Thursday, March 24, 2005
Wish I had thought of that
There was a rather lively discussion on the radio this morning about some of the ideas people come up with for products that seem to catch on for whatever reason. Although many of them only acheive fleeting fad status, it is kind of fun to wonder how someone comes up with some of these ideas.
Take the Chia Pet for instance. Who would have thought of taking a lump of clay, molding it into a head, poking holes in it, smearing on seeds, adding water and VOILA!!....instant plant!! Much as we may not want to admit it, I would venture to guess that just about everyone I know has owned a Chia at one time. They are great fun in the beginning but lose a lot of their appeal if you forget to water them. Somehow, the wilted Chia just never caught on.
And look at the Pet Rock. Believe it or not, my husband and I were just discussing Pet Rocks the other day. No, our life is not that boring. We just got on the discussion of the perfect pet and while he prefers dogs, I tend to like fish. I mean, fish don't need to be let out or groomed. They don't bark or shed and you never find them perched on your favorite chair. So you can't walk them on a leash or let them hang out the window in a car but they sure are easy to care for.
After talking about fish versus dogs, it occurred to me that perhaps the Pet Rock might be the perfect pet. Whoever came up with this idea couldn't have had to invest much in startup costs and had to make a mint while the craze lasted. Picture the inventor playing around in his garden one day, noticing some rather pleasant looking rocks and.....the light bulb went off!!! Why not find the best looking rocks, polish them up, maybe even give them names, put them in fancy tissue-clad boxes and sell them as pets!! Who could resist?? Even the most pet phobic or allergic person could have a pet and mothers wouldn't have to nag their kids to feed or walk their pets. No food, water, sunlight or attention required....no visits to the vet, no hair on the furniture, no puddles on the floor. And when one tired of the Pet Rock, it could still be used as a paperweight or doorstop with no repercussions from the Humane Society. At least I don't think there's a Save the Pet Rock Foundation.
And don't forget the Virgin Mary Grilled Cheese that recently sold for big bucks on EBay. I still don't understand how this woman kept a half of a grilled cheese in a box for 10 years without it turning moldy. Heck, leave half a sandwich on a counter for 24 hours and you've got the beginnings of a science project. Now she's trying to auction off the pan she cooked the grilled cheese in. It wouldn't surprise me if someone paid a handsome amount for that too although at last report the bids were less than $200. Stay tuned for updates on that one.
What caught my attention on the radio this morning though was a new product for women that's gaining popularity in Japan. There's a new gum out for women made from some unpronouncable plant extract that supposedly helps increase bust size. It's called....are you ready for this?.....BUST OUT!! Not being an anatomy expert, I'm pretty sure the exercising of jaw muscles while chewing gum is totally unrelated to bust size however, whatever plant extract is in the gum is said to cause swelling of the breasts, thereby increasing bust size. Of course, the males on the deejay team had a field day with this thought but readily admitted they had other alternatives to accomplish swelling in desired areas.
I guess this all just goes to prove what P T Barnum once said..."There's a sucker born every minute". Or maybe we all need a little novelty in our lives sometimes. Wish I'd thought of that darn Pet Rock thing!!
There was a rather lively discussion on the radio this morning about some of the ideas people come up with for products that seem to catch on for whatever reason. Although many of them only acheive fleeting fad status, it is kind of fun to wonder how someone comes up with some of these ideas.
Take the Chia Pet for instance. Who would have thought of taking a lump of clay, molding it into a head, poking holes in it, smearing on seeds, adding water and VOILA!!....instant plant!! Much as we may not want to admit it, I would venture to guess that just about everyone I know has owned a Chia at one time. They are great fun in the beginning but lose a lot of their appeal if you forget to water them. Somehow, the wilted Chia just never caught on.
And look at the Pet Rock. Believe it or not, my husband and I were just discussing Pet Rocks the other day. No, our life is not that boring. We just got on the discussion of the perfect pet and while he prefers dogs, I tend to like fish. I mean, fish don't need to be let out or groomed. They don't bark or shed and you never find them perched on your favorite chair. So you can't walk them on a leash or let them hang out the window in a car but they sure are easy to care for.
