from stx. there is an independence movement afoot on stx, but it is not looked on kindly by stt. this is made even more interesting since the family names on both islands are identical, and one would think that they would get along. but the situation seems to get worse instead of better, although promises of change are an expected part of the dialogue and every administration is brought in with great promise for finally giving stx its due, only to give it the shaft instead. any resemblance between this and george bush as president is for all of you to figure. but it makes for an interesting political landscape, and at least partially explains the worn out expressions on government employees on stx.

i do not believe in making social commentary without offering solutions. i am therefore recommending the forced relocation of every individual on stt to new jersey beginning immediately. the governor could leave first, as a positive example, followed by the 15 senators. the cricket team could stay. cruise ships docking in stt will be confiscated and sold to the polish navy. in order to assure that the transition goes smoothly, i will establish personal head quarters at the lovely beach at megan's bay. send coconut and banana rum please (another product of stx). enough for now. there is one bright spot. gas is 70 cents a gallon less on stx. now it only costs me a thousand dollars to fill my jeep cherokee. i miss the del sol. if you can't send cash, send gas coupons. _________________________________________________________________

the first writing from st croix

it has occurred to me that if i wish to describe myself as a writer that it is incumbent upon me to occassionally write something. my most recent works seem to be limited to a change of address form and and a grocery list with a kurt vonnegut influence. i have questioned whether these actually qualify as literary works. but after seeing recent screen play adaptations for movies, i am sure that my attempts are legitimate. after all, even the rubiyat of omar khayam may have started as a grocery list. a loaf of bread, a jug of wine ...... who knows? and even shakespeare in richard the third "a horse, my kingdom for a horse." might have been on his to do list right above "bring home prune danish for lady ann."

i may not be writing, but i have been thinking about writing. it just seems to be one of those things where effort is involved (although see reference above to recent screenplays). and effort is definitely more difficult to generate here in the caribbean. it is not a coincidence that many of our "great literary works" were written in cold places. put shakespeare in the british virgins and the dialogue would be "should i write hamlet today or go to the beach with this mango that just fell off of the tree." the world would have been a poorer place indeed if it were not for those primitive conditions and no mtv.

now i realize that i probably offended the southernors amongst you who hold with faulkner as america's great contributer to literature. and i do have a fondness for patrick conroy. but you must remember that while the weather is warm in the south, you are not allowed to do any activities except for occassional recreational lynchings and cross burnings. and when you do go out, you must laden yourself with seven layers of clothings, includings petie coats, girdles, umbrellas, hats, and high heels. and that's just for the men. no wonder a night out wearing just a white sheet had such appeal. but the point is that writing was a possibility there since there was nothing else to do and computer games had not yet been invented.

but here on st croix, the opportunity for distracting activities are numerous. there is a hamock next to the pool. i have spent enough time in the hamock that i now think my bed sways back and forth. and since hurricane season has not yet begun, i am probably wrong. in the last few weeks i have played softball, golf, tennis, hiked, snorkeled, walked, ran and went swimming, although not simultaneously. playing softball with fins might improve my style, however.the point is that in a place in which doing nothing is a national pasttime and socially acceptable, there are just too many things to do. add movies, guitar, books, and the ever present and remarka ble poodle and it seems that sitting down at the computer for more than determining how the rockies lost that evening is just not likely to occur. but i will try and be more diligent since it is possible that at least one person out there remotely cares about what i am doing. if you find out, please let me know immediately.

for those keeping track (and not wanting slim shady's telephone number (or prison number), i am still esconsced (i haven't figured out spell check on this computer) on st croix and enjoying my career as a writer (otherwise known as unemployed). friday was my last official day of work and i was on vacation. we did hire a young woman for the office who has only been waiting five months for her nopa to get signed by the governor. and then after she had moved here and not been able to work for over a month, the nopa was signed and she began working. but they haven't done the paperwork to allow her to actually practice law yet, so she watches and thinks about lawyering. her fiancee, who is also a lawyer and desperately wants to be a prosecutor has been deemed unworthy of working at the high professional standards of the st croix office. so he will take the bar and get paid twice as much in private practice. two of the four remaining lawyers will be gone in the next few months, so it should be interesting. last one out turn off the lights. my job search is a lot like my writing. i find it more productive and rewarding to think about it than to actually engage in the activity (no sex jokes here, please). i did have a delightful discussion with the people who are in charge of one of our private academy schools. very bright and pleasant young folk with a daughter who is going into 11th grade. i expect they will offer something at wages somewhat less than poverty level. but i do have the option of taking poodle and dark sun glasses downtown and selling pencils to supplement my income. or i could do mediation and work with lawyers. please send pencils. i am still looking at private practice with jock back in montrose as my most likely and logical alternative, but he has been insistant that i buy back into the rockies tickets if i return. and he has threatened to play golf with me. there are some other government lawyer possiblilities out there, and i am not saying no to any propositions (except slim shady). i just am not saying yes. after all, the sun is out, the ocean beckons. i have been running daily for two weeks without significant knee pain, tennis tournament this weekend (although i probably won't participate in the davis cup try outs that were advertised in the newspaper. i don't see that happening on the mainland). so keep writing and i will always reply. for those of you who don't reply, i will delete you from my mailing list and sell your e-mail addresses to some appreciative business that specializes in penis enlargements, low mortgage rates, or this really great new weight loss plan. oops. i forgot that you already get those emails. and some of you may prefer such e-mails to mine. i love being classified as junk mail. it is a step up.

