The Shallow End

Summa Susiebadoozie knows Geometry. I warned you there was more where that other stuff came from. Here again, from the Long and Boring Travelogue of the Trip With Excessive Luggage, is an example of bad Geometry...

MBH has always been the one in the family to ask for directions. In fact, he loves to ask for directions while I will travel to the moon and back before asking for directions. He will go out of his way to ask for directions, and then start telling stories about his kids and dogs. Now I see that this is a part of his heritage. All Croatians share this trait...the stories go on for hours. MBH even asked for directions to Diocletian's Palace when we were standing right outside its Golden Gate.* I was embarrassed, but MBH made yet another new friend. Croatians are terrible at actually giving directions, but they make friends easily. Ask for directions and you’re liable to end up at a stranger's house for dinner.

To begin our long journey home, we left Split (Croatia) mid-afternoon for the 450 km drive to Zagreb where our plane was scheduled to depart at 7:00 am the next day. Would it take 2 hours or 2 days? It would all depend on the road conditions. Would there be snow? Ice? Detours? Freeways? Country lanes? Winding cliffs by the ocean? Treacherous mountain passes? Flocks of sheep? Would it be a straight shot, or a haphazard journey around the country? As it turned out, we encountered all of the above and it basically turned into a two day project.

We found our way out of Split easily enough, and immediately entered a toll highway the likes of the autobahn (ah, this looked like it would be a breeze, 2 hours max), but the autobahn ended abruptly (like a movie set, it ended as soon as we were out of visual range of the city). It actually ended in baricades across the highway, not even a gradual escort off of the highway. This was more like a Smokey and the Bandit kind of detour. So we were forced to exit onto a two-lane country road and drive around (literally, around, in circles) the farmlands of inland Croatia for awhile. We carefully followed detour signs that seemed intended for someone else (someone not aiming for Zagreb). The detours eventually took us back to familiar winding seaside cliffs (the cliffs from which we were nearly blown off just days before). At least, we knew where we were, although we knew we were in danger of being whisked into the ocean by the slightest 100 mph "breeze."

Eventually (several coastal towns later, without much encouragement in the form of follow-up detour signs), the detours took us back to “the” freeway (we never found this freeway on the map, therefore, we never really knew where we were). We continued to follow signs pointing the way to Zagreb, up and over and partially through the mountains that run north and south the length of the country, via the longest tunnel known to man (we were beginning to think we had entered the bowels of the earth and started to experience shortness of breath...this tunnel must have been 10 miles long)! And just in case we weren’t discouraged enough at this point, the distance markers made us think we were traveling backwards because, even though we were following signs to Zagreb, the distance to Zagreb continued to increase. Should we have given ourselves more time?

As we neared what we guessed to be the half-way mark (although that’s all it was...a guess), we realized that the inland freeway had veered back to the coast without warning (and without tunnels or mountain passes...hmmm, how did that happen?). We were once again unexpectedly close to Senj (MBH's hometown), from which we had departed a few days prior. We can be sure of one thing: the folks who came up with the axiom, “the shortest distance between two points is a line,” were not from Croatia. It was early evening and it appeared the rest of the road to Zagreb would be good (but this is where it would have been good to be able to distinguish between appearances and reality). We decided to make one last surprise visit to MBH’s family in Senj (pronounced “insane”...I have managed to confuse MBH before, by telling him he is insane), and perhaps stay the night, getting up early for the remainder of the drive to Zagreb. Since our flight left at 7:00 am and we were more than a little uncertain of road conditions, we gave ourselves plenty of time for the alleged hour-and-a-half long trip, leaving at 2:30 am. Given that we had family and friends to visit, it was 1:00 am before we got to bed. This gave us 1 hour of sleep. Not sure this counts as "staying the night." But it’s a good thing we left early because once again, the autobahn came to an abrupt halt and gave way to a treacherous two-lane winding mountain pass, this time covered in snow and ice. This was the only snow or ice we saw on our entire trip, and it was 3:00 in the morning, on our way to the airport! God help us! Well, God did help us because if there’s one resource Croatia has a lot of, it’s salt, and they had laid down a good solid layer of it to dissolve the snow and ice on the road. Fortunately, it wasn’t snowing at the time. Aside from having to drive much slower than anticipated, we were able to pedal our tiny Flintstone car up and over the mountains and to the airport just in time to turn in our car, check our bags, and clear security, all with 15 minutes left over...perfect timing! Who needs sleep anyway? Some Geometry lessons maybe, but not sleep.

