Did you know that bubble gum is made from plastic and rubber? It used to be tree resins (which sounds odd enough, but then again, aspirin came from tree bark, and that's worked out well), but in order to save money, it's now made from plastic.
No kidding.
So, if you spend a lot of time making sure your kid is drinking from BPA free water bottles and carries a waste free, metal lunch box, why would you let them chew plastic?
Because you didn't know, of course. But now you do.
Beth Terry mentioned this in her blog, Fake Plastic Fish, but I missed that article. Give it a read. It's eye opening.
Knowledge is power. Be powerful.
Where's the pause button on this thing?
Showing posts with label Strange tales. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Strange tales. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Friday, January 30, 2009
Newsflash!
Logan figured it out.
How to go down the stairs backwards, that is. It's almost as if he watches how Emma does something for a week or so and then just decides to do it one day. Then pow! He's off to the races.
Today, he started climbing down the stairs and he did it over and over and over again, while Emma stood at the top of the stairs and went "Ehn! Ehn!".
Apparently just as suddenly she's forgotten how to do it or has determined she doesn't like him stealing her thunder.
I'm betting it's the latter.
How to go down the stairs backwards, that is. It's almost as if he watches how Emma does something for a week or so and then just decides to do it one day. Then pow! He's off to the races.
Today, he started climbing down the stairs and he did it over and over and over again, while Emma stood at the top of the stairs and went "Ehn! Ehn!".
Apparently just as suddenly she's forgotten how to do it or has determined she doesn't like him stealing her thunder.
I'm betting it's the latter.
Thursday, September 04, 2008
Still Sticky in Singapore
We continue our travels in Singapore, because my brain, she is tired.
June 13, 2000
The night exhales hot and sticky air onto my skin. I swim through the dimly lit dark and catch sight of an anteater. He's furry! He looks like he's wearing mukluks on his front legs!
I peer at a bat, who is hanging upside down from a branch. I could touch it, if I just reached out a little bit...I restrain the impulse. The fruit bat is far larger than I'd ever expected. He's (she's?) the size of a ferret with wings! Leathery, satiny, black wings. I'm only 6 inches away...and there's no barrier in my way.
Strange birds call out in the night. Strange insects sing their night song to one another. I hear a loud bellow (a big cat? a deer? water buffalo?) and try to walk towards it, but I'm blocked by jungle.
I squat down and examine the fur of a leopard inches away, separated from me by only an inch of glass. He's lying against it, snoozing and unconcerned with my existence. I am fascinated by his and by the pattern of his fur. I want to touch him. I want to communicate somehow. I admire all of the big cats, one by one. The Malaysian tiger, the African lions, the jungle cats. I want to be a big cat. I feel sad that they're in captivity but glad that I'm able to see them.
I'm at Night Safari - the nocturnal zoo in Singapore where they display animals that are more active by night. Lighting them gently with special "moonlighting" lights - dim, bluish light. I see lions, tigers, sloth bears. Civets, mini water buffalo, big water buffalo, bongos, deer pigs, porcupines, rhinoceroses, elephants...Separating us are only gullies in some cases. Glass in others. Striped hyenas. Spotted hyenas. These last watch people walk by and look as if they are considering angles and distances. "I could take 'em!"
Earlier I was having High Tea at the Compass Rose, a restaurant in my hotel, 70 stories up. What an excellent view of Singapore! Crisp white linen. Perfectly displayed cucumber and salmon sandwiches. Tiny scones and cakes. I feel rich and decadent. I'm glad the company is paying for this trip....
I went to the Singapore botanical gardens. As I walked along, sweltering and melting slowly, I had my very own theme song playing over in my head: "Heaven! I'm in heaven!" The plants are HUGE beasts of the jungle. Plants that we keep in pots, tiny things in comparison to the massive plants towering over my head. I have my camera and am shooting everything that interests me that I am able to capture (thus no shoots of the exotic women). Later on the same day I was given the SG tour by one of my hosts, Ching Meng. He took me to Chinatown where I saw an Indian temple - brightly colored statues and paintings and cloth abound. We had to take our shoes off upon entry, but I left my socks on since I was following Ching Meng's example. I was trying to figure out how to NOT give offense by 1) wearing socks 2) wearing a tank top and shorts 3) being an unbeliever and 4) being female. Maybe being female should have been at the top of the list?
