Just received another of my twice yearly letters from Comcast, our local cable company, raising my rates again. But unlike the the February missive, this one had a bonus! We will now be receiving three NEW channels: The Golf Channel, The Sportsman Channel and The History Channel en Español!
And, at no additional charge!
Now I am certain that much research went into the selection of the new channels now offered to those of us residing in Pennsylvania Dutch Country. And we do have a large population of Latinos in our area that I'm equally sure have been clamoring for The History Channel... I'll even grant the powers that be the Sportsman Channel, which I'm assuming (perhaps incorrectly) is focused toward hunters and fishermen.
But The Golf Channel?
If Comcast is really interested in providing truly audience specific programming options, I've a few to suggest:
The Austen Channel -- All Jane Austen! All the time! Classic Jane Austen films, made for TV movies and videotaped book clubs! Travelogues with titles like "I'd Rather Be At Pemberly"...and a great morning show called "Breakfast with the Darcys." Okay...there were only five books, so I'd be willing to expand to include the Bronte sisters...
V -- The Vampire Network -- A channel dedicated to goth culture and vampirism. Can you picture the evening talk show? Interview with the Vampire! Room here for both Buffy fans and Twilighters alike.
Curtains -- A channel dedicated to Broadway -- The Great White Way!
Tiara Television --In addition to Miss America highlights, it could show reruns of Designing Women ("...And THAT Marjorie, was the Night The Lights Went Out In Georgia!"
And finally (you had to see this coming):
Blue Tights TV -- you guessed it -- a channel devoted to the world's favorite Superhero - Superman! I'd even be willing to expand it to include the entire DC universe. Superfriends on Saturday mornings, afternoons with George Reeves, all four seasons of Lois & Clark. Plus a whole programming block on "Finding the Superhero Within..."
Who is with me?
Friday, October 24, 2008
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
...and all I have to do is Dream.
Chatting with a friend this morning about dreams -- not our grand hopes and dreams -- but those that occur whilst sleeping. While I have perfect recall of my dreams - in vivid Technicolor with full details (...and honey, you were wearing your blue shirt with the white collar...), my friend has the ability to decide in advance what he'd like to dream about, and then go to it!
If only I could do that! Or at the very least program myself to not dream about spreadsheets and forecasts!
But the conversation stirred up a childhood memory for me...
I believe I was about seven and my baby sister was about three. We were staying with Granny in Ohio, and Baby Sis came skipping down to breakfast one morning and announced, over her Sugar Smacks, that she'd "had a movie" the night before while sleeping!
She described her "movie" to us in the kind of detail only a three-year-old could -- "pretty colors, and me and Lolly were playing by the pond and eating cookies..." I can clearly remember her delight -- her little green eyes dancing with joy.
Why I felt the need to ruin it for her isn't clear to me to this day. But, being the older, wiser sister, I explained the full dream phenomena to her -- emphasizing the fact that if she didn't behave during the day, snakes and alligators would be in her "movies" at night!
Imagine my excitement, when later in the evening, the entire household was awakened by my baby sister screaming in her sleep -- having nightmares about the snakes in her bed.
Oh, the power I felt!
The next day I taught her all about monsters that ate little children who mis-behaved. I don't think our family slept through the night the entire summer.
I did finally own up to my 'experiment' some years later (like when I was in college).
And I don't think I was really an evil child. But I was really smart for my age (regardless of the age) and I knew it. And thought it was fun to play "Great and Powerful Oz" with my sisters.
It's a wonder they still speak to me. Between the ages of 4 and 8, I:
-- Terrorized Baby Sis by making her 'bow to worship a wooden spoon' -- yes, imagine the worst - I had her face down on the kitchen floor while I waved the spoon and forced her to pledge eternal allegiance to it!
-- Pushed my slightly younger sister into a sharp-cornered coffee table, resulting in her getting 16 stitches in her face (up her nose and into her mouth). Later I told her friends that she had a cleft palate.
-- Hid their toys constantly -- I recall specific incidents with Mrs. Beasley and the laundry chute, and burying the sock monkey bunny rabbit she couldn't sleep without in the back yard (in a thunderstorm, no less!)
-- Talked Baby sister into seeing if she could fit into the abandoned refrigerator in the alley behind our house...she couldn't -- but the neighbor girl could -- I even got the door shut! Learned that folks really freak out about that sort of thing.
