Bella Italia

My parents and the dog came for a visit this weekend to go see the Philadelphia Flower Show. This year, the theme is "Bella Italia" and bella is the perfect word to describe what we saw.

Another word to describe it would be overcrowded, but I guess that's to be expected when you go on opening day. Anyhow, I got to test out the new camera and am pretty pleased with the way some of my shots came out. Keep in mind, I'm just graduating from a Spiderman disposable .....

What would an Italian themed flower show be without a pizza made from flowers?

Lots of displays with a fashion theme

I'm a freak for orange and warm lighting, so naturally this caught my eye.

I loved this centerpiece because it was made mostly with vegetables. Not that I'm a big vegetable freak, but it was pretty and unusual.





A display of purses

I took about a zillion pictures of this fashion display. They had dresses, hats (you can kinda see some of them to the right), shoes and purses. Simply stunning.

Made from leaves and vines. (My hair looks like this when it's windy out.)

Outdoor dining space. ahhhh

I have no idea what exactly this is, but it looked very cool. All of the stems were resting in water bottles.

The Atlantis display. Lots of mermaids and this guy.

This big gondola exhibit was in a display near the entrance. Beautiful, but the best was yet to come.

Lovely.

This is my favorite pic. The colors make me want to do the worm across the floor.



After I took this, a lady standing behind me commented on how beautiful my picture turned out. I think she may have been right.

Using a Bazooka to Kill a Mosquito

Were you ever around someone who uses a particular word constantly, and once you take notice it just annoys the hell out of you?

Well, I've noticed a few buzzwords and phrases in the working world that I want to run over with my car. They've sprained my ears, blurred my vision and caused silent rage.

Here are my top 5 offenders:

• "From a global perspective" = Nails on a chalkboard. It just sounds so lofty and ridiculous. Can we please come up with another way of relating the concepts of "big picture" or "overall?"
• Utilize - this word should be banned from the English language. There's no need for it. "Use" means exactly the same thing, and it takes up less space and less time.
• Components - This is frequently used to describe any parts of a greater whole. For example, instead of saying "we'll have talk about that topic later", someone might say "we'll have to address that component offline."
• And speaking of "offline" ... let's not speak of it. Anymore.
• Do you have a copy of the document? - Document is used to refer to any piece of paper .... and agenda, a memo, and chart, etc. Why can't you just call it what it is? (OK, not YOU personally .... but think of the word YOU from a more "global perspective" .... ack!) Because saying "send me the document" sounds better than "send me the agenda?" I don't know, but people love to refer to anything as a document. Personally, I'm a fan of specificity.

And here's a bonus extra: "Let's identify the disconnects." This is a combo offender. I probably hear the word "identify" about 300 times a day. It's the same as "find" or "figure out." And "disconnects" is a big way of saying problems, screw-ups, issues, etc.

I had a boss a few years ago that was particularly creative in his use of metaphor and non-traditional business communication. I miss that guy. Not only did I learn alot from observing and working with him, but he was easy to listen to and kept things interesting. One of my favorites was a line he said when telling somebody they were overdoing something -- "you don't need to build a space shuttle to get a glass of Tang." Pretty good, eh?

Inspired by his creativity, I told somebody the other day they were "using a bazooka to kill a mosquito."

Spring, Where Are You?

I really hate those periods of time when it seems like death is looming in the air and lurking around every corner. Unfortunately, this seems to be one of those times. It makes the air feel heavy, like a mid-August day that's 105 degrees with 98% humidity.

Within the span of a week, I'll will attend a second funeral. The first was for the father of my dear friend, Linda. Although I didn't know him, I care very much about her and her family. I didn't know what to do other than show up and say I'm sorry. I sent flowers, which I rarely ever do, because they're sad flowers and smell like death. Not sure why, but for some reason I felt like sending flowers this time -- hopefully they cheered her up a little bit.

This Friday, I'll pay respects for a man from my neighborhood who lost his bout with the lung cancer that had travelled throughout his body. Tony was a very good, decent man -- the kind of person that humbled me just because of the kind of human he was. He was quiet, a veteran, and a true gentleman. I'll miss him, and it's sad to know there's one less good guy on the planet.

Others are sick, and I pray for them to be well. Sometimes I'm not sure anyone is anyone is listening, but just in case I say prayers anyway.

The news, on any given night, seems to leave me shaking my head in disbelief. The headline story is either a senseless murder or another nail in the coffin of our financial system. I know a bad economy isn't the same as losing a loved one, but even if you're not on the brink of financial ruin, it IS depressing to hear nothing but bad news day after day. Especially when people around you are sick and dying.

