The Dreamsicle Ruminations

I loved Creamsicles, not to be confused with Dreamsicles. Personally, I can swing either way. One has ice creme and the other has ice milk over a orange sherbert shell. I was reading a health magazine and pointing out to a friend that "You know, no matter what you do you are gonna die."

His response was" You have the power to determine if you die sooner or later." And barring mad men and accidents that is true.

For the record, I am not advocating eating crap foods all day and all night. Veggies are essential. Water. Cut back on the sugar in all form. Be thoughtful in meat consumption.

You can plan for tasty and health. You can have Creamsicles without the yutz. This is Erika from a Little Insanity.





But really, we are gonna die. Before I go I will have another Creamsicle or a slice of Cherry pie.

I'm not proud but I'm ain't stupid either. The point of life is to live it.

How did I come to such a decision?

I met a woman who knew she was going to die. I spent some time with her teaching her to use the Internet. Often when I visited she would have a container of Ambrosia near her bed.

One day I read the ingredients, it was filled with sugar, artificial sweeteners, gunk and imitation marshmallows.

In my head I'm thinking "This mess will kill her."

In actuality, it was one of the few foods that she could eat without bring it back up. The woman did die but not from the pseudo Ambrosia.

Still, I'd be willing to list it as a minor contributing factor.

On a hot day with the sun beating down and life if good I see nothing wrong with my tongue and lips wrapped around the popsicle of my choice. Now some days that will be a 100% fruit ice bar. Or it could be shaved ice with some flavor on it.

One day I hope I could be that person that can take eat an olive and be completely satisfied. Behold, it would be enough and I would be in a state of grace.

Except that I am not that person and will never be that person. Ice on the tongue. The smile of lemon blossoms in the air. The patterns of clouds in the sky. Sucking on some sherbert.

Maybe it is how and what we decide to consume. I will give it more thought.

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Memories Eating Below the Line

This past week there has been various folks participating in a campaign called Live Below the Line to bring awareness to living on $1.50 a day.

The goal is to experience what it is like to ration your money to buy food. Not good food, not healthy food.

Just food. 

I feel somewhat detached. Now anything that will help a child get near nutrition needs is okay with me. It is just that...well, I remember being a kid in that situation.

And because I remember I don't think the people trying to live on $1.50 a day for five days really get what is going on. What a life can be like and what decisions go into your head when you don't have enough to make it from one meal to the next.

Yes, it is one thing to say you are spending $1.50 a day when you have shelves full of spices, seasonings and pantry food.

If folks really took it seriously then when they went to the store they would find out about limited choices. Nutrition is not one of them. You can't do $1.50 at Whole Foods; well maybe if you are feeding yourself and you buy an eight of an ounce of beans and a quarter-pound of rice.

Nope, you need to go to the broke folks food store and work the numbers. They are not in your favor.

Childhood Eating Memories

As a kid I've eaten dinner when there was nothing in the house to but a half box of oatmeal and hot water going on day three of it.

Or rushing to nab the hot dog and a portion of a can of beans before one of your brothers snatches an extra one for himself. No time for slackers at a limited food table.

How about when you are handed a $5 bill and you are a told to go to the supermarket to get something for dinner for six people and you are expected to bring change back home. I had a lot of experience with that scenario. 

For the record, I usually stuck with the cheapest pasta and imitation Ragu type tomato sauce I could buy.

Or it could have been a loaf of bread and ground beef. With some of the butchers in the old neighborhood there wasn't that much beef in it. Plenty of gizzards though.

Notice I didn't mention veggies or organic choices or unprocessed meats. They were not affordable options. Potatoes if they were on sale; maybe.

It Isn't Just About The Food. 

It is also watching television and seeing all this food you do not have access to. It is being reminded that you don't have the right to a whole range of foods, taste and experiences. 

It is watching Julia Child on television and watching her make a wonderful meal and not connecting to the reality that some people really do eat that well.

I'm glad I watched her show because it inspired me to want to taste new things. Yet there was a disconnect. I remember being that kid biting into a chicken bone to get at the marrow (chicken use to have marrow in their bones back then) while she was making Coq au Vin.

I and many other kids had no breakfast.  Or it might be that lunch was the meal of the day. Depended on how the day went for the parents; if there was day work, temp work or any kind of work. 

It isn't about the food as much as it is about infrastructure and what do we expect grown people to do when they can't be crowbared into programing, technology or service jobs?

How do you make a living?

How do you take care of the family if you have no money?

