If you’re a Red Bull imbiber, I guess you know you’re entitled to a $10 refund. It seems some disillusioned Red Bull “athletes” won a class-action lawsuit claiming they’d been misled by the sports beverage maker’s claims that drinking Red Bull would boost their performance and reaction times. I’ll reserve judgement as to whether they were incredibly gullible or just thought of a way to boost their chances of fifteen minutes of fame. They’re sure not getting rich off it! But it did get me thinking and I ‘d like your opinion.
Should I sue the avocado growers who banked on me seeing the bright red RIPE and not the smaller blue-bordered when soft.
But I guess I don’t have any legal leg to stand on since misleading as it may be – they are telling the truth.
And how about this. I didn’t buy it but one of my co-workers did. The words screamed out at me when I opened the fridge in the break room.
Now I ask you – fruit but no pulp? Hmm.
Get a load of this statement. Domino sugar is taking a chance on my interpretation.
Oops! Guess you can’t see it. I’ll write it out.
Well, I’m a firm believer in karma, so I’ll let these go. But there is one question that’s been going round and round in my inquiring mind for many moons. Anybody remember Keds and PF Flyers, the Nikes of the 1950’s?
Did Keds live up to their promises?
How about PF Flyers?
My mother would never buy them for me so I had to make do with generic sneakers. She said all those ads were just nonsense. But maybe you had a pair of Keds or PF Flyers. Was my mother right? If she was – you just might have the makings of a class action suit.
I never knew since my mother refused to pay their prices. She said it was all just nonsense p. so any baby boomers out there, was she right? If so, maybe you can sue for nonsense. Red Bullers did.
When I arrived home from work last Wednesday, this was my first clue that it had been an exciting day at The House of Mars :
Seeing the truck wasn’t a surprise.
Seeing how close it was less than a yard from the house was!
I’d arranged (sort of) to have two trees cut down. One was growing very close to the house, and its branches were dangling perilously over the power and cable lines. I do hate to end any life but since nearly half the lower branches were dead I rationalized I was putting it out of its misery. Plus, it had misbehaved in a storm a few years back – dropping a limb, the size of a small tree across the walk.
I asked around the neighborhood if anyone knew of a good tree surgeon, and heard the same answer time after time. “Lussier, he’s the best there is.”
I know it’s the rule of the wise homeowner to seek out three companies and get quotes from all, but it seemed the man could do no wrong. And so finally, after putting it off for over five years, I made the call on a Monday morning. Everyone had warned me Lussier could be slow to respond so I was not surprised when I had to leave a message for him. No problem, I thought, I’m not on a hurry. Procrastination suits me well, but drat! I found a message on my phone Saturday – he could come by on Sunday morning to take a look! Sigh
Long story short – He gave me a great price on the two trees and said he would clear out several pesky ones that had sprung up on the slope down to the road and seemed to be losing their sense of vertical.
That was it!He gave me a great price and said I’d come home one say that week and find my trees gone.
True, to his reputation, a week passed and the trees were still there. Then, the following Wednesday, he came, he saw, he conquered.
There was more but one of my neighbors with a wood stove had already begun work clearing the yard.
The puzzling part was that there was not a soul around – just the trucks . It was a bit ghostly. The neighbor who’d sung his praises the loudest surmised he was on another job. Without his truck? I thought, but said nothing. Instead I called Lussier and of course, left a message.
“Come back for your money.” I also assumed he wanted his trucks!
I got back no message but the next morning at 8, there he was climbing out of a pickup truck and coming up my driveway – coffee cup in hand.
Yes, he’d got my message but it was late to call back. He’d been out “riding dirt bikes with the boys.” He’d said he’s be back that evening for his money but right now he “had to drive to work.” And sure enough, faster than I back my car down the driveway, he and his truck were gone
PS – Seven days and counting – the money is still waiting on my dining room table.
Dear Yankee Fans
This is not a letter of condolence although judging by your long faces, one would think Oh Captain, Your Captain had passed away. The media coverage didn’t help, did it. I lost count of how many times the morning news flashed this live shot last Thursday -
- during weather reports, when the forecaster fretted over the possibility of rain,
- during the sports segment when the commentator reminded us this would be the last time Oh Captain, Your Captain would be playing in pinstripes;
- when they went to the live reporter in front of the stadium a good twelve hours before that dreaded last home game would begin.
Please notice, the flags are not at half-staff.
But if I was drowning in Derek Jeter stories the morning of the last pinstripe home woe ’tis me, the morning after found me washed up on shore. But at least you were all happy. One of my most rabid Yankee fan co-workers greeted me with a beaming smile as he rhapsodized “Can you think of a better way to end a career?’
You probably are saying, aw, she’s just another Yankee hater, and that’s not true – it’s the fans….oops, let’s not go there.
What I’m saying is Choose to be happy.
Derek had a long career. He’d dreamed of being a Yankee since his first little league game. He’s said many times it was a dream come true. And if that’s not enough to put a song in your heart – He’s a multi-millionaire. He has a castle in Florida. He has a long life ahead of him with women lining up to share it with him. So come on, smile – you can do it.
Besides, I have a funny feeling we’ll be seeing a lot more of him.
Now if you excuse me, I have to psych myself for my team’s playoff game Thursday all on my lonesome……
The Only Living Detroit Tigers Fan in New York City
FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO RECEIVE MY BLOG IN EMAIL, I APOLOGIZE FOR SENDING A ROUGH DRAFT YESTERDAY – MY BAD. HERE’S THE REAL THING
Summer has come and gone but it’s left a treasure trove of memories. Remember the MacDonald’s parking lot I showed you where they hold a weekly classic cars show?
Well, it’s just a McDonald’s parking lot again.