Anyway, I kept the prayer card from Linda's father's funeral service. The words were neither biblical verse nor traditional, eloquent poetry. Instead, it was the simplicity of the message that stuck with me:

When I am dead, cry for me a little.
Think of me sometimes, but not too much.
It is not good for you, or your wife, or your husband, or your children to allow your thoughts to dwell too long on the dead.
Think of me now and again as I was in life at some moment which it is pleasant to recall.
But not too long.
Leave me in peace as I shall leave you, too, in peace.
While you live, let your thoughts be with the living.


And so I will remember lost friends and loved ones, but I'll focus my energy on loving and cherishing those who are here. Focus on being a better daughter, sister, friend, colleague, person, neighbor, citizen, driver, pinao-player, blogger ... whatever. I can't control the ebb and flow of life and death. I can only control what I contribute, and since I'm not particularly happy with my contributions LTD (life-to-date), I'll work on stepping things up a notch or two.

I'm so thankful that spring is around the corner. Oh Spring, I hope you're around the corner! It's time for you to replace cold, grey, death with your sunshine, life, hope, and warmth.

Maybe I'm totally delusional to hang my hopes of renewed energy and spririt on a flip of the calendar page, but I don't care. Sometimes delusional is fun, and sometimes it's not fun but if it gets me through the lumps, then I'll take a Delusional Super-Sized to go, please.

I'd Like to Give the Academy a Big Razzie

I hereby nominate the Academy Awards show for a Razzie Award. Those are the awards that acknowledge the worst of Hollywood each year. And this show, I'm here to tell you, is one of the worst things I've ever seen.

In all fairness, I haven't watched the entire thing. It's too unbearable, so I've been surfing for the last 2 hours. In 2 hours, I've yet to see one award presented. I've seen comedy sketches, tributes, singing and dancing (which I love, don't get me wrong) ..... but not one award. (Note: Since I wrote that an hour ago, I recently saw Heath Ledger's family accept his award, and a couple of others.)

My point being, most of the show is a big pile of poop and the whole thing could be done faster than one of you-know-who's famous 30-minute meals.

Here are some other Razzie's I'd like to give for worst of Hollywood:

• Brangelina -- A cheater and a homewrecker, no matter how hot they are and how many kids they adopt.
• Robin Williams -- Eternally Mork and one of the most un-funny people EVER. I did like a few of his more serious movies, such as Awakenings and Good Will Hunting.
• Michael Moore & his movies -- I can't stand this guy. He's a self-righteous asshole that takes one side of a story and distorts it so far out of proportion I can only equate his movies to fun-house mirrors.
• Cloris Leachman -- Please don't ever be on TV again. You stunk on Dancing With the Stars.
• Paul Shaffer & the CBS Orchestra -- I know you're in New York, not Hollywood, but you get a Razzie from me for the annoying and stale riffs you play to introduce Dave's various sketches. They all sound exactly the same and end with a squealing trumpet. You're too talented to play the same thing every night.
• Computerized visual effects that have taken over every movie, commercial, and show. Nothing even comes close to looking real anymore. Are stuntmen even needed?
• The Curious Case of Benjamin Button -- I'll never see this movie because a.) the premise is stupid (it's a serious "Mork From Ork" for the big screen); and b.) Brad Pitt is a terrible actor; c.) that's a dumb name for a movie.
• Rachel Ray -- You get a Razzie from me for talking like a 3-year old and never shutting up.
• Any TV station that has annoying pop-ups that take up half the screen in the middle of a show.

OK, that's just the quick list. Maybe tomorrow I'll focus on stuff I like from Hollywood. I feel like I've been bitching a lot lately.

My Inner Angus Young

Yesterday driving into the parking lot at work I broke one of my own rules -- don't blast music so loud everybody can hear it. Any other time it's okay, but it's not okay to pull up in the work lot with the volume up so high it can be heard through the car windows.

This rule was born a few years ago when I pulled up in my spot rapping along with Eminem to his "Controversy" song. Someone lurking in the spot across from me watched and listened to my best Eminem singalong as I checked my hair and make-up. Let's just say, the guy could rightfully question whether I know the difference between a tube of lipstick and a microphone. No, I couldn't just sing along ... I had to have dance moves, a microphone, facial expressions .... the whole nine yards. How embarrassing.

So after that day, I swore I'd keep a lid on it once I hit the work parking lot.

But yesterday morning, I was flipping the dial and ran across an old favorite -- AC/DCs "Back in Black." I've always loved this song, and it conjured up my inner 80s, head-banging, guitar hero. By all rights, I should've had to open the sunroof to let some of the noise out, but it was great ... even before 8am.

