Pancakes piled up til they reach the sky

The title of this post is from one of my favorite childhood memories, Mickey and the Beanstalk, and you can see the whole thing on YouTube.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

The song with the line about pancakes is in Part 1 at minute 5:45 (This is all for Sista G & Nana. They will appreciate it).

Oooh, and look what else I found whilst perusing Mickey, Peter & the Wolf, in 2 parts.

Tell me, really, what ISN'T on YouTube?

Anyway, back to the topic of pancakes. I told you I am easily distracted.

One of my favorite 4-letter 'f' words is food, and BS & I have the challenge of figuring out how to create really good-tasting food that accomplishes the main task of food - that is, to nourish us.

So, this morning, it was pancakes & syrup! Yay!!!!!!!

I hear a stunned silence from your end. You're thinking, "uh, yeah, right. Pancakes are diet food? Suuuuure." Au contraire, mes amis, my pancakes are packed with good things. Here's how it played out.

I didn't get around to having breakfast this morning, so noon rolls by and I start realizing that the vague hollow feeling inside is actually hunger. And waddaya know, BS is in the same boat. What I want to know is, if someone told me they forgot to eat, I would look at them in scorn. I would scoff at them. SCOFF, I tell you! But it happened, not only to me, but to both of us today. What are the odds?

So I go into the kitchen and see some reeeeeeally ripe bananas on the counter. What can I do with those bananas that will put bites of something in our maws as quickly as possible? 'Cause we're haungry! Muffins? Nope, they'll take too long. Wait, it's coming to me . . . . . . pancakes!

Beautiful, tender, tasty pancakes. Diet food? Totally, if eaten in moderation, and made with care. Moderation is the key to any lifestyle change that has any hope of lasting the rest of your life.

I start pulling things out and filling the counter, making it up as I went along. Pancakes really are stupidly easy to make. As long as you know roughly what proportion of dry stuff to mix with your wet stuff, you can have any kind of pancakes you want.

Aside - I have always made my own pancakes, and always with whole grains. The end product has a lovely brownish tint that you don't find in your usual Aunt Jemimas. But BS was used to them as he never got any other kind from me. When his little friends would come & spend the night, they would invariably want pancakes in the morning. No doubt the little friend was expecting fluffy white piles of starch that were a nutritional wasteland. When I would put the plate of brown pancakes in front of the eager little face, I would stand back and wait for the invariable look of horror. I was rarely disappointed.

Anyway, what ended up going into my blender were eggs, peanut oil, low-fat vanilla yogurt, more vanilla (vanilla is straight from heaven), a little wild honey, low-fat milk, a reeeeeally ripe banana, whole wheat flour, whole oat flour, the necessary leavenings, and . . . . .uh, I can't think of anything else.

No refined sugar, no white flour.

A quick spritz of spray on the non-stick griddle, and the drooling started.

Oops, I flipped that first one a bit too soon. BS decided to put a schmear of this on his, topped by a small drizzle of pure maple syrup:

"It contains no cholesterol, no trans-fats, no hydrogenated oils, and no high-fructose corn syrup. It is also gluten-free, vegan, and certified kosher pareve by the Orthodox Union"

And dark chocolate is health food, right? And just think of it - chocolate, peanut butter & banana pancakes. Be still, my heart. And don't they look good. (BTW, I only had 2, with no chocolate peanut butter. But I did have a bite of his. OMG!).

As I scraped the last bit of batter, some dripped from the spatula,

and when I flipped it, LOOK! It has a wee willie winkie. :-)

But now I have a big bag full of pancakes in the fridge, just ready for the toaster. Oh, and one more thing. Usually I mix up the pancakes in a bowl and use the blender for something else. We rarely have syrup on our pancakes. We have peach sauce - can of peaches (in juice), vanilla, and a bit of honey. Blitz it in the blender and it's better than syrup! But for some reason I used the blender for the batter, so it was not available for peach sauce. That made me sad.

And speaking of syrup, I don't care what kind of a diet you are on, I don't ever want to see this in your cupboard. If I do, there will be an awkward silence while I try to figure out a polite way to leave. Better to have a small amount of the real stuff than any amount of this bottle of chemicals. Who thought this would be a good thing? It is just wrong on so many levels. . .

