In the Headlights

The Mane Event

I have a lot of odds and ends of shampoo and conditioner lying around.  When my Mom buys something to try and doesn't like it, she gives it to me.  Then there are literally dozens of little hotel bottles I've accumulated over time.  I like to switch them around.  I think it works better that way.

I used to like Vidal Sassoon conditioner, and Mom gave me an old bottle a year or so ago, which I just finished.  Next time I went to the store, I looked for more, but couldn't find any.  Don't know if they no longer market in grocery stores, but it wasn't there.

However, I spotted something else I had heard of:  "Mane and Tail" conditioner.  I'd read about this stuff.  It was originally used for grooming horses, then word got around that it did a great job on human hair as well.  So I bought a bottle.  Something like $3.59 for a quart.  I've used it a couple of times, and it does a great job of conditioning my hair, leaving it shiny and tangle free.

It's a real animal product.  The horse pictures on their website are amazing.  I'd kill for hair like that... 

Next stop:  Mane and Tail shampoo.

The conditioner is a great product.

Strange Brew

I heard from one of my dance instructors that absinthe is back in the stores.  I thought it was illegal due to addictive and psychoactive properties. I remembered that it was the favorite drink of the French impressionists.  I had read that Van Gogh's strange visuals were attributed to his intake of absinthe.  An ingredient called wormwood was held responsible.

Tom said they saw it on the counter of a liquor store, and bought it out of curiosity.  It was 101 proof, green and tasted nasty, like licorice.  He managed to get three fingers of it down, all the same.  Sounded to me like Ouzo or Raki, but they are diluted with water.  I found when I checked the Wikipedia link above, that absinthe also is diluted and cloudy when drunk, and probably a lot more palatable.

Apparently, the drink itself holds no qualities not found in other 100-proof alcoholic beverages.  It has been banned in the U.S., where a grande-wormwood-free product called "Absente" was sold.  However, in 2007, the ban was lifted and several brands can be legally sold.  They must be "thujone-free". Thujone was once thought to be a THC relative.  Interestingly, lots of legal products, like bitters and sage oil, contail thujone and are perfectly legal.

Speaking of strange brews, I was listening to NPR a few days ago.  They were interviewing Christiane Jory who wrote a book called The 99 ¢ Only Cookbook.  At one point, she saw a woman buying a bottle of wine at the 99 ¢ store.  She thought she had nothing to lose...and tried a bottle.  And liked it.  She said when she tried the Sauvignon Blanc, she knew she wine for the Summer...Sauvignon Blanc is my current wine fave...

Then someone mentioned Two-Buck Chuck, a good Charles Shaw wine available at Trader Joe's and other stores for about two bucks.

*  *  *  *  *

My sister and her kids were visiting this week.  They stayed at the beach but drove in every day, so I got to see they a few days running.  Amazing how fast the kids are growing up.  They're 8 and 10 now, and incredibly funny.

  Yesterday was my birthday.  It was wonderful.  I slept in, then went to the Mandarin Art Fair with Sandy.  We bought a lot of little stuff--earrings, a macrame choker and anklet, wind chimes.  It was great fun.  Then I went to a dance lesson, home to goof off, and then out to dinner with Sandy and Kathy.  We went to Marker 32.  I had a couple of Hendrick's gibsons, a diver scallops appetizer and a great piece of grouper.  Dessert was an ice cream and berry dish, and we split a a tres leches.  Much too sweet for my taste.

Pretty much a perfect birthday.  Thanks, buds.

[Image of Edgar Degas's L'Absinthe borrowed from Wikipedia.  Gibson taken by me at Marker 32, with my ATT Tilt.)

Weekend Greetings

It's been almost a week since my last post.  I find myself writing posts in my head as I drive down the road, but coming home and eating and sleeping have taken priority lately.

Interestingly, my number of hits hasn't gone down this last week.  Testament to the effectiveness of Google;  evidence to me that the bulk of my readers are accidental.  Not to slight you loyal visitors, just saying.

I downloaded my pictures from White Oak and decided to get some printed.  I copied almost 40 of them onto a CD, and took it to a local drug store and had them printed.  Much easier to share with friends.  Here are some of them:

This is Hazari, the baby cheetah playing tug of war with Kadir, the Andalusian Shepherd.  They are now five months old, and chase each other, play with toys and get petted.  Not a bad life.

Here's something else I found interesting.  An Indian rhino being fed carrots and petted.  I learned that rhinos can run up to 40 miles an hour.  Anyway, this rhino got turned, and I couldn't resist getting a photo. Weirdest thing I ever saw. Looked like a bromeliad. Forgive me.

Be back soon.