I saw images of gods whose names I do not know and could not pronounce. Dangerous, knife wielding images. Beautiful, sensuous carvings. Elephants and sacred cows.
The next stop was the "wet" market where produce and meat are sold. I saw things in bags and boxes and in piles that I cannot name and didn't recognize. Ching Meng bought me lychee (About the size of a large grape, with red/orange bumpy skin that you peel off. The flesh of the fruit looks like the inside of a grape and the flavor was somewhat similar.) and ramputan (Red and orange and yellow skin with long curling hairs? fibers that stuck out in all directions.) and persimmon. In the meat section I saw fish that were still gasping on tables, tortoises and eels and bullfrogs in cases, waiting to be bought, killed and cooked. Ching Meng thought I would be grossed out by this but I've EATEN frog and eel, and although I've no personal experience with tortoises, I knew they ate them here. We walked along and stopped in a Chinese herbal medicine shop - the walls were lined from ceiling to floor with huge jars of unrecognizable animal and vegetable parts. Horns of this, roots of that, shark fins, bird's nests (you eat solidified BIRD SPIT??) and so many other things.
After that we took a cable car ride from Mount Faber (Hee hee! They call THAT a mountain?) to Sentosa Island and back again. The view is wonderful, so high above everything. You can pretty much see the whole island from up here - it's very small but they're enlarging parts of it slowly with sand that they've "reclaimed" from the sea. Tons and tons of sand are poured and allowed to settle for 5 years or so and then they start building new high rises. Then the people who had last had the beach front property now have a fantastic view of the backside of a new building...
Everything changes.
Last night I was convinced to try a taste of the sweat sock smelling fruit - Durian. I decided, after trying it, that it wasn't for me. Unfortunately, the smell on my hands remained part of me for the rest of the night. They serve it to you at open air fruit stalls. The buyer selects one of the vicious looking spiked fruits, the size of a large pineapple, and smells it. If they like the scent (whew!) they ask for it to be opened and the seller quickly hacks it open with a mini cleaver, allowing the buyer to poke a finger inside and test for ripeness. If it passes this second test, the seller opens the fruit a bit more and allows the buyer to taste test it. Then, if it passes this final test and the buyer accepts it, they go to one of the tables and slurp away. It's a very messy prospect - the squishy milky yellow fruit surrounds large tan pits, covered in a thin skin. The fruit itself has the consistency of custard so there's a lot of slurping going on. After awhile your nose gives out and you can't smell it as strongly as you did when you first walked up, but guaranteed that after you leave, everyone will know where you've been and what you've been eating!
They won't let you take Durian home on the bus or in a taxi...opened or unopened.
I take my smelly self back to the hotel and hope no one notices my scent.
Ciao!
The Wandering Trainer
June 13, 2000
The night exhales hot and sticky air onto my skin. I swim through the dimly lit dark and catch sight of an anteater. He's furry! He looks like he's wearing mukluks on his front legs!
I peer at a bat, who is hanging upside down from a branch. I could touch it, if I just reached out a little bit...I restrain the impulse. The fruit bat is far larger than I'd ever expected. He's (she's?) the size of a ferret with wings! Leathery, satiny, black wings. I'm only 6 inches away...and there's no barrier in my way.
Strange birds call out in the night. Strange insects sing their night song to one another. I hear a loud bellow (a big cat? a deer? water buffalo?) and try to walk towards it, but I'm blocked by jungle.
I squat down and examine the fur of a leopard inches away, separated from me by only an inch of glass. He's lying against it, snoozing and unconcerned with my existence. I am fascinated by his and by the pattern of his fur. I want to touch him. I want to communicate somehow. I admire all of the big cats, one by one. The Malaysian tiger, the African lions, the jungle cats. I want to be a big cat. I feel sad that they're in captivity but glad that I'm able to see them.