So anyway, after breakfas . . . er . . . lunch, I went outside and had a happy 2 1/2 hours of mowing, sweeping, raking, edging, bagging, dragging, fixing the weed whacker, and mowing some more. And no, I did NOT use the lovely self-propelled feature on my mower. I pushed that bastard myself. And I have a hill.

Okay? I'm pooped.

Oh, one more thing ( I promise). For those of you who thought I was kidding about Paula Deen in my last post, I was totally serious. I give you her recipe for deep fried butter balls! Told ya. Makes me want one of these.

Reinventing Food

**Rambling post alert!!! Leave now if you know what's good for you!!!**

Part of the reinvention of myself, and now evidently BS as well, is being mindful of what we put in our bodies. Blah, blah blah, what a crock. Do you believe that? I know I don't even believe it myself, because I have seen the things that somehow magically appear in my pantry.

I didn't put them there, honest. BS. . .oops, King Hippo must have snuck 'em in when I wasn't looking. Yeah, that's it.

Do you ever wonder why people are hesitant to give their dogs junk food or put an off-brand of gasoline in their car, but yet their children will be chowing down on Fruit Loops as "part of a nutritious breakfast"? In what alternate universe does Fruit Loops provide any significant nutrition? See what their reaction would be if you told them, "You're out of dog food? That's okay, just give Fido a bowl of Fruit Loops." They would look at you as if you had snails sprouting from your ears. Don't want to give it to your dog? That's okay, just give it to your kids.

Oh, by the way, here are the ingredients for Fruit Loops (touted by Kellogg's as 'multi-grain') as found on their website:

SUGAR; CORN FLOUR; WHEAT FLOUR; OAT FLOUR; PARTIALLY HYDROGENATED VEGETABLE OIL (ONE OR MORE OF: COCONUT, COTTONSEED, AND SOYBEAN) †; SALT; SODIUM ASCORBATE AND ASCORBIC ACID (VITAMIN C); REDUCED IRON; NATURAL ORANGE, LEMON, CHERRY, RASPBERRY, BLUEBERRY, LIME, AND OTHER NATURAL FLAVORS; RED #40; BLUE #2; YELLOW #6; ZINC OXIDE; NIACINAMIDE; TURMERIC COLOR; BLUE #1; PYRIDOXINE HYDROCHLORIDE (VITAMIN B6); RIBOFLAVIN (VITAMIN B2); THIAMIN HYDROCHLORIDE (VITAMIN B1); VITAMIN A PALMITATE; ANNATTO COLOR; BHT (PRESERVATIVE); FOLIC ACID; VITAMIN D; VITAMIN B12.

Okay:

1. Saying something is 'multi-grain' is meaningless. Do you hear me, meaningless! Unless it specifically says "whole" in front of it, all it means is they took more than one type of flour and stripped them of every bit of goodness (the bran layer and the germ have all the goodies), and left you with nothing but the starch. Then they threw in a few vitamins to throw you off track. Helllllloooooo! I can get better vitamins from a small plastic bottle and eat a piece of cardboard for all the nutritional value that stuff has.
2. Partially hydrogenated oils are one of the worst things you can eat. They are even worse than butter, and that's not very far to go. They are a huge contributing factor in elevated blood cholesterol levels and chronic cardiovascular disease, and that's not just my opinion. For a more . . . uh, shall we say . . . one-sided opinion, look here. By the way, this includes Crisco, that staple of American pantries. Except mine, I like the butter ;-)
   

At least they didn't use high fructose corn syrup, which wreaks havoc with your blood glucose & insulin balance.

I didn't really mean to go on a rant here, but as long as I'm on a roll, I've got another gripe to get off my chest about the Food Network.

I like the Food Network. I like watching the Food Network. I have it on in the background quite frequently. I want to eat all that good-looking stuff. Here's one problem (out of many) with them and a general trend I am seeing a lot of lately.

Everywhere you look these days, something called "artisan" bread is appearing - on store shelves, in restaurants, on the Food Network. The overwhelming majority of it is WHITE BREAD. Just a step up from Wonder Bread people, really. But try to give them a slice of Wonder and they will look at you in scorn. Where did their common sense go? Don't tell me that I'm getting really good bread because it's "artisan" bread, then hand me a piece of white bread.