My So-Called New Life

Dear Friends, Relatives, Colleagues, Romans, Countrymen, devoted readers, blah, blah,

It is fitting that today's post will be late, part of my new laissez-faire attitude toward blogging.  Though I also blame it on this stupid early daylight saving time rollback.

  But I digress.  For over 2 1/2 years, I have blogged on a schedule.  First, two posts at 1 and 5, and more recently, once a day at 1 PM.

Lately, other things have been crowding my schedule.  I'm preparing to take a recertification exam.  We are moving to a new workplace in a month, lock, stock and pussy-cat.  And work's been a bear.  I have a number of trips coming up, some work, some pleasure.  And I squeeze in a dance lesson when I can.

And so it's become too too.  The things that should relax and divert me have become deadlines and pressure.  I'd come in late from work, and know I had to pre-post something for the next day, and get it done before I went to bed, because it sure wasn't going to happen in the morning if I expect to be at work by 0630. 

For that reason, I am going off-schedule with the blog.  No more daily posts.  I'll post  when I have something to say.  And I have plenty to say.  I'll keep going with books and movies I find interesting, good recipes, and places to travel, interesting things and people.  But I won't push myself to post when I have no ideas.  (Oh, God, now I feel the ideas rushing into my head...).

I won't have to prepost for trips, or take the computer for short trips.  Besides, now I can do short posts from my cell phone if I have something to share.

I know I'll lose some readers, I realize that some will migrate away after checking a few times and finding nothing to divert them.  Others will stick it out.

I have to do what I have to do.  Thanks for your help and support as we go through this transition.  Hopefully, In the Headlights will be a better blog for the change.

[Image of Harold Lloyd in Safety Last from Wikipedia]

A White Oak Safari

By the time this posts, I'll be at White Oak. 

Once a year, they have a weekend dedicated to "Celebration of White Oak."  Donations are tax deductible.  The experience, unforgetable.  You can come for the weekend, as I am, or for the Sunday afternoon celebration, as Sandy is.  We are both staying in a cottage Sunday night, returning Monday, so we can party hardy Sunday night without the one-hour drive back to J'ville.

It starts at noon on Sturday, March 1, with a gourmet lunch.

Then an afternoon of activities, like "Cheetah Cub Encounters," and "Rhino, Bird and Antelope Game Drives."  Or you can have an "Okapi Encounter" or a research or veterinary tour, kayaking or nature walk.  Or boating, sporting clays, horseback riding, golf, or just plain goofing off at the big game room (i.e., bar).

In the evening, there is the "Sundowner River Cruise", with cocktails and light hors d'oeuvres cruising down the river, and then a "Formal Bush Dinner", with a formal fireside meal.

Sunday morning activities are similar to the Saturday selection.  then from 2 PM to 7:30 PM, the celebration itself, with special toursand cheetah encounters, followed by cocktails and hors d'oeuvres, and remarks by John Lukas, President of Gilman International Conservation, and discussions with field researchers from Africa and Conservation Center staff.

Then dinner.

The Honorary Chair is Isabella Rossellini.

A nice vacation for moi, and all I have to use is one vacation day. 

I'll share pictures.

A Fairy Tale to Live By

Vivian gave me this.  It applies pretty well to her, and me as well.  She went through an acrimonious divorce a couple of years ago, but at least came away with a sweet little boy, whom she adores.

Once upon a time, a guy asked a girl "Will you marry me?"

The girl said "No!"

And the girl lived happily ever after, and went shopping, dancing, camping; she drank martinis, there was no one to tell her she shouldn't. She always had a clean house.  She didn't have to cook if she didn't want to (especially to the specifications of someone else), she did whatever the hell she wanted, never argued, didn't get fat, travelled, and had many lovers.  She didn't save money, and had all the hot water to herself.  She went to the theater, never watched sports, never had to wear lacy lingerie that went up her butt.   She had high self esteem, never cried or yelled, felt and looked fabulous in sweat pants, and was pleasant all the time.

THE END!

Sounds good to me...wait, it IS me!  Somewhat, anyway.

[Image from fishboy]

Skin Tight

I was going to loan Skin Tight to a friend who was unacquainted with  Carl Hiaasen's wicked brand of black humor.

Before turning it over, though, I reread the first chapter, and was hooked.

This is one of my favorote Hiaasens.  The others are Tourist Season, and Double Whammy...his early stuff. I think his early success led him to write faster and more formulaic.  Many know him as the creator of Skink, the former Florida governor who eats roadkill.

This one, though, is a gem.  Filled with creeps and bizarre bad guys, it is the story of a very inept plastic surgeon, and the tangled mess he weaves trying to extricate himself from lawsuits and a homocide investigation.

He hires Chemo, a 6'9" 180 lb. geek with a cottage cheese complexion to take care of his woes.