I am, to this day, the only person I know who got suspended from Kindergarten - twice. The first time involved cutting off a classmate's long braid with safety scissors (in my defense, I did warn her three times to get her nasty hair off my desk!). And the second time involved me and another child having a verbal disagreement. I won the war of the words, but ended up with 72 stitches in my head (I had the words -- he had a brick).
I don't think I landed in an ultra-strict Catholic school by accident.
And Sister Maria Deloris straightened me out BIG TIME.
But that's a blog entry for another day.
If only I could do that! Or at the very least program myself to not dream about spreadsheets and forecasts!
But the conversation stirred up a childhood memory for me...
I believe I was about seven and my baby sister was about three. We were staying with Granny in Ohio, and Baby Sis came skipping down to breakfast one morning and announced, over her Sugar Smacks, that she'd "had a movie" the night before while sleeping!
She described her "movie" to us in the kind of detail only a three-year-old could -- "pretty colors, and me and Lolly were playing by the pond and eating cookies..." I can clearly remember her delight -- her little green eyes dancing with joy.
Why I felt the need to ruin it for her isn't clear to me to this day. But, being the older, wiser sister, I explained the full dream phenomena to her -- emphasizing the fact that if she didn't behave during the day, snakes and alligators would be in her "movies" at night!
Imagine my excitement, when later in the evening, the entire household was awakened by my baby sister screaming in her sleep -- having nightmares about the snakes in her bed.
Oh, the power I felt!
The next day I taught her all about monsters that ate little children who mis-behaved. I don't think our family slept through the night the entire summer.
I did finally own up to my 'experiment' some years later (like when I was in college).
And I don't think I was really an evil child. But I was really smart for my age (regardless of the age) and I knew it. And thought it was fun to play "Great and Powerful Oz" with my sisters.
It's a wonder they still speak to me. Between the ages of 4 and 8, I:
-- Terrorized Baby Sis by making her 'bow to worship a wooden spoon' -- yes, imagine the worst - I had her face down on the kitchen floor while I waved the spoon and forced her to pledge eternal allegiance to it!
-- Pushed my slightly younger sister into a sharp-cornered coffee table, resulting in her getting 16 stitches in her face (up her nose and into her mouth). Later I told her friends that she had a cleft palate.
-- Hid their toys constantly -- I recall specific incidents with Mrs. Beasley and the laundry chute, and burying the sock monkey bunny rabbit she couldn't sleep without in the back yard (in a thunderstorm, no less!)
-- Talked Baby sister into seeing if she could fit into the abandoned refrigerator in the alley behind our house...she couldn't -- but the neighbor girl could -- I even got the door shut! Learned that folks really freak out about that sort of thing.
I am, to this day, the only person I know who got suspended from Kindergarten - twice. The first time involved cutting off a classmate's long braid with safety scissors (in my defense, I did warn her three times to get her nasty hair off my desk!). And the second time involved me and another child having a verbal disagreement. I won the war of the words, but ended up with 72 stitches in my head (I had the words -- he had a brick).
I don't think I landed in an ultra-strict Catholic school by accident.
And Sister Maria Deloris straightened me out BIG TIME.
But that's a blog entry for another day.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Ode to my Chicken Salad Sandwich
Admittedly, I'm a foodie.
I just love food...making it, eating it, dining in, dining out...and I can get equally excited about the perfect toasted cheese sandwich or Lobster Thermodor.
I enjoy just reading cookbooks. I have dozens of them...most of which have never been used to actually prepare a meal -- just like reading the recipes and looking at the pretty pictures of food.
Most days, breakfast is barely digested before I'm thinking about lunch.
And while I'm not the greatest cook, I like to think I'm well known in my small circle for my hors-d'oevres, appetizers and desserts.
I once stayed an extra day in Paris, just so I could visit the famous Laduree bakery!
My husband knows I'll follow him just about anywhere with the promise of a good meal. And again, equally happy at Joe's Steaks or Susanna Foo.
But today's missive is about the perfect chicken salad sandwich.
Honestly, I'm not a huge sandwich gal. My lunch preferences are usually along the lines of something ethnic (egg rolls? thai noodles?) or salad, with the odd chicken mcnugget thrown in.
