Bembo's Zoo

Raining outside? Kids driving you crazy? Head over to Bembo's Zoo for a few minutes of fun. Click on any letter of the alphabet to generate an animal name whose letters quickly morph into a quirky animal image.

Check out this cuter than cute Antelope!


Makes me want to design my own font-generated Christmas cards. In my spare time, that is.

I Live in a Cave

Did you ever notice that as Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer leaves the Island of Misfit Toys, he walks out of the house in the middle of the night and forgets to close the door? It's winter and just short of the North Pole for crying out loud. Dude, your friends could die!

My friend Todd once quipped, "What's up with that Rudolph? Were you raised in a cave?" (Answer: yes.)

Anyway, I now know for a fact that I, too, live in a cave, under a rock, on a distant planet far outside the solar system because I just heard that the Foo Fighters played here last night with Supergrass. While I think the Foo Fighters have some fantabulous tunes (e.g., Everlong), I really love Supergrass. The kids really love Supergrass. We're one big happy Supergrass family. Well, maybe not the hubby.

Yes, I feel like I'm way too old to be going to shows and, yes again, I probably wouldn't have enjoyed myself, blah blah blah -- but I think I would have made an exception for this show. But I'm so out of the mix, I didn't even know it was taking place. L - l - loser!

To make it even more interesting given that we hillbillies have very little going on in these parts, apparently the entire cast of Top Chef was with them taping an episode here with the Foo(d) Fighters (sorry, couldn't help myself). They were all sighted yesterday afternoon in their white chef's coats at a local supermarket that (for some unknown reason) was NOT Wegman's but was reportedly a lesser known retailer in a small town. I can't help but wonder: were they in our very own little Mendon Meadows Market (a.k.a. M³)?

After the show, they were again sighted at the Dinosaur BBQ downtown where I could have been had I gone to the show. But, then again, probably not. Who needs to pig out (no pun intended) at that hour?

I suddenly feel the need to rewrite the lyrics to "Alright" from:

We are young, we run green,
Keep our teeth, nice and clean,
See our friends, see the sights, feel alright.

To this to better reflect my life:

We are old, we're uncool
Water the lawn, clean the pool (if we had one)
Feed our kids, kiss them goodnight, feel alright

Everybody Wants Some

Driving home from swimming off my brother-in-law's boat on Sunday, the boys and I had the following, painstaking conversation filled with the comic delivery of a six-year-old.

Me: Hey, you guys like this band. Do you know this song?

Son #1: No. Who is it?

Me: Guess.

Son #2: Poison? (No.)

Son #2: Motley Crew? (No.)

Son #2: Guns n' Roses? (No.)

Son #2: Poison? (No.) (Son #1: You just said that.)

Son #2: Motley Crew? (No.) (Son #1: You just said that, too.)

Son #2: Guns n' Roses? (No.) (We're laughing now.)

Son #1: Cheap Trick.

Me: No, but closer.

Son #2: Cheap Dick?

Me: Stop it with the dick jokes.

Son #1: Scorpions?

Me: I'll give you a hint -- it starts with the letter V.

Son #2: Vorpions?

Son #1: Van Halen!

Son #2: You mean Bad Halen.

Picky, picky. And although I'm not a huge rock n' roller, I think that song is great, no?

Wild Cat

Wow! According to Youniverse, my personality is a "wild cat." Wishful thinking? Adventurous soul, taste for the good life, unconventional. Sound like me? I'm not sure.

In short . . .

Fun = Thriller: love to be far away from everyday life, enjoy flirting, holidays should be indulgent

Habits = High Time Roller: like to get dressed up, go out, and be seen in all of the glamorous haunts (yeah, Thirsty's?)

Social = Socialite: can't imagine life without best friends

Speaking of which, off to "girls' night out" on Keuka Lake. Yea! Have a great weekend.

Just My Imagination

Yes, for all of you who have been pretending to listening to my million and one untouched awesome ideas for years, I now have a place to stick publish them: IDEASTOX.

I just put the long-running LaundryLug idea up there. We'll see if anyone else finds it even remotely compelling. Maybe someday I'll put a few more concepts up (well, at least those that haven't been executed and may still have legs so to speak).

Check it out: a hybrid of one of "my" ideas is already up there. I, of course, voted: YES!

Love this site! Can't wait to see comes of their great idea . . .

Pocket Full of Posies

I was recently asked what biblical character I identify with the most. I had never really asked myself that question before (who has?) but the answer came readily: Joseph. Not because my siblings hated me (at least to the best of my knowledge) but rather because he, to me, is the "patron saint" of the fact that no matter what bad things may happen in your life, something good can come out of them. Yet, during our most difficult times, we don't have a clear picture of the future and simply feel anguish.

In Joseph's case, after being left for dead, sold into slavery, and later imprisoned, he became the chief adviser of the Pharaoh in Egypt, advised the country to stockpile food in case of famine and, in turn, saved his family from starvation when they came seeking food. Never would have guessed that outcome when he was abandoned in a ditch, huh?