And now, my deck is quiet except for the chairs who vie for my attention, each Saturday and Sunday morning, whispering, “sit here sit here ” as I set down my coffee and paper.
You may see an empty deck but if I linger long enough I see the gossamer memories of friends and loved ones sitting, talking, and enjoying each other’s company at my barbecues.
Yes, barbecues, as in four. You see, The House of Mars, being what it is, strains at the seams if I have more than eight people for a sit-down dinner. So rather than repeat the weeks of stress I went through the summer I had gala BBQ of twenty people, the daily visits to weather.com for long term forecasts, all the obsessing over what I’d do if it rained, I broke it up into several small gatherings that can fit around the dining room table of Mother Nature wants it that way. Yes, it can be hectic for a lone hostess but it’s worth it.
This all reminds me of the meaning of a housewarming party. When I was in the process of getting divorced I dreaded the prospect of moving into the apartment I’d found. Although I loved the apartment, and looked forward to starting a new life, the idea of entering an empty space where not even the heartbeat of a cat would be there to warm it was a chilling thought. But then I had a dinner party, and friends began dropping in, and before I knew it, the apartment felt as comfy as a robe and bedroom slippers.
So now, while I do not look forward to a long cold winter, at least I won’t be quite so cold as I shovel the snow off the deck. I’ll be warmed by the memories of fifteen years of BBQs and all those who made them possible – human, feline, and canine.
Is it really September? While running this morning, I came upon a walker who’s a high school teacher. I asked her when the first day of school was, and she said “Tomorrow.” Having been there and done that as a teacher, I quipped “I’m sorry.” Her response? “It had to happen some day.
I guess I should take that to heart. I succeeded in wringing every moment out of summer but now that it’s labor Day + 2, I have to agree with her. It happened. Summer’s over, and to add insult to injury, I’d been really banking on spending the whole 3-day weekend at the lake, but @#!&* !! it was a rainy weekend .
It gets worse, today was the type of day I’d been waiting for in vain all summer – 90 degrees and extremely humid. And I had to work! So I’m finding solace remembering a day at Jones Beach a couple of weeks ago ————–
I decided to take a break from baking in the sun so I excused myself from friends to take a solitary walk and be with myself. That was all self needed to ramble on. Being a captive audience I had no choice but to listen.
First thing we came upon was a flag up by the bath house. In some kind of weird synapse intersection my mind said “Where’s the bear?”
I realized a deja vu moment had collided with reality, and for a moment I was seeing the district office of Oak Grove School District in San Jose where I used to teach, and where the state flag of California was always waving in the breeze.
The shapes of the buildings were similar, as were the colors plus the flat landscape……. then my focus popped into gear and I wondered if the connection wasn’t even more circuitous …
This is the flag that started it all. It’s flying over the First Aid station. Put a hyphen in the middle and you get Medi-Cal which is California’s state Medicaid program.
(No one ever said my mind works like other people’s – especially where words are involved.)
Now that the California state flag was on my mind I wondered “Where the heck is the New York state flag – after all, this is a New York State Park”
I set off in search. I decided to walk along the boardwalk. I used to walk on it with my family many moons ago but back then it was a soft wood board walk – as in SPLINTERS, and it gave off a damp tar-like smell
But between Superstorm Sandy and medical research, the nostalgic feel of the boardwalk and the smell live only in my memory. Sandy demolished most of the boardwalk, and creosote, the wood preservative substance responsible for the smell, was found to be cancerous. So the new boardwalk built last year is made of ipe bethebera, a Brazilian hardwood that is so hard, nails will not penetrate. The boards have to be screwed in
(Editorial commeny: Speaking of screwed. Brazilian hardwood? Is New York screwing up the rainforest !)
Deciding to visit the bathroom as long as I was here, I came upon this sign.
Is this term a blast from the past or what? But I guess it says it all, doesn’t it?
With all the free-form rambling my mind was doing, it forgot what it was looking for in the first place, but my eyes find it – the New York State flag!
But then, as I head back to my friends on the beach, my eyes find something I wish they didn’t.
At the bleep bleep beach? what the bleep?
Since this blog is rated PG, my mind’s ramblings had to be cut by the censor!
I love everything about summer but number two on my list, after going to the beach, is taking care of my garden. Like any mother I feed my plant babies and shop for them – delicious foods like fish emulsion and blood meal. I usually purchase these from Home Depot, but was in a hurry one Saturday and since I was already in Wal-Mart, decided to see if their garden department had what I needed.
Not only did they not have either, but I was somewhat dismayed to find that the products that supply plant nutrients were outnumbered by those that promised death – to insects, weeds, moss – you name it
and the Ugly!
I don’t know why but it troubled me on a deep fundamental level. I actually feel sorry for the weeds I pull. Now I was on a quandary, weighing the end against the means. Some people spray, I pull. It’s all the same to the weeds. Thankfully someone pointed out that I was protecting my flowers and vegetable plants because it’s a dog eat dog world, with everything sending down roots and competing for water.
As it turned out I could have left the weeds alone……. because the deer got there first. I went out to water one morning and suffered instant numbing devastation. I kid you not. I was late getting to work because it took me a while to break out of shock. Was my live and let live attitude being tested?
Remember my tomato plants and cucumber vines?
Back in July
They don’t look like that anymore
The tomatoes fared a bit better,
But they’re soldiering on. Wounded, but still nurturing their tomatoes.
And so are the cucumbers, bless their little hearts!
See the cuke (pickle) to the right of the stake.
This called for action, but not too much. The most destructive I could get was repelling them with the noxious odor of musty rotten eggs.
So far it’s worked. But the sixty-four thousand dollar question is……. Are they just waiting for the tomatoes to ripen?