OMG! it's time for the NATIONAL SPELLING BEE!

OMG.

stop the presses!

set your VCRs!

it is once again time for the scripps national spelling bee, airing *tomorrow* (thu.) night at 8pm ET on ABC.



the annual bee championships always reminds me of my time as a listings writer at TVG, when a group of us would anxiously gather 'round the office television to watch the finals as they were broadcast live on TSN (because, in those days, spelling was considered a sport). to this day, i have not been able to find people as enthusiastic about, and invested in, watching this alphabetical circus as i did back in the day. sure, maybe it was because we were all avoiding doing actual work and would have been thrilled about anything that took us away from our desks for an hour, but still. good times. (as an aside, we'd all run back to our desks at the commercial break, write some copy and then run back when the bee returned.)

by now, my viewing comrades have scattered to the four winds, but i always think of them -- and our all-time favourite competitor, rebecca sealfon (shown above, in all her freaky, spastic glory) -- when i tune in on my own.

okay, which one of you has been handing out my new address?

because, this morning, i encountered one of these in my kitchen. i thought i'd left friends like this behind when i moved out of Hell House. and yet, there it was. they've found me again.

for the uninitiated, or those who just screamed like a little girl, that is a house centipede. they're beyond freaky-looking, but completely harmless to humans. in fact, they actually *eat* all kinds of smaller insects. but i still do not like them in my home.

house centipedes and i do not have an amicable history. no, if you recall, they would often scare the bejesus out of me at my previous apartment...running out from heaven knows where as soon as the sun set and planting themselves on my bedroom wall. or my bathroom floor. or back on my bedroom wall. i hermetically SEALED my last place, and blamed my frequent visitors on the fact that the building was more than 80 years old, built of (probably rotting) wood and plaster and likely home to all sorts of nefarious nasties, both human and otherwise.

so, imagine my shock, terror and chagrin when i met my little roommate this morning. this building is CONCRETE, fer cryin' out loud! and i'm more than five stories off the ground! WHY DO THESE INSECTS LOVE ME SO?

tonight's random house-centipede factoid: they have a life span of up to SIX YEARS. six years, people.

*sigh*

a crappy night in 10 easy steps

the women of IBTC.
1. buy a $25 ticket to Itty Bitty Titty Committee, the closing-night film at the inside/out film festival. tell yourself that, despite the little voice in your head shrieking in horror at the cost, the price is worth it because you love director jamie babbit’s work, and this is a closing-night screening that includes a post-film party with jamie babbit, and there are several actors you enjoy in the movie, and you never know whom you might meet while waiting in line or sitting in the theater. raise expectations to dangerous levels.

2. plan to walk from home to yonge and bloor (where you’re meeting your movie-going pal for dinner before the movie) in order to get some exercise. look out your window as you’re getting ready to leave and see that it is POURING rain. lament that you should have gone for a walk in the morning, when it was just cloudy out, instead of staying in your pyjamas and watching movies on TBS. reevaluate your need for exercise. get an extra subway token and take transit instead.

3. hem and haw endlessly over what to have for dinner. waffle back and forth between assorted fast-food chains. drive yourself, and your dining companion, batty. eventually settle on a sub. bite in and realize your sub has been made on the world’s driest bread. choke down ¾ of the arid sandwich, aided by copious amounts of root beer, before saying “uncle” and giving up. lament that you didn’t get the harvey’s veggie-burger combo instead. hope that the copious amounts of root beer don’t come back to haunt you and your bladder halfway through the movie you’re about to see.

4. head to the theater and get in line. rejoice that it is no longer raining. make sure to stand under a big tree. bob and weave to avoid the random splurts of rainwater that have collected on the tree leaves and splatter down upon you every time a breeze blows or a bird lands on a branch or a lady bug alights from a twig. hope that a giant blob of water does not land directly on your eye, thereby soaking your lashes and causing your mascara to run in a decidedly unflattering manner.

5. wait. stand in line and wait. inhale the second-hand cigarette smoke drifting over from your less-considerate linemates, who decide to light up four feet from you. cling to your high expectations as they begin to fizzle rapidly, but keep hope alive that maybe, just maybe, you'll meet someone interesting. begin to doubt that’ll happen with each passing minute. wipe more dripping water from your forehead. check your watch and realize you’ve now been standing in line for half an hour. sigh.

6. finally get into the theater and delight in the fact that your preferred seats are still vacant. hooray! quickly snatch them and settle in. watch the rest of the audience file in. begin to feel very, very old as you realize the average age of the majority of attendees is probably 21. spot Man Boobs (!), one of the notorious ticket scammers who frequent preview screenings, sitting across the way. recoil in horror. repeatedly move out of the way as indecisive seat seekers go in and out of your row, wave to friends, leave, return, signal to other friends, leave again, and return again. wonder quietly to yourself if the couple making out two rows up will continue to lock lips throughout the film.

7. smile broadly when it looks like the movie’s about to begin. witness your smile melt as the festival staffers introducing the screening spend 20 minutes yammering on before even dimming the lights. frown and pout when they announce that director jamie babbit, who’d been promised as a guest for the night, won’t be coming. fold your arms and harumph. ask yourself, once again, WHY you paid $25 for this experience. notice that the makeout couple have cooled their jets. admit to yourself that you’re just jealous.