I'm at Night Safari - the nocturnal zoo in Singapore where they display animals that are more active by night. Lighting them gently with special "moonlighting" lights - dim, bluish light. I see lions, tigers, sloth bears. Civets, mini water buffalo, big water buffalo, bongos, deer pigs, porcupines, rhinoceroses, elephants...Separating us are only gullies in some cases. Glass in others. Striped hyenas. Spotted hyenas. These last watch people walk by and look as if they are considering angles and distances. "I could take 'em!"
Earlier I was having High Tea at the Compass Rose, a restaurant in my hotel, 70 stories up. What an excellent view of Singapore! Crisp white linen. Perfectly displayed cucumber and salmon sandwiches. Tiny scones and cakes. I feel rich and decadent. I'm glad the company is paying for this trip....
I went to the Singapore botanical gardens. As I walked along, sweltering and melting slowly, I had my very own theme song playing over in my head: "Heaven! I'm in heaven!" The plants are HUGE beasts of the jungle. Plants that we keep in pots, tiny things in comparison to the massive plants towering over my head. I have my camera and am shooting everything that interests me that I am able to capture (thus no shoots of the exotic women). Later on the same day I was given the SG tour by one of my hosts, Ching Meng. He took me to Chinatown where I saw an Indian temple - brightly colored statues and paintings and cloth abound. We had to take our shoes off upon entry, but I left my socks on since I was following Ching Meng's example. I was trying to figure out how to NOT give offense by 1) wearing socks 2) wearing a tank top and shorts 3) being an unbeliever and 4) being female. Maybe being female should have been at the top of the list?
I saw images of gods whose names I do not know and could not pronounce. Dangerous, knife wielding images. Beautiful, sensuous carvings. Elephants and sacred cows.
The next stop was the "wet" market where produce and meat are sold. I saw things in bags and boxes and in piles that I cannot name and didn't recognize. Ching Meng bought me lychee (About the size of a large grape, with red/orange bumpy skin that you peel off. The flesh of the fruit looks like the inside of a grape and the flavor was somewhat similar.) and ramputan (Red and orange and yellow skin with long curling hairs? fibers that stuck out in all directions.) and persimmon. In the meat section I saw fish that were still gasping on tables, tortoises and eels and bullfrogs in cases, waiting to be bought, killed and cooked. Ching Meng thought I would be grossed out by this but I've EATEN frog and eel, and although I've no personal experience with tortoises, I knew they ate them here. We walked along and stopped in a Chinese herbal medicine shop - the walls were lined from ceiling to floor with huge jars of unrecognizable animal and vegetable parts. Horns of this, roots of that, shark fins, bird's nests (you eat solidified BIRD SPIT??) and so many other things.
After that we took a cable car ride from Mount Faber (Hee hee! They call THAT a mountain?) to Sentosa Island and back again. The view is wonderful, so high above everything. You can pretty much see the whole island from up here - it's very small but they're enlarging parts of it slowly with sand that they've "reclaimed" from the sea. Tons and tons of sand are poured and allowed to settle for 5 years or so and then they start building new high rises. Then the people who had last had the beach front property now have a fantastic view of the backside of a new building...
Everything changes.
Last night I was convinced to try a taste of the sweat sock smelling fruit - Durian. I decided, after trying it, that it wasn't for me. Unfortunately, the smell on my hands remained part of me for the rest of the night. They serve it to you at open air fruit stalls. The buyer selects one of the vicious looking spiked fruits, the size of a large pineapple, and smells it. If they like the scent (whew!) they ask for it to be opened and the seller quickly hacks it open with a mini cleaver, allowing the buyer to poke a finger inside and test for ripeness. If it passes this second test, the seller opens the fruit a bit more and allows the buyer to taste test it. Then, if it passes this final test and the buyer accepts it, they go to one of the tables and slurp away. It's a very messy prospect - the squishy milky yellow fruit surrounds large tan pits, covered in a thin skin. The fruit itself has the consistency of custard so there's a lot of slurping going on. After awhile your nose gives out and you can't smell it as strongly as you did when you first walked up, but guaranteed that after you leave, everyone will know where you've been and what you've been eating!
They won't let you take Durian home on the bus or in a taxi...opened or unopened.
I take my smelly self back to the hotel and hope no one notices my scent.
Ciao!