Can you imagine what all of the Dilbert's sitting in their cubicles looking into the parking lot would've thought if they'd seen a girl in her work duds doing Angus Young's famous one-legged hop across the parking lot, complete with air guitar and head-banging? That's what I wanted to do. Then I would've smashed my air guitar against my office door and set off some fireworks to close the show.

Instead I settled for the driver's seat rendition ... head-bobbing and scream-singing.

You Can't Be Sirius

Personally, I think satellite radio is a big huge ripoff. Why pay for radio when you can get it free? I ended up with XM because it came with my car, and then I was able to continue for a year for $15.

I know, I know .... XM/Sirius doesn't have commercials and they have Howard Stern (like anyone cares anymore) and they play a bigger variety (translate: stuff no one has ever heard before, probably for a reason). Oh, and you can get the stations anywhere. I guess that might be nice if you live or drive alot in the middle of nowhere.

So, tonight on the way home from work I decided I want my $15 back. I heard the most awful song -- yes, even worse than Susudio and Mambo Number 5! It was called "Smack My Bitch Up." It sounded like a combo of 3 things: someone farting into a microphone, banging cymbals and screaming "Smackmybitchup!" The song may be new or it may be 20 years old ... I have no idea. But it was terrible. In fact, it was also worse than the song that was on before it ... Taco's "Puttin' On the Ritz."

No wonder XM's stock is 10 cents a share .... and plummeting.

Setting the Record Straight

Way back in the olden days of 10th grade, my English teacher Mrs. Ohlsson accused me of cheating on our final exam. She was also the drama teacher, and had a reputation for being bitchy, moody, a little crazy and weird. Sounds par for the course for a drama teacher.

Up until this point, I actually kinda liked her. I could identify with bitchy, moody, crazy and weird. She didn't fit the mold of the other teachers and I didn't fit the mold of other students. . She wore big crazy scarves, and shoes that resembled those we all saw adorning the feet of the witch squashed by Dorothy's house. She wasn't the typical teacher shopping at Talbots -- perhaps she got some salvage from the costume rooom? I don't know. She was an odd combination of 80s-gypsy-Fame-wicked witch. Whatever that is.

So I liked this strange character, and I actually learned from her. She taught me a lot about writing for your audience and with a purpose. (Although it may seem, as you read this, that those lessons fell on deaf ears.) Honestly, she did her job so I guess overall the good outweighed the bad. But, I still haven't forgotten that she accused me of something I didn't do, and I'm not sure what reminded me of this, but decided to spend a minute setting the record straight.

The day before the test, she gave us the essay questions that would appear on the test. We'd have to pick one or two, and write. Simple enough. My brain churned, planning the whole essay in my head so I wouldn't be stuck with writer's block during the test. I did this kind of thing in college too ... preparing and researching without ever writing a thing until I knew what I'd write. Then in one fell swoop I'd bang out my 40 page term paper in 2 hours. The rest of the time I would spend editing. I always found editing to be most time-consuming.

So anyway, I'd prepared in my head and the next day took the test. Once the test started, I quickly tore a piece of paper out of my blue book, and downloaded my planned essay from my brain to the scrap paper. I edited, then when I was satisfied with my essay I copied it into my blue book and turned in my test.

Later at home, I answered the phone and it was Mrs. Ohlsson asking to speak to my mother. My mom picked up on another phone, but I lurked. Apparenty, I dropped the scrap paper with my draft essay on the ground and Mrs. Ohlsson found it.I remember feeling all of the blood rush out of my head and waves of anger running through my body as I heard her tell my mother "I'm sorry to tell you that Lisa cheated on her English exam." My mother was still asking questions when I hung up, sitting completely stunned in our kitchen, contemplating how this woman could possibly think I'd actually cheat.

I had NOT cheated on my test. In fact, I never cheated on a test my entire life. I never cared more about my test grade than the consequences of getting caught. First, it would draw attention to me (my worst fear in my high school years). Second, and maybe worse --- it would go on my Permanent Record. Yes, I was successfully brainwashed into believing all humans have a Permanent Record where every transgression is documented, following you on job interviews, dates, and everything ... for the rest of your life.

Over the next day or so, Mrs. Ohlsson gave me an "opportunity" to explain, but refused to believe me. She had no proof, but neither did I. My parents have never been the kind of people who refused to believe their little baby Disco Bubbles was infallible, but in this instance they stood by me.

All said and done, I was docked 2 letter grades for the (non)incident -- so I got a "C" on my essay. Bitch. I never forgot about that. Aside from accusing me of something I didn't do, I was equally bothered by the fact that she couldn't get her big crazy blonde head around the fact that I might actually be smart enough to have studied, planned and done a good job.