* In all fairness, the Golden Gate was covered in scaffolding and not exactly visible.

Princess Jami has a good post up for those who like to travel frugally. I fall into that camp. I love travel, and even moreso if I know I'm not spending lots of money. Check out her post for some great tips. Then, I'll share another excerpt from my Rather Long and Boring Travelogue of the Trip With Excessive Luggage to reinforce a point that Jami and I discussed briefly in the comments of her post...which is, don't bother taking Traveler's Cheques to Europe.

As background, I was experiencing a bit of a meltdown due to the language barrier in Croatia where English is not a 2nd language like it is in Western Europe. My beloved husband was born there and was my only means of contact with the rest of the world at this point. Being more than a little independent, the language barrier began to put a big strain on me. This took place after spending an entire morning in fruitless search of a camera battery:

At one point, I broke down, crying tears of frustration, when the bank refused to cash my traveler's checks because I had already dated them (at my bank, back home, when they were issued, as required by the teller who sold them to me). I couldn't convince MBH (my only source of verbal communication) or the tellers (who don't respond well to hand gestures) that they were wrong. Hmm, I’m sure this was good for me, but I was now officially…broke! We were counting on those traveler's checks! Oh sure, we had a few credit cards, an ATM/debit card and some U.S. dollars in our wallets, but have you ever tried to pay to use the toilet in Eastern Europe with a credit card? Or purchase a squealing pig from a farmer with your debit card? Or a few figs, some fresh goat cheese and sausage, from vendors who have no teeth, at the farmer’s market, with U.S. currency, when they have no way of converting it? Ahh, you see…I was officially broke and I had to pee! Please don’t ask me why I didn’t think to whip out one of these alternate forms of currency at the bank where I surely could have exchanged something for Croatian kunas…I guess I needed to indulge in a little self-pity over the traveler’s checks for awhile. It was the principle of the matter. So I begged to use the toilet for free and officially became…a panhandler! [thud]

As it turned out, there were ATM machines on every corner (not so on our last visit when none of the shopkeepers even took credit cards). The beauty of the ATMs was 1) I didn't need no stinkin' bank teller, 2) I could take out only as much as I was willing to lose in a day for a nominal transaction fee (i.e. I didn't need the security of traveler's checks), 3) I didn't have to pay their stupid 10% bank fee for the priviledge of cashing and exchanging my traveler's checks, and 4) the ATM spit out the local currency, using the optimal exchange rate (no longer at the mercy of the local banks and their usorious exchange rates). Even better? When I returned home, I discovered that all those ATMs were put there by my client, whose headquarters are in Kansas City! Small world.

But wait, don't go yet!

Here's my absolute favorite cheap travel tip: whenever I'm planning a domestic trip (as in someplace in the U.S., not a fall down your own stairs, or "tripping" over all the domestic chores you have to do), I use Priceline for the hotel and rental car reservations (but not plane reservations...their air fares are not much cheaper and you lose all your flexibility if you go with the bidding process). I usually consult Travelocity, Expedia, and/or Orbitz to get an idea of what hotels are charging in the area, and then go to Priceline and bid about 60% of the going Travelocity rate. This has only failed me once (on this past trip to Chicago when I couldn't find a single downtown room anywhere using any of the sites...downtown was all sold out which wasn't Priceline's fault). Priceline works so well that I will sometimes even book a last minute room someplace local just for a fun weekend getaway.

The secret is to bid first on the highest star level (and only on the highest level). If bids are rejected, you can't bid on the same star level again for 72 hours, but you can bid on the next level down. I've never had to go below 3 stars and I've never been disappointed. Don't limit your options by starting out bidding on a 3 star hotel because Priceline will search all star levels above the one you pick, but not below it, and eliminate them all for 72 hours. For an idea of what to expect, we've had the following successes (and this represents 100% of what I can remember):