8. watch the movie. wait for it to get good. heave sigh after sigh as you realize it’s not going to get good. like, ever. shift in your seat because you’re struggling not to leave. wonder how a director that talented could make a movie this disappointing. count the continuity errors. notice yourself counting continuity errors and wonder if that’s a sign you’ve made a costly error in judgment with this flick. check your watch. muffle a groan when you discover you still have 40 minutes left before it's over. kiss your expectations goodbye. speaking of kissing, remark that the makeout couple are still paying attention to the screen and not each other. wonder what you’re clearly missing. realize the answer is: not being part of the target demographic.

9. leave. actively avoid the eager ushers gleefully thrusting audience ballots in your face and resist the urge to say, “trust me. my vote isn’t going to help this movie win anything.” squeeze past the women packing the lobby and take one last look around to see if there's anyone with whom you might want to chat or exchange flirty glances. there is not. walk away from the theater with your movie-going pal, who disliked the film as much as you did, and dissect exactly what you hated and why. decide to skip the party because you’re still getting over a cold and, besides, the movie wasn't anything to celebrate. tell yourself you will NOT be sucked in like this again. have unpleasant flashbacks to last year's big stinker, Loving Annabelle. let a combination of frustration, sadness, anger and ennui wash over you as you head towards the subway. stop to buy cookies on the way because you feel like you deserve at least one treat tonight.

10. get home. take out cookies. bite in. realize immediately that they are very stale. bemoan your crappy evening, but find comfort in the fact that misery loves company and at least you didn’t have to go through it all alone. blog about it.

saturday night frivolity

i have a boy crush on andy samberg.
this short is part of the reason why.

i'm also loving kristen wiig.

germy randomness

i realized this afternoon that i haven’t blogged in a few days, so i figured i should pop in lest anyone think i’d slipped into unconsciousness after one too many doses of nyquil. thankfully, i have not. i’m still germy, but recovering quickly. i’m in the congested-head portion of the cold at the moment, but i hope to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed by sunday. or, at the very least, i hope to be sounding less like i have giant wads of cotton shoved up my nose.

in lieu of a lenthy post, some random items:

* did you watch the season finale of LOST? did you love it or hate it or simply get an overwhelming sense of meh? did you cry? did you shake your head? (for the record: i think the flash-forward was a misstep but enjoyed it otherwise.)

* are you watching On the Lot, the new reality show from steven spielberg and Survivor imagineer mark burnett? it’s like American Idol for filmmakers, and it’s a fascinating look at some super-talented, and some decidedly untalented, writer-directors. i’m hoping a woman wins the whole thing.

* did you know that cayenne pepper is magic? seriously. it has all kinds of delightful, healing properties and drinking some in tea or gargling with a cayenne elixir (cayenne + water + honey) actually helps ease the pain of a sore throat. i scoffed at first, but it really does work...and i’ve been putting cayenne pepper in everything i’ve had to eat or drink for the past two days.

* this morning, i went to the screening of what may wind up being the best bad movie of 2007. press restrictions prevent me from revealing the name of the film and my review just yet, but here’s a hint: it stars kevin costner and it is SPECTACULARLY bad. so bad that it’s actually brilliant. i enjoyed it for all the wrong reasons.

and now, i think it’s time to make a smoothie. the temperatures are slowly dropping (ah, sweet relief) as thunderstorms and a cold front move in.

dear mother nature: there’s no need for it to be 88F in toronto in may. thank you.

a long time ago...we used to be friends...

...but now you've been cancelled, just like so many a good show before ye. farewell, Veronica Mars.

adding insult to injury is the fact that, after a decidedly sucky season, your writers and producers decided to return you to your roots for your two-hour finale. no extraneous, pointless romance subplots or lame new characters to bore me. no tedious "mystery"-that-no-one-cares-about-anyway to solve, and only one eyeroll-inducing scene with the perpetually uninteresting parker.

no, instead, it was just like old times, back when i cared about what happened and was invested in you. i almost fainted when i saw wallace get more than two lines -- he had the B story! screen time! more than one scene! -- and nearly fell off my couch when weevil, who'd been M.I.A. for most of the season, landed an entire episode almost all to himself. as if those things weren't enough, the final 10 minutes of the second hour opened up all kinds of doors for new storylines...and left a whole mess of loose ends wildly untied. the only thing missing was a token shot of backup.

why? why couldn't you just limp off into the night with two crappy hours that would make me relieved you won't be back come fall? why did you turn on the charm and pull out your old but winning bag of tricks for your final curtain? why did you have to get good again just as i was ready and willing to bid you adieu?

and why did you feel the need to remind me that, not too long ago, i really, really liked you?

i'll miss you Veronica, and i didn't think i would. dammit.

oh, super...it's PVS

those of you who follow my annual TIFF diaries will no doubt recall my yearly battles with PFS (Post-Festival Sickness), the cold-like ailment that almost always befalls me as soon as the festival wraps.

well, it appears that i am now coming down with PVS (Post-Vacation Sickness), an almost identical malady (so far) that resembles the onset of the common cold. f-word. i blame it on the person across the aisle from me on the flight home, who was coughing the cough of someone recovering from -- or still battling -- a cold or flu.

i'm attempting to stave it off by dosing myself, as per usual, with vitamin C, zinc and lots of warm tea because the Inside/Out film fest is currently up and running in town and i have a closing-night film to see.

germs, be gone!

