Why do I tense when people cry?

While working today, I started hearing sniffles and realized a lady sitting near me was crying.

I immediately felt tense, debating whether I should say something or mind my own business.

Finally, I went to look for Agatha, a grandmotherly lady who could cheer up the world with a hug, but I couldn't find her.

Somehow, being out of my chair, I wasn't so nervous about giving that hug myself. And you know what? It helped. A hug, a kiss on the cheek, and offer to pray for her.

I don't know what was wrong; doesn't matter. But I do wonder why I hesitated.

Leah the Butcher

This is what I did today:

There is no way of saying, "Good work; I have some suggestions," that eases the sting of that much red ink.

New Orleans is a weird place for a New Yorker

Exhibit A: People were nice to tourists

Do you see something missing from this elevator panel? No "close" button. I probably lost forty or fifty seconds -- possibly a whole minute -- of this trip not being able to tell the elevator, "Quick, don't let anyone else get on!"



The hotel staff was nice; random people in the elevator were nice; the cab drivers were nice.

Flash backs to BYU where everyone I passed was a dilemma: Should I smile? Nod? Say hello?


Exhibit B: Food and beverage museum

What do you buy in the gift shop, old food? I think this is just a clever way to lure people into your restaurant.




Side note:
At this event, we had an issue with students sneaking guys into their hotel rooms without asking their roommates. The day all this drama broke, I came back to my hotel room and discovered this:



My first thought: There's been a guy in my room!

But I think it was just the housekeeper.

I get spooked pretty easily when I'm staying alone. I sing a lot of "I Walk by Faith." In my hotel room, I put little post-it notes over the eyes of all the people in the paintings.


Exhibit C: The Art

Does this make you hungry?



This was the menu cover of the nicest restaurant we visited. Nothing says classy like a lobster pinching Cupid's toosh.

When this restaurant had lost our reservations, we ended up driving to four other places before we found a restaurant with less than an hour-and-a-half wait for a party of three.

At the Emeril restaurant, and I had this conversation with the hostess:

"What is your wait for a party of three?"

"Well, we don't take reservations and we don't have a wait list."

"So you could seat us now?"

"No, we're full until 10 p.m."

So how do you get seated? Do you have to be lucky enough to walk in right as a party of the same size walks out? Maybe you need a special invitation from Emeril.


Exhibit D: The food

I have never travelled anywhere so unhealthy.

Fresh fruit? No.

Fresh vegetables? Freshly smothered in butter.

Entrees? Fried. All of them.

Anything not fried? Yes, basted in lemon and butter. If a food isn't a New Orleans classic, it seems the only thing they know how to do with it is baste it in lemon butter.

Breakfast? French toast soaked in butter, not egg; grits, sausage, bacon, scrambled eggs.

If my vegetable, egg-white omelet oozes a pool of butter, what's the point?



This is me eating a pork chop, red beans and rice. I would have killed for a salad, which is kind of ironic.

Three ways to face your challenges

These are three of my favorite videos from the Manhattan Stake singles film "festival."

All are examples of characters facing challenges in a "insightful," "inspiring" way.

So go ahead: Be inspired.

D8

Troubles

Macamerations -- I couldn't embed this video, but it's worth following the link.

http://www.spouterinn.com/deadline.html

No more peepage

The subway platform is just 20 yards from and nearly level with our windows.

Please see below, the view from our front-facing windows (FYI, it's snowing; that's not pigeon poop on our windows):


Too many mornings I finish my aerobics to find two or three people staring from the platform.

Well, guess what. The show's over. My sister in law, Shawna, has made us curtains.

Before:


After:


Before:



After:


Shawna -- Thank you, thank you, thank you.

I'd take the ox cart

We get to Costco by taking two trains and then walking about a mile.

While walking the Costco aisles, glorying in the discounts and the free samples, the frugality went to our heads and we decided, Hey, let's save even more money by taking the subway back instead of a cab.

See the insanity!


We weren't even out of the parking lot when I had to hand off my heaviest bag to Yancy*. When we finally got home -- and we never would have made it if not buoyed up by Costco pizza -- we unloaded our gear and totaled how many pounds we carried.

All our bags. (It's more impressive in real life.)



Everything Yancy carried: Please notice the 10 lb bag of chicken, the 12 cans of black beans and the six over-sized cans of crushed tomatoes. He did not carry the knives or the toaster oven.




60 lbs, baby. Just look at those guns.



Everything I carried. Please notice, um ... the cereal? Sponges? Cooking spray?



It was heavy.

Yogurt is heavy.

*Please don't be ashamed of me, Amy.

Curling deserves its Olympic status

Tried sleeping on curlers for the first time. Turns out, like most things, it's harder to get it right than you'd think.





What do you think? Not really the old Hollywood glam I was hoping for...