Random Opinings

The Emperor has no Clothes: Fat is a Fashion Statement

2010-09-01T20:24:00.000-07:00

This is a letter to all the people out there trying to dress as fashionably as the next person:

1. To the men and boys: Nobody wants to see your underwear. I know you think it looks cool, but you're wrong. One day I will likely give in to my impulses. The question is, which impulse will I follow? If you're lucky, I'll yank your pants UP. If you're lucky.

That was easy. Now it's time to deal with the rest of the population.

2. To the women and girls: Nobody wants to see your fat hanging out from over your waistband. It's gross. GET A MIRROR, AND USE IT, PLEASE!!! And don't assume that just because your shirt is long enough that we don't see the fat. Granted, its a bit less gross, but we can still see it, right through the clingy shirt.

3. Also to the women and girls: A bra is not a fashion accessory. It is a support garment. If you decide to wear a shirt with a narrow back, then please match the bra straps. Ditto for a halter top. You may think you look super sexy. Perhaps you even used that mirror. But the view of the straps from the back ruins the entire look.

4. Finally, and also to the women and girls: Low-rise pants may be comfortable, but they are NOT figure flattering. Everybody has a muffin-top when wearing them. Please lengthen your shirts accordingly. To put it plainly, when you are wearing low-rise pants and a shirt that ends just before the pants begin, you look fat. All of you do. Look in the mirror, and look around you. YOU. LOOK. FAT. Yes, yes, when you raise your arms over your head, you look skinny. But here's the secret: so do I.

Thanks Ever So Much!

2010-06-27T20:23:00.000-07:00

Dear People Who Used to Own our House,

As you probably know, we bought your house from you without even seeing it first. Oh, yes, we saw pictures, and fell in love with it. The paint on the walls is all the colors and styles that I love, but am afraid to try. Excellent choices, all, in my opinion. I'm even learning to appreciate brown a bit more.

I just wanted to write and thank you for all the things you left behind for us to enjoy. Our dog, Bella, has been having an absolute blast chewing up all the whiffle balls and other toys you left under the deck and around the back yard. Our son, Joseph, has been having an equally great time picking up all the little pieces of plastic that Bella leaves behind after her chewing.

The garage full of old clothes and toys was a nice surprise. We got to make one trip to Deseret Industries, and another to the dump just so we could fit some of our stuff in there. It must be noted, however, that the garage stuff wasn't actually an entire load for the dump. But that's ok, since you left a whole lot of trash outside for us to add to the junk in the garage. So no worries.

The other day, I had a clogged toilet, and was glad to remember that you had left us a plunger. What a help! It tided us over until I could go to the store and buy one that wasn't cracked through. I really appreciate that.

I think my favorite inheritance, though, is the trampoline. What joy! It's been great to watch my son trying to bounce up, and instead sink down to the ground. My brother and nephew were especially excited to be able to take a day to pry it apart and haul it to the dump. Good times. Maybe next time they're in town they'll have a party clearing all the trash and toys out of the window wells.

All in all, its been a joyous experience finishing your move out so that we could actually move in and make the place our own. And, best of all, you didn't tell us that the deck was sinking, that you'd had it raised once already, and it needs it again. Its like Christmas over here, with all the surprises!

Thanks again for everything,
Coleen

PS The joke's on you with the hot tub, though--it was totally repairable. We'll think of you fondly this coming winter while we're enjoying this inadvertent gift!

Lions and Leopards and Mud, Oh My!

2009-12-31T00:21:00.000-08:00

We just returned from a wonderful safari. It was an amazing experience, and the last safari we will be able to go on here in Africa.

We left Monday morning from the airport on a mid-size plane. Our in-flight meal was mints. There were no drinks served. The flight lasted all of 45 minutes, including the two stops before ours.

We were booked into the Mara Siria luxury tented bush camp. The three boys were put into one family tent. By family they mean a king sized bed (two twins pushed together with a king-sized bedspread over them both) and one twin camp bed. They put Sam and I into another tent quite a fair distance from the boys. All the tents were advertised to have king sized beds, and in-tent bathrooms. Our tent contained 2 twin beds--not pushed together--and an outhouse tent beside an "outhouse" shower just outside the back of the tent. The toilet looked real enough, but concealed a hole in the ground. Needless to say, we were extremely disappointed. I told Sam that I just needed a few minutes to complain, and then I'd make the best of it. Gross!! Just as I finished my complaining, they came by and told us that they'd found another tent. This one was right next door to the boys tent, and was just like theirs, without the camp bed. It also had a shower and real flush toilet. Thank goodness.