I bring this up because, a couple of weeks ago, Son #2 decided to nickname me Posie. He calls it my "stage name." Whatever. I happen think it's cute; almost as cute as "mama." (He has also taken to rubbing the sides of my tummy to make me laugh. He's adorable.)

Anyhoo, I just went to Behind the Name to read about my real name (who, by the by, was a nun/saint who was thrown in a vat of molted lead by the Moors) and randomly decided to see what Posie meant. In addition to the obvious floral reference, it's diminutive of Josephine which tracks back to the feminine form of Joseph. But of course.

Anything for a Buck

For whatever reason, this guy cracks me up.

For $1, he will think about you for a minute and send you an email. Or he'll take a picture of the sky and email it to you. For $20, he'll send you a rock from the Hudson River.

Or you can put money down (along with others) to fund many of his larger ventures. He has raised just over $200 to get his MFA and he's raised $25 to go to Taketomi (an Okinawan island) and gather star sand. He's currently seeking money to travel to South America, Newfoundland, Perth, New Haven, Los Angeles and Iceland. (So am I, for that matter!)

Thanks to the generous donations of visitors to his site, he has visited a psychic, gone to West Saugerties to find the house where Bob Dylan recorded the Basement Tapes, fed the homeless, read the Little Prince on the steps of the NYSE, and sold some of his secrets to others.

To date, he hasn't become rich off this scheme (to the best of my knowledge) but I would venture to guess that his life has become more interesting.

With that said, if anyone wants to send me money, please don't hesitate. I will most definitely attribute the source and what it funded on this enormously popular blog of mine. Big fish/small pond notoriety at its finest.

(Note: Mom, unless you recommend otherwise, your generous donations will remain under the radar screen. There are already way too many to mention but I can easily change all of that with a quick tap-tap-tap on the keyboard. Just last week, new socks, another guitar for the boys to compete with one another on Guitar Hero, free babysitting, a book called "Fit for God," a bottle of Prosecco, etc. Yet that's just the tip of the iceberg . . . )

Speaking of funding, my boss recently offered to pay for a full back tattoo if I wanted one. She specifically indicated that she wanted it to be a giant, fire breathing dragon or maybe an eagle. Given that I still don't have pierced ears, I think she made a somewhat safe bet. Won't she be surprised when she gets the bill?!

Dumb Luck

My coworker Bill once said, "I think this was meant for you" as he handed me a fortune cookie that read, "Your success will astonish everyone."

Insult notwithstanding, I'm still waiting . . .

Something to Look Forward To

The hubby's band from the late 70s/early 80s is performing early next month at Abilene, a newish bar downtown. Although the Press Tones were "big" in Rochester back in the day, I'm honestly not sure if I ever saw them back then or not. They played Scorgies frequently; however, I typically went down there only to see a much beloved Spanish teacher's band, Personal Effects. (In retrospect, that must have been a huge buzz kill for her. A brief weekend away from her students only to see our fresh, underage faces adorning the audience of a dark, smoky bar.)

I was a closet music fanatic and, to quote Blondie, a "case of partial extreme." The Clash meets Karen Carpenter. More of a black nail polish/monogrammed sweater girl. Come to think of it, I still am like that.

Huh. The more that things change, the more they stay the same? Damn, that's two days running where I'm quoting Rush. Help! Plus ca change. Plus c'est la meme chose. Arghhhhhhhhh.

Aging with My Friends

A couple of years ago, I was sitting with my girlfriend Meg's husband on their basement floor while his daughters covered us with makeup and feather boas and placed big hats on our heads. I asked him, "If you had seen a vision of yourself like this when you were in college, do you think you would have had kids?" He responded, "Probably not. This can't look good."

I was thinking about appearances again last weekend while at my girlfriend Mary's cottage on Keuka Lake.

On Saturday, I just wanted to swim out to their floating trampoline and chill out in the sunshine but totally took up the challenge to coax another friend, Christine, into a "slow" tube ride behind the boat with us while agreeing with Mary's husband that, as soon as we were comfortable, he should go as fast as possible.

Really, at what age do people stop trying to mess with each others' heads? We've been friends since the late 60s/early 70s and nothing (yet everything) has changed.

I wondered if, at age 15, I had seen a future vision of ourselves in our mid-40s, with kids on the boat, screaming like we were still teenagers, would I have thought it looked funny?

I remember Mary telling me when we were around 20 years old that she couldn't wait until we got into the nursing home so we could eat Ho Hos all day long and play quarters whenever we wanted. Her premise was: Who cares if we get fat when we're 85? We may as well have fun.

Although the quarters part is no longer appealing, I think hanging out with my girlfriends when I'm 85 appeals to me even more today than it did when I was 20.

Oddly enough, just as I was writing this, I got a call from my friend Erin who said that her parents had moved to -- get this -- Surprise, Arizona. She said it was like Disneyworld for retirees. They are on the party circuit, going out for dinners, cruising around in golf carts, and having the time of their lives. Doesn't that sound like fun?