Wheat flour is a euphemism for white flour to trick you. Fool you. Sneak one in on you. And all the idiot chefs on the Food Network have bought in hook, line & sinker. Except one. They only have one chef (that I can think of) that pays attention to nutrition, and that's Ellie Krieger. Because of this, her shows have been relegated to the very undesirable timeslots of early morning. The rest of them wave their loaves of white "artisan" bread around, trying to one-up each other with flavors/textures/shapes, like a giant dick-waving contest. Whose bread is more "artisan"? Phooey.

wheat flour = white flour = bad
whole wheat flour = good (that word "whole" has to be there)

Please. Read the label. Unless it says "whole" wheat flour, it is nothing. but. white. bread.

The same goes for white rice and pasta. If it ain't brown, it ain't in my kitchen.
(Unless it's dessert, which makes no claim to be good for you. If it's a treat, I'm breaking out the white flour, white sugar, and butter. "Healthy" and "brownies" are incompatible terms, IMHO.)

Lest you think I am being an insufferable snob, this is the way it's supposed to work. Does it always work this way with me? Uh uh. I'm weak, I stumble, I falter, I want a Twinkie!

I won't follow these rules when being served at someone else's house. That would just be rude. Or while dining out, unless I can choose. But not every Italian restaurant has whole wheat pasta, and I do love my spaghetti. You gotta have your limits.

Some of the worst on Food Network for pimping out unhealthy eating habits are (click on their names for more fun reading):

Paula Deen - her favorite ingredients are butter, mayo, sour cream, butter, sour cream, mayo, butter, and butter. And deep frying anything she can get her hands on. And making breakfast sandwiches out of eggs, sausage, cheese, and Krispy Kreme donuts. And some of it looks horrifyingly good.

Sandra Lee - all her food comes from boxes, bags, cans, and various other packaging options. She is in love with sodium & msg-laced seasoning packets. "Pre-" is her favorite term, and preservatives & chemicals are her favorite ingredients. All she cares about is being able to "see" the flavor in whatever sh*t she stirs together. Who cares if it is basically poison? That and ingesting as much booze as possible because "cocktail time is the best time of the day". She is completely serious about this. ~~Shudder~~

Guy Fieri - he likes to deep fry everything, too, and although his food isn't quite as bad as the ones above, I dislike him on principle. I mean, really, when you go out of your way to look and act like a moron, you end up resembling something else entirely (thanks to BuckyKatt for the horse pic. Now it can be linked to another site for more nefarious purposes).

http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J8mzvC2H6_Q/Sa_XQUQ1iAI/AAAAAAAAApQ/l2OzwzRCrZw/s320/guy-fieri-pits.jpg

Trust me, the horse's ass is an amazing resemblance. That, and the fact that he usually wears his sunglasses on the back of his head. Dip-wad.

What was the point of all this?

Oh, I remember - reinventing my food. Here's how this is going to work. Like I said, I like to watch the Food Network. I have copied many a tasty-sounding recipe from there and many other sources. So, what I'm gonna do is pick out one each week (maybe more, we'll see) that looks really good, and see if I can't pack more of a nutritional punch by doing a little tweaking. If I have to go on a diet (doncha hate that word), I want to make each cruelly rationed bite count.

Excuse me now while I go take stock of my pantry. I may have to pitch out some things. Or feed it to the animals. Heh.

In Memorium

2 years ago today, the nation wrapped its arms around a tiny town in the Virginia mountains after a devastating tragedy. Other Virginia colleges, along with colleges everywhere, joined hands with their Hokie rivals . . .

. . . and the nation spoke with one voice, "We are all Hokies!"

Remembering the Hokies - the students, staff, and residents of Blacksburg - on this 2-year anniversary.

From the Candlelight Vigil 2 years ago, taken on the fly with my cell phone:

Some scenes of the memorials in front of Burruss Hall a year later:

We will never forget. We are Virginia Tech.

Meet Our New Alter Egos

http://farm1.static.flickr.com/15/22416142_0b2f6a1958.jpg?v=0

Meet Busty Boomer, my new alter ego for this 'Biggest Loser' contest. She contains so many of my critical elements - red hair, large ass, luscious cleavage, laptop, reading glasses, likes purple, pet dragon - yay! Just no freckles & blue eyes. Sigh, can't have everything, so use your imagination.