How do we keep pretending that we can turn a whole society back to pre-industrial wages and have no clue that we are hip deep into the future?

I don't know.

I do know I was doing a bit of disassociation when I saw tweets about the campaign. It is the kind of hunger you just don't forget. Or want to remember.

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I Know What A Rutabaga Is Dang It!

I am encountering people perceiving me as less than competent when my grey hair is exposed.

That I am no spring chicken.
That I am nearing my expiration date in terms of my opinions and social relevance.
That I am out of shape and it is too late to do anything about it.
That I have instantly become daft.

I was in the supermarket. I bought rutabagas.  Not turnips.

At checkout, the young man is looking up the vegetable he can enter the right code. I tell him it is a rutabaga.

"No, it is a turnip."

"It is a rutabega," I repeat.

"No, it's a turnip."

Now I could have stood in a busy supermarket arguing the point but I have learned that there are certain things your should not fight to the end of the line.

I could have yanked his behind over to the vegetable section where someone had put a sign that said rutabegas. I could have pulled out my smartphone and spent five minutes searching for a mobile photo of a rutabega.

No, I let the boy child ring it up as he pleased.

Let the record show that I know my vegetables and I did indeed buy a yellow rutabega.

Yes, I know that in some parts of the country both items are called the same things.

Not the point.

He judged the vegetable by the purple banding.
They are not quite the same, rutabages have a very strong taste.

We judge people by the externals.

This is not right.

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Long Journey From Dreamland

I've been away from my blog. I caught a wicked flu and that sucker wouldn't let me go. The concept of being sick is not easy for me. For some reason I want to do things and be productive.  This is incompatible with being sick.

This last flu had me in bed for two solid days. I had no choice but to rest and sleep. I was cooking chicken dinners for people, riding in fighter planes and my usual intergalactic adventures.

It was surreal.

I'd have these active dreams then I would wake up sneezing up a storm, coughing and what not only to fall back asleep to another adventure.

Two full days of it and it was exhausting in both realms. This is when you need a good movie to try to put the breaks the dreams but I kept falling into dreamland. There was this 1930ish movie about the future where the two lead actors were pining over wanting old fashion girls.

By the time my subconscious had wrapped itself around the movie I had taken over the planet and declared free love for all.

I'm better now. Except that once again this morning I woke up from a dream where I was serving broiled chicken on demand to friends and strangers.

I have no idea what to make of it.

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Shaved Ice Cream Is a Mighty Good Thing

I wanted to walk. I got a chance at the October CicLaVia. I started in Chinatown, then past the courthouse and the new Grand Park across from City Hall.

 

At the Los Angeles Times building there were food trucks. I have learned to at least inspect them to see if it is the real deal or is somebody trying to push foo-foo food on me.

I wasn't supposed to go near those trucks in the first place. Trying to cut back on carbs and the lard of the land.

Over yonder was a truck that had something to do with shaved ice. Now I was raised a water ice girl, which is not the same thing. It is better. But I was far away from getting any rum raisin water ice anytime soon so you gotta go with the flow.

I was dehydrated. Which is why I ordered a stawberry, coconut and mango shaved ice concoction with a base of vanilla ice creme.

I ordered the small one but I got a huge ice cone of wonderment. I rested my body along side of the Times building and just slurped. It was hot, the bikes were bressing by and all was right with the world.

I walked around the corner I found a ledge I could sit on and continued to suck and slurp. I was indeed orally fixated.

There was a bike in the shape of a motorcycle. Then a  old rattly one just out of the garage. Expensive gear that must have cost a good $500 to start.

There were the sound of bikes. But it was also quiet. Peaceful.

You don't get that often in a big city. You have to work on it.

The above photo was when I was just about to break though to the ice creme level. I figured I should have something to show for my pleasure. It was small enough by that point that I could place it on the ledge to take the photo.

Shortly after the photo was taken there was nothing more to slurp. I walked and walked and walked.

It was a good day for it.

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Choosing to Kick the Can

I did a lot of walking in New York City. The more I walked the more I missed home. This is a good thing because sometimes Los Angeles can get on your last nerve. You have to leave it to appreciate it. I missed the palm trees and the mountains.

Then again, you get to see things in a new light.

Once upon a time I used to drink soda like water. I know that I must have drank 10 to 15 cans a day. My mouth ran at light speed from all of the caffeine and sugar I was ingesting.

I was cranked up to maximum speed. Years later I went on a diet that totally cut out sugar. I had to go through a period of detox. Oh, my god was that tough. Headaches. Foggy thinking. Hostility.