After talking about fish versus dogs, it occurred to me that perhaps the Pet Rock might be the perfect pet. Whoever came up with this idea couldn't have had to invest much in startup costs and had to make a mint while the craze lasted. Picture the inventor playing around in his garden one day, noticing some rather pleasant looking rocks and.....the light bulb went off!!! Why not find the best looking rocks, polish them up, maybe even give them names, put them in fancy tissue-clad boxes and sell them as pets!! Who could resist?? Even the most pet phobic or allergic person could have a pet and mothers wouldn't have to nag their kids to feed or walk their pets. No food, water, sunlight or attention required....no visits to the vet, no hair on the furniture, no puddles on the floor. And when one tired of the Pet Rock, it could still be used as a paperweight or doorstop with no repercussions from the Humane Society. At least I don't think there's a Save the Pet Rock Foundation.
And don't forget the Virgin Mary Grilled Cheese that recently sold for big bucks on EBay. I still don't understand how this woman kept a half of a grilled cheese in a box for 10 years without it turning moldy. Heck, leave half a sandwich on a counter for 24 hours and you've got the beginnings of a science project. Now she's trying to auction off the pan she cooked the grilled cheese in. It wouldn't surprise me if someone paid a handsome amount for that too although at last report the bids were less than $200. Stay tuned for updates on that one.
What caught my attention on the radio this morning though was a new product for women that's gaining popularity in Japan. There's a new gum out for women made from some unpronouncable plant extract that supposedly helps increase bust size. It's called....are you ready for this?.....BUST OUT!! Not being an anatomy expert, I'm pretty sure the exercising of jaw muscles while chewing gum is totally unrelated to bust size however, whatever plant extract is in the gum is said to cause swelling of the breasts, thereby increasing bust size. Of course, the males on the deejay team had a field day with this thought but readily admitted they had other alternatives to accomplish swelling in desired areas.
I guess this all just goes to prove what P T Barnum once said..."There's a sucker born every minute". Or maybe we all need a little novelty in our lives sometimes. Wish I'd thought of that darn Pet Rock thing!!
Saturday, March 12, 2005
My Zeneration
Tooling down the Florida highway with Nancy the other day, fresh from our latest Mall experience, we were discussing her ironing adventure the day before. Needless to say, she hadn't as yet read my blog discussing her various Zen activities although in good conscience I felt compelled to let her know that I had indeed written my thoughts on ironing and her Zen genes in general. As she extolled the relaxing qualities of ironing, I wondered aloud where I might have been the day these extraordinary genes were handed out. Nancy described an experience unlike any I've ever known while tackling a pile of wrinkled clothing. She was actually singing a song as she took a break from ironing!!!
Ok, something is definitely amiss here...no one sings while ironing...at least not in my world! Finally, the answer came to me like a bolt of lightening. It was so obvious I had completely missed it. Nancy is five years younger than me. She was still playing with dolls when I was in high-heels. Plus she was the youngest child and had never had children besides the five furry boys that now reside with her and her husband. Eureka!!! I looked at Nancy in the midst of her ironing reverie and declared " Well, it's obvious....we come from two different Zenerations!". Well, I've had blank looks directed at me before but Nancy's took the prize. So I proceeded to explain...you know, GENerations...ZENerations...got it? Yeah my sense of humor can be a little off-base sometimes but GEEZ, this was a really good one.
It must have finally become clear because when I visited Nancy & Harlan and the menagerie yesterday, Zeneration was the word of the day. In fact we were all singing that old song....."Talking 'bout my Zeneration". So maybe you had to be there to appreciate it.
Although I constantly lament the lack of Zen genes, it occured to me today that I do actually have these genes. What Nancy calls Zen is good old-fashioned relaxation. It's something that I'm just beginning to relearn after three children, five grandchildren, a family business and all the other stuff that keeps our minds whirling like a top gone wild. Sitting on our lanai in Florida soaking up the last warm rays of sunlight before returning to Maryland, I found my Zen. It was there all the time. All I needed was the quiet to tune into myself and just chill.
Tooling down the Florida highway with Nancy the other day, fresh from our latest Mall experience, we were discussing her ironing adventure the day before. Needless to say, she hadn't as yet read my blog discussing her various Zen activities although in good conscience I felt compelled to let her know that I had indeed written my thoughts on ironing and her Zen genes in general. As she extolled the relaxing qualities of ironing, I wondered aloud where I might have been the day these extraordinary genes were handed out. Nancy described an experience unlike any I've ever known while tackling a pile of wrinkled clothing. She was actually singing a song as she took a break from ironing!!!