BS has also decided to play along, and henceforth will be known as King Hippo.

This evening we will do our weigh-in and report the humiliating results to Big Chief Chubby.

I already want a cookie.

I Done Did Gone & Done It Again

Do you ever blurt out things and then say to yourself "What the HELL was I thinking?" I do it all the time. There is a reason, really. The filter from my brain to my vocal cords is disintegrating over time, and it doesn't always function appropriately. It is a real medical condition. I am looking for medication even now.

So, I did it again and opened mouth before brain was engaged. Whilst visiting with the family this past weekend, my middle sister, or Sista G as she is calling herself these days, told me of a challenge she is playing in.

Seems some friends invited them to go on a cruise in July with a bunch of people, and they have turned it into their own version of a "Biggest Loser" contest. Everyone who is going on the cruise, if they want to play along, has to lose 10% of their body weight by cruise time or suffer dire consequences. I don't know, the losers will have to dance naked on the Lido deck or something. If they do lose the weight, they get something really cool, like a free cruise around the world I think, so you know I wanted to play along.

I'm not going on the cruise, but I figured it was another incentive for me to get off by butt and continue with the reasons I started this daggum blog in the first place. I'm already involved in something similar with my buddy in Texas, although I think both of us had conveniently forgotten about it. Sorry BuckyKatt.

Now I have to work at it again and have 2 parties I am answerable to. Sheesh.

And these cruise freaks (to borrow Sista's word) don't let you sneak away and do this in the dark. There is a weekly weigh-in that is announced to the entire cruising world, or so it seems. And I have to have a NAME. A whack name. An anatomically correct, insulting name.

Whaaaaaat have I done? These are the players during this body-mass-melt-down (real name portions omitted):

• Tubby
• Freak Overload
• Wobble
• Wide Load
• Porker
• Chubby

I will be known as "Busty Boomer". I have 96 days to go. Hey wait, I got a late start, so I only have to lose 9%, right?

Listen people, I am not posting a picture of myself in a thong no matter what the reward.

ps - I'm trying to convince BS to join in. He said "What's the reward?" I said that for us, it will be the unbridled joy of looking ourselves in the mirror and knowing we have added years to our lives and greater pleasure for the people having to look at us. Isn't that enough reward? He said "Nope. These M&M's taste pretty damn good."

Abrupt change of subject alert!! Why do I get excited when I find out I'm getting a nice tax refund. It was my money to begin with, right? But I can't help it. Feels like Christmas.

Feedjit Revisited

I am considering whether or not to keep the Feedjit tracker (live traffic feed) on this site.

Why, you ask? 2 reasons:

1. I can spend way too much time looking at it. Adding cities to my Google maps. Keeping a Word Perfect (NOT MS Word!) document with all the cities in alphabetical order. I think I may be just a wee bit OCD about it. Oh, and in case you are interested, as of right now, people from 173 US and 66 international cities have visited my humble blog. See what I mean about "way too much time"?
2. I have seen some commentary on the web from people who hate it and their reasons are not all that whacked.

So, should I take it off? Should I leave it there? What to do, what to do!

What do you think? Please offer a comment (anonymous if you like) and take the 2 polls over to the right if you don't mind.

The Empty Wallet

Isn't it a beautiful thing? My last one lasted right around 20 years. That's almost as long as BS has been alive. I'd say we got our money's worth out of it. Or I should say, my mother's money, since it used to be hers. But she moved from her house to her condo-on-the-bay, and now nary a blade of grass does she have to cut or stick does she have to pick up. She has "people" to do that . . . for the communal grass.

So I inherited the mower when I moved into my house 13 years ago, and it has been well cared for ever since. I kissed it goodnight every day and wrapped its reliable Honda motor with a blankie every night.

I heard you snort. You don't believe me, do you? But it did drink only the finest high-test gasoline and went to the lawn mower clinic for regular checkups, hence its years of loyal service.

But alas, even the most well made machine must eventually roll off into the sunset, either that or cost more to fix than it's worth. That day came this year, so BS gets to keep the old one as a tinker toy and I get a shiny new one (on sale, thank you very much) for a little more than the repairs on the old one would have cost. Such a deal, right?