When I got to the other side of the detox there was mental clarity. I dropped a lot of weight. My skin was perfect. I eventually slipped out of that diet but I never went back to that much soda ingestion.

Independent of the bottling company's intentions, I have a problem with any governmental body telling folks what they can and can't do with their bodies.There has to be a compelling, life threatening. and cost to society reason for the restriction of food products.

I get it. The cost of treating illness compounded with obesity issues does impact health care costs. We do eat way too much sugar, both visible and hidden. The costs are staggering.

I'm just not sure that banning the amount of consumption is the way to go about it. I have a feeling there will be 3 liter soda bottle smuggling from New Jersey.

I bring this up because here in California we have been seeing bus ads about the 22 teaspoons of sugar in a 20 ounce soda. One of the awareness web sites is the Kick The Can campaign.


There are other voices putting their two cents such as The Santa Clara County Public Health Department and Kaiser Permanente who are responsible for the video.

So what is my point? I think this has to be a personal decision and responsibility. Don't get me wrong. I do support what Mayor Bloomberg is trying to do; the health repercussion of internal obesity are serious.

Until each individual makes an informed decision about ingesting huge amounts of sugar and psuedo-sugars I don't think that you can have a long term lasting dietary change.

The money invested in ad campaigns making sure we remain un-healthy is staggering. Soda consumption advertising taps into our primal connections with community, social life and who we think we are.  Except that we are not runners, high jumpers or always walking on the beach with our loved ones.

Our desire to change must be real and committed. That has to go beyond legislation.

When folks said they didn't want high fructose corn syrup in their food products the industry changed and provided alternative non-HFCs products.  I think the same can happen when there are alternatives to super sugar drinks. I don't mean the diet stuff either.

So if you want to be healthier cut back on the sugar drinks. Or not. But don't leave it to the beverage companies or anyone else to make that decision for you. You are the one that has to live with it.

Looking down at my thighs I got some inner reflection to do as well.

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Knowing Is Half the Battle and So Is Laughter

Last night I was checking the YouTube to see if there was any goodies I had missed. I glance at the right of the screen. The man was crafted skin tight. Nice looking fella but I couldn't take my eyes off of Mike's chest.

You know, on the list of things I have to develop, my chest area is not one of them.  One night you are able to sleep flat on the sheet. A week later you have bumps. That grow and grow and I really had no say in the matter.

This video is nine minutes of a man working hard for his body.



I can see his abdominal muscles. I count four but I can see the other two under his pectorals.

You know, it is a pleasure to watch a guy work out. It is not necessarily sexual. It could be if my hormones were at high tide. I'm posting it so that when my hormones flow upward again I don't have to hunt for this video. This is called being pro-active.

I'm looking at the aesthetics of him lifting up those weight.  Dude is kinda cute tho.

YouTube seems to think that I need a shape up. How they knew about my visit to my doctor is beyond me. This is like a re-enforced guilty reminder of something, I don't know what.

I do know that I will never be sleek. I have curves. I am rounded. For heath reasons I need to drop a few pounds but I am designed for puffyness.

So I am taking the pledge to eat more veggies this week. Not lettuce. Full green and orange veggies. Because I want to.

And I will walk more. 

And not let the societal pressures of having a perfect body get me down.

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A Moment to Laugh Freely

We use to have fun. You know? We use to laugh freely and didn't care what anybody thought. When I look at this video I remember when I was this open and ready to laugh and just enjoy the moment.



It isn't about the erotic cookies. To me, it is about being engage in work that make you happy.

We have creaky old hypocritical men trying to dictate what we can do with our bodies. Trying to re-introduce shame. This is a video by Philip Campbell for the Montreal Gazette.


Let's not help them do that. Let's laugh in their sad faces and find joy, how ever you define it. But if you want to kick it with Roscoe Palmer that is okay by me.
No shame. A bit of peak a boo but more "oo la la".

Mainly I just wanted to share her laughter.

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Lessons Part 2 - Learning That We Mirror Each Other

People are nosy. I am a people, therefore, I am nosy.

I try to control it but there are times when you just have to pay attention to other people’s business. I did not want to but I really had no choice.

Every once in a while I’ll buy a burrito from Chipotle.  I was standing in line and the person ordering before me put in her order for three burritos.

Like a drill sergeant she commanded what she wanted. Sarg wanted everything. She wanted extra of everything. Except for what she did not want.

I could see trouble coming.