5-star Hyatt in La Jolla, CA for $75/nt (the best deal of them all!)
Doubletree in Omaha, NE for $55/nt (hey, don't knock it til you try it, there's lots to do in Omaha)
Mariott in Kansas City for $45/nt (a Valentine's Day treat)
Grand Hyatt on Union Square, San Francisco for $75/nt (at Christmas!)
Radisson Plaza-Warwick in Philadelphia for $65/nt
Hilton on Michigan Ave in Chicago for $65/nt
Sheraton in Alexandria, VA for $65/nt
Mariott in Charleston, SC for $65/nt
Mariott Suites in Savannah, GA for $65/nt

This doesn't work in places not populated by the big chain hotels, and it doesn't work for bed & breakfasts (I used to be a bed & breakfast person until I discovered Priceline; now, I'll take cheap luxury over friendly, but expensive, hospitality ;-). Another downside is that you can't filter your request, so that if you require a hotel that takes pets, for example, you can't specify that, and you may end up with a hotel that doesn't allow pets (you submit your credit card information with your bid, so you don't have the option of undoing the transaction after you've submitted your bid). Certain other choices like # of beds or non-smoking rooms can be handled easily enough, with a follow-up phone call to the hotel. Even though the process seems irrevocable and that can be scary, I've never had a bad experience with Priceline...it's always been reliable.<*/end commercial>

Be warned, there's more where this came from. ;-)

What Famous Leader Are You?
personality tests by similarminds.com

This is just a snippet of the copius notes I took on our last trip to Croatia, for Christmas. My last post reminded me of this. My battery power, which would turn out to be the only power I would have for my exhaustive travel journal, was exhausted by the time we hit Detroit. Here's why:

I kept a contemporaneous journal until my computer battery died (oh, yes, I carried lots of stuff requiring 110 electrical current, and special European adapters too, but not a converter, so I burned up my printer and after that, I didn’t dare plug anything in). I could have left at home the computer, the printer, the adapter kit, the digital camera, the tripod, the printing supplies, the blow dryer, the curling iron, the flat iron, and the brush and hair products used in conjunction with “styling” my hair curly or straight, depending on my many moods (and since when do I even take all of this stuff on domestic road trips?). Goodness, a whole suitcase full of useless stuff! I'll forego the 3 pages of notes related to the inept staff at Northwest Airlines, who nearly kept us in Kansas City for the holidays (and are responsible for the premature death of my computer battery), but I do feel compelled to touch on their “sendoff” just a bit. Here goes...

I’m glad we arrived 3 hours early for our departure from Kansas City. KCI is normally a very quiet airport requiring less than an hour to park your car, check your luggage, clear security and wait for boarding. I mean, heck, deer roam the halls of KCI, no joke! But after a severe winter storm hit the Midwest, I came armed with patience (they don’t let you bring guns anymore) and was prepared to spend the night in Detroit rather than over the Atlantic. I did not expect to have to draw upon the patience reserves so soon. Would we possibly spend the night in Kansas City? With self check-in the only option, except for “unusual circumstances,” we were off to a bad start because there were only two agents available to process the 200 or so unusual circumstances. We discovered, after trying unsuccessfully to check ourselves in, that we were indeed among the "unusual circumstances." This did not surprise us. We all know how quickly the processing of unusual circumstances goes! Many were angry passengers re-booking flights that were cancelled the day before, due to the weather. And then there was the guy who didn’t have health papers for his dog (since when is a rabies tag not enough?). And then, all of us international passengers who required “special” attention (I didn’t feel very special, frankly).

To help the process along, self-check-in (for the non-unusual circumstances) was conveniently located inside the traffic circle that was quickly forming around these portals by those of us with unusual circumstances, so that no one could get in or out to actually check themselves in, thus causing additional unusual circumstances. To add to this confusion, all luggage was deposited by the passengers inside a large roped-off area, on top of a growing heap of untagged luggage…to be inspected and tagged later…huh?! Couldn’t we at least have the false sense of security we get when we watch our luggage float down the conveyor belt in single file to a similar pile in the basement somewhere? At least then it has a tag on it. Okay, deep breath. Have a little Faith!