The Wandering Trainer
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
Broken
A car, a lawnmower, a toilet and a dishwasher walk into a bar. Each was feeling grumpy and out of sorts.
"They don't appreciate me!" the car growled, nursing a Long Island Iced Tea. "I work and work and work! I take the entire load of howler monkeys everywhere they need to go, in comfort and style and do they take care of me? No! Let's see how they like it when I don't start anymore!"
"Yah? You t'ink dat's so bad? I gotta eat alla dat grass. And it ain't like it's just grass, neither. Naw, they gots weeds all ovah da place! Who the hell wantsah eat dat crap alla da time? I'm sick uv it! I'm done!" The lawnmower slams its pint of beer onto the table angrily. Beer sloshes onto the tabletop and drips onto the floor.
"Grass?!" the dishwasher cried, affronted. "All you have to eat is grass and maybe some weeds? Try my diet some time! I have to eat everything. All! The! Time! I have to work twice or even three times a day. And if they have a party?!" Dishwasher rolls its eyes dramatically. "Four or maybe even five times in a single day! They don't even rinse all that thoroughly, either. Like they expect my built in disposer to handle all of that food they're constantly eating! What are they? Gluttons? The food making never stops! All day long: eat, eat, eat! I'm so sick of it! I'm going on strike! See how they like that!" The dishwasher folds its arms over it's metal chest and leans back in its chair. The space in front of it remains conspicuously empty of drink.
A drunken snort escapes from Toilet's mouth. The other three turn and regard it with curious hostility.
"You three think you have it soooo bad. You know what I think?" The toilet slams back yet another whiskey and gestures angrily at the others with the bottle, its hand wrapped tightly around the bottle's neck. "I think you're all a pack of whiners!" The others explode with indignation. The toilet ignores them and continues pouring and drinking until they stop sputtering and wildly gesticulating.
"Twenty years I been in that house. Twenty! Years! Two different families. Hundreds of guests. I got a little somethin' to tell you about that. You think you can handle this?" Glares bounce between the affronted parties, but they wait and they listen. "I've seen more ass than I ever cared to! You!" Toilet finger jabs at the air in front of Car. "Nobody goes for a drive when they feel sick! And you! You ain't even been used this summer 'cause the grass hasn't even been growin' until just now! You oughtta be ashamed!" Guilty as charged, Lawnmower looks away from Toilet's righteous anger. "As for you," The dishwasher leans back to avoid the noxious fumes pouring out of the toilet. "You don't know what the hell you're talkin' about! At least you get to see the food before it comes out! Me? I'm signed up for 'In SICKNESS annnnd in health. 'Til death do us part!' Ain't none a'y'all can beat that! Frickin' pansies!"
Yes. It's true. In the same week, my car, dishwasher, toilet and lawnmower broke down on me. We had the car fixed, replaced the toilet, shopped for a new dishwasher that will hopefully arrive before the week is out (Or my hands fall off, whichever comes first. We make an AWFUL lot of dirty dishes around here!), but Eric is still trouble-shooting the lawnmower issue. Frickin' dilletante mower!
"They don't appreciate me!" the car growled, nursing a Long Island Iced Tea. "I work and work and work! I take the entire load of howler monkeys everywhere they need to go, in comfort and style and do they take care of me? No! Let's see how they like it when I don't start anymore!"
"Yah? You t'ink dat's so bad? I gotta eat alla dat grass. And it ain't like it's just grass, neither. Naw, they gots weeds all ovah da place! Who the hell wantsah eat dat crap alla da time? I'm sick uv it! I'm done!" The lawnmower slams its pint of beer onto the table angrily. Beer sloshes onto the tabletop and drips onto the floor.
"Grass?!" the dishwasher cried, affronted. "All you have to eat is grass and maybe some weeds? Try my diet some time! I have to eat everything. All! The! Time! I have to work twice or even three times a day. And if they have a party?!" Dishwasher rolls its eyes dramatically. "Four or maybe even five times in a single day! They don't even rinse all that thoroughly, either. Like they expect my built in disposer to handle all of that food they're constantly eating! What are they? Gluttons? The food making never stops! All day long: eat, eat, eat! I'm so sick of it! I'm going on strike! See how they like that!" The dishwasher folds its arms over it's metal chest and leans back in its chair. The space in front of it remains conspicuously empty of drink.