When it came time to fold the burrito the laws of mass and space kicked in. The tortilla ripped a gash. Food started oozing like a scene from The Blob.

The server tried to move the heaping mass to another tortilla. Sarg became irate:

“That looks like garbage. Something you would feed a pig. I’m not a pig. Start over!”

I'm looking at Sarg.

No comment.

The food was thrown away. The server started again. Sarg told the server what she wanted extra again except for what she did not want.

I don’t know how it was possible but this time the burrito was constructed. Then the whole thing had to be done for the other two burritos she ordered.

My Turn

I was hungry. Yet a sense of culinary moderation flowed from within. I modified my order:

• Carne Asada
• No Beans
• Rice
• Corn
• Pepper/Onions
• Avocado

I bring it home and eat it. All of it. I am stuffed for the next four hours.

A few days later I watch the documentary Fat, Sick, and Nearly Dead about this guy’s having a fruit and vegetable juicing fast as he interviews people across the country.



I don’t make it half way though the movie without swearing I’m gonna get a juicer.

I’ve checked out the high toned ones. They are very expensive. It will be awhile. In the meantime, I’m drinking water instead of soda and eating more veggies. Truth is, I am surrounded by temptation. And boredom. And other stuff too.  I’m stripping it away step by step.

My body agrees with making some kind of change. Sarg is still on my mind. I can’t seem to let that movie go until I do something. This is the back side of being nosy.
 
So, yeah. There are times when being silently, acutely observant of other people’s behavior is kinda sorta ok.

But not really.

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Re-invention and Change - The White Hut

I needed down time. I have gotten up at 4 a.m. to write or cobble together items of interest for my blogs and others. I want to create and do things but I was force to realize that I need x amount of sleep and nutrition.

When one or both get out of balance I am not a happy camper.There is other stuff happening that I can't discuss but that life balance thing is kicking me into submission.  I got to find writing time that does not involve the pre-dawn hours.

This is a project I've been wanting to finish for chunk of time. I want to mix essays with video. This will not look that different from my other work but my goal today was to post a video.

The Whit Hut was a mom and pop restaurant in the Pasadena area. It closed in September 2011 and word has it that a new organic coffee house will be built. I'm sure that the new joint will not be serving up fat laced Pastrami on Rye. 


Part Two

I have to step back and think about what do I want to do. I want to re-claim a bit of my creative writing. I want to really get better working with video. I need a new career but I think what I want to do hasn't been invented yet so I have to pave my own path.

Not a bad idea but it can make a person nervous. Can you re-invent yourself again and again and again?

Yes. You can. It is not easy but I'd rather give it a go than to be among the walking dead.

That is not a zombie reference.

There are people that do the same thing day in and day out because it is safe. No deviation. No curiosity about what went before or what is to come. No hobbies. No vices.  No challenges. No goals.

Nothing. They live. The eat. They work. They sleep. It is enough for them.

Now if you are in any form of recovery and you aspire to this type of life go for it. I'm not talking about you. You have already lived a bit and you need routine and stability. Carry on and work your program.

For me, I want more. I want to access the untapped parts of my potential. I can't mess around, I'm coming up on another birthday in a few months and I want something to show for it.

I thought that 2011 was going to be a quiet year and that sucker did everything in its power to prove me wrong.  I might need a combat helmet for 2012.

Right now, it is a beautiful day and I have time for a nap, if I want one.

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Being Myself Is Hard Work

Somebody has to do it and I guess it is up to me. But the mail that gets stuffed in my mail box is disheartening.




One ad to lose weight. Another for Dish TV. Two ads for Pollo Loco. More ads for losing weight. As near as I can figure it I'm supposed to sit at home all day watching TV and not eating anything.

This is my Day 2 video for International Videobloging Posting Month aka Vlomo2011.

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Yes, There Was Chocolate

I feel like that rabbit from Alice In Wonderland. Running here, late there and mumbling to myself.

I have video but I don't have time to edit just yet. My beloved computer is one foot from the grave and I can't make a decision on the replacement. It is a very personal thing. It has to be just right.

So does chocolate and access to it. Which is why I went to the Los Angeles Luxury Chocolate Salon that was held in Pasadena.

This was the fifth salon and my second one that I have attended. So many people! Seriously. Not near enough space for the chocoholics; of which there were many.

Special shout out to all the excellent chocomakers who participated and sliced, diced and gave to the teeming masses of humanity that flowed by their tables.

I'll have more later but I'm still in recovery from that most excellent choco-chilli morsel that lit up my mouth with a living incarnation of the pleasure/pain principle.