It just so happened that we were standing in line next to two other passengers headed for Amsterdam just like us (not our destination, but our first stop outside the U.S. and KCI is not known for being a big departure point for international travel), only they hoped to change planes in Minneapolis while we hoped to change planes in Detroit, even if we had to hitchhike to get there (no doubt the faster option). But still, a strange coincidence. They joked about the mess. Talking amongst themselves, I overheard them say, with Dutch accents, something like “only in America.” I interrupted at that point and told them to “hold on there!” This is how I normally strike up a conversation. Issue commands, orders, interrupt, whatever it takes. But then, they admitted that maybe the problem was not really America, but Northwest Airlines, or maybe the French because KLM, the parent of Northwest Airlines, was recently sold to a French airline. There we go. Let’s blame France! Once this was established, we became fast friends in all the mess and discussed things to do in Amsterdam on our 4 hour layover (canal boats, museums, Red Light District...would there be time for it all? The resounding answer was "no," we never even left Amsterdam's airport, due to bad weather there), their jobs (university math professor and dairy production equipment salesman), our jobs (travel writer and sea captain), and why Northwest airlines needs to hire some industrial engineers since they’re saving so much money on ticketing agents.

Then there was the small scuffle between me and a woman (an Arab woman…not that I’m profiling or anything) who cut right in front of me, coming from across the room where she claimed the line began. I will admit the “line” had become more of a circle at this point (thanks to Northwest’s school lunch lady who was doing a lousy job of organizing the masses…we formed a circle…for reasons unknown to me). The Arab woman claimed she had been waiting for 45 minutes and was an international traveler. Like that makes her special?! I told her we too were international travelers and had been standing in the “line” for an hour and 45 minutes (like this made us even more special), but that did not deter her. So I wished her a Merry Christmas (knowing this was not the “politically correct” thing to do). This elicited an “apology” but only after the agent began booking her seats. It turned out her flight was delayed. Ours left on time and made a safe trip to Detroit. Somehow, things always work out for good. Our connection in Detroit was perfect…no waiting, no delays (no mass quantities of snow), no rushing to catch it…just perfect. I sure hope she arrived safely at her destination. And we never saw the boys from Amsterdam again, each of us on our independent journey, on different aircraft, deplaning and replaning in different cities along the way, but with the same starting point and destination.

I love it when I put things on my calendar that don't exist. Love it! We switched our monthly art gallery meetings to bi-monthly and this is an off month. So now, I've no excuse not to blog! Still nothing to blog about, but that's not the point. Blogfodder is all about having nothing to blog about. If I had something important to say, I'd be...what? I'm not sure. That's what I'm exploring right now. What would I be if I had something important to say?

A minister?
A politician?
An author?
A teacher?
A reporter?
A beautician?
A comedian?

Let's move on.

Eric said when things got slow, he was "interested" in hearing about how our church does small groups. Having only participated in one small group on a regular basis, I probably can't intelligently speak to this. But that's never stopped me from speaking before. The church I attend most regularly (my husband is Catholic, so I also attend his church at other times) is large, maybe 1,500 members every week between two services and so, the heart of the church (the discipleship) really is in the small groups. My understanding of how the small groups work is that 1) there are lots of them with many different lines of demarcation such as age, marital status, special interests, etc.; 2) they are all published each week in the bulletin and people can just stop in at the designated time to join (very informal); 3) most meet on site in one of the church meeting rooms although there are also a handful of home based (usually smaller) groups; 4) they are led by folks who have been approved in some manner by the pastor (I've never put myself up as someone capable of leading a small group so I don't know what this entails exactly); 5) with so many groups to choose from, selection is mostly by word of mouth; 6) each may have a different style of leadership, from those who lead by teaching, to those who lead by facilitating group discussion, to one-on-one discipleship, to who knows what; 7) some are topical discussions while others study the Bible book by book, or my favorite, interweaving studies of the Old Testament with the New.

I think the most meaningful job anyone can have, if they truly have something important to say, is that of minister/pastor/preacher/priest. But I do not, so I am not.

Okay, this is funny. I just ran a spell check on this post because I was feeling responsible or something, and the suggested replacement for "blogfodder" was "blackbodies." No joke. I'll try to remember that, but I'm letting "blogfodder" stand. Thank you, spell checker.

This was enlightening. Look at how much of the globe I've never seen! Wow!! Must travel more.


create your own visited countries map

via Ellen, who also has a very nice reflection on the story of Samson posted over at her site.