That was before I discovered, no -- stumbled upon Barb & Suzi's stand at the Lebanon Farmer's Market.
The market is about two blocks from my office and has a number of good food options, not too surprisingly, most of them are centered around Pennsylvania Dutch cooking -- not one of my favorites.
But Barb & Suzi have a deli that has the most incredible chicken salad I've ever tasted.
I can't even begin to describe it -- but will try: picture big chunks of grilled chicken, chopped dates, cranberries, pineapple, finely chopped celery in a dressing that I'm guessing has equal parts mayo and sour cream.
YUM!
I could eat it out of a bowl with a spoon -- but usually get it on white bread. No white bread today, so I got it on a croissant.
I wouldn't care if they served it to me on tree bark -- it's THAT good. And the big scoop they put on my bread makes it a meal in and of itself -- although they are willing to add lettuce or tomato if you like (I don't -- I'm a chicken salad purist).
So...if you're paying me a visit and that visit might involve food (although I'd be hard-pressed to imagine me entertaining anyone without food)...plan for a Thursday or Friday -- as those are days the Farmer's Market is open.
See me on a Tuesday if you want Thai or Asian fusion...
I just love food...making it, eating it, dining in, dining out...and I can get equally excited about the perfect toasted cheese sandwich or Lobster Thermodor.
I enjoy just reading cookbooks. I have dozens of them...most of which have never been used to actually prepare a meal -- just like reading the recipes and looking at the pretty pictures of food.
Most days, breakfast is barely digested before I'm thinking about lunch.
And while I'm not the greatest cook, I like to think I'm well known in my small circle for my hors-d'oevres, appetizers and desserts.
I once stayed an extra day in Paris, just so I could visit the famous Laduree bakery!
My husband knows I'll follow him just about anywhere with the promise of a good meal. And again, equally happy at Joe's Steaks or Susanna Foo.
But today's missive is about the perfect chicken salad sandwich.
Honestly, I'm not a huge sandwich gal. My lunch preferences are usually along the lines of something ethnic (egg rolls? thai noodles?) or salad, with the odd chicken mcnugget thrown in.
That was before I discovered, no -- stumbled upon Barb & Suzi's stand at the Lebanon Farmer's Market.
The market is about two blocks from my office and has a number of good food options, not too surprisingly, most of them are centered around Pennsylvania Dutch cooking -- not one of my favorites.
But Barb & Suzi have a deli that has the most incredible chicken salad I've ever tasted.
I can't even begin to describe it -- but will try: picture big chunks of grilled chicken, chopped dates, cranberries, pineapple, finely chopped celery in a dressing that I'm guessing has equal parts mayo and sour cream.
YUM!
I could eat it out of a bowl with a spoon -- but usually get it on white bread. No white bread today, so I got it on a croissant.
I wouldn't care if they served it to me on tree bark -- it's THAT good. And the big scoop they put on my bread makes it a meal in and of itself -- although they are willing to add lettuce or tomato if you like (I don't -- I'm a chicken salad purist).
So...if you're paying me a visit and that visit might involve food (although I'd be hard-pressed to imagine me entertaining anyone without food)...plan for a Thursday or Friday -- as those are days the Farmer's Market is open.
See me on a Tuesday if you want Thai or Asian fusion...
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Dear Mr. Postman...why has thou forsaketh me?
We all remember the old postal service adage:
"Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds"
Apparently, this is not applicable to Cleona, Pennsylvania.
Cleona, Pennsylvania is a wonderful place to live. Nestled in the heart of beautiful Lebanon county, it is a small community of tree-lined streets, friendly faces and outdoor holiday decorators. Often grouped together with neighboring Annville boro, as in Annville-Cleona School District, Cleona is my home.
I have lived in "Gloryland" (Cleona comes from the Latin word for "glory") since my marriage some fifteen years ago. And for most of those fifteen years, I was blissfully unaware of my mail service. It arrived without issue -- bills, letters from grandparents, my beloved National Geographic, and junk.
I rarely gave it a passing thought. It simply was.
Even the time our mailman cited us to his superiors (he wanted us to move our mailbox from the front door to the back door so he could avoid crossing in front of our house), the issue was resolved peacefully and with minimal angst.
Then, several years ago, Lebanon County changed zip codes around a bit, so that the entire south side of Lebanon City now shared a zip code with tiny Cleona.
You see where this is going.
Yes...we are now one of the few unfortunate folks who now share a complete address with another family in Lebanon city -- number, street and zip code. And because the Cleona post office is an "adjunct" of the big Lebanon post office -- at least half the time, our mail goes to this nice family in Lebanon.
We do occasionally get something of theirs, but maybe once a month -- compared to the daily influx of our mail that they receive. And they are tired of it...as are we.
At first, it was kind of funny...we'd get a call from them -- "We got your phone bill again!" And then it became mildly annoying -- "We're just going to start handing your mail back to the carrier."
And then it started getting scary -- as we realized that we weren't getting bills that needed to be paid on time. That new health insurance cards hadn't arrived...financial statements...retirement checks.
And the problem is actually bigger than the local post office (although that's where it began). Most computer databases, when 17042 is entered, pop up Lebanon, PA automatically. So, even though I have personally spoken to and mailed/emailed representatives ranging from LLBean to the electric company to our local lawn care guy...as soon as they get a database update, our mail starts being labeled "Lebanon" again!
So, not only are we not getting mail addressed to us IN Cleona -- the master postal databases are convinced we live in Lebanon. And the problem is exacerbated by the ever revolving door of postal carriers in our area -- we no sooner get someone up to speed than she or he retires or gets re-assigned to Palmyra.
And the once "very nice people" in Lebanon with our address are now really annoyed with the situation.
As are we.
We've contacted everyone we can think of and have had many helpful suggestions from the Postal Service...the four digit addition to the zip code? Doesn't help. Re-writing our address as "Chestnut Street East" instead of "East Chestnut Street" -- no results.
Local representatives and congressman have promised to look into the situation - but again, no results. I even sent a letter to the postmaster general. Zilch.
My best story was a few Christmas's ago. I had ordered my husband a leather jacket from a men's specialty catalog. It was my first order from the catalog.
After ten minutes on the phone with the customer service rep -- explaining about the zip code issue and being assured that she manually changed it in the computer, she asked me if I wanted to open an account with the company -- it involved a hefty discount on the coat. Another barrage of questions later I was done.
One week later, my husband was home alone when the call came from the nice people in Lebanon -- a large box had been delivered to them in my husband's name.
He drove to get it, opened it, and ruined his holiday surprise.
The company had:
1. Put it in his name instead of mine as requested (the original catalog had been in his name)
2. Sent it to the wrong address (Lebanon, even though they had "overwritten" it in the system)
and to top it all off -- they then sent him the bill. For his surprise present!
Needless to say, I know have packages shipped to my office -- and have gone paperless with most bills/creditors.
But then today, ran home at lunch to let the pups out, and there is the insurance claim I've been waiting two months for...it had gone to...you guessed it...Lebanon PA.
In the immortal words of The Marvelettes... "PLEASE Mr. Postman!"
"Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds"
Apparently, this is not applicable to Cleona, Pennsylvania.
Cleona, Pennsylvania is a wonderful place to live. Nestled in the heart of beautiful Lebanon county, it is a small community of tree-lined streets, friendly faces and outdoor holiday decorators. Often grouped together with neighboring Annville boro, as in Annville-Cleona School District, Cleona is my home.
I have lived in "Gloryland" (Cleona comes from the Latin word for "glory") since my marriage some fifteen years ago. And for most of those fifteen years, I was blissfully unaware of my mail service. It arrived without issue -- bills, letters from grandparents, my beloved National Geographic, and junk.
I rarely gave it a passing thought. It simply was.
Even the time our mailman cited us to his superiors (he wanted us to move our mailbox from the front door to the back door so he could avoid crossing in front of our house), the issue was resolved peacefully and with minimal angst.
Then, several years ago, Lebanon County changed zip codes around a bit, so that the entire south side of Lebanon City now shared a zip code with tiny Cleona.
You see where this is going.
Yes...we are now one of the few unfortunate folks who now share a complete address with another family in Lebanon city -- number, street and zip code. And because the Cleona post office is an "adjunct" of the big Lebanon post office -- at least half the time, our mail goes to this nice family in Lebanon.
We do occasionally get something of theirs, but maybe once a month -- compared to the daily influx of our mail that they receive. And they are tired of it...as are we.
At first, it was kind of funny...we'd get a call from them -- "We got your phone bill again!" And then it became mildly annoying -- "We're just going to start handing your mail back to the carrier."
And then it started getting scary -- as we realized that we weren't getting bills that needed to be paid on time. That new health insurance cards hadn't arrived...financial statements...retirement checks.
And the problem is actually bigger than the local post office (although that's where it began). Most computer databases, when 17042 is entered, pop up Lebanon, PA automatically. So, even though I have personally spoken to and mailed/emailed representatives ranging from LLBean to the electric company to our local lawn care guy...as soon as they get a database update, our mail starts being labeled "Lebanon" again!
So, not only are we not getting mail addressed to us IN Cleona -- the master postal databases are convinced we live in Lebanon. And the problem is exacerbated by the ever revolving door of postal carriers in our area -- we no sooner get someone up to speed than she or he retires or gets re-assigned to Palmyra.
And the once "very nice people" in Lebanon with our address are now really annoyed with the situation.
As are we.
We've contacted everyone we can think of and have had many helpful suggestions from the Postal Service...the four digit addition to the zip code? Doesn't help. Re-writing our address as "Chestnut Street East" instead of "East Chestnut Street" -- no results.
Local representatives and congressman have promised to look into the situation - but again, no results. I even sent a letter to the postmaster general. Zilch.
My best story was a few Christmas's ago. I had ordered my husband a leather jacket from a men's specialty catalog. It was my first order from the catalog.
After ten minutes on the phone with the customer service rep -- explaining about the zip code issue and being assured that she manually changed it in the computer, she asked me if I wanted to open an account with the company -- it involved a hefty discount on the coat. Another barrage of questions later I was done.
One week later, my husband was home alone when the call came from the nice people in Lebanon -- a large box had been delivered to them in my husband's name.
He drove to get it, opened it, and ruined his holiday surprise.
The company had:
1. Put it in his name instead of mine as requested (the original catalog had been in his name)
2. Sent it to the wrong address (Lebanon, even though they had "overwritten" it in the system)
and to top it all off -- they then sent him the bill. For his surprise present!
Needless to say, I know have packages shipped to my office -- and have gone paperless with most bills/creditors.
But then today, ran home at lunch to let the pups out, and there is the insurance claim I've been waiting two months for...it had gone to...you guessed it...Lebanon PA.
In the immortal words of The Marvelettes... "PLEASE Mr. Postman!"
Thursday, October 9, 2008
If you're worried, and you can't sleep...count your blessings, instead of sheep...
Although my husband would disagree -- he claims that I sleep like the dead (and am equally immovable!) -- I've not been sleeping well lately...blame it on stress...the upcoming election...the economy...
I fall asleep very easily -- too easily -- but find that I wake up at 3 a.m. -- wide awake and mind racing.
My old tools have been failing me:
1. Counting backward from 100 by sevens -- this used to do the trick...somewhere around 65 I'd nod off.
2. Ascension to the British throne...again, just enough thought required that I couldn't fret... and I'd be snoring somewhere around the former Lady Sarah Armstrong-Jones (now Chatto).
or that old stand-by...The Fibonacci Sequence...1...1...2...3...5...8...13...21...34...snooze...
But lately I've been finding that counting my blessings works best. Maybe its nostalgia...growing older...of a love White Christmas...
I start at the top...God...love...family...friends...health...make my way through home and hearth, pets...
...and soon I fall asleep...counting my blessings.
I fall asleep very easily -- too easily -- but find that I wake up at 3 a.m. -- wide awake and mind racing.
My old tools have been failing me:
1. Counting backward from 100 by sevens -- this used to do the trick...somewhere around 65 I'd nod off.
2. Ascension to the British throne...again, just enough thought required that I couldn't fret... and I'd be snoring somewhere around the former Lady Sarah Armstrong-Jones (now Chatto).
or that old stand-by...The Fibonacci Sequence...1...1...2...3...5...8...13...21...34...snooze...
But lately I've been finding that counting my blessings works best. Maybe its nostalgia...growing older...of a love White Christmas...
I start at the top...God...love...family...friends...health...make my way through home and hearth, pets...
...and soon I fall asleep...counting my blessings.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
It's okay...please...touch yourself!