We set out on our first game drive that afternoon. At the gate we were greeted by a young eland, avoiding the rain. Our driver, Hussein, told us that we could get out and touch it, so naturally we did. Joseph was great with it until it tried to gore him. Or at least that's what it seemed like. Then we piled back into the landcruiser and set off into the park.

Right off the bat we encountered the perfect African savanna scene, with zebras, giraffes, and various antelope together with some amazing scenery.

We drove on and quickly encountered a couple of young male lions just lazing around. After taking about a thousand snaps of them, we moved on. And then we just happened upon a cheetah. Not off in the distance, photoshop and crop so you can tell what it is, but a for real, right there, cheetah. Eating! It had just caught a reedbuck or bushbuck, and was happily munching away.

After the cheetah, we drove on and encountered elephants, more antelope--including Topi, which I'd never seen before, buffalo, warthog, and lots of birds and butterflies. One highlight was when we saw a large group of something that, from a distance, looked like groundhogs. Except that there aren't any groundhogs in Africa. Turns out, it was mongooses. So cool!

Our camp was located out in the bush, and has no fences. So after dark we couldn't be outside without an escort. When dinnertime arrived we went out to find our Masaai escort, who walked us to the dining room. We ate breakfast and lunch outside near the reception tent, and dinner was after dark both nights. I have no idea where the dining room was. We were escorted and, as it was dark, muddy, and rocky, I kept my eyes on the ground in front of my feet at all times. I only know that it was pretty far from our tents, and also pretty far from the reception tent. That's all I know. At dinner on night two we found a slug creeping along on the wall behind my chair. We told the waiter about it, and he basically said, "Wow, gross, there sure is," and went about his business. Clueless. Absolutely clueless.

On day two we took our lunches with us and went out for 8 hours. A l o o n g day. But also great. We found a rhino mother and baby fairly early in the day. It wasn't easy to photograph them, as they were in the bushes, but we managed. We then saw a hyena mother and baby, baboons, more elephants, a jackal, and more zebra, giraffe, and antelope.

And then we got to the river. Hippos, hippos everywhere! But no crocodiles. Apparently they stay underwater unless there's some sun out to warm them. Which there wasn't. We saw two hippos sparring, as well.

We moved further down the river and then the sun came out, and so did the crocs. Big ones! The biggest was probably 15 feet. So cool!

We spent the better part of the afternoon looking for the elusive leopard, the only one of the big five--buffalo, elephant, rhino, lion, and leopard--that we hadn't seen. But no luck.

A note about the weather. Rain, rain, rain! It tended to pour in the late afternoon, with bits of rain here and there through out the day and night. We were in a landcruiser with roll-up canvas sides, and it was a bit chilly. And the roads! Mud, mud, mud! We drove through mud, we drove through muddy water, we even forded a "river". It was incredible to see. I can't imagine what they'll be like when it all dries out.

We set out early on our last morning. Right away we encountered a pride of at least 11 lions. I say 11 because we saw ten of them, but not the alpha male. And every pride has one. These lions weren't just laying around, either. They were on the move. We followed. I'm sure that one reason that we spent so much time watching them is that they were essentially moving along the road--sometimes literally ON it--and Hussein didn't want to chance any encounters, given our measly canvas protection.

Again we spent much of the drive searching for a leopard. So frustrating! Finally, just 30 minutes before our flight departure, we found one! It was also moving, stalking a family of warthogs. We didn't get to follow it too far, though, because it was at precisely this moment that our landcruiser decided to get stuck. We were driving perpendicular to an underwater road, and the rear tires landed in a rut. And we couldn't get out of it. Naturally, nobody wanted to get out an push. We managed to rock our way out of the rut, everybody helping rock. We cheered! and then landed in the next rut. One other vehicle came to try and push us out, but as it could barely move itself, gave up. Serious rocking ensued, and we finally managed to break free. Fun, fun, fun!

