(531,1,'2010-09-18 18:00:29','2010-09-19 01:00:29','<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/grease.png\"><img src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/grease.png\" alt=\"\" title=\"grease\" width=\"283\" height=\"182\" class=\"alignleft size-full wp-image-530\" /></a>','','','inherit','open','open','','529-revision','','','2010-09-18 18:00:29','2010-09-19 01:00:29','',529,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/18/529-revision/',0,'revision','',0),(532,1,'2010-09-18 18:00:45','2010-09-19 01:00:45','<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/grease.png\"><img src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/grease.png\" alt=\"\" title=\"grease\" width=\"283\" height=\"182\" class=\"alignleft size-full wp-image-530\" /></a>','','','inherit','open','open','','529-revision-2','','','2010-09-18 18:00:45','2010-09-19 01:00:45','',529,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/18/529-revision-2/',0,'revision','',0),(533,1,'2010-09-18 18:04:04','2010-09-19 01:04:04','<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/grease.png\"><img src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/grease.png\" alt=\"\" title=\"grease\" width=\"283\" height=\"182\" class=\"alignleft size-full wp-image-530\" /></a>','Day 3:  Flashback Friday -- Grease Sing-Along','','inherit','open','open','','529-revision-3','','','2010-09-18 18:04:04','2010-09-19 01:04:04','',529,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/18/529-revision-3/',0,'revision','',0),(534,1,'2010-09-18 18:44:35','2010-09-19 01:44:35','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/grease.png\"><img class=\"alignleft size-full wp-image-530\" title=\"grease\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/grease.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"283\" height=\"182\" /></a></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>As a child, I was obsessed with the movie <em>Grease</em>.  And I do mean <em>obsessed.  </em></p>\n\n<p>I listened to the soundtrack night and day.  I locked myself into my bedroom for countless renditions of \"Hopelessly Devoted to You\".  Hell -- I still sing it in the shower every now and then.  (I can\'t believe that I just admitted that.  I\'m such a dork.)</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>When I was in 6th grade, I had the grand ambition of staging a neighborhood production of <em>Grease</em>.  Humble young thing that I was, I cast myself as Sandy.  Olivia Newton-John was my idol, and here was my chance to sing and dance in her footsteps. </p>\n\n<p>Of course, none of the neighborhood boys wanted to be Danny, despite my assurances that there would be no real kissing.  Luckily, my next door neighbor, Sharon, happened to be a tomboy and wanted no part of parading around as a Pink Lady.  She volunteered to be Danny.  What a pal!</p>\n\n<p>After much beggin, pleading, and probably bossing around on my part, the boys finally agreed to roles as T-Birds.  My sister signed on as Frenchy.  I had no problem securing a waiting list of Pink Ladies as every girl at one time or another has wanted to strut their stuff as a Pink Lady.  Except for Sharon and the tomboy contingency, obviously.</p>\n\n<p>Contracts were signed, and a rehearsal schedule was set.  Yes, you read \"contracts\" correctly.  More about that in a minute. </p>\n\n<p>I knew that I needed to write Olivia Newton-John pronto.  With the performance date lurking around six weeks away, her invitation needed to get to Australia ASAP. </p>\n\n<p>I visualized Olivia sitting in the front row.  I would reserve her the best seat in the house -- or in this instance, the play would take place in the garage -- even if it meant my parents sacrificing their seats for her. </p>\n\n<p>Mesmerized by my performance, Olivia would insist that my parents hire a private tutor so that I could follow her to Hollywood and star in her next musical.  As you may or may not recall (you are probably not as dorky as me), that next musical would have been <em>Xanadu</em> which makes me absolutely ga-ga when I ponder the what could have beens. </p>\n\n<p>As fate would have it, my <em>Grease</em> dreams quickly crashed and burned around me.  My sister, as usual, started it. </p>\n\n<p>This time, it was a contract dispute.  The contract explicitly stated that the only excused absences from rehearsal were death of a family member or illness (with a doctor\'s note). </p>\n\n<p>Jenny (this was before her now cutesie-cool spelling of \"Jennie\") first claimed to have a sore throat, skipped out of rehearsal, and failed to produce a doctor\'s note.  Next, she refused to reschedule her conflicting piano lesson  and consequently received a second demerit.  Demerit #3 would equal a boot from the show, and an understudy was chomping at the bit to play Frenchy. </p>\n\n<p>Jenny was pissed.  Always looking for an opportunity to get her big sister into trouble, she bitched incessantly to the rest of the cast and ultimately staged a mutiny. </p>\n\n<p>I was devastated.  I was back to playing Sandy to a crowd of stuffed animals in my bedroom. </p>\n\n<p>To make matters worse, I received a reply from Olivia.  My heart raced as I tore into the letter.  There was still hope!  I could assemble a brand new cast with that Pink Lady waiting list, woo Olivia with my talent, and escape from all of this elementary school mediocrity. </p>\n\n<p>I devoured each and every word of that letter -- each and every word describing Olivia\'s love and committment to animals.  And since I was a hopelessly devoted to Olivia, would I please consider sending a donation to one of Olivia\'s animal charities? </p>\n\n<p>I mailed Olivia my hopes and dreams, and she replied with a form letter.</p>\n\n<p>Despite my extreme disappointment, I remained hopelessly devoted.  Being the little animal rights activist that I was, I am sure that I hit on my parents for a donation. </p>\n\n<p>Fast forward 30 years, and although I am no longer <em>obsessed </em>with <em>Grease </em>-- that would go beyond dorky and be just plain creepy -- the movie and soundtrack holds a special place in my sentimental and nostalgic heart. </p>\n\n<p>Have you heard about the <em>Grease Sing-Along</em> that was released this summer?  If it is not playing in your fair city, you can request it <a href=\"http://www.greasemovie.com/\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>here.</strong></a> </p>\n\n<p>I convinced my friend, David, to go with me.  David is always up for a challenge.  My nickname for him is \"Captain Adventure\" as he jets off to remote and exotic locales to escape civilization a couple of times a year.   We\'re not talking about the sipping cocktails in a Fijian hut kind of ecape.  We\'re talking about side-stepping Komodo dragons, free diving with sharks, and swimming in alligator-infested waters kind of escape. </p>\n\n<p>Obviously, David\'s masculinity is never in question, and thus he doesn\'t hesitate to sing along to \"There are Worse Things I Could Do\".  I think he may have drawn the line at \"Look at Me, I\'m Sandra Dee\" though.  Hey -- every man has his limitations. </p>\n\n<p>I knew that on the 1-10 scale of fun-ness, the Sing-Along would more than likely rate a 9 or a 10.  But I\'m going to go ahead and give it a 20. </p>\n\n<p>We had a BLAST!  The theatre was nearly full, it wasn\'t just the chicks singing (the guys crooned along just as much), and it took me back.  Waaaaaayyyyy back to the happiest of childhood memories. </p>\n\n<p>My advice?  GO!  You will not be disappointed.</p>\n\n<p>Wop baba lu</p>','Day 3:  Flashback Friday -- Grease Sing-Along','','inherit','open','open','','529-revision-4','','','2010-09-18 18:44:35','2010-09-19 01:44:35','',529,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/18/529-revision-4/',0,'revision','',0),(535,1,'2010-09-18 18:46:14','2010-09-19 01:46:14','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/grease.png\"><img class=\"alignleft size-full wp-image-530\" title=\"grease\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/grease.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"283\" height=\"182\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As a child, I was obsessed with the movie <em>Grease</em>.  And I do mean <em>obsessed.  </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I listened to the soundtrack night and day.  I locked myself into my bedroom for countless renditions of \"Hopelessly Devoted to You\".  Hell -- I still sing it in the shower every now and then.  (I can\'t believe that I just admitted that.  I\'m such a dork.)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>When I was in 6th grade, I had the grand ambition of staging a neighborhood production of <em>Grease</em>.  Humble young thing that I was, I cast myself as Sandy.  Olivia Newton-John was my idol, and here was my chance to sing and dance in her footsteps. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>Of course, none of the neighborhood boys wanted to be Danny, despite my assurances that there would be no real kissing.  Luckily, my next door neighbor, Sharon, happened to be a tomboy and wanted no part of parading around as a Pink Lady.  She volunteered to be Danny.  What a pal!</p>\r\n\r\n<p>After much beggin, pleading, and probably bossing around on my part, the boys finally agreed to roles as T-Birds.  My sister signed on as Frenchy.  I had no problem securing a waiting list of Pink Ladies as every girl at one time or another has wanted to strut their stuff as a Pink Lady.  Except for Sharon and the tomboy contingency, obviously.</p>\r\n\r\n<p>Contracts were signed, and a rehearsal schedule was set.  Yes, you read \"contracts\" correctly.  More about that in a minute. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>I knew that I needed to write Olivia Newton-John pronto.  With the performance date lurking around six weeks away, her invitation needed to get to Australia ASAP. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>I visualized Olivia sitting in the front row.  I would reserve her the best seat in the house -- or in this instance, the play would take place in the garage -- even if it meant my parents sacrificing their seats for her. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>Mesmerized by my performance, Olivia would insist that my parents hire a private tutor so that I could follow her to Hollywood and star in her next musical.  As you may or may not recall (you are probably not as dorky as me), that next musical would have been <em>Xanadu</em> which makes me absolutely ga-ga when I ponder the what could have beens. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>As fate would have it, my <em>Grease</em> dreams quickly crashed and burned around me.  My sister, as usual, started it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>This time, it was a contract dispute.  The contract explicitly stated that the only excused absences from rehearsal were death of a family member or illness (with a doctor\'s note). </p>\r\n\r\n<p>Jenny (this was before her now cutesie-cool spelling of \"Jennie\") first claimed to have a sore throat, skipped out of rehearsal, and failed to produce a doctor\'s note.  Next, she refused to reschedule her conflicting piano lesson  and consequently received a second demerit.  Demerit #3 would equal a boot from the show, and an understudy was chomping at the bit to play Frenchy. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>Jenny was pissed.  Always looking for an opportunity to get her big sister into trouble, she bitched incessantly to the rest of the cast and ultimately staged a mutiny. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was devastated.  I was back to playing Sandy to a crowd of stuffed animals in my bedroom. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>To make matters worse, I received a reply from Olivia.  My heart raced as I tore into the letter.  There was still hope!  I could assemble a brand new cast with that Pink Lady waiting list, woo Olivia with my talent, and escape from all of this elementary school mediocrity. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>I devoured each and every word of that letter -- each and every word describing Olivia\'s love and committment to animals.  And since I was a hopelessly devoted to Olivia, would I please consider sending a donation to one of Olivia\'s animal charities? </p>\r\n\r\n<p>I mailed Olivia my hopes and dreams, and she replied with a form letter.</p>\r\n\r\n<p>Despite my extreme disappointment, I remained hopelessly devoted.  Being the little animal rights activist that I was, I am sure that I hit on my parents for a donation. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>Fast forward 30 years, and although I am no longer <em>obsessed </em>with <em>Grease </em>-- that would go beyond dorky and be just plain creepy -- the movie and soundtrack holds a special place in my sentimental and nostalgic heart. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>Have you heard about the <em>Grease Sing-Along</em> that was released this summer?  If it is not playing in your fair city, you can request it <a href=\"http://www.greasemovie.com/\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>here.</strong></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p>I convinced my friend, David, to go with me.  David is always up for a challenge.  My nickname for him is \"Captain Adventure\" as he jets off to remote and exotic locales to escape civilization a couple of times a year.   We\'re not talking about the sipping cocktails in a Fijian hut kind of ecape.  We\'re talking about side-stepping Komodo dragons, free diving with sharks, and swimming in alligator-infested waters kind of escape. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>Obviously, David\'s masculinity is never in question, and thus he doesn\'t hesitate to sing along to \"There are Worse Things I Could Do\".  I think he may have drawn the line at \"Look at Me, I\'m Sandra Dee\" though.  Hey -- every man has his limitations. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>I knew that on the 1-10 scale of fun-ness, the Sing-Along would more than likely rate a 9 or a 10.  But I\'m going to go ahead and give it a 20. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>We had a BLAST!  The theatre was nearly full, it wasn\'t just the chicks singing (the guys crooned along just as much), and it took me back.  Waaaaaayyyyy back to the happiest of childhood memories. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>My advice?  GO!  You will not be disappointed.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Wop baba lumop a wap bam boom!</strong></p>','Day 3:  Flashback Friday -- Grease Sing-Along','','inherit','open','open','','529-revision-5','','','2010-09-18 18:46:14','2010-09-19 01:46:14','',529,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/18/529-revision-5/',0,'revision','',0),(536,1,'2010-09-18 18:46:23','2010-09-19 01:46:23','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/grease.png\"><img class=\"alignleft size-full wp-image-530\" title=\"grease\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/grease.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"283\" height=\"182\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As a child, I was obsessed with the movie <em>Grease</em>.  And I do mean <em>obsessed.  </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I listened to the soundtrack night and day.  I locked myself into my bedroom for countless renditions of \"Hopelessly Devoted to You\".  Hell -- I still sing it in the shower every now and then.  (I can\'t believe that I just admitted that.  I\'m such a dork.)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>When I was in 6th grade, I had the grand ambition of staging a neighborhood production of <em>Grease</em>.  Humble young thing that I was, I cast myself as Sandy.  Olivia Newton-John was my idol, and here was my chance to sing and dance in her footsteps. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>Of course, none of the neighborhood boys wanted to be Danny, despite my assurances that there would be no real kissing.  Luckily, my next door neighbor, Sharon, happened to be a tomboy and wanted no part of parading around as a Pink Lady.  She volunteered to be Danny.  What a pal!</p>\r\n\r\n<p>After much beggin, pleading, and probably bossing around on my part, the boys finally agreed to roles as T-Birds.  My sister signed on as Frenchy.  I had no problem securing a waiting list of Pink Ladies as every girl at one time or another has wanted to strut their stuff as a Pink Lady.  Except for Sharon and the tomboy contingency, obviously.</p>\r\n\r\n<p>Contracts were signed, and a rehearsal schedule was set.  Yes, you read \"contracts\" correctly.  More about that in a minute. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>I knew that I needed to write Olivia Newton-John pronto.  With the performance date lurking around six weeks away, her invitation needed to get to Australia ASAP. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>I visualized Olivia sitting in the front row.  I would reserve her the best seat in the house -- or in this instance, the play would take place in the garage -- even if it meant my parents sacrificing their seats for her. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>Mesmerized by my performance, Olivia would insist that my parents hire a private tutor so that I could follow her to Hollywood and star in her next musical.  As you may or may not recall (you are probably not as dorky as me), that next musical would have been <em>Xanadu</em> which makes me absolutely ga-ga when I ponder the what could have beens. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>As fate would have it, my <em>Grease</em> dreams quickly crashed and burned around me.  My sister, as usual, started it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>This time, it was a contract dispute.  The contract explicitly stated that the only excused absences from rehearsal were death of a family member or illness (with a doctor\'s note). </p>\r\n\r\n<p>Jenny (this was before her now cutesie-cool spelling of \"Jennie\") first claimed to have a sore throat, skipped out of rehearsal, and failed to produce a doctor\'s note.  Next, she refused to reschedule her conflicting piano lesson  and consequently received a second demerit.  Demerit #3 would equal a boot from the show, and an understudy was chomping at the bit to play Frenchy. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>Jenny was pissed.  Always looking for an opportunity to get her big sister into trouble, she bitched incessantly to the rest of the cast and ultimately staged a mutiny. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was devastated.  I was back to playing Sandy to a crowd of stuffed animals in my bedroom. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>To make matters worse, I received a reply from Olivia.  My heart raced as I tore into the letter.  There was still hope!  I could assemble a brand new cast with that Pink Lady waiting list, woo Olivia with my talent, and escape from all of this elementary school mediocrity. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>I devoured each and every word of that letter -- each and every word describing Olivia\'s love and committment to animals.  And since I was a hopelessly devoted to Olivia, would I please consider sending a donation to one of Olivia\'s animal charities? </p>\r\n\r\n<p>I mailed Olivia my hopes and dreams, and she replied with a form letter.</p>\r\n\r\n<p>Despite my extreme disappointment, I remained hopelessly devoted.  Being the little animal rights activist that I was, I am sure that I hit on my parents for a donation. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>Fast forward 30 years, and although I am no longer <em>obsessed </em>with <em>Grease </em>-- that would go beyond dorky and be just plain creepy -- the movie and soundtrack holds a special place in my sentimental and nostalgic heart. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>Have you heard about the <em>Grease Sing-Along</em> that was released this summer?  If it is not playing in your fair city, you can request it <a href=\"http://www.greasemovie.com/\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>here.</strong></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p>I convinced my friend, David, to go with me.  David is always up for a challenge.  My nickname for him is \"Captain Adventure\" as he jets off to remote and exotic locales to escape civilization a couple of times a year.   We\'re not talking about the sipping cocktails in a Fijian hut kind of ecape.  We\'re talking about side-stepping Komodo dragons, free diving with sharks, and swimming in alligator-infested waters kind of escape. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>Obviously, David\'s masculinity is never in question, and thus he doesn\'t hesitate to sing along to \"There are Worse Things I Could Do\".  I think he may have drawn the line at \"Look at Me, I\'m Sandra Dee\" though.  Hey -- every man has his limitations. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>I knew that on the 1-10 scale of fun-ness, the Sing-Along would more than likely rate a 9 or a 10.  But I\'m going to go ahead and give it a 20. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>We had a BLAST!  The theatre was nearly full, it wasn\'t just the chicks singing (the guys crooned along just as much), and it took me back.  Waaaaaayyyyy back to the happiest of childhood memories. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>My advice?  GO!  You will not be disappointed.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Wop baba lumop a wap bam boom!</strong></p>','Day 3:  Flashback Friday -- Grease Sing-Along','','inherit','open','open','','529-revision-6','','','2010-09-18 18:46:23','2010-09-19 01:46:23','',529,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/18/529-revision-6/',0,'revision','',0),(538,1,'2010-09-18 18:47:10','2010-09-19 01:47:10','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/grease.png\"><img class=\"alignleft size-full wp-image-530\" title=\"grease\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/grease.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"283\" height=\"182\" /></a></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>As a child, I was obsessed with the movie <em>Grease</em>.  And I do mean <em>obsessed.  </em></p>\r\n<p><em> </em></p>\r\n<p>I listened to the soundtrack night and day.  I locked myself into my bedroom for countless renditions of \"Hopelessly Devoted to You\".  Hell -- I still sing it in the shower every now and then.  (I can\'t believe that I just admitted that.  I\'m such a dork.)</p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>When I was in 6th grade, I had the grand ambition of staging a neighborhood production of <em>Grease</em>.  Humble young thing that I was, I cast myself as Sandy.  Olivia Newton-John was my idol, and here was my chance to sing and dance in her footsteps. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Of course, none of the neighborhood boys wanted to be Danny, despite my assurances that there would be no real kissing.  Luckily, my next door neighbor, Sharon, happened to be a tomboy and wanted no part of parading around as a Pink Lady.  She volunteered to be Danny.  What a pal!</p>\r\n<p>After much beggin, pleading, and probably bossing around on my part, the boys finally agreed to roles as T-Birds.  My sister signed on as Frenchy.  I had no problem securing a waiting list of Pink Ladies as every girl at one time or another has wanted to strut their stuff as a Pink Lady.  Except for Sharon and the tomboy contingency, obviously.</p>\r\n<p>Contracts were signed, and a rehearsal schedule was set.  Yes, you read \"contracts\" correctly.  More about that in a minute. </p>\r\n<p>I knew that I needed to write Olivia Newton-John pronto.  With the performance date lurking around six weeks away, her invitation needed to get to Australia ASAP. </p>\r\n<p>I visualized Olivia sitting in the front row.  I would reserve her the best seat in the house -- or in this instance, the play would take place in the garage -- even if it meant my parents sacrificing their seats for her. </p>\r\n<p>Mesmerized by my performance, Olivia would insist that my parents hire a private tutor so that I could follow her to Hollywood and star in her next musical.  As you may or may not recall (you are probably not as dorky as me), that next musical would have been <em>Xanadu</em> which makes me absolutely ga-ga when I ponder the what could have beens. </p>\r\n<p>As fate would have it, my <em>Grease</em> dreams quickly crashed and burned around me.  My sister, as usual, started it. </p>\r\n<p>This time, it was a contract dispute.  The contract explicitly stated that the only excused absences from rehearsal were death of a family member or illness (with a doctor\'s note). </p>\r\n<p>Jenny (this was before her now cutesie-cool spelling of \"Jennie\") first claimed to have a sore throat, skipped out of rehearsal, and failed to produce a doctor\'s note.  Next, she refused to reschedule her conflicting piano lesson  and consequently received a second demerit.  Demerit #3 would equal a boot from the show, and an understudy was chomping at the bit to play Frenchy. </p>\r\n<p>Jenny was pissed.  Always looking for an opportunity to get her big sister into trouble, she bitched incessantly to the rest of the cast and ultimately staged a mutiny. </p>\r\n<p>I was devastated.  I was back to playing Sandy to a crowd of stuffed animals in my bedroom. </p>\r\n<p>To make matters worse, I received a reply from Olivia.  My heart raced as I tore into the letter.  There was still hope!  I could assemble a brand new cast with that Pink Lady waiting list, woo Olivia with my talent, and escape from all of this elementary school mediocrity. </p>\r\n<p>I devoured each and every word of that letter -- each and every word describing Olivia\'s love and committment to animals.  And since I was a hopelessly devoted to Olivia, would I please consider sending a donation to one of Olivia\'s animal charities? </p>\r\n<p>I mailed Olivia my hopes and dreams, and she replied with a form letter.</p>\r\n<p>Despite my extreme disappointment, I remained hopelessly devoted.  Being the little animal rights activist that I was, I am sure that I hit on my parents for a donation. </p>\r\n<p>Fast forward 30 years, and although I am no longer <em>obsessed </em>with <em>Grease </em>-- that would go beyond dorky and be just plain creepy -- the movie and soundtrack holds a special place in my sentimental and nostalgic heart. </p>\r\n<p>Have you heard about the <em>Grease Sing-Along</em> that was released this summer?  If it is not playing in your fair city, you can request it <a href=\"http://www.greasemovie.com/\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>here.</strong></a> </p>\r\n<p>I convinced my friend, David, to go with me.  David is always up for a challenge.  My nickname for him is \"Captain Adventure\" as he jets off to remote and exotic locales to escape civilization a couple of times a year.   We\'re not talking about the sipping cocktails in a Fijian hut kind of ecape.  We\'re talking about side-stepping Komodo dragons, free diving with sharks, and swimming in alligator-infested waters kind of escape. </p>\r\n<p>Obviously, David\'s masculinity is never in question, and thus he doesn\'t hesitate to sing along to \"There are Worse Things I Could Do\".  I think he may have drawn the line at \"Look at Me, I\'m Sandra Dee\" though.  Hey -- every man has his limitations. </p>\r\n<p>I knew that on the 1-10 scale of fun-ness, the Sing-Along would more than likely rate a 9 or a 10.  But I\'m going to go ahead and give it a 20. </p>\r\n<p>We had a BLAST!  The theatre was nearly full, it wasn\'t just the chicks singing (the guys crooned along just as much), and it took me back.  Waaaaaayyyyy back to the happiest of childhood memories. </p>\r\n<p>My advice?  GO!  You will not be disappointed.</p>\r\n<p><strong>Wop baba lumop a wap bam boom!</strong></p>\r\n','Day 3:  Flashback Friday -- Grease Sing-Along','','inherit','open','open','','529-revision-8','','','2010-09-18 18:47:10','2010-09-19 01:47:10','',529,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/18/529-revision-8/',0,'revision','',0),(537,1,'2010-09-18 18:47:03','2010-09-19 01:47:03','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/grease.png\"><img class=\"alignleft size-full wp-image-530\" title=\"grease\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/grease.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"283\" height=\"182\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As a child, I was obsessed with the movie <em>Grease</em>.  And I do mean <em>obsessed.  </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><em> </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I listened to the soundtrack night and day.  I locked myself into my bedroom for countless renditions of \"Hopelessly Devoted to You\".  Hell -- I still sing it in the shower every now and then.  (I can\'t believe that I just admitted that.  I\'m such a dork.)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>When I was in 6th grade, I had the grand ambition of staging a neighborhood production of <em>Grease</em>.  Humble young thing that I was, I cast myself as Sandy.  Olivia Newton-John was my idol, and here was my chance to sing and dance in her footsteps. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Of course, none of the neighborhood boys wanted to be Danny, despite my assurances that there would be no real kissing.  Luckily, my next door neighbor, Sharon, happened to be a tomboy and wanted no part of parading around as a Pink Lady.  She volunteered to be Danny.  What a pal!</p>\r\n\r\n<p>After much beggin, pleading, and probably bossing around on my part, the boys finally agreed to roles as T-Birds.  My sister signed on as Frenchy.  I had no problem securing a waiting list of Pink Ladies as every girl at one time or another has wanted to strut their stuff as a Pink Lady.  Except for Sharon and the tomboy contingency, obviously.</p>\r\n\r\n<p>Contracts were signed, and a rehearsal schedule was set.  Yes, you read \"contracts\" correctly.  More about that in a minute. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>I knew that I needed to write Olivia Newton-John pronto.  With the performance date lurking around six weeks away, her invitation needed to get to Australia ASAP. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>I visualized Olivia sitting in the front row.  I would reserve her the best seat in the house -- or in this instance, the play would take place in the garage -- even if it meant my parents sacrificing their seats for her. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>Mesmerized by my performance, Olivia would insist that my parents hire a private tutor so that I could follow her to Hollywood and star in her next musical.  As you may or may not recall (you are probably not as dorky as me), that next musical would have been <em>Xanadu</em> which makes me absolutely ga-ga when I ponder the what could have beens. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>As fate would have it, my <em>Grease</em> dreams quickly crashed and burned around me.  My sister, as usual, started it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>This time, it was a contract dispute.  The contract explicitly stated that the only excused absences from rehearsal were death of a family member or illness (with a doctor\'s note). </p>\r\n\r\n<p>Jenny (this was before her now cutesie-cool spelling of \"Jennie\") first claimed to have a sore throat, skipped out of rehearsal, and failed to produce a doctor\'s note.  Next, she refused to reschedule her conflicting piano lesson  and consequently received a second demerit.  Demerit #3 would equal a boot from the show, and an understudy was chomping at the bit to play Frenchy. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>Jenny was pissed.  Always looking for an opportunity to get her big sister into trouble, she bitched incessantly to the rest of the cast and ultimately staged a mutiny. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was devastated.  I was back to playing Sandy to a crowd of stuffed animals in my bedroom. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>To make matters worse, I received a reply from Olivia.  My heart raced as I tore into the letter.  There was still hope!  I could assemble a brand new cast with that Pink Lady waiting list, woo Olivia with my talent, and escape from all of this elementary school mediocrity. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>I devoured each and every word of that letter -- each and every word describing Olivia\'s love and committment to animals.  And since I was a hopelessly devoted to Olivia, would I please consider sending a donation to one of Olivia\'s animal charities? </p>\r\n\r\n<p>I mailed Olivia my hopes and dreams, and she replied with a form letter.</p>\r\n\r\n<p>Despite my extreme disappointment, I remained hopelessly devoted.  Being the little animal rights activist that I was, I am sure that I hit on my parents for a donation. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>Fast forward 30 years, and although I am no longer <em>obsessed </em>with <em>Grease </em>-- that would go beyond dorky and be just plain creepy -- the movie and soundtrack holds a special place in my sentimental and nostalgic heart. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>Have you heard about the <em>Grease Sing-Along</em> that was released this summer?  If it is not playing in your fair city, you can request it <a href=\"http://www.greasemovie.com/\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>here.</strong></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p>I convinced my friend, David, to go with me.  David is always up for a challenge.  My nickname for him is \"Captain Adventure\" as he jets off to remote and exotic locales to escape civilization a couple of times a year.   We\'re not talking about the sipping cocktails in a Fijian hut kind of ecape.  We\'re talking about side-stepping Komodo dragons, free diving with sharks, and swimming in alligator-infested waters kind of escape. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>Obviously, David\'s masculinity is never in question, and thus he doesn\'t hesitate to sing along to \"There are Worse Things I Could Do\".  I think he may have drawn the line at \"Look at Me, I\'m Sandra Dee\" though.  Hey -- every man has his limitations. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>I knew that on the 1-10 scale of fun-ness, the Sing-Along would more than likely rate a 9 or a 10.  But I\'m going to go ahead and give it a 20. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>We had a BLAST!  The theatre was nearly full, it wasn\'t just the chicks singing (the guys crooned along just as much), and it took me back.  Waaaaaayyyyy back to the happiest of childhood memories. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>My advice?  GO!  You will not be disappointed.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Wop baba lumop a wap bam boom!</strong></p>','Day 3:  Flashback Friday -- Grease Sing-Along','','inherit','open','open','','529-revision-7','','','2010-09-18 18:47:03','2010-09-19 01:47:03','',529,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/18/529-revision-7/',0,'revision','',0),(539,1,'2010-09-18 18:48:54','2010-09-19 01:48:54','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/grease.png\"><img class=\"alignleft size-full wp-image-530\" title=\"grease\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/grease.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"283\" height=\"182\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As a child, I was obsessed with the movie <em>Grease</em>.  And I do mean <em>obsessed.  </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><em> </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I listened to the soundtrack night and day.  I locked myself into my bedroom for countless renditions of \"Hopelessly Devoted to You\".  Hell -- I still sing it in the shower every now and then.  (I can\'t believe that I just admitted that.  I\'m such a dork.)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>When I was in 6th grade, I had the grand ambition of staging a neighborhood production of <em>Grease</em>.  Humble young thing that I was, I cast myself as Sandy.  Olivia Newton-John was my idol, and here was my chance to sing and dance in her footsteps. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Of course, none of the neighborhood boys wanted to be Danny, despite my assurances that there would be no real kissing.  Luckily, my next door neighbor, Sharon, happened to be a tomboy and wanted no part of parading around as a Pink Lady.  She volunteered to be Danny.  What a pal!</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>After much beggin, pleading, and probably bossing around on my part, the boys finally agreed to roles as T-Birds.  My sister signed on as Frenchy.  I had no problem securing a waiting list of Pink Ladies as every girl at one time or another has wanted to strut their stuff as a Pink Lady.  Except for Sharon and the tomboy contingency, obviously.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Contracts were signed, and a rehearsal schedule was set.  Yes, you read \"contracts\" correctly.  More about that in a minute. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I knew that I needed to write Olivia Newton-John pronto.  With the performance date lurking around six weeks away, her invitation needed to get to Australia ASAP. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I visualized Olivia sitting in the front row.  I would reserve her the best seat in the house -- or in this instance, the play would take place in the garage -- even if it meant my parents sacrificing their seats for her. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Mesmerized by my performance, Olivia would insist that my parents hire a private tutor so that I could follow her to Hollywood and star in her next musical.  As you may or may not recall (you are probably not as dorky as me), that next musical would have been <em>Xanadu</em> which makes me absolutely ga-ga when I ponder the what could have beens. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As fate would have it, my <em>Grease</em> dreams quickly crashed and burned around me.  My sister, as usual, started it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This time, it was a contract dispute.  The contract explicitly stated that the only excused absences from rehearsal were death of a family member or illness (with a doctor\'s note). </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Jenny (this was before her now cutesie-cool spelling of \"Jennie\") first claimed to have a sore throat, skipped out of rehearsal, and failed to produce a doctor\'s note.  Next, she refused to reschedule her conflicting piano lesson  and consequently received a second demerit.  Demerit #3 would equal a boot from the show, and an understudy was chomping at the bit to play Frenchy. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Jenny was pissed.  Always looking for an opportunity to get her big sister into trouble, she bitched incessantly to the rest of the cast and ultimately staged a mutiny. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was devastated.  I was back to playing Sandy to a crowd of stuffed animals in my bedroom. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>To make matters worse, I received a reply from Olivia.  My heart raced as I tore into the letter.  There was still hope!  I could assemble a brand new cast with that Pink Lady waiting list, woo Olivia with my talent, and escape from all of this elementary school mediocrity. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I devoured each and every word of that letter -- each and every word describing Olivia\'s love and committment to animals.  And since I was a hopelessly devoted to Olivia, would I please consider sending a donation to one of Olivia\'s animal charities? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I mailed Olivia my hopes and dreams, and she replied with a form letter.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Despite my extreme disappointment, I remained hopelessly devoted.  Being the little animal rights activist that I was, I am sure that I hit on my parents for a donation. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Fast forward 30 years, and although I am no longer <em>obsessed </em>with <em>Grease </em>-- that would go beyond dorky and be just plain creepy -- the movie and soundtrack holds a special place in my sentimental and nostalgic heart. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Have you heard about the <em>Grease Sing-Along</em> that was released this summer?  If it is not playing in your fair city, you can request it <a href=\"http://www.greasemovie.com/\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>here.</strong></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I convinced my friend, David, to go with me.  David is always up for a challenge.  My nickname for him is \"Captain Adventure\" as he jets off to remote and exotic locales to escape civilization a couple of times a year.   We\'re not talking about the sipping cocktails in a Fijian hut kind of ecape.  We\'re talking about side-stepping Komodo dragons, free diving with sharks, and swimming in alligator-infested waters kind of escape. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Obviously, David\'s masculinity is never in question, and thus he doesn\'t hesitate to sing along to \"There are Worse Things I Could Do\".  I think he may have drawn the line at \"Look at Me, I\'m Sandra Dee\" though.  Hey -- every man has his limitations. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I knew that on the 1-10 scale of fun-ness, the Sing-Along would more than likely rate a 9 or a 10.  But I\'m going to go ahead and give it a 20. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>We had a BLAST!  The theatre was nearly full, it wasn\'t just the chicks singing (the guys crooned along just as much), and it took me back.  Waaaaaayyyyy back to the happiest of childhood memories. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>My advice?  GO!  You will not be disappointed.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Wop baba lumop a wap bam boom!</strong></p>','Day 3:  Flashback Friday -- Grease Sing-Along','','inherit','open','open','','529-revision-9','','','2010-09-18 18:48:54','2010-09-19 01:48:54','',529,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/18/529-revision-9/',0,'revision','',0),(540,1,'2010-09-18 18:49:01','2010-09-19 01:49:01','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/grease.png\"><img class=\"alignleft size-full wp-image-530\" title=\"grease\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/grease.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"283\" height=\"182\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As a child, I was obsessed with the movie <em>Grease</em>.  And I do mean <em>obsessed.  </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><em> </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I listened to the soundtrack night and day.  I locked myself into my bedroom for countless renditions of \"Hopelessly Devoted to You\".  Hell -- I still sing it in the shower every now and then.  (I can\'t believe that I just admitted that.  I\'m such a dork.)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>When I was in 6th grade, I had the grand ambition of staging a neighborhood production of <em>Grease</em>.  Humble young thing that I was, I cast myself as Sandy.  Olivia Newton-John was my idol, and here was my chance to sing and dance in her footsteps. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Of course, none of the neighborhood boys wanted to be Danny, despite my assurances that there would be no real kissing.  Luckily, my next door neighbor, Sharon, happened to be a tomboy and wanted no part of parading around as a Pink Lady.  She volunteered to be Danny.  What a pal!</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>After much beggin, pleading, and probably bossing around on my part, the boys finally agreed to roles as T-Birds.  My sister signed on as Frenchy.  I had no problem securing a waiting list of Pink Ladies as every girl at one time or another has wanted to strut their stuff as a Pink Lady.  Except for Sharon and the tomboy contingency, obviously.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Contracts were signed, and a rehearsal schedule was set.  Yes, you read \"contracts\" correctly.  More about that in a minute. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I knew that I needed to write Olivia Newton-John pronto.  With the performance date lurking around six weeks away, her invitation needed to get to Australia ASAP. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I visualized Olivia sitting in the front row.  I would reserve her the best seat in the house -- or in this instance, the play would take place in the garage -- even if it meant my parents sacrificing their seats for her. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Mesmerized by my performance, Olivia would insist that my parents hire a private tutor so that I could follow her to Hollywood and star in her next musical.  As you may or may not recall (you are probably not as dorky as me), that next musical would have been <em>Xanadu</em> which makes me absolutely ga-ga when I ponder the what could have beens. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As fate would have it, my <em>Grease</em> dreams quickly crashed and burned around me.  My sister, as usual, started it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This time, it was a contract dispute.  The contract explicitly stated that the only excused absences from rehearsal were death of a family member or illness (with a doctor\'s note). </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Jenny (this was before her now cutesie-cool spelling of \"Jennie\") first claimed to have a sore throat, skipped out of rehearsal, and failed to produce a doctor\'s note.  Next, she refused to reschedule her conflicting piano lesson  and consequently received a second demerit.  Demerit #3 would equal a boot from the show, and an understudy was chomping at the bit to play Frenchy. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Jenny was pissed.  Always looking for an opportunity to get her big sister into trouble, she bitched incessantly to the rest of the cast and ultimately staged a mutiny. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was devastated.  I was back to playing Sandy to a crowd of stuffed animals in my bedroom. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>To make matters worse, I received a reply from Olivia.  My heart raced as I tore into the letter.  There was still hope!  I could assemble a brand new cast with that Pink Lady waiting list, woo Olivia with my talent, and escape from all of this elementary school mediocrity. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I devoured each and every word of that letter -- each and every word describing Olivia\'s love and committment to animals.  And since I was a hopelessly devoted to Olivia, would I please consider sending a donation to one of Olivia\'s animal charities? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I mailed Olivia my hopes and dreams, and she replied with a form letter.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Despite my extreme disappointment, I remained hopelessly devoted.  Being the little animal rights activist that I was, I am sure that I hit on my parents for a donation. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Fast forward 30 years, and although I am no longer <em>obsessed </em>with <em>Grease </em>-- that would go beyond dorky and be just plain creepy -- the movie and soundtrack holds a special place in my sentimental and nostalgic heart. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Have you heard about the <em>Grease Sing-Along</em> that was released this summer?  If it is not playing in your fair city, you can request it <a href=\"http://www.greasemovie.com/\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>here.</strong></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I convinced my friend, David, to go with me.  David is always up for a challenge.  My nickname for him is \"Captain Adventure\" as he jets off to remote and exotic locales to escape civilization a couple of times a year.   We\'re not talking about the sipping cocktails in a Fijian hut kind of ecape.  We\'re talking about side-stepping Komodo dragons, free diving with sharks, and swimming in alligator-infested waters kind of escape. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Obviously, David\'s masculinity is never in question, and thus he doesn\'t hesitate to sing along to \"There are Worse Things I Could Do\".  I think he may have drawn the line at \"Look at Me, I\'m Sandra Dee\" though.  Hey -- every man has his limitations. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I knew that on the 1-10 scale of fun-ness, the Sing-Along would more than likely rate a 9 or a 10.  But I\'m going to go ahead and give it a 20. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>We had a BLAST!  The theatre was nearly full, it wasn\'t just the chicks singing (the guys crooned along just as much), and it took me back.  Waaaaaayyyyy back to the happiest of childhood memories. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>My advice?  GO!  You will not be disappointed.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Wop baba lumop a wap bam boom!</strong></p>','Day 3:  Flashback Friday -- Grease Sing-Along','','inherit','open','open','','529-revision-10','','','2010-09-18 18:49:01','2010-09-19 01:49:01','',529,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/18/529-revision-10/',0,'revision','',0),(541,1,'2010-09-18 18:50:34','2010-09-19 01:50:34','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/grease.png\"><img class=\"alignleft size-full wp-image-530\" title=\"grease\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/grease.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"283\" height=\"182\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This past Friday night, I attended the <em>Grease Sing-Along.</em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As a child, I was obsessed with the movie <em>Grease</em>.  And I do mean <em>obsessed.  </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><em> </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I listened to the soundtrack night and day.  I locked myself into my bedroom for countless renditions of \"Hopelessly Devoted to You\".  Hell -- I still sing it in the shower every now and then.  (I can\'t believe that I just admitted that.  I\'m such a dork.)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>When I was in 6th grade, I had the grand ambition of staging a neighborhood production of <em>Grease</em>.  Humble young thing that I was, I cast myself as Sandy.  Olivia Newton-John was my idol, and here was my chance to sing and dance in her footsteps. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Of course, none of the neighborhood boys wanted to be Danny, despite my assurances that there would be no real kissing.  Luckily, my next door neighbor, Sharon, happened to be a tomboy and wanted no part of parading around as a Pink Lady.  She volunteered to be Danny.  What a pal!</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>After much beggin, pleading, and probably bossing around on my part, the boys finally agreed to roles as T-Birds.  My sister signed on as Frenchy.  I had no problem securing a waiting list of Pink Ladies as every girl at one time or another has wanted to strut their stuff as a Pink Lady.  Except for Sharon and the tomboy contingency, obviously.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Contracts were signed, and a rehearsal schedule was set.  Yes, you read \"contracts\" correctly.  More about that in a minute. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I knew that I needed to write Olivia Newton-John pronto.  With the performance date lurking around six weeks away, her invitation needed to get to Australia ASAP. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I visualized Olivia sitting in the front row.  I would reserve her the best seat in the house -- or in this instance, the play would take place in the garage -- even if it meant my parents sacrificing their seats for her. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Mesmerized by my performance, Olivia would insist that my parents hire a private tutor so that I could follow her to Hollywood and star in her next musical.  As you may or may not recall (you are probably not as dorky as me), that next musical would have been <em>Xanadu</em> which makes me absolutely ga-ga when I ponder the what could have beens. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As fate would have it, my <em>Grease</em> dreams quickly crashed and burned around me.  My sister, as usual, started it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This time, it was a contract dispute.  The contract explicitly stated that the only excused absences from rehearsal were death of a family member or illness (with a doctor\'s note). </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Jenny (this was before her now cutesie-cool spelling of \"Jennie\") first claimed to have a sore throat, skipped out of rehearsal, and failed to produce a doctor\'s note.  Next, she refused to reschedule her conflicting piano lesson  and consequently received a second demerit.  Demerit #3 would equal a boot from the show, and an understudy was chomping at the bit to play Frenchy. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Jenny was pissed.  Always looking for an opportunity to get her big sister into trouble, she bitched incessantly to the rest of the cast and ultimately staged a mutiny. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was devastated.  I was back to playing Sandy to a crowd of stuffed animals in my bedroom. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>To make matters worse, I received a reply from Olivia.  My heart raced as I tore into the letter.  There was still hope!  I could assemble a brand new cast with that Pink Lady waiting list, woo Olivia with my talent, and escape from all of this elementary school mediocrity. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I devoured each and every word of that letter -- each and every word describing Olivia\'s love and committment to animals.  And since I was a hopelessly devoted to Olivia, would I please consider sending a donation to one of Olivia\'s animal charities? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I mailed Olivia my hopes and dreams, and she replied with a form letter.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Despite my extreme disappointment, I remained hopelessly devoted.  Being the little animal rights activist that I was, I am sure that I hit on my parents for a donation. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Fast forward 30 years, and although I am no longer <em>obsessed </em>with <em>Grease </em>-- that would go beyond dorky and be just plain creepy -- the movie and soundtrack holds a special place in my sentimental and nostalgic heart. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Have you heard about the <em>Grease Sing-Along</em> that was released this summer?  If it is not playing in your fair city, you can request it <a href=\"http://www.greasemovie.com/\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>here.</strong></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I convinced my friend, David, to go with me.  David is always up for a challenge.  My nickname for him is \"Captain Adventure\" as he jets off to remote and exotic locales to escape civilization a couple of times a year.   We\'re not talking about the sipping cocktails in a Fijian hut kind of ecape.  We\'re talking about side-stepping Komodo dragons, free diving with sharks, and swimming in alligator-infested waters kind of escape. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Obviously, David\'s masculinity is never in question, and thus he doesn\'t hesitate to sing along to \"There are Worse Things I Could Do\".  I think he may have drawn the line at \"Look at Me, I\'m Sandra Dee\" though.  Hey -- every man has his limitations. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I knew that on the 1-10 scale of fun-ness, the Sing-Along would more than likely rate a 9 or a 10.  But I\'m going to go ahead and give it a 20. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>We had a BLAST!  The theatre was nearly full, it wasn\'t just the chicks singing (the guys crooned along just as much), and it took me back.  Waaaaaayyyyy back to the happiest of childhood memories. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>My advice?  GO!  You will not be disappointed.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Wop baba lumop a wap bam boom!</strong></p>','Day 3:  Flashback Friday -- Grease Sing-Along','','inherit','open','open','','529-revision-11','','','2010-09-18 18:50:34','2010-09-19 01:50:34','',529,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/18/529-revision-11/',0,'revision','',0),(542,1,'2010-09-18 18:50:40','2010-09-19 01:50:40','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/grease.png\"><img class=\"alignleft size-full wp-image-530\" title=\"grease\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/grease.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"283\" height=\"182\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This past Friday night, I attended the <em>Grease Sing-Along.</em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As a child, I was obsessed with the movie <em>Grease</em>.  And I do mean <em>obsessed.  </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><em> </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I listened to the soundtrack night and day.  I locked myself into my bedroom for countless renditions of \"Hopelessly Devoted to You\".  Hell -- I still sing it in the shower every now and then.  (I can\'t believe that I just admitted that.  I\'m such a dork.)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>When I was in 6th grade, I had the grand ambition of staging a neighborhood production of <em>Grease</em>.  Humble young thing that I was, I cast myself as Sandy.  Olivia Newton-John was my idol, and here was my chance to sing and dance in her footsteps. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Of course, none of the neighborhood boys wanted to be Danny, despite my assurances that there would be no real kissing.  Luckily, my next door neighbor, Sharon, happened to be a tomboy and wanted no part of parading around as a Pink Lady.  She volunteered to be Danny.  What a pal!</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>After much beggin, pleading, and probably bossing around on my part, the boys finally agreed to roles as T-Birds.  My sister signed on as Frenchy.  I had no problem securing a waiting list of Pink Ladies as every girl at one time or another has wanted to strut their stuff as a Pink Lady.  Except for Sharon and the tomboy contingency, obviously.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Contracts were signed, and a rehearsal schedule was set.  Yes, you read \"contracts\" correctly.  More about that in a minute. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I knew that I needed to write Olivia Newton-John pronto.  With the performance date lurking around six weeks away, her invitation needed to get to Australia ASAP. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I visualized Olivia sitting in the front row.  I would reserve her the best seat in the house -- or in this instance, the play would take place in the garage -- even if it meant my parents sacrificing their seats for her. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Mesmerized by my performance, Olivia would insist that my parents hire a private tutor so that I could follow her to Hollywood and star in her next musical.  As you may or may not recall (you are probably not as dorky as me), that next musical would have been <em>Xanadu</em> which makes me absolutely ga-ga when I ponder the what could have beens. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As fate would have it, my <em>Grease</em> dreams quickly crashed and burned around me.  My sister, as usual, started it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This time, it was a contract dispute.  The contract explicitly stated that the only excused absences from rehearsal were death of a family member or illness (with a doctor\'s note). </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Jenny (this was before her now cutesie-cool spelling of \"Jennie\") first claimed to have a sore throat, skipped out of rehearsal, and failed to produce a doctor\'s note.  Next, she refused to reschedule her conflicting piano lesson  and consequently received a second demerit.  Demerit #3 would equal a boot from the show, and an understudy was chomping at the bit to play Frenchy. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Jenny was pissed.  Always looking for an opportunity to get her big sister into trouble, she bitched incessantly to the rest of the cast and ultimately staged a mutiny. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was devastated.  I was back to playing Sandy to a crowd of stuffed animals in my bedroom. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>To make matters worse, I received a reply from Olivia.  My heart raced as I tore into the letter.  There was still hope!  I could assemble a brand new cast with that Pink Lady waiting list, woo Olivia with my talent, and escape from all of this elementary school mediocrity. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I devoured each and every word of that letter -- each and every word describing Olivia\'s love and committment to animals.  And since I was a hopelessly devoted to Olivia, would I please consider sending a donation to one of Olivia\'s animal charities? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I mailed Olivia my hopes and dreams, and she replied with a form letter.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Despite my extreme disappointment, I remained hopelessly devoted.  Being the little animal rights activist that I was, I am sure that I hit on my parents for a donation. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Fast forward 30 years, and although I am no longer <em>obsessed </em>with <em>Grease </em>-- that would go beyond dorky and be just plain creepy -- the movie and soundtrack holds a special place in my sentimental and nostalgic heart. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Have you heard about the <em>Grease Sing-Along</em> that was released this summer?  If it is not playing in your fair city, you can request it <a href=\"http://www.greasemovie.com/\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>here.</strong></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I convinced my friend, David, to go with me.  David is always up for a challenge.  My nickname for him is \"Captain Adventure\" as he jets off to remote and exotic locales to escape civilization a couple of times a year.   We\'re not talking about the sipping cocktails in a Fijian hut kind of ecape.  We\'re talking about side-stepping Komodo dragons, free diving with sharks, and swimming in alligator-infested waters kind of escape. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Obviously, David\'s masculinity is never in question, and thus he doesn\'t hesitate to sing along to \"There are Worse Things I Could Do\".  I think he may have drawn the line at \"Look at Me, I\'m Sandra Dee\" though.  Hey -- every man has his limitations. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I knew that on the 1-10 scale of fun-ness, the Sing-Along would more than likely rate a 9 or a 10.  But I\'m going to go ahead and give it a 20. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>We had a BLAST!  The theatre was nearly full, it wasn\'t just the chicks singing (the guys crooned along just as much), and it took me back.  Waaaaaayyyyy back to the happiest of childhood memories. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>My advice?  GO!  You will not be disappointed.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Wop baba lumop a wap bam boom!</strong></p>','Day 3:  Flashback Friday -- Grease Sing-Along','','inherit','open','open','','529-revision-12','','','2010-09-18 18:50:40','2010-09-19 01:50:40','',529,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/18/529-revision-12/',0,'revision','',0),(543,1,'2010-09-18 19:11:13','2010-09-19 02:11:13','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/grease.png\"><img class=\"alignleft size-full wp-image-530\" title=\"grease\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/grease.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"283\" height=\"182\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This past Friday night, I attended the <em>Grease Sing-Along.</em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As a child, I was obsessed with the movie <em>Grease</em>.  And I do mean <em>obsessed.  </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><em> </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I listened to the soundtrack night and day.  I locked myself into my bedroom for countless renditions of \"Hopelessly Devoted to You\".  Hell -- I still sing it in the shower every now and then.  (I can\'t believe I just admitted that.  What a dork.)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>When I was in 6th grade, I had the grand ambition of staging a neighborhood production of <em>Grease</em>.  Humble young thing that I was, I cast myself as Sandy.  Olivia Newton-John was my idol, and here was my chance to sing and dance in her footsteps. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Of course, none of the neighborhood boys wanted to take on the role of Danny, despite my assurances that there would be no real kissing.  Luckily, my next door neighbor, Sharon, happened to be a tomboy and wanted no part of parading around as a Pink Lady.  She volunteered to be Danny.  What a pal!</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>After much begging, pleading, and bossing around on my part, the boys finally agreed to roles as T-Birds.  My sister landed the role of Frenchy.  I had no problem securing a waiting list of Pink Ladies, as every girl has wanted to strut her stuff as a Pink Lady at one time or another.  Except for Sharon and the tomboy contingency, obviously.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Contracts were signed, and a rehearsal schedule was set.  (Yes, you read \"contracts\" correctly.  More about that in a minute.) </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I knew that I needed to write Olivia Newton-John immediately.  With the performance date lurking around six weeks away, her invitation needed to get to Australia ASAP. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I visualized Olivia sitting in the front row.  I would reserve her the best seat in the house -- or in this instance, the play would take place in the garage -- even if it meant my parents sacrificing their seats for her. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Mesmerized by my performance, Olivia would insist that my parents hire a private tutor so that I could follow her to Hollywood and star in her next musical.  As you may or may not recall (you are probably not as dorky as me), that next musical would have been <em>Xanadu </em>which makes me absolutely ga-ga when I ponder the what-could-have-beens. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As fate would have it, my <em>Grease</em> dreams quickly crashed and burned around me.  My sister, as usual, started it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This time, it was a contract dispute.  The contract explicitly stated that the only excused absences from rehearsal were death of a family member or illness (with a doctor\'s note). </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Jenny (this was before her now cutesie-cool spelling of \"Jennie\") first claimed to have a sore throat, skipped out of rehearsal, and failed to produce a doctor\'s note.  Next, she refused to reschedule her conflicting piano lesson  and consequently received a second demerit.  Demerit #3 would equal a boot from the show, and an understudy was chomping at the bit to play Frenchy. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Jenny was pissed.  Always looking for an opportunity to get her big sister into trouble, she bitched incessantly to the rest of the cast and ultimately staged a mutiny. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was devastated.  I was back to playing Sandy to a crowd of stuffed animals in my bedroom. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>To make matters worse, I received a reply from Olivia post-mutiny.  My heart raced as I tore into the letter.  Wait a minute -- There was still hope!  I could assemble a brand new cast with that Pink Lady waiting list, woo Olivia with my talent, and escape from all of this elementary school mediocrity. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I devoured each and every word of that letter -- each and every word describing Olivia\'s love and commitment to animals.  And since I was a hopelessly devoted fan of Olivia\'s, would I please consider sending a donation to one of her animal charities? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I mailed Olivia my hopes and dreams, and she replied with a form letter.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Despite my extreme disappointment, I remained hopelessly devoted.  Being the little animal rights activist that I was, I hit on my parents for a donation. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Fast forward 30 years, and although I am no longer <em>obsessed </em>with <em>Grease </em>--<em> </em>that would go way beyond dorky and be just plain creepy -- the movie and soundtrack still hold a special place in my sentimental and nostalgic heart. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Have you heard about the <em>Grease Sing-Along</em> that was released this summer?  If it is not playing in your fair city, you can request it <a href=\"http://www.greasemovie.com/\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>here.</strong></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I convinced my friend, David, to go with me.  David is always up for a challenge.  My nickname for him is \"Captain Adventure\", as he jets off to remote and exotic locales to escape civilization a couple of times a year.   We\'re not talking about the sipping cocktails in a Fijian hut kind of escape.  We\'re talking about side-stepping Komodo dragons, free diving with sharks, and swimming in alligator-infested waters kind of escape. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Obviously, David\'s masculinity is never in question, and thus he doesn\'t hesitate to sing along to \"There Are Worse Things I Could Do\".  I think he may have drawn the line at \"Look at Me, I\'m Sandra Dee\" though.  Hey -- every man has his limitations. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I knew that on the 1-10 scale of fun-ness, the Sing-Along would more than likely rate a 9 or a 10.  But I\'m going to go ahead and give it a 20. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>We had a BLAST!  The theater was nearly full, it wasn\'t just the chicks singing (the guys crooned along just as much), and it took me back.  Waaaaaayyyyy back to the happiest of childhood memories. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>My advice?  GO!  You will not be disappointed.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong><span style=\"color: #993300;\">Wop baba lumop a wap bam boom!</span></strong></p>','Day 3:  Flashback Friday -- Grease Sing-Along','','inherit','open','open','','529-revision-13','','','2010-09-18 19:11:13','2010-09-19 02:11:13','',529,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/18/529-revision-13/',0,'revision','',0),(544,1,'2010-09-18 19:19:38','2010-09-19 02:19:38','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/grease.png\"><img class=\"alignleft size-full wp-image-530\" title=\"grease\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/grease.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"283\" height=\"182\" /></a></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>This past Friday night, I attended the <em>Grease Sing-Along.</em></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>As a child, I was obsessed with the movie <em>Grease</em>.  And I do mean <em>obsessed.  </em></p>\r\n<p><em> </em></p>\r\n<p>I listened to the soundtrack night and day.  I locked myself into my bedroom for countless renditions of \"Hopelessly Devoted to You\".  Hell -- I still sing it in the shower every now and then.  (I can\'t believe I just admitted that.  Yes, I am a dork.)</p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>When I was in 6th grade, I had the grand ambition of staging a neighborhood production of <em>Grease</em>.  Humble young thing that I was, I cast myself as Sandy.  Olivia Newton-John was my idol, and here was my chance to sing and dance in her footsteps. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Of course, none of the neighborhood boys wanted to take on the role of Danny, despite my assurances that there would be no real kissing.  Luckily, my next door neighbor, Sharon, happened to be a tomboy and wanted no part of parading around as a Pink Lady.  She volunteered to be Danny.  What a pal!</p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>After much begging, pleading, and bossing around on my part, the boys finally agreed to roles as T-Birds.  My sister landed the role of Frenchy.  I had no problem securing a waiting list of Pink Ladies, as every girl has wanted to strut her stuff as a Pink Lady at one time or another.  Except for Sharon and the tomboy contingency, obviously.</p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Contracts were signed, and a rehearsal schedule was set.  (Yes, you read \"contracts\" correctly.  More about that in a minute.) </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>I knew that I needed to write Olivia Newton-John immediately.  With the performance date lurking around six weeks away, her invitation needed to get to Australia ASAP. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>I visualized Olivia sitting in the front row.  I would reserve her the best seat in the house -- or in this instance, the play would take place in the garage -- even if it meant my parents sacrificing their seats for her. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Mesmerized by my performance, Olivia would insist that my parents hire a private tutor so that I could follow her to Hollywood and star in her next musical.  As you may or may not recall (you are probably not as dorky as me), that next musical would have been <em>Xanadu </em>which makes me absolutely ga-ga when I ponder the what-could-have-beens. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>As fate would have it, my <em>Grease</em> dreams quickly crashed and burned around me.  My sister, as usual, started it. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>This time, it was a contract dispute.  The contract explicitly stated that the only excused absences from rehearsal were death of a family member or illness (with a doctor\'s note). </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Jenny (this was before her now cutesie-cool spelling of \"Jennie\") first claimed to have a sore throat, skipped out of rehearsal, and failed to produce a doctor\'s note.  Next, she refused to reschedule her conflicting piano lesson  and consequently received a second demerit.  Demerit #3 would equal a boot from the show, and an understudy was chomping at the bit to play Frenchy. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Jenny was pissed.  Always looking for an opportunity to get her big sister into trouble, she bitched incessantly to the rest of the cast and ultimately staged a mutiny. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>I was devastated.  I was back to playing Sandy to a crowd of stuffed animals in my bedroom. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>To make matters worse, I received a reply from Olivia post-mutiny.  My heart raced as I tore into the letter.  Wait a minute -- There was still hope!  I could assemble a brand new cast with that Pink Lady waiting list, woo Olivia with my talent, and escape from all of this elementary school mediocrity. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>I devoured each and every word of that letter -- each and every word describing Olivia\'s love and commitment to animals.  And since I was a hopelessly devoted fan of Olivia\'s, would I please consider sending a donation to one of her animal charities? </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>I mailed Olivia my hopes and dreams, and she replied with a form letter.</p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Despite my extreme disappointment, I remained hopelessly devoted.  Being the little animal rights activist that I was, I hit up my parents for a donation. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Fast forward 30 years, and although I am no longer <em>obsessed </em>with <em>Grease </em>--<em> </em>that would go way beyond dorky and be just plain creepy -- the movie and soundtrack still hold a special place in my sentimental and nostalgic heart. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Have you heard about the <em>Grease Sing-Along</em> that was released this summer?  If it is not playing in your fair city, you can request it <a href=\"http://www.greasemovie.com/\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>here.</strong></a> </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>I convinced my friend, David, to go with me.  David is always up for a challenge.  My nickname for him is \"Captain Adventure\", as he jets off to remote and exotic locales to escape civilization a couple of times a year.   We\'re not talking about the sipping cocktails in a Fijian hut kind of escape.  We\'re talking about side-stepping Komodo dragons, free diving with sharks, and swimming in alligator-infested waters kind of escape. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Obviously, David\'s masculinity is never in question, and thus he doesn\'t hesitate to sing along to \"There Are Worse Things I Could Do\".  I think he may have drawn the line at \"Look at Me, I\'m Sandra Dee\" though.  Hey -- every man has his limitations. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>I knew that on the 1-10 scale of fun-ness, the Sing-Along would more than likely rate a 9 or a 10.  But I\'m going to go ahead and give it a 20. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>We had a BLAST!  The theater was nearly full, it wasn\'t just the chicks singing (the guys crooned along just as much), and it took me back.  Waaaaaayyyyy back to the happiest of childhood memories. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>My advice?  GO!  You will not be disappointed.</p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>The cleverly crafted sing-along animation will even teach you how to hand jive.  You know you want to. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><strong><span style=\"color: #993300;\">Wop baba lumop a wap bam boom!</span></strong></p>\r\n','Day 3:  Flashback Friday -- Grease Sing-Along','','inherit','open','open','','529-autosave','','','2010-09-18 19:19:38','2010-09-19 02:19:38','',529,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/18/529-autosave/',0,'revision','',0),(545,1,'2010-09-18 19:11:42','2010-09-19 02:11:42','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/grease.png\"><img class=\"alignleft size-full wp-image-530\" title=\"grease\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/grease.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"283\" height=\"182\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This past Friday night, I attended the <em>Grease Sing-Along.</em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As a child, I was obsessed with the movie <em>Grease</em>.  And I do mean <em>obsessed.  </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><em> </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I listened to the soundtrack night and day.  I locked myself into my bedroom for countless renditions of \"Hopelessly Devoted to You\".  Hell -- I still sing it in the shower every now and then.  (I can\'t believe I just admitted that.  What a dork.)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>When I was in 6th grade, I had the grand ambition of staging a neighborhood production of <em>Grease</em>.  Humble young thing that I was, I cast myself as Sandy.  Olivia Newton-John was my idol, and here was my chance to sing and dance in her footsteps. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Of course, none of the neighborhood boys wanted to take on the role of Danny, despite my assurances that there would be no real kissing.  Luckily, my next door neighbor, Sharon, happened to be a tomboy and wanted no part of parading around as a Pink Lady.  She volunteered to be Danny.  What a pal!</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>After much begging, pleading, and bossing around on my part, the boys finally agreed to roles as T-Birds.  My sister landed the role of Frenchy.  I had no problem securing a waiting list of Pink Ladies, as every girl has wanted to strut her stuff as a Pink Lady at one time or another.  Except for Sharon and the tomboy contingency, obviously.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Contracts were signed, and a rehearsal schedule was set.  (Yes, you read \"contracts\" correctly.  More about that in a minute.) </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I knew that I needed to write Olivia Newton-John immediately.  With the performance date lurking around six weeks away, her invitation needed to get to Australia ASAP. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I visualized Olivia sitting in the front row.  I would reserve her the best seat in the house -- or in this instance, the play would take place in the garage -- even if it meant my parents sacrificing their seats for her. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Mesmerized by my performance, Olivia would insist that my parents hire a private tutor so that I could follow her to Hollywood and star in her next musical.  As you may or may not recall (you are probably not as dorky as me), that next musical would have been <em>Xanadu </em>which makes me absolutely ga-ga when I ponder the what-could-have-beens. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As fate would have it, my <em>Grease</em> dreams quickly crashed and burned around me.  My sister, as usual, started it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This time, it was a contract dispute.  The contract explicitly stated that the only excused absences from rehearsal were death of a family member or illness (with a doctor\'s note). </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Jenny (this was before her now cutesie-cool spelling of \"Jennie\") first claimed to have a sore throat, skipped out of rehearsal, and failed to produce a doctor\'s note.  Next, she refused to reschedule her conflicting piano lesson  and consequently received a second demerit.  Demerit #3 would equal a boot from the show, and an understudy was chomping at the bit to play Frenchy. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Jenny was pissed.  Always looking for an opportunity to get her big sister into trouble, she bitched incessantly to the rest of the cast and ultimately staged a mutiny. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was devastated.  I was back to playing Sandy to a crowd of stuffed animals in my bedroom. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>To make matters worse, I received a reply from Olivia post-mutiny.  My heart raced as I tore into the letter.  Wait a minute -- There was still hope!  I could assemble a brand new cast with that Pink Lady waiting list, woo Olivia with my talent, and escape from all of this elementary school mediocrity. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I devoured each and every word of that letter -- each and every word describing Olivia\'s love and commitment to animals.  And since I was a hopelessly devoted fan of Olivia\'s, would I please consider sending a donation to one of her animal charities? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I mailed Olivia my hopes and dreams, and she replied with a form letter.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Despite my extreme disappointment, I remained hopelessly devoted.  Being the little animal rights activist that I was, I hit on my parents for a donation. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Fast forward 30 years, and although I am no longer <em>obsessed </em>with <em>Grease </em>--<em> </em>that would go way beyond dorky and be just plain creepy -- the movie and soundtrack still hold a special place in my sentimental and nostalgic heart. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Have you heard about the <em>Grease Sing-Along</em> that was released this summer?  If it is not playing in your fair city, you can request it <a href=\"http://www.greasemovie.com/\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>here.</strong></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I convinced my friend, David, to go with me.  David is always up for a challenge.  My nickname for him is \"Captain Adventure\", as he jets off to remote and exotic locales to escape civilization a couple of times a year.   We\'re not talking about the sipping cocktails in a Fijian hut kind of escape.  We\'re talking about side-stepping Komodo dragons, free diving with sharks, and swimming in alligator-infested waters kind of escape. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Obviously, David\'s masculinity is never in question, and thus he doesn\'t hesitate to sing along to \"There Are Worse Things I Could Do\".  I think he may have drawn the line at \"Look at Me, I\'m Sandra Dee\" though.  Hey -- every man has his limitations. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I knew that on the 1-10 scale of fun-ness, the Sing-Along would more than likely rate a 9 or a 10.  But I\'m going to go ahead and give it a 20. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>We had a BLAST!  The theater was nearly full, it wasn\'t just the chicks singing (the guys crooned along just as much), and it took me back.  Waaaaaayyyyy back to the happiest of childhood memories. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>My advice?  GO!  You will not be disappointed.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong><span style=\"color: #993300;\">Wop baba lumop a wap bam boom!</span></strong></p>','Day 3:  Flashback Friday -- Grease Sing-Along','','inherit','open','open','','529-revision-14','','','2010-09-18 19:11:42','2010-09-19 02:11:42','',529,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/18/529-revision-14/',0,'revision','',0),(547,1,'2010-09-18 19:15:25','2010-09-19 02:15:25','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/grease.png\"><img class=\"alignleft size-full wp-image-530\" title=\"grease\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/grease.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"283\" height=\"182\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This past Friday night, I attended the <em>Grease Sing-Along.</em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As a child, I was obsessed with the movie <em>Grease</em>.  And I do mean <em>obsessed.  </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><em> </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I listened to the soundtrack night and day.  I locked myself into my bedroom for countless renditions of \"Hopelessly Devoted to You\".  Hell -- I still sing it in the shower every now and then.  (I can\'t believe I just admitted that.  Yes, I am a dork.)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>When I was in 6th grade, I had the grand ambition of staging a neighborhood production of <em>Grease</em>.  Humble young thing that I was, I cast myself as Sandy.  Olivia Newton-John was my idol, and here was my chance to sing and dance in her footsteps. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Of course, none of the neighborhood boys wanted to take on the role of Danny, despite my assurances that there would be no real kissing.  Luckily, my next door neighbor, Sharon, happened to be a tomboy and wanted no part of parading around as a Pink Lady.  She volunteered to be Danny.  What a pal!</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>After much begging, pleading, and bossing around on my part, the boys finally agreed to roles as T-Birds.  My sister landed the role of Frenchy.  I had no problem securing a waiting list of Pink Ladies, as every girl has wanted to strut her stuff as a Pink Lady at one time or another.  Except for Sharon and the tomboy contingency, obviously.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Contracts were signed, and a rehearsal schedule was set.  (Yes, you read \"contracts\" correctly.  More about that in a minute.) </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I knew that I needed to write Olivia Newton-John immediately.  With the performance date lurking around six weeks away, her invitation needed to get to Australia ASAP. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I visualized Olivia sitting in the front row.  I would reserve her the best seat in the house -- or in this instance, the play would take place in the garage -- even if it meant my parents sacrificing their seats for her. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Mesmerized by my performance, Olivia would insist that my parents hire a private tutor so that I could follow her to Hollywood and star in her next musical.  As you may or may not recall (you are probably not as dorky as me), that next musical would have been <em>Xanadu </em>which makes me absolutely ga-ga when I ponder the what-could-have-beens. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As fate would have it, my <em>Grease</em> dreams quickly crashed and burned around me.  My sister, as usual, started it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This time, it was a contract dispute.  The contract explicitly stated that the only excused absences from rehearsal were death of a family member or illness (with a doctor\'s note). </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Jenny (this was before her now cutesie-cool spelling of \"Jennie\") first claimed to have a sore throat, skipped out of rehearsal, and failed to produce a doctor\'s note.  Next, she refused to reschedule her conflicting piano lesson  and consequently received a second demerit.  Demerit #3 would equal a boot from the show, and an understudy was chomping at the bit to play Frenchy. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Jenny was pissed.  Always looking for an opportunity to get her big sister into trouble, she bitched incessantly to the rest of the cast and ultimately staged a mutiny. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was devastated.  I was back to playing Sandy to a crowd of stuffed animals in my bedroom. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>To make matters worse, I received a reply from Olivia post-mutiny.  My heart raced as I tore into the letter.  Wait a minute -- There was still hope!  I could assemble a brand new cast with that Pink Lady waiting list, woo Olivia with my talent, and escape from all of this elementary school mediocrity. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I devoured each and every word of that letter -- each and every word describing Olivia\'s love and commitment to animals.  And since I was a hopelessly devoted fan of Olivia\'s, would I please consider sending a donation to one of her animal charities? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I mailed Olivia my hopes and dreams, and she replied with a form letter.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Despite my extreme disappointment, I remained hopelessly devoted.  Being the little animal rights activist that I was, I hit up my parents for a donation. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Fast forward 30 years, and although I am no longer <em>obsessed </em>with <em>Grease </em>--<em> </em>that would go way beyond dorky and be just plain creepy -- the movie and soundtrack still hold a special place in my sentimental and nostalgic heart. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Have you heard about the <em>Grease Sing-Along</em> that was released this summer?  If it is not playing in your fair city, you can request it <a href=\"http://www.greasemovie.com/\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>here.</strong></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I convinced my friend, David, to go with me.  David is always up for a challenge.  My nickname for him is \"Captain Adventure\", as he jets off to remote and exotic locales to escape civilization a couple of times a year.   We\'re not talking about the sipping cocktails in a Fijian hut kind of escape.  We\'re talking about side-stepping Komodo dragons, free diving with sharks, and swimming in alligator-infested waters kind of escape. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Obviously, David\'s masculinity is never in question, and thus he doesn\'t hesitate to sing along to \"There Are Worse Things I Could Do\".  I think he may have drawn the line at \"Look at Me, I\'m Sandra Dee\" though.  Hey -- every man has his limitations. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I knew that on the 1-10 scale of fun-ness, the Sing-Along would more than likely rate a 9 or a 10.  But I\'m going to go ahead and give it a 20. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>We had a BLAST!  The theater was nearly full, it wasn\'t just the chicks singing (the guys crooned along just as much), and it took me back.  Waaaaaayyyyy back to the happiest of childhood memories. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>My advice?  GO!  You will not be disappointed.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong><span style=\"color: #993300;\">Wop baba lumop a wap bam boom!</span></strong></p>','Day 3:  Flashback Friday -- Grease Sing-Along','','inherit','open','open','','529-revision-16','','','2010-09-18 19:15:25','2010-09-19 02:15:25','',529,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/18/529-revision-16/',0,'revision','',0),(546,1,'2010-09-18 19:12:28','2010-09-19 02:12:28','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/grease.png\"><img class=\"alignleft size-full wp-image-530\" title=\"grease\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/grease.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"283\" height=\"182\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This past Friday night, I attended the <em>Grease Sing-Along.</em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As a child, I was obsessed with the movie <em>Grease</em>.  And I do mean <em>obsessed.  </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><em> </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I listened to the soundtrack night and day.  I locked myself into my bedroom for countless renditions of \"Hopelessly Devoted to You\".  Hell -- I still sing it in the shower every now and then.  (I can\'t believe I just admitted that.  Yes, I am a dork.)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>When I was in 6th grade, I had the grand ambition of staging a neighborhood production of <em>Grease</em>.  Humble young thing that I was, I cast myself as Sandy.  Olivia Newton-John was my idol, and here was my chance to sing and dance in her footsteps. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Of course, none of the neighborhood boys wanted to take on the role of Danny, despite my assurances that there would be no real kissing.  Luckily, my next door neighbor, Sharon, happened to be a tomboy and wanted no part of parading around as a Pink Lady.  She volunteered to be Danny.  What a pal!</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>After much begging, pleading, and bossing around on my part, the boys finally agreed to roles as T-Birds.  My sister landed the role of Frenchy.  I had no problem securing a waiting list of Pink Ladies, as every girl has wanted to strut her stuff as a Pink Lady at one time or another.  Except for Sharon and the tomboy contingency, obviously.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Contracts were signed, and a rehearsal schedule was set.  (Yes, you read \"contracts\" correctly.  More about that in a minute.) </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I knew that I needed to write Olivia Newton-John immediately.  With the performance date lurking around six weeks away, her invitation needed to get to Australia ASAP. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I visualized Olivia sitting in the front row.  I would reserve her the best seat in the house -- or in this instance, the play would take place in the garage -- even if it meant my parents sacrificing their seats for her. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Mesmerized by my performance, Olivia would insist that my parents hire a private tutor so that I could follow her to Hollywood and star in her next musical.  As you may or may not recall (you are probably not as dorky as me), that next musical would have been <em>Xanadu </em>which makes me absolutely ga-ga when I ponder the what-could-have-beens. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As fate would have it, my <em>Grease</em> dreams quickly crashed and burned around me.  My sister, as usual, started it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This time, it was a contract dispute.  The contract explicitly stated that the only excused absences from rehearsal were death of a family member or illness (with a doctor\'s note). </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Jenny (this was before her now cutesie-cool spelling of \"Jennie\") first claimed to have a sore throat, skipped out of rehearsal, and failed to produce a doctor\'s note.  Next, she refused to reschedule her conflicting piano lesson  and consequently received a second demerit.  Demerit #3 would equal a boot from the show, and an understudy was chomping at the bit to play Frenchy. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Jenny was pissed.  Always looking for an opportunity to get her big sister into trouble, she bitched incessantly to the rest of the cast and ultimately staged a mutiny. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was devastated.  I was back to playing Sandy to a crowd of stuffed animals in my bedroom. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>To make matters worse, I received a reply from Olivia post-mutiny.  My heart raced as I tore into the letter.  Wait a minute -- There was still hope!  I could assemble a brand new cast with that Pink Lady waiting list, woo Olivia with my talent, and escape from all of this elementary school mediocrity. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I devoured each and every word of that letter -- each and every word describing Olivia\'s love and commitment to animals.  And since I was a hopelessly devoted fan of Olivia\'s, would I please consider sending a donation to one of her animal charities? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I mailed Olivia my hopes and dreams, and she replied with a form letter.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Despite my extreme disappointment, I remained hopelessly devoted.  Being the little animal rights activist that I was, I hit on my parents for a donation. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Fast forward 30 years, and although I am no longer <em>obsessed </em>with <em>Grease </em>--<em> </em>that would go way beyond dorky and be just plain creepy -- the movie and soundtrack still hold a special place in my sentimental and nostalgic heart. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Have you heard about the <em>Grease Sing-Along</em> that was released this summer?  If it is not playing in your fair city, you can request it <a href=\"http://www.greasemovie.com/\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>here.</strong></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I convinced my friend, David, to go with me.  David is always up for a challenge.  My nickname for him is \"Captain Adventure\", as he jets off to remote and exotic locales to escape civilization a couple of times a year.   We\'re not talking about the sipping cocktails in a Fijian hut kind of escape.  We\'re talking about side-stepping Komodo dragons, free diving with sharks, and swimming in alligator-infested waters kind of escape. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Obviously, David\'s masculinity is never in question, and thus he doesn\'t hesitate to sing along to \"There Are Worse Things I Could Do\".  I think he may have drawn the line at \"Look at Me, I\'m Sandra Dee\" though.  Hey -- every man has his limitations. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I knew that on the 1-10 scale of fun-ness, the Sing-Along would more than likely rate a 9 or a 10.  But I\'m going to go ahead and give it a 20. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>We had a BLAST!  The theater was nearly full, it wasn\'t just the chicks singing (the guys crooned along just as much), and it took me back.  Waaaaaayyyyy back to the happiest of childhood memories. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>My advice?  GO!  You will not be disappointed.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong><span style=\"color: #993300;\">Wop baba lumop a wap bam boom!</span></strong></p>','Day 3:  Flashback Friday -- Grease Sing-Along','','inherit','open','open','','529-revision-15','','','2010-09-18 19:12:28','2010-09-19 02:12:28','',529,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/18/529-revision-15/',0,'revision','',0),(548,1,'2010-09-18 19:18:19','2010-09-19 02:18:19','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/grease.png\"><img class=\"alignleft size-full wp-image-530\" title=\"grease\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/grease.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"283\" height=\"182\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This past Friday night, I attended the <em>Grease Sing-Along.</em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As a child, I was obsessed with the movie <em>Grease</em>.  And I do mean <em>obsessed.  </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><em> </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I listened to the soundtrack night and day.  I locked myself into my bedroom for countless renditions of \"Hopelessly Devoted to You\".  Hell -- I still sing it in the shower every now and then.  (I can\'t believe I just admitted that.  Yes, I am a dork.)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>When I was in 6th grade, I had the grand ambition of staging a neighborhood production of <em>Grease</em>.  Humble young thing that I was, I cast myself as Sandy.  Olivia Newton-John was my idol, and here was my chance to sing and dance in her footsteps. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Of course, none of the neighborhood boys wanted to take on the role of Danny, despite my assurances that there would be no real kissing.  Luckily, my next door neighbor, Sharon, happened to be a tomboy and wanted no part of parading around as a Pink Lady.  She volunteered to be Danny.  What a pal!</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>After much begging, pleading, and bossing around on my part, the boys finally agreed to roles as T-Birds.  My sister landed the role of Frenchy.  I had no problem securing a waiting list of Pink Ladies, as every girl has wanted to strut her stuff as a Pink Lady at one time or another.  Except for Sharon and the tomboy contingency, obviously.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Contracts were signed, and a rehearsal schedule was set.  (Yes, you read \"contracts\" correctly.  More about that in a minute.) </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I knew that I needed to write Olivia Newton-John immediately.  With the performance date lurking around six weeks away, her invitation needed to get to Australia ASAP. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I visualized Olivia sitting in the front row.  I would reserve her the best seat in the house -- or in this instance, the play would take place in the garage -- even if it meant my parents sacrificing their seats for her. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Mesmerized by my performance, Olivia would insist that my parents hire a private tutor so that I could follow her to Hollywood and star in her next musical.  As you may or may not recall (you are probably not as dorky as me), that next musical would have been <em>Xanadu </em>which makes me absolutely ga-ga when I ponder the what-could-have-beens. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As fate would have it, my <em>Grease</em> dreams quickly crashed and burned around me.  My sister, as usual, started it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This time, it was a contract dispute.  The contract explicitly stated that the only excused absences from rehearsal were death of a family member or illness (with a doctor\'s note). </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Jenny (this was before her now cutesie-cool spelling of \"Jennie\") first claimed to have a sore throat, skipped out of rehearsal, and failed to produce a doctor\'s note.  Next, she refused to reschedule her conflicting piano lesson  and consequently received a second demerit.  Demerit #3 would equal a boot from the show, and an understudy was chomping at the bit to play Frenchy. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Jenny was pissed.  Always looking for an opportunity to get her big sister into trouble, she bitched incessantly to the rest of the cast and ultimately staged a mutiny. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was devastated.  I was back to playing Sandy to a crowd of stuffed animals in my bedroom. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>To make matters worse, I received a reply from Olivia post-mutiny.  My heart raced as I tore into the letter.  Wait a minute -- There was still hope!  I could assemble a brand new cast with that Pink Lady waiting list, woo Olivia with my talent, and escape from all of this elementary school mediocrity. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I devoured each and every word of that letter -- each and every word describing Olivia\'s love and commitment to animals.  And since I was a hopelessly devoted fan of Olivia\'s, would I please consider sending a donation to one of her animal charities? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I mailed Olivia my hopes and dreams, and she replied with a form letter.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Despite my extreme disappointment, I remained hopelessly devoted.  Being the little animal rights activist that I was, I hit up my parents for a donation. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Fast forward 30 years, and although I am no longer <em>obsessed </em>with <em>Grease </em>--<em> </em>that would go way beyond dorky and be just plain creepy -- the movie and soundtrack still hold a special place in my sentimental and nostalgic heart. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Have you heard about the <em>Grease Sing-Along</em> that was released this summer?  If it is not playing in your fair city, you can request it <a href=\"http://www.greasemovie.com/\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>here.</strong></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I convinced my friend, David, to go with me.  David is always up for a challenge.  My nickname for him is \"Captain Adventure\", as he jets off to remote and exotic locales to escape civilization a couple of times a year.   We\'re not talking about the sipping cocktails in a Fijian hut kind of escape.  We\'re talking about side-stepping Komodo dragons, free diving with sharks, and swimming in alligator-infested waters kind of escape. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Obviously, David\'s masculinity is never in question, and thus he doesn\'t hesitate to sing along to \"There Are Worse Things I Could Do\".  I think he may have drawn the line at \"Look at Me, I\'m Sandra Dee\" though.  Hey -- every man has his limitations. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I knew that on the 1-10 scale of fun-ness, the Sing-Along would more than likely rate a 9 or a 10.  But I\'m going to go ahead and give it a 20. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>We had a BLAST!  The theater was nearly full, it wasn\'t just the chicks singing (the guys crooned along just as much), and it took me back.  Waaaaaayyyyy back to the happiest of childhood memories. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>My advice?  GO!  You will not be disappointed.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>The cleverly crafted sing-along animation will even teach you how to hand-jive. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong><span style=\"color: #993300;\">Wop baba lumop a wap bam boom!</span></strong></p>','Day 3:  Flashback Friday -- Grease Sing-Along','','inherit','open','open','','529-revision-17','','','2010-09-18 19:18:19','2010-09-19 02:18:19','',529,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/18/529-revision-17/',0,'revision','',0),(549,1,'2010-09-18 19:19:33','2010-09-19 02:19:33','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/grease.png\"><img class=\"alignleft size-full wp-image-530\" title=\"grease\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/grease.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"283\" height=\"182\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This past Friday night, I attended the <em>Grease Sing-Along.</em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As a child, I was obsessed with the movie <em>Grease</em>.  And I do mean <em>obsessed.  </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><em> </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I listened to the soundtrack night and day.  I locked myself into my bedroom for countless renditions of \"Hopelessly Devoted to You\".  Hell -- I still sing it in the shower every now and then.  (I can\'t believe I just admitted that.  Yes, I am a dork.)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>When I was in 6th grade, I had the grand ambition of staging a neighborhood production of <em>Grease</em>.  Humble young thing that I was, I cast myself as Sandy.  Olivia Newton-John was my idol, and here was my chance to sing and dance in her footsteps. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Of course, none of the neighborhood boys wanted to take on the role of Danny, despite my assurances that there would be no real kissing.  Luckily, my next door neighbor, Sharon, happened to be a tomboy and wanted no part of parading around as a Pink Lady.  She volunteered to be Danny.  What a pal!</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>After much begging, pleading, and bossing around on my part, the boys finally agreed to roles as T-Birds.  My sister landed the role of Frenchy.  I had no problem securing a waiting list of Pink Ladies, as every girl has wanted to strut her stuff as a Pink Lady at one time or another.  Except for Sharon and the tomboy contingency, obviously.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Contracts were signed, and a rehearsal schedule was set.  (Yes, you read \"contracts\" correctly.  More about that in a minute.) </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I knew that I needed to write Olivia Newton-John immediately.  With the performance date lurking around six weeks away, her invitation needed to get to Australia ASAP. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I visualized Olivia sitting in the front row.  I would reserve her the best seat in the house -- or in this instance, the play would take place in the garage -- even if it meant my parents sacrificing their seats for her. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Mesmerized by my performance, Olivia would insist that my parents hire a private tutor so that I could follow her to Hollywood and star in her next musical.  As you may or may not recall (you are probably not as dorky as me), that next musical would have been <em>Xanadu </em>which makes me absolutely ga-ga when I ponder the what-could-have-beens. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As fate would have it, my <em>Grease</em> dreams quickly crashed and burned around me.  My sister, as usual, started it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This time, it was a contract dispute.  The contract explicitly stated that the only excused absences from rehearsal were death of a family member or illness (with a doctor\'s note). </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Jenny (this was before her now cutesie-cool spelling of \"Jennie\") first claimed to have a sore throat, skipped out of rehearsal, and failed to produce a doctor\'s note.  Next, she refused to reschedule her conflicting piano lesson  and consequently received a second demerit.  Demerit #3 would equal a boot from the show, and an understudy was chomping at the bit to play Frenchy. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Jenny was pissed.  Always looking for an opportunity to get her big sister into trouble, she bitched incessantly to the rest of the cast and ultimately staged a mutiny. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was devastated.  I was back to playing Sandy to a crowd of stuffed animals in my bedroom. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>To make matters worse, I received a reply from Olivia post-mutiny.  My heart raced as I tore into the letter.  Wait a minute -- There was still hope!  I could assemble a brand new cast with that Pink Lady waiting list, woo Olivia with my talent, and escape from all of this elementary school mediocrity. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I devoured each and every word of that letter -- each and every word describing Olivia\'s love and commitment to animals.  And since I was a hopelessly devoted fan of Olivia\'s, would I please consider sending a donation to one of her animal charities? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I mailed Olivia my hopes and dreams, and she replied with a form letter.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Despite my extreme disappointment, I remained hopelessly devoted.  Being the little animal rights activist that I was, I hit up my parents for a donation. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Fast forward 30 years, and although I am no longer <em>obsessed </em>with <em>Grease </em>--<em> </em>that would go way beyond dorky and be just plain creepy -- the movie and soundtrack still hold a special place in my sentimental and nostalgic heart. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Have you heard about the <em>Grease Sing-Along</em> that was released this summer?  If it is not playing in your fair city, you can request it <a href=\"http://www.greasemovie.com/\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>here.</strong></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I convinced my friend, David, to go with me.  David is always up for a challenge.  My nickname for him is \"Captain Adventure\", as he jets off to remote and exotic locales to escape civilization a couple of times a year.   We\'re not talking about the sipping cocktails in a Fijian hut kind of escape.  We\'re talking about side-stepping Komodo dragons, free diving with sharks, and swimming in alligator-infested waters kind of escape. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Obviously, David\'s masculinity is never in question, and thus he doesn\'t hesitate to sing along to \"There Are Worse Things I Could Do\".  I think he may have drawn the line at \"Look at Me, I\'m Sandra Dee\" though.  Hey -- every man has his limitations. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I knew that on the 1-10 scale of fun-ness, the Sing-Along would more than likely rate a 9 or a 10.  But I\'m going to go ahead and give it a 20. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>We had a BLAST!  The theater was nearly full, it wasn\'t just the chicks singing (the guys crooned along just as much), and it took me back.  Waaaaaayyyyy back to the happiest of childhood memories. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>My advice?  GO!  You will not be disappointed.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>The cleverly crafted sing-along animation will even teach you how to hand jive.  You know you want to. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong><span style=\"color: #993300;\">Wop baba lumop a wap bam boom!</span></strong></p>','Day 3:  Flashback Friday -- Grease Sing-Along','','inherit','open','open','','529-revision-18','','','2010-09-18 19:19:33','2010-09-19 02:19:33','',529,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/18/529-revision-18/',0,'revision','',0),(550,1,'2010-09-18 08:46:46','2010-09-18 15:46:46','<div class=\"mceTemp\">\r\n<dl id=\"attachment_435\" class=\"wp-caption alignleft\" style=\"width: 310px;\">\r\n<dt class=\"wp-caption-dt\"><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P91601661.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-435\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P91601661-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a></dt>\r\n<dd class=\"wp-caption-dd\">Just another day in paradise</dd>\r\n</dl>\r\n<p>Some of you asked me on Wednesday, \"So what was your Day 1 adventure?\"  My reply is, \"Launching a big girl blog!\"</p>\r\n</div>\r\n<p><br/></p>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\">Holy Learning Curve, Batman! </div>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\"> </div>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\">If you snuck a peek at my <strong><a href=\"http://latebloomerdiary.blogspot.com\" target=\"_blank\">old blog,</a></strong>you probably noticed that I\'ve come a loooooong way, baby!  Wahoo!  Thanks to everyone for your support and well wishes these past few days.  Your response has been the best birthday present that a Late Bloomer could ask for. </div>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\"> </div>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\">\r\n<br/>\r\n<p>On Day 2 I actually left my house for a Zen adventure. </p>\r\n</div>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\"> </div>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\">My precious and darling friend, Corinnie (her name is Corinne, but I address most of my friends by silly nicknames), invited me to a Summer Sunset Yoga class at the Montelucia Resort which is a divine escape, let me tell you, dahlings.  I have always wanted to take a yoga class outside in nature, so I was over-the-moon about this all day.</div>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\"> </div>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\">Class was scheduled for 6:30 which meant I had to zip out of the cubicle jungle, haul my cookies across town, and -- horror of all horrors -- skip dinner.  When you are raised in a neurotic Portuguese family whose obsession with food is second only to the Italians, skipping dinner is a very, very big deal.  To prepare for this trauma, I downed a disgusting protein shake two hours before class so I wouldn\'t pass out and embarrass myself in front of fellow classmates and poolside patrons of the resort. </div>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\"> </div>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\">The first thing I noticed upon our arrival was all the MEN! They caught my attention not only because I am more than a little boy crazy (guilty as charged), but also because I am used to seeing only women at yoga classes in the suburbs.  I could get used to this. </div>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\"> </div>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\">I suppose that I was somewhat discombobulated by the \"scenery\" because when I excused myself for a quickie pre-class trip to the loo, I unknowingly barged into the men\'s restroom, and yes, there was a guy at the urinal.  After my initial shock, I broke out into the giggles and ran to the women\'s room.  I had a sneaking suspicion that the tone of the evening had been set.</div>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\"> </div>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\">Returning to my mat, it dawned on me:  Even though I have always sworn that I will NEVER take a Bikram/Hot yoga class because I will probably yak and faint and die from the heat, here I was taking a sunset yoga class in 103°.  Essentially, I was in an outdoor Bikram/Hot yoga class. </div>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\"> </div>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\">Oops.</div>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\"> </div>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\">Luckily, a distraction in the way of a shirtless young thang parked his mat right next to mine. </div>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\"> </div>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\">Heat schmeat.  What\'s a little heat when you can focus on the moon above, the mountains ahead, and a perfectly sculpted physique beside you?  Heat schmeat indeed...</div>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\"> </div>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\">Other than sunscreen-laced sweat rolling down my face and into my eyes, my hair frizzing into a poodle poof, and the onset of dehydration, I was fine. </div>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\"> </div>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\">There was also a minor B.O. issue which I swear was me because I first noticed it while in downward dog where my nose was alarmingly close to my armpit.  However, Corinniecakes later assured me that it had to be her because she\'s on a Tom\'s of Maine deodorant kick, and we all know that \"natural\" deodorants are a joke. </div>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\"> </div>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\">Whew!</div>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\"> </div>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\">I have to hand it to the Bikram peeps though.  The heat really does make you more limber.  I was able to get into poses that I have never been able to pretzel myself into previously.</div>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\"> </div>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\">And since this was an urban crowd, the music was so hip that I when I closed my eyes, I thought that I was in a Scottsdale nightclub.  Class ended with a Chris Isaak \"Wicked Game\" techno/trance mix.</div>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\"> </div>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\">???</div>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\"> </div>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\">This just further distracted me because a. it was weird (I am a purist) and b. whenever I hear \"Wicked Game\" I think of the <a href=\"http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4QF-v29K6f4&amp;feature=related\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>video</strong> </a>which has to be the sexiest video of all time.  Sigh...  I suppose there could be worse distractions than fantasizing about tantric yoga with Chris Isaak. </div>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\"> </div>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\">Overall, the class rocked.  If you are yogically inclined, get thee to a Sunset Yoga class near you. </div>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\"> </div>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\">Till next time...</div>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\"> </div>\r\n','Day 2:  Sunset Yoga Beckons (Part Two)','','inherit','open','open','','427-revision-50','','','2010-09-18 08:46:46','2010-09-18 15:46:46','',427,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/18/427-revision-50/',0,'revision','',0),(551,1,'2010-09-20 01:11:52','2010-09-20 08:11:52','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/magslhalliday/27590572/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-555\" title=\"tea\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/tea-300x224.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"224\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p>There is nothing more deliciously civilized than Afternoon Tea. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was introduced to this tradition years ago through a friend from Scotland.  We would try different tea houses around the city and disappear for hours and hours on end.  Afternoon Tea can be a real time vacuum.  This is perfect for people like me who have a hyperactive brain and don\'t sit still for very long.  Tea forces you to stop and smell the tea leaves.   </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So what better time to resurrect this tradition than my birthday week when I launched a blog and barely slept for the past month? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>My friends gathered at the Front Porch Tea Cafe run by the sweetest, motherly ladies.  When I made the reservation on the phone, I knew that we were going to be spoiled rotten when the owner addressed me as \"honey\".  Not in a syrupy-obnoxious sort of way, but in a warm-fuzzy sort of way. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And we were indeed spoiled and honeyed with both the service and the treats:  apple cinnamon scones with cinnamon Devonshire cream, 3 different kinds of tea sandwiches, countless desserts, and the main attraction of Tea. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>We were even allowed to pick our own tea cup.  Dahlings, how could you not relax in a setting such as this?</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Have you ever been to an Afternoon Tea?  Or has it been a long time since you have indulged in one? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Invite your friends to escape for an afternoon of loveliness.  Or if you are the entertaining sort, host your own Autumn Tea Party.  Google \"Autumn tea\" for bountiful ideas.<br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 4:  A Tea Party (Not the political kind)','','publish','open','open','','day-4-a-tea-party-not-the-political-kind','','','2010-09-19 21:12:14','2010-09-20 04:12:14','',0,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/?p=551',0,'post','',4),(743,1,'2010-09-27 01:11:00','2010-09-27 08:11:00','<p>[caption id=\"attachment_752\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"225\" caption=\"Cake Curiosity\"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9250184.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-752 \" title=\"Cooleenie and the Cake Thief \" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9250184-e1285524065292-225x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"225\" height=\"300\" /></a>[/caption]</p>\r\n<p>Surprises are the best, aren’t they?  Who doesn’t love a big surprise?  </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>I had the great fortune of being in on a Lordy, Lordy, Look Who’s 40 Surprise Birthday Bash for my dear friend, Lori.  Welcome to my decade, cupcake. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Uncharacteristically, I do not have a nickname for Lori, but we do share a secret “Poo Poo” gang sign from when we taught kindergarten music together.  This is what teaching young children does to grown women’s brains.  But it also keeps us in touch with our inner-potty-mouthed-kid which keeps us young at heart.  It\'s all good. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Outside of the classroom, Lori lucked out with a terribly thoughtful hubby who masterminds surprise parties and treats Lori and her friends to resort staycations.  (Please make sure to read the bottom of this post to cast your vote regarding this very important and timely matter.)</p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Lori planned to celebrate her actual birthday on Friday with her family and then head out for dinner with the girls on Saturday.  When her hubby told her that he wanted to take her out solo for dinner on Saturday, she was quite perturbed with the change o’ plans.  Heh heh heh</p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Of course, she obliged her hubby and begrudgingly announced to us that we would have to reschedule dinner.  Heh heh heh</p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>We all arrived at Lori’s house to deck the halls and walls and ceiling with tastefully garish 40<sup>th</sup> birthday paraphernalia.  Hubby had food, decorations, and cake hidden throughout the house for us.  Did I mention that he was thoughtful? </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Setting up the surprise was half the fun of the party.  How often do we get to feel that kids-on-Christmas-Eve anticipation anymore?  Surprise Parties Rule! </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Even the pets were ecstatic!  Checkers the Dalmatian was so turned on that he tried to cop a feel with me on the sofa.  What is it about me that makes males of all species move waaayyyy too fast?! </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>The upstaging pet theatrics continued.  Curiosity luckily did not kill the cat, but it dyed her white paws blue when she dove into the cake. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>And…</p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><strong><span style=\"color: #800080;\">SURPRISE!  </span></strong></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Yes, Lori was thoroughly surprised when she found us lurking in her dining room.  Hubby lured her back to the house under the premise that he “forgot something” and “could you come in and help me so I don’t hurt my back?”   Bwhahahahahahaha!!!! </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>This would definitely raise a flag for a single girl, but when you’re married for 12 years, I guess you just go with it. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><strong><span style=\"color: #800080;\">Happiest of Birthdays to You, Lori!</span></strong></p>\r\n<p><strong> </strong></p>\r\n<p>Now…back to this resort staycation giftie.  Lori’s darling and generous hubby treated her to a resort getaway in Snobbsdale for the eight of us soul sisters next Saturday!  Wahoo! </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>The only problem is that this soul sister has a pre-paid night in a haunted hotel for a ghost hunting expedition next Saturday for possibly the most curious of these 365 adventures! </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>So… Lori let it slip that she will let me know if “anything changes”.  Please cast your vote by commenting below:  Should Lori change the staycation soul sister night to the following Saturday?</p>  <p>Heh heh heh </p>\r\n','Day 11:  Surprise!  ','','publish','open','open','','day-11-surprise','','','2010-09-26 12:34:04','2010-09-26 19:34:04','',0,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/?p=743',0,'post','',6),(553,1,'2010-09-19 11:23:13','2010-09-19 18:23:13','','Day 4:  Tea Party (Not the political kind)','','inherit','open','open','','551-revision','','','2010-09-19 11:23:13','2010-09-19 18:23:13','',551,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/19/551-revision/',0,'revision','',0),(554,1,'2010-09-19 11:24:04','2010-09-19 18:24:04','','Day 4:  Tea Party (Not the political kind)','','inherit','open','open','','551-revision-2','','','2010-09-19 11:24:04','2010-09-19 18:24:04','',551,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/19/551-revision-2/',0,'revision','',0),(555,1,'2010-09-19 20:24:34','2010-09-20 03:24:34','','tea','','inherit','open','open','','tea','','','2010-09-19 20:24:34','2010-09-20 03:24:34','',551,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/tea.jpg',0,'attachment','image/jpeg',0),(556,1,'2010-09-19 12:12:17','2010-09-19 19:12:17','<p>There is nothing more deliciously civilized than Afternoon Tea. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was introduced to this tradition years ago through a friend from Scotland.  We would try different tea houses around the city and disappear for hours and hours on end.  Afternoon Tea can be a real time vacuum.  This is perfect for people like me who have a hyperactive brain and don\'t sit still for very long.  Tea forces you to stop and smell the tea leaves.   </p>\r\n\r\n<p>So what better time to resurrect this tradition than my birthday week when I launched a blog and barely slept in three weeks? </p>\r\n\r\n<p>My friends gathered at the Front Porch Tea Cafe run by the sweetest, motherly ladies.  When I made the reservation on the phone, I knew that we were going to be spoiled rotten when the owner addressed me as \"honey\".  Not in a syrupy-obnoxious sort of way, but in a warm-fuzzy sort of way. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>And we were indeed spoiled and honeyed with both the service and the treats:  apple cinnamon scones with cinnamon devonshire cream, 3 different kinds of tea sanwhiches, countless desserts, and the main attraction of Tea. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>We were even allowed to pick our own tea cup.  Dahlings, how could you not relax in a setting such as this? </p>\r\n\r\n<p>Have you ever been to an Afternoon Tea?  Or has it been a long time since you have indulged in one? </p>\r\n\r\n<p>Invite your friends to escape for an afternoon of loveliness. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 4:  A Tea Party (Not the political kind)','','inherit','open','open','','551-revision-3','','','2010-09-19 12:12:17','2010-09-19 19:12:17','',551,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/19/551-revision-3/',0,'revision','',0),(557,1,'2010-09-19 20:25:06','2010-09-20 03:25:06','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/tea.jpg\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-555\" title=\"tea\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/tea-300x224.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"224\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p>There is nothing more deliciously civilized than Afternoon Tea. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was introduced to this tradition years ago through a friend from Scotland.  We would try different tea houses around the city and disappear for hours and hours on end.  Afternoon Tea can be a real time vacuum.  This is perfect for people like me who have a hyperactive brain and don\'t sit still for very long.  Tea forces you to stop and smell the tea leaves.   </p>\r\n\r\n<p>So what better time to resurrect this tradition than my birthday week when I launched a blog and barely slept in three weeks? </p>\r\n\r\n<p>My friends gathered at the Front Porch Tea Cafe run by the sweetest, motherly ladies.  When I made the reservation on the phone, I knew that we were going to be spoiled rotten when the owner addressed me as \"honey\".  Not in a syrupy-obnoxious sort of way, but in a warm-fuzzy sort of way. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>And we were indeed spoiled and honeyed with both the service and the treats:  apple cinnamon scones with cinnamon devonshire cream, 3 different kinds of tea sanwhiches, countless desserts, and the main attraction of Tea. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>We were even allowed to pick our own tea cup.  Dahlings, how could you not relax in a setting such as this? </p>\r\n\r\n<p>Have you ever been to an Afternoon Tea?  Or has it been a long time since you have indulged in one? </p>\r\n\r\n<p>Invite your friends to escape for an afternoon of loveliness. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 4:  A Tea Party (Not the political kind)','','inherit','open','open','','551-revision-4','','','2010-09-19 20:25:06','2010-09-20 03:25:06','',551,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/19/551-revision-4/',0,'revision','',0),(558,1,'2010-09-19 20:26:41','2010-09-20 03:26:41','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/magslhalliday/27590572/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-555\" title=\"tea\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/tea-300x224.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"224\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p>There is nothing more deliciously civilized than Afternoon Tea. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was introduced to this tradition years ago through a friend from Scotland.  We would try different tea houses around the city and disappear for hours and hours on end.  Afternoon Tea can be a real time vacuum.  This is perfect for people like me who have a hyperactive brain and don\'t sit still for very long.  Tea forces you to stop and smell the tea leaves.   </p>\r\n\r\n<p>So what better time to resurrect this tradition than my birthday week when I launched a blog and barely slept in three weeks? </p>\r\n\r\n<p>My friends gathered at the Front Porch Tea Cafe run by the sweetest, motherly ladies.  When I made the reservation on the phone, I knew that we were going to be spoiled rotten when the owner addressed me as \"honey\".  Not in a syrupy-obnoxious sort of way, but in a warm-fuzzy sort of way. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>And we were indeed spoiled and honeyed with both the service and the treats:  apple cinnamon scones with cinnamon devonshire cream, 3 different kinds of tea sanwhiches, countless desserts, and the main attraction of Tea. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>We were even allowed to pick our own tea cup.  Dahlings, how could you not relax in a setting such as this? </p>\r\n\r\n<p>Have you ever been to an Afternoon Tea?  Or has it been a long time since you have indulged in one? </p>\r\n\r\n<p>Invite your friends to escape for an afternoon of loveliness. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 4:  A Tea Party (Not the political kind)','','inherit','open','open','','551-revision-5','','','2010-09-19 20:26:41','2010-09-20 03:26:41','',551,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/19/551-revision-5/',0,'revision','',0),(559,1,'2010-09-19 20:41:40','2010-09-20 03:41:40','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/magslhalliday/27590572/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-555\" title=\"tea\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/tea-300x224.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"224\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p>There is nothing more deliciously civilized than Afternoon Tea. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was introduced to this tradition years ago through a friend from Scotland.  We would try different tea houses around the city and disappear for hours and hours on end.  Afternoon Tea can be a real time vacuum.  This is perfect for people like me who have a hyperactive brain and don\'t sit still for very long.  Tea forces you to stop and smell the tea leaves.   </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So what better time to resurrect this tradition than my birthday week when I launched a blog and have barely slept for the past month? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>My friends gathered at the Front Porch Tea Cafe run by the sweetest, motherly ladies.  When I made the reservation on the phone, I knew that we were going to be spoiled rotten when the owner addressed me as \"honey\".  Not in a syrupy-obnoxious sort of way, but in a warm-fuzzy sort of way. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And we were indeed spoiled and honeyed with both the service and the treats:  apple cinnamon scones with cinnamon Devonshire cream, 3 different kinds of tea sandwiches, countless desserts, and the main attraction of Tea. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>We were even allowed to pick our own tea cup.  Dahlings, how could you not relax in a setting such as this?</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Have you ever been to an Afternoon Tea?  Or has it been a long time since you have indulged in one? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Invite your friends to escape for an afternoon of loveliness.  Or if you are the entertaining sort, host your own Autumn Tea Party.  Google \"Autumn tea\" for bountiful ideas. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 4:  A Tea Party (Not the political kind)','','inherit','open','open','','551-revision-6','','','2010-09-19 20:41:40','2010-09-20 03:41:40','',551,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/19/551-revision-6/',0,'revision','',0),(560,1,'2010-09-19 20:43:44','2010-09-20 03:43:44','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/magslhalliday/27590572/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-555\" title=\"tea\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/tea-300x224.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"224\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p>There is nothing more deliciously civilized than Afternoon Tea. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was introduced to this tradition years ago through a friend from Scotland.  We would try different tea houses around the city and disappear for hours and hours on end.  Afternoon Tea can be a real time vacuum.  This is perfect for people like me who have a hyperactive brain and don\'t sit still for very long.  Tea forces you to stop and smell the tea leaves.   </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So what better time to resurrect this tradition than my birthday week when I launched a blog and have barely slept for the past month? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>My friends gathered at the Front Porch Tea Cafe run by the sweetest, motherly ladies.  When I made the reservation on the phone, I knew that we were going to be spoiled rotten when the owner addressed me as \"honey\".  Not in a syrupy-obnoxious sort of way, but in a warm-fuzzy sort of way. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And we were indeed spoiled and honeyed with both the service and the treats:  apple cinnamon scones with cinnamon Devonshire cream, 3 different kinds of tea sandwiches, countless desserts, and the main attraction of Tea. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>We were even allowed to pick our own tea cup.  Dahlings, how could you not relax in a setting such as this?</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Have you ever been to an Afternoon Tea?  Or has it been a long time since you have indulged in one? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Invite your friends to escape for an afternoon of loveliness.  Or if you are the entertaining sort, host your own Autumn Tea Party.  Google \"Autumn tea\" for bountiful ideas. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 4:  A Tea Party (Not the political kind)','','inherit','open','open','','551-revision-7','','','2010-09-19 20:43:44','2010-09-20 03:43:44','',551,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/19/551-revision-7/',0,'revision','',0),(561,1,'2010-09-19 21:11:46','2010-09-20 04:11:46','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/magslhalliday/27590572/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-555\" title=\"tea\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/tea-300x224.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"224\" /></a></p>\r\n<p>There is nothing more deliciously civilized than Afternoon Tea. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>I was introduced to this tradition years ago through a friend from Scotland.  We would try different tea houses around the city and disappear for hours and hours on end.  Afternoon Tea can be a real time vacuum.  This is perfect for people like me who have a hyperactive brain and don\'t sit still for very long.  Tea forces you to stop and smell the tea leaves.   </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>So what better time to resurrect this tradition than my birthday week when I launched a blog and barely slept for the past month? </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>My friends gathered at the Front Porch Tea Cafe run by the sweetest, motherly ladies.  When I made the reservation on the phone, I knew that we were going to be spoiled rotten when the owner addressed me as \"honey\".  Not in a syrupy-obnoxious sort of way, but in a warm-fuzzy sort of way. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>And we were indeed spoiled and honeyed with both the service and the treats:  apple cinnamon scones with cinnamon Devonshire cream, 3 different kinds of tea sandwiches, countless desserts, and the main attraction of Tea. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>We were even allowed to pick our own tea cup.  Dahlings, how could you not relax in a setting such as this?</p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Have you ever been to an Afternoon Tea?  Or has it been a long time since you have indulged in one? </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Invite your friends to escape for an afternoon of loveliness.  Or if you are the entertaining sort, host your own Autumn Tea Party.  Google \"Autumn tea\" for bountiful ideas.<br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n','Day 4:  A Tea Party (Not the political kind)','','inherit','open','open','','551-autosave','','','2010-09-19 21:11:46','2010-09-20 04:11:46','',551,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/19/551-autosave/',0,'revision','',0),(580,1,'2010-09-19 21:11:41','2010-09-20 04:11:41','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/magslhalliday/27590572/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-555\" title=\"tea\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/tea-300x224.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"224\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p>There is nothing more deliciously civilized than Afternoon Tea. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was introduced to this tradition years ago through a friend from Scotland.  We would try different tea houses around the city and disappear for hours and hours on end.  Afternoon Tea can be a real time vacuum.  This is perfect for people like me who have a hyperactive brain and don\'t sit still for very long.  Tea forces you to stop and smell the tea leaves.   </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So what better time to resurrect this tradition than my birthday week when I launched a blog and barely slept for the past month? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>My friends gathered at the Front Porch Tea Cafe run by the sweetest, motherly ladies.  When I made the reservation on the phone, I knew that we were going to be spoiled rotten when the owner addressed me as \"honey\".  Not in a syrupy-obnoxious sort of way, but in a warm-fuzzy sort of way. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And we were indeed spoiled and honeyed with both the service and the treats:  apple cinnamon scones with cinnamon Devonshire cream, 3 different kinds of tea sandwiches, countless desserts, and the main attraction of Tea. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>We were even allowed to pick our own tea cup.  Dahlings, how could you not relax in a setting such as this?</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Have you ever been to an Afternoon Tea?  Or has it been a long time since you have indulged in one? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Invite your friends to escape for an afternoon of loveliness.  Or if you are the entertaining sort, host your own Autumn Tea Party.  Google \"Autumn tea\" for bountiful ideas.<br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 4:  A Tea Party (Not the political kind)','','inherit','open','open','','551-revision-10','','','2010-09-19 21:11:41','2010-09-20 04:11:41','',551,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/19/551-revision-10/',0,'revision','',0),(1188,1,'2010-10-08 20:54:25','2010-10-09 03:54:25','','Day 27:  Monday','','inherit','open','open','','1112-revision-2','','','2010-10-08 20:54:25','2010-10-09 03:54:25','',1112,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/10/08/1112-revision-2/',0,'revision','',0),(564,1,'2010-09-15 12:53:07','2010-09-15 19:53:07','Megan -- \"That sounds like a lot of germs to me.\"','sunday whole foods post -- take pic there! ','','inherit','open','open','','405-revision-3','','','2010-09-15 12:53:07','2010-09-15 19:53:07','',405,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/15/405-revision-3/',0,'revision','',0),(565,1,'2010-09-19 20:52:23','2010-09-20 03:52:23','','OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA','30 ft. Banana Split Leads to Rise in Lactaid Stock','inherit','open','open','','olympus-digital-camera-4','','','2010-09-19 20:52:23','2010-09-20 03:52:23','',405,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg',0,'attachment','image/jpeg',0),(566,1,'2010-09-19 20:54:03','2010-09-20 03:54:03','','OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA','','inherit','open','open','','olympus-digital-camera-5','','','2010-09-19 20:54:03','2010-09-20 03:54:03','',405,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg',0,'attachment','image/jpeg',0),(567,1,'2010-09-19 20:45:41','2010-09-20 03:45:41','<p>Megan -- \"That sounds like a lot of germs to me.\"</p>','Day 5:  I Scream, You Scream, Whole Foods Screams for...','','inherit','open','open','','405-revision-4','','','2010-09-19 20:45:41','2010-09-20 03:45:41','',405,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/19/405-revision-4/',0,'revision','',0),(569,1,'2010-09-19 20:59:43','2010-09-20 03:59:43','','OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA','','inherit','open','open','','olympus-digital-camera-6','','','2010-09-19 20:59:43','2010-09-20 03:59:43','',405,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P91901741.jpg',0,'attachment','image/jpeg',0),(568,1,'2010-09-19 20:56:04','2010-09-20 03:56:04','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-566\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172-225x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"225\" height=\"300\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\">Megan -- \"That sounds like a lot of germs to me.\"</a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-565\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a></p>','Day 5:  I Scream, You Scream, Whole Foods Screams for...','','inherit','open','open','','405-revision-5','','','2010-09-19 20:56:04','2010-09-20 03:56:04','',405,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/19/405-revision-5/',0,'revision','',0),(570,1,'2010-09-19 20:58:26','2010-09-20 03:58:26','<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-565\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p>megan \"that sounds like a lot of germs to me\"<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 5:  I Scream, You Scream, Whole Foods Screams for...','','inherit','open','open','','405-revision-6','','','2010-09-19 20:58:26','2010-09-20 03:58:26','',405,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/19/405-revision-6/',0,'revision','',0),(571,1,'2010-09-19 21:02:22','2010-09-20 04:02:22','','OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA','','inherit','open','open','','olympus-digital-camera-7','','','2010-09-19 21:02:22','2010-09-20 04:02:22','',405,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P91601663.jpg',0,'attachment','image/jpeg',0),(572,1,'2010-09-19 21:01:19','2010-09-20 04:01:19','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-565\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>megan \"that sounds like a lot of germs to me\"<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 5:  I Scream, You Scream, Whole Foods Screams for...','','inherit','open','open','','405-revision-7','','','2010-09-19 21:01:19','2010-09-20 04:01:19','',405,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/19/405-revision-7/',0,'revision','',0),(573,1,'2010-09-19 21:02:49','2010-09-20 04:02:49','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P91601663.jpg\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-571\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P91601663-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>megan \"that sounds like a lot of germs to me\"<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 5:  I Scream, You Scream, Whole Foods Screams for...','','inherit','open','open','','405-revision-8','','','2010-09-19 21:02:49','2010-09-20 04:02:49','',405,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/19/405-revision-8/',0,'revision','',0),(576,1,'2010-09-19 21:07:01','2010-09-20 04:07:01','<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P91901741.jpg\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-569\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P91901741-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>megan \"that sounds like a lot of germs to me\"<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 5:  I Scream, You Scream, Whole Foods Screams for...','','inherit','open','open','','405-revision-11','','','2010-09-19 21:07:01','2010-09-20 04:07:01','',405,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/19/405-revision-11/',0,'revision','',0),(574,1,'2010-09-19 21:04:24','2010-09-20 04:04:24','<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_565\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"30 ft. Banana Split\"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-565\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>megan \"that sounds like a lot of germs to me\"<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 5:  I Scream, You Scream, Whole Foods Screams for...','','inherit','open','open','','405-revision-9','','','2010-09-19 21:04:24','2010-09-20 04:04:24','',405,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/19/405-revision-9/',0,'revision','',0),(575,1,'2010-09-19 21:05:05','2010-09-20 04:05:05','<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_565\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"30 ft. Banana Split\"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-565\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>megan \"that sounds like a lot of germs to me\"<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 5:  I Scream, You Scream, Whole Foods Screams for...','','inherit','open','open','','405-revision-10','','','2010-09-19 21:05:05','2010-09-20 04:05:05','',405,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/19/405-revision-10/',0,'revision','',0),(577,1,'2010-09-19 21:07:37','2010-09-20 04:07:37','<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_569\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"30 ft. Banana Split \"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P91901741.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-569\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P91901741-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>megan \"that sounds like a lot of germs to me\"<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 5:  I Scream, You Scream, Whole Foods Screams for...','','inherit','open','open','','405-revision-12','','','2010-09-19 21:07:37','2010-09-20 04:07:37','',405,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/19/405-revision-12/',0,'revision','',0),(579,1,'2010-09-19 21:10:30','2010-09-20 04:10:30','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/magslhalliday/27590572/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-555\" title=\"tea\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/tea-300x224.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"224\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p>There is nothing more deliciously civilized than Afternoon Tea. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was introduced to this tradition years ago through a friend from Scotland.  We would try different tea houses around the city and disappear for hours and hours on end.  Afternoon Tea can be a real time vacuum.  This is perfect for people like me who have a hyperactive brain and don\'t sit still for very long.  Tea forces you to stop and smell the tea leaves.   </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So what better time to resurrect this tradition than my birthday week when I launched a blog and barely slept for the past month? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>My friends gathered at the Front Porch Tea Cafe run by the sweetest, motherly ladies.  When I made the reservation on the phone, I knew that we were going to be spoiled rotten when the owner addressed me as \"honey\".  Not in a syrupy-obnoxious sort of way, but in a warm-fuzzy sort of way. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And we were indeed spoiled and honeyed with both the service and the treats:  apple cinnamon scones with cinnamon Devonshire cream, 3 different kinds of tea sandwiches, countless desserts, and the main attraction of Tea. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>We were even allowed to pick our own tea cup.  Dahlings, how could you not relax in a setting such as this?</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Have you ever been to an Afternoon Tea?  Or has it been a long time since you have indulged in one? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Invite your friends to escape for an afternoon of loveliness.  Or if you are the entertaining sort, host your own Autumn Tea Party.  Google \"Autumn tea\" for bountiful ideas. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 4:  A Tea Party (Not the political kind)','','inherit','open','open','','551-revision-9','','','2010-09-19 21:10:30','2010-09-20 04:10:30','',551,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/19/551-revision-9/',0,'revision','',0),(578,1,'2010-09-19 20:43:53','2010-09-20 03:43:53','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/magslhalliday/27590572/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-555\" title=\"tea\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/tea-300x224.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"224\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p>There is nothing more deliciously civilized than Afternoon Tea. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was introduced to this tradition years ago through a friend from Scotland.  We would try different tea houses around the city and disappear for hours and hours on end.  Afternoon Tea can be a real time vacuum.  This is perfect for people like me who have a hyperactive brain and don\'t sit still for very long.  Tea forces you to stop and smell the tea leaves.   </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So what better time to resurrect this tradition than my birthday week when I launched a blog and have barely slept for the past month? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>My friends gathered at the Front Porch Tea Cafe run by the sweetest, motherly ladies.  When I made the reservation on the phone, I knew that we were going to be spoiled rotten when the owner addressed me as \"honey\".  Not in a syrupy-obnoxious sort of way, but in a warm-fuzzy sort of way. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And we were indeed spoiled and honeyed with both the service and the treats:  apple cinnamon scones with cinnamon Devonshire cream, 3 different kinds of tea sandwiches, countless desserts, and the main attraction of Tea. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>We were even allowed to pick our own tea cup.  Dahlings, how could you not relax in a setting such as this?</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Have you ever been to an Afternoon Tea?  Or has it been a long time since you have indulged in one? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Invite your friends to escape for an afternoon of loveliness.  Or if you are the entertaining sort, host your own Autumn Tea Party.  Google \"Autumn tea\" for bountiful ideas. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 4:  A Tea Party (Not the political kind)','','inherit','open','open','','551-revision-8','','','2010-09-19 20:43:53','2010-09-20 03:43:53','',551,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/19/551-revision-8/',0,'revision','',0),(582,1,'2010-09-19 21:08:37','2010-09-20 04:08:37','<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_569\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"30 ft. Banana Split \"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P91901741.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-569\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P91901741-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>megan \"that sounds like a lot of germs to me\"<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 5:  I Scream, You Scream, Whole Foods Screams for...','','inherit','open','open','','405-revision-13','','','2010-09-19 21:08:37','2010-09-20 04:08:37','',405,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/19/405-revision-13/',0,'revision','',0),(583,1,'2010-09-20 21:23:48','2010-09-21 04:23:48','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a></p>\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_565\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"30 ft. Banana Split Leads to Rise in Lactaid Stock\"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-565\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n<p>I am an ice cream fiend.  Despite my overall health nut eating habits, I cannot say “no” to ice cream.  Ever.  And I don’t do low-fat ice cream either.  Ever.  Ice cream should be eaten in all its creamy and full-fat glory. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So when I was at the Whole Foods (or “Whole Paycheck”, as my Dad calls them) hot bar for lunch and saw a flyer inviting customers to partake in a 30 ft. banana split, I knew that this was my destiny. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I’m not even much of a banana split fan.  I’ve never seen any reason to add fruit to my ice cream in an attempt to make it healthier.  Eat the damn ice cream without guilt and save your 2-4 daily servings of fruit for another time!  There is absolutely no reason to mix business (fruit) with pleasure (ice cream) when you are indulging in frozen lusciousness.    </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I could deal with the bananas for this event, however, as it was a very special Whole Paycheck 30<sup>th</sup> Birthday Party.  Get it?  Turning 30 – 30 ft. banana split – 3 p.m. show time.  Those Whole Paycheck peeps are a clever bunch. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And since I have been shopping at Whole Paycheck for the past 25 of those 30 years, I am practically family and needed to attend.  30<sup>th</sup> birthdays are special, and I would have been a thoughtless wench for missing such a momentous day in a family member’s life. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>My friend Megan looked at me funny when I showed overexcitement upon finding the flyer.  Her thoughts? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“That sounds like a whole lotta germs to me.”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Oh, well.  I am way too much in touch with my inner child to worry about the grody details.  How many times in one’s life do you have the chance to dive into a 30 ft. sundae?  And as I just explained, this was a familial obligation, and those are always tricky to get out of. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I dragged my dear, sweet friend, Melanie, along with me.  She, too, is in touch with her inner child and almost always humors me in situations such as these. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Melanie and I camped out 20 minutes early so as to capture the banana split unveiling on film.  Or digital something-or-rather.  What <em>do</em> you call it these days? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Around 2:50 the vultures descended.  It was an ungodly 111 degrees outside, and I suppose this made people want free ice cream very, very badly.  The line was at least 200 feet long, I’d say. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>At 3 p.m. sharp, the 30 ft. banana split was laid out in segmented troughs.  I wasn’t the only dork waiting to document this super-sized split on digital something-or-rather.  I thought super-dorkman in front of me would never get out of the way to let me have my photo op!  I mean, I needed to do this for journalistic purposes.  What on earth did he need a photo of a 30 ft. phallic sundae for, and why did it take him 5 minutes to get the perfect shot??  Who knows.  Maybe <em>Food and Wine</em> sent him. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>After this photo frenzy, the crowd was then asked to sing “Happy Birthday” to Whole Paycheck.  I am not making this up.  How silly is that?  But I guess when it’s 111 outside, you’ll cluck like a chicken if you need to for free ice cream. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Even though we arrived at this shindig first, and even though I am family, Melanie and I technically were not in line and politely moved back 200 ft. to wait for our piece of the trough.  Now that I think of it, I should have suggested party games while we were waiting, but I was so distracted watching men and boys chow down on samples of deli meat that I was overcome by a wave of nausea and couldn’t think clearly.   </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Cheese samples?  Enticing. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Chocolate samples?  Scrumptious. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Free ice cream?  Irresistible.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Hunks of Deli Meat?  ??? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Must be a Mars/Venus thing. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Those Whole Paycheck peeps are not only clever, but efficient, because we worked our way up to the front of the line in no time.  Our piece of the trough included vanilla bean (with specks) ice cream, bananas, and chocolate syrup.  Whipped cream, sprinkles, and a rainbow of other assorted condiments awaited us at the next table. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was particularly excited about this because I love whipped cream almost as much as I love ice cream.  At Thanksgiving, you cannot see my pumpkin pie because it sits under a mountain of whipped cream.  Bring it on, and bring on lots of it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As I was daydreaming about which of the other condiments would grace my banana split, Melanie interrupted with, “This is how people get sick.  Think of all the germs.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I half-ignored her because a. I worked with preschool – 3<sup>rd</sup> graders for 16 years and am used to being around walking germ factories and b. there were spoons.  Seemed hygienic to me.  What was the problem? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Until Melanie pointed out that deli meat-sampling father and son were fondling the whipped cream can which made me want to dry heave.  For all we knew, deli meat boy picked his nose 5 minutes prior. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This kind of stuff really happens because Marvin Zindler proved it to the good people of Houston on an Eyewitness News expose when I was a kid.  He shoveled his finger up his nose (for demonstration purposes only), marched into a Chinese restaurant, and shoved his hand in the mint dish faster than you could blink. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>You don’t see unwrapped mints sitting around in Chinese restaurants anymore, do you?  Hmmm?? You have Marvin to thank for that! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Anywho, no whipped cream needed this time around.  Melanie and I relished our rather plain but delicious sundae and called it a day.     </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It’s all fun and games until someone gets sick. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-566\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172-225x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"225\" height=\"300\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 5:  I Scream, You Scream, Whole Foods Screams for...','','inherit','open','open','','405-revision-14','','','2010-09-20 21:23:48','2010-09-21 04:23:48','',405,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/20/405-revision-14/',0,'revision','',0),(584,1,'2010-09-20 21:26:40','2010-09-21 04:26:40','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p>\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_565\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"30 ft. Banana Split Leads to Rise in Lactaid Stock\"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-565\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am an ice cream fiend.  Despite my overall health nut eating habits, I cannot say “no” to ice cream.  Ever.  And I don’t do low-fat ice cream either.  Ever.  Ice cream should be eaten in all its creamy and full-fat glory. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So when I was at the Whole Foods (or “Whole Paycheck”, as my Dad calls them) hot bar for lunch and saw a flyer inviting customers to partake in a 30 ft. banana split, I knew that this was my destiny. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I’m not even much of a banana split fan.  I’ve never seen any reason to add fruit to my ice cream in an attempt to make it healthier.  Eat the damn ice cream without guilt and save your 2-4 daily servings of fruit for another time!  There is absolutely no reason to mix business (fruit) with pleasure (ice cream) when you are indulging in frozen lusciousness.    </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I could deal with the bananas for this event, however, as it was a very special Whole Paycheck 30<sup>th</sup> Birthday Party.  Get it?  Turning 30 – 30 ft. banana split – 3 p.m. show time.  Those Whole Paycheck peeps are a clever bunch. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And since I have been shopping at Whole Paycheck for the past 25 of those 30 years, I am practically family and needed to attend.  30<sup>th</sup> birthdays are special, and I would have been a thoughtless wench for missing such a momentous day in a family member’s life. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>My friend Megan looked at me funny when I showed overexcitement upon finding the flyer.  Her thoughts? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“That sounds like a whole lotta germs to me.”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Oh, well.  I am way too much in touch with my inner child to worry about the grody details.  How many times in one’s life do you have the chance to dive into a 30 ft. sundae?  And as I just explained, this was a familial obligation, and those are always tricky to get out of. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I dragged my dear, sweet friend, Melanie, along with me.  She, too, is in touch with her inner child and almost always humors me in situations such as these. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Melanie and I camped out 20 minutes early so as to capture the banana split unveiling on film.  Or digital something-or-rather.  What <em>do</em> you call it these days? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Around 2:50 the vultures descended.  It was an ungodly 111 degrees outside, and I suppose this made people want free ice cream very, very badly.  The line was at least 200 feet long, I’d say. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>At 3 p.m. sharp, the 30 ft. banana split was laid out in segmented troughs.  I wasn’t the only dork waiting to document this super-sized split on digital something-or-rather.  I thought super-dorkman in front of me would never get out of the way to let me have my photo op!  I mean, I needed to do this for journalistic purposes.  What on earth did he need a photo of a 30 ft. phallic sundae for, and why did it take him 5 minutes to get the perfect shot??  Who knows.  Maybe <em>Food and Wine</em> sent him. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>After this photo frenzy, the crowd was then asked to sing “Happy Birthday” to Whole Paycheck.  I am not making this up.  How silly is that?  But I guess when it’s 111 outside, you’ll cluck like a chicken if you need to for free ice cream. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Even though we arrived at this shindig first, and even though I am family, Melanie and I technically were not in line and politely moved back 200 ft. to wait for our piece of the trough.  Now that I think of it, I should have suggested party games while we were waiting, but I was so distracted watching men and boys chow down on samples of deli meat that I was overcome by a wave of nausea and couldn’t think clearly.   </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Cheese samples?  Enticing. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Chocolate samples?  Scrumptious. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Free ice cream?  Irresistible.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Hunks of Deli Meat?  ??? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Must be a Mars/Venus thing. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Those Whole Paycheck peeps are not only clever, but efficient, because we worked our way up to the front of the line in no time.  Our piece of the trough included vanilla bean (with specks) ice cream, bananas, and chocolate syrup.  Whipped cream, sprinkles, and a rainbow of other assorted condiments awaited us at the next table. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was particularly excited about this because I love whipped cream almost as much as I love ice cream.  At Thanksgiving, you cannot see my pumpkin pie because it sits under a mountain of whipped cream.  Bring it on, and bring on lots of it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As I was daydreaming about which of the other condiments would grace my banana split, Melanie interrupted with, “This is how people get sick.  Think of all the germs.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I half-ignored her because a. I worked with preschool – 3<sup>rd</sup> graders for 16 years and am used to being around walking germ factories and b. there were spoons.  Seemed hygienic to me.  What was the problem? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Until Melanie pointed out that deli meat-sampling father and son were fondling the whipped cream can which made me want to dry heave.  For all we knew, deli meat boy picked his nose 5 minutes prior. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This kind of stuff really happens because Marvin Zindler proved it to the good people of Houston on an Eyewitness News expose when I was a kid.  He shoveled his finger up his nose (for demonstration purposes only), marched into a Chinese restaurant, and shoved his hand in the mint dish faster than you could blink. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>You don’t see unwrapped mints sitting around in Chinese restaurants anymore, do you?  Hmmm?? You have Marvin to thank for that! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Anywho, no whipped cream needed this time around.  Melanie and I relished our rather plain but delicious sundae and called it a day.     </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It’s all fun and games until someone gets sick. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-566\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172-225x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"225\" height=\"300\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 5:  I Scream, You Scream, Whole Foods Screams for...','','inherit','open','open','','405-revision-15','','','2010-09-20 21:26:40','2010-09-21 04:26:40','',405,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/20/405-revision-15/',0,'revision','',0),(585,1,'2010-09-20 21:28:22','2010-09-21 04:28:22','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a></p>\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_565\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"30 ft. Banana Split Leads to Rise in Lactaid Stock\"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-565\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n<p>I am an ice cream fiend.  Despite my overall health nut eating habits, I cannot say “no” to ice cream.  Ever.  And I don’t do low-fat ice cream either.  Ever.  Ice cream should be eaten in all its creamy and full-fat glory. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So when I was at the Whole Foods (or “Whole Paycheck”, as my Dad calls them) hot bar for lunch and saw a flyer inviting customers to partake in a 30 ft. banana split, I knew that this was my destiny. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I’m not even much of a banana split fan.  I’ve never seen any reason to add fruit to my ice cream in an attempt to make it healthier.  Eat the damn ice cream without guilt and save your 2-4 daily servings of fruit for another time!  There is absolutely no reason to mix business (fruit) with pleasure (ice cream) when you are indulging in frozen lusciousness.    </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I could deal with the bananas for this event, however, as it was a very special Whole Paycheck 30<sup>th</sup> Birthday Party.  Get it?  Turning 30 – 30 ft. banana split – 3 p.m. show time.  Those Whole Paycheck peeps are a clever bunch. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And since I have been shopping at Whole Paycheck for the past 25 of those 30 years, I am practically family and needed to attend.  30<sup>th</sup> birthdays are special, and I would have been a thoughtless wench for missing such a momentous day in a family member’s life. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>My friend Megan looked at me funny when I showed overexcitement upon finding the flyer.  Her thoughts? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“That sounds like a whole lotta germs to me.”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Oh, well.  I am way too much in touch with my inner child to worry about the grody details.  How many times in one’s life do you have the chance to dive into a 30 ft. sundae?  And as I just explained, this was a familial obligation, and those are always tricky to get out of. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I dragged my dear, sweet friend, Melanie, along with me.  She, too, is in touch with her inner child and almost always humors me in situations such as these. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Melanie and I camped out 20 minutes early so as to capture the banana split unveiling on film.  Or digital something-or-rather.  What <em>do</em> you call it these days? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Around 2:50 the vultures descended.  It was an ungodly 111 degrees outside, and I suppose this made people want free ice cream very, very badly.  The line was at least 200 feet long, I’d say. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>At 3 p.m. sharp, the 30 ft. banana split was laid out in segmented troughs.  I wasn’t the only dork waiting to document this super-sized split on digital something-or-rather.  I thought super-dorkman in front of me would never get out of the way to let me have my photo op!  I mean, I needed to do this for journalistic purposes.  What on earth did he need a photo of a 30 ft. phallic sundae for, and why did it take him 5 minutes to get the perfect shot??  Who knows.  Maybe <em>Food and Wine</em> sent him. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>After this photo frenzy, the crowd was then asked to sing “Happy Birthday” to Whole Paycheck.  I am not making this up.  How silly is that?  But I guess when it’s 111 outside, you’ll cluck like a chicken if you need to for free ice cream. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Even though we arrived at this shindig first, and even though I am family, Melanie and I technically were not in line and politely moved back 200 ft. to wait for our piece of the trough.  Now that I think of it, I should have suggested party games while we were waiting, but I was so distracted watching men and boys chow down on samples of deli meat that I was overcome by a wave of nausea and couldn’t think clearly.   </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Cheese samples?  Enticing. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Chocolate samples?  Scrumptious. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Free ice cream?  Irresistible.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Hunks of Deli Meat?  ??? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Must be a Mars/Venus thing. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Those Whole Paycheck peeps are not only clever, but efficient, because we worked our way up to the front of the line in no time.  Our piece of the trough included vanilla bean (with specks) ice cream, bananas, and chocolate syrup.  Whipped cream, sprinkles, and a rainbow of other assorted condiments awaited us at the next table. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was particularly excited about this because I love whipped cream almost as much as I love ice cream.  At Thanksgiving, you cannot see my pumpkin pie because it sits under a mountain of whipped cream.  Bring it on, and bring on lots of it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As I was daydreaming about which of the other condiments would grace my banana split, Melanie interrupted with, “This is how people get sick.  Think of all the germs.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I half-ignored her because a. I worked with preschool – 3<sup>rd</sup> graders for 16 years and am used to being around walking germ factories and b. there were spoons.  Seemed hygienic to me.  What was the problem? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Until Melanie pointed out that deli meat-sampling father and son were fondling the whipped cream can which made me want to dry heave.  For all we knew, deli meat boy also picked his nose 5 minutes prior. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This kind of stuff really happens because Marvin Zindler proved it to the good people of Houston on an Eyewitness News expose when I was a kid.  He shoveled his finger up his nose (for demonstration purposes only), marched into a Chinese restaurant, and shoved his hand in the mint dish faster than you could blink. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>You don’t see unwrapped mints sitting around in Chinese restaurants anymore, do you?  Hmmm?? You have Marvin to thank for that! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Anywho, no whipped cream needed this time around.  Melanie and I relished our rather plain but delicious sundae and called it a day.     </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It’s all fun and games until someone gets sick. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-566\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172-225x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"225\" height=\"300\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 5:  I Scream, You Scream, Whole Foods Screams for...','','inherit','open','open','','405-revision-16','','','2010-09-20 21:28:22','2010-09-21 04:28:22','',405,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/20/405-revision-16/',0,'revision','',0),(586,1,'2010-09-20 21:29:41','2010-09-21 04:29:41','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a></p>\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_565\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"30 ft. Banana Split Leads to Rise in Lactaid Stock\"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-565\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n<p>I am an ice cream fiend.  Despite my overall health nut eating habits, I cannot say “no” to ice cream.  Ever.  And I don’t do low-fat ice cream either.  Ever.  Ice cream should be eaten in all its creamy and full-fat glory. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So when I was at the Whole Foods (or “Whole Paycheck”, as my Dad calls them) hot bar for lunch and saw a flyer inviting customers to partake in a 30 ft. banana split, I knew that this was my destiny. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I’m not even much of a banana split fan.  I’ve never seen any reason to add fruit to my ice cream in an attempt to make it healthier.  Eat the damn ice cream without guilt and save your 2-4 daily servings of fruit for another time!  There is absolutely no reason to mix business (fruit) with pleasure (ice cream) when you are indulging in frozen lusciousness.    </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I could deal with the bananas for this event, however, as it was a very special Whole Paycheck 30<sup>th</sup> Birthday Party.  Get it?  Turning 30 – 30 ft. banana split – 3 p.m. show time.  Those Whole Paycheck peeps are a clever bunch. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And since I have been shopping at Whole Paycheck for the past 25 of those 30 years, I am practically family and needed to attend.  30<sup>th</sup> birthdays are special, and I would have been a thoughtless wench for missing such a momentous day in a family member’s life. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>My friend Megan looked at me funny when I showed overexcitement upon finding the flyer.  Her thoughts? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“That sounds like a whole lotta germs to me.”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Oh, well.  I am way too much in touch with my inner child to worry about the grody details.  How many times in one’s life do you have the chance to dive into a 30 ft. sundae?  And as I just explained, this was a familial obligation, and those are always tricky to get out of. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I dragged my dear, sweet friend, Melanie, along with me.  She, too, is in touch with her inner child and almost always humors me in situations such as these. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Melanie and I camped out 20 minutes early so as to capture the banana split unveiling on film.  Or digital something-or-rather.  What <em>do</em> you call it these days? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Around 2:50 the vultures descended.  It was an ungodly 111 degrees outside, and I suppose this made people want free ice cream very, very badly.  The line was at least 200 feet long, I’d say. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>At 3 p.m. sharp, the 30 ft. banana split was laid out in segmented troughs.  I wasn’t the only dork waiting to document this super-sized split on digital something-or-rather.  I thought super-dorkman in front of me would never get out of the way to let me have my photo op!  I mean, I needed to do this for journalistic purposes.  What on earth did he need a photo of a 30 ft. phallic sundae for, and why did it take him 5 minutes to get the perfect shot??  Who knows.  Maybe <em>Food and Wine</em> sent him. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>After this photo frenzy, the crowd was then asked to sing “Happy Birthday” to Whole Paycheck.  I am not making this up.  How silly is that?  But I guess when it’s 111 outside, you’ll cluck like a chicken if you need to for free ice cream. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Even though we arrived at this shindig first, and even though I am family, Melanie and I technically were not in line and politely moved back 200 ft. to wait for our piece of the trough.  Now that I think of it, I should have suggested party games while we were waiting, but I was so distracted watching men and boys chow down on samples of deli meat that I was overcome by a wave of nausea and couldn’t think clearly.   </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Cheese samples?  Enticing. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Chocolate samples?  Scrumptious. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Free ice cream?  Irresistible.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Hunks of Deli Meat?  ??? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Must be a Mars/Venus thing. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Those Whole Paycheck peeps are not only clever, but efficient, because we worked our way up to the front of the line in no time.  Our piece of the trough included vanilla bean (with specks) ice cream, bananas, and chocolate syrup.  Whipped cream, sprinkles, and a rainbow of other assorted condiments awaited us at the next table. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was particularly excited about this because I love whipped cream almost as much as I love ice cream.  At Thanksgiving, you cannot see my pumpkin pie because it sits under a mountain of whipped cream.  Bring it on, and bring on lots of it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As I was daydreaming about which of the other condiments would grace my banana split, Melanie interrupted with, “This is how people get sick.  Think of all the germs.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I half-ignored her because a. I worked with preschool – 3<sup>rd</sup> graders for 16 years and am used to being around walking germ factories and b. there were spoons.  Seemed hygienic to me.  What was the problem? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Until Melanie pointed out that deli meat-sampling father and son were fondling the whipped cream can which made me want to dry heave.  For all we knew, deli meat boy also picked his nose 5 minutes prior. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This kind of stuff really happens because Marvin Zindler proved it to the good people of Houston on an Eyewitness News expose when I was a kid.  He shoveled his finger up his nose (for demonstration purposes only), marched into a Chinese restaurant, and shoved his hand in the mint dish faster than you could blink. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>You don’t see unwrapped mints sitting around in Chinese restaurants anymore, do you?  Hmmm?? You have Marvin to thank for that! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Anywho, no whipped cream needed this time around.  Melanie and I relished our rather plain but delicious sundae and called it a day.     </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Ater all, it’s all fun and games until someone gets sick. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-566\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172-225x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"225\" height=\"300\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 5:  I Scream, You Scream, Whole Foods Screams for...','','inherit','open','open','','405-revision-17','','','2010-09-20 21:29:41','2010-09-21 04:29:41','',405,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/20/405-revision-17/',0,'revision','',0),(587,1,'2010-09-20 21:29:50','2010-09-21 04:29:50','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a></p>\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_565\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"30 ft. Banana Split Leads to Rise in Lactaid Stock\"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-565\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n<p>I am an ice cream fiend.  Despite my overall health nut eating habits, I cannot say “no” to ice cream.  Ever.  And I don’t do low-fat ice cream either.  Ever.  Ice cream should be eaten in all its creamy and full-fat glory. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So when I was at the Whole Foods (or “Whole Paycheck”, as my Dad calls them) hot bar for lunch and saw a flyer inviting customers to partake in a 30 ft. banana split, I knew that this was my destiny. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I’m not even much of a banana split fan.  I’ve never seen any reason to add fruit to my ice cream in an attempt to make it healthier.  Eat the damn ice cream without guilt and save your 2-4 daily servings of fruit for another time!  There is absolutely no reason to mix business (fruit) with pleasure (ice cream) when you are indulging in frozen lusciousness.    </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I could deal with the bananas for this event, however, as it was a very special Whole Paycheck 30<sup>th</sup> Birthday Party.  Get it?  Turning 30 – 30 ft. banana split – 3 p.m. show time.  Those Whole Paycheck peeps are a clever bunch. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And since I have been shopping at Whole Paycheck for the past 25 of those 30 years, I am practically family and needed to attend.  30<sup>th</sup> birthdays are special, and I would have been a thoughtless wench for missing such a momentous day in a family member’s life. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>My friend Megan looked at me funny when I showed overexcitement upon finding the flyer.  Her thoughts? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“That sounds like a whole lotta germs to me.”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Oh, well.  I am way too much in touch with my inner child to worry about the grody details.  How many times in one’s life do you have the chance to dive into a 30 ft. sundae?  And as I just explained, this was a familial obligation, and those are always tricky to get out of. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I dragged my dear, sweet friend, Melanie, along with me.  She, too, is in touch with her inner child and almost always humors me in situations such as these. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Melanie and I camped out 20 minutes early so as to capture the banana split unveiling on film.  Or digital something-or-rather.  What <em>do</em> you call it these days? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Around 2:50 the vultures descended.  It was an ungodly 111 degrees outside, and I suppose this made people want free ice cream very, very badly.  The line was at least 200 feet long, I’d say. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>At 3 p.m. sharp, the 30 ft. banana split was laid out in segmented troughs.  I wasn’t the only dork waiting to document this super-sized split on digital something-or-rather.  I thought super-dorkman in front of me would never get out of the way to let me have my photo op!  I mean, I needed to do this for journalistic purposes.  What on earth did he need a photo of a 30 ft. phallic sundae for, and why did it take him 5 minutes to get the perfect shot??  Who knows.  Maybe <em>Food and Wine</em> sent him. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>After this photo frenzy, the crowd was then asked to sing “Happy Birthday” to Whole Paycheck.  I am not making this up.  How silly is that?  But I guess when it’s 111 outside, you’ll cluck like a chicken if you need to for free ice cream. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Even though we arrived at this shindig first, and even though I am family, Melanie and I technically were not in line and politely moved back 200 ft. to wait for our piece of the trough.  Now that I think of it, I should have suggested party games while we were waiting, but I was so distracted watching men and boys chow down on samples of deli meat that I was overcome by a wave of nausea and couldn’t think clearly.   </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Cheese samples?  Enticing. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Chocolate samples?  Scrumptious. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Free ice cream?  Irresistible.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Hunks of Deli Meat?  ??? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Must be a Mars/Venus thing. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Those Whole Paycheck peeps are not only clever, but efficient, because we worked our way up to the front of the line in no time.  Our piece of the trough included vanilla bean (with specks) ice cream, bananas, and chocolate syrup.  Whipped cream, sprinkles, and a rainbow of other assorted condiments awaited us at the next table. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was particularly excited about this because I love whipped cream almost as much as I love ice cream.  At Thanksgiving, you cannot see my pumpkin pie because it sits under a mountain of whipped cream.  Bring it on, and bring on lots of it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As I was daydreaming about which of the other condiments would grace my banana split, Melanie interrupted with, “This is how people get sick.  Think of all the germs.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I half-ignored her because a. I worked with preschool – 3<sup>rd</sup> graders for 16 years and am used to being around walking germ factories and b. there were spoons.  Seemed hygienic to me.  What was the problem? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Until Melanie pointed out that deli meat-sampling father and son were fondling the whipped cream can which made me want to dry heave.  For all we knew, deli meat boy also picked his nose 5 minutes prior. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This kind of stuff really happens because Marvin Zindler proved it to the good people of Houston on an Eyewitness News expose when I was a kid.  He shoveled his finger up his nose (for demonstration purposes only), marched into a Chinese restaurant, and shoved his hand in the mint dish faster than you could blink. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>You don’t see unwrapped mints sitting around in Chinese restaurants anymore, do you?  Hmmm?? You have Marvin to thank for that! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Anywho, no whipped cream needed this time around.  Melanie and I relished our rather plain but delicious sundae and called it a day.     </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>After all, it’s all fun and games until someone gets sick. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-566\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172-225x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"225\" height=\"300\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 5:  I Scream, You Scream, Whole Foods Screams for...','','inherit','open','open','','405-revision-18','','','2010-09-20 21:29:50','2010-09-21 04:29:50','',405,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/20/405-revision-18/',0,'revision','',0),(588,1,'2010-09-20 21:30:12','2010-09-21 04:30:12','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a></p>\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_565\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"30 ft. Banana Split Leads to Rise in Lactaid Stock\"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-565\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n<p>I am an ice cream fiend.  Despite my overall health nut eating habits, I cannot say “no” to ice cream.  Ever.  And I don’t do low-fat ice cream either.  Ever.  Ice cream should be eaten in all its creamy and full-fat glory. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So when I was at the Whole Foods (or “Whole Paycheck”, as my Dad calls them) hot bar for lunch and saw a flyer inviting customers to partake in a 30 ft. banana split, I knew that this was my destiny. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I’m not even much of a banana split fan.  I’ve never seen any reason to add fruit to my ice cream in an attempt to make it healthier.  Eat the damn ice cream without guilt and save your 2-4 daily servings of fruit for another time!  There is absolutely no reason to mix business (fruit) with pleasure (ice cream) when you are indulging in frozen lusciousness.    </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I could deal with the bananas for this event, however, as it was a very special Whole Paycheck 30<sup>th</sup> Birthday Party.  Get it?  Turning 30 – 30 ft. banana split – 3 p.m. show time.  Those Whole Paycheck peeps are a clever bunch. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And since I have been shopping at Whole Paycheck for the past 25 of those 30 years, I am practically family and needed to attend.  30<sup>th</sup> birthdays are special, and I would have been a thoughtless wench for missing such a momentous day in a family member’s life. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>My friend Megan looked at me funny when I showed overexcitement upon finding the flyer.  Her thoughts? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“That sounds like a whole lotta germs to me.”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Oh, well.  I am way too much in touch with my inner child to worry about the grody details.  How many times in one’s life do you have the chance to dive into a 30 ft. sundae?  And as I just explained, this was a familial obligation, and those are always tricky to get out of. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I dragged my dear, sweet friend, Melanie, along with me.  She, too, is in touch with her inner child and almost always humors me in situations such as these. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Melanie and I camped out 20 minutes early so as to capture the banana split unveiling on film.  Or digital something-or-rather.  What <em>do</em> you call it these days? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Around 2:50 the vultures descended.  It was an ungodly 111 degrees outside, and I suppose this made people want free ice cream very, very badly.  The line was at least 200 feet long, I’d say. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>At 3 p.m. sharp, the 30 ft. banana split was laid out in segmented troughs.  I wasn’t the only dork waiting to document this super-sized split on digital something-or-rather.  I thought super-dorkman in front of me would never get out of the way to let me have my photo op!  I mean, I needed to do this for journalistic purposes.  What on earth did he need a photo of a 30 ft. phallic sundae for, and why did it take him 5 minutes to get the perfect shot??  Who knows.  Maybe <em>Food and Wine</em> sent him. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>After this photo frenzy, the crowd was then asked to sing “Happy Birthday” to Whole Paycheck.  I am not making this up.  How silly is that?  But I guess when it’s 111 outside, you’ll cluck like a chicken if you need to for free ice cream. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Even though we arrived at this shindig first, and even though I am family, Melanie and I technically were not in line and politely moved back 200 ft. to wait for our piece of the trough.  Now that I think of it, I should have suggested party games while we were waiting, but I was so distracted watching men and boys chow down on samples of deli meat that I was overcome by a wave of nausea and couldn’t think clearly.   </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Cheese samples?  Enticing. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Chocolate samples?  Scrumptious. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Free ice cream?  Irresistible.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Hunks of Deli Meat?  ??? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Must be a Mars/Venus thing. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Those Whole Paycheck peeps are not only clever, but efficient, because we worked our way up to the front of the line in no time.  Our piece of the trough included vanilla bean (with specks) ice cream, bananas, and chocolate syrup.  Whipped cream, sprinkles, and a rainbow of other assorted condiments awaited us at the next table. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was particularly excited about this because I love whipped cream almost as much as I love ice cream.  At Thanksgiving, you cannot see my pumpkin pie because it sits under a mountain of whipped cream.  Bring it on, and bring on lots of it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As I was daydreaming about which of the other condiments would grace my banana split, Melanie interrupted with, “This is how people get sick.  Think of all the germs.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I half-ignored her because a. I worked with preschool – 3<sup>rd</sup> graders for 16 years and am used to being around walking germ factories and b. there were spoons.  Seemed hygienic to me.  What was the problem? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Until Melanie pointed out that deli meat-sampling father and son were fondling the whipped cream can which made me want to dry heave.  For all we knew, deli meat boy also picked his nose 5 minutes prior. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This kind of stuff really happens because Marvin Zindler proved it to the good people of Houston on an Eyewitness News expose when I was a kid.  He shoveled his finger up his nose (for demonstration purposes only), marched into a Chinese restaurant, and shoved his hand in the mint dish faster than you could blink. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>You don’t see unwrapped mints sitting around in Chinese restaurants anymore, do you?  Hmmm?? You have Marvin to thank for that! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Anywho, no whipped cream needed this time around.  Melanie and I relished our rather plain but delicious sundae and called it a day.     </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It’s all fun and games until someone gets sick. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-566\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172-225x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"225\" height=\"300\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 5:  I Scream, You Scream, Whole Foods Screams for...','','inherit','open','open','','405-revision-19','','','2010-09-20 21:30:12','2010-09-21 04:30:12','',405,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/20/405-revision-19/',0,'revision','',0),(589,1,'2010-09-20 21:30:40','2010-09-21 04:30:40','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a></p>\r\n\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\"> </div>\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_565\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"30 ft. Banana Split Leads to Rise in Lactaid Stock\"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-565\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n<p>I am an ice cream fiend.  Despite my overall health nut eating habits, I cannot say “no” to ice cream.  Ever.  And I don’t do low-fat ice cream either.  Ever.  Ice cream should be eaten in all its creamy and full-fat glory. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So when I was at the Whole Foods (or “Whole Paycheck”, as my Dad calls them) hot bar for lunch and saw a flyer inviting customers to partake in a 30 ft. banana split, I knew that this was my destiny. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I’m not even much of a banana split fan.  I’ve never seen any reason to add fruit to my ice cream in an attempt to make it healthier.  Eat the damn ice cream without guilt and save your 2-4 daily servings of fruit for another time!  There is absolutely no reason to mix business (fruit) with pleasure (ice cream) when you are indulging in frozen lusciousness.    </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I could deal with the bananas for this event, however, as it was a very special Whole Paycheck 30<sup>th</sup> Birthday Party.  Get it?  Turning 30 – 30 ft. banana split – 3 p.m. show time.  Those Whole Paycheck peeps are a clever bunch. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And since I have been shopping at Whole Paycheck for the past 25 of those 30 years, I am practically family and needed to attend.  30<sup>th</sup> birthdays are special, and I would have been a thoughtless wench for missing such a momentous day in a family member’s life. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>My friend Megan looked at me funny when I showed overexcitement upon finding the flyer.  Her thoughts? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“That sounds like a whole lotta germs to me.”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Oh, well.  I am way too much in touch with my inner child to worry about the grody details.  How many times in one’s life do you have the chance to dive into a 30 ft. sundae?  And as I just explained, this was a familial obligation, and those are always tricky to get out of. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I dragged my dear, sweet friend, Melanie, along with me.  She, too, is in touch with her inner child and almost always humors me in situations such as these. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Melanie and I camped out 20 minutes early so as to capture the banana split unveiling on film.  Or digital something-or-rather.  What <em>do</em> you call it these days? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Around 2:50 the vultures descended.  It was an ungodly 111 degrees outside, and I suppose this made people want free ice cream very, very badly.  The line was at least 200 feet long, I’d say. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>At 3 p.m. sharp, the 30 ft. banana split was laid out in segmented troughs.  I wasn’t the only dork waiting to document this super-sized split on digital something-or-rather.  I thought super-dorkman in front of me would never get out of the way to let me have my photo op!  I mean, I needed to do this for journalistic purposes.  What on earth did he need a photo of a 30 ft. phallic sundae for, and why did it take him 5 minutes to get the perfect shot??  Who knows.  Maybe <em>Food and Wine</em> sent him. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>After this photo frenzy, the crowd was then asked to sing “Happy Birthday” to Whole Paycheck.  I am not making this up.  How silly is that?  But I guess when it’s 111 outside, you’ll cluck like a chicken if you need to for free ice cream. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Even though we arrived at this shindig first, and even though I am family, Melanie and I technically were not in line and politely moved back 200 ft. to wait for our piece of the trough.  Now that I think of it, I should have suggested party games while we were waiting, but I was so distracted watching men and boys chow down on samples of deli meat that I was overcome by a wave of nausea and couldn’t think clearly.   </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Cheese samples?  Enticing. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Chocolate samples?  Scrumptious. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Free ice cream?  Irresistible.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Hunks of Deli Meat?  ??? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Must be a Mars/Venus thing. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Those Whole Paycheck peeps are not only clever, but efficient, because we worked our way up to the front of the line in no time.  Our piece of the trough included vanilla bean (with specks) ice cream, bananas, and chocolate syrup.  Whipped cream, sprinkles, and a rainbow of other assorted condiments awaited us at the next table. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was particularly excited about this because I love whipped cream almost as much as I love ice cream.  At Thanksgiving, you cannot see my pumpkin pie because it sits under a mountain of whipped cream.  Bring it on, and bring on lots of it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As I was daydreaming about which of the other condiments would grace my banana split, Melanie interrupted with, “This is how people get sick.  Think of all the germs.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I half-ignored her because a. I worked with preschool – 3<sup>rd</sup> graders for 16 years and am used to being around walking germ factories and b. there were spoons.  Seemed hygienic to me.  What was the problem? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Until Melanie pointed out that deli meat-sampling father and son were fondling the whipped cream can which made me want to dry heave.  For all we knew, deli meat boy also picked his nose 5 minutes prior. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This kind of stuff really happens because Marvin Zindler proved it to the good people of Houston on an Eyewitness News expose when I was a kid.  He shoveled his finger up his nose (for demonstration purposes only), marched into a Chinese restaurant, and shoved his hand in the mint dish faster than you could blink. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>You don’t see unwrapped mints sitting around in Chinese restaurants anymore, do you?  Hmmm?? You have Marvin to thank for that! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Anywho, no whipped cream needed this time around.  Melanie and I relished our rather plain but delicious sundae and called it a day.     </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It’s all fun and games until someone gets sick. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-566\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172-225x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"225\" height=\"300\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 5:  I Scream, You Scream, Whole Foods Screams for...','','inherit','open','open','','405-revision-20','','','2010-09-20 21:30:40','2010-09-21 04:30:40','',405,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/20/405-revision-20/',0,'revision','',0),(590,1,'2010-09-21 06:37:42','2010-09-21 13:37:42','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a></p>\n\n<div class=\"mceTemp\"> </div>\n\n<p>\n\n[caption id=\"attachment_565\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"30 ft. Banana Split Leads to Rise in Lactaid Stock\"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-565\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\n\n</p>\n\n<p>I am an ice cream fiend.  Despite my overall health nut eating habits, I cannot say “no” to ice cream.  Ever.  And I don’t do low-fat ice cream either.  Ever.  Ice cream should be eaten in all its creamy and full-fat glory. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>So when I was at the Whole Foods (or “Whole Paycheck”, as my Dad calls them) hot bar for lunch and saw a flyer inviting customers to partake in a 30 ft. banana split, I knew that this was my destiny. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I’m not even much of a banana split fan.  I’ve never seen any reason to add fruit to my ice cream in an attempt to make it healthier.  Eat the damn ice cream without guilt and save your 2-4 daily servings of fruit for another time!  There is absolutely no reason to mix business (fruit) with pleasure (ice cream) when you are indulging in frozen lusciousness.    </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I could deal with the bananas for this event, however, as it was a very special Whole Paycheck 30<sup>th</sup> Birthday Party.  Get it?  Turning 30 – 30 ft. banana split – 3 p.m. show time.  Those Whole Paycheck peeps are a clever bunch. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And since I have been shopping at Whole Paycheck for the past 25 of those 30 years, I am practically family and needed to attend.  30<sup>th</sup> birthdays are special, and I would have been a thoughtless wench for missing such a momentous day in a family member’s life. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>My friend Megan looked at me funny when I showed overexcitement upon finding the flyer.  Her thoughts? </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“That sounds like a whole lotta germs to me.”</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Oh, well.  I am way too much in touch with my inner child to worry about the grody details.  How many times in one’s life do you have the chance to dive into a 30 ft. sundae?  And as I just explained, this was a familial obligation, and those are always tricky to get out of. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I dragged my dear, sweet friend, Melanie, along with me.  She, too, is in touch with her inner child and almost always humors me in situations such as these. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Melanie and I camped out 20 minutes early so as to capture the banana split unveiling on film.  Or digital something-or-rather.  What <em>do</em> you call it these days? </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Around 2:50 the vultures descended.  It was an ungodly 111 degrees outside, and I suppose this made people want free ice cream very, very badly.  The line was at least 200 feet long, I’d say. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>At 3 p.m. sharp, the 30 ft. banana split was laid out in segmented troughs.  I wasn’t the only dork waiting to document this super-sized split on digital something-or-rather.  I thought super-dorkman in front of me would never get out of the way to let me have my photo op!  I mean, I needed to do this for journalistic purposes.  What on earth did he need a photo of a 30 ft. phallic sundae for, and why did it take him 5 minutes to get the perfect shot??  Who knows.  Maybe <em>Food and Wine</em> sent him. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>After this photo frenzy, the crowd was then asked to sing “Happy Birthday” to Whole Paycheck.  I am not making this up.  How silly is that?  But I guess when it’s 111 outside, you’ll cluck like a chicken if you need to for free ice cream. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Even though we arrived at this shindig first, and even though I am family, Melanie and I technically were not in line and politely moved back 200 ft. to wait for our piece of the trough.  Now that I think of it, I should have suggested party games while we were waiting, but I was so distracted watching men and boys fingering and chowing down on samples of deli meat that I was overcome by a wave of nausea and couldn’t think clearly.  </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Cheese samples?  