For now, I'll enjoy the weekends with my kids and my friends. In 40 years, who knows. Will it be quarters at dawn or golf?

Go! Team

I wore a Yankees cap sleeve t-shirt to church yesterday.

As I entered the sanctuary, the greeter handed me a pamphlet and jokingly stated, "We don't allow that shirt in here."

I responded, "Well, I'm not planning on taking it off."

His face turned bright red and he began stammering. Oh really, that's not what you meant? Oops. My mistake!

It's like shooting ducks in a barrel.

Dress for Finesse

I just came across the following bit of advice:

[Creative] Directors do not wear band shirts, ripped jeans and Chuck Taylors. If you are looking to move up in the industry, dress for where you want to be, not where you are.

I thought I would adopt the opposite philosophy for myself:

Management consultants should embrace band shirts, ripped jeans and Chuck Taylors. If you are looking to remember that you once had something that remotely passed for personality and yearn for those idyllic days, dress for where you want to be, not where you are.

Mea Culpa

I ordered a work-related book from Amazon on June 26. Since the dollar amount was so close to the "free shipping" minimum, I ordered another small book to qualify. When I looked at the estimated arrival date, it stated July 8. I immediately thought, "that's impossible." I could walk there by then. They must be setting low expectations and planning to exceed them . . . wrong.

Three days later, the "shipment has left seller facility and is in transit" (Warrendale PA)

Three more days later, "arrival scan" (Warrendale PA -- same town! Traveling by rickshaw?)

Three additional days later, "in transit" followed immediately by "undeliverable"

Whaaaaaaaaaat? I checked my order and, sure enough, I had my old zip code on the shipping address from our previous office which is, by the by, two feet up the road.

My question: Wouldn't it be cheaper for the USPS to do a simple zip code lookup and deliver it to my office than to ship it back to Amazon? I know I screwed up but come on. Aren't they the official keepers of all things zip code related? What the ?

If I were Amazon and shipping a gazillion packages through the U.S. Postal Service, I would demand better service. Now, according to an email from their customer service team, I will be getting a full refund for the returned book.

Good! Because I just ordered it from Barnes and Noble and it will be ready for pickup later this week.

Hey baby, it's the fourth of July

Er, well it was the fourth last weekend when the kids and I trekked to:

• The woods of South Sutton NH to visit my gorgeous girlfriend Anne and her picture perfect family
• Sweet little Lake Wicwas in Meredith NH to spend the day swimming with my fabulous brother and sister-in-law, cool niece and one of their favorite family friends
• The trails of Woodstock VT to go camping with AWESOME college friends including my beautiful dancer girlfriend Melissa from Brooklyn

After reassuring Son #2 that the bears in these parts were vegetarian, we all kicked back and relaxed.

Among the many festivities, we enjoyed (?) a pancake breakfast at the American Legion in Warren NH, went nuts with boxes and boxes of sparklers from the in-laws, relaxed by the bonfires, watched movies outside on a giant screen tacked to Bill’s barn, dined alfresco surrounded by tiki torches, enjoyed fresh mojitos and champagne, played croquet, hiked, swam in Silver Lake VT, shopped in Woodstock, and – best of all – just hung out with friends.

My friend Bill and his wife Elizabeth would make Martha Stewart proud. Their farmhouse is beautifully decorated, their meals (spicy shrimp, smoked ribs, fresh berries, oatmeal cookies) were better than the food served in the best restaurants (hence the boys’ moniker “delish kabobs”), their baby boy (Alistair) was just gorgeous, and – even though they have entertaining down to a science – there was no pressure whatsoever. The entire weekend was unbelievably low key. And Bill took the kids under his wing to play wiffle ball and later encouraged Son #1 to be his sous chef which made him beam (and buy a VT cookbook for himself the next day).

The two comments that sealed the weekend for me were:

Son #1: “I want to come back next weekend”

Son #2: “I don’t ever want to leave”

If only the drive wasn’t so painfully long!

OM Is Where the Heart Is

Son #1 enjoying the sunshine yesterday a.m.



He came home from VBS (i.e., vacation bible school) last night with a Bible verse from Matthew 19:26, "With God, all things are possible."

Son #1: Mama, do you believe that's true? Because I want to walk on water.

Sheesh! And I want to win the lottery!

The Superfluous N

My girlfriend Melinda snapped this photo for me a couple of years ago during an event for kids where they could climb on big trucks and heavy equipment.

This was printed on the side of a City of Rochester garbage truck. By "in progress," I think they meant spell check. I only wish I had a Sharpie with me that day (^n).

Proposed new City of Rochester tagline: We put the mental in enviromental. Oh gosh, is that politically incorrect? I'm aiming low once again. We put the "pain" in Campaign Eleven?

On an unrelated note, albeit to a lesser degree than the rapture, I'm definitely looking forward to "the renaissance" in two years. I like all things heralded by my trash hauler.