There is a Santa Claus. And he and all his jolly lookalikes are worried about H1N1 in NYC, where they are petitioning to be added to the vaccine priority list.
Was Clement Clarke Moore a prophet of doom? Read the excerpt below, and tell me if you don't think Mr. Moore knew a worldwide pandemic was nigh!
His eyes, how they twinkled (glossy and red).
His dimples, how merry (obviously delirious).
His cheeks were like roses (fever gone to his head).
His nose like a cherry (full up with mucus).
Happy Still November But The Media Already Grasping At Holiday Straws.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Get Lost
No one has ever wondered what I miss about my single life, but I'm-a-gonna tell you anyway. Don't get too excited, it's so the opposite of racy it'll only prove what a bore I am these days. What I miss the most is being totally lost. Off the grid, no phone, no one knows where you are, and you can spend as much time doing whatever it is you want to do as you'd like.
There are two examples that bring fond memories.
1) The University of Oregon library. Far side, desk at the window overlooking the garden. I didn't do it often, but often enough. And one of those times did afford me the chance to have a long chat with Library Lady, the 50-year-old gal who lives on the front steps. She was freshening up in the ladies' room and swore she knew me -- from someplace other than the library. Eventually, her family arranged for her to shower and workout at the UO gym. Good ol' UO. They sure do take care of their Campus Characters, as I like to call them.
And not that she doesn't count, but she doesn't count as someone knowing where I was, as she quickly was carrying on both sides of the conversation and didn't notice me leaving.
2) My first day in Madrid. No one, and I mean no one knew where I was. Sure, people knew I was in the greater Iberian peninsula area, but that could have included Portugal or Andorra. It was a beautiful day and I roamed the streets for hours. Several days' worth of hours, actually, but the first was the best. I couldn't quite figure out how a girl who was raised in a barn in Turner, Oregon wound up working in Spain and searching for Goya in the Prado.
That was at least ten and eight years ago. Now, I get a little giddy when I go to the grocery store by myself. When The Hubs says, "take your time, The Kid is still napping."
There are two examples that bring fond memories.
1) The University of Oregon library. Far side, desk at the window overlooking the garden. I didn't do it often, but often enough. And one of those times did afford me the chance to have a long chat with Library Lady, the 50-year-old gal who lives on the front steps. She was freshening up in the ladies' room and swore she knew me -- from someplace other than the library. Eventually, her family arranged for her to shower and workout at the UO gym. Good ol' UO. They sure do take care of their Campus Characters, as I like to call them.
And not that she doesn't count, but she doesn't count as someone knowing where I was, as she quickly was carrying on both sides of the conversation and didn't notice me leaving.
2) My first day in Madrid. No one, and I mean no one knew where I was. Sure, people knew I was in the greater Iberian peninsula area, but that could have included Portugal or Andorra. It was a beautiful day and I roamed the streets for hours. Several days' worth of hours, actually, but the first was the best. I couldn't quite figure out how a girl who was raised in a barn in Turner, Oregon wound up working in Spain and searching for Goya in the Prado.
That was at least ten and eight years ago. Now, I get a little giddy when I go to the grocery store by myself. When The Hubs says, "take your time, The Kid is still napping."
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