florida pot pourri

the view from the beach tonight
tonight is our last night here, and i think we’ve both realized that, perhaps, two weeks at this condo is about three days too many. a ten- or eleven-day visit would be perfect. after that, ennui sets in. both young beatrix and i are big-city dwellers – i live downtown, she works there. we’re used to a certain level of hustle and bustle. the first week of swimming and walking along the beach and looking for shells and watching sailboats pass and shopping at U.S. retailers and enjoying american cable was fantastic...but the novelty wore off sometime around day nine, i think.

by yesterday, we were like two lost souls in search of vacation meaning, and i think my brain high-tailed it back to toronto several days ago already. i started checking my email and RSVPing to film screenings and perusing work-related messages. i began wondering whether my apartment suffered during the recent storms there (i left each of my four windows about halfway open, unfortunately). i looked up when my library books are due. i’m ready to go home.

so, on our final evening in the sunshine state, i present a small mish-mash of random factoids about our trip alongside a half-assed photo essay of shots taken on our final beach stroll earlier tonight:

the view looking north along the beach...
* in my last random-stuff post, i forgot to mention that we’ve also become addicted to Baby Ruth chocolate bars. we made the mistake of buying a 10-pack of mini bars at Dollar Tree (the greatest dollar store ever) and finished it in a day and a half. i’m fairly certain they’re infused with crack.

* dear fat, swarthy, oiled-up men with beer guts and gold chains, squeezed into bathing suits that are several sizes too small: I AM NOT INTERESTED. thank you.

* the lovebug situation has gotten worse. they are ALL over the exterior walls of the condo building, sunning themselves as they copulate and then alighting just as you walk past...thereby necessitating some of the swatting and flailing that i mentioned in a previous post.

* can we chat for a moment about the queen helene mint julep face mask? because it’s divine. i’d read about it online months and months ago – its virtues trumpeted by scads of gay men – so young beatrix and i decided to seek it out whilst here. we found it, dirt cheap, at sally beauty supply (what a great little chain that is!) and tried it. know what? it works! zaps your pores full of minty goodness and gets rid of all kinds of unmentionables. when i took the wee jar to the elderly, blue-haired cashier to pay, she looked at it and said, “you know, this stuff really works. been around forever and coming into its own again.” it sure is!

and looking south.

* our quest for free things continued with moderate success. we managed to get free samples at godiva chocolates, harry & david (a gourmet chocolate/candy/snacks store), an indie ice cream place and sephora. nothing has managed to beat the $5, though.

* an update on last night’s bug incident: we found two more (one alive, one dead) today. i also went down to the front desk to alert the staff and, thankfully, it went smoothly. young beatrix and i were worried that we might be blamed for the presence of the creepy crawlies, but the extremely pleasant guy running the office actually thanked me for bringing it to their attention. i showed him my “samples” (i’d saved a few of the dead bugs as evidence) and he asked if he could keep them to show to their pest-control guys. i shared my findings (saw-toothed grain beetle!) and some tips on eco-friendly pest control (namely: diatomaceous earth!) for his own reference. he actually asked, unprompted, after our mom and called her by name because he remembers her from previous spring visits, which i thought was rather sweet.

a wisp of a crescent moon rises over the pool as night descends on indian shores...

* why do so many people drive around with their dogs unharnessed in the backs of trucks? do they not realize that a sudden turn or just about any kind of collision will result in their pets being hurtled out of the vehicle? this has caused me mild distress during our car travels.

* dear omnipresent hand-lotion kiosk employees who accost me with the fully transparent “may i ask you a question?” pitch as i actively avoid you in the mall: I AM NOT INTERESTED. thank you. this goes for you “’scuse me, is your windshield chipped or scratched?” guys, too.

* in florida, the following items are acceptable as dinner: sunchips and ice cream; a chicken finger, a slice of garlic bread and a brownie; a smoothie of any persuasion; potato skins and chicken wings; salad and fries; cake (of course).

* in florida, the following items are apparently considered acceptable as dinner attire: speedos; bikinis; daisy-duke shorts (with or without unsightly bulging at their seams); spandex of any variety; no shirt? no problem!; pyjama bottoms; chicken costumes...okay, not really, but probably.

* trixie’s contribution: the PT cruiser cannot make sharp turns. though, she adds, “it may just be my technique.”

the sun sets on our trip...and on a contemplative young beatrix.

and so ends our holiday. we fly back tomorrow afternoon and, as lou so accurately put it to me many months ago when discussing the reality of a vacation ending, the steel door will then slam shut on this experience.

hopefully, it’ll take out a lovebug or two when it does.

an update: about five minutes after i posted this, we found two more bugs in our bedroom -- one on trix's pillow (what IS it about that area that they love so much???) and one on the wall near the closet. we're glad to be leaving them behind and have thoroughly checked every item in our suitcases to make sure they're bug-free. ditto the suitcases themselves, which are now sealed tightly.

who knew?

well, there you have it.

bug

so, we've had an interesting evening. and no, it had nothing to do with ashley judd's new movie, also called Bug.

young beatrix was tired and decided to retire just before 10:30pm. she went into the bedroom and promptly called me in, saying, "there's another one of those bugs on my pillow!"

uh oh.

several nights ago, trix was lying down to sleep when she noticed a teeny, tiny insect on her pillow. (for those of you who know of my bedbug phobia, fear not: the insect was definitely not one of those nefarious nightcrawlers.) we looked at it, determined that it was probably some kind of young fruit fly or the like, killed it and she went to bed.