Oh, and it didn't come from a big box store. The dealer, Land and Coates, is a local dealer with excellent service. They are the ones that tended to Mower Sr. with such tender loving care. Now, they will do the same with Junior. And I expect 20 years out of him as well.

Ready for the storm . . .

Those are the opening lyrics to one of my favorite songs, written by Dougie MacLean, a Scottish musician.

Went to my mother's condo on the bay today to hang with the family, including the niece & nephew-in-law that just got back from a month in the Middle East dodging bullets & tear gas canisters (after being treated like pashas at my "sister's" new house in Cairo). They had the most amazing pictures of their travels. Makes me want to go back to Egypt myself.

Oh hey, the family there owns a school. I can teach again - YAY! It's a plan. I'm packing tomorrow.

Oops, I digressed again. I am easily distracted.

Okay, so while I plan out my future in my head, I'll go on with my original point here. What was it? Oh yeah, storm.

It was a lovely spring day when I got to mom's - blue skies, fluffy clouds, calm water. But soon the clouds rolled in, and a current of dark water crawled across from the north like some giant fungus. Nice image, huh? Really, it looked like a special effect from the movies. Spooky.

Honestly, sometimes my life is such a hardship, having to go to my mother's and have to look out on this, maybe even for hours at a time. Pure torture. Really.

This is the alien invasion, in sequence:



















Ooooh look, white caps on the bay. That's not something you see everyday.

And it turned cold and windy to boot, so the windsurfers had a go at it.







!Random change of subject alert!

My poor mother puts up with a lot from her children. None of us have ever really grown up, and deep down we are all still 12 at heart. Before I got there today, Sister G had some fun with her Easter centerpiece on the dining room table. Sigh. We are, all 4 of her children, such a trial most of the time. Don't worry Mom, we know it too.



May the blessings of Easter wrap around you and hold you close, just like these li'l lam . . . oops, that didn't come out right. Sorry Mom.

Happy Easter everyone!

Hidden Dollar Store Treasures

After the Kid's haircut yesterday, we wandered over to Pembroke Mall and killed some time until it was time for the bus to pick them up. One stop was the Dollar Store. Actually, I don't know if it was THE "Dollar Store" or some other version of the same cheap crap, but upon investigating the items on the shelves (none of which was made in the USA, not even the Colgate toothpaste), I came across this:

Here's what I want to know, is this for your leather "nurse" outfit? The one with the black leather boots (since the polish is black)?

'Cause all the nurses I work with (and I work with a lot) wear black leather boots to work. Yeah, that's it.

Was that the best hair cut ever, or what?

Brandon got a birthday treat from his favorite nurse today and I tagged along as the photographer. The Hooters of haircuts, the cleavage of clippers - Knockouts. The chairs are soft, there is a TV at each station set to sports channels, and the ladies who run their fingers through your hair are lovely, skilled with the scissors, and . . .uh . . .dressed to please.

He was greeted with smiles and the inevitable scurrying to figure out how to accommodate his wheelchair, especially when they heard it was his birthday.

His lovely assistant today was Sarah . . .

. . . and she could NOT have been nicer. First things first, though. The best part about a haircut is the wash, with the fingers massaging your skull, so we stood there for a few minutes, staring back & forth between the sink & the wheelchair. Okaaaay, how the heck is this going to work?

Since it tilts all the way back, we took off the headrest and I held up his head while Sarah washed his hair with Axe. And let me tell you, he does NOT like his head to be upside down, even for a few minutes.

picture by his good friend - not me

I am beginning to think that Axe is list of required school supplies of anyone between the ages of 14-24 with a dangling participle these days.

She did a masterful job working around the headrest. Also, she was able to wield her scissors with nary a nick, since he wriggled the entire time. And she never lost her smile, even when concentrating to keep from cutting his ear off.

"Oh, don't worry," she said, "I have kids at home too." What an absolute sweetie she was.

Then the trimmers . . .

. . . and the Axe hair gel . . .

. . . and he's looking mighty fine.

Because he is so charming in addition to it being a birthday treat, the haircut was on the house. So Miss Sarah got a well-deserved large tip. If you are ever in Virginia Beach, and you have the necessary level of testosterone, I highly recommend the location on Constitution Drive. Very nice people, skilled staff, and . . . well, you know.