In the meantime, if you want to see some of the folks that presented at the festivities you can catch a glimpse at Chocolate Television on Hulu.

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I'm Still Here Thinking That You're Not Gone

Yep. I didn't make the cut. Apparently nobody else did either so I'm kinda sad about that. Really.

There was a whole bunch of people I had hoped that would be removed from the planet in a holding place until it could be explained to them that the concept of Agape or universal love was the goal and not the ranking of "I'm more holy than you."

Come to think of it, if members of that noxious Westboro Baptist Church gets to go to heaven then I don't think I want to go.

Speaking of not going, this is a video I recorded with Rick Hodge who has a book called 2011 Our Destiny Has Arrived.



Folks, no worries until December 12, 2012. That is 12/12/12 aka the Age of the Fifth Sun.

Part 2

I heard a son call his father to check in on him.

"You still here Pop?, yeah, me too."

I think the rest of us want to say that you can't escape life through false prophets who profit on fear. Spirit doesn't operate that way.

Even if you are an Atheist one thing is clear, either you live your life or your don't. It is a choice and praying for your spiritual removal en mass I think violates that freedom of spiritual choice thing.

In other words, I don't think you can make Spirit/God/Jesus do anything. And if we could why would we so willing to commission other people's souls to damnation? Why would you follow a being that tells you to do that?

Last word on the (non) rapture. A special shout out has got to the RaptureHelpDesk. Best dang use of Twitter for humor that I have ever seen. I look forward to October 21, 2011 cuz it is going to be hard to top these tweets. Cracked me up.

Part 3

Yesterday I paid $4.50 for maybe a scoop and a half of Gelato. It was Stratachoco... something but it was good. Dark chocolate laced into vanilla ice cream. This is counter to my normally frugal ways but I had seen the store for years and never went inside.

I liked it.

I am going to try to make it another eight years before I go back to that place. I will not pay $5 for a gallon of ice cream but I have to admit this stuff was tasty.

I should get around to making my bucket list so I can put luxury ice cream on it and then cross it off.

Well, this is just to check in. I'm trying to write another post, edit video, do laundry and possibly dye my hair. I guess this is justifiable procrastination. So much to do and see.

Not enough time.

Never enough time.

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My First Waffle Dog and a Bit of Waffle History

You might think that after a few weeks I'd scope out all the eating joints around the Salt mine. My fear of a dulled lunch was creeping in; I'd already settled on the quick and adequate lunch at Wolfbane Express.

It is not bad if you don't mind the constant up-selling of the three fang special. Just say no and wave the money before them. I didn't feel like the challenge so I went in search of something different.

I needed a culinary adventure. One that I could afford under $5. That is not easy when I'm in an area that has standard lunches at $9.

Then I saw it - Waffles.


Now to you waffles are not a big deal. As a kid I never had them until the refrigerated kind started showing up. By that time I'd seen a Julia Child show or two and I knew the real thing wasn't supposed to taste like cardboard.

I've since had Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles but it isn't good for me to think of places that are not accessible to me at lunch time. I'm thinking, what the heck - what is the harm?

So I amble up to the joint to check out the action. Real waffles. Waffles and ice cream, waffle sandwiches, waffle cheese sticks.

Then I saw it. A Nutella waffle sandwich. I am a recent convert to the order of Nutella. I went for it. And to be on the safe side I also got a Waffle Dog.

Took it back to the Salt mine where Miner #4056 was trying to read a book. He took one look at my Waffle Dog and looked at me with questions of mental health in his eyes.

I offered him a bite. Miner #4056 most emphatically refused. I start in on half of the Nutella and I'm a happy gal. Dude tries to go back to reading but that dog is bothering him.

I take the photo and I loose more sanity points with most of the lunch crowd. I don't care. I don't have a Waffle Dog every day.

I hose it up with ketchup and chomp away. It is ok. I should have gotten mustard. More waffle than hot dog but I like it. Not sure why. Hidden desires maybe. Not so hidden desires more like it.

The Smithsonian Music has a information page on the patent on the Waffle iron. I should say the electric Waffle iron on account that the non-electric iron has been cranking out the fluffy goodness for centuries. And for more about the history of waffles check out Historical Food.com

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I'm Learning to Cook with An Induction Burner

When my burner conked out on me I had to make find an alternative means of cooking food. I live in a small space so I really needed something compact and functional.

I do have a microwave someone gave me years ago. I've used it about 10 times in 8 years. Nothing wrong with it. I just don't like using it.