Ok, something is definitely amiss here...no one sings while ironing...at least not in my world! Finally, the answer came to me like a bolt of lightening. It was so obvious I had completely missed it. Nancy is five years younger than me. She was still playing with dolls when I was in high-heels. Plus she was the youngest child and had never had children besides the five furry boys that now reside with her and her husband. Eureka!!! I looked at Nancy in the midst of her ironing reverie and declared " Well, it's obvious....we come from two different Zenerations!". Well, I've had blank looks directed at me before but Nancy's took the prize. So I proceeded to explain...you know, GENerations...ZENerations...got it? Yeah my sense of humor can be a little off-base sometimes but GEEZ, this was a really good one.
It must have finally become clear because when I visited Nancy & Harlan and the menagerie yesterday, Zeneration was the word of the day. In fact we were all singing that old song....."Talking 'bout my Zeneration". So maybe you had to be there to appreciate it.
Although I constantly lament the lack of Zen genes, it occured to me today that I do actually have these genes. What Nancy calls Zen is good old-fashioned relaxation. It's something that I'm just beginning to relearn after three children, five grandchildren, a family business and all the other stuff that keeps our minds whirling like a top gone wild. Sitting on our lanai in Florida soaking up the last warm rays of sunlight before returning to Maryland, I found my Zen. It was there all the time. All I needed was the quiet to tune into myself and just chill.
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
Zen and Zen Again
I've often mentioned my sister Nancy, the catalyst behind my becoming a PTFP (part-time Fla. person), and her natural penchant for gardening. As my followers know, gardening to me is more like Chinese water torture than the cathartic, mind-freeing experience that Nancy enjoys. Having a somewhat off-beat sense of humor, I tend to tease Nancy about the "Zen" involved in various activities. Not that I question her ability to achieve Nirvana while up to her elbows in dirt. Quite to the contrary, I sometimes envy her being able to totally lose herself in an activity that reduces stress levels and leaves a calmer mind to continue on with the day-to-day situations we all encounter.
Today dawned a rainy, chilly day in Fla (our common reference to Florida). Temps in the fifties and a steady drizzle set the mood. Whatever thoughts I might have had for visiting parents or shopping or any other outdoor activity quickly vanished as I looked out the window at the damp gray day. After all, part of the lure of being in Fla is not having to do anything if I don't feel like it.
Nancy called earlier today and we discussed our "plans" for the day. We both agreed that there was no necessity to venture out into the damp, cold world. As we talked, Nancy revealed that today she was going to spend the day ironing. Chuckling, I said "Sure you are. Sounds like a thrill a minute to me.". I tend to iron only whatever I'm going to wear on the morning I'm going to wear it. Having spent many an hour ironing as a teenager, permanent press has become one of my best friends. Besides, even if you iron on a regular basis (there is therapy for that compulsion), by the time your clothes hang in the closet for a while, they need at least a touch-up before you put them on...at least in my closet they do.
So as Nancy assured me that she actually enjoyed ironing, I couldn't resist the temptation to make a laughing reference to the Zen of ironing. I can see it all now.....a white cotton shirt, the steam from the iron rising in patterns above the ironing board, that thrill of conquering the wrinkled sleeve...... and yes, losing oneself in the perfect crease.
Once more I admit to not possessing the Zen gene.....gardening or ironing. Maybe because I was the middle daughter and was subjected to the chores of weeding and ironing my father's work clothes, I've developed no fondness for either one. Freud would have much to say about that!
I've come to the conclusion that my Zen resides inside my mind-computer connection. Spending the better part of today playing computer Majhong and thinking about writing this blog, I've managed to clear my mind and find that serene place inside myself. OK...maybe that's a bit of a stretch but it is progress.
I've often mentioned my sister Nancy, the catalyst behind my becoming a PTFP (part-time Fla. person), and her natural penchant for gardening. As my followers know, gardening to me is more like Chinese water torture than the cathartic, mind-freeing experience that Nancy enjoys. Having a somewhat off-beat sense of humor, I tend to tease Nancy about the "Zen" involved in various activities. Not that I question her ability to achieve Nirvana while up to her elbows in dirt. Quite to the contrary, I sometimes envy her being able to totally lose herself in an activity that reduces stress levels and leaves a calmer mind to continue on with the day-to-day situations we all encounter.
Today dawned a rainy, chilly day in Fla (our common reference to Florida). Temps in the fifties and a steady drizzle set the mood. Whatever thoughts I might have had for visiting parents or shopping or any other outdoor activity quickly vanished as I looked out the window at the damp gray day. After all, part of the lure of being in Fla is not having to do anything if I don't feel like it.
Nancy called earlier today and we discussed our "plans" for the day. We both agreed that there was no necessity to venture out into the damp, cold world. As we talked, Nancy revealed that today she was going to spend the day ironing. Chuckling, I said "Sure you are. Sounds like a thrill a minute to me.". I tend to iron only whatever I'm going to wear on the morning I'm going to wear it. Having spent many an hour ironing as a teenager, permanent press has become one of my best friends. Besides, even if you iron on a regular basis (there is therapy for that compulsion), by the time your clothes hang in the closet for a while, they need at least a touch-up before you put them on...at least in my closet they do.
So as Nancy assured me that she actually enjoyed ironing, I couldn't resist the temptation to make a laughing reference to the Zen of ironing. I can see it all now.....a white cotton shirt, the steam from the iron rising in patterns above the ironing board, that thrill of conquering the wrinkled sleeve...... and yes, losing oneself in the perfect crease.
Once more I admit to not possessing the Zen gene.....gardening or ironing. Maybe because I was the middle daughter and was subjected to the chores of weeding and ironing my father's work clothes, I've developed no fondness for either one. Freud would have much to say about that!
I've come to the conclusion that my Zen resides inside my mind-computer connection. Spending the better part of today playing computer Majhong and thinking about writing this blog, I've managed to clear my mind and find that serene place inside myself. OK...maybe that's a bit of a stretch but it is progress.
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
The Mommy Mobile
It's taken the better part of my first three days back in Florida to finally feel my fingertips again after the cold and snow in Maryland. Being warm is such a cozy feeling and the sunshine is glorious for this sun deprived Northerner. Thawing out after months of cold is much like coming out of a cocoon.....a slow, slightly painful experience but very fulfilling in the end. Sounds something like a butterfly story doesn't it? Actually the two situations are quite similar and this butterfly is happy to have broken loose from the frigid grip of winter.
Although getting warm was the impetus for this trip, there were several other reasons for visiting. My mother just had a birthday on March 5th so I thought I'd surprise her and join my sisters and father in celebrating another milestone. To hear Ma tell it, she's 39 and holding but in human years she's actually 84. Outside of a hip operation, she's in remarkably good condition but, being my mother, she enjoys holding court and being waited on. The more fuss the better. Red Lobster happens to be one of her favorite restaurants so we all gathered at her house on Sunday to whisk her away to the lobster of her choice.
Normally when I visit I rent a Dodge Stratus, however, this time around it seems there were no mid-size cars available so I was offered the choice of a smaller vehicle or a free upgrade to a larger car. Since I normally drive a Jeep, the thought of anything smaller than the Stratus was not comforting so the obvious choice would be the larger vehicle.....that is, until the smiling young man across the counter announced that all he had left was a mini-van! Certain I had misheard him, I repeated "MINI-van??". Sure enough, my ears were perfectly tuned and he had actually suggested a mini-van. Why in the world anyone would think that one person might require this mini-van was beyond me. Besides I honestly don't look anything like a soccer mom. As the young agent politely pointed to the long line of potential renters behind me, I finally reluctantly agreed to the van. Good grief...what happened to Jeeps or Chryslers.......Mini-van...hmpf!!
Since there were five of us attending Ma's birthday bash, I readily offered to drive the "Mommy Mobile" as I had come to refer to this vehicle. Getting my mother into most any vehicle is a test of patience and the van was no exception. First she has to make her way to the vehicle using her "Red Cadillac", a fancy wheeled walker complete with carrying pouch and hand-brakes. Then she manuevers into position and with much huffing and puffing settles into her seat. Lest you think I'm not sympathetic to the inconvenience of aging, keep in mind Ma tends to be a bit of an actress...not quite Academy Award material but nonetheless pretty good at times.
So off we go to the local Red Lobster, appetites increasing as we approach the restaurant. Settling in at our table we intently peruse the menu...except for Dad who has already decided on his favorite, Fish and Chips. The menu is quite expansive and the colorful pictures of various seafood concoctions don't make choices any easier.
Finally we all commit to our choice of entree and the meal begins. Beginning with the Ceasar salad, we all notice a rather strong presence of salt in the dressing. As the meal progresses we conclude that someone in the kitchen has an obvious love affair with the salt shaker since even the skin of the baked potatoe was coated with salt. Since a large part of the Florida population tends to be somewhat elderly, we wonder what percentage of the restaurant's clientele might notice an elevation in blood pressure after eating at this Red Lobster. Although the service was good and the food probably better with a little less salt....after all, how does one make coconut covered shrimp taste salty.....we were all feeling a bit dehydrated by the time we were done. Ending with a chocolate cake provided by the restaurant, we sang "Happy Birthday" to Ma as she blew out the candle.
In spite of toxic salt levels, a good time was had by all and Ma continues to be 39 and holding and holding and holding.
It's taken the better part of my first three days back in Florida to finally feel my fingertips again after the cold and snow in Maryland. Being warm is such a cozy feeling and the sunshine is glorious for this sun deprived Northerner. Thawing out after months of cold is much like coming out of a cocoon.....a slow, slightly painful experience but very fulfilling in the end. Sounds something like a butterfly story doesn't it? Actually the two situations are quite similar and this butterfly is happy to have broken loose from the frigid grip of winter.
Although getting warm was the impetus for this trip, there were several other reasons for visiting. My mother just had a birthday on March 5th so I thought I'd surprise her and join my sisters and father in celebrating another milestone. To hear Ma tell it, she's 39 and holding but in human years she's actually 84. Outside of a hip operation, she's in remarkably good condition but, being my mother, she enjoys holding court and being waited on. The more fuss the better. Red Lobster happens to be one of her favorite restaurants so we all gathered at her house on Sunday to whisk her away to the lobster of her choice.
Normally when I visit I rent a Dodge Stratus, however, this time around it seems there were no mid-size cars available so I was offered the choice of a smaller vehicle or a free upgrade to a larger car. Since I normally drive a Jeep, the thought of anything smaller than the Stratus was not comforting so the obvious choice would be the larger vehicle.....that is, until the smiling young man across the counter announced that all he had left was a mini-van! Certain I had misheard him, I repeated "MINI-van??". Sure enough, my ears were perfectly tuned and he had actually suggested a mini-van. Why in the world anyone would think that one person might require this mini-van was beyond me. Besides I honestly don't look anything like a soccer mom. As the young agent politely pointed to the long line of potential renters behind me, I finally reluctantly agreed to the van. Good grief...what happened to Jeeps or Chryslers.......Mini-van...hmpf!!
Since there were five of us attending Ma's birthday bash, I readily offered to drive the "Mommy Mobile" as I had come to refer to this vehicle. Getting my mother into most any vehicle is a test of patience and the van was no exception. First she has to make her way to the vehicle using her "Red Cadillac", a fancy wheeled walker complete with carrying pouch and hand-brakes. Then she manuevers into position and with much huffing and puffing settles into her seat. Lest you think I'm not sympathetic to the inconvenience of aging, keep in mind Ma tends to be a bit of an actress...not quite Academy Award material but nonetheless pretty good at times.
So off we go to the local Red Lobster, appetites increasing as we approach the restaurant. Settling in at our table we intently peruse the menu...except for Dad who has already decided on his favorite, Fish and Chips. The menu is quite expansive and the colorful pictures of various seafood concoctions don't make choices any easier.
Finally we all commit to our choice of entree and the meal begins. Beginning with the Ceasar salad, we all notice a rather strong presence of salt in the dressing. As the meal progresses we conclude that someone in the kitchen has an obvious love affair with the salt shaker since even the skin of the baked potatoe was coated with salt. Since a large part of the Florida population tends to be somewhat elderly, we wonder what percentage of the restaurant's clientele might notice an elevation in blood pressure after eating at this Red Lobster. Although the service was good and the food probably better with a little less salt....after all, how does one make coconut covered shrimp taste salty.....we were all feeling a bit dehydrated by the time we were done. Ending with a chocolate cake provided by the restaurant, we sang "Happy Birthday" to Ma as she blew out the candle.
In spite of toxic salt levels, a good time was had by all and Ma continues to be 39 and holding and holding and holding.