A drunken snort escapes from Toilet's mouth. The other three turn and regard it with curious hostility.
"You three think you have it soooo bad. You know what I think?" The toilet slams back yet another whiskey and gestures angrily at the others with the bottle, its hand wrapped tightly around the bottle's neck. "I think you're all a pack of whiners!" The others explode with indignation. The toilet ignores them and continues pouring and drinking until they stop sputtering and wildly gesticulating.
"Twenty years I been in that house. Twenty! Years! Two different families. Hundreds of guests. I got a little somethin' to tell you about that. You think you can handle this?" Glares bounce between the affronted parties, but they wait and they listen. "I've seen more ass than I ever cared to! You!" Toilet finger jabs at the air in front of Car. "Nobody goes for a drive when they feel sick! And you! You ain't even been used this summer 'cause the grass hasn't even been growin' until just now! You oughtta be ashamed!" Guilty as charged, Lawnmower looks away from Toilet's righteous anger. "As for you," The dishwasher leans back to avoid the noxious fumes pouring out of the toilet. "You don't know what the hell you're talkin' about! At least you get to see the food before it comes out! Me? I'm signed up for 'In SICKNESS annnnd in health. 'Til death do us part!' Ain't none a'y'all can beat that! Frickin' pansies!"
-----
Yes. It's true. In the same week, my car, dishwasher, toilet and lawnmower broke down on me. We had the car fixed, replaced the toilet, shopped for a new dishwasher that will hopefully arrive before the week is out (Or my hands fall off, whichever comes first. We make an AWFUL lot of dirty dishes around here!), but Eric is still trouble-shooting the lawnmower issue. Frickin' dilletante mower!
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Enjoy them! Enjoy them! Enjoy them!
"Your family is beautiful," said the stranger at the table next to us as she prepared to leave the restaurant.
"Thank you!" I replied. I then waited for the next foray into twin-driven conversation. Those twins, they are conversation starters. Everyone has something to say. Sometimes it's a flat out denial that they can't be twins (since they don't look alike), or a question: boys? girls? or a confession that they are one of a twin set.
"Enjoy them! Enjoy them! Enjoy them!" she exhorted me and then paused to catch her breath. I smiled and waited for her to continue. "I lost my eldest in an accident a month ago."
Shocked, my brain scrambled to comprehend what she was telling me. I frantically thought of something to say and all I could get out was "I'm so sorry!"
"Enjoy them." She said once more and took a deep breath. I looked up at her from where I sat, holding Emma, and saw the raw pain in her eyes. She touched my shoulder fleetingly as she smiled down at Emma and then turned away. Clearly she needed to share this: that life can be so fragile, so fleeting, that we need to enjoy the moments we have because we never know when they may be over.
So here I am, sharing it with you. These moments fly by. It's not easy to enjoy them during the screaming, crying, whining and late stages of sleep deprivation, but childhood doesn't last. And nothing is forever.
Take a moment to think of this woman, one of many out in the world in the same position, who are waiting for the pain to fade. My thoughts are with her.
Then, squeeze your children, spouses, family or friends close tonight and remember to enjoy them. I will.
"Thank you!" I replied. I then waited for the next foray into twin-driven conversation. Those twins, they are conversation starters. Everyone has something to say. Sometimes it's a flat out denial that they can't be twins (since they don't look alike), or a question: boys? girls? or a confession that they are one of a twin set.
"Enjoy them! Enjoy them! Enjoy them!" she exhorted me and then paused to catch her breath. I smiled and waited for her to continue. "I lost my eldest in an accident a month ago."
Shocked, my brain scrambled to comprehend what she was telling me. I frantically thought of something to say and all I could get out was "I'm so sorry!"
"Enjoy them." She said once more and took a deep breath. I looked up at her from where I sat, holding Emma, and saw the raw pain in her eyes. She touched my shoulder fleetingly as she smiled down at Emma and then turned away. Clearly she needed to share this: that life can be so fragile, so fleeting, that we need to enjoy the moments we have because we never know when they may be over.