and then she found another one, in the exact same spot, tonight. not good. we killed tonight's "guest" and decided to do a thorough bed check. off came the sheets and guess what? two more live insects in the bed, plus one dead one between the sheets and the mattress. aw, f-word.

but, again, i must reiterate: NOT bedbugs. i have researched those little bastards and could spot one on sight. they're more tick-like. this was more...ant-like? these insects were very, very small and slender. dark in colour. six legs. antennae. and did i mention tiny?

our minds started racing (OMG, is it a louse? a termite? something that's going to have babies to send home with us????) and young beatrix was suddenly and not surprisingly no longer the least bit sleepy. i opened my laptop and began surfing for answers. i theorized that perhaps these insects were coming from the closet next to trixie's bed -- a closet which houses at least a half-dozen dirty old pillows, three or four ratty blankets, assorted bedspreads and a locked cabinet containing the unit owner's own linens. trix removed the gym bag we'd stored in there...the one containing all our "stuff to go home for mom" purchases. i said we should check the bag and all the bags within that bag to see if any bugs had fallen/crawled/been birthed therein.

we found two more -- one dead one in a bag containing four 1/2 pound bags of ground coffee, and one live one crawling within the gym bag. then she went back into the bedroom and saw one crawling up the wall next to the closet door.

[i apologize for the heebie jeebies you may currently be experiencing, but please know that we, too, have enjoyed them for the past two hours.]

anyway, very long and skeevy and frustrating story short: after much online researching and thanks to the most excellent website what's that bug?, i discovered that our miniscule little pests are saw-toothed grain beetles. they infest pantry-type food (which can include coffee) and can live off of dustbunnies, hair and all kinds of non-pantry items once they venture out from whatever bag of flour or rice or coffee beans or whatEVER to forage.

this is what they look like (keep in mind that they are, according to the sites i checked, about 1/8" long, so this is super-magnified):

so, i've saved three specimens to show to the building management tomorrow. yesterday, trixie said she saw a workman with fumigation equipment going into the unit across the hall from us, and we're now wondering if perhaps some of these little guys scurried over to escape certain death...or have been making their way through the building's ventilation system into our unit and who knows how many others. either way, i'll be heading down to the front desk in the morning to say, "hi. there are bugs in our bedroom and they're not bedbugs so calm down." (the main office closes daily at 5pm, otherwise i would have been down there tonight.)

in the meantime, we've bagged the coffee (trixie still doesn't think that's the source of the bugs) and put it in the freezer. we've emptied the gym bag completely and turned my big knapsack (which was, thankfully, bug-free) inside out. they'll be washed in the washing machine tomorrow, just in case. we've moved our suitcases away from the closets and trixie has gone to bed...but doesn't think she'll actually be able to sleep. saw-toothed grain beetles are harmless to humans and animals -- they don't bite or spread disease or burrow into your skin to lay eggs. they just take up residence in your cereal or raisins and float in your milk when you unknowingly pour yourself a bowl for breakfast. (and the multiply. so, you know, it's good to get rid of them.)

but finding one staring lovingly back at you from across your own pillow, and knowing there may be more lurking in the shadows, is nonetheless...freaky.

the patron saint of the greater tampa area is...a former American Idol??

is kelly clarkson your personal saviour?

something very curious has been happening throughout our visit to florida: kelly clarkson is EVERYWHERE. on every radio station. playing on every retailer’s sound system. wafting through malls and drifting over the heads of non-plussed shoppers while trix and i search for deals.

every.

single.

day.

we hear kelly clarkson songs at least a dozen times daily. young beatrix and i started to joke about how often one of the local radio stations plays her music...and, sure enough, we can’t turn on that station and listen for more than three songs before kelly starts belting out a tune.

why is this so?

she’s not from here, she’s a texan, so state pride can’t be the reason. has she managed to work her mojo on the people of the greater tampa area so that they revere her as a goddess? is she running for office? has clive davis mandated her music onto radio-station playlists in exchange for access to some of his other RCA artists?

dunno. but it sure is strange.

the pool: a small photo essay

given the amount of time we spend there, and the number of times i've mentioned it, i thought the pool would make a good subject for some pics ce soir. i toted the camera along for our evening swim tonight, and here are the results:

this is how we like it: EMPTY.

kids swim here. then they abandon their toys.

this is my favourite view towards the gulf from the pool deck.

we decided to try some action photography. it was an exercise in multiple frames.
(i'm actually coming up out of the water.)

young beatrix insists on glamour, even in the water. (that, or she'd be blinded by the sun.)

i, on the other hand, prefer the pensive, tousled look.
but, really, it's hard not to be reflective when you're gazing out over...

...this.

dear JC Penney: learn math!

yesterday and today, i experienced what can only be described as trickle-down corporate ineptitude at one of america’s leading retailers: the JC Penney department store.

before i launch into the following tale of mathematical angst, allow me to establish the following absolutes:

1. i needed new bras
2. JCP had bras on sale
3. this should have been a simple process

it was not.

the bras were priced thusly: $20 each, or two for $30. last wednesday, i purchased two for $30. this wednesday, the price had dropped to two for $24. the JCP store policy allows for a price adjustment (if the price of the items changes) within seven days of purchase and, since it was a $6 difference and $6 is nothing to sneeze at, i decided to pursue such an adjustment yesterday afternoon.

and so began The World’s Longest and Most Complicated Price Adjustment Ever (TWLAMCPAE). i can’t even begin to tell you how convoluted a process this was, due largely to the fact that, here in florida, retailers apparently haven’t adequately instructed their staffers what a price adjustment is and how one is handled when requested by a customer. this sort of thing is done all the time in toronto, without much fuss or fanfare, but not here. young beatrix had a similar realization when, one day after buying two pairs of pants, the price went down $2 a pair and she tried to get a price adjustment (also at JC Penney). the clerk looked at her like she was speaking latin when she asked if a price adjustment was possible.