Let's try states (while trying to figure out how to shrink the maps to fit on my blog page):

create your own visited states map

Okay, fine. Skip the visual aids. Who needs a stinkin' map to show where all they've been? Suffice to say, I've been to some countries and not others, but I've been to all 48 of the contiguous United States, plus Hawaii, and hope to visit Alaska one day so that I can check that off of my "to do" list. I've no real desire to go to Alaska otherwise and that seems like a rather vain reason to visit someplace, don't you think? I'd much rather cross a few more continents off my list. Except Antarctica. No desire to go there either.

I rely heavily on divine inspiration for whatever spews forth on these pages. You could no doubt see that in my work. ;-) And lately, all of God's work has apparently been spent sustaining me through seemingly endless hours of teaching, hacking and spewing, well, things not worth detailing on the world wide web.

But my sense of duty calls. That, and a certain blogger friend (who has weaseled her way into Eric's esteemed neighborhood...anyone else notice that? Way to go, Beth! Our property values are going up as I speak!) has called me on the table for not fulfilling my blogging duties. So here I am. Blogging.

Um.

Speechless.

I'm all talked out. My throat hurts. Anyone care to learn about Basic Trust Taxation? Or some Estate Planning Basics? I'm all over that. Over and over and over. But it's finally over! I could never be a full-time teacher. I'd wear myself out, working up the adrenaline needed to "entertain" those who insist on sitting there looking at you, eyes half closed, arms crossed, leaning back in their chair, legs crossed too, caring not one bit about what I am saying. I would love to shoot spit wads at those people! On the other hand, I love the ones who sit in the front, asking questions, nodding like they understand, showing enthusiasm for what I, just minutes before walking in the room, might have been less than enthusiastic about myself. I want to take these people under my wing and mentor them. I want them to work in my office.

My favorite part of teaching was the part where I got to wear a microphone. With my voice already altered by my cold, the amplification really accentuated it. I sounded like Darth Vader. That part was cool. But then about midway through this morning's session (before I was fully awake and caffeinated), I was droning away and reminded myself of Ben Stein in Ferris Beuller's Day Off...you know the part where he's going "Beuller? Beuller?" I cracked myself up. But nobody else "got it." Then, as I was warming up, I became less of a drone and more like the "know-it-all teacher" that I pretended to be when I was about 7 and teaching my 5 year old brother how to read in my make-believe school. For crying outloud, I was very stuffy this morning, literally and figuratively. Not at all in the mood for joking around. Yesterday was better. I hadn't worn myself out yet. I was still running on adrenaline yesterday. Today was just exhausting.

My cold is on the way out but I violated rule #1 when fighting a cold and took more antihistamine than I should have. I had to in order to teach. The downside is that in about a week or two, I'm probably going to suffer a sinus infection. Happens every time. But I'll keep popping sudafed and drinking lots of water to keep the sinuses draining and maybe I'll escape the infection.

And in other "news," we have...let's see. We have a big Fur Ball to attend this Saturday! I'm on the board of a local humane society and our big fundraiser is the Fur Ball. It's a lot of fun and well-attended which means mucho mula for the dogs and cats that are unfortunate enough to require their services. So there's that.

And...

I'm also on the board of a local art gallery for which I have financial statements to prepare before tonight's meeting at 7:00 and so, I must get going...

Thanks to all who have stopped by faithfully in my absence!

I'm not in the mood to blog today. I've caught a cold. I pride myself on not catching colds. I do not like them! And the worst part is that tomorrow I teach...all day. Nothing like teaching with a head full of mucus. And a voice like Mae West (okay, not quite that lovely...more like a gravelly Al Pacino). Since talking is not my favorite activity, and public speaking even less so, I do not look forward to what tomorrow and Wednesday will bring. There are about 150 bright eyed new accountants from all over the country anxiously awaiting my performance (time to learn a few dance moves). Joy!

And I spent Mother's Day scrubbing the grout "haze" off of those bloody tiles on the front porch. Even with the aid of hydrochloric acid, it was not an easy job. Perhaps the acid accounts for my cold...what exactly happens if you accidentally get some of this on you, anyone know? I know I inhaled the vapors. But finally(!), the tiles have been restored to their original, unfinished, condition. And I have purchased the appropriate grout with which to complete the project. That will be next weekend's project. Then, I'll post a picture of the completed project for all to see (because I know this is what you are all waiting for).

Happy Monday!