So here I am, sharing it with you. These moments fly by. It's not easy to enjoy them during the screaming, crying, whining and late stages of sleep deprivation, but childhood doesn't last. And nothing is forever.
Take a moment to think of this woman, one of many out in the world in the same position, who are waiting for the pain to fade. My thoughts are with her.
Then, squeeze your children, spouses, family or friends close tonight and remember to enjoy them. I will.
Friday, February 08, 2008
Always Respect the Claws
Valerie lost her kitty, Ozzy, to cancer last week. Last night she wrote a Speaking for him. Essentially a eulogy. If you've ever loved and lost a pet, especially a cat, you should go read it.
You might need a few tissues. I'm just sayin'....
I'm still a little haunted by Pixel, but in a good way (For more about Pixel, just search my blog for his name. There are many stories. Bring tissues.). Each loss leaves a little hole in your heart. Each kitty seems to ghost through the house for up to a year after their death. Are they tiny furred ghosts or are they just really loud memories? I don't think you can live with anyone for 16 years and not see them walking through your days for ages after they are officially gone.
Can you?
I don't generally believe in ghosts, but kitties seem to be different. Then again, other than my immediate family and Eric, I've never lived as long with anyone that has died other than my cats. Their deaths always feel a lot more real than that of the humans in my life that have died.
That's pretty weird, isn't it?
Rules of Ozzie:
- I can touch you, you can't touch me.
- I can come up to you and sniff and put my paw on you and sit up so I can get very close to you..... but that still doesn't mean you can pet me.
- If you don't follow this rule I will hiss. At the very least.
- If you show any fear I may swipe at you as you walk by me.
You might need a few tissues. I'm just sayin'....
I'm still a little haunted by Pixel, but in a good way (For more about Pixel, just search my blog for his name. There are many stories. Bring tissues.). Each loss leaves a little hole in your heart. Each kitty seems to ghost through the house for up to a year after their death. Are they tiny furred ghosts or are they just really loud memories? I don't think you can live with anyone for 16 years and not see them walking through your days for ages after they are officially gone.
Can you?
I don't generally believe in ghosts, but kitties seem to be different. Then again, other than my immediate family and Eric, I've never lived as long with anyone that has died other than my cats. Their deaths always feel a lot more real than that of the humans in my life that have died.
That's pretty weird, isn't it?
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Spooky
We were walking back from school with Caitlin and the twins in their double stroller when a lady came walking quickly up to us. Turns out that she recognized our stroller because hers looked just like it, except that she had fraternal twin girls.
Then things got funny.
We asked the standard question: how old are they?
"Two months," said she.
"Really?" we replied with interest. "Ours are also 2 months. What day?"
"The 28th."
"Ours were on the 27th!"
Blah blah blah!
We walked on with her since she lived down the hill as well and found out her husband's birthday is 2 days before Eric's. Eeee! Then, just to get that last little bit of weirdness out of the way, we asked when her birthday was. Nope! Not on mine, but it is the day before Eric's mother's.
It was weird and funny and she seemed very nice. Of course, now she knows where we live, so it's possible we'll see her again.
Hopefully not in a stalkerish sort of way, either.*
Heh! Heh. Hee... [Shifty eyes]
* I don't know what I'd be worried about. I pick up strange women all the time. My best all time score was Valerie. However, remind me to tell you the story of when I picked up this blonde in Ireland....
Then things got funny.
We asked the standard question: how old are they?
"Two months," said she.
"Really?" we replied with interest. "Ours are also 2 months. What day?"
"The 28th."
"Ours were on the 27th!"
Blah blah blah!
We walked on with her since she lived down the hill as well and found out her husband's birthday is 2 days before Eric's. Eeee! Then, just to get that last little bit of weirdness out of the way, we asked when her birthday was. Nope! Not on mine, but it is the day before Eric's mother's.
It was weird and funny and she seemed very nice. Of course, now she knows where we live, so it's possible we'll see her again.
Hopefully not in a stalkerish sort of way, either.*
Heh! Heh. Hee... [Shifty eyes]
* I don't know what I'd be worried about. I pick up strange women all the time. My best all time score was Valerie. However, remind me to tell you the story of when I picked up this blonde in Ireland....
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