Pop Quiz, Hotshot

Which product features the following warning?:

NEW USERS: Increase your fiber intake gradually. Gastrointestinal discomfort may occur until your body adjusts.

A. Metamucil Original Blend (orange flavor)

B. Metamucil Lite for Women (acai berry flavor)

C. 5-hour Energy Drink

D. Organic Broccoli Florets - 12 ounce bag

E. Fiber-con Fiber Supplement pills

F. Taco Bell "It's-Beef-to-Us" Chalupa Supreme

G. Centrum Copper - Specially Formulated for Women in their 30s

H. Vintage 1999 Lays Potato Chips - original Olean formula

I. None of the Above

If you said I, then you know your packaging (or you talk about yourself a lot)! And that I J K! I was just kidding (and you don't talk about yourself a lot, I'm the one blogging, right?). I don't know if the above products exist. But I did happen to purchase and consume the product whose box includes the above warning label, set apart from the rest of the text in a way that makes it seem like they were legally required to inform me of the potential for gastrointestinal discomfort. The above warning belongs to the fine folks at Kellogg's and their glorified granola bars "Fiber Plus Antioxidants." I realize now that that is the actual product name. There's nothing suggesting a food base is under all this "health." Even the flavor assigned to this product is not quite owning up to being a real flavor. "Chocolatey Peanut Butter" is not chocolate, and it's not peanut butter. It's like what, a flavored version of a flavor? Peanut butter that tastes like chocolate? Is the chocolate not chocolate? Ha! I just read the ingredients more closely and NO, no it is not chocolate. There's some cocoa powder, but there's nothing that's identifiable as chocolate itself, apparently. You know what there is a lot of? (In addition to dangerous levels of fiber, apparently) SUGAR. Not only is it the fourth ingredient on the list, it's the second ingredient on the list of sub-ingredients that comprise the third ingredient on the list. So, to recap:

fiber powder

oats

rice that's mostly sugar

sugar

And we haven't even scratched the surface on hydrogenated oils! So, now having basically consumed a candy bar, I get to the notification that this sweet treat might tear me UP! Awesome. This just cannot be good for me. I think this is what broccoli is supposed to do. Even chocolatey broccoli.

There are a lot of promises here that these allow one to "treat yourself to better nutrition," but I sort of feel like the "TM" logo after that phrase should instead be an asterisk warning "actual nutrition most probably not that much better..."

I do get:

7 grams of whole grains

zinc

vitamin E

antioxidants

a buttload of fiber

and a rich chocolatey layer (TM) [note: real chocolate not promised]

This angst at a product that sells nutrition when it's actually a granola bar is most probably sourced by my having given up some desserty treats for Lent, and supplementing their absence with all manner of "nutritional" bar items. These FiberPlus Antioxidants are an egregious offense to the integrity of my efforts. I mean, quite frankly, these are a not-too-shabby approximation of the flavors found in Girl Scout Samoas (now Caramel Delites) cookies. So it's really like I'm feeling gastrointestinal distress in my SOULLLLLLLLLL. Well, more so in my...ahem...moral fiber.

Thank God I'm supplementing!

Keeping my Smile in Working Condition

Somehow the remainder of this week is unfolding with a slow motion sort of speed that is leading me to dream of escape and nature and outer space. I've definitely acquired some sort of funk that has, thus far, proven hard to shake. Today I was returning to work after lunch, mired in my own bad mood, when I happened to bump into my dental hygienist.

There are some people in life who are like peace resources for me, lighthouses of calm and goodness for times when I feel adrift in the sea of the world. Or even if I am riding the waves, these people improve what is already going well. Some people just give off a sense that everything will be ok. These people are treasures. Even more so when you're not expecting to find treasure. My dental hygienist is one such gem. A diamond in the rough of tartar and plaque and whatever else might be on teeth, I love her.

And I know that sounds ridiculous. I don't even know her last name. But I love her as a person. She is full of kindness and cannot hide it. When she asks questions about my life or my flossing, I know she is sincere. Her work space has several inspirational, partially religious quotes in Spanish posted on cabinets under labels that say things like "suction" and "t.brushes." I guess it is comforting to know she is actively working on moving through life with kindness and light for others, but I still feel like she HAS to have come that way. I do not imagine her default setting ever being "rage" for life experiences unless it was for something completely justified, not "that guy littered," which would be all it would take for me (note I wrote that as a hypothetical, but it definitely actually happened. I know it is all it would take).