The leopard hadn't gone too far, and we were able to find it again, and then follow its stalking progress. Finally it took off after the warthogs, but, alas, lost them. So cool to watch!

We made it to the airstrip in time, but only because the leopard had already charged. Otherwise, I think we may have all coughed up the money for another night and a different flight.

Our return flight was in a small plane that held 20 people, if you count the pilot and co-pilot. The co-pilot was also the flight attendant. He passed back the mints and told us that there was water in the back of the plane. And that was that.

All in all, it was an amazing experience. The one thing I absolutely wanted to see was the one thing that I hadn't seen thus far in Africa--a leopard. I managed, but only just. Talk about leaving things to the last minute!

Emeril at Age Nine

2009-11-15T10:41:00.000-08:00

I have a child who in interested in EVERYTHING. He loves science; wants to be an inventor. He is also an art lover. He could spend the entire day outdoors with his friends, if given the opportunity. Ditto in front of the television.

And he enjoys cooking.

In first grade he took cooking as an after school activity. He loved it. He is usually interested in helping with whatever meal is being cooked. As long, of course, as he is around to help and not absorbed with one of his other interests.

Today he decided to bake some muffins.

I opened and drained the can of blueberries before he had the chance. I simply didn't want to deal with the mess that he would inevitably make. He insisted, however, on doing the rest ALL BY HIMSELF. So I left him to it.

Luckily, I stayed in the room.

Mind you, these muffins came from a mix in a box. Complete with directions. He dumped the mix into a bowl, and then got out the milk, eggs, and oil. I looked over in time to see him pour milk into the bowl. Directly from the carton. Failing to notice the ingredients list at the top of the directions, he simply saw the part that said to pour the milk into the bowl. And so he did. I'm sure he would have just as happily added "some oil" as well. I wonder how many eggs he would have deemed appropriate. We'll never know.

The milk was easy to spoon out, and luckily he hadn't put too much in. I showed him the ingredients list, and he continued on his merry way.

And the muffins were pretty good, too.

Revenge of the Jack o' Lantern

2009-11-02T04:33:00.000-08:00

I'm increasingly lazy in my old age. I like prepackaged foods, precut meat, and precut veggies. So it can be a bit frustrating living here where there is very little in the way of laziness enabling products. If I was living at home in the US, I'd be buying canned pumpkin this year. Alas, even our commissary has no pumpkin. Pumpkin pie filling only. So this year I once again chopped up our Halloween pumpkins and am now in the process of boiling them, in preparation for the peeling and pureeing process. Pumpkin bread, here we come!

However, the Jacks apparently aren't too happy with being cut up. Since completing the aforesaid cutting process, I have rinsed, soaped, rubbed, washed, washed, washed, and lotioned my hands. There is STILL a residue on my hand. Picture the driest skin you've ever had, barring cracked skin. That is my left hand right now.

That's ok, Jack. I'll heal, and you're still gonna be bread. Yummy, yummy bread.

Perpetual October

2009-10-09T12:20:00.000-07:00

I love October. I love autumn. I love that the weather cools off, and the humidity drops. And I LOVE the colorful leaves. I've always wanted to go to New England in the fall, but have never made it. But Utah and Virginia also have beautiful fall leaves.

Now, its October, but I currently live south of the equator. So, technically, its spring right now. And, I have to say, I still love October. There are some amazing trees here. My favorite, this purple one, blooms spectacularly all over Nairobi this time of year.

Others, however, bloom all year round. We have beautiful color on trees here all the time. Its like perpetual October!

Enjoy your autumn. October is wonderful. Later, however, when the cold winds blow and the trees are bare, next summer when all is green, think of me enjoying the perpetual color of Kenya. And the weather is pretty much perfect, too!

Wisdom Beyond His Years

2009-09-22T09:25:00.000-07:00

I found out today that, shortly after the Embassy spent $20,000 refurbishing the tennis court at the nearby housing compound, a group of children--ages unknown--spent an evening slamming large rocks onto the surface, causing $7000 in damage.

Will anything be done to apprehend and punish the perpetrators? I don't know.