Enticing. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Chocolate samples?  Scrumptious. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Free ice cream?  Irresistible.</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Hunks of Deli Meat?  ??? </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Must be a Mars/Venus thing. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Those Whole Paycheck peeps are not only clever, but efficient, because we worked our way up to the front of the line in no time.  Our piece of the trough included vanilla bean (with specks) ice cream, bananas, and chocolate syrup.  Whipped cream, sprinkles, and a rainbow of other assorted condiments awaited us at the next table. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I was particularly excited about this because I love whipped cream almost as much as I love ice cream.  At Thanksgiving, you cannot see my pumpkin pie because it sits under a mountain of whipped cream.  Bring it on, and bring on lots of it. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>As I was daydreaming about which of the other condiments would grace my banana split, Melanie interrupted with, “This is how people get sick.  Think of all the germs.” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I half-ignored her because a. I taught preschool – 3<sup>rd</sup> graders for 16 years and am used to being around walking germ factories and b. there were spoons.  Seemed hygienic to me.  What was the problem? </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Until Melanie pointed out that bare-handed deli meat-sampling father and son were now fondling the whipped cream can which made me want to dry heave.  For all we knew, deli meat boy also picked his nose 5 minutes prior. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>This kind of stuff really happens because Marvin Zindler proved it to the good people of Houston on an Eyewitness News expos when I was a kid.  He shoveled his finger up his nose (for demonstration purposes only), marched into a Chinese restaurant, and shoved his hand in the mint dish faster than you could blink. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>You don’t see unwrapped mints sitting around in Chinese restaurants anymore, do you?  Hmmm???  You have Marvin to thank for that! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Anywho, no whipped cream needed this time around.  Melanie and I relished our rather plain but delicious sundae and called it a day.     </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>It’s all fun and games until someone gets sick. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-566\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172-225x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"225\" height=\"300\" /></a></p>\n\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"></a> </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a> </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 5:  I Scream, You Scream, Whole Foods Screams for...','','inherit','open','open','','405-autosave','','','2010-09-21 06:37:42','2010-09-21 13:37:42','',405,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/20/405-autosave/',0,'revision','',0),(591,1,'2010-09-20 21:31:17','2010-09-21 04:31:17','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a></p>\r\n\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\"> </div>\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_565\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"30 ft. Banana Split Leads to Rise in Lactaid Stock\"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-565\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n<p>I am an ice cream fiend.  Despite my overall health nut eating habits, I cannot say “no” to ice cream.  Ever.  And I don’t do low-fat ice cream either.  Ever.  Ice cream should be eaten in all its creamy and full-fat glory. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So when I was at the Whole Foods (or “Whole Paycheck”, as my Dad calls them) hot bar for lunch and saw a flyer inviting customers to partake in a 30 ft. banana split, I knew that this was my destiny. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I’m not even much of a banana split fan.  I’ve never seen any reason to add fruit to my ice cream in an attempt to make it healthier.  Eat the damn ice cream without guilt and save your 2-4 daily servings of fruit for another time!  There is absolutely no reason to mix business (fruit) with pleasure (ice cream) when you are indulging in frozen lusciousness.    </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I could deal with the bananas for this event, however, as it was a very special Whole Paycheck 30<sup>th</sup> Birthday Party.  Get it?  Turning 30 – 30 ft. banana split – 3 p.m. show time.  Those Whole Paycheck peeps are a clever bunch. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And since I have been shopping at Whole Paycheck for the past 25 of those 30 years, I am practically family and needed to attend.  30<sup>th</sup> birthdays are special, and I would have been a thoughtless wench for missing such a momentous day in a family member’s life. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>My friend Megan looked at me funny when I showed overexcitement upon finding the flyer.  Her thoughts? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“That sounds like a whole lotta germs to me.”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Oh, well.  I am way too much in touch with my inner child to worry about the grody details.  How many times in one’s life do you have the chance to dive into a 30 ft. sundae?  And as I just explained, this was a familial obligation, and those are always tricky to get out of. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I dragged my dear, sweet friend, Melanie, along with me.  She, too, is in touch with her inner child and almost always humors me in situations such as these. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Melanie and I camped out 20 minutes early so as to capture the banana split unveiling on film.  Or digital something-or-rather.  What <em>do</em> you call it these days? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Around 2:50 the vultures descended.  It was an ungodly 111 degrees outside, and I suppose this made people want free ice cream very, very badly.  The line was at least 200 feet long, I’d say. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>At 3 p.m. sharp, the 30 ft. banana split was laid out in segmented troughs.  I wasn’t the only dork waiting to document this super-sized split on digital something-or-rather.  I thought super-dorkman in front of me would never get out of the way to let me have my photo op!  I mean, I needed to do this for journalistic purposes.  What on earth did he need a photo of a 30 ft. phallic sundae for, and why did it take him 5 minutes to get the perfect shot??  Who knows.  Maybe <em>Food and Wine</em> sent him. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>After this photo frenzy, the crowd was then asked to sing “Happy Birthday” to Whole Paycheck.  I am not making this up.  How silly is that?  But I guess when it’s 111 outside, you’ll cluck like a chicken if you need to for free ice cream. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Even though we arrived at this shindig first, and even though I am family, Melanie and I technically were not in line and politely moved back 200 ft. to wait for our piece of the trough.  Now that I think of it, I should have suggested party games while we were waiting, but I was so distracted watching men and boys chow down on samples of deli meat that I was overcome by a wave of nausea and couldn’t think clearly.   </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Cheese samples?  Enticing. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Chocolate samples?  Scrumptious. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Free ice cream?  Irresistible.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Hunks of Deli Meat?  ??? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Must be a Mars/Venus thing. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Those Whole Paycheck peeps are not only clever, but efficient, because we worked our way up to the front of the line in no time.  Our piece of the trough included vanilla bean (with specks) ice cream, bananas, and chocolate syrup.  Whipped cream, sprinkles, and a rainbow of other assorted condiments awaited us at the next table. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was particularly excited about this because I love whipped cream almost as much as I love ice cream.  At Thanksgiving, you cannot see my pumpkin pie because it sits under a mountain of whipped cream.  Bring it on, and bring on lots of it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As I was daydreaming about which of the other condiments would grace my banana split, Melanie interrupted with, “This is how people get sick.  Think of all the germs.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I half-ignored her because a. I worked with preschool – 3<sup>rd</sup> graders for 16 years and am used to being around walking germ factories and b. there were spoons.  Seemed hygienic to me.  What was the problem? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Until Melanie pointed out that deli meat-sampling father and son were fondling the whipped cream can which made me want to dry heave.  For all we knew, deli meat boy also picked his nose 5 minutes prior. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This kind of stuff really happens because Marvin Zindler proved it to the good people of Houston on an Eyewitness News expose when I was a kid.  He shoveled his finger up his nose (for demonstration purposes only), marched into a Chinese restaurant, and shoved his hand in the mint dish faster than you could blink. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>You don’t see unwrapped mints sitting around in Chinese restaurants anymore, do you?  Hmmm?? You have Marvin to thank for that! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Anywho, no whipped cream needed this time around.  Melanie and I relished our rather plain but delicious sundae and called it a day.     </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It’s all fun and games until someone gets sick. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-566\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172-225x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"225\" height=\"300\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 5:  I Scream, You Scream, Whole Foods Screams for...','','inherit','open','open','','405-revision-21','','','2010-09-20 21:31:17','2010-09-21 04:31:17','',405,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/20/405-revision-21/',0,'revision','',0),(592,1,'2010-09-20 21:32:36','2010-09-21 04:32:36','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a></p>\r\n\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\"> </div>\r\n\r\n<p>\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_565\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"30 ft. Banana Split Leads to Rise in Lactaid Stock\"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-565\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am an ice cream fiend.  Despite my overall health nut eating habits, I cannot say “no” to ice cream.  Ever.  And I don’t do low-fat ice cream either.  Ever.  Ice cream should be eaten in all its creamy and full-fat glory. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So when I was at the Whole Foods (or “Whole Paycheck”, as my Dad calls them) hot bar for lunch and saw a flyer inviting customers to partake in a 30 ft. banana split, I knew that this was my destiny. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I’m not even much of a banana split fan.  I’ve never seen any reason to add fruit to my ice cream in an attempt to make it healthier.  Eat the damn ice cream without guilt and save your 2-4 daily servings of fruit for another time!  There is absolutely no reason to mix business (fruit) with pleasure (ice cream) when you are indulging in frozen lusciousness.    </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I could deal with the bananas for this event, however, as it was a very special Whole Paycheck 30<sup>th</sup> Birthday Party.  Get it?  Turning 30 – 30 ft. banana split – 3 p.m. show time.  Those Whole Paycheck peeps are a clever bunch. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And since I have been shopping at Whole Paycheck for the past 25 of those 30 years, I am practically family and needed to attend.  30<sup>th</sup> birthdays are special, and I would have been a thoughtless wench for missing such a momentous day in a family member’s life. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>My friend Megan looked at me funny when I showed overexcitement upon finding the flyer.  Her thoughts? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“That sounds like a whole lotta germs to me.”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Oh, well.  I am way too much in touch with my inner child to worry about the grody details.  How many times in one’s life do you have the chance to dive into a 30 ft. sundae?  And as I just explained, this was a familial obligation, and those are always tricky to get out of. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I dragged my dear, sweet friend, Melanie, along with me.  She, too, is in touch with her inner child and almost always humors me in situations such as these. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Melanie and I camped out 20 minutes early so as to capture the banana split unveiling on film.  Or digital something-or-rather.  What <em>do</em> you call it these days? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Around 2:50 the vultures descended.  It was an ungodly 111 degrees outside, and I suppose this made people want free ice cream very, very badly.  The line was at least 200 feet long, I’d say. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>At 3 p.m. sharp, the 30 ft. banana split was laid out in segmented troughs.  I wasn’t the only dork waiting to document this super-sized split on digital something-or-rather.  I thought super-dorkman in front of me would never get out of the way to let me have my photo op!  I mean, I needed to do this for journalistic purposes.  What on earth did he need a photo of a 30 ft. phallic sundae for, and why did it take him 5 minutes to get the perfect shot??  Who knows.  Maybe <em>Food and Wine</em> sent him. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>After this photo frenzy, the crowd was then asked to sing “Happy Birthday” to Whole Paycheck.  I am not making this up.  How silly is that?  But I guess when it’s 111 outside, you’ll cluck like a chicken if you need to for free ice cream. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Even though we arrived at this shindig first, and even though I am family, Melanie and I technically were not in line and politely moved back 200 ft. to wait for our piece of the trough.  Now that I think of it, I should have suggested party games while we were waiting, but I was so distracted watching men and boys chow down on samples of deli meat that I was overcome by a wave of nausea and couldn’t think clearly.   </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Cheese samples?  Enticing. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Chocolate samples?  Scrumptious. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Free ice cream?  Irresistible.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Hunks of Deli Meat?  ??? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Must be a Mars/Venus thing. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Those Whole Paycheck peeps are not only clever, but efficient, because we worked our way up to the front of the line in no time.  Our piece of the trough included vanilla bean (with specks) ice cream, bananas, and chocolate syrup.  Whipped cream, sprinkles, and a rainbow of other assorted condiments awaited us at the next table. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was particularly excited about this because I love whipped cream almost as much as I love ice cream.  At Thanksgiving, you cannot see my pumpkin pie because it sits under a mountain of whipped cream.  Bring it on, and bring on lots of it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As I was daydreaming about which of the other condiments would grace my banana split, Melanie interrupted with, “This is how people get sick.  Think of all the germs.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I half-ignored her because a. I worked with preschool – 3<sup>rd</sup> graders for 16 years and am used to being around walking germ factories and b. there were spoons.  Seemed hygienic to me.  What was the problem? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Until Melanie pointed out that deli meat-sampling father and son were fondling the whipped cream can which made me want to dry heave.  For all we knew, deli meat boy also picked his nose 5 minutes prior. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This kind of stuff really happens because Marvin Zindler proved it to the good people of Houston on an Eyewitness News expose when I was a kid.  He shoveled his finger up his nose (for demonstration purposes only), marched into a Chinese restaurant, and shoved his hand in the mint dish faster than you could blink. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>You don’t see unwrapped mints sitting around in Chinese restaurants anymore, do you?  Hmmm???  You have Marvin to thank for that! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Anywho, no whipped cream needed this time around.  Melanie and I relished our rather plain but delicious sundae and called it a day.     </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It’s all fun and games until someone gets sick. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-566\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172-225x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"225\" height=\"300\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 5:  I Scream, You Scream, Whole Foods Screams for...','','inherit','open','open','','405-revision-22','','','2010-09-20 21:32:36','2010-09-21 04:32:36','',405,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/20/405-revision-22/',0,'revision','',0),(593,1,'2010-09-20 21:33:59','2010-09-21 04:33:59','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a></p>\r\n\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\"> </div>\r\n\r\n<p>\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_565\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"30 ft. Banana Split Leads to Rise in Lactaid Stock\"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-565\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am an ice cream fiend.  Despite my overall health nut eating habits, I cannot say “no” to ice cream.  Ever.  And I don’t do low-fat ice cream either.  Ever.  Ice cream should be eaten in all its creamy and full-fat glory. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So when I was at the Whole Foods (or “Whole Paycheck”, as my Dad calls them) hot bar for lunch and saw a flyer inviting customers to partake in a 30 ft. banana split, I knew that this was my destiny. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I’m not even much of a banana split fan.  I’ve never seen any reason to add fruit to my ice cream in an attempt to make it healthier.  Eat the damn ice cream without guilt and save your 2-4 daily servings of fruit for another time!  There is absolutely no reason to mix business (fruit) with pleasure (ice cream) when you are indulging in frozen lusciousness.    </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I could deal with the bananas for this event, however, as it was a very special Whole Paycheck 30<sup>th</sup> Birthday Party.  Get it?  Turning 30 – 30 ft. banana split – 3 p.m. show time.  Those Whole Paycheck peeps are a clever bunch. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And since I have been shopping at Whole Paycheck for the past 25 of those 30 years, I am practically family and needed to attend.  30<sup>th</sup> birthdays are special, and I would have been a thoughtless wench for missing such a momentous day in a family member’s life. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>My friend Megan looked at me funny when I showed overexcitement upon finding the flyer.  Her thoughts? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“That sounds like a whole lotta germs to me.”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Oh, well.  I am way too much in touch with my inner child to worry about the grody details.  How many times in one’s life do you have the chance to dive into a 30 ft. sundae?  And as I just explained, this was a familial obligation, and those are always tricky to get out of. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I dragged my dear, sweet friend, Melanie, along with me.  She, too, is in touch with her inner child and almost always humors me in situations such as these. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Melanie and I camped out 20 minutes early so as to capture the banana split unveiling on film.  Or digital something-or-rather.  What <em>do</em> you call it these days? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Around 2:50 the vultures descended.  It was an ungodly 111 degrees outside, and I suppose this made people want free ice cream very, very badly.  The line was at least 200 feet long, I’d say. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>At 3 p.m. sharp, the 30 ft. banana split was laid out in segmented troughs.  I wasn’t the only dork waiting to document this super-sized split on digital something-or-rather.  I thought super-dorkman in front of me would never get out of the way to let me have my photo op!  I mean, I needed to do this for journalistic purposes.  What on earth did he need a photo of a 30 ft. phallic sundae for, and why did it take him 5 minutes to get the perfect shot??  Who knows.  Maybe <em>Food and Wine</em> sent him. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>After this photo frenzy, the crowd was then asked to sing “Happy Birthday” to Whole Paycheck.  I am not making this up.  How silly is that?  But I guess when it’s 111 outside, you’ll cluck like a chicken if you need to for free ice cream. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Even though we arrived at this shindig first, and even though I am family, Melanie and I technically were not in line and politely moved back 200 ft. to wait for our piece of the trough.  Now that I think of it, I should have suggested party games while we were waiting, but I was so distracted watching men and boys chow down on samples of deli meat that I was overcome by a wave of nausea and couldn’t think clearly.   </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Cheese samples?  Enticing. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Chocolate samples?  Scrumptious. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Free ice cream?  Irresistible.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Hunks of Deli Meat?  ??? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Must be a Mars/Venus thing. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Those Whole Paycheck peeps are not only clever, but efficient, because we worked our way up to the front of the line in no time.  Our piece of the trough included vanilla bean (with specks) ice cream, bananas, and chocolate syrup.  Whipped cream, sprinkles, and a rainbow of other assorted condiments awaited us at the next table. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was particularly excited about this because I love whipped cream almost as much as I love ice cream.  At Thanksgiving, you cannot see my pumpkin pie because it sits under a mountain of whipped cream.  Bring it on, and bring on lots of it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As I was daydreaming about which of the other condiments would grace my banana split, Melanie interrupted with, “This is how people get sick.  Think of all the germs.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I half-ignored her because a. I worked with preschool – 3<sup>rd</sup> graders for 16 years and am used to being around walking germ factories and b. there were spoons.  Seemed hygienic to me.  What was the problem? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Until Melanie pointed out that deli meat-sampling father and son were fondling the whipped cream can which made me want to dry heave.  For all we knew, deli meat boy also picked his nose 5 minutes prior. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This kind of stuff really happens because Marvin Zindler proved it to the good people of Houston on an Eyewitness News expose when I was a kid.  He shoveled his finger up his nose (for demonstration purposes only), marched into a Chinese restaurant, and shoved his hand in the mint dish faster than you could blink. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>You don’t see unwrapped mints sitting around in Chinese restaurants anymore, do you?  Hmmm???  You have Marvin to thank for that! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Anywho, no whipped cream needed this time around.  Melanie and I relished our rather plain but delicious sundae and called it a day.     </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It’s all fun and games until someone gets sick. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-566\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172-225x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"225\" height=\"300\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 5:  I Scream, You Scream, Whole Foods Screams for...','','inherit','open','open','','405-revision-23','','','2010-09-20 21:33:59','2010-09-21 04:33:59','',405,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/20/405-revision-23/',0,'revision','',0),(594,1,'2010-09-20 21:34:47','2010-09-21 04:34:47','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a></p>\r\n\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\"> </div>\r\n\r\n<p>\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_565\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"30 ft. Banana Split Leads to Rise in Lactaid Stock\"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-565\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am an ice cream fiend.  Despite my overall health nut eating habits, I cannot say “no” to ice cream.  Ever.  And I don’t do low-fat ice cream either.  Ever.  Ice cream should be eaten in all its creamy and full-fat glory. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So when I was at the Whole Foods (or “Whole Paycheck”, as my Dad calls them) hot bar for lunch and saw a flyer inviting customers to partake in a 30 ft. banana split, I knew that this was my destiny. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I’m not even much of a banana split fan.  I’ve never seen any reason to add fruit to my ice cream in an attempt to make it healthier.  Eat the damn ice cream without guilt and save your 2-4 daily servings of fruit for another time!  There is absolutely no reason to mix business (fruit) with pleasure (ice cream) when you are indulging in frozen lusciousness.    </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I could deal with the bananas for this event, however, as it was a very special Whole Paycheck 30<sup>th</sup> Birthday Party.  Get it?  Turning 30 – 30 ft. banana split – 3 p.m. show time.  Those Whole Paycheck peeps are a clever bunch. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And since I have been shopping at Whole Paycheck for the past 25 of those 30 years, I am practically family and needed to attend.  30<sup>th</sup> birthdays are special, and I would have been a thoughtless wench for missing such a momentous day in a family member’s life. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>My friend Megan looked at me funny when I showed overexcitement upon finding the flyer.  Her thoughts? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“That sounds like a whole lotta germs to me.”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Oh, well.  I am way too much in touch with my inner child to worry about the grody details.  How many times in one’s life do you have the chance to dive into a 30 ft. sundae?  And as I just explained, this was a familial obligation, and those are always tricky to get out of. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I dragged my dear, sweet friend, Melanie, along with me.  She, too, is in touch with her inner child and almost always humors me in situations such as these. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Melanie and I camped out 20 minutes early so as to capture the banana split unveiling on film.  Or digital something-or-rather.  What <em>do</em> you call it these days? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Around 2:50 the vultures descended.  It was an ungodly 111 degrees outside, and I suppose this made people want free ice cream very, very badly.  The line was at least 200 feet long, I’d say. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>At 3 p.m. sharp, the 30 ft. banana split was laid out in segmented troughs.  I wasn’t the only dork waiting to document this super-sized split on digital something-or-rather.  I thought super-dorkman in front of me would never get out of the way to let me have my photo op!  I mean, I needed to do this for journalistic purposes.  What on earth did he need a photo of a 30 ft. phallic sundae for, and why did it take him 5 minutes to get the perfect shot??  Who knows.  Maybe <em>Food and Wine</em> sent him. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>After this photo frenzy, the crowd was then asked to sing “Happy Birthday” to Whole Paycheck.  I am not making this up.  How silly is that?  But I guess when it’s 111 outside, you’ll cluck like a chicken if you need to for free ice cream. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Even though we arrived at this shindig first, and even though I am family, Melanie and I technically were not in line and politely moved back 200 ft. to wait for our piece of the trough.  Now that I think of it, I should have suggested party games while we were waiting, but I was so distracted watching men and boys chow down on samples of deli meat that I was overcome by a wave of nausea and couldn’t think clearly.   </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Cheese samples?  Enticing. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Chocolate samples?  Scrumptious. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Free ice cream?  Irresistible.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Hunks of Deli Meat?  ??? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Must be a Mars/Venus thing. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Those Whole Paycheck peeps are not only clever, but efficient, because we worked our way up to the front of the line in no time.  Our piece of the trough included vanilla bean (with specks) ice cream, bananas, and chocolate syrup.  Whipped cream, sprinkles, and a rainbow of other assorted condiments awaited us at the next table. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was particularly excited about this because I love whipped cream almost as much as I love ice cream.  At Thanksgiving, you cannot see my pumpkin pie because it sits under a mountain of whipped cream.  Bring it on, and bring on lots of it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As I was daydreaming about which of the other condiments would grace my banana split, Melanie interrupted with, “This is how people get sick.  Think of all the germs.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I half-ignored her because a. I worked with preschool – 3<sup>rd</sup> graders for 16 years and am used to being around walking germ factories and b. there were spoons.  Seemed hygienic to me.  What was the problem? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Until Melanie pointed out that deli meat-sampling father and son were fondling the whipped cream can which made me want to dry heave.  For all we knew, deli meat boy also picked his nose 5 minutes prior. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This kind of stuff really happens because Marvin Zindler proved it to the good people of Houston on an Eyewitness News expose when I was a kid.  He shoveled his finger up his nose (for demonstration purposes only), marched into a Chinese restaurant, and shoved his hand in the mint dish faster than you could blink. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>You don’t see unwrapped mints sitting around in Chinese restaurants anymore, do you?  Hmmm???  You have Marvin to thank for that! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Anywho, no whipped cream needed this time around.  Melanie and I relished our rather plain but delicious sundae and called it a day.     </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It’s all fun and games until someone gets sick. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-566\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172-225x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"225\" height=\"300\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 5:  I Scream, You Scream, Whole Foods Screams for...','','inherit','open','open','','405-revision-24','','','2010-09-20 21:34:47','2010-09-21 04:34:47','',405,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/20/405-revision-24/',0,'revision','',0),(597,1,'2010-09-20 21:36:37','2010-09-21 04:36:37','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a></p>\r\n\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\"> </div>\r\n\r\n<p>\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_565\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"30 ft. Banana Split Leads to Rise in Lactaid Stock\"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-565\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am an ice cream fiend.  Despite my overall health nut eating habits, I cannot say “no” to ice cream.  Ever.  And I don’t do low-fat ice cream either.  Ever.  Ice cream should be eaten in all its creamy and full-fat glory. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So when I was at the Whole Foods (or “Whole Paycheck”, as my Dad calls them) hot bar for lunch and saw a flyer inviting customers to partake in a 30 ft. banana split, I knew that this was my destiny. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I’m not even much of a banana split fan.  I’ve never seen any reason to add fruit to my ice cream in an attempt to make it healthier.  Eat the damn ice cream without guilt and save your 2-4 daily servings of fruit for another time!  There is absolutely no reason to mix business (fruit) with pleasure (ice cream) when you are indulging in frozen lusciousness.    </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I could deal with the bananas for this event, however, as it was a very special Whole Paycheck 30<sup>th</sup> Birthday Party.  Get it?  Turning 30 – 30 ft. banana split – 3 p.m. show time.  Those Whole Paycheck peeps are a clever bunch. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And since I have been shopping at Whole Paycheck for the past 25 of those 30 years, I am practically family and needed to attend.  30<sup>th</sup> birthdays are special, and I would have been a thoughtless wench for missing such a momentous day in a family member’s life. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>My friend Megan looked at me funny when I showed overexcitement upon finding the flyer.  Her thoughts? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“That sounds like a whole lotta germs to me.”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Oh, well.  I am way too much in touch with my inner child to worry about the grody details.  How many times in one’s life do you have the chance to dive into a 30 ft. sundae?  And as I just explained, this was a familial obligation, and those are always tricky to get out of. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I dragged my dear, sweet friend, Melanie, along with me.  She, too, is in touch with her inner child and almost always humors me in situations such as these. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Melanie and I camped out 20 minutes early so as to capture the banana split unveiling on film.  Or digital something-or-rather.  What <em>do</em> you call it these days? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Around 2:50 the vultures descended.  It was an ungodly 111 degrees outside, and I suppose this made people want free ice cream very, very badly.  The line was at least 200 feet long, I’d say. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>At 3 p.m. sharp, the 30 ft. banana split was laid out in segmented troughs.  I wasn’t the only dork waiting to document this super-sized split on digital something-or-rather.  I thought super-dorkman in front of me would never get out of the way to let me have my photo op!  I mean, I needed to do this for journalistic purposes.  What on earth did he need a photo of a 30 ft. phallic sundae for, and why did it take him 5 minutes to get the perfect shot??  Who knows.  Maybe <em>Food and Wine</em> sent him. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>After this photo frenzy, the crowd was then asked to sing “Happy Birthday” to Whole Paycheck.  I am not making this up.  How silly is that?  But I guess when it’s 111 outside, you’ll cluck like a chicken if you need to for free ice cream. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Even though we arrived at this shindig first, and even though I am family, Melanie and I technically were not in line and politely moved back 200 ft. to wait for our piece of the trough.  Now that I think of it, I should have suggested party games while we were waiting, but I was so distracted watching men and boys chow down on samples of deli meat that I was overcome by a wave of nausea and couldn’t think clearly.   </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Cheese samples?  Enticing. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Chocolate samples?  Scrumptious. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Free ice cream?  Irresistible.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Hunks of Deli Meat?  ??? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Must be a Mars/Venus thing. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Those Whole Paycheck peeps are not only clever, but efficient, because we worked our way up to the front of the line in no time.  Our piece of the trough included vanilla bean (with specks) ice cream, bananas, and chocolate syrup.  Whipped cream, sprinkles, and a rainbow of other assorted condiments awaited us at the next table. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was particularly excited about this because I love whipped cream almost as much as I love ice cream.  At Thanksgiving, you cannot see my pumpkin pie because it sits under a mountain of whipped cream.  Bring it on, and bring on lots of it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As I was daydreaming about which of the other condiments would grace my banana split, Melanie interrupted with, “This is how people get sick.  Think of all the germs.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I half-ignored her because a. I worked with preschool – 3<sup>rd</sup> graders for 16 years and am used to being around walking germ factories and b. there were spoons.  Seemed hygienic to me.  What was the problem? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Until Melanie pointed out that deli meat-sampling father and son were fondling the whipped cream can which made me want to dry heave.  For all we knew, deli meat boy also picked his nose 5 minutes prior. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This kind of stuff really happens because Marvin Zindler proved it to the good people of Houston on an Eyewitness News expose when I was a kid.  He shoveled his finger up his nose (for demonstration purposes only), marched into a Chinese restaurant, and shoved his hand in the mint dish faster than you could blink. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>You don’t see unwrapped mints sitting around in Chinese restaurants anymore, do you?  Hmmm???  You have Marvin to thank for that! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Anywho, no whipped cream needed this time around.  Melanie and I relished our rather plain but delicious sundae and called it a day.     </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It’s all fun and games until someone gets sick. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-566\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172-225x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"225\" height=\"300\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 5:  I Scream, You Scream, Whole Foods Screams for...','','inherit','open','open','','405-revision-27','','','2010-09-20 21:36:37','2010-09-21 04:36:37','',405,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/20/405-revision-27/',0,'revision','',0),(596,1,'2010-09-20 21:35:56','2010-09-21 04:35:56','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\"> </div>\r\n<p>[caption id=\"attachment_565\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"30 ft. Banana Split Leads to Rise in Lactaid Stock\"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-565\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]</p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>I am an ice cream fiend.  Despite my overall health nut eating habits, I cannot say “no” to ice cream.  Ever.  And I don’t do low-fat ice cream either.  Ever.  Ice cream should be eaten in all its creamy and full-fat glory. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>So when I was at the Whole Foods (or “Whole Paycheck”, as my Dad calls them) hot bar for lunch and saw a flyer inviting customers to partake in a 30 ft. banana split, I knew that this was my destiny. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>I’m not even much of a banana split fan.  I’ve never seen any reason to add fruit to my ice cream in an attempt to make it healthier.  Eat the damn ice cream without guilt and save your 2-4 daily servings of fruit for another time!  There is absolutely no reason to mix business (fruit) with pleasure (ice cream) when you are indulging in frozen lusciousness.    </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>I could deal with the bananas for this event, however, as it was a very special Whole Paycheck 30<sup>th</sup> Birthday Party.  Get it?  Turning 30 – 30 ft. banana split – 3 p.m. show time.  Those Whole Paycheck peeps are a clever bunch. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>And since I have been shopping at Whole Paycheck for the past 25 of those 30 years, I am practically family and needed to attend.  30<sup>th</sup> birthdays are special, and I would have been a thoughtless wench for missing such a momentous day in a family member’s life. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>My friend Megan looked at me funny when I showed overexcitement upon finding the flyer.  Her thoughts? </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>“That sounds like a whole lotta germs to me.”</p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Oh, well.  I am way too much in touch with my inner child to worry about the grody details.  How many times in one’s life do you have the chance to dive into a 30 ft. sundae?  And as I just explained, this was a familial obligation, and those are always tricky to get out of. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>I dragged my dear, sweet friend, Melanie, along with me.  She, too, is in touch with her inner child and almost always humors me in situations such as these. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Melanie and I camped out 20 minutes early so as to capture the banana split unveiling on film.  Or digital something-or-rather.  What <em>do</em> you call it these days? </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Around 2:50 the vultures descended.  It was an ungodly 111 degrees outside, and I suppose this made people want free ice cream very, very badly.  The line was at least 200 feet long, I’d say. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>At 3 p.m. sharp, the 30 ft. banana split was laid out in segmented troughs.  I wasn’t the only dork waiting to document this super-sized split on digital something-or-rather.  I thought super-dorkman in front of me would never get out of the way to let me have my photo op!  I mean, I needed to do this for journalistic purposes.  What on earth did he need a photo of a 30 ft. phallic sundae for, and why did it take him 5 minutes to get the perfect shot??  Who knows.  Maybe <em>Food and Wine</em> sent him. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>After this photo frenzy, the crowd was then asked to sing “Happy Birthday” to Whole Paycheck.  I am not making this up.  How silly is that?  But I guess when it’s 111 outside, you’ll cluck like a chicken if you need to for free ice cream. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Even though we arrived at this shindig first, and even though I am family, Melanie and I technically were not in line and politely moved back 200 ft. to wait for our piece of the trough.  Now that I think of it, I should have suggested party games while we were waiting, but I was so distracted watching men and boys chow down on samples of deli meat that I was overcome by a wave of nausea and couldn’t think clearly.   </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Cheese samples?  Enticing. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Chocolate samples?  Scrumptious. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Free ice cream?  Irresistible.</p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Hunks of Deli Meat?  ??? </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Must be a Mars/Venus thing. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Those Whole Paycheck peeps are not only clever, but efficient, because we worked our way up to the front of the line in no time.  Our piece of the trough included vanilla bean (with specks) ice cream, bananas, and chocolate syrup.  Whipped cream, sprinkles, and a rainbow of other assorted condiments awaited us at the next table. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>I was particularly excited about this because I love whipped cream almost as much as I love ice cream.  At Thanksgiving, you cannot see my pumpkin pie because it sits under a mountain of whipped cream.  Bring it on, and bring on lots of it. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>As I was daydreaming about which of the other condiments would grace my banana split, Melanie interrupted with, “This is how people get sick.  Think of all the germs.” </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>I half-ignored her because a. I worked with preschool – 3<sup>rd</sup> graders for 16 years and am used to being around walking germ factories and b. there were spoons.  Seemed hygienic to me.  What was the problem? </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Until Melanie pointed out that deli meat-sampling father and son were fondling the whipped cream can which made me want to dry heave.  For all we knew, deli meat boy also picked his nose 5 minutes prior. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>This kind of stuff really happens because Marvin Zindler proved it to the good people of Houston on an Eyewitness News expose when I was a kid.  He shoveled his finger up his nose (for demonstration purposes only), marched into a Chinese restaurant, and shoved his hand in the mint dish faster than you could blink. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>You don’t see unwrapped mints sitting around in Chinese restaurants anymore, do you?  Hmmm???  You have Marvin to thank for that! </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Anywho, no whipped cream needed this time around.  Melanie and I relished our rather plain but delicious sundae and called it a day.     </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>It’s all fun and games until someone gets sick. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-566\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172-225x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"225\" height=\"300\" /></a></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p> </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p> </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p> </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /> </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n</p>\r\n</p>\r\n</p>\r\n</p>\r\n</p>\r\n</p>\r\n</p>\r\n</p>\r\n</p>\r\n</p>\r\n</p>\r\n</p>\r\n</p>\r\n</p>\r\n</p>\r\n</p>\r\n</p>\r\n</p>\r\n</p>\r\n</p>\r\n</p>\r\n</p>\r\n</p>\r\n</p>\r\n</p>\r\n</p>\r\n</p>\r\n</p>\r\n</p>\r\n</p>\r\n</p>\r\n</p>\r\n</p>\r\n</p>\r\n</p>\r\n</p>\r\n</p>\r\n</p></p>\r\n','Day 5:  I Scream, You Scream, Whole Foods Screams for...','','inherit','open','open','','405-revision-26','','','2010-09-20 21:35:56','2010-09-21 04:35:56','',405,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/20/405-revision-26/',0,'revision','',0),(595,1,'2010-09-20 21:35:10','2010-09-21 04:35:10','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\"> </div>\r\n\r\n<p>\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_565\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"30 ft. Banana Split Leads to Rise in Lactaid Stock\"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-565\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am an ice cream fiend.  Despite my overall health nut eating habits, I cannot say “no” to ice cream.  Ever.  And I don’t do low-fat ice cream either.  Ever.  Ice cream should be eaten in all its creamy and full-fat glory. \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So when I was at the Whole Foods (or “Whole Paycheck”, as my Dad calls them) hot bar for lunch and saw a flyer inviting customers to partake in a 30 ft. banana split, I knew that this was my destiny. \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I’m not even much of a banana split fan.  I’ve never seen any reason to add fruit to my ice cream in an attempt to make it healthier.  Eat the damn ice cream without guilt and save your 2-4 daily servings of fruit for another time!  There is absolutely no reason to mix business (fruit) with pleasure (ice cream) when you are indulging in frozen lusciousness.    \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I could deal with the bananas for this event, however, as it was a very special Whole Paycheck 30<sup>th</sup> Birthday Party.  Get it?  Turning 30 – 30 ft. banana split – 3 p.m. show time.  Those Whole Paycheck peeps are a clever bunch. \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And since I have been shopping at Whole Paycheck for the past 25 of those 30 years, I am practically family and needed to attend.  30<sup>th</sup> birthdays are special, and I would have been a thoughtless wench for missing such a momentous day in a family member’s life. \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>My friend Megan looked at me funny when I showed overexcitement upon finding the flyer.  Her thoughts? \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“That sounds like a whole lotta germs to me.”\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Oh, well.  I am way too much in touch with my inner child to worry about the grody details.  How many times in one’s life do you have the chance to dive into a 30 ft. sundae?  And as I just explained, this was a familial obligation, and those are always tricky to get out of. \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I dragged my dear, sweet friend, Melanie, along with me.  She, too, is in touch with her inner child and almost always humors me in situations such as these. \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Melanie and I camped out 20 minutes early so as to capture the banana split unveiling on film.  Or digital something-or-rather.  What <em>do</em> you call it these days? \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Around 2:50 the vultures descended.  It was an ungodly 111 degrees outside, and I suppose this made people want free ice cream very, very badly.  The line was at least 200 feet long, I’d say. \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>At 3 p.m. sharp, the 30 ft. banana split was laid out in segmented troughs.  I wasn’t the only dork waiting to document this super-sized split on digital something-or-rather.  I thought super-dorkman in front of me would never get out of the way to let me have my photo op!  I mean, I needed to do this for journalistic purposes.  What on earth did he need a photo of a 30 ft. phallic sundae for, and why did it take him 5 minutes to get the perfect shot??  Who knows.  Maybe <em>Food and Wine</em> sent him. \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>After this photo frenzy, the crowd was then asked to sing “Happy Birthday” to Whole Paycheck.  I am not making this up.  How silly is that?  But I guess when it’s 111 outside, you’ll cluck like a chicken if you need to for free ice cream. \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Even though we arrived at this shindig first, and even though I am family, Melanie and I technically were not in line and politely moved back 200 ft. to wait for our piece of the trough.  Now that I think of it, I should have suggested party games while we were waiting, but I was so distracted watching men and boys chow down on samples of deli meat that I was overcome by a wave of nausea and couldn’t think clearly.   \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Cheese samples?  Enticing. \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Chocolate samples?  Scrumptious. \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Free ice cream?  Irresistible.\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Hunks of Deli Meat?  ??? \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Must be a Mars/Venus thing. \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Those Whole Paycheck peeps are not only clever, but efficient, because we worked our way up to the front of the line in no time.  Our piece of the trough included vanilla bean (with specks) ice cream, bananas, and chocolate syrup.  Whipped cream, sprinkles, and a rainbow of other assorted condiments awaited us at the next table. \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was particularly excited about this because I love whipped cream almost as much as I love ice cream.  At Thanksgiving, you cannot see my pumpkin pie because it sits under a mountain of whipped cream.  