Got your attention did I?
Those who know me well, know that there are few areas in which I am 'militant' in my opinions...but breast self-examination is one of them.
October is National Breast Cancer Awareness month -- the month in which half of everything in the supermarket suddenly, magically, has a pink label or pink ribbon on it. And while it's easier with each passing year to tune out the marketing, the message is more important than ever.
I hate cancer.
I hate cancer with such a vengence that it can keep me awake at night.
I've been known to overhear two people I don't KNOW talking about postponing mammagrams, and interrupted their conversation to point them toward the nearest clinic.
Yesterday, I started a meeting at work -- with three twenty-something young men, mind you -- by reminding them of Breast Cancer Awareness month and asking them to please remind their Mom's, wives and girlfriends to self-examine and/or get a mammogram. I offered each a pink frosted cupcake (left over from a cancer fundraiser the day before).
It was a heck of a way to start a meeting.
The 'new guy' looked like he really wanted to bolt.
I even suggested that it might be fun for them to "help" with the self-exam -- hey! -- if it gets the job done...
I have lost too many people that I love to cancer, included my beloved Dad. I have seen the face of this disease up close and personal -- and would not wish it on my worst enemy. I have a friend right now who is surviving admirably. I donate as much time as I can to fundraising and awareness.
But I am only one person -- albiet a LOUD person.
So I challenge all of you out there -- talk to your Mom this month...or your wife...or your sister... or special female person in your life. Ask the sometime uncomfortable question...when was your last self-exam, doctor's exam, or mammagram? Encourage them to take appropriate action. Got a voice? Use it!
I'm doing it -- to the shock and sometimes dumbfoundedness (is that a word) of friends and co-workers. And I'm wearing as much pink this month as I can...to remind myself and others without saying a word.
At the eye doctor yesterday I saw a woman with a pink t-shirt on...I first saw her from behind and could see an ACS logo on the back on her shirt...but the real message was on the front of her shirt...when she turned around -- it said:
Yes -- these are FAKE
(the real ones almost killed me!)
Suddenly my own petty problems and issues didn't seem all that important...
Just wait until National Prostate Cancer month -- I'll really stir things up then!
Those who know me well, know that there are few areas in which I am 'militant' in my opinions...but breast self-examination is one of them.
October is National Breast Cancer Awareness month -- the month in which half of everything in the supermarket suddenly, magically, has a pink label or pink ribbon on it. And while it's easier with each passing year to tune out the marketing, the message is more important than ever.
I hate cancer.
I hate cancer with such a vengence that it can keep me awake at night.
I've been known to overhear two people I don't KNOW talking about postponing mammagrams, and interrupted their conversation to point them toward the nearest clinic.
Yesterday, I started a meeting at work -- with three twenty-something young men, mind you -- by reminding them of Breast Cancer Awareness month and asking them to please remind their Mom's, wives and girlfriends to self-examine and/or get a mammogram. I offered each a pink frosted cupcake (left over from a cancer fundraiser the day before).
It was a heck of a way to start a meeting.
The 'new guy' looked like he really wanted to bolt.
I even suggested that it might be fun for them to "help" with the self-exam -- hey! -- if it gets the job done...
I have lost too many people that I love to cancer, included my beloved Dad. I have seen the face of this disease up close and personal -- and would not wish it on my worst enemy. I have a friend right now who is surviving admirably. I donate as much time as I can to fundraising and awareness.
But I am only one person -- albiet a LOUD person.
So I challenge all of you out there -- talk to your Mom this month...or your wife...or your sister... or special female person in your life. Ask the sometime uncomfortable question...when was your last self-exam, doctor's exam, or mammagram? Encourage them to take appropriate action. Got a voice? Use it!
I'm doing it -- to the shock and sometimes dumbfoundedness (is that a word) of friends and co-workers. And I'm wearing as much pink this month as I can...to remind myself and others without saying a word.
At the eye doctor yesterday I saw a woman with a pink t-shirt on...I first saw her from behind and could see an ACS logo on the back on her shirt...but the real message was on the front of her shirt...when she turned around -- it said:
Yes -- these are FAKE
(the real ones almost killed me!)
Suddenly my own petty problems and issues didn't seem all that important...
Just wait until National Prostate Cancer month -- I'll really stir things up then!
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