I've never been a good dancer. Actually, I don't dance. For me, dancing is like trying to complete a multi-dimensional math problem, and transmitting choreographic messages from my brain to my feet just doesn't compute. In fact, I think I'm missing those transmitters altogether. I received this in an e-mail today and in all liklihood, I am the last person on the planet to receive this, but in case you haven't seen it, this is good for a laugh or two.

Yeah, I know it's not Thursday yet, but I will be out of pocket most of tomorrow and can't find the option to post at a later date that is probably available on the more sophisticated blog models.

Beth recently reviewed what she thought was a "good" B movie. I'm no B movie expert, but I enjoy cheesy movies, so I thought this would be a fun meme. I think there's a fine line between "A" & "B" movies these days, as Beth noted when trying to name those worthy of 5/5 Kraft Singles. I think the key is "low-budget," in every sense of the word. The challenge for me is that I don't care for sci-fi or horror movies, and that's where most B movies are made. And once I started this list, I realized I was on a very slippery slope (but after reading that the Southern Baptist church invested in Ed Wood's film, Plan 9 From Outer Space, I felt a little better about myself ;-). So, here are my suggestions for the 13 mostly non-sci-fi, mostly non-horror (zombies don't count), mostly PG-ish but many unrated (all, without a doubt, unsuitable for children), "B" movies to see before you die:

1) *Attack of the Killer Tomatoes (this may just be the funniest of all "B" horror films)

2) Dawn of the Dead (this is the spawn of Night of the Living Dead , the quintessential, original zombie movie; this one brings back fond high school dating memories).

3) *Bedtime for Bonzo (who can resist Ronald Reagan and a monkey?)

4) The Mummy (classic Boris Karloff)

5) *Touch of Evil (classic Noir…I wish there were a lot more where this came from)

6) The Blob (this movie scared the daylights out of me, but who can resist?)

7) *Rocky Horror Picture Show (this was just becoming a cult film when I was in high school and so, yes, I threw toast and shot water pistols in a movie theatre, who hasn't?)

8) *Hercules (I actually saw Lou Ferrigno in real life, working out at Gold's Gym in Venice Beach, CA, circa 1981...he was the Incredible Hulk at that time...don't ask why I was in Venice Beach, I really don't remember that part; the reviewer describes this as the "most insane sword and scandal film ever made;" yeah, that's about right...my husband owns just about every variation on this film ever made).

9) Planet of the Apes (if you've only seen the tee vee series, you owe this one to yourself...Charlton Heston at his finest; there are really no words except "brilliant!")

10) *Little Shop of Horrors (adorable schtik)

11) The Killer Shrews (vintage schlock)

12) *Bagdad Café (downright odd...this one will throw you off balance and you'll wonder what just happened)

13) *Polyester (the only Scratch & Sniff movie I've ever seen and probably the only John Waters movie, besides Hairspray, worth watching)

Now, don't even get me started on Spaghetti Westerns (or Macaroni Westerns, as they are known in Japan). MBH has just about every one ever made. ;-)


* I own these ones (I don't own many movies, but these are really just that "good").

Another recipe. It's not tax season anymore. ;-)

Below (I couldn't get the link to work but you'll find the whole recipe, including a great salad accompaniment, at Epicurious.com) is my all time favorite pork tenderloin recipe. Last night (while the last of Elvis Idol Worship was airing), I decided to cook the pork that was going to spoil if I didn't do something quick. I wanted to try something different so I pulled down one of my favorite cookbooks, Barefoot Contessa's Family Cookbook. Surely, she'd have a good recipe to try. Looked in the index...P...it skipped from something like "pasta," to "potato." Huh. No pork? Not even pork roast? Pork shoulder? Nothing? Um, no. Look at her other recipes, silly. They all call for "Kosher" salt. Oh. So back to my old stand by (and if anyone wants a really good cookbook to add to their collection, this one is awesome!). This recipe never disappoints. And we didn't have the salad makin's, so we had it with roasted asparagus and baby new potatoes. My husband thanked me again this morning for the good dinner...and that's A Good Thing. ;-)

And Eric and Beth, there's no bananas in this one. ;-)

Now, go visit Rachel's recipe blog (and maybe someone can tell me where in America you can buy "Wattie's Sliced Mushrooms in Peppercorn Sauce"). In the meantime, I'm going to try her Banana Sour Cream Waffles. Yum!