Bring it on, and bring on lots of it. \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As I was daydreaming about which of the other condiments would grace my banana split, Melanie interrupted with, “This is how people get sick.  Think of all the germs.” \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I half-ignored her because a. I worked with preschool – 3<sup>rd</sup> graders for 16 years and am used to being around walking germ factories and b. there were spoons.  Seemed hygienic to me.  What was the problem? \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Until Melanie pointed out that deli meat-sampling father and son were fondling the whipped cream can which made me want to dry heave.  For all we knew, deli meat boy also picked his nose 5 minutes prior. \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This kind of stuff really happens because Marvin Zindler proved it to the good people of Houston on an Eyewitness News expose when I was a kid.  He shoveled his finger up his nose (for demonstration purposes only), marched into a Chinese restaurant, and shoved his hand in the mint dish faster than you could blink. \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>You don’t see unwrapped mints sitting around in Chinese restaurants anymore, do you?  Hmmm???  You have Marvin to thank for that! \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Anywho, no whipped cream needed this time around.  Melanie and I relished our rather plain but delicious sundae and called it a day.     \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It’s all fun and games until someone gets sick. \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-566\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172-225x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"225\" height=\"300\" /></a>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"></a> \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a> \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p> \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p> \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p> \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /> \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>','Day 5:  I Scream, You Scream, Whole Foods Screams for...','','inherit','open','open','','405-revision-25','','','2010-09-20 21:35:10','2010-09-21 04:35:10','',405,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/20/405-revision-25/',0,'revision','',0),(598,1,'2010-09-20 21:37:54','2010-09-21 04:37:54','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a></p>\r\n\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\"> </div>\r\n\r\n<p>\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_565\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"30 ft. Banana Split Leads to Rise in Lactaid Stock\"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-565\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am an ice cream fiend.  Despite my overall health nut eating habits, I cannot say “no” to ice cream.  Ever.  And I don’t do low-fat ice cream either.  Ever.  Ice cream should be eaten in all its creamy and full-fat glory. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So when I was at the Whole Foods (or “Whole Paycheck”, as my Dad calls them) hot bar for lunch and saw a flyer inviting customers to partake in a 30 ft. banana split, I knew that this was my destiny. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I’m not even much of a banana split fan.  I’ve never seen any reason to add fruit to my ice cream in an attempt to make it healthier.  Eat the damn ice cream without guilt and save your 2-4 daily servings of fruit for another time!  There is absolutely no reason to mix business (fruit) with pleasure (ice cream) when you are indulging in frozen lusciousness.    </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I could deal with the bananas for this event, however, as it was a very special Whole Paycheck 30<sup>th</sup> Birthday Party.  Get it?  Turning 30 – 30 ft. banana split – 3 p.m. show time.  Those Whole Paycheck peeps are a clever bunch. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And since I have been shopping at Whole Paycheck for the past 25 of those 30 years, I am practically family and needed to attend.  30<sup>th</sup> birthdays are special, and I would have been a thoughtless wench for missing such a momentous day in a family member’s life. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>My friend Megan looked at me funny when I showed overexcitement upon finding the flyer.  Her thoughts? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“That sounds like a whole lotta germs to me.”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Oh, well.  I am way too much in touch with my inner child to worry about the grody details.  How many times in one’s life do you have the chance to dive into a 30 ft. sundae?  And as I just explained, this was a familial obligation, and those are always tricky to get out of. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I dragged my dear, sweet friend, Melanie, along with me.  She, too, is in touch with her inner child and almost always humors me in situations such as these. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Melanie and I camped out 20 minutes early so as to capture the banana split unveiling on film.  Or digital something-or-rather.  What <em>do</em> you call it these days? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Around 2:50 the vultures descended.  It was an ungodly 111 degrees outside, and I suppose this made people want free ice cream very, very badly.  The line was at least 200 feet long, I’d say. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>At 3 p.m. sharp, the 30 ft. banana split was laid out in segmented troughs.  I wasn’t the only dork waiting to document this super-sized split on digital something-or-rather.  I thought super-dorkman in front of me would never get out of the way to let me have my photo op!  I mean, I needed to do this for journalistic purposes.  What on earth did he need a photo of a 30 ft. phallic sundae for, and why did it take him 5 minutes to get the perfect shot??  Who knows.  Maybe <em>Food and Wine</em> sent him. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>After this photo frenzy, the crowd was then asked to sing “Happy Birthday” to Whole Paycheck.  I am not making this up.  How silly is that?  But I guess when it’s 111 outside, you’ll cluck like a chicken if you need to for free ice cream. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Even though we arrived at this shindig first, and even though I am family, Melanie and I technically were not in line and politely moved back 200 ft. to wait for our piece of the trough.  Now that I think of it, I should have suggested party games while we were waiting, but I was so distracted watching men and boys chow down on samples of deli meat that I was overcome by a wave of nausea and couldn’t think clearly.   </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Cheese samples?  Enticing. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Chocolate samples?  Scrumptious. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Free ice cream?  Irresistible.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Hunks of Deli Meat?  ??? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Must be a Mars/Venus thing. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Those Whole Paycheck peeps are not only clever, but efficient, because we worked our way up to the front of the line in no time.  Our piece of the trough included vanilla bean (with specks) ice cream, bananas, and chocolate syrup.  Whipped cream, sprinkles, and a rainbow of other assorted condiments awaited us at the next table. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was particularly excited about this because I love whipped cream almost as much as I love ice cream.  At Thanksgiving, you cannot see my pumpkin pie because it sits under a mountain of whipped cream.  Bring it on, and bring on lots of it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As I was daydreaming about which of the other condiments would grace my banana split, Melanie interrupted with, “This is how people get sick.  Think of all the germs.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I half-ignored her because a. I worked with preschool – 3<sup>rd</sup> graders for 16 years and am used to being around walking germ factories and b. there were spoons.  Seemed hygienic to me.  What was the problem? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Until Melanie pointed out that deli meat-sampling father and son were fondling the whipped cream can which made me want to dry heave.  For all we knew, deli meat boy also picked his nose 5 minutes prior. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This kind of stuff really happens because Marvin Zindler proved it to the good people of Houston on an Eyewitness News expose when I was a kid.  He shoveled his finger up his nose (for demonstration purposes only), marched into a Chinese restaurant, and shoved his hand in the mint dish faster than you could blink. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>You don’t see unwrapped mints sitting around in Chinese restaurants anymore, do you?  Hmmm???  You have Marvin to thank for that! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Anywho, no whipped cream needed this time around.  Melanie and I relished our rather plain but delicious sundae and called it a day.     </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It’s all fun and games until someone gets sick. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-566\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172-225x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"225\" height=\"300\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 5:  I Scream, You Scream, Whole Foods Screams for...','','inherit','open','open','','405-revision-28','','','2010-09-20 21:37:54','2010-09-21 04:37:54','',405,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/20/405-revision-28/',0,'revision','',0),(601,1,'2010-09-20 22:45:50','2010-09-21 05:45:50','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a></p>\r\n\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\"> </div>\r\n\r\n<p>\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_565\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"30 ft. Banana Split Leads to Rise in Lactaid Stock\"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-565\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am an ice cream fiend.  Despite my overall health nut eating habits, I cannot say “no” to ice cream.  Ever.  And I don’t do low-fat ice cream either.  Ever.  Ice cream should be eaten in all its creamy and full-fat glory. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So when I was at the Whole Foods (or “Whole Paycheck”, as my Dad calls them) hot bar for lunch and saw a flyer inviting customers to partake in a 30 ft. banana split, I knew that this was my destiny. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I’m not even much of a banana split fan.  I’ve never seen any reason to add fruit to my ice cream in an attempt to make it healthier.  Eat the damn ice cream without guilt and save your 2-4 daily servings of fruit for another time!  There is absolutely no reason to mix business (fruit) with pleasure (ice cream) when you are indulging in frozen lusciousness.    </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I could deal with the bananas for this event, however, as it was a very special Whole Paycheck 30<sup>th</sup> Birthday Party.  Get it?  Turning 30 – 30 ft. banana split – 3 p.m. show time.  Those Whole Paycheck peeps are a clever bunch. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And since I have been shopping at Whole Paycheck for the past 25 of those 30 years, I am practically family and needed to attend.  30<sup>th</sup> birthdays are special, and I would have been a thoughtless wench for missing such a momentous day in a family member’s life. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>My friend Megan looked at me funny when I showed overexcitement upon finding the flyer.  Her thoughts? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“That sounds like a whole lotta germs to me.”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Oh, well.  I am way too much in touch with my inner child to worry about the grody details.  How many times in one’s life do you have the chance to dive into a 30 ft. sundae?  And as I just explained, this was a familial obligation, and those are always tricky to get out of. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I dragged my dear, sweet friend, Melanie, along with me.  She, too, is in touch with her inner child and almost always humors me in situations such as these. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Melanie and I camped out 20 minutes early so as to capture the banana split unveiling on film.  Or digital something-or-rather.  What <em>do</em> you call it these days? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Around 2:50 the vultures descended.  It was an ungodly 111 degrees outside, and I suppose this made people want free ice cream very, very badly.  The line was at least 200 feet long, I’d say. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>At 3 p.m. sharp, the 30 ft. banana split was laid out in segmented troughs.  I wasn’t the only dork waiting to document this super-sized split on digital something-or-rather.  I thought super-dorkman in front of me would never get out of the way to let me have my photo op!  I mean, I needed to do this for journalistic purposes.  What on earth did he need a photo of a 30 ft. phallic sundae for, and why did it take him 5 minutes to get the perfect shot??  Who knows.  Maybe <em>Food and Wine</em> sent him. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>After this photo frenzy, the crowd was then asked to sing “Happy Birthday” to Whole Paycheck.  I am not making this up.  How silly is that?  But I guess when it’s 111 outside, you’ll cluck like a chicken if you need to for free ice cream. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Even though we arrived at this shindig first, and even though I am family, Melanie and I technically were not in line and politely moved back 200 ft. to wait for our piece of the trough.  Now that I think of it, I should have suggested party games while we were waiting, but I was so distracted watching men and boys fingering and chowing down on samples of deli meat that I was overcome by a wave of nausea and couldn’t think clearly.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Cheese samples?  Enticing. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Chocolate samples?  Scrumptious. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Free ice cream?  Irresistible.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Hunks of Deli Meat?  ??? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Must be a Mars/Venus thing. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Those Whole Paycheck peeps are not only clever, but efficient, because we worked our way up to the front of the line in no time.  Our piece of the trough included vanilla bean (with specks) ice cream, bananas, and chocolate syrup.  Whipped cream, sprinkles, and a rainbow of other assorted condiments awaited us at the next table. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was particularly excited about this because I love whipped cream almost as much as I love ice cream.  At Thanksgiving, you cannot see my pumpkin pie because it sits under a mountain of whipped cream.  Bring it on, and bring on lots of it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As I was daydreaming about which of the other condiments would grace my banana split, Melanie interrupted with, “This is how people get sick.  Think of all the germs.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I half-ignored her because a. I worked with preschool – 3<sup>rd</sup> graders for 16 years and am used to being around walking germ factories and b. there were spoons.  Seemed hygienic to me.  What was the problem? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Until Melanie pointed out that bare-handed deli meat-sampling father and son were fondling the whipped cream can which made me want to dry heave.  For all we knew, deli meat boy also picked his nose 5 minutes prior. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This kind of stuff really happens because Marvin Zindler proved it to the good people of Houston on an Eyewitness News expose when I was a kid.  He shoveled his finger up his nose (for demonstration purposes only), marched into a Chinese restaurant, and shoved his hand in the mint dish faster than you could blink. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>You don’t see unwrapped mints sitting around in Chinese restaurants anymore, do you?  Hmmm???  You have Marvin to thank for that! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Anywho, no whipped cream needed this time around.  Melanie and I relished our rather plain but delicious sundae and called it a day.     </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It’s all fun and games until someone gets sick. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-566\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172-225x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"225\" height=\"300\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 5:  I Scream, You Scream, Whole Foods Screams for...','','inherit','open','open','','405-revision-31','','','2010-09-20 22:45:50','2010-09-21 05:45:50','',405,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/20/405-revision-31/',0,'revision','',0),(599,1,'2010-09-20 22:12:13','2010-09-21 05:12:13','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a></p>\r\n\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\"> </div>\r\n\r\n<p>\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_565\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"30 ft. Banana Split Leads to Rise in Lactaid Stock\"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-565\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am an ice cream fiend.  Despite my overall health nut eating habits, I cannot say “no” to ice cream.  Ever.  And I don’t do low-fat ice cream either.  Ever.  Ice cream should be eaten in all its creamy and full-fat glory. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So when I was at the Whole Foods (or “Whole Paycheck”, as my Dad calls them) hot bar for lunch and saw a flyer inviting customers to partake in a 30 ft. banana split, I knew that this was my destiny. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I’m not even much of a banana split fan.  I’ve never seen any reason to add fruit to my ice cream in an attempt to make it healthier.  Eat the damn ice cream without guilt and save your 2-4 daily servings of fruit for another time!  There is absolutely no reason to mix business (fruit) with pleasure (ice cream) when you are indulging in frozen lusciousness.    </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I could deal with the bananas for this event, however, as it was a very special Whole Paycheck 30<sup>th</sup> Birthday Party.  Get it?  Turning 30 – 30 ft. banana split – 3 p.m. show time.  Those Whole Paycheck peeps are a clever bunch. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And since I have been shopping at Whole Paycheck for the past 25 of those 30 years, I am practically family and needed to attend.  30<sup>th</sup> birthdays are special, and I would have been a thoughtless wench for missing such a momentous day in a family member’s life. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>My friend Megan looked at me funny when I showed overexcitement upon finding the flyer.  Her thoughts? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“That sounds like a whole lotta germs to me.”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Oh, well.  I am way too much in touch with my inner child to worry about the grody details.  How many times in one’s life do you have the chance to dive into a 30 ft. sundae?  And as I just explained, this was a familial obligation, and those are always tricky to get out of. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I dragged my dear, sweet friend, Melanie, along with me.  She, too, is in touch with her inner child and almost always humors me in situations such as these. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Melanie and I camped out 20 minutes early so as to capture the banana split unveiling on film.  Or digital something-or-rather.  What <em>do</em> you call it these days? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Around 2:50 the vultures descended.  It was an ungodly 111 degrees outside, and I suppose this made people want free ice cream very, very badly.  The line was at least 200 feet long, I’d say. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>At 3 p.m. sharp, the 30 ft. banana split was laid out in segmented troughs.  I wasn’t the only dork waiting to document this super-sized split on digital something-or-rather.  I thought super-dorkman in front of me would never get out of the way to let me have my photo op!  I mean, I needed to do this for journalistic purposes.  What on earth did he need a photo of a 30 ft. phallic sundae for, and why did it take him 5 minutes to get the perfect shot??  Who knows.  Maybe <em>Food and Wine</em> sent him. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>After this photo frenzy, the crowd was then asked to sing “Happy Birthday” to Whole Paycheck.  I am not making this up.  How silly is that?  But I guess when it’s 111 outside, you’ll cluck like a chicken if you need to for free ice cream. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Even though we arrived at this shindig first, and even though I am family, Melanie and I technically were not in line and politely moved back 200 ft. to wait for our piece of the trough.  Now that I think of it, I should have suggested party games while we were waiting, but I was so distracted watching men and boys fingering and chowing down on samples of deli meat that I was overcome by a wave of nausea and couldn’t think clearly.   Utensils, anyone? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Cheese samples?  Enticing. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Chocolate samples?  Scrumptious. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Free ice cream?  Irresistible.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Hunks of Deli Meat?  ??? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Must be a Mars/Venus thing. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Those Whole Paycheck peeps are not only clever, but efficient, because we worked our way up to the front of the line in no time.  Our piece of the trough included vanilla bean (with specks) ice cream, bananas, and chocolate syrup.  Whipped cream, sprinkles, and a rainbow of other assorted condiments awaited us at the next table. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was particularly excited about this because I love whipped cream almost as much as I love ice cream.  At Thanksgiving, you cannot see my pumpkin pie because it sits under a mountain of whipped cream.  Bring it on, and bring on lots of it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As I was daydreaming about which of the other condiments would grace my banana split, Melanie interrupted with, “This is how people get sick.  Think of all the germs.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I half-ignored her because a. I worked with preschool – 3<sup>rd</sup> graders for 16 years and am used to being around walking germ factories and b. there were spoons.  Seemed hygienic to me.  What was the problem? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Until Melanie pointed out that deli meat-sampling father and son were fondling the whipped cream can which made me want to dry heave.  For all we knew, deli meat boy also picked his nose 5 minutes prior. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This kind of stuff really happens because Marvin Zindler proved it to the good people of Houston on an Eyewitness News expose when I was a kid.  He shoveled his finger up his nose (for demonstration purposes only), marched into a Chinese restaurant, and shoved his hand in the mint dish faster than you could blink. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>You don’t see unwrapped mints sitting around in Chinese restaurants anymore, do you?  Hmmm???  You have Marvin to thank for that! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Anywho, no whipped cream needed this time around.  Melanie and I relished our rather plain but delicious sundae and called it a day.     </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It’s all fun and games until someone gets sick. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-566\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172-225x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"225\" height=\"300\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 5:  I Scream, You Scream, Whole Foods Screams for...','','inherit','open','open','','405-revision-29','','','2010-09-20 22:12:13','2010-09-21 05:12:13','',405,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/20/405-revision-29/',0,'revision','',0),(600,1,'2010-09-20 22:13:21','2010-09-21 05:13:21','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a></p>\r\n\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\"> </div>\r\n\r\n<p>\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_565\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"30 ft. Banana Split Leads to Rise in Lactaid Stock\"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-565\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am an ice cream fiend.  Despite my overall health nut eating habits, I cannot say “no” to ice cream.  Ever.  And I don’t do low-fat ice cream either.  Ever.  Ice cream should be eaten in all its creamy and full-fat glory. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So when I was at the Whole Foods (or “Whole Paycheck”, as my Dad calls them) hot bar for lunch and saw a flyer inviting customers to partake in a 30 ft. banana split, I knew that this was my destiny. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I’m not even much of a banana split fan.  I’ve never seen any reason to add fruit to my ice cream in an attempt to make it healthier.  Eat the damn ice cream without guilt and save your 2-4 daily servings of fruit for another time!  There is absolutely no reason to mix business (fruit) with pleasure (ice cream) when you are indulging in frozen lusciousness.    </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I could deal with the bananas for this event, however, as it was a very special Whole Paycheck 30<sup>th</sup> Birthday Party.  Get it?  Turning 30 – 30 ft. banana split – 3 p.m. show time.  Those Whole Paycheck peeps are a clever bunch. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And since I have been shopping at Whole Paycheck for the past 25 of those 30 years, I am practically family and needed to attend.  30<sup>th</sup> birthdays are special, and I would have been a thoughtless wench for missing such a momentous day in a family member’s life. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>My friend Megan looked at me funny when I showed overexcitement upon finding the flyer.  Her thoughts? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“That sounds like a whole lotta germs to me.”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Oh, well.  I am way too much in touch with my inner child to worry about the grody details.  How many times in one’s life do you have the chance to dive into a 30 ft. sundae?  And as I just explained, this was a familial obligation, and those are always tricky to get out of. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I dragged my dear, sweet friend, Melanie, along with me.  She, too, is in touch with her inner child and almost always humors me in situations such as these. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Melanie and I camped out 20 minutes early so as to capture the banana split unveiling on film.  Or digital something-or-rather.  What <em>do</em> you call it these days? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Around 2:50 the vultures descended.  It was an ungodly 111 degrees outside, and I suppose this made people want free ice cream very, very badly.  The line was at least 200 feet long, I’d say. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>At 3 p.m. sharp, the 30 ft. banana split was laid out in segmented troughs.  I wasn’t the only dork waiting to document this super-sized split on digital something-or-rather.  I thought super-dorkman in front of me would never get out of the way to let me have my photo op!  I mean, I needed to do this for journalistic purposes.  What on earth did he need a photo of a 30 ft. phallic sundae for, and why did it take him 5 minutes to get the perfect shot??  Who knows.  Maybe <em>Food and Wine</em> sent him. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>After this photo frenzy, the crowd was then asked to sing “Happy Birthday” to Whole Paycheck.  I am not making this up.  How silly is that?  But I guess when it’s 111 outside, you’ll cluck like a chicken if you need to for free ice cream. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Even though we arrived at this shindig first, and even though I am family, Melanie and I technically were not in line and politely moved back 200 ft. to wait for our piece of the trough.  Now that I think of it, I should have suggested party games while we were waiting, but I was so distracted watching men and boys fingering and chowing down on samples of deli meat that I was overcome by a wave of nausea and couldn’t think clearly.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Cheese samples?  Enticing. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Chocolate samples?  Scrumptious. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Free ice cream?  Irresistible.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Hunks of Deli Meat?  ??? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Must be a Mars/Venus thing. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Those Whole Paycheck peeps are not only clever, but efficient, because we worked our way up to the front of the line in no time.  Our piece of the trough included vanilla bean (with specks) ice cream, bananas, and chocolate syrup.  Whipped cream, sprinkles, and a rainbow of other assorted condiments awaited us at the next table. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was particularly excited about this because I love whipped cream almost as much as I love ice cream.  At Thanksgiving, you cannot see my pumpkin pie because it sits under a mountain of whipped cream.  Bring it on, and bring on lots of it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As I was daydreaming about which of the other condiments would grace my banana split, Melanie interrupted with, “This is how people get sick.  Think of all the germs.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I half-ignored her because a. I worked with preschool – 3<sup>rd</sup> graders for 16 years and am used to being around walking germ factories and b. there were spoons.  Seemed hygienic to me.  What was the problem? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Until Melanie pointed out that deli meat-sampling father and son were fondling the whipped cream can which made me want to dry heave.  For all we knew, deli meat boy also picked his nose 5 minutes prior. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This kind of stuff really happens because Marvin Zindler proved it to the good people of Houston on an Eyewitness News expose when I was a kid.  He shoveled his finger up his nose (for demonstration purposes only), marched into a Chinese restaurant, and shoved his hand in the mint dish faster than you could blink. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>You don’t see unwrapped mints sitting around in Chinese restaurants anymore, do you?  Hmmm???  You have Marvin to thank for that! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Anywho, no whipped cream needed this time around.  Melanie and I relished our rather plain but delicious sundae and called it a day.     </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It’s all fun and games until someone gets sick. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-566\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172-225x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"225\" height=\"300\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 5:  I Scream, You Scream, Whole Foods Screams for...','','inherit','open','open','','405-revision-30','','','2010-09-20 22:13:21','2010-09-21 05:13:21','',405,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/20/405-revision-30/',0,'revision','',0),(602,1,'2010-09-20 22:46:43','2010-09-21 05:46:43','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a></p>\r\n\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\"> </div>\r\n\r\n<p>\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_565\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"30 ft. Banana Split Leads to Rise in Lactaid Stock\"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-565\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am an ice cream fiend.  Despite my overall health nut eating habits, I cannot say “no” to ice cream.  Ever.  And I don’t do low-fat ice cream either.  Ever.  Ice cream should be eaten in all its creamy and full-fat glory. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So when I was at the Whole Foods (or “Whole Paycheck”, as my Dad calls them) hot bar for lunch and saw a flyer inviting customers to partake in a 30 ft. banana split, I knew that this was my destiny. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I’m not even much of a banana split fan.  I’ve never seen any reason to add fruit to my ice cream in an attempt to make it healthier.  Eat the damn ice cream without guilt and save your 2-4 daily servings of fruit for another time!  There is absolutely no reason to mix business (fruit) with pleasure (ice cream) when you are indulging in frozen lusciousness.    </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I could deal with the bananas for this event, however, as it was a very special Whole Paycheck 30<sup>th</sup> Birthday Party.  Get it?  Turning 30 – 30 ft. banana split – 3 p.m. show time.  Those Whole Paycheck peeps are a clever bunch. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And since I have been shopping at Whole Paycheck for the past 25 of those 30 years, I am practically family and needed to attend.  30<sup>th</sup> birthdays are special, and I would have been a thoughtless wench for missing such a momentous day in a family member’s life. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>My friend Megan looked at me funny when I showed overexcitement upon finding the flyer.  Her thoughts? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“That sounds like a whole lotta germs to me.”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Oh, well.  I am way too much in touch with my inner child to worry about the grody details.  How many times in one’s life do you have the chance to dive into a 30 ft. sundae?  And as I just explained, this was a familial obligation, and those are always tricky to get out of. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I dragged my dear, sweet friend, Melanie, along with me.  She, too, is in touch with her inner child and almost always humors me in situations such as these. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Melanie and I camped out 20 minutes early so as to capture the banana split unveiling on film.  Or digital something-or-rather.  What <em>do</em> you call it these days? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Around 2:50 the vultures descended.  It was an ungodly 111 degrees outside, and I suppose this made people want free ice cream very, very badly.  The line was at least 200 feet long, I’d say. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>At 3 p.m. sharp, the 30 ft. banana split was laid out in segmented troughs.  I wasn’t the only dork waiting to document this super-sized split on digital something-or-rather.  I thought super-dorkman in front of me would never get out of the way to let me have my photo op!  I mean, I needed to do this for journalistic purposes.  What on earth did he need a photo of a 30 ft. phallic sundae for, and why did it take him 5 minutes to get the perfect shot??  Who knows.  Maybe <em>Food and Wine</em> sent him. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>After this photo frenzy, the crowd was then asked to sing “Happy Birthday” to Whole Paycheck.  I am not making this up.  How silly is that?  But I guess when it’s 111 outside, you’ll cluck like a chicken if you need to for free ice cream. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Even though we arrived at this shindig first, and even though I am family, Melanie and I technically were not in line and politely moved back 200 ft. to wait for our piece of the trough.  Now that I think of it, I should have suggested party games while we were waiting, but I was so distracted watching men and boys fingering and chowing down on samples of deli meat that I was overcome by a wave of nausea and couldn’t think clearly.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Cheese samples?  Enticing. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Chocolate samples?  Scrumptious. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Free ice cream?  Irresistible.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Hunks of Deli Meat?  ??? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Must be a Mars/Venus thing. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Those Whole Paycheck peeps are not only clever, but efficient, because we worked our way up to the front of the line in no time.  Our piece of the trough included vanilla bean (with specks) ice cream, bananas, and chocolate syrup.  Whipped cream, sprinkles, and a rainbow of other assorted condiments awaited us at the next table. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was particularly excited about this because I love whipped cream almost as much as I love ice cream.  At Thanksgiving, you cannot see my pumpkin pie because it sits under a mountain of whipped cream.  Bring it on, and bring on lots of it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As I was daydreaming about which of the other condiments would grace my banana split, Melanie interrupted with, “This is how people get sick.  Think of all the germs.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I half-ignored her because a. I worked with preschool – 3<sup>rd</sup> graders for 16 years and am used to being around walking germ factories and b. there were spoons.  Seemed hygienic to me.  What was the problem? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Until Melanie pointed out that bare-handed deli meat-sampling father and son were now fondling the whipped cream can which made me want to dry heave.  For all we knew, deli meat boy also picked his nose 5 minutes prior. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This kind of stuff really happens because Marvin Zindler proved it to the good people of Houston on an Eyewitness News expose when I was a kid.  He shoveled his finger up his nose (for demonstration purposes only), marched into a Chinese restaurant, and shoved his hand in the mint dish faster than you could blink. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>You don’t see unwrapped mints sitting around in Chinese restaurants anymore, do you?  Hmmm???  You have Marvin to thank for that! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Anywho, no whipped cream needed this time around.  Melanie and I relished our rather plain but delicious sundae and called it a day.     </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It’s all fun and games until someone gets sick. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-566\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172-225x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"225\" height=\"300\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190174.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9190172.jpg\"></a> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 5:  I Scream, You Scream, Whole Foods Screams for...','','inherit','open','open','','405-revision-32','','','2010-09-20 22:46:43','2010-09-21 05:46:43','',405,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/20/405-revision-32/',0,'revision','',0),(603,1,'2010-09-22 01:11:59','2010-09-22 08:11:59','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/8699072@N05/533028101/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-604\" title=\"womb-icecave\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/womb-icecave-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>I am a massage ho. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It\'s true.  I indulge in massages regularly.   I justify their frequency with my iffy neck and back, but secretly I am soooooo glad to have an excuse.  Not that anyone needs an excuse.  Massages are good for you health.  Period. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>What I had never experienced before was  <a href=\"http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Craniosacral_therapy\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>craniosacral therapy</strong>.</a>  My massage therapist, Melody, recently swooped off to Sedona for a training.  Yes, Sedona = \"out there\",  and craniosacral therapy is considered a little \"woo-woo\". </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And since I\'m a little \"woo-woo\", Melody considered me her forerunner guinea pig.  I was honored, in an odd sort of way. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I will not go into great detail here because I want to proceed with my post-massage state and chill out, but let me just say that this is pretty powerful energy work.  For most of the therapy, I felt like I was in a transcendental meditation, and by the end, I felt like I had crawled back into the womb.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Craniosacral therapy is definitely one of those things that make you go Om. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>If you are wondering what womb-like feels-like, <a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/talk-to-me/\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>talk to me</strong> </a>and I will put you in touch with Melody. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Now, if you\'ll excuse me, I need to go back to my special Om place. </p>','Day 6:  Crawling Back into the Womb ','','publish','open','open','','day-6-crawling-back-into-the-womb','','','2010-09-21 21:06:34','2010-09-22 04:06:34','',0,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/?p=603',0,'post','',5),(604,1,'2010-09-21 18:07:04','2010-09-22 01:07:04','','womb-icecave','','inherit','open','open','','womb-icecave','','','2010-09-21 18:07:04','2010-09-22 01:07:04','',603,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/womb-icecave.jpg',0,'attachment','image/jpeg',0),(605,1,'2010-09-21 17:45:15','2010-09-22 00:45:15','<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Sooooo relaxing....excuse me while I go zzzzzzz</p>','Day 6:  Climbing Back into the Womb ','','inherit','open','open','','603-revision','','','2010-09-21 17:45:15','2010-09-22 00:45:15','',603,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/21/603-revision/',0,'revision','',0),(606,1,'2010-09-21 18:08:16','2010-09-22 01:08:16','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/womb-icecave.jpg\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-604\" title=\"womb-icecave\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/womb-icecave-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a> </p>\n\n<p>Sooooo relaxing....excuse me while I go zzzzzzz</p>','Day 6:  Climbing Back into the Womb ','','inherit','open','open','','603-revision-2','','','2010-09-21 18:08:16','2010-09-22 01:08:16','',603,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/21/603-revision-2/',0,'revision','',0),(607,1,'2010-09-21 20:43:48','2010-09-22 03:43:48','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/8699072@N05/533028101/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-604\" title=\"womb-icecave\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/womb-icecave-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a> I am a massage ho. </p>\n\n<p>It\'s true.  I indulge in massages regularly.   I justify their frequency with my iffy neck and back, but secretly I am soooooo glad to have an excuse.  Not that anyone needs an excuse.  Massages are good for you health.  Period. </p>\n\n<p>What I had never experienced before was  <a href=\"http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Craniosacral_therapy\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>craniosacral therapy</strong>.</a>  My massage therapist, Melody, had recently swooped off to Sedona for a training.  Yes, Sedona = \"out there\",  and craniosacral therapy is considered a little \"woo-woo\". </p>\n\n<p>And since I\'m a little \"woo-woo\", Melody considered me her forerunner guinea pig.  I was honored, in an odd sort of way. </p>\n\n<p>I will not go into great detail here because I want to proceed with my post-massage state and chill out, but let me just say that this is pretty palpable energy work.  For most of the therapy, I felt like I was in a transcendental meditation, and at the end, I felt like I had crawled back into the womb.  </p>\n\n<p>Craniosacral therapy is definitely one of those things that make you go Om. </p>\n\n<p>If you are wondering what womb-like feels-like, <a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/talk-to-me/\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>talk to me</strong> </a>and I will put you in touch with Melody. </p>\n\n<p>Now, if you\'ll excuse me, I need to go back to my special Om place. </p>','Day 6:  Climbing Back into the Womb ','','inherit','open','open','','603-revision-3','','','2010-09-21 20:43:48','2010-09-22 03:43:48','',603,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/21/603-revision-3/',0,'revision','',0),(608,1,'2010-09-21 20:43:58','2010-09-22 03:43:58','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/8699072@N05/533028101/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-604\" title=\"womb-icecave\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/womb-icecave-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a> I am a massage ho. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>It\'s true.  I indulge in massages regularly.   I justify their frequency with my iffy neck and back, but secretly I am soooooo glad to have an excuse.  Not that anyone needs an excuse.  Massages are good for you health.  Period. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>What I had never experienced before was  <a href=\"http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Craniosacral_therapy\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>craniosacral therapy</strong>.</a>  My massage therapist, Melody, had recently swooped off to Sedona for a training.  Yes, Sedona = \"out there\",  and craniosacral therapy is considered a little \"woo-woo\". </p>\r\n\r\n<p>And since I\'m a little \"woo-woo\", Melody considered me her forerunner guinea pig.  I was honored, in an odd sort of way. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>I will not go into great detail here because I want to proceed with my post-massage state and chill out, but let me just say that this is pretty palpable energy work.  For most of the therapy, I felt like I was in a transcendental meditation, and at the end, I felt like I had crawled back into the womb.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p>Craniosacral therapy is definitely one of those things that make you go Om. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>If you are wondering what womb-like feels-like, <a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/talk-to-me/\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>talk to me</strong> </a>and I will put you in touch with Melody. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>Now, if you\'ll excuse me, I need to go back to my special Om place. </p>','Day 6:  Climbing Back into the Womb ','','inherit','open','open','','603-revision-4','','','2010-09-21 20:43:58','2010-09-22 03:43:58','',603,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/21/603-revision-4/',0,'revision','',0),(609,1,'2010-09-21 20:45:52','2010-09-22 03:45:52','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/8699072@N05/533028101/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-604\" title=\"womb-icecave\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/womb-icecave-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>I am a massage ho. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>It\'s true.  I indulge in massages regularly.   I justify their frequency with my iffy neck and back, but secretly I am soooooo glad to have an excuse.  Not that anyone needs an excuse.  Massages are good for you health.  Period. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>What I had never experienced before was  <a href=\"http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Craniosacral_therapy\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>craniosacral therapy</strong>.</a>  My massage therapist, Melody, had recently swooped off to Sedona for a training.  Yes, Sedona = \"out there\",  and craniosacral therapy is considered a little \"woo-woo\". </p>\r\n\r\n<p>And since I\'m a little \"woo-woo\", Melody considered me her forerunner guinea pig.  I was honored, in an odd sort of way. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>I will not go into great detail here because I want to proceed with my post-massage state and chill out, but let me just say that this is pretty palpable energy work.  For most of the therapy, I felt like I was in a transcendental meditation, and at the end, I felt like I had crawled back into the womb.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p>Craniosacral therapy is definitely one of those things that make you go Om. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>If you are wondering what womb-like feels-like, <a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/talk-to-me/\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>talk to me</strong> </a>and I will put you in touch with Melody. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>Now, if you\'ll excuse me, I need to go back to my special Om place. </p>','Day 6:  Climbing Back into the Womb ','','inherit','open','open','','603-revision-5','','','2010-09-21 20:45:52','2010-09-22 03:45:52','',603,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/21/603-revision-5/',0,'revision','',0),(610,1,'2010-09-21 20:46:36','2010-09-22 03:46:36','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/8699072@N05/533028101/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-604\" title=\"womb-icecave\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/womb-icecave-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>I am a massage ho. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It\'s true.  I indulge in massages regularly.   I justify their frequency with my iffy neck and back, but secretly I am soooooo glad to have an excuse.  Not that anyone needs an excuse.  Massages are good for you health.  Period. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>What I had never experienced before was  <a href=\"http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Craniosacral_therapy\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>craniosacral therapy</strong>.</a>  My massage therapist, Melody, had recently swooped off to Sedona for a training.  Yes, Sedona = \"out there\",  and craniosacral therapy is considered a little \"woo-woo\". </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And since I\'m a little \"woo-woo\", Melody considered me her forerunner guinea pig.  I was honored, in an odd sort of way. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I will not go into great detail here because I want to proceed with my post-massage state and chill out, but let me just say that this is pretty palpable energy work.  For most of the therapy, I felt like I was in a transcendental meditation, and at the end, I felt like I had crawled back into the womb.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Craniosacral therapy is definitely one of those things that make you go Om. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>If you are wondering what womb-like feels-like, <a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/talk-to-me/\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>talk to me</strong> </a>and I will put you in touch with Melody. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Now, if you\'ll excuse me, I need to go back to my special Om place. </p>','Day 6:  Crawling Back into the Womb ','','inherit','open','open','','603-revision-6','','','2010-09-21 20:46:36','2010-09-22 03:46:36','',603,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/21/603-revision-6/',0,'revision','',0),(611,1,'2010-09-21 20:49:56','2010-09-22 03:49:56','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/8699072@N05/533028101/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-604\" title=\"womb-icecave\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/womb-icecave-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>I am a massage ho. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It\'s true.  I indulge in massages regularly.   I justify their frequency with my iffy neck and back, but secretly I am soooooo glad to have an excuse.  Not that anyone needs an excuse.  Massages are good for you health.  Period. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>What I had never experienced before was  <a href=\"http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Craniosacral_therapy\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>craniosacral therapy</strong>.</a>  My massage therapist, Melody, had recently swooped off to Sedona for a training.  Yes, Sedona = \"out there\",  and craniosacral therapy is considered a little \"woo-woo\". </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And since I\'m a little \"woo-woo\", Melody considered me her forerunner guinea pig.  I was honored, in an odd sort of way. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I will not go into great detail here because I want to proceed with my post-massage state and chill out, but let me just say that this is pretty poweful energy work.  