However, I decided to make this a teaching moment for Joseph, age 9. We walked over to the tennis court, but couldn't see into it through the screened fence. (Now they lock it.) I told him what had happened, and asked him what he would or should have done had he been in this group of children. He gave all the right answers: NOT participate, leave, tell an adult.

I told him that if I had heard that he was in the group and then talked to him about it and he'd told me that he didn't participate, I'd want to believe him. But his very presence would make him as guilty as the others. He seemed to understand that idea, and knows that, while he should do his best to keep his friends from doing dumb things, if they did them anyway, he needs to leave. Immediately.

Anyway, the conversation moved on to other things; we talked about how everybody does dumb things, everyone finds themselves in a group of people doing dumb things, and we need to be careful not to stay. I told him that not everyone has the wisest of parents. Some parents even buy alcohol for their children to drink at home, arguing that, since teenagers drink, they'd rather have them drinking at home where they can control it.

Joseph's response: "That'll just encourage them to drink somewhere else, too."

Surprise, Surprise

2009-08-03T17:33:00.000-07:00

I have a compatible marriage.

In this world, there are two kinds of people: those who can be surprised, and those who surprise. My husband is a surprisee. I threw a surprise party for him more than twenty years ago. He saw the guest list. The day of the party, he saw the refreshments and completely bought the story that they were for a Relief Society activity. HE WAS TOTALLY SURPRISED. Since that time, he has been successfully surprised on more than one occasion.

I, on the other hand, am a surpriser. I can surprise others, but not the other way around. As I tell you this, I am picturing you thinking about how you are plotting to prove me wrong. In short, I am ALWAYS expecting the surprise. And it never comes. I can figure out what gifts are--whatever the occasion--without even trying. In fact, it is when I try NOT thinking about it that I have the most success in figuring it out. I'm not saying I enjoy this quality about myself, I am just saying that that is the way it is. I cannot be surprised.

Until today.

I am far from home, visiting my daughter and her family. My husband had asked me what I wanted for my birthday, and I had no answer. I told him that he could take me out to dinner next week when I get home.

Today there was a knock on my daughter's door, and she answered it and then came into the room holding a vase of flowers. I thought how sweet that someone would send her flowers, and asked her who they were from. She said that they were for me. I was stunned. Mind you, every year for Mother's Day and for the birthdays of my mother and mother-in-law, I send them flowers. And tomorrow is MY birthday. Still, I never expected it. I must be losing my touch in my old age.

Its great to be the surprisee for a change. Thanks, my love.

Happiness vs. Joy

2009-07-27T06:39:00.000-07:00

Last night after I went to bed I was feeling pretty great. And I realized why that was. There is a profound difference between happiness and joy.

Happiness is getting a new camera. Or a new evening gown for the Marine Ball.

Happiness is going to Egypt. Or Sri Lanka.

Happiness is getting that super job you applied for.

Happiness is seeing that rerun of the only episode you missed from your favorite tv show.

Happiness is great. It is not, however joy.

I try to call all my children every week, since, when I'm living overseas, its not so easy for them to call me. I am not, at the moment, overseas, however, and I am not quite as filled with free time.

Saturday night my second daughter, Alyssa, texted me right as I was going to bed. I have a freaking awesome text alert on my new phone (put that alert, along with the freaking awesome new ring tones into the Happiness is... category). But it is really loud, and rather annoying when you're trying to sleep. So I put the phone on vibrate for the night, just in case. And then, on Sunday morning, I forgot to put it back on ring. And I left it in the bedroom.

I spent the day with my oldest daughter, Cassie, and her husband and daughter, Ben and Evie. Also with my youngest son, Joseph. I even went to choir practice with them. I've been having a wonderful vacation here. Later on Sunday afternoon, I looked at my phone, and realized that all three of my other children had called. I called Alyssa back and we had a great talk. Then I called Andrew, just in time for him to go to a meeting. He promised to call me when it was over. I called Daniel next, and right in the middle of our conversation dinner was ready. So we agreed that I'd call him again afterward. Which I did. Wonderful. Later, Andrew called again, and in the middle of THAT conversation, my husband, Sam, called. I detest call waiting; I think it's one of the rudest things ever invented, but when Sam calls from Africa I can't really call him back, so I take the call. Yet another super talk. I then called Andrew back, and we had a nice long talk.