I've cooked with wood, gas, electricity and now induction. Still waiting on my gizmo to tell it what I want to eat and it makes it for me.



This is a video of a comparison between gas and induction cooking. I do like watching men cook. Having them speak French is a bonus.

Innovation, yeah I needed a dose of culinary innovation. I decided to get a small induction burner for under $100.

It does work. Maybe a little too well, I have burned a couple of dinners. It really cooks much faster than gas or electric. You have to remember to put it on the proper settings or things will get extra crispy fast.

There is the rub, I don't know the proper settings. I have learned not to start at 1300 watts. You gotta dial that bad boy back to 600 watts and work your way up if you need to.

Another thing is that you might have to shelve some of your cookware if it is not cast iron or stainless steel. I'm dogging the thrift stores for more cast iron pots but in the meantime I'm doing ok with what I have.

What I don't have is adaptive recipes. There was a mini recipe guide included with the burner but I've lost it. I can't find English language videos on how to cook with induction burners. I'm gonna have to dive into the UK and Europe blogs to figure out what I can do.

No, I don't speak French but so long as I can get to Google Translate I'll be fine.

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Being 52 - A Burger Desire

I like really good hamburgers. I'll reconstruct the burger to make it right. I don't want mustard. I can tolerate fresh lettuce. A real tomato or nothing. I want onion rings, not chips of onion.



Pickles are optional. There is nothing quite as nice as a single burger from In-N-Out. No cheese. No fries required. Just a $1.75 burger.

I have had the Vanilla Shake with a burger. Made with real ice cream. It is thick. You'll need a spoon. I try not to order that more than once a month. Moderation of desire I guess.

So this is not only my homage to In-N-Out but to the time honored practice of animating photos.

I have to. Dang video codec jacked me up again. Part of my Thanksgiving will be spent re-building my system and clean out the cooties.

Being 52 is knowing what you want and not being swayed by other desires. It is also being ready to pull a bunny out of a hat when you have to make it happen. Steady on.

This is my day 15 video for National Videoblogging Posting Month aka Vlomo10

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Being 52 - Willing to Experiement

Being 52 I don't like doing the same things the say way all of the time. I was thinking about the ruckus about the Twinkie diet experiment.

There are some people who are going to fantasize emulating eating Chocodiles for each and every meal. For the record, this is so not a good thing. Ok to fantasize but not ok to try.



Your body will rebel. So this is my attempt to try to make a video collage about that rapture of thinking about eating junk food and the rational behind it.

The good news is that I don't appear in the video. This is my day 10 video for #Vlomo10.

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Being 52 - Bag of Peanuts

For the record peanuts are a good and necessary food source unless you are allergic to the goobers. Speaking of goobers, this is my not so sneaky attempt to get use to writing prose and poetry again.



This isn't prose or poetry but it is a commentary riff on how age is sold for profit. This is also my Day 3 video for National Videoblogging Posting Month.

To watch other videos by creators from all over the planet zip over to Twitter, plug in the hastag #Vlomo10 and see what you can find.

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Chocolate Salon at Pasadena Civic Center

A room full of chocolate and a few dames. We're talking the good stuff. Cacao powered chocolate. Chocolate with spices, vodka or a fruit or two. This is a advertisement for the event. It is time once again for the L.A. Chocolate Salon.



I went to the event a few years back. I had never been surrounded by chocoholics before. It was amazing; women were calling their friends giving reports on various confections they just tasked.

I was planning on going but something came up and I yield the floor to a chocophile that can take up the slack.

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A Heck of A Town - Pre-BlogHer

The trip was a trip. It started at 3:30a.m. with a ride to an empty airport. I didn't know that the airport opened at 5:30a.m.

The only pick-up time was 3:30a.m. I wasn't alone but it was spooky.

On the plane there were two crying babies and two yappy dogs. The dogs barked the first hour or so then it was ok for a bit. Then the last 45 minutes the babies kicked in a few notes.

I gotta say with Direct TV is wasn't so bad.

The trip into town was tough. I don't eat before a flight. I was hungry. I saw every food joint as we passed by. I damn near wanted to beg the driver to stop at Chipotle's. Got to the hotel and started looking for food.

Pizza called my name; I inhaled that sucker. I was so hungry I forgot that I can't have a lot of cheese.

My stomach reminded me this morning. I took the walking cure - so many great places in my immediate area, The Center of Photography, art places up the ying-ying and a special shout out to the New York Public Library who helped me get on-line and find stuff.

Much to do, will keep you posted.

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