For most of the therapy, I felt like I was in a transcendental meditation, and at the end, I felt like I had crawled back into the womb.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Craniosacral therapy is definitely one of those things that make you go Om. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>If you are wondering what womb-like feels-like, <a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/talk-to-me/\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>talk to me</strong> </a>and I will put you in touch with Melody. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Now, if you\'ll excuse me, I need to go back to my special Om place. </p>','Day 6:  Crawling Back into the Womb ','','inherit','open','open','','603-revision-7','','','2010-09-21 20:49:56','2010-09-22 03:49:56','',603,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/21/603-revision-7/',0,'revision','',0),(612,1,'2010-09-21 20:50:30','2010-09-22 03:50:30','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/8699072@N05/533028101/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-604\" title=\"womb-icecave\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/womb-icecave-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>I am a massage ho. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It\'s true.  I indulge in massages regularly.   I justify their frequency with my iffy neck and back, but secretly I am soooooo glad to have an excuse.  Not that anyone needs an excuse.  Massages are good for you health.  Period. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>What I had never experienced before was  <a href=\"http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Craniosacral_therapy\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>craniosacral therapy</strong>.</a>  My massage therapist, Melody, had recently swooped off to Sedona for a training.  Yes, Sedona = \"out there\",  and craniosacral therapy is considered a little \"woo-woo\". </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And since I\'m a little \"woo-woo\", Melody considered me her forerunner guinea pig.  I was honored, in an odd sort of way. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I will not go into great detail here because I want to proceed with my post-massage state and chill out, but let me just say that this is pretty powerful energy work.  For most of the therapy, I felt like I was in a transcendental meditation, and at the end, I felt like I had crawled back into the womb.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Craniosacral therapy is definitely one of those things that make you go Om. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>If you are wondering what womb-like feels-like, <a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/talk-to-me/\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>talk to me</strong> </a>and I will put you in touch with Melody. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Now, if you\'ll excuse me, I need to go back to my special Om place. </p>','Day 6:  Crawling Back into the Womb ','','inherit','open','open','','603-revision-8','','','2010-09-21 20:50:30','2010-09-22 03:50:30','',603,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/21/603-revision-8/',0,'revision','',0),(613,1,'2010-09-21 21:05:38','2010-09-22 04:05:38','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/8699072@N05/533028101/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-604\" title=\"womb-icecave\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/womb-icecave-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>I am a massage ho. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It\'s true.  I indulge in massages regularly.   I justify their frequency with my iffy neck and back, but secretly I am soooooo glad to have an excuse.  Not that anyone needs an excuse.  Massages are good for you health.  Period. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>What I had never experienced before was  <a href=\"http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Craniosacral_therapy\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>craniosacral therapy</strong>.</a>  My massage therapist, Melody, had recently swooped off to Sedona for a training.  Yes, Sedona = \"out there\",  and craniosacral therapy is considered a little \"woo-woo\". </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And since I\'m a little \"woo-woo\", Melody considered me her forerunner guinea pig.  I was honored, in an odd sort of way. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I will not go into great detail here because I want to proceed with my post-massage state and chill out, but let me just say that this is pretty powerful energy work.  For most of the therapy, I felt like I was in a transcendental meditation, and by the end, I felt like I had crawled back into the womb.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Craniosacral therapy is definitely one of those things that make you go Om. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>If you are wondering what womb-like feels-like, <a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/talk-to-me/\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>talk to me</strong> </a>and I will put you in touch with Melody. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Now, if you\'ll excuse me, I need to go back to my special Om place. </p>','Day 6:  Crawling Back into the Womb ','','inherit','open','open','','603-revision-9','','','2010-09-21 21:05:38','2010-09-22 04:05:38','',603,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/21/603-revision-9/',0,'revision','',0),(614,1,'2010-09-21 21:07:45','2010-09-22 04:07:45','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/8699072@N05/533028101/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-604\" title=\"womb-icecave\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/womb-icecave-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>I am a massage ho. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>It\'s true.  I indulge in massages regularly.   I justify their frequency with my iffy neck and back, but secretly I am soooooo glad to have an excuse.  Not that anyone needs an excuse.  Massages are good for you health.  Period. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>What I had never experienced before was  <a href=\"http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Craniosacral_therapy\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>craniosacral therapy</strong>.</a>  My massage therapist, Melody, recently swooped off to Sedona for a training.  Yes, Sedona = \"out there\",  and craniosacral therapy is considered a little \"woo-woo\". </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And since I\'m a little \"woo-woo\", Melody considered me her forerunner guinea pig.  I was honored, in an odd sort of way. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I will not go into great detail here because I want to proceed with my post-massage state and chill out, but let me just say that this is pretty powerful energy work.  For most of the therapy, I felt like I was in a transcendental meditation, and by the end, I felt like I had crawled back into the womb.  </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Craniosacral therapy is definitely one of those things that make you go Om. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>If you are wondering what womb-like feels-like, <a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/talk-to-me/\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>talk to me</strong> </a>and I will put you in touch with Melody. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Now, if you\'ll excuse me, I need to go back to my special Om place. </p>','Day 6:  Crawling Back into the Womb ','','inherit','open','open','','603-autosave','','','2010-09-21 21:07:45','2010-09-22 04:07:45','',603,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/21/603-autosave/',0,'revision','',0),(617,1,'2010-09-22 14:40:21','2010-09-22 21:40:21','','Day 7:  Lunchtime Luxury ','','inherit','open','open','','615-revision','','','2010-09-22 14:40:21','2010-09-22 21:40:21','',615,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/22/615-revision/',0,'revision','',0),(618,1,'2010-09-22 14:41:57','2010-09-22 21:41:57','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/pedi.jpg\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-616\" title=\"pedi\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/pedi-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a></p>','Day 7:  Lunchtime Luxury ','','inherit','open','open','','615-revision-2','','','2010-09-22 14:41:57','2010-09-22 21:41:57','',615,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/22/615-revision-2/',0,'revision','',0),(619,1,'2010-09-22 14:45:41','2010-09-22 21:45:41','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/pedi.jpg\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-616\" title=\"pedi\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/pedi-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>A couple of months ago I ran into a co-worker who was returning to the office in those flimsy flip-flops</p>','Day 7:  Lunchtime Luxury ','','inherit','open','open','','615-revision-3','','','2010-09-22 14:45:41','2010-09-22 21:45:41','',615,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/22/615-revision-3/',0,'revision','',0),(620,1,'2010-09-22 14:45:57','2010-09-22 21:45:57','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/pedi.jpg\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-616\" title=\"pedi\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/pedi-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>A couple of months ago I ran into a co-worker who was returning to the office in those flimsy flip-flops</p>','Day 7:  Lunchtime Luxury ','','inherit','open','open','','615-revision-4','','','2010-09-22 14:45:57','2010-09-22 21:45:57','',615,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/22/615-revision-4/',0,'revision','',0),(621,1,'2010-09-22 15:51:47','2010-09-22 22:51:47','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/hadesigns/4753128004/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-616\" title=\"lunchtimepedi\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/pedi-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>A couple of months ago I ran into a co-worker who was returning to the office in those flimsy flip-flops</p>','Day 7:  Lunchtime Luxury ','','inherit','open','open','','615-revision-5','','','2010-09-22 15:51:47','2010-09-22 22:51:47','',615,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/22/615-revision-5/',0,'revision','',0),(826,1,'2010-10-01 01:11:06','2010-10-01 08:11:06','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/kubina/50367241/sizes/m/in/photostream/\" target=\"_blank\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-856\" title=\"Little Worlds (Bubbles)\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/10/Little-Worlds-Bubbles-300x199.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"199\" /></a>When was the last time you blew bubbles?  If you have small kids, then probably fairly recently.  If not, then it\'s time. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I give you permission to head on over to your local Walgreens to spend a whopping 79 cents on Super Miracle Bubbles!</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I saved my Bubble Blowing block of time for the end of the day.  I pictured myself escaping to the back patio to relax and blow my troubles away. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As I wrapped up my daily activities and responsibilities, I started to <em>crave </em>my upcoming dance with nostalgia.  When I was talking to my friend, Lisa, on the phone while unloading the dishwasher (I am a notorious phone multi-tasker), I joked that I felt the way smokers must feel.  I couldn\'t wait to take a load off on that patio and <em>unwind</em>.  I needed a bubble fix, and I needed it bad. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And let me tell you, my friends, if you are in need of the smallest of miracle cures, then Super Miracle Bubbles to the rescue!  I spent most of that day weeping for my very sick grandfather, but each bubble that floated away seemed to carry a tiny bit of sadness with it.  It\'s practically impossible to be anything but fully present and in the moment while breathing deeply and watching magic unfold before your eyes. </p>','Day 15:  Flashback Friday:  Blowing Bubbles','','publish','open','open','','day15-flashback-friday-blowing-bubbles','','','2010-09-30 20:25:42','2010-10-01 03:25:42','',0,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/?p=826',0,'post','',4),(624,1,'2010-09-25 12:53:33','2010-09-25 19:53:33','<p><a href=\"http://www.vosgeschocolate.com/product/organic_enchanted_mushroom_candy_bar/organic_candy_bars\" target=\"_blank\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-716 alignleft\" title=\"Life is short.  Buy quality chocolate.  \" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/shroom1-300x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"300\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am not a fungus fan.  I enjoy a well-disguised shiitake or crimini mushroom in a flavorful Asian dish, but other than that, no thanks. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Button mushrooms in a salad?  Bleck.  I just don’t get it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>When I was at Whole Paycheck for the <strong><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/21/day-5-i-scream-you-scream-whole-foods-screams-for/\" target=\"_blank\">Banana Split Caper</a></strong> the other day, I wandered off to the chocolate showcase.  If you’ve ever been to Whole Paycheck, you know that I’m not exaggerating when I use the word “showcase”.  Apparently, Whole Paycheck shoppers are chocoholics like the rest of the nation.  It’s just healthier chocolate, that’s all. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>While perusing the vast and exotic options, I came upon the most exotic of them all:  Enchanted Mushroom.  Organic, no less! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<blockquote><p><strong><span style=\"color: #993300;\">“Superfoods unite! Cacao and mushroom, two of the world’s most healthy and desired foods merge into one enchanting bite!”</span></strong></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong><span style=\"color: #993300;\">                                                                                   -- Vosges Haut-Chocolat</span></strong></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p></blockquote>\r\n\r\n<p>It’s about time this Late Bloomer chick tripped on some shrooms!  I forked over the $7.99 to Whole Paycheck for the promise of a choco-pscyhedelic experience.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I didn’t want to fly on my magic carpet ride alone, so I forced my friends to come with me.  My teammates from work, to be exact.  We’re like one, big, dysfunctional family, so they were a prime and captive audience.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I hauled out the Enchanted Mushroom bar at our homecoming lunch for former teammate, Christy Jo.  Christy Jo recently moved up in the world, but misses us like nobody’s business.  (Her real name is Christy, and her middle name is Elaine, but you know me and nicknames.)  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I began reading the flowery and trippy descriptions on the back of the packaging.  Kudos to the copywriter who works for Vosges.  If it’s a “he”, and he’s single, I think we might fall in love. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>My teammates completely ignored my staged reading except for Christy Jo, who always finds me entertaining.  Since I lost my audience, I ditched the monologue and dug into the chocolate. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Everyone looked skeptical.  Mushrooms in chocolate?  You’ve got to be kidding. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I explained that there were also walnuts and 66% cacao to mask the fungus.  They were going to eat it, and they were going to like it.  If they knew what’s good for them.  And a superfood unity is indeed good for them. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>They obeyed and partook.  A wave of delighted surprise rolled through the group.  Pupils dilated and eyes glazed over. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Christy Jo was the only one who actually hallucinated.  Everyone else was very chill, but Christy Jo shrieked wildly and unintelligibly about a frumpy woman etched into the chocolate. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/choco-pic.jpg\"><img title=\"choco bag lady\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/choco-pic-260x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"260\" height=\"300\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And then Christy Jo muttered something about Etched Chocolate Woman being a Vegas bag lady in dire need of a push-up bra and Spanx.  I corrected her – the bag is labeled with “Vosges” which is the brand of this heavenly chocolate. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Christy Jo’s little “journey” was thankfully short-lived.  She might enjoy the luxury of telecommuting her days away, but we needed to hightail it back to the office. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I channeled my inner Padma from <a href=\"http://www.bravotv.com/top-chef\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>Top Chef</strong></a> and asked our panel what they thought of the Enchanted Shroom Bar.  Everyone nodded their heads, smiled, and uttered profound critiques such as, “It’s good!” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>O.k.  So they’re not exactly as eloquent as Tom, Gail, or Anthony Bourdain, but the team unanimously agreed that our culinary carpet ride was groovy, man.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Life is short.  Buy quality chocolate.  <a href=\"http://www.vosgeschocolate.com\"><strong>www.vosgeschocolate.com</strong></a><strong>.</strong> <br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 9:  Trippin\' on Enchanted Shrooms','','publish','open','open','','day-9-trippin-on-enchanted-shrooms','','\nhttp://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/21/day-5-i-scream-you-scream-whole-foods-screams-for/','2010-09-25 13:08:23','2010-09-25 20:08:23','',0,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/?p=624',0,'post','',4),(625,1,'2010-09-26 01:11:28','2010-09-26 08:11:28','<p><a href=\"http://www.balletaz.org/index.taf?mnid=community&amp;smid=1124368127\" target=\"_blank\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-734\" title=\"Mozart-Twelve Variations on Ah, vous dirai-je Maman K265\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/Please-support-your-local-ballet-300x242.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"242\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Remember the movie <em>The Secret</em>?  Think about something and it miraculously manifests in your life?  An unfortunate example highlighted in the film is a seedy looking guy who dreams about a mansion and poof!  The next thing you know he\'s living large. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I don\'t conjure up mansions in my life.  Maybe because I don\'t think about them.  I\'m a cozy cottage kind of girl.  But I apparently do have magic powers when it comes to Ballet Under the Stars because...</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Last Monday I was driving home from work and passed a beautiful park close to home.  I daydreamed about a Ballet Under the Stars event that was performed there a few years ago.  I wondered if and when it would return and then...</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I\'m flipping though a local Fall Arts Preview magazine during my lunchtime pedi the other day and voila!  Ballet Under the Stars performance scheduled for this weekend!  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Holy Secret Powers, Batman! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Figuring out which friends will accompany you to the ballet is always a bit tricky.  I decided to invite my friend Sarah who was a Dance minor in college.  We also used to teach together, and as a fellow lover of ballet, she truly understood why I would tear up for the 1000th time while watching <a href=\"http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wb4Ps7vqgU0&amp;feature=related\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>Baryshnikov &amp; Kirkland\'s Pas de Deux in <em>The Nutcracker</em></strong></a><strong>.</strong>   I used to show the entire ballet to my students every December.  No <em>Barbie Nutcracker</em> in my classroom.  It was the real deal.  And guess what?  The children LOVED it!  Hurrah to keeping it real and not dumbing it down for kids!  But I digress...</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Ballet Under the Stars performs at several different venues each fall.  The one that Sarah and I attended was on the great lawn at Tempe Center for the Arts, a fantastic performing and visual arts venue.  As I pulled up, I could hardly believe it.  You would have thought that John Mayer was staging a free concert by the amount of TRAFFIC.  For the ballet!!!!  Hurrah again!  It\'s impossible to get cranky in a traffic jam when you see this many people coming out to support the arts. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>The great lawn swarmed with people.  Of course, this was a free event, but hey -- if a fraction of these people take their families to the ballet this season, Ballet Arizona\'s mission is accomplished. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>The evening was perfect - from a Harvest Moon rising over the stage; to the brilliant dancing; to the company of a dear, sweet friend and her precious 4 year-old goddaughter pirouetting around; to an adorable shih tzu waltzing up to our blanket and hiking his leg over Sarah\'s oversized purse. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So indicative of life, isn\'t it?  Everything is absolutely lovely until someone pees on your parade.  Luckily, Sarah is one of my most easygoing friends and doesn\'t sweat the small, shih tzu-type stuff. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Cities are now publishing their Fall Arts Previews.  Many events are FREE.  Please consider getting out there for a memorable evening while supporting your local arts community!   </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 10:  Everything is Beautiful at the Ballet','','publish','open','open','','day-10-everything-is-beautiful-at-the-ballet','','','2010-09-25 16:24:48','2010-09-25 23:24:48','',0,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/?p=625',0,'post','',1),(626,1,'2010-09-22 16:09:15','0000-00-00 00:00:00','<p>We never had a fight until....eliza doolittle/henry higgins, christine/phantom, etc. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>Svengalis can be so touchy. </p>','Day ? Svennykins/Rock star night','','draft','open','open','','','','','2010-09-22 16:09:15','2010-09-22 23:09:15','',0,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/?p=626',0,'post','',0),(627,1,'2010-09-22 16:09:04','2010-09-22 23:09:04','<p>We never had a fight until....eliza doolittle/henry higgins, christine/phantom, etc. </p>\n\n<p>Svengalis can be so touchy. </p>','Day ? Svennykins/Rock star night','','inherit','open','open','','626-revision','','','2010-09-22 16:09:04','2010-09-22 23:09:04','',626,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/22/626-revision/',0,'revision','',0),(629,1,'2010-09-22 15:51:55','2010-09-22 22:51:55','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/hadesigns/4753128004/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-616\" title=\"lunchtimepedi\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/pedi-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>A couple of months ago I ran into a co-worker who was returning to the office in those flimsy flip-flops</p>','Day 7:  Lunchtime Luxury ','','inherit','open','open','','615-revision-6','','','2010-09-22 15:51:55','2010-09-22 22:51:55','',615,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/22/615-revision-6/',0,'revision','',0),(630,1,'2010-09-22 17:39:32','2010-09-23 00:39:32','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/hadesigns/4753128004/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-616\" title=\"lunchtimepedi\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/pedi-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>A couple of months ago I ran into a co-worker who was returning to the office in those flimsy flip-flops they give you after a pedicure.   I asked her why on earth she was wearing them at work.  Because she just enjoyed a pedicure during her lunch hour, that\'s why.  Duh! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This would have never occurred to me.  Maybe because I was a teacher for 16 years, and teachers scarf down their food in a nanosecond so that they can return to their kiddos.  (If they don\'t have lunch duty.)  Teachers don\'t run out in broad daylight to participate in something luxurious.  Luxury is reserved for weekends only. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>A few weeks later, I witnessed another colleague donning the flimsy flip-flops in the early afternoon.  And after that, I spied one of the MANAGERS strolling around in her f-f-fs.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I believe that I mentioned previously that we are blessed with a pretty stellar culture. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>That\'s when I finally got the memo.  It\'s O.K. to have a \"Calgon, take me away\" moment in the middle of the workday.  In fact, I highly encourage it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>You may now hear the same inner chatter that I once heard:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have too much to do!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I need to eat!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?  What if my boss sees me?!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"> </p>\r\n\r\n<p>As your friend who fancies herself an armchair therapist, I lovingly tell you to tell your anxious inner chit-chat to hit the road, sister! </p>','Day 7:  Lunchtime Luxury ','','inherit','open','open','','615-revision-7','','','2010-09-22 17:39:32','2010-09-23 00:39:32','',615,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/22/615-revision-7/',0,'revision','',0),(631,1,'2010-09-22 17:46:25','2010-09-23 00:46:25','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/hadesigns/4753128004/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-616\" title=\"lunchtimepedi\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/pedi-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>A couple of months ago I ran into a co-worker who was returning to the office in those flimsy flip-flops they give you after a pedicure.   I asked her why on earth she was wearing them at work.  Because she just enjoyed a pedicure during her lunch hour, that\'s why.  Duh! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This would have never occurred to me.  Maybe because I was a teacher for 16 years, and teachers scarf down their food in a nanosecond so that they can return to their kiddos.  (If they don\'t have lunch duty.)  Teachers don\'t run out in broad daylight to participate in something luxurious.  Luxury is reserved for weekends only. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>A few weeks later, I witnessed another colleague donning the flimsy flip-flops in the early afternoon.  And after that, I spied one of the MANAGERS strolling around in her f-f-fs.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I believe that I mentioned previously that we are blessed with a pretty stellar culture. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>That\'s when I finally got the memo.  It\'s O.K. to have a \"Calgon, take me away\" moment in the middle of the workday.  In fact, I highly encourage it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>You may now hear the same inner chatter that I once heard:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have too much to do!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I need to eat!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?  What if my boss sees me?!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"> </p>\r\n\r\n<p>As your friend who fancies herself an armchair therapist, I lovingly tell you to tell your anxious inner chit-chat to hit the road, sister! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And here\'s living proof why:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have to much to do!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Study after study after study proves that taking proper breaks leads to fresher thinking and more efficient work.  </span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I need to eat!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">That\'s whay a PB &amp; J at your desk is for.  Or take it with you.  Just make sure that you don\'t drop crumbs in the footbath.  That would be kind of gross. </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">I achieved pedi perfection in 45 minutes.  You can, too!</span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Yes, you are SuperWoman.  And you DESERVE to take a load off.  You\'ve EARNED it!  </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"What if my boss sees me?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Mine actually congratulated me for shaking things up and escaping to bliss.  If your boss is a real bitch, then hide from her.  Under no circumstances wear our f-f-fs back to the office.  </span></span></p>','Day 7:  Lunchtime Luxury ','','inherit','open','open','','615-revision-8','','','2010-09-22 17:46:25','2010-09-23 00:46:25','',615,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/22/615-revision-8/',0,'revision','',0),(632,1,'2010-09-22 17:46:32','2010-09-23 00:46:32','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/hadesigns/4753128004/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-616\" title=\"lunchtimepedi\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/pedi-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>A couple of months ago I ran into a co-worker who was returning to the office in those flimsy flip-flops they give you after a pedicure.   I asked her why on earth she was wearing them at work.  Because she just enjoyed a pedicure during her lunch hour, that\'s why.  Duh! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This would have never occurred to me.  Maybe because I was a teacher for 16 years, and teachers scarf down their food in a nanosecond so that they can return to their kiddos.  (If they don\'t have lunch duty.)  Teachers don\'t run out in broad daylight to participate in something luxurious.  Luxury is reserved for weekends only. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>A few weeks later, I witnessed another colleague donning the flimsy flip-flops in the early afternoon.  And after that, I spied one of the MANAGERS strolling around in her f-f-fs.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I believe that I mentioned previously that we are blessed with a pretty stellar culture. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>That\'s when I finally got the memo.  It\'s O.K. to have a \"Calgon, take me away\" moment in the middle of the workday.  In fact, I highly encourage it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>You may now hear the same inner chatter that I once heard:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have too much to do!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I need to eat!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?  What if my boss sees me?!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"> </p>\r\n\r\n<p>As your friend who fancies herself an armchair therapist, I lovingly tell you to tell your anxious inner chit-chat to hit the road, sister! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And here\'s living proof why:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have to much to do!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Study after study after study proves that taking proper breaks leads to fresher thinking and more efficient work.  </span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I need to eat!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">That\'s whay a PB &amp; J at your desk is for.  Or take it with you.  Just make sure that you don\'t drop crumbs in the footbath.  That would be kind of gross. </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">I achieved pedi perfection in 45 minutes.  You can, too!</span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Yes, you are SuperWoman.  And you DESERVE to take a load off.  You\'ve EARNED it!  </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"What if my boss sees me?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Mine actually congratulated me for shaking things up and escaping to bliss.  If your boss is a real bitch, then hide from her.  Under no circumstances wear our f-f-fs back to the office.  </span></span></p>','Day 7:  Lunchtime Luxury ','','inherit','open','open','','615-revision-9','','','2010-09-22 17:46:32','2010-09-23 00:46:32','',615,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/22/615-revision-9/',0,'revision','',0),(633,1,'2010-09-22 17:47:39','2010-09-23 00:47:39','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/hadesigns/4753128004/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-616\" title=\"lunchtimepedi\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/pedi-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>A couple of months ago I ran into a co-worker who was returning to the office in those flimsy flip-flops they give you after a pedicure.   I asked her why on earth she was wearing them at work.  Because she just enjoyed a pedicure during her lunch hour, that\'s why.  Duh! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This would have never occurred to me.  Maybe because I was a teacher for 16 years, and teachers scarf down their food in a nanosecond so that they can return to their kiddos.  (If they don\'t have lunch duty.)  Teachers don\'t run out in broad daylight to participate in something luxurious.  Luxury is reserved for weekends only. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>A few weeks later, I witnessed another colleague donning the flimsy flip-flops in the early afternoon.  And after that, I spied one of the MANAGERS strolling around in her f-f-fs.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I believe that I mentioned previously that we are blessed with a pretty stellar culture. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>That\'s when I finally got the memo.  It\'s O.K. to have a \"Calgon, take me away\" moment in the middle of the workday.  In fact, I highly encourage it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>You may now hear the same inner chatter that I once heard:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have too much to do!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I need to eat!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?  What if my boss sees me?!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"> </p>\r\n\r\n<p>As your friend who fancies herself an armchair therapist, I lovingly tell you to tell your anxious inner chit-chat to hit the road, sister! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And here\'s living proof why:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have to much to do!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Study after study after study proves that taking proper breaks leads to fresher thinking and more efficient work.  </span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I need to eat!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">That\'s whay a PB &amp; J at your desk is for.  Or take it with you.  Just make sure that you don\'t drop crumbs in the footbath.  That would be kind of gross. </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">I achieved pedi perfection in 45 minutes.  You can, too!</span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Yes, you are SuperWoman.  And you DESERVE to take a load off.  You\'ve EARNED it!  </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"What if my boss sees me?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Mine actually congratulated me for shaking things up and escaping to bliss.  If your boss is a real bitch, then hide from her.  Under no circumstances wear our f-f-fs back to the office.  </span></span></p>','Day 7:  Lunchtime Luxury ','','inherit','open','open','','615-revision-10','','','2010-09-22 17:47:39','2010-09-23 00:47:39','',615,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/22/615-revision-10/',0,'revision','',0),(634,1,'2010-09-22 17:47:48','2010-09-23 00:47:48','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/hadesigns/4753128004/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-616\" title=\"lunchtimepedi\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/pedi-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>A couple of months ago I ran into a co-worker who was returning to the office in those flimsy flip-flops they give you after a pedicure.   I asked her why on earth she was wearing them at work.  Because she just enjoyed a pedicure during her lunch hour, that\'s why.  Duh! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This would have never occurred to me.  Maybe because I was a teacher for 16 years, and teachers scarf down their food in a nanosecond so that they can return to their kiddos.  (If they don\'t have lunch duty.)  Teachers don\'t run out in broad daylight to participate in something luxurious.  Luxury is reserved for weekends only. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>A few weeks later, I witnessed another colleague donning the flimsy flip-flops in the early afternoon.  And after that, I spied one of the MANAGERS strolling around in her f-f-fs.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I believe that I mentioned previously that we are blessed with a pretty stellar culture. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>That\'s when I finally got the memo.  It\'s O.K. to have a \"Calgon, take me away\" moment in the middle of the workday.  In fact, I highly encourage it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>You may now hear the same inner chatter that I once heard:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have too much to do!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I need to eat!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?  What if my boss sees me?!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"> </p>\r\n\r\n<p>As your friend who fancies herself an armchair therapist, I lovingly tell you to tell your anxious inner chit-chat to hit the road, sister! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And here\'s living proof why:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have to much to do!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Study after study after study proves that taking proper breaks leads to fresher thinking and more efficient work.  </span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I need to eat!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">That\'s whay a PB &amp; J at your desk is for.  Or take it with you.  Just make sure that you don\'t drop crumbs in the footbath.  That would be kind of gross. </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">I achieved pedi perfection in 45 minutes.  You can, too!</span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Yes, you are SuperWoman.  And you DESERVE to take a load off.  You\'ve EARNED it!  </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"What if my boss sees me?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Mine actually congratulated me for shaking things up and escaping to bliss.  If your boss is a real bitch, then hide from her.  Under no circumstances wear our f-f-fs back to the office.  </span></span></p>','Day 7:  Lunchtime Luxury ','','inherit','open','open','','615-revision-11','','','2010-09-22 17:47:48','2010-09-23 00:47:48','',615,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/22/615-revision-11/',0,'revision','',0),(635,1,'2010-09-22 17:48:24','2010-09-23 00:48:24','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/hadesigns/4753128004/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-616\" title=\"lunchtimepedi\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/pedi-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>A couple of months ago I ran into a co-worker who was returning to the office in those flimsy flip-flops they give you after a pedicure.   I asked her why on earth she was wearing them at work.  Because she just enjoyed a pedicure during her lunch hour, that\'s why.  Duh! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This would have never occurred to me.  Maybe because I was a teacher for 16 years, and teachers scarf down their food in a nanosecond so that they can return to their kiddos.  (If they don\'t have lunch duty.)  Teachers don\'t run out in broad daylight to participate in something luxurious.  Luxury is reserved for weekends only. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>A few weeks later, I witnessed another colleague donning the flimsy flip-flops in the early afternoon.  And after that, I spied one of the MANAGERS strolling around in her f-f-fs.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I believe that I mentioned previously that we are blessed with a pretty stellar culture. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>That\'s when I finally got the memo.  It\'s O.K. to have a \"Calgon, take me away\" moment in the middle of the workday.  In fact, I highly encourage it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>You may now hear the same inner chatter that I once heard:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have too much to do!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I need to eat!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?  What if my boss sees me?!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"> </p>\r\n\r\n<p>As your friend who fancies herself an armchair therapist, I lovingly tell you to tell your anxious inner chit-chat to hit the road, sister! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And here\'s living proof why:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have to much to do!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Study after study after study proves that taking proper breaks leads to fresher thinking and more efficient work.  </span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I need to eat!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">That\'s whay a PB &amp; J at your desk is for.  Or take it with you.  Just make sure that you don\'t drop crumbs in the footbath.  That would be kind of gross. </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">I achieved pedi perfection in 45 minutes.  You can, too!</span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Yes, you are SuperWoman.  And you DESERVE to take a load off.  You\'ve EARNED it!  </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"What if my boss sees me?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Mine actually congratulated me for shaking things up and escaping to bliss.  If your boss is a real bitch, then hide from her.  Under no circumstances wear our f-f-fs back to the office.  </span></span></p>','Day 7:  Lunchtime Luxury ','','inherit','open','open','','615-revision-12','','','2010-09-22 17:48:24','2010-09-23 00:48:24','',615,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/22/615-revision-12/',0,'revision','',0),(636,1,'2010-09-22 17:48:31','2010-09-23 00:48:31','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/hadesigns/4753128004/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-616\" title=\"lunchtimepedi\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/pedi-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>A couple of months ago I ran into a co-worker who was returning to the office in those flimsy flip-flops they give you after a pedicure.   I asked her why on earth she was wearing them at work.  Because she just enjoyed a pedicure during her lunch hour, that\'s why.  Duh! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This would have never occurred to me.  Maybe because I was a teacher for 16 years, and teachers scarf down their food in a nanosecond so that they can return to their kiddos.  (If they don\'t have lunch duty.)  Teachers don\'t run out in broad daylight to participate in something luxurious.  Luxury is reserved for weekends only. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>A few weeks later, I witnessed another colleague donning the flimsy flip-flops in the early afternoon.  And after that, I spied one of the MANAGERS strolling around in her f-f-fs.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I believe that I mentioned previously that we are blessed with a pretty stellar culture. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>That\'s when I finally got the memo.  It\'s O.K. to have a \"Calgon, take me away\" moment in the middle of the workday.  In fact, I highly encourage it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>You may now hear the same inner chatter that I once heard:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have too much to do!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I need to eat!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?  What if my boss sees me?!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"> </p>\r\n\r\n<p>As your friend who fancies herself an armchair therapist, I lovingly tell you to tell your anxious inner chit-chat to hit the road, sister! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And here\'s living proof why:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have to much to do!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Study after study after study proves that taking proper breaks leads to fresher thinking and more efficient work.  </span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I need to eat!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">That\'s whay a PB &amp; J at your desk is for.  Or take it with you.  Just make sure that you don\'t drop crumbs in the footbath.  That would be kind of gross. </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">I achieved pedi perfection in 45 minutes.  You can, too!</span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Yes, you are SuperWoman.  And you DESERVE to take a load off.  You\'ve EARNED it!  </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"What if my boss sees me?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Mine actually congratulated me for shaking things up and escaping to bliss.  If your boss is a real bitch, then hide from her.  Under no circumstances wear our f-f-fs back to the office.  </span></span></p>','Day 7:  Lunchtime Luxury ','','inherit','open','open','','615-revision-13','','','2010-09-22 17:48:31','2010-09-23 00:48:31','',615,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/22/615-revision-13/',0,'revision','',0),(638,1,'2010-09-22 17:56:11','2010-09-23 00:56:11','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/hadesigns/4753128004/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-616\" title=\"lunchtimepedi\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/pedi-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>A couple of months ago I ran into a co-worker who was returning to the office in those flimsy flip-flops they give you after a pedicure.   I asked her why on earth she was wearing them at work.  Because she just enjoyed a pedicure during her lunch hour, that\'s why.  Duh! </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>This would have never occurred to me.  Maybe because I was a teacher for 16 years, and teachers scarf down their food in a nanosecond so that they can return to their kiddos.  (If they don\'t have lunch duty.)  Teachers don\'t run out in broad daylight to participate in something luxurious.  Luxury is reserved for weekends only. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>A few weeks later, I witnessed another colleague donning the flimsy flip-flops in the early afternoon.  And after that, I spied one of the MANAGERS strolling around in her f-f-fs.  </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>I believe that I mentioned previously that we are blessed with a pretty stellar culture. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>That\'s when I finally got the memo.  It\'s O.K. to have a \"Calgon, take me away\" moment in the middle of the workday.  In fact, I highly encourage it. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>You may now hear the same inner chatter that I once heard:</p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have too much to do!\" </p>\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I need to eat!\"</p>\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"</p>\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?  What if my boss sees me?!\"</p>\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"> </p>\r\n<p>As your friend who fancies herself an armchair therapist, I lovingly tell you to tell your anxious inner chit-chat to hit the road, sister! </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>And here\'s living proof why:</p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have to much to do!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Study after study after study proves that taking proper breaks leads to fresher thinking and more efficient work.  </span></p>\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span> </p>\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I need to eat!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">That\'s what a PB &amp; J at your desk is for.  Or take it with you.  Just make sure that you don\'t drop crumbs in the footbath.  That would be kind of gross. </span></span></p>\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">I achieved pedi perfection in 45 minutes.  You can, too!</span></span></p>\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Yes, you are SuperWoman.  And you DESERVE to take a load off.  You\'ve EARNED it!  </span></span></p>\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"What if my boss sees me?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Mine actually congratulated me for shaking things up and escaping to bliss.  If your boss is a real bitch, then hide from her.  Under no circumstances wear your f-f-fs back to the office.  </span></span></p>\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #000000;\">It\'s going to be more than O.K.  Trust me on this one.  </span></p>\r\n','Day 7:  Lunchtime Luxury ','','inherit','open','open','','615-revision-15','','','2010-09-22 17:56:11','2010-09-23 00:56:11','',615,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/22/615-revision-15/',0,'revision','',0),(637,1,'2010-09-22 17:56:06','2010-09-23 00:56:06','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/hadesigns/4753128004/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-616\" title=\"lunchtimepedi\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/pedi-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>A couple of months ago I ran into a co-worker who was returning to the office in those flimsy flip-flops they give you after a pedicure.   I asked her why on earth she was wearing them at work.  Because she just enjoyed a pedicure during her lunch hour, that\'s why.  Duh! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This would have never occurred to me.  Maybe because I was a teacher for 16 years, and teachers scarf down their food in a nanosecond so that they can return to their kiddos.  (If they don\'t have lunch duty.)  Teachers don\'t run out in broad daylight to participate in something luxurious.  Luxury is reserved for weekends only. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>A few weeks later, I witnessed another colleague donning the flimsy flip-flops in the early afternoon.  And after that, I spied one of the MANAGERS strolling around in her f-f-fs.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I believe that I mentioned previously that we are blessed with a pretty stellar culture. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>That\'s when I finally got the memo.  It\'s O.K. to have a \"Calgon, take me away\" moment in the middle of the workday.  In fact, I highly encourage it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>You may now hear the same inner chatter that I once heard:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have too much to do!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I need to eat!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?  What if my boss sees me?!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"> </p>\r\n\r\n<p>As your friend who fancies herself an armchair therapist, I lovingly tell you to tell your anxious inner chit-chat to hit the road, sister! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And here\'s living proof why:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have to much to do!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Study after study after study proves that taking proper breaks leads to fresher thinking and more efficient work.  </span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I need to eat!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">That\'s what a PB &amp; J at your desk is for.  Or take it with you.  Just make sure that you don\'t drop crumbs in the footbath.  That would be kind of gross. </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">I achieved pedi perfection in 45 minutes.  You can, too!</span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Yes, you are SuperWoman.  And you DESERVE to take a load off.  You\'ve EARNED it!  </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"What if my boss sees me?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Mine actually congratulated me for shaking things up and escaping to bliss.  If your boss is a real bitch, then hide from her.  Under no circumstances wear your f-f-fs back to the office.  </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #000000;\">It\'s going to be more than O.K.  Trust me on this one.  </span></p>','Day 7:  Lunchtime Luxury ','','inherit','open','open','','615-revision-14','','','2010-09-22 17:56:06','2010-09-23 00:56:06','',615,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/22/615-revision-14/',0,'revision','',0),(644,1,'2010-09-22 20:34:42','2010-09-23 03:34:42','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/hadesigns/4753128004/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-616\" title=\"lunchtimepedi\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/pedi-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>A couple of months ago I ran into a co-worker who was returning to the office in those flimsy flip-flops they give you after a pedicure.   I asked her why on earth she was wearing them at work.  Because she just enjoyed a pedicure during her lunch hour, that\'s why.  Duh! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Leaving work for a lunchtime pedi would have never occurred to me.  Maybe because I was a teacher for 16 years, and during lunch, teachers scarf down their food in a nanosecond so that they can return to their kiddos.  (If they don\'t have lunch duty.)  Teachers don\'t run out in broad daylight to revel in something luxurious. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>A few weeks later, I witnessed another colleague donning the flimsy flip-flops in the early afternoon.  And after that, I spied one of the MANAGERS strolling around in her f-f-fs.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>That\'s when I finally got the memo.  It\'s O.K. to have a \"Calgon, take me away\" moment in the middle of the workday.  In fact, I highly encourage it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>You may now hear the same inner chatter that I once listened to:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have too much to do!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I need to eat!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?  What if my boss sees me?!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"> </p>\r\n\r\n<p>As your friend who fancies herself an armchair therapist, I lovingly tell you to tell your anxious inner chit-chat to hit the road, sister! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And here\'s living proof why:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have to much to do!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Study after study after study proves that taking proper breaks leads to fresher thinking and more efficient work.  </span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I need to eat!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">That\'s what a PB &amp; J at your desk is for.  Or take it with you.  Just make sure that you don\'t drop crumbs in the footbath.  That would be kind of gross. </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">I achieved pedi perfection in 45 minutes.  You can, too!</span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Yes, you are SuperWoman.  And you DESERVE to take a load off.  You\'ve EARNED it!  </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"What if my boss sees me?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Mine actually congratulated me for shaking things up and escaping to bliss.  If your boss is a real bitch, then hide from her.  Under no circumstances wear your f-f-fs back to the office.  </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #000000;\">When will you schedule your lunchtime luxury?   It\'s going to be more than O.K.  Trust me on this one.  </span></p>','Day 7:  Lunchtime Luxury ','','inherit','open','open','','615-revision-21','','','2010-09-22 20:34:42','2010-09-23 03:34:42','',615,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/22/615-revision-21/',0,'revision','',0),(639,1,'2010-09-22 17:59:07','2010-09-23 00:59:07','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/hadesigns/4753128004/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-616\" title=\"lunchtimepedi\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/pedi-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>A couple of months ago I ran into a co-worker who was returning to the office in those flimsy flip-flops they give you after a pedicure.   I asked her why on earth she was wearing them at work.  Because she just enjoyed a pedicure during her lunch hour, that\'s why.  Duh! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Leaving work for a lunchtime pedi would have never occurred to me.  Maybe because I was a teacher for 16 years, and teachers scarf down their food in a nanosecond so that they can return to their kiddos.  (If they don\'t have lunch duty.)  Teachers don\'t run out in broad daylight to participate in something luxurious.  Luxury is reserved for weekends only. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>A few weeks later, I witnessed another colleague donning the flimsy flip-flops in the early afternoon.  And after that, I spied one of the MANAGERS strolling around in her f-f-fs.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I believe that I mentioned previously that we are blessed with a pretty stellar culture. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>That\'s when I finally got the memo.  It\'s O.K. to have a \"Calgon, take me away\" moment in the middle of the workday.  In fact, I highly encourage it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>You may now hear the same inner chatter that I once heard:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have too much to do!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I need to eat!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?  What if my boss sees me?!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"> </p>\r\n\r\n<p>As your friend who fancies herself an armchair therapist, I lovingly tell you to tell your anxious inner chit-chat to hit the road, sister! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And here\'s living proof why:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have to much to do!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Study after study after study proves that taking proper breaks leads to fresher thinking and more efficient work.  </span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I need to eat!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">That\'s what a PB &amp; J at your desk is for.  Or take it with you.  Just make sure that you don\'t drop crumbs in the footbath.  That would be kind of gross. </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">I achieved pedi perfection in 45 minutes.  You can, too!</span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Yes, you are SuperWoman.  And you DESERVE to take a load off.  You\'ve EARNED it!  </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"What if my boss sees me?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Mine actually congratulated me for shaking things up and escaping to bliss.  If your boss is a real bitch, then hide from her.  Under no circumstances wear your f-f-fs back to the office.  </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #000000;\">It\'s going to be more than O.K.  Trust me on this one.  </span></p>','Day 7:  Lunchtime Luxury ','','inherit','open','open','','615-revision-16','','','2010-09-22 17:59:07','2010-09-23 00:59:07','',615,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/22/615-revision-16/',0,'revision','',0),(640,1,'2010-09-22 17:59:14','2010-09-23 00:59:14','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/hadesigns/4753128004/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-616\" title=\"lunchtimepedi\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/pedi-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>A couple of months ago I ran into a co-worker who was returning to the office in those flimsy flip-flops they give you after a pedicure.   I asked her why on earth she was wearing them at work.  Because she just enjoyed a pedicure during her lunch hour, that\'s why.  Duh! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Leaving work for a lunchtime pedi would have never occurred to me.  Maybe because I was a teacher for 16 years, and teachers scarf down their food in a nanosecond so that they can return to their kiddos.  (If they don\'t have lunch duty.)  Teachers don\'t run out in broad daylight to participate in something luxurious.  Luxury is reserved for weekends only. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>A few weeks later, I witnessed another colleague donning the flimsy flip-flops in the early afternoon.  And after that, I spied one of the MANAGERS strolling around in her f-f-fs.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I believe that I mentioned previously that we are blessed with a pretty stellar culture. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>That\'s when I finally got the memo.  It\'s O.K. to have a \"Calgon, take me away\" moment in the middle of the workday.  In fact, I highly encourage it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>You may now hear the same inner chatter that I once heard:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have too much to do!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I need to eat!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?  What if my boss sees me?!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"> </p>\r\n\r\n<p>As your friend who fancies herself an armchair therapist, I lovingly tell you to tell your anxious inner chit-chat to hit the road, sister! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And here\'s living proof why:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have to much to do!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Study after study after study proves that taking proper breaks leads to fresher thinking and more efficient work.  </span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I need to eat!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">That\'s what a PB &amp; J at your desk is for.  Or take it with you.  Just make sure that you don\'t drop crumbs in the footbath.  That would be kind of gross. </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">I achieved pedi perfection in 45 minutes.  You can, too!</span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Yes, you are SuperWoman.  And you DESERVE to take a load off.  You\'ve EARNED it!  </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"What if my boss sees me?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Mine actually congratulated me for shaking things up and escaping to bliss.  If your boss is a real bitch, then hide from her.  Under no circumstances wear your f-f-fs back to the office.  </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #000000;\">It\'s going to be more than O.K.  Trust me on this one.  </span></p>','Day 7:  Lunchtime Luxury ','','inherit','open','open','','615-revision-17','','','2010-09-22 17:59:14','2010-09-23 00:59:14','',615,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/22/615-revision-17/',0,'revision','',0),(641,1,'2010-09-22 18:01:00','2010-09-23 01:01:00','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/hadesigns/4753128004/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-616\" title=\"lunchtimepedi\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/pedi-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>A couple of months ago I ran into a co-worker who was returning to the office in those flimsy flip-flops they give you after a pedicure.   I asked her why on earth she was wearing them at work.  Because she just enjoyed a pedicure during her lunch hour, that\'s why.  Duh! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Leaving work for a lunchtime pedi would have never occurred to me.  Maybe because I was a teacher for 16 years, and teachers scarf down their food in a nanosecond so that they can return to their kiddos.  (If they don\'t have lunch duty.)  Teachers don\'t run out in broad daylight to participate in something luxurious. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>A few weeks later, I witnessed another colleague donning the flimsy flip-flops in the early afternoon.  And after that, I spied one of the MANAGERS strolling around in her f-f-fs.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I believe that I mentioned previously that we are blessed with a pretty stellar culture. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>That\'s when I finally got the memo.  It\'s O.K. to have a \"Calgon, take me away\" moment in the middle of the workday.  In fact, I highly encourage it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>You may now hear the same inner chatter that I once heard:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have too much to do!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I need to eat!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?  What if my boss sees me?!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"> </p>\r\n\r\n<p>As your friend who fancies herself an armchair therapist, I lovingly tell you to tell your anxious inner chit-chat to hit the road, sister! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And here\'s living proof why:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have to much to do!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Study after study after study proves that taking proper breaks leads to fresher thinking and more efficient work.  </span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I need to eat!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">That\'s what a PB &amp; J at your desk is for.  Or take it with you.  Just make sure that you don\'t drop crumbs in the footbath.  That would be kind of gross. </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">I achieved pedi perfection in 45 minutes.  You can, too!</span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Yes, you are SuperWoman.  And you DESERVE to take a load off.  You\'ve EARNED it!  </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"What if my boss sees me?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Mine actually congratulated me for shaking things up and escaping to bliss.  If your boss is a real bitch, then hide from her.  Under no circumstances wear your f-f-fs back to the office.  </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #000000;\">It\'s going to be more than O.K.  Trust me on this one.  </span></p>','Day 7:  Lunchtime Luxury ','','inherit','open','open','','615-revision-18','','','2010-09-22 18:01:00','2010-09-23 01:01:00','',615,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/22/615-revision-18/',0,'revision','',0),(642,1,'2010-09-22 18:01:06','2010-09-23 01:01:06','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/hadesigns/4753128004/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-616\" title=\"lunchtimepedi\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/pedi-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>A couple of months ago I ran into a co-worker who was returning to the office in those flimsy flip-flops they give you after a pedicure.   I asked her why on earth she was wearing them at work.  Because she just enjoyed a pedicure during her lunch hour, that\'s why.  Duh! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Leaving work for a lunchtime pedi would have never occurred to me.  Maybe because I was a teacher for 16 years, and teachers scarf down their food in a nanosecond so that they can return to their kiddos.  (If they don\'t have lunch duty.)  Teachers don\'t run out in broad daylight to participate in something luxurious. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>A few weeks later, I witnessed another colleague donning the flimsy flip-flops in the early afternoon.  And after that, I spied one of the MANAGERS strolling around in her f-f-fs.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I believe that I mentioned previously that we are blessed with a pretty stellar culture. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>That\'s when I finally got the memo.  It\'s O.K. to have a \"Calgon, take me away\" moment in the middle of the workday.  In fact, I highly encourage it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>You may now hear the same inner chatter that I once heard:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have too much to do!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I need to eat!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?  What if my boss sees me?!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"> </p>\r\n\r\n<p>As your friend who fancies herself an armchair therapist, I lovingly tell you to tell your anxious inner chit-chat to hit the road, sister! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And here\'s living proof why:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have to much to do!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Study after study after study proves that taking proper breaks leads to fresher thinking and more efficient work.  </span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I need to eat!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">That\'s what a PB &amp; J at your desk is for.  Or take it with you.  Just make sure that you don\'t drop crumbs in the footbath.  That would be kind of gross. </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">I achieved pedi perfection in 45 minutes.  You can, too!</span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Yes, you are SuperWoman.  And you DESERVE to take a load off.  You\'ve EARNED it!  </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"What if my boss sees me?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Mine actually congratulated me for shaking things up and escaping to bliss.  If your boss is a real bitch, then hide from her.  Under no circumstances wear your f-f-fs back to the office.  </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #000000;\">It\'s going to be more than O.K.  Trust me on this one.  </span></p>','Day 7:  Lunchtime Luxury ','','inherit','open','open','','615-revision-19','','','2010-09-22 18:01:06','2010-09-23 01:01:06','',615,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/22/615-revision-19/',0,'revision','',0),(643,1,'2010-09-22 18:03:06','2010-09-23 01:03:06','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/hadesigns/4753128004/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-616\" title=\"lunchtimepedi\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/pedi-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>A couple of months ago I ran into a co-worker who was returning to the office in those flimsy flip-flops they give you after a pedicure.   I asked her why on earth she was wearing them at work.  Because she just enjoyed a pedicure during her lunch hour, that\'s why.  Duh! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Leaving work for a lunchtime pedi would have never occurred to me.  Maybe because I was a teacher for 16 years, and teachers scarf down their food in a nanosecond so that they can return to their kiddos.  (If they don\'t have lunch duty.)  Teachers don\'t run out in broad daylight to participate in something luxurious. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>A few weeks later, I witnessed another colleague donning the flimsy flip-flops in the early afternoon.  And after that, I spied one of the MANAGERS strolling around in her f-f-fs.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I believe that I mentioned previously that we are blessed with a pretty stellar culture. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>That\'s when I finally got the memo.  It\'s O.K. to have a \"Calgon, take me away\" moment in the middle of the workday.  In fact, I highly encourage it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>You may now hear the same inner chatter that I once heard:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have too much to do!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I need to eat!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?  What if my boss sees me?!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"> </p>\r\n\r\n<p>As your friend who fancies herself an armchair therapist, I lovingly tell you to tell your anxious inner chit-chat to hit the road, sister! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And here\'s living proof why:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have to much to do!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Study after study after study proves that taking proper breaks leads to fresher thinking and more efficient work.  </span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I need to eat!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">That\'s what a PB &amp; J at your desk is for.  Or take it with you.  Just make sure that you don\'t drop crumbs in the footbath.  That would be kind of gross. </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">I achieved pedi perfection in 45 minutes.  You can, too!</span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Yes, you are SuperWoman.  And you DESERVE to take a load off.  You\'ve EARNED it!  </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"What if my boss sees me?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Mine actually congratulated me for shaking things up and escaping to bliss.  If your boss is a real bitch, then hide from her.  Under no circumstances wear your f-f-fs back to the office.  </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #000000;\">When will you schedule your   It\'s going to be more than O.K.  Trust me on this one.  </span></p>','Day 7:  Lunchtime Luxury ','','inherit','open','open','','615-revision-20','','','2010-09-22 18:03:06','2010-09-23 01:03:06','',615,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/22/615-revision-20/',0,'revision','',0),(645,1,'2010-09-22 20:35:28','2010-09-23 03:35:28','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/hadesigns/4753128004/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-616\" title=\"lunchtimepedi\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/pedi-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>A couple of months ago I ran into a co-worker who was returning to the office in those flimsy flip-flops they give you after a pedicure.   I asked her why on earth she was wearing them at work.  Because she just enjoyed a pedicure during her lunch hour, that\'s why.  Duh! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Leaving work for a lunchtime pedi would have never occurred to me.  Maybe because I was a teacher for 16 years, and during lunch, teachers scarf down their food in a nanosecond so that they can return to their kiddos.  (If they don\'t have lunch duty.)  Teachers don\'t run out in broad daylight to revel in something luxurious. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>A few weeks later, I witnessed another colleague donning the flimsy flip-flops in the early afternoon.  And after that, I spied one of the MANAGERS strolling around in her f-f-fs.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>That\'s when I finally got the memo.  It\'s O.K. to have a \"Calgon, take me away\" moment in the middle of the workday.  In fact, I highly encourage it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>You may now hear the same inner chatter that I once listened to:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have too much to do!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I need to eat!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?  What if my boss sees me?!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"> </p>\r\n\r\n<p>As your friend who fancies herself an armchair therapist, I lovingly tell you to tell your anxious inner chit-chat to hit the road, sister! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And here\'s living proof why:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have to much to do!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Study after study after study proves that taking proper breaks leads to fresher thinking and more efficient work.  </span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I need to eat!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">That\'s what a PB &amp; J at your desk is for.  Or take it with you.  Just make sure that you don\'t drop crumbs in the foot bath.  That would be kind of gross. </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">I achieved pedi perfection in 45 minutes.  You can, too!</span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Yes, you are SuperWoman.  And you DESERVE to take a load off.  You\'ve EARNED it!  </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"What if my boss sees me?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Mine actually congratulated me for shaking things up and escaping to bliss.  If your boss is a real bitch, then hide from her.  Under no circumstances wear your f-f-fs back to the office.  </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #000000;\">When will you schedule your lunchtime luxury?   It\'s going to be more than O.K.  Trust me on this one.  </span></p>','Day 7:  Lunchtime Luxury ','','inherit','open','open','','615-revision-22','','','2010-09-22 20:35:28','2010-09-23 03:35:28','',615,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/22/615-revision-22/',0,'revision','',0),(646,1,'2010-09-22 20:36:49','2010-09-23 03:36:49','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/hadesigns/4753128004/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-616\" title=\"lunchtimepedi\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/pedi-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>A couple of months ago I ran into a co-worker who was returning to the office in those flimsy flip-flops they give you after a pedicure.   I asked her why on earth she was wearing them at work.  Because she just enjoyed a pedicure during her lunch hour, that\'s why.  Duh! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Leaving work for a lunchtime pedi would have never occurred to me.  Maybe because I was a teacher for 16 years, and during lunch, teachers scarf down their food in a nanosecond so that they can return to their kiddos.  (If they don\'t have lunch duty.)  Teachers don\'t run out in broad daylight to revel in something luxurious. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>A few weeks later, I witnessed another colleague donning the flimsy flip-flops in the early afternoon.  And after that, I spied one of the MANAGERS strolling around in her f-f-fs.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>That\'s when I finally got the memo.  It\'s O.K. to have a \"Calgon, take me away\" moment in the middle of the workday.  In fact, I highly encourage it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>You may now hear the same inner chatter that I once listened to:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have too much to do!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I need to eat!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?  What if my boss sees me?!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"> </p>\r\n\r\n<p>As your friend who fancies herself an armchair therapist, I lovingly tell you to tell your anxious inner chit-chat to hit the road, sister! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And here\'s living proof why:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have too much to do!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Study after study after study proves that taking proper breaks leads to fresher thinking and more efficient work.  </span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I need to eat!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">That\'s what a PB &amp; J at your desk is for.  Or take it with you.  Just make sure that you don\'t drop crumbs in the foot bath.  That would be kind of gross. </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">I achieved pedi perfection in 45 minutes.  You can, too!</span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Yes, you are SuperWoman.  And you DESERVE to take a load off.  You\'ve EARNED it!  </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"What if my boss sees me?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Mine actually congratulated me for shaking things up and escaping to bliss.  If your boss is a real bitch, then hide from her.  Under no circumstances wear your f-f-fs back to the office.  </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #000000;\">When will you schedule your lunchtime luxury?   It\'s going to be more than O.K.  Trust me on this one.  </span></p>','Day 7:  Lunchtime Luxury ','','inherit','open','open','','615-revision-23','','','2010-09-22 20:36:49','2010-09-23 03:36:49','',615,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/22/615-revision-23/',0,'revision','',0),(647,1,'2010-09-22 20:40:19','2010-09-23 03:40:19','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/hadesigns/4753128004/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-616\" title=\"lunchtimepedi\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/pedi-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>A couple of months ago I ran into a co-worker who was returning to the office in those flimsy flip-flops they give you after a pedicure.   I asked her why on earth she was wearing them at work.  Because she just enjoyed a pedicure during her lunch hour, that\'s why.  Duh! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Leaving work for a lunchtime pedi would have never occurred to me.  Maybe because I was a teacher for 16 years, and during lunch, teachers scarf down their food in a nanosecond so that they can return to their kiddos.  (If they don\'t have lunch duty.)  Teachers don\'t run out in broad daylight to revel in something luxurious. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>A few weeks later, I witnessed another colleague donning the flimsy flip-flops in the early afternoon.  And after that, I spied one of the MANAGERS strolling around in her f-f-fs.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>That\'s when I finally got the memo.  It\'s O.K. to have a \"Calgon, take me away\" moment in the middle of the workday.  In fact, I highly encourage it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>You may now hear the same inner chatter that I once listened to:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have too much to do!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I need to eat!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?  What if my boss sees me?!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"> </p>\r\n\r\n<p>As your friend who fancies herself an armchair therapist, I lovingly tell you to tell your anxious inner chit-chat to hit the road, sister! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And here\'s living proof why:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have too much to do!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Study after study after study proves that taking proper breaks leads to fresher thinking and more efficient work.  </span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I need to eat!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">That\'s what a PB &amp; J at your desk is for.  Or take it with you.  Just make sure that you don\'t drop crumbs in the foot bath.  That would be kind of gross. </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">I achieved pedi perfection in 45 minutes.  You can, too!</span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Yes, you are SuperWoman.  And you DESERVE to take a load off.  You\'ve EARNED it!  </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"What if my boss sees me?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Mine actually congratulated me for shaking things up and escaping to bliss.  If your boss is a real bitch, then hide from her.  Under no circumstances wear your f-f-fs back to the office.  </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #000000;\">When will you schedule your lunchtime luxury?   It\'s going to be more than O.K.  Trust me on this one.  </span></p>','Day 7:  Lunchtime Luxury ','','inherit','open','open','','615-revision-24','','','2010-09-22 20:40:19','2010-09-23 03:40:19','',615,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/22/615-revision-24/',0,'revision','',0),(648,1,'2010-09-22 20:41:20','2010-09-23 03:41:20','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/hadesigns/4753128004/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-616\" title=\"lunchtimepedi\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/pedi-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>A couple of months ago I ran into a co-worker who was returning to the office in those flimsy flip-flops they give you after a pedicure.   I asked her why on earth she was wearing them at work.  Because she just enjoyed a pedicure during her lunch hour, that\'s why.  Duh! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Leaving work for a lunchtime pedi would have never occurred to me.  Maybe because I was a teacher for 16 years, and during lunch, teachers scarf down their food in a nanosecond so that they can return to their kiddos.  (If they don\'t have lunch duty.)  Teachers don\'t run out in broad daylight to revel in something luxurious. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>A few weeks later, I witnessed another colleague donning the flimsy flip-flops in the early afternoon.  And after that, I spied one of the MANAGERS strolling around in her f-f-fs.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>That\'s when I finally got the memo.  It\'s O.K. to have a \"Calgon, take me away\" moment in the middle of the workday.  In fact, I highly encourage it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>You may now hear the same inner chatter that I once listened to:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have too much to do!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I need to eat!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?  What if my boss sees me?!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"> </p>\r\n\r\n<p>As your friend who fancies herself an armchair therapist, I lovingly tell you to tell your anxious inner chit-chat to hit the road, sister! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And here\'s living proof why:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have too much to do!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Study after study after study proves that taking proper breaks leads to fresher thinking and more efficient work.  </span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I need to eat!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">That\'s what a PB &amp; J at your desk is for.  Or take it with you.  Just make sure that you don\'t drop crumbs in the foot bath.  That would be kind of gross. </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">I achieved pedi perfection in 45 minutes.  You can, too!</span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Yes, you are SuperWoman.  And you DESERVE to take a load off.  You\'ve EARNED it!  </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"What if my boss sees me?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Mine actually congratulated me for shaking things up and escaping to bliss.  If your boss is a real bitch, then hide from her.  Under no circumstances wear your f-f-fs back to the office.  </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #000000;\">When will you schedule your lunchtime luxury?   It\'s going to be more than O.K.  Trust me on this one.  </span></p>','Day 7:  Lunchtime Luxury ','','inherit','open','open','','615-revision-25','','','2010-09-22 20:41:20','2010-09-23 03:41:20','',615,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/22/615-revision-25/',0,'revision','',0),(649,1,'2010-09-22 20:49:44','2010-09-23 03:49:44','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/hadesigns/4753128004/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-616\" title=\"lunchtimepedi\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/pedi-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>A couple of months ago I ran into a co-worker who was returning to the office in those flimsy flip-flops they give you after a pedicure.   I asked her why on earth she was wearing them at work.  Because she just enjoyed a pedicure during her lunch hour, that\'s why.  Duh! </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Leaving work for a lunchtime pedi would have never occurred to me.  Maybe because I was a teacher for 16 years, and during lunch, teachers scarf down their food in a nanosecond so that they can return to their kiddos.  (If they don\'t have lunch duty.)  Teachers don\'t run out in broad daylight to revel in something luxurious. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>A few weeks later, I witnessed another colleague donning the flimsy flip-flops in the early afternoon.  And after that, I spied one of the MANAGERS strolling around in her f-f-fs.  </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>That\'s when I finally got the memo.  It\'s O.K. to have a \"Calgon, take me away\" moment in the middle of the workday.  In fact, I highly encourage it. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>You may now hear the same inner chatter that I once listened to:</p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have too much to do!\" </p>\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I need to eat!\"</p>\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"</p>\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?  What if my boss sees me?!\"</p>\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"> </p>\r\n<p>As your friend who fancies herself an armchair therapist, I lovingly tell you to tell your anxious inner chit-chat to hit the road, sister! </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>And here\'s living proof why:</p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have too much to do!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Study after study after study proves that taking proper breaks leads to fresher thinking and more efficient work.  </span></p>\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span> </p>\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I need to eat!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">That\'s what a PB &amp; J at your desk is for.  Or take it with you.  Just make sure that you don\'t drop crumbs in the foot bath.  That would be kind of gross. </span></span></p>\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">I achieved pedi perfection in 45 minutes.  You can, too!</span></span></p>\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Yes, you are SuperWoman.  And you DESERVE to take a load off.  You\'ve EARNED it!  </span></span></p>\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"What if my boss sees me?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Mine actually congratulated me for shaking things up and escaping to bliss.  If your boss is a real bitch, then hide from her.  Under no circumstances wear your f-f-fs back to the office.  If she interrogates you, tell her (or him) that you had your annual gynecological exam.  That should shut her/him up.  </span></span></p>\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #000000;\">When will you schedule your lunchtime luxury?   It\'s going to be more than O.K.  Trust me on this one.  </span></p>\r\n','Day 7:  Lunchtime Luxury ','','inherit','open','open','','615-autosave','','','2010-09-22 20:49:44','2010-09-23 03:49:44','',615,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/22/615-autosave/',0,'revision','',0),(650,1,'2010-09-22 20:41:28','2010-09-23 03:41:28','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/hadesigns/4753128004/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-616\" title=\"lunchtimepedi\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/pedi-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>A couple of months ago I ran into a co-worker who was returning to the office in those flimsy flip-flops they give you after a pedicure.   I asked her why on earth she was wearing them at work.  Because she just enjoyed a pedicure during her lunch hour, that\'s why.  Duh! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Leaving work for a lunchtime pedi would have never occurred to me.  Maybe because I was a teacher for 16 years, and during lunch, teachers scarf down their food in a nanosecond so that they can return to their kiddos.  (If they don\'t have lunch duty.)  Teachers don\'t run out in broad daylight to revel in something luxurious. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>A few weeks later, I witnessed another colleague donning the flimsy flip-flops in the early afternoon.  And after that, I spied one of the MANAGERS strolling around in her f-f-fs.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>That\'s when I finally got the memo.  It\'s O.K. to have a \"Calgon, take me away\" moment in the middle of the workday.  In fact, I highly encourage it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>You may now hear the same inner chatter that I once listened to:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have too much to do!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I need to eat!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?  What if my boss sees me?!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"> </p>\r\n\r\n<p>As your friend who fancies herself an armchair therapist, I lovingly tell you to tell your anxious inner chit-chat to hit the road, sister! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And here\'s living proof why:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have too much to do!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Study after study after study proves that taking proper breaks leads to fresher thinking and more efficient work.  </span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I need to eat!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">That\'s what a PB &amp; J at your desk is for.  Or take it with you.  Just make sure that you don\'t drop crumbs in the foot bath.  That would be kind of gross. </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">I achieved pedi perfection in 45 minutes.  You can, too!</span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Yes, you are SuperWoman.  And you DESERVE to take a load off.  You\'ve EARNED it!  </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"What if my boss sees me?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Mine actually congratulated me for shaking things up and escaping to bliss.  If your boss is a real bitch, then hide from her.  Under no circumstances wear your f-f-fs back to the office.  </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #000000;\">When will you schedule your lunchtime luxury?   It\'s going to be more than O.K.  Trust me on this one.  </span></p>','Day 7:  Lunchtime Luxury ','','inherit','open','open','','615-revision-26','','','2010-09-22 20:41:28','2010-09-23 03:41:28','',615,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/22/615-revision-26/',0,'revision','',0),(651,1,'2010-09-22 20:49:38','2010-09-23 03:49:38','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/hadesigns/4753128004/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-616\" title=\"lunchtimepedi\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/pedi-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>A couple of months ago I ran into a co-worker who was returning to the office in those flimsy flip-flops they give you after a pedicure.   I asked her why on earth she was wearing them at work.  Because she just enjoyed a pedicure during her lunch hour, that\'s why.  Duh! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Leaving work for a lunchtime pedi would have never occurred to me.  Maybe because I was a teacher for 16 years, and during lunch, teachers scarf down their food in a nanosecond so that they can return to their kiddos.  (If they don\'t have lunch duty.)  Teachers don\'t run out in broad daylight to revel in something luxurious. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>A few weeks later, I witnessed another colleague donning the flimsy flip-flops in the early afternoon.  And after that, I spied one of the MANAGERS strolling around in her f-f-fs.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>That\'s when I finally got the memo.  It\'s O.K. to have a \"Calgon, take me away\" moment in the middle of the workday.  In fact, I highly encourage it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>You may now hear the same inner chatter that I once listened to:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have too much to do!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I need to eat!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?  What if my boss sees me?!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"> </p>\r\n\r\n<p>As your friend who fancies herself an armchair therapist, I lovingly tell you to tell your anxious inner chit-chat to hit the road, sister! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And here\'s living proof why:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have too much to do!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Study after study after study proves that taking proper breaks leads to fresher thinking and more efficient work.  </span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I need to eat!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">That\'s what a PB &amp; J at your desk is for.  Or take it with you.  Just make sure that you don\'t drop crumbs in the foot bath.  That would be kind of gross. </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">I achieved pedi perfection in 45 minutes.  You can, too!</span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Yes, you are SuperWoman.  And you DESERVE to take a load off.  You\'ve EARNED it!  </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"What if my boss sees me?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Mine actually congratulated me for shaking things up and escaping to bliss.  If your boss is a real bitch, then hide from her.  Under no circumstances wear your f-f-fs back to the office.  If she interrogates you, tell her (or him) that you had your annual gynecological exam.  That should shut her/him up.  </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #000000;\">When will you schedule your lunchtime luxury?   It\'s going to be more than O.K.  Trust me on this one.  </span></p>','Day 7:  Lunchtime Luxury ','','inherit','open','open','','615-revision-27','','','2010-09-22 20:49:38','2010-09-23 03:49:38','',615,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/22/615-revision-27/',0,'revision','',0),(652,1,'2010-09-22 20:50:54','2010-09-23 03:50:54','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/hadesigns/4753128004/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-616\" title=\"lunchtimepedi\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/pedi-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>A couple of months ago I ran into a co-worker who was returning to the office in those flimsy flip-flops they give you after a pedicure.   I asked her why on earth she was wearing them at work.  Because she just enjoyed a pedicure during her lunch hour, that\'s why.  Duh! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Leaving work for a lunchtime pedi would have never occurred to me.  Maybe because I was a teacher for 16 years, and during lunch, teachers scarf down their food in a nanosecond so that they can return to their kiddos.  (If they don\'t have lunch duty.)  Teachers don\'t run out in broad daylight to revel in something luxurious. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>A few weeks later, I witnessed another colleague donning the flimsy flip-flops in the early afternoon.  And after that, I spied one of the MANAGERS strolling around in her f-f-fs.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>That\'s when I finally got the memo.  It\'s O.K. to have a \"Calgon, take me away\" moment in the middle of the workday.  In fact, I highly encourage it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>You may now hear the same inner chatter that I once listened to:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have too much to do!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I need to eat!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?  What if my boss sees me?!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"> </p>\r\n\r\n<p>As your friend who fancies herself an armchair therapist, I lovingly tell you to tell your anxious inner chit-chat to hit the road, sister! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And here\'s living proof why:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">\"But I have too much to do!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Study after study after study proves that taking proper breaks leads to fresher thinking and more efficient work.  </span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I need to eat!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">That\'s what a PB &amp; J at your desk is for.  Or take it with you.  Just make sure that you don\'t drop crumbs in the foot bath.  That would be kind of gross. </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"I only have an hour for lunch!\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">I achieved pedi perfection in 45 minutes.  You can, too!</span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"Spoiling myself in the middle of a workday?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Yes, you are SuperWoman.  And you DESERVE to take a load off.  You\'ve EARNED it!  </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\"What if my boss sees me?\"  <span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\">Mine actually congratulated me for shaking things up and escaping to bliss.  If your boss is a real bitch, then hide from her.  Under no circumstances wear your f-f-fs back to the office.  If your boss interrogates you, tell her (or him) that you had your annual gynecological exam.  That should shut her/him up.  </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><span style=\"color: #ff00ff;\"> </span></span> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #000000;\">When will you schedule your lunchtime luxury?   It\'s going to be more than O.K.  Trust me on this one.  </span></p>','Day 7:  Lunchtime Luxury ','','inherit','open','open','','615-revision-28','','','2010-09-22 20:50:54','2010-09-23 03:50:54','',615,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/09/22/615-revision-28/',0,'revision','',0),(653,1,'2010-09-23 17:44:13','2010-09-24 00:44:13','','OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA','Jump! aka feel the FEAR and do it anyway','inherit','open','open','','olympus-digital-camera-8','','','2010-09-23 17:44:13','2010-09-24 00:44:13','',0,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/P9220178.jpg',0,'attachment','image/jpeg',0),(1345,1,'2010-10-24 20:55:04','2010-10-25 03:55:04','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/10/salcalvinfo.gif\"><img class=\"alignleft size-full wp-image-1326\" title=\"salcalvinfo\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/10/salcalvinfo.gif\" alt=\"\" width=\"1\" height=\"1\" /></a><a href=\"http://www.hairpeace.com/Home.html\" target=\"_blank\"><img class=\"alignleft size-full wp-image-1319\" title=\"salvadorsign\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/10/salvadorsign2.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Most women tend to be fiercely loyal to their hairstylists.  Suggest to a woman that she try a new stylist and a look of horror (tinged with guilt) crosses her face.  A woman would sooner call it quits with her significant other than abandon or cheat on her mane guy/girl. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And, yes, this applies to women who are downright unhappy with their stylist!  They would rather stay in a dysfunctional hair relationship than break away to healthier pastures.  They walk around with a bad haircut and/or color because they don’t want to hurt their hairstylist’s <em>feelings</em>. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I know.  I used to feel that way as well.  Until the day I was forced to break up with “G”.  He left me with no choice.   </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong><span style=\"color: #ff00ff; font-size: large;\">Like all new relationships, it was A Match Made in Heaven.  At first.  </span></strong></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong><span style=\"color: #ff00ff; font-size: large;\"> </span></strong> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>G was my hairstylist from five years ago.  I met him at a party.  At the time, I was displeased with my hair.  My metrosexual poster boy friend recommended a top stylist in Snobbsdale who dyed my tresses a lighter shade of black and razor cut my hair.  The color made me look like I was in dire need of a makeover, and the razor made my hair frizz to a frazzle. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>At the party (hosted by metrosexual poster boy, ironically), G sat down next to me and told me that he loved my dress.  (+10 points)  He then commented that my shoes were to die for.  (+20 points)  We talked incessantly for a while, and it came up in conversation that he was a hairstylist.  I immediately blurted out my hair woes. Don’t we often treat our hairstylists like therapists?  God bless them for listening. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>G calmly assessed the damage.  He explained to me that my hair was too dark and washed me out.  (+50 points)  G was HORRIFIED that someone had taken a razor to the hair of someone of “Mediterranean descent”.  (+100 points)  My hair should be blunt cut to eliminate the frizzle-frazzle!  (+500 points) </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This was destined to be a hair relationship made in Heaven! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I called G that Tuesday to schedule an appointment.  When our big day rolled around, it was everything a girl could want.  I will never forget – he dyed my hair with a color called “Swedish blonde” which sounded ridiculous at first.  Me?  A blonde?  Uh…no.  BUT!!!!  G transformed my hair into shade of golden brunette perfect for my skin tone.  And his blunt cut layers made my hair bouncing and behaving!  (+ points ad infinitum)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was hooked. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>G and I also started to see each other outside of the salon.  (Platonically.  G wasn’t attracted to women.)  He shared my taste for indie restaurants and coffeehouses.  We had so much fun together.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong><span style=\"color: #800080; font-size: large;\">Drama Queens belong on the stