Thermostat Wars

Well, it’s furnace season already, and the gender wars are starting up again in full force. He wants the house cold enough to hang meat in, and I want to survive without seeing my breath in the living room.

Readers, grab your thermostats!

I'm like a reptile, cold all the time once the thermometer drops below 70 degrees. My internal thermostat doesn’t work very well, so I have a narrow temperature range in which I’m actually, well, comfortable. A few degrees lower and I’m reaching for socks and a sweater, and a few degrees higher and I’m flushed and fanning myself. It’s crazy.

Of course I share living quarters with a man whose thermogenic (yes, I made that up) needs are far different from mine. Just don’t tell my husband. Kidding. Of course, I’m talking about the hubster, the Center of the Universe (CoTU.)

He’s actually far more normal than I am in this regard, but ONLY in this regard.

The temp is always a problem for me; I can't seem to muster up any metabolic function at all... It's sad, really. And the CoTU doesn't get it-- he's never cold. How do couples like us end up together? Different religions are a piece of cake compared to this issue. Multiple blankets on my side of the bed, none on his. If I understand anything at all from the weather reports I’ve watched over the years, I think that where the warm front meets the cold front right in the middle of our bed, it should actually be snowing...

Remember in January when I had my deviated septum fixed? Well, before the surgery, the nurses kept offering to put warm blankets on me. I accepted each and every time, and by the time they took me into the operating room I was under so many layers that the surgeon had to bill extra time to unearth me. (Try the veal—tip your servers, I’ll be here all week.)

Today I was at the dermatologist’s office, which I decided I like better than all other doctor’s visits because it’s the only place where they don’t make you get on the freaking scale just because you came in for a check-up. Anyway, as the doctor’s assistant showed me into the exam room, she asked me if I needed anything. “A parka would be nice,” I said. She agreed that the office is pretty darn cold, but I noticed that she was in short sleeves. Bummer. I’m beginning to think it’s just me…

The other thing about furnace weather is that I’m drinking a lot more coffee. I’m not necessarily thirsty, I just use it to elevate my body temperature. It’s also very effective at keeping my hands warm. Of course with coffee beans selling at $9-$10/pound, this is going to be an expensive season. At least in the hot weather, I’m just drinking tons of cold water. Cost: pretty much $0.00/pound. We will either have to adjust the budget, or I’ll have to make it up somehow. Maybe I’ll take in ironing—that generates a pleasant heat…

So we don’t have a dog to throw on our laps for warmth, (remember the “Three-Dog Night”?) but we’ve got each other. CoTU generates enough heat to warm the tip of my nose and take the blue out of my fingernails. I’m pretty good at layering up the socks and the sweaters, and trying not to be a wimp about the cold. Now if I could just get him to hang that side of beef somewhere else…

I Missed National Coffee Day???

So it turns out that Wednesday was National Coffee Day. Did I have to be the very last person on the planet to find this out?


It’s not as if I don’t drink my standard eleventy-three cups a day, yes, even in the heat of summer. I just love the stuff. Sue me.

It’s not even about the caffeine, because I’m strictly a decaf drinker, for a variety of reasons, most of which fall under the heading of “I’ll take boring topics for $600, Alex.” But the flavor of choice is hazelnut decaf, just in case you were going to send me a shipment for my birthday, which I believe you forgot, by the way.

Wow. I’m beginning to sound angry. I’m beginning to scare myself, and this is WITHOUT caffeine. Good thing I never touch the stuff, right?

So the only reason I even found out about National Coffee Day AT LAST, is that my small-h hero, Grammar Girl, Tweeted about the difference between “expresso” and “espresso”. In case you missed it, (bwah-hah-hah), “expresso” would be slang for “speedy”, and “espresso” is the coffee drink.

Now it’s possible that the whole reason I missed this non-event event Wednesday is that it was the birthday of three very important people: my stepson Jason (he had a great birthday), my stepdaughter Jaime (she had a great birthday) and my capital-H Personal Hero and Spiritual Guide, Gwen Ifill.

I haven’t heard from Gwen about her birthday, but she wasn’t on the Newshour that night, so let’s just hope it was a good time for Gwen, too. (She doesn’t write, she doesn’t call… go raise children…)

Anyhoo, I hope all you coffee lovers out there celebrated big time, and next year I’ll be on the alert for National Coffee Day. That way, when I go to bed the night before, and hang my IV bag of Mornin’ Joe on the pole, I can put a bow on it and feel festive.

P.S. I can't believe September's already over! Waaaah! Nothing says 'end-of-summer' more than this-- not Labor Day, not stashing the white shoes or purse, not back-to-school, not anything. Once you start writing 'October' on your checks, you know the whole season's gone... Ah, well... I'm just saying... Bring on the Halloween candy!

In a World Gone Mad...

Is it just me, or has the world truly gone mad?


No, it’s not about the oil spill in the Gulf. Wait, did I just call a 20 million gallon a day gusher a spill? Yikes, I did, and it’s still not even about that.

It’s not the lunatic fringe elements of the world trying to get their hands on nuclear weapons, nerve gas, or other weapons of mass destruction.

It’s not the massive and horrific issue of human trafficking, selling women and children into a sexual slavery that is pretty much incomprehensible. Although it should be.

It’s not the rampant use of handguns in this country used to murder an estimated 13,000 people every year.

It’s not about the 100,000 people who die EVERY YEAR in hospitals due to medical ERRORS.

It’s not about the fact that more people will show up to protest cruelty to a dog than cruelty to a woman or child.

It’s not about the fact that I’ve carried this on much too long, and I should have gotten to the point long ago. Sue me.

It’s about this. This packet of “Non-dairy Coffee Creamer”. Exhibit A, your honor.

I’m lactarded. I’ve said it before, but it’s nothing to dwell on, and it’s not as if I’m complaining about some horrible disease. Big whoop—I can’t drink milk or milk products any more. So I miss cheese and I miss ice cream (big time) and I even miss milk itself, but hey, as Patsy Cline once said, (or at least Jessica Lange said it in a movie (“Sweet Dreams”) playing Patsy Cline) “People in hell want ice water, but that don’t mean they get it.” So I suck it up and deal with it.

One of the consequences of said lactardation is that I can’t have cream in my coffee. I use Coffee-Mate at home, but on the road, it’s not usually available.

So one recent morning, en route home from my son’s wedding, in a hotel breakfast buffet, I picked up the little packet of powdered stuff that I normally stay an arm’s length away from. I don’t know what possessed me to take it, but I guess the devil made me do it.

My husband, the Center of the Universe, noticed me flicking it with my index finger, preparing to rip it open. “Desperate?” he asked.

“Must be,” I muttered, and I began to rip the little envelope apart.

Whoops—just in time I caught sight of the bold face words at the bottom of the back of the packet. I thought, “Hmm. Perhaps I picked up the wrong thing.” I flipped it over in my hand, and revisited the front of the packet. No, that’s what I was going for.  It does actually say "non-dairy."

Now do you see my problem? The world has truly gone mad. It’s non-dairy, but it contains milk. Okay, what the what???

New and Improved? Say It Ain't So

Dear Coffee-mate,


What were you thinking? Once upon a time I could pop open my trusty bottle of Fat-Free Hazelnut Coffee-mate, topple a blob into my coffee, and enjoy my favorite morning taste treat.

You had to go and change it, didn’t you? 

Back in the day—like, until a couple of months ago—it was all so simple. When we opened a new bottle of Coffee-mate there was a foil seal to remove, so we knew it was unadulterated.

Then you changed the design, so that there’s a spiffy little plastic ring to pull out, not unlike cartons of orange juice, for example. Yes, it looks very impressive. Bet you put a bundle into the new design, didn’t you?

Trouble is, now when we screw the top back on, and pop it open, we not only pour a little Coffee-mate into our coffee, we get a significant dribble of the precious liquid down the side of the bottle. It’s inescapable.

It seems to me that your parent company, Nestle’, would have been able to test-market this new design before approving it and inflicting it on us sending it out all over the country. It seems to me that Nestle’ would have made sure that if they were spending the money to re-tool and create a totally new bottle design for a product that brings in $483 gazillion dollars a year, they would want it to be an actual IMPROVEMENT over the old design.

But I would be wrong.

The old design never dripped.

This one drips. Every time. In every bottle I’ve had since they changed the spout, not once has it failed to send a little stream of fat-free hazelnut yummitude down the outside of the bottle. So every time I use it, I have to wipe it clean, and wipe any place it splashed onto, or dripped onto while I was finagling it like a baton twirler trying to outsmart the thing. At least half the time my fingers get sticky while this is happening. I’m pretty sure this qualifies me as a slow learner, but that’s not bothering me too much just yet.

Whenever my mom saw that some product she liked was being touted as ‘new and improved’, she used to say, “There goes that.” And she was usually right. They would take something she liked just fine and spoil it in some way.

I’m not saying that’s happened with my Fat-Free Hazelnut Coffee-mate, but they are teetering on the brink. Am I going to stop using the stuff? No way, Ness-lay. But this qualifies as ANNOYING with a capital A.

Aaaaand a deep cleansing breath—and thank you for letting me vent.

I'm a Kreative Blogger! Who Knew?

Today I owe a debt of gratitude to the lovely Judi at Lines Composed for the “Kreative Blogger” award she bestowed upon me Sunday! I’m quite excited and delighted. (Relax, the poetry ends here.)

So Judi states the rules as these:

1. Thank the person who gave you the award. (check)
2. Link to that person’s blog. (check)
3. Copy the logo to your blog. (any minute now)
4. List seven things about yourself that your readers might not know. Hm...
5. Nominate seven new recipients of the award. (Easy.)
6. Post links to their sites.
7. Leave comments so they know they’ve won.

Okay, I can do this, so here come seven things you might not know about me.

1. I am short. Not just a little short, or medium short, but really short, like 5’ 1”. I used to be 5’ 2 ¾”, but I am shrinking, like most women “of a certain age”. When my husband says we’re going to live into our 90s, I say, “If we do, I’ll be three and a half feet tall!” This becomes more significant if I let you know that the hub is 6’ 4”. Yeah. A redwood.

2. Unlike most of my compadres, I love to cook. I’m addicted to America’s Test Kitchen (the PBS cooking show) and their magazine Cooks Illustrated. I have a season pass for ATK on my Tivo, and still buy the books and the DVDs. Is there a 12-step program for this? I’ve never made anything from their cookbooks or website that was anything short of spectacular. Seriously, it took me almost two hours to put together their meatloaf the first time I made it, but it was totally worth it. I know. Meatloaf. But really! I would not steer you wrong—you are my peeps.

3. I have a custom embroidery business. Yes, for the past ten years (“Since October 1999”) I’ve been the proud proprietor of a home-based operation that stitches corporate logos, club logos, or school mascots on shirts, bags, jackets, aprons, blankets, etc. I do a great job, if my customers aren’t just pulling my leg, and I love doing it. When I started, I was still employed full-time outside the home, and gradually built it up. Now I have two industrial-strength machines, and am my own third-world nation. I love all things related to stitching, so this is a natural for me.

4. In my previous incarnation I worked in healthcare. I did reimbursement analysis for a major hospital (850 beds), clinical department management at a major medical school, and worked the business side of more than one private practice. It was always interesting, often frustrating (ask me how I feel about insurance companies) and a pretty decent way to earn a living. I got to work with—and for—a lot of nice people. Also, a couple of total cretins who would have sold their own grandmothers to look good on any given occasion. (You know who you are!)

5. I am a news junkie, and get very emotionally involved in politics and world affairs. I’m keeping that out of my blog, because I want FITNY to be a place to go without a we/they yes/no black/white dividing line. I want us all to laugh together and enjoy our common ground.

6. I’m a remarried mother of two, step-mother of two. Together we have two sons and two daughters, all of whom are off on their own. Two married, two spoken-for. A 2 ½ year-old grandson who is the apple of my eye, and a nineteen-month old granddaughter who is the apple of my other eye! And I look forward to the new apples yet to come. (When I secure parental permission, you will see photos, hear names…) Our first marriages lasted 19 and 25 years, respectively, and we’ve been together for 14 now, so this is not the Brady Bunch. Only the youngest ever lived with the two of us. They are all great kids (not unbiased, but not untrue) who have paired off with other great kids!

7. I love coffee, chocolate and fresh peaches. I hate coffee that’s cold, weak or sweetened. I can’t tolerate cigarette smoke in any quantity, in any setting. But sometimes when I catch a little whiff on my way to the non-smoking section, I get a flashback to my parents. It’s like my madeleine… but don’t get me started on Proust.

I think I overwrote this, but tough nuggies, it’s my blog, and I can’t be stopped. I’m mad with power, apparently-- Bwah-hah-hah!

Now, on to the seven new recipients of the Kreative Blogger award!

1. Cate at show my face. Always puts a smile on my face—she has a great way with words!
2. Kellydiels.com Because when you want authentic—there she is. I’m stalking her, wish we could go for coffee together.
3. Greg at telling dad. Greg has it all together and isn’t afraid to share. I love reading Greg. He’s a cool (and responsible) dad and blogger!
4. Amanda at Confessions from household 6. It’s great reading about her family and her experiences on the military post; I feel like I know all of them.
5. Missy at Is It Just Me? Her banner alone is enough to make you love her. Check out her pithy subtitles!
6. Jess at I was told there would be bacon. Jess combines the edginess and the hilarity I’m always a sucker for. And there’s bacon, too—right?
7. Shana at Three Men and a Little Lady A dentist surrounded by the men in her family, fighting for her sanity. Or was it insanity? Or does it matter? She’s great.

So thanks again to Judi, and thanks to all these creative (now Kreative) bloggers who make it so much fun to read what they have to say!