Today we talked about how she waves at patients and they do not recognize her out of context and without a mask. I told her I liked her new haircut (I did!), and talked about the weather. It was maybe a 2 minute exchange. She told me to keep flossing. It was 2 minutes that totally made the difference in my day. Life, improved.

I love her as a hygienist too, not just a friendly face. She always asks several times about my comfort throughout a cleaning. And she's got a great sense of humor. And she listens to the Oldies station and hums or sings along as she works. It's so comforting, I can't even do it justice. It's like the opposite of my experiences in hair salons where there is forced banter and stress at not having a cool enough conversation and feeling I've let down the stylists personally by not doing a thing with my hair and not really giving them adequate information about what I'd like them to do with it. That's not how I feel at the dentist, a location that should, comparatively, be far more anxiety-inducing. I give all credit to Isabelle. The keeper of my smile.

Thanks, Isabelle!

Steeling the Show - Holy Pittsburgh, Batman!

I learned today that Christopher Nolan is bringing his whole caped crusading gang to Pittsburgh to film the next installment of Batman. Now, I'm not sure if you've read my other rather lengthy rambles about the importance people from the city of Pittsburgh place on letting other people know about the city of Pittsburgh when cool things happen in the city of Pittsburgh (or when famous people are from the city of Pittsburgh), but let's just say, we're the little city that cares big time. So this news comes like a bat signal of its own to Pittsburghers - living there and relocated - to let others know immediately just how awesome our city is (duh!).

Sure, Batman already wore black and gold (at least before he became a darker sort of knight), but now he's going to be fighting the forces of crime and corruption in America's most livable city! (Oh, did I mention that was an honor bestowed upon the city? It was). There's a very good chance that Gotham just got a lot more bridges than it ever had before, based on this new location. There's also a good chance CGI will not be necessary for some abandoned industrial set pieces. But be warned, Christopher Nolan's location scout, you will need to bring your own lung-choking industrial smog and smoke if that's the gritty grit Batman will have to battle! We are not a dirty steel town. Do not let your perception from 1972 hold sway.

After seeing Christian Bale portray a Lowell, Massachusetts, resident and life so gosh-darned believably, I'm not going to lie and say it's not a deeply rooted fantasy and hope that he'll do some character studies while in Pittsburgh and, I dunno, make a fantastic Pittsburgh-based movie quite immediately. I don't know if it'd be Flashdance II or the next installment of Inspector Gadget (yeah, those were filmed in Pittsburgh), but it'd be great.

Also amazing - the way in which a few shots of Batman together with the Steelers, creating a Pittsburgh-specific justice league (with Hines Ward hoisting his mirrored ball Dancing with the Stars trophy, at some point, of course) could single-handedly inspire the largest opening weekend gross in one city in movie history. Maybe throw in some shots of Dan Rooney, have music by the Clarks, and for the love of god, include I.C. Light at the after party.

Just something to think about!

Vacationality - it's spreading!

The funny thing about having someone visit you on what is a vacation for them is suddenly you also lose all track of day, time, and sense of responsibility to a world or activities other than whatever is next on your agenda o' fun. Today my parents and I enjoyed a giant brunch and a Dodger game. Dodger dogs were had, even after a giant brunch. The wave was waved. And the Dodgers won! Defeating the Giants and allowing for ample opportunity for enterprising young people to chant "Giants Suck!" at the opposing team. It was indeed, a good Sunday! I'm not even dreading going to work tomorrow. Probably because I'm not.
Instead, there's a museum to visit, and I'm sure about 7-12 meals to eat.
I would write more, but I really need my rest. Gotta be fresh when living the retired lifestyle!

Living up to the Tagline

The happiest place on earth.
No, really.

The "No, really" could have easily been added to Disneyland's advertising today and accurately described the experience my parents had during their first foray into the wonderful world of Disney theme parks and attractions (I realize that is probably a phrase that is somehow subject to copyright infringement or enforcement). Never having seen a princess's tower made real, or a Mickey Mouse in gleaming top coat and tails wave with a look that is so smiley and reassuring that you can't BELIEVE that's really Mickey and he's really waving to you, my parents were on cloud nine. And the cloud was wearing mouse ears.

They also had astoundingly unbelievable luck. They walked into the park, and Mickey was standing there. There was a 20 minute wait on Pirates of the Caribbean, and it only took us 10. We walked onto It's a Small World like we were the guy in Carly Simon's "You're So Vain" walked into the party like he was walking onto a yacht. We had it in the bag, easy. And my parents loved every minute of it. The world of laughter, the world of tears, the world of hopes and the world of fears, and even the song 100 times in a row. They loved that the trash cans were thematically different in every part of the part. They loved the flowers. They loved the characters. They loved the stories and the worlds, and everything that kids of all ages are supposed to love about Disneyland. It's as though my parents were the people Disney's ad firm followed around to gauge visitor reaction to the park, but just decided to cast 3-year-olds and 5-year-olds in the commercials that sell that image to the public, because they are cuter.

I am, as one inevitably is after a day in the happiest place on earth, spent!
Thank you, Space Mountain. And good night Mickey Mouse.

Go West to a New Nest

Big shakes for me this weekend, and most probably sub-standard blog efforts as a result - my parents are in town! The empty nesters have come home to roost. In my nest! And so far so good, though they both have winter coats and hats, as well as flannel pajamas, to keep them extra warm amid a west coast heat wave. Also, my dad, ever the minimalist, has a suitcase with him for this weekend excursion that I believe is one size shy of a steamer trunk. Very good to be prepared. And amazingly, neither my brothers nor I were in scouts organizations as children. Is that sentence right? Sounds funky! Anyway.

It's kind of nice to get a new perspective, even if familiar, on the daily surroundings. My parents left snow on the ground and 30 degree temperatures this morning and deplaned to 80 degrees and sunny this afternoon. It's nice to be reminded of the incredible fortune that is typical California weather. Even as I spent the day sweating through my shirt on a repeated basis. I also am reminded that yes, traffic is a bit wilder in the wild west, mostly by the "I can't believe he did that!" comments made by my parents about the behaviors and actions of other drivers. My mom's most used phrase "I'm trying not to watch." My dad, by comparison, is so elated to see sp much sun at once that he's pretty darned easy going.
It's as though he gets a vitamin-D infusion that is of an amount that renders an effect akin to that of using illegal drugs. Suddenly, stressors just don't seem like a big deal. It's so sunny. I'm sure whatever the problem is, eh, it'll go away.

And, speaking of illegal/legal drugs, our first trip to the beach netted a shiny new business card that I tried to let my parents decode, but to no avail. It was for a marijuana dispensary. Our first foray out of the car since I'd picked them up and not 5 minutes later, they were being offered an easy, convenient way to buy drugs at a beach storefront.

Welcome to California, mom and dad.

The Look that Says it All

This evening the sunset was a sight to behold - pink and blue and bright, especially so after leaving a Walgreen's victorious, temporarily, in my personal battle (seemingly ongoing, perhaps due in no small part to my place of business and the college kids running rampant therein) against oblivious entitled 20-somethings who seem to lack all self-awareness, or are aware of themselves, but just don't care if they're COMPLETELY ANNOYING AND ABSURD and well, obviously more important than you. Obviously.

Do I sound old and bitter? It's generational, I'm sure.

But why was there a silent war? And how was I a silent victor? A silent alliance with a sympathetic "Are you effing kidding me???" look from the woman working the pharmacy counter at Walgreen's (bless her!) made it so. Because she made them wait. And checked me outta there and back into the sunset. And even did so professionally.

So, most times a pharmacy counter might be a bit crowded in an after work buzz time, like the grocery store, or Taco Bell's drive-thru line at 2 a.m. Part of making a trip easy involves avoiding a busy time. I thought I might be remotely safe at 7:30. There was still a line, but not too bad. There was a man who seemed intoxicated picking up something for his wife. There was an annoyed woman chewing her gum like a cow chews cud while not looking up from her iPhone. And then there was the oblivious couple canoodling in the pharmacy line, talking about how it's awesome to not have claaasss on Friday and like, how it's so crazy how even in such a tough semester, not having class on Friday like, totally just happened. Midterms are going to be crazy. But at least it's almost the weekend.

The girl was wearing short shorts and flip flops and her college sweatshirt (sigh, yes, that same one) and her beau was wearing a surf-brand endorsed aquamarine professionally distressed t-shirt and shorts. They were discussing how many things were like, totally hard. And how many things were like, totally awesome.
And somehow, when the red sea of their love and sympathies for each other's daily struggles conversationally broke and they physically parted, they revealed warfare - a cart. A cart full of stuff. At the pharmacy counter.

Now, did I buy two items at the same time as my prescription? Yes. Yes I did. But do I believe there's an unwritten "express-ish lane" law governing acceptable behavior in the pharmacy register area? Yes. Yes I do.

Sure. If it's 10:30 a.m. on a Wednesday, and you are checking your blood pressure like you do every week and maybe you have 2 boxes of epsom salts in your cart because there is a sale and suddenly the tin of danish butter cookies in there is holding up the tube socks you are buying because they were on the display, sure. Go ahead. Because there is probably not a line behind you. And the pharmacy isn't closing at about the same rate that the sun is setting. And you are probably 85 years old and retired and enjoying some shopping, and EVERYONE ELSE THERE IS TOO. That's the custom at that time of day! And you've earned the right to bring your cart to the pharmacy - you're 85.

This did not qualify to the two able-bodied-yet-highly-annoyed-while-oblivious-to-the fact-that-they-were-highly-annoying young people in front of me. When I say able-bodied, I do not exaggerate. Like, I wondered if this girl was on the diving team. She had the muscle definition to qualify. But not, apparently to wait in the line at the front of the store to avoid pissing off the 4 people behind her.

Cart contents:
Giant jug of water
Giant box of tampons
Lean Cuisines thrown randomly about the cart
Toilet paper
Miscellany*

*There was enough miscellany to necessitate use of the front and the seat portion of this cart. A lot of miscellany.

So this girl starts unloading her items, puts about 4 of them on the pharmacy counter like it is in fact the grocery store but the checkout girl just happens to be wearing a white coat, and casually asks for her prescription.
Which was like, called in like 10 minutes agoooo.

Amazingly, the prescription was not ready, as it had to be prepared in the real world, where gratification is not, in fact, instant at all times (even I have to suffer this hard lesson in my impatient moments).

Response to this news?
"Ohhhhhhhh. Ok."

Totally un-stymied, she left the 4 items she'd unloaded on the counter, and just lingered there with her cart and her boyfriend and her car keys and her hair twirl, oblivious to the fact that the woman working the counter intended to help other people in the space she was occupying.

"Next," said the pharmacy tech. I loved her. She was not about to put up with this b.s.

The drunk man's wife's prescription was also not ready yet.

"Next," she said, and eyed me like she knew I had murderous rage on my mind.

She even went so far as to re-orient the credit card machine to me and away from the girl's 4-item road block in a passive aggressive attempt to get this girl to get an effing clue and move herself, her stuff, her cart.

It was her boyfriend that picked up on it, but said nothing. He just went and sat down in the chairs (usually occupied by the elderly at 10:30 as they wait for their prescriptions to be filled) set apart from the counter, and she soon followed.

"These are like, massage chairs or something..." She said, acting as though she was in Brookstone at the mall and not a Walgreen's.

I don't think I rolled my eyes, but something must have come out on my face to show my disdain because that was when the pharmacy tech and I had the most loaded "Here you go" and "Thank you" exchange I've had in a long, long while.
In just saying that and moving our faces, here's what was really said.

Me: I cannot effing believe she just left her lean cuisine spaghetti and meatballs and a pack of mini kleenexes on the counter in everyone's way and just has no clue it's totally annoying.

Her: Not as annoying as what's coming out of her mouth.

Me: Tell me about it. When's the last time I felt sorry for a college kid who had to suffer the slings and arrows of a 4 day week?

Her: Never. Which is about when I want to fill that prescription.

Me: Yeah, but they'd probably never get the hint and would stay here until their cell phone batteries ran out.

Her: L.O.L. I'd say if I were her, instead of laughing.

Me: Totallyyyyyyyyy.

Her: Anyway,

Me: Thanks again. Keep fighting the good fight.

Her: You too. Into the sunset you go.

And so I did.
The best medicine perhaps? Being understood!