i am off to motor vehicle today to get my car registration updated. this may be a novel in its own right. this yearly process which is frequently done by mail in those jurisdictions not needing to employ nieces and nephews at motor vehicle, is one of the dreaded "you can't get there from here activities on the island." people pay folks $50 to go get their registrations for them. these ads appear in the paper regularly. it is not just that they are slow. it is a challenge to get there on a day when everyone (or someone) is working and will actually acknowledge your presence. if you don't believe me, please reread "don't stop the carnival." it is historical fact that when columbus landed on st croix he went to get the registration for his boat and never found the east indies. jimmy hoffa was last seen registering his limo on st croix. amelia erhardt stopped here to register her plane. you get the idea. so if i end up in limbo, plese feed the dog and water the plants, or the other way around. and leave the lights on for me, please.

didn't the blog eat chicago?

kicking and screaming, i have entered the latter years of the 20th century.

i have had a number of friends suggest i do things with my writing. most of their suggestions were anatomically impossible or just plain mean. i will get a colonoscopy before i start storing my columns in that area, thank you.

but a few of you seem to like them. and in today's world, that means creating a blog.

after all, i probably have over 500 writings on such profound areas as mango festivals on st croix, to clyde the elk and his alleged murder charges in scenic craig, colorado.

who would pass on a chance to read the outdated obituary of kurt vonnegut or a review of the acquittal of michael jackson at his last child molestation trial? there probably hasn't been any publicity about jackson since that trial, has there?

the bad news is that it might make me write more.

or it could just let me post old writings when i am too lazy to come up with something clever.

and it may be that the general public has less interest in the day to day activities of the practically perfect poodle than the rest of you.

no big surprise that i named the site after the ppp. she not only is my greatest inspiration for writing material, but usually is lying here at my feet while i type. hard to ignore that level of loyalty.

my motives are pure. i wish to provide some amusement and occassional insight, and to become rich beyond my wildest dreams.

and i do have some wild dreams. although they rarely involve money.

so now you can check out the happy poodle. for at least a day or two. if i hear too many complaints or just find a total lack of interest i will either retire or go back to the old e-mail approach.

but i would love to see you here. and feel free to respond.

i somehow feel unclean doing this. so make the sacrifice worthwhile. do not let this embrace of technology be in vain.

poodle needs the support to be happy. i'll settle for cash or dinner.

the avatar diet

i went to avatar saturday. it may have changed my life.

not the plot, which was entertaining enough, although a bit predictable.
nor was it the technology of making a movie that is certainly well beyond my powers to comprehend. and it wasn't the theme, although it was interesting to see people rooting (pun intended) for the trees over the military.

it was the hidden message that most people who saw the film missed. the potential for the new avatar diet. it could make millions.

didn't see that coming? i agree that it was a bit subtle. but you couldn't miss how thin everyone was in the movie. it helps being 12 feet tall to be sure, but it was pretty certain that they were downright skinny. after all, in a very expensive movie they certainly didn't waste lots of money on clothing allowance.

and what did they eat? the only clue was the shooting of the antelope thing. obviously a high protein source. and that's it. no wheat fields or rice paddies. no munching on veggies. it was pretty apparent that they weren't going to be cutting down those trees for tilling the soil.

so meat remains as the apparent life force for these folks. dr. atkins would be so proud.

and no one looked unhealthy. no heart attacks from clogged arteries. no need for high cholesterol medication. not a single moment of the film wasted on health insurance reform.

just skinny people on an all protein diet. throw in the high exercise quota and you have my dream life. run everywhere and charcoal broil a porterhouse at night.

the movie will make somewhere in the neighborhood of a zillion dollars. but the real money is in the marketing. avatar sipping cups. avatar action figures. a resurgance in bows and arrows.

so why not an avatar theme park and diet center? with americans fascination for quick weight loss plans how could it fail? spend your day swinging on vines and running across tree limbs and get rewarded with several pounds of steak.

i'm not sure how 3-d golf courses and tennis courts will work, but we will throw them in along with a nice lake or two for the swimmers in the group.

everyone will be blue with envy. maybe we can't make people taller, but we can slim them down and send them home with their own spear for those who can't run to the grocery store and back.

and then we will have avatar protein bars, avatar running shoes, avatar tree fertilizer. beats the heck out of practicing law. and i will need to have sigourney weaver as a consultant. not exactly a negative.

as usual, send all support and donations in cash to my website: payforstern'snewporsche.com.

i can't wait to have our new corporate headquarters.

all i need to find is a really really big tree.