Wednesday, February 21, 2007

Break Room Table



Doc. B. and I finally got the house back in order after throwing a party for our friend, Westward Ho (see One Good Line for details). As is typical with a big bash, there were uneaten vittles piled all over the kitchen and stacked in the fridge. The popular beverages (those containing ETOH) were long gone, but the food remained. And we were ready for it all to be out of the temptation zone as soon as the last guests shut the door behind them. In order to remove the evidence quickly, we first offered it to the people who helped us organize (a couple of bottles of white wine back to Westward Ho and half of a Southern Sweets cake, oh and unopened coffee creamer, to Kali and Ms. Sheila). For some reason no one wanted the six pack of non-alcoholic beer that didn't get touched, or probably even considered, during the party.

So here we are, stuck with all of these delicious leftovers - you know, tostitos, doritos, fritos and mojitos...oh wait, I got carried away. If there were any mojitos left over, I would have found them and saved them, even if it took CPR to do so. But what to do with all of this stuff? We both looked at each other and said, in harmony I'm sure, "the break room table".

I took a big old Whole Foods bag, filled with very un-whole foods, to work with me on Tuesday (Yeah, Tuesday. What's it to ya'? I had Monday off for President's day). I placed all of the leftovers on the two circular, beat up, grungy, coffee stained, doughnut stickified tables and placed my wager. I bet myself that it would all be gone well before lunch. When I walked by the break room at 11:00, it was all gone except for a few crumbs in the bottom of the sour cream flavored Lays. I swear I've seen a half-licked tootsie pop get snagged from one of those tables, so this did not surprise me.

Anyone want a six pack of non-alcoholic beer? If not, I guess I could try mixing it with tequila.

Sunday, February 11, 2007

Hike Inn






Last week the temps hit 70 and I was getting spring fever. I actually suggested that we go for a weekend hike - not something I offer up casually given my ursaphobia/arctophobia. But the weather was so inviting, I wanted to be outside and do something fun. Doc. B. had been up to the The Hike Inn this past summer and I was ready to try it too.

The Hike Inn trail starts in North Georgia near the Amicalola Falls. You check in at the Visitor's Center and then walk a moderate trail, dotted with what we dubbed "brown ice". When you arrive, you can relax with some lemonade or coffee until a family style dinner is served at 6:00 sharp - the dinner bell is rung to make sure you don't miss it. And after a five mile trek, it's unlikely you'd miss a call for food. Despite the occasional ice patches, it was really a pleasant jaunt - we shed several layers of clothes during the two and a half hour walk.

After dinner we were treated to a power point presentation about Saturn - very interesting and done by a volunteer. Unfortunately it was too cloudy to see the planet or it's rings. But after a cold night on bunk beds, the clouds cooperated and did not interfere with our ability to witness a beautiful sunrise while sipping coffee and mingling with the other guests.

Best line overheard by two couples in their 50's: "you two get the beach house, we'll get the mountain cabin and we'll visit each other. We're not doing the ski lodge - with all of our artificial joints, we won't be on the slopes anymore".

Second best line heard from the same couples: "We'll probably have to sell one of the properties when we retire; we can't afford it all unless we are both working." What a bummer - they are going to have to give up something in order to stop working.

Probably the most unique thing about the Hike Inn is their commitment to conservation. You eat whatever you put on your plate, you take home what you bring in, you reuse your drinking glasses, and the toilets are composting. It's more inspiring than "An Inconvenient Truth" because you actually live the energy saving techniques.

I was thinking the entire time that my parents might enjoy this trip...hmmm....

Wednesday, February 07, 2007

Sign Language for "PAY"





This guy comes up to me while I'm waiting on my MARTA train. He has headphones on, you know, the iPod kind. He holds out a wrinkled up sign that says "I am deaf" and grunts out the same three words. My first thought was, why does a deaf guy have on headphones? As I'm thinking this, he holds out another well-worn sign that says "can I have $1.00?". I patted my pockets and gave him the "sorry I don't have any" look with matching hand gestures. He then flipped over the sign and it said "OK, well, how about a quarter?". I dug into my backpack to reward him for his creativity. It reminded me of the disheveled guy on the Washington D.C. Metro that said to me "got any spare change"? I replied no and he responded with "got any spare credit cards?" I could only laugh and give him some change.