After I went to bed I realized that what I was feeling was joy. Not the happiness that comes from buying something cool or seeing something new in the world, but the deep-down joy that comes from being surrounded with people you adore and who love you.

Elder Jeffrey R. Holland said something I was blessed to hear twice lately. I can't at all remember the exact words, but it was essentially that Heaven can't really be heaven if I'm not there with all my loved ones. These aren't just people I've grown used to being around. Its not just a nice idea for us all to be together forever. Make no mistake, I've got some really great friends that I'd really like to have around me in the eternities, but these people--my husband, children, grandchildren, parents, and siblings--are the ones that will make it heaven. These people are a part of me; they are infused into my soul.

And that's joy.

PS Lewis, I'm waiting for your call.

Super Samaritan Man

2009-06-23T15:15:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I went out with my daughter for some child-free time. We had lots of stuff planned. Well, a little stuff planned, as we didn't have all day. But we were going to check out a place with lots of crafters and artisans, and then try to find the Russell Stover outlet that we saw advertised on the way to Branson. And maybe get a manicure.

We couldn't find the craft place, so we just got onto the highway and went looking for the Russell Stover place. We found it, and got some yummy chocolate. (Naturally, we went there first, and got to haul the chocolate everywhere we went afterwards, as opposed to leaving it in the car, where it would melt in the 100 degree heat. Remember this fact, as it will have bearing later in the story.)

Afterwards, we went to Walmart across the parking lot to buy a blanket for my frozen granddaughter, and then went back across the parking lot to a nail place for manicures.

Fresh from the newly drying manicures, we set off for the condo we are staying in. Just at our exit, we heard a noise like we'd driven over a stick or something, and then an ominous sound that meant only one thing: flat tire. In a tire that was less than a week old.

I've never changed a tire in my life, though I've seen it done. Cassandra either. And there we were. The one person in our party that could have done it was back at the condo with two children and no transportation. Good times. With her freshly manicured nails, Cassie managed to get the tire out of the trunk while I got the instruction manual out of the glove box. I then got the jack out. That was the extent of our knowledge. Mind you, the entire time we were striving to look as pretty and helpless as possible so that someone would stop. So far nobody had. Luckily, just as we were despairing how to use the jack, and wonderful good samaritan stopped. I think he had previously been by and circled back to save us. He was wonderful. He changed the tire and refused any reward.

And he did it so quickly that the chocolates were still nice and firm when we got them home. And also the manicures survived quite nicely, thank you.

She's a Rebel

2009-06-04T04:48:00.000-07:00

Last week Joseph went to a school party, which included swimming. The nice thing was that they took his bus home from the party, so Joseph simply left his swim bag on the bus, in order to hold his seat, while he went to the classroom to gather his things. An oh, so helpful teacher's assistant saw the bag and took it to her classroom. Joseph found out about it when he got back on the bus and found his bag missing. The bus monitor told him that he didn't have time to go retrieve it, and that she would get it for him later. Saturday...Sunday...Monday (a holiday)...Tuesday. She didn't have it when the bus arrived in the morning, but said that she'd get it. After school she didn't have it, and told Joseph that he'd said that he was going to get it. Wednesday morning, I spoke to her and told her that he didn't know where the classroom was. She said she'd get it. Bottom line, the oh, so helpful teacher had just abandoned the bag on a table outside. It was nowhere to be found at the school, not even in the black hole that they call Lost and Found. One pricey swim bag, one swimsuit, and our best swim towel. Gone. Forever.

Perhaps you are wondering what this all has to do with the title of this blog entry. Try to imagine my feelings after trying to get this bag back for nearly a week, and then tromping all over the school in search of it today, this last day of school. Frustrated? Angry? Extremely annoyed? All of the above.

So, as we were making our way to the parking lot, we had to pass in front of the front bus in the line. A man--monitor? bus driver? who knows?--stopped me and told me that we weren't allowed to pass in front of this bus, because we couldn't see any traffic that might be coming up beside the bus, IN THE PARKING LOT. I gave him my what am I, a moron, look, told him that I was capable of looking for cars before stepping out from the front of the bus, and continued right on my way. In front of the bus. And I lived to tell about it. Go figure.

Ma Barker Lives! (In Kenya)

2009-04-23T08:08:00.000-07:00

Today I met with one of my Young Women from church. I thought I was there to help her prepare a talk for church this Sunday. We did a bit of that, but mostly she wanted my advice on what she could say to comfort her grandmother. Here's the story:

Five years ago, her (granny's) son had a wife. A pregnant wife. Said wife went to the hospital one day to deliver her baby, and then later came back without said baby. She told everyone that the baby had been premature, and had to stay at the hospital. Apparently here its like in Romania, where only the mother of a hospitalized child gets to actually see the child in hospital. After a while, when the baby still didn't appear, the family began to wonder where it was, and then the mother said that it had died. Dad, as you can imagine, was none too happy about this, and wanted to see the body. Finally, the mother confessed that she had sold the baby for ksh 80,000 ($1000).

Dad and grandma were very upset, as you can imagine. Soon thereafter, grandma and the aunt of my Young Woman--I'm assuming this aunt is the baby's mother--went and took back the baby. The next day they awoke to find cops all over the place, and granny found out that they were looking for her. She turned herself in, and was arrested, and spent several days in jail before her family could raise bail.

Over the course of the ensuing five years, trial was set, and dna tests ordered. The father was advised NOT to do the dna test, as it was already known that he was the father. However, he did anyway, and apparently the baby purchasers bribed a doctor or two, and the blood sample was switched. Also, the father was poisoned, and subsequently died.

Grandma has been paying her lawyer with every shilling sent from her daughter living in Dubai, and with the dowery money she received a couple of weeks ago for her daughter's marriage a quarter of a century ago. But that's another story. The trial has been postponed several times, and this week the final judgment was due. Postponed again, presumably through bribery from the other side. The latest date is May 6.

The good news is that granny is officially too old to to to prison. But a hefty fine could be in order. This is the nicest sweetest old lady you'd ever want to meet. We have been to her home in the slums on more than one occasion. Humble isn't the word for it. But its home, and she deserves to be there, without all this worry.
This photo is of a
pot, yes, but in the
background is granny's
humble home.

The King of Multi-Tasking

2009-04-17T02:24:00.000-07:00

Joseph has a bedtime routine. There are certain things that he must do every night. These things include putting on pajamas, brushing teeth, and reading scriptures. The other night I popped into his room while he was getting ready for bed. I found him sitting on his bed in his underwear, with a toothbrush in his mouth and scriptures in his lap.

Princess Please Give Me Something Worthwhile to Do!

2009-04-17T02:11:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess. This princess, however, didn't live in a castle. Her father, the king, had fallen on hard times, and the family was forced to make some changes. Accordingly, the royal family had sold the castle to a foreign corporation and moved into a modest three bedroom home in the suburbs.

The princess, whose name was Arabella, enrolled in the local high school, where she found that her fellow students were unaware of her heritage. They were not interested at all in Arabella's past life, but spent their time (free and otherwise) texting one another and hanging out at the mall. Arabella found this behavior puzzling, but, wanting to fit in, went to the mall to look for a cell phone. She figured that if she was seen hanging out at the mall with a cell phone, the friends would come.

That's all I've got. I just started typing and the story came to me. At least this much. I've got nothing more. I'm sure that eventually Arabella found some friends; she probably even found popularity. She was beautiful, after all. But maybe not. I really don't know. Perhaps she found her new life to be extremely lonely. Not that she had more friends when she lived in the castle. Just that now she knew what she was missing. Isn't that what its all about? We're fine, until we see what we've been missing, and then suddenly, with the same as we've always had, or sometimes even more, we are no longer fine. Anyway, Arabella may have made a better queen for her experience. Or maybe not. Maybe she started amassing uzis and grenades and killed everyone in her school, thus bringing democracy to her country. I really don't know. I just wanted to type something so that when my housekeeper came into the room she would think that I've been extremely busy, rather than knowing the truth--I was playing games, bored out of my mind while trying to stay out of her way.

Water, Water Everywhere, and Not a Drop for Washing

2009-03-17T03:11:00.000-07:00

Water. We all need it. For all sorts of things. We drink it, bathe in it, wash with it, cook with it. Here in Nairobi we have a shortage. Too many dry rainy seasons. We all need it, and really feel the pinch when its lacking.

I'm quite accustomed now to drinking bottled water. Pretentious? In many contexts, yes, but not here in Kenya. Or in Romania. Or El Salvador. I've lived many places where its simply not safe to drink from the tap. So when I go home it seems really strange to me to do so. (I get over it quickly.)

One beef we had in Romania was that when you used the public restrooms in the malls, there was no hot water for hand washing. Just cold. I hated it. But last week I discovered that things can be--and in some places are--worse.

Heathrow airport. Very nice place. Plenty of shopping, and, unlike some airports, plenty of seating. Very nice. However. The restrooms. Like Romanian shopping malls, they only have one temperature of water. Unlike Romania, however, the temperature of the water in the London Heathrow taps is hot. Really. They have warning signs over every sink: Warning: water extremely hot!

Now I ask you, how are you supposed to wash your hands in uber hot water? It can't be done. You can just moisten your hands by placing them under the tap for a milisecond, before the water becomes unbearable. Soap? Sure, if you're willing to wipe it off with a towel. Oh wait! No towels at Heathrow. Just air dryers. (On a side note--I HATE air dryers, but the ones at Heathrow are actually super powerful and do, in fact, dry the hands. But they don't remove soap.) All these years, I thought that Romania was seriously dumb and cheap for not providing hot water in their mall restrooms, when in reality it was the progressive Brits that miss the point entirely. At least you CAN wash in cold water.

Another issue with the Brits: what the heck is the point of two faucets in a bathroom sink? Picture me trying to remove my mascara: Quickly wet the fingers in the hot water, and then move quickly to the cold to cool off the fingers before rubbing the eyelashes. Repeat over and over again until fingers turn blue or blister, or mascara is removed. Wash the face? Not in the usual manner, sister!

Cart 'em Off

2009-03-14T12:17:00.000-07:00

Having lived in five different countries, and visited several more, I feel I am at least a little qualified to discuss certain aspects of culture and/or products that span the globe. One of these global products is the shopping cart. Being an American, I perhaps suffer from the arrogance of many of my countrymen in thinking that our products are better than others'. Oftentimes this is simply not true; we simply prefer what we are used to. However, on the subject of the shopping cart, I truly believe that America has the better product, and I truly cannot understand why the rest of the world doesn't follow. Actually, some of the rest of the world has; perhaps the shopping carts to which I refer began elsewhere. The trouble is, much of the world is deprived of this truly underappreciated product.

The key to the betterness of the shopping cart currently in use in America is wheels. In America, shopping carts have four wheels, just like everywhere else in the world. All four wheels rotate. However, in the American version, only TWO of the wheels turn--just like in automobiles. In cars, the front wheels are used for steering--they turn right and left--while the back wheels follow. Our shopping carts follow this same principle. And they are easy to steer for just that reason.

I first encountered a different type of shopping cart in London, and have since found them in Romania, Kenya, France, and Sri Lanka. I'm sure they exist in other countries. This type of shopping cart has FOUR wheels for steering. All of them turn right and left. and this is extremely annoying. I suppose the inventors of this type of cart figured that this style would make for tighter turns. I'm sure this can be achieved--in theory. However, in America, if I have trouble with a tight turn, I simply pick up the back end of the cart and make the turn. No matter how full my cart has been, this has never been difficult. Making tight turns--or any turn, for that matter--with the 'other' type of cart is nearly impossible, however. Instead, all turns are inevitably wide. Its just the way they are built.

You can tell which type of cart a country uses without actually trying them out. You just have to watch other shoppers. If they are pushing American style carts, they are going straight down the aisle. The 'other' type? They'll be going diagonally. Every time. This phenomenon is even more pronounced outside, when shooppers are navigating the slopes into the parking lot. They cannot be pushed straight.

I thought that perhaps this was just my American arrogance showing through. But no. I spoke to some friends who are not American, and do not live in America, but have visited America. To a man (ok, woman), they all preferred the American style.

Rise up, shoppers of the world! Let's demand steerable, controllable shopping carts. Things are already grim enough in the stores these days.