Rachel mentioned Banana Cake recently and I'm sure her recipe is superior to this one, but this one is easy and delicious. I made one just for us Saturday night. There's only a little bit left. ;-) It's so delicious in fact that we used this recipe for our wedding cake. Bear in mind that there were only 7 people in the church for our wedding and I made our cake myself. I'm not sure this cake would translate to a true wedding cake, one that keeps for several days and serves hundreds, suiting the needs of Wedding Cake Nazis everywhere, but it's definitely suitable for a dinner party or a quiet weekend of yardwork and self indulgence. I can be a bit of a food snob, and generally steer clear of recipes that rely on packages and mixes, but I stand behind this one (go ahead, poke fun, but do try it).

1 pkg Duncan Hines Moist Supreme Banana Cake Mix, oil, eggs
1 sm pkg Instant Vanilla Pudding Mix
1- 8 oz pkg Cool-Whip
2 cups milk
3-4 bananas

Make cake according to package instructions.

Make frosting by mixing pudding, Cool-Whip, and milk in a bowl and refrigerate while the cake bakes.

After the cake cools, slice each layer in half so that you have four layers.

Frost each layer, and layer sliced bananas on top of each frosting layer, reserving 1/2 of the frosting for top and sides.

That's it. You end up with a torte-like cake that is beautiful and delicious (unless you don't like bananas).

For pot-lucks or anytime you want to simplify it further, skip the layering and bake the cake in a 9 x 13 pan so you just have one layer of frosting and bananas…still good, just not as impressive, but easier to serve. This is how I had it the first time, but then I added layers for more banana-y taste. Enjoy!

Physical exhaustion is good, right? This was my annual yardwork initiation weekend. Which requires the use of muscles that don’t exist. I don't get out there often enough. It's all I can do to keep the weeds at bay. Thank heavens for perennials and ground cover. If not for those, our yard would be a composition of mulch and rocks. And more mulch. And rocks. Anyway, that's not the point. The point is…

When it comes to yardwork and home improvements, I believe my purpose is to serve as a warning to others. I am the shining example of what NOT to do. Hence, I feel compelled to share my findings with others.

First, everybody should have one of these. This is the handiest tool ever. I now know what it is called (I found it in my kitchen drawer)…the "Don Carlos Lead Putty Knife." Am I the only one who finds this humorous, naming a painting/glazing tool after an opera? Probably just me. Anyway, should you ever find yourself needing to remove oh, say, indoor grout from an outdoor application of some sort (not that you would, just sayin'), do not attempt to remove the grout with a grout saw, no matter how many pimply faced kids at Home Depot tell you to get the grout saw. A hand held grout saw is extremely time consuming and messy and downright difficult (I have the bruise on my palm and pain in my hands to prove it). With The Tool, I removed the grout cleanly and completely, in about 1/4 the time that the grout saw was taking. So finally, the indoor grout is gone and I am ready to start this project over. This has to be the most time consuming re-do I've ever faced.

In case you missed it, the first lesson here is to read the grout package to make sure the grout is suitable for outdoor use. ;-)

But there is a second, equally valuable, use for The Tool. After spending about an hour pulling weeds by hand, and fighting with resistant dandelions, I went in to get the garden shovel and then thought about The Tool. I grabbed that instead. It worked like a charm on the weeds growing in between the rocks and in the cracks of the sidewalk. I also killed several dozen earthworms in the process…but work had to be done. This was much easier and quicker than a small shovel.

Having the right tool for the job makes all the difference. This may not be the kosher tool for the job (it's not unlike using your shoe to pound nails in the wall), but trust me, it's probably the most effective one.

If I had Purgatorio's readership, I might offer up a caption contest for this here photo, but instead, I will simply share it. It ties in nicely to the latest Fire Ant Theatre reading, I think, and of course to my own ties to the King.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Elvis is in the building. No, Elvis has left the building. No wait, Elvis is ON the building! Yes!

Thanks to my cousin, Mike, who just reported in from the Holy Land (and we're not talking Memphis here; we're talking Israel) where he is working on assignment, we have this. This being, of course, the King...in Jerusalem. Mike, being from Tennessee and being related to me, recognizes good kitsch when he sees it. And I probably owe him a big turkey dinner or something for allowing me to share this with ya'll. Thanks, Mike!