The setting is Miami, where Hiaasen was, for years, a columnist and reporter for the Miami Herald before turning his hand to fiction.  He still writes columns for his old paper.  He's pretty cynical about his old stomping grounds and its inhabitants.

The hero is Mick Stranahan, a former investigator who just wants to exist in peace in his house in Stiltsville.  In his life, Mick has killed five men and married five women.  Enough to make anyone want to avoid him.  Yet he remains curiously unspoiled.  He is supported by some colleagues who go way back, and hunted by...some colleagues who go way back.

In typical Hiaasen fashion, things turn hilariously bizarre, bad guys are eradicated in very creative ways, and the urbanization and "development" of paradise is almost another character.

If you like Hiaasen, I'd suggest you go back and read his early stuff.  You're in for a treat.

[Sorry this is late.  Could not get the image link to work.]

Happy Birthday, Sandy

For Sandy's birthday Wednesday, she, Kathie and I went out to dinner.  We went to a restaurant called 1171, which opened recently.  Kathie'd been there for another birthday celebration, but it was the first time for Sandy and I.

The decor was modern and warm, the service was friendly without being smothering.  They had Hendrick's gin, so I had a very good dry gibson, straight up.  (Thanks for driving, Kath.) 

The food was excellent.  Sandy and I had appetizers;  she ordered escargot, I had scallops and polenta.  The others had salads that were so big, I got to help with those.  For dinner, I got butternut squash risotto.  I've made risotto before, but it never turned out to be as good as wonderful as I'd heard it should be.  This was.  There was the option of adding a piece of protein, and I got a piece of ahi tuna, rare.  Yum.  Sandy had homemade spinach fettucine with scallops and shrimp, and Kathie got braised shortribs.

After splitting a decadent chocolate dessert, we left the restaurant in time to see the beginning of the lunar eclipse.  We opened Kathie's moon roof so we could watch it on the way home.  By the time we got back to my house, it was about half eclipsed.  It was beautiful to watch.  Strange that the edge being eclipsed seemed to have a fuzzy, ragged quality.  It looked like a mouse was taking bites out of the side of it.  Kathie speculated that it was because the surface of the Earth, which was causing the eclipse, is irregular.  Maybe the ragged quality was caused by the shadow of the Andes or the Himalayas.  I don't know, but it was neat.  It started clouding over after awhile, so I gave it up, but it was great while it lasted.

Nice of the moon to do that for Sandy's birthday.

[Image from Garden Detective]

You Say "Elegy", I Say "Eulogy"

When I went for a dance lesson with Tom yesterday, I brought him Naked by David Sedaris.

He was looking at the back cover and said "What does elegiac mean?"

Hoping to bluff, and look smart, I said "Um...'elegy-like'".

"Thank you very much", says he.  "What's an elegy?"

I said, well, like Gray's "Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard." 

"So, then, is it like a eulogy?"

"I don't think so...I don't know" I replied.

A eulogy, or eulogizing, as you know, is saying nice things about somebody after they're dead.  Its origins seem to be Latin, eulogium, and before that, Greek, "eu" or praise, and "logy" or speech.

Now, elegy.  It may be a poem written in a certain kind of couplet, but it is also a song or poem as a lament for a deceased person;  a song or poem of mourning.  It may be from the Phrygian, or back through French and Latin to the Greek "elegeia", or mournful song.

I think the reference in the review of Sedaris's book meant that he was looking back at the past, some at his mother, who was diagnosed with breast cancer in one of the stories.  Modern elegies may be written out of a broad sense of loss and metaphysical sadness.

[Image link here]

Be Mine, Dammit!

Well, it's another St. Valentine's Day, and you, once again, get to be my valentine.  Don't be coy, you know you want it.

This holiday has always made me uncomfortable.  When Red was alive, it was the feeling that you had to do something...buy overpriced gifts or eat mediocre at a too-busy restaurant.  Now that I am without a valentine, I feel as if I should skulk in the shadows, as my bouquets sent to my co-workers pile up at the front desk.  Why, I wonder, do people feel they have to send their loved ones flowers at work.  An ostentatious display of their love, I guess.

I was listening to NPR, and commentator Lori Gottlieb was being interviewed about an article of hers in the Atlantic Monthly. About how women should settle for Mr. Good Enough, and stop searching for Mr. Right.  She correctly pointed out that many marriages based on passion fizzle and burn themselves out quickly, and that a more practical and pragmatic attitude toward marriage may lead to a happier and more satisfying union.

I guess that would presupposed that you wanted the marriage state (for practical reasons:  better health, combined finances, someone else to walk the dog?)  I don't see it that way.  If I were to get married, I'd have to really, really be into that person.  Otherwise, why bother.

That's my take, anyway.

Happy Feb. 14, My Funny Valentines.

[Image from Icon Drawer]