“a what?” said the perplexed clerk.

young beatrix tried to explain the process – “well, i paid $22 a pair, now they’re $20 a pair, so may i please have $4 back?” (i’m paraphrasing) – but it took two confused clerks and a department manager before everyone was on the same page. she got her $4.

then it was my turn.

i won’t bore you with the endless details of TWLAMCPAE because, honestly, i would be typing for pages and pages and pages. the entire process took A FULL HOUR. i kid you not. an hour. we arrived at the store at 2pm and walked out, exhausted, at 3pm. sweet mother of all that is holy, i thought i was on some kind of hidden-camera show. i mean, it’s a simple enough thing, isn’t it? something that was $30 is now $24, so i should get $6. right?

oh, but no. this turned into an extravaganza of having to (fake) return the two items i bought, and then re-buying them at the new, lower price. but the JCP computer system had the incorrect new price in the system ($27), so we had to redo the entire process four hundred times. okay, not four hundred times, but at least three. and it took forrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrever. the poor clerk was on the brink of a nervous breakdown by the time the whole ordeal was over (trixie said, “you know she’s going to have PTSD now, right?”), and the helpful and fully understanding department manager asked me if i wanted a job there as she bagged the bras. i wasn't entirely convinced that i won’t wind up with all kinds of extra charges on my amex come bill time but, for the time being, all seemed okay. finally.

until today.

today, at a different JC Penney, i decided to buy two more of the fun, funky bras. there was a big sign on the display that said:

10% off!
2 for $30, now 2 for $24!

aha.

now, logic and rudimentary math skills will tell you that 10% of $30 is $3, and 30 – 3 = 27. so, really, the sale price *should* be $27 if the 10% off part is true; but the sale price should be $24 because, you know, it’s cheaper and better for me and it’s printed right there on the sign for all the world to see.

tell that to the snarky department manager at today’s JCP, who was convinced that i was wrong when the bras rung up at $13.50 apiece and i pointed out that they should be ringing in at $12 each. i explained the two for $24 sign, and she told me i must have been confused and read a sign for a different product. (at this point, i could feel myself bracing for a price fight.) i calmly said that, no, i wasn’t wrong and that the two for $24 sign was on all the displays for this particular line. she shook her head and said she had to go see for herself. fine. young beatrix escorted her to the displays and the two of them stood there for a good five or six minutes before returning to the cashier’s desk.

“well, the sign’s wrong,” said the manager to the clerk (in a very exasperated, dismissive tone) who’d been waiting to process my purchase. “but i’ll give it to her for that price.”

damn right, lady. it’s not my fault some soon-to-be-fired twit at JCP head office doesn’t know how to do percentages. a sign's a sign. so, the manager handled my purchase and, when she’d finished, she stuffed the bras into a bag and thrust them – yes, thrust them – across the counter at me with a decidedly unfriendly, “here you go.” as in, “ooooooh, here you go, you big cheapskate! here’s your big huge savings! now get lost.” i wanted to tell her to lose the attitude because those same signs were appearing at every JC Penney across america right now (seriously, those of you in the U.S. should check the flirtitude displays in the lingerie department at your local JCP anytime between now and monday – betcha they’re the all using the same lame math!), but i refrained.

[as an aside, while i was waiting there was another customer buying a stereo at the same checkout, and its price also rang in incorrectly. is there no calculator in the entire JC Penney corporation???]

young beatrix and i finished our shopping at the mall (finding even more sale items at other stores with much less hassle and much better math in place), but we had to pass through the JCP lingerie section on our way back out to the car. as we walked through, we noticed that the peeved manager had taken one of the incorrect signs and turned it backwards (so that the text was hidden) as a way of thwarting other bargain hunters...but hadn’t bothered to adjust any of the other five or six identical signs on other racks three feet away.

i hope she gets one woman after another walking up the checkout with two bras and $24 in hand all weekend long...

*free!*

back at the start of the florida posts, i mentioned that young beatrix and i had a goal of getting at least one thing free per day. here's a list of what we've managed to snag gratis so far:

* assorted frappucino samples from various starbucks locations
* kéva juice smoothie samples
* gourmet bread samples
* trix's free facial and dr. weil cleanser
* a 2L bottle of diet 7UP
* sugar-cookie quarters (i.e., one cookie divided into quarters, not sugar cookies made to look like 25-cent coins)
* grapes
* daily spritzes, slathers or soapings of bath and body works products

i've also found about 17 cents worth of pennies and, today, trixie found a $5 bill in the parking lot at publix. score!

random stuff to read

so, this morning as young beatrix was chatting with our mom on the phone, her face, shoulders and upper chest suddenly turned bright red. we suspect this was an allergic reaction to something – probably the potent new vitamins she’s been taking for a couple of months (since these bizarre flush episodes have happened a few times since she began taking them) – and she has now gone back to bed to let it wear off. normally, she’d take allergy medicine to speed the process, but she wants to remain alert and feels the burning skin will pass within an hour.

obviously, we’re skipping the pool this morning and will play the rest of the day by ear. we still have more shopping to do and more meals to eat but, for the moment, we’re taking it easy.

and, while we wait, a random list of stuff and things from our trip to floria:

* we have become completely, wholly and unapologetically addicted to the Bacon Turkey Bravo™ sandwich at Panera Bread Company. PBC is a delightful chain, with many delicious wares, and I suspect they infuse their breads with crack because, honestly, i don’t know that i’ve ever craved a turkey sandwich as much as i have craved this one. plus, they make a deeeeeelicious raspberry-white chocolate brownie.