Then Nurse A wanted to take him across the street to the mall to get his picture with the Easter Bunny. I guess he figured he had to humor us after we hauled his hiney all over town.

More fun with animal names

A rafter of turkeys

http://www.bnl.gov/bnlweb/pubaf/pr/photos/2001/wild-turkeys.jpg

A bale of turtles

http://z.about.com/d/gonyc/1/0/8/R/turtles.jpg

A pitying or dule of turtledoves

http://k41.pbase.com/o4/32/633432/1/60367866.TurtleDoves.jpg

A pod of walrus

http://images.livescience.com/images/071008-walrus-04.jpg

A fall of woodcocks

http://www.gourmetfly.com/image7%5B1%5D.jpg woodcocks

A descent of woodpeckers

http://www.fotothing.com/photos/cc4/cc4046a473b18d842a6ca9e1f4d96971.jpg

edited with more from the San Diego Zoo:

an obstinancy of buffalo
a flutter of butterflies (or should that be flutterbies?)
an intrusion of cockroaches
a gulp of cormorants
a kine of cows
a bask of crocodiles
a memory of elephants
a business of ferrets
a flamboyance of flamingos
a skulk of foxes (hey, I have those in my back yard)
a tower of giraffes
a kettle of hawks
a bloat of hippos
a cackle of hyenas
a smack of jellyfish
a leap of leopards
a barrel of monkeys (you think I'm 'funnin' you, don't you? haha)
a barren of mules ('cause they are, aren't they)
to be continued . . . .


one of my beloved 'skulk'

un-Wired

Ah, I missed you, my little friend.

http://digiknow.typepad.com/photos/uncategorized/2008/02/04/laptop_heart_2.jpg

During my endless time without you, I stared at the TV in my lonely hotel room, since I left my book in the car. Staring, staring. Switching between a special on the life of Jesus on the Discovery Channel & Hollywood's worst plastic surgery on E!

Sigh.

Oh, okay, it was only 34 hours and 13 minutes, but still . . .

If only you had been with me, I could have passed the time in much more productive and enlightening pursuits by reading blogs, playing solitaire, & doing crossword puzzles. Yeah.

Plus, the bathroom lighting in my hotel room was horrible. It turned my freckles green.
Quite the disturbing sight at 6 am.

My friend Rosie will be mad, because as it turns out, I didn't have my camera with me after all. So, no pictures of that riveting, edge-of-your-seat meeting about the future of physical therapy clinical internships.
Dang.

Going up there was terrific, though. What is it about a road trip on a beautiful day that makes me positively giddy with excitement? Giddy. Llllliterally dancing in my seat as I emerged from the hole of the Hampton Roads Bridge Tunnel into the bright sunshine.

This is the height of redbud season in this part of the country and the highways were full of them. But I cannot see them anymore without thinking of April 17, 2007. It was the day after the Virginia Tech shootings, and I was driving to Blacksburg like a bat out of Hell to get to BS and my niece and nephew and all their friends. It was another gorgeous day then, one of the most beautiful I have ever seen, and the redbuds were in full bloom, covering the mountains in a purple haze. The image is seared on my brain as part of that day.

Virginia even has a whole festival to the redbud, it's that important here, especially in the mountains.

Hark, the sound . . .

. . . of Tarheel voices
Ringing clear & true
Singing Carolina's praises
Shouting NCU!

http://madspaniarddesigns.com/NCAA%20Page/TarHeels.jpg

. . .They stomped. . .
. . .They tromped. . .
. . .They whomped. . .
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!THEY WON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

!Congratulations Roy's Boys!

Withdrawal Symptoms are on the Way

Today, in just a couple hours, I will be driving to Northern Virginia, Arlington to be specific, for a day-long meeting tomorrow. I am actually looking forward to the meeting, since it lets me dabble a tiny bit back into my former world of academia, which I miss so much, every day.

The meeting will end at 5:00 pm tomorrow, at which point I will indulge myself with a veerrrry leisurely dinner, since I am NOT stoopid enough to try to battle rush hour traffic out of DC. No way, no sir, fersure. I figure I will get home around midnight. Bummer.

Another good thing is that I will get to see my niece & her husband. They have just returned from spending the last month exploring the Middle East and lived to tell the tale.

I plan on passing the time waiting for the traffic to thin out by having a delightful time looking at the latest edition of "Uncle John's Bathroom Reader" (is that listed with my favorite books in my profile? If not, it will be in a minute). Except I will be either in a restaurant booth or in my car with the windows down. I won't have my keister parked on the can while I read. It's my oldest sister's fault, my Nana, that I am in love with Uncle John. She started it.

What does any of that have to do with withdrawal symptoms? I was getting to that. When I leave my house, I will turn the computer off and leave it in my living room. It will not accompany me on this little trip.

So, because I will sleep in a bit on Tuesday morning, that makes close to 24 hours of no computer. No internet, no e-mail, no blogs, no forums, no games, no crosswords, no looking at my Feedjit to see who visited, no ABC News feed.

Sheesh. I don't know if I will survive. Oh, who am I kidding? I will turn it on when I get home, no matter how late it is.

ps - I'll have my cell phone, and would love some conversation to pass the time driving . . . with a headset.

Change of plans . . . again

It started out with a promise to the boy, to do something with him.

It continued with a trip to meet with Rick Hoyt of Team Hoyt for some inspiration.

Then it became a 75 mile bike ride for MS up on the southern end of the Eastern Shore, but transportation & logistics were our enemies. Too far away and much too much time involved.

So it became a 60 mile bike ride with the Tour de Cure for diabetes, held locally.

Then he got worried about being in the jogging stroller (attached to my bicycle) for so long, and it turned into the 10 mile Tour de Cure family fun ride.

An additional event was added - the Shamrock 8k here at the oceanfront - with our local Team Hoyt and his physical therapist. He had a blast.

But transportation was again our enemy. I found out that the handicapped buses don't go down to southern Chesapeake, where the Tour de Cure is being held. Suffice it to say I investigated other transportation options and went to talk it over with him. His final decision?

Bike rides at the beach and Cape Henry. Easy transportation, he gets to look at the beach, easier access to facilities (because, well, you know), and we work on getting a ride together for United Cerebral Palsy - a cause much more near & dear to his heart, for obvious reasons.

http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1410/1118755967_c335b570df.jpg?v=0

This is kinda what I would have looked like, except no hairy legs. And no beard. And long red hair.

Transportation is a major issue in our little scenario. Since I am a staff member at the Home, I must understandably abide by their policies and procedures when I take him out, meaning my options are limited. If I use a private vehicle, I have to be able to tether down his car seat. It just does barely fit into my car, but then I would have to cut a hole in the roof for his head to stick through. Now, I'm very fond of the kid, but nuh uh, ain't gonna happen. Same problem with BS's pick-up.

And if I did find a private vehicle that would fit the car seat, there is the problem of his wheelchair. It is a power chair and weighs just about 137, 258 pounds. Or close to. Ain't no way I'm getting that thing in anyone's trunk, or their van, or their anything else. So that leaves me with the public handicapped transportation. We used this before to go to the movies with BS, and it was great. The only drawback is they don't go everywhere, like southern Chesapeake or any other rural part of our fair region. We are limited to the main bus routes. Still, that service will prove to be a blessing when we want to go out.

So now what? I still want to do something soon, and I got to thinking. Maybe I'll walk on over to my mother's beach condo for dinner some nice Saturday soon, huh? Does that sound good? Oh right, I can just hear you sneering now. Big deal.

But it is, really. I'll have to start at the crack of dawn, since she lives on the bay, a splash over 13 miles from my house. There will be plenty of places along the way to stop & pee or get a drink, and by the time I get there, I'm gonna be hungry, so dinner better be good. By that time, the view off her balcony will be a lovely sunset like this one. . .

And you know what's funny? 13 miles from her house to mine, and that's only in a small part of Virginia Beach. It is one big-ass city. If I centered this Google Earth image correctly, I have Virginia Beach from top (the Chesapeake Bay) to bottom (the North Carolina line), and my little stroll is only in the northern part. Click on it and it will enlarge.

First things first, though. I need some good walking shoes. Because, after all, 13 miles is a half-marathon. Whoo-hoo!!