* we have also become completely, wholly and unapologetically addicted to Cash Cab, the discovery channel’s “general knowledge trivia” game show that takes place to random passengers in a NYC cab (below left: its kick-ass host, ben bailey). i caught it by accident the other day and i love it. then, like any good addict, i hooked young beatrix on it, as well.

* other things that we’ve become addicted to since arriving here: pepperidge farm’s garlic texas toast (SO good!); yoplait passionfruit yogurt (why is this not available in canada?!); the PT cruiser (they are EVERYWHERE! we see dozens every day! it must be some kind of freaky southern thing ‘cause, man, everybody seems to have one), which drives like a dream and stays relatively cool inside due to its darkly tinted windows; morning swims in the empty pool; evening swims in the empty pool; and living life in flip-flops.

* sunscreen and i are not friends. no matter which brand i use, or how vehemently it claims to be sensitive-skin friendly, i invariably end up with a rash. as such, i’ve begun wearing thin, long-sleeved shirts in lieu of sunscreen whenever we’re out and it’s sunny (strangely enough, those days have been few in number thus far).

* yesterday, while at a petsmart, i spotted a guy with a young corgi and, according to trixie, behaved as though someone had walked into the store with a unicorn. she was laughing out loud because (again, she alleges) i shouted (i don’t remember shouting), “oh my god! that guy has a corgi!” she said she was surprised the man didn’t flee after my over-exuberant declaration. so, as casually and nonchalantly as possible, i made my way over to where he was standing, crouched down and was immediately smothered with corgi love. it leapt up onto my lap, furiously wagging its bum (they don't have tails) and basically going berserk. its owner apologized, but i was quite delighted by the whole episode.

* why is it that the size of a man’s speedo is always inversely proportionate to his girth and amount of body hair? it is frightening what some guys consider appropriate swimwear.

*while i’m at it, an open letter to parents with small children who frequent the condo pool: i am not your kids’ babysitter. i am not swimming so that i can act as a de-facto lifeguard should they suddenly drop into the deep end while you nurse a beer or top up your sunscreen or chat on your cellphone. just because i answer them when they shout random things to me as i swim past (“i can doggie paddle!”, “i went in the ocean today!”, “i have to go potty!”) does not mean i’m magically going to become their personal life preserver. so, if you wouldn’t mind and if it’s not too much trouble, put down your beer (or the sunscreen or the phone), get your ass out of the beach chair and at least pretend to mind your child so he or she doesn’t drown. thanks.

* young beatrix is afraid of lovebugs. she squeals and shrieks and makes strange fanning/swatting motions anytime a pair float nearby. (they do seems to like her a lot, though, which is odd. they always leave me alone.) for those unfamiliar with lovebugs, they fly in pairs when mating...and, based on what we’ve seen these last nine days, it must be mating season right now. like, hardcore mating season. the front of our PT cruiser is covered with the bodies of enamored insects we’ve hit while driving. now, this is all very amusing because trix is an avid gardener and happily spends hours at home in the garden surrounded by bees, wasps, hornets, dragonflies, mosquitoes and all manner of things that make me avoid the area altogether. none of those insects phase her, but lovebugs? terrifying. weird.

* speaking of mating in the natural world, yesterday young beatrix and i witnessed two seagulls mating on the beach. it was a little disturbing to behold, and i started to have flashbacks of the avian necrophilia incident i witnessed last month, and Moviepie Eric’s recent blog post about duck rape (warning: do not click that link unless you’re prepared to be horrified).

* why is Veronica Mars sucking in a big way lately? it has gone from a smart, sassy series about a teenage detective to a lame, boring, tiresome mish-mash of The O.C., Dawson’s Creek and Murder, She Wrote. sad. has it been officially cancelled yet?

* and in the “shows not sucking” category, we have Heroes, which rawked this week.

that is all. for now. i must go check on young beatrix to see if her skin has returned to a normal, human colour yet.

we are nothing if not well-advised

the smoke was still here this morning. so was the humidity. the temperature crept up around 91F by afternoon. all combined? SUPER fun.

*cough*

yesterday, the weather people on the assorted news broadcasts issued multiple advisories about the poor air quality -- specifically issuing a "dense smoke advisory" and showing viewers all kinds of readings (from unseen measuring devices) to illustrate just how nasty the air was in case we'd somehow failed to notice. health experts appeared to talk about respiratory issues and excessively watery eyes. they even had a rep from an animal hospital on to discuss protecting your pets from the airborne irritants.

today, the warnings and portents of doom continued in the form of an "air stagnancy advisory." apparently, light winds would mean that all that craptacular air from yesterday would not only persist, but would just sit there in the atmosphere. stagnating.

i don't think i need to explain how unappealing doing anything outdoors is in this kind of weather. who wants to be outside when it's like you're stuck in a sauna downwind from a campfire?

young beatrix and i therefore retreated to the safety of ridiculously busy shopping malls in order to escape the stagnant, dirty air. we drove into tampa and popped around to a few malls before a verrrrry late lunch at CPK. by the time we returned to the condo, the air had improved significantly (though still hot and humid) so we trekked north along the beach for about 20 minutes, then back. then a late-evening swim. then treats from the freezer. and now i'm typing and trix is watching Raising Helen. again.

a girls' day out

today was our afternoon out with moob! hooray!

when we got up, both young beatrix and i were kind of tired and, since the weather was meh (the fire smoke had returned with a vengeance and is supposed to hover until at least sunday *cough*choke*), we opted to skip our morning swim and head out early for sarasota. we has counted on a 90-minute drive, which would give us plenty of buffer room if there were any traffic delays or visibility problems or any sudden panic attacks before driving over the sunshine skyway.


[for those who aren’t familiar with the skyway, it’s basically a five-mile-long “bridge” that runs over land and water, and contains one reeeeeally high section that has terrified our mother since her first visit to florida decades ago. her fear had seeped into young beatrix’s subconscious, because she found herself inexplicably stressed out about it despite never having crossed it before.]

thankfully, there were no traffic delays or panic attacks – the skyway was a breeze! it took exactly eight minutes to cross and, once we’d finished it, we wondered what the heck the big deal was/is. but there were visibility problems. the air was thick and dirty, and it was extremely humid out which made the atmosphere that much more unpleasant.

we met up with moob in front of bath & body works at sarasota square. none of us could believe it had been more than six years since we last saw each other (that time, it was on vacation in chicago) – where did the time go?? we proceeded to work our way through the mall – trixie picked up some clearance shirts at the gap, i bought a deeeelicious pina-colada smoothie and moob tried on countless pairs of cargo pants without success – before settling down for lunch. we chatted about our pals lou and biker (were your ears on fire? *g*), and our respective families. young beatrix and i opted for soup and salad combos, while moob had her eye on the quesadillas.

we loitered in the restaurant for a while but moob, like a new mom who’s left her baby alone with a sitter for the first time, was anxious to get home to mr. moob, who’d had surgery earlier in the week, so we bid adieu.

this photo doesn't do the smoky air justice.

neither does this one. but it was nasty!

trixie and i then proceeded to a few sarasota-area stores and, on the way home, stopped in at the prime outlets mall in ellenton. it’s an outdoor shopping complex and being outside in the thick, heavy, dirty air wasn’t much fun, so we didn’t spend a huge amount of time there...just enough for me to buy a funky pair of purple teva flip-flops (seriously, their flip-flops are beyond amazing for walking!) and for both of us to have ice cream cones in the deserted food court.

we drove home through the ca-ca air, skipped our evening swim and beach walk due to said air, and watched Dog Whisperer as we ate our treats-from-the-freezer dinner.

wild kingdom ii

i completely forgot to include the most important part of the day, especially since it relates directly to the post title: dolphins!

how cute are they?! (i didn't take this photo, btw)
one of the coolest things about this condo is that it overlooks the intercoastal waterway, which means we can watch boats, fishermen, water fowl and, when we’re lucky, dolphins (!) right from our balcony. the dolphin sightings are comparatively rare (usually only once or twice per visit, sometimes not at all), but this morning as i was waiting for my bagel to toast, young beatrix – who had been gazing out over the water, shouted, “dolphins! dolphins! vic, hurry up!”

and, sure enough, there in the relatively still waters were three little dorsal fins popping up to get some air every 10 feet or so...slowly making their way northwards. we watched them until they were out of range.

wild kingdom

this morning, the air was clean(ish) and the sky was clear(ish), so young beatrix and i decided that today would be the day we’d visit fort desoto, which had been voted the #1 beach in all of the continental U.S.

unfortunately, the universe had other plans for us, and did its best to crap all over our best-laid plans.

young beatrix decided that today would also be a super day to try out a bunch of breakfast fixins she’d bought yesterday – specifically, a big package of thick-cut bacon (keep in mind that she has never, ever expressed an interest in thick-cut bacon before...and, therefore, has never prepared it before, either), eggs and hash-browns. she figured it would be a good idea to have a big meal before our day-long outing...you know, to give us energy for all that our field trip would entail. i said perhaps we should hold off on the BB (big breakfast) until another day so as to make the most of our time. she persisted. long story short: the bacon, which was too big for the pan, wound up charred beyond recognition in the middle and near-raw at the ends; the hash browns weren’t cooked long enough (despite being in their pan for longer than the suggested cooking time) and were mildly crunchy; and she gave up on the eggs. she did her best to eat as much of her meal as she could...which, unfortunately, then made her feel ill.

the morning trip to fort desoto was cancelled. enter pepto-bismol.

we decided to move the trip to the afternoon and go shopping this morning instead. that turned out just as well...which is to say, not well. we found nothing, ventured to disappointing stores and had the exact same lunch we had yesterday (the bacon turkey bravo sandwich at panera). we cut our losses* and came back to the condo to rest and snack before heading out again.

(*even the cutest thing EVER, a mother duck and her wee gaggle of ducklings, was cause for us to furrow our brows because we saw them as they tried to cross a major thoroughfare! they made it safely to the grassy median between four lanes of busy traffic, but neither my sister nor i wanted to travel back along that route lest we see that they didn't make it across the final portion of their trek.)

the intrepid beachcombers head out to fort desoto!
(please note the frightfully w-h-i-t-e skin on my arms and body...thank you SPF 30!)
after refueling on panera brownies (white-chocolate raspberry for me, caramel-pecan for young beatrix) and subjecting ourselves to the equivalent of a human sunscreen dip (seriously, we used a LOT), we hopped in the ‘cruiser and headed south. time for fort desoto! yeah, baby! it was time to re-start the fun!

yeah, no.

about 2/3 of the way there, we encountered An Idiot. in fact, all the drivers going in our direction encountered An Idiot. we were all on a busy, well-traveled two-lane road with virtually zero shoulder and leading onto a long bridge, and The Idiot had run out of gas right at the start of the bridge, thereby completely blocking all traffic behind his vehicle. the road was too narrow for anyone to go around, there were no stoplights to regulate the flow of traffic (i.e., to get oncoming cars to stop for a freakin’ second and let some of us go around The Idiot’s heap of junk (which it was)) and The Idiot, in all his Idiot-doofus glory, was walking along the side of the road, carrying an empty gas can and grinning like a fool as he surveyed the dozens and dozens (and growing) cars lining up behind his now-abandoned vehicle. [note: for those of you working on conjuring an image of The Idiot, just picture any twentysomething stoner you’d like: that’s him.] in hindsight, i should have taken his photo.

after a few minutes, oncoming cars began realizing the dilemma of those of us in the southbound lane, and every so often gaps would occur that would allow a few of us to scoot past and shoot evil looks at the empty jalopy. once we cleared the impromptu road block, it was smooth, clear sailing.

yay! we're entering fort desoto! wait, where is everybody?
in fact, it was eerily smooth and clear. completely empty was more like it. we only saw one other car as we wound our way along the lush, green (deserted) roadways leading into fort desoto.

seriously...where are all the people????
we parked our car in the virtually empty lot near the north beach. there was only one other car in the lot that could very easily hold several hundred vehicles. i thought it amusing that said other car was also a PT cruiser, so i took a photo to illustrate the vast emptiness.

see the yellow PT cruiser waaaaaay in the distance?
we were filled with hope as we walked along the path to the beach. i mean, this beach was, by all accounts we’d read and heard, breathtakingly amazing. gorgeous. beyond beautiful.

young beatrix...filled with hope!
yet, what we found, while very nice, was hardly the best beach we’d ever seen in our lives. the sand for the first several hundred yards was extremely rough and made up almost entirely of broken shells. (this made the walk back to the car incredibly painful.) we finally hit the much-ballyhooed “soft white sands,” but it didn’t last long. the waters were very choppy and rough, and there were only a handful of beachgoers scattered around. we saw some herons and other water fowl, but were mightily disappointed that this was all there was to be had at fort desoto. we debated going to the east beach, and agreed that we’d drive there and see if it was worth getting out of the car and further scarring the soles of our feet in the name of beachgoing.

needless to say, we arrived at the equally vacant east beach, hemmed for about a half-second before we hawed our way back to the condo for an evening swim and a filling dinner.

alas.

tomorrow...OMG...tomorrow we’re spending the afternoon with moob in sarasota! shopping and eating and, of course, taking pictures. (moob, fix your cowlick!)

sorry, where was i?

apologies for the lack of updates – i underestimated how draining being on vacation can be. once you factor in more exercise than i’m used to + galavanting (that’s right, i said it, GALAVANTING) about town + lack of sleep (i have yet to find the right pillow amongst the dozens of ratty, discoloured ones in the closets) + the lure of american cable television, you get one pooped puppy.

for starters tonight, installment updates. first off, the much-delayed report on day one. by now, the excitement of the stories has faded, so i’ll understand if you skip this post and move up the page.

flying with morons
there were really obnoxious kids on our plane, with even more obnoxious parents. they sat right behind us. and kicked our seats. and scuh-REAMED bloody murder on and off for about two hours as the parents tried to use sing-songy voices and logic (whaaa...???) to quiet them. not surprisingly, it didn’t work.

free wi-fi from heaven?
somehow, in some way, our condo has free wi-fi. i just turned my airport on and, presto!, there it was. i don’t know how and i don’t know why and i don’t want to question it. who am i to look an internet gift horse in the mouth?

”pull your vehicle off the road right now."
en route to our condo from the airport, young beatrix and i witnessed a take-down! okay, not so much a take-down as a very peeved police officer instructing a teenage girl and her male passenger to move their car – which they had stopped dead in the middle of the road – into a nearby parking lot. all traffic in all directions, us included, had stopped around them (strange how the flashing lights of a police car and the booming voice of law enforcement vibrating through the air can magically make drivers sit up and take notice), but this girl was just sitting there smack in the middle of the road. i think the cop thought she was pausing before making a run for it, hence the tone of his voice, but he managed to scare the rest of us, too. no one moved because none of us were 100% sure he wasn’t talking to us. anyway, she eventually pulled over and i turned around to see the police officer leap out of his car and towards the driver’s side of the delinquent vehicle. “oh, he’s MAD!” i said as young beatrix drove us away.

the perils of brushfires to the north
already explained in enough detail, i think. refer to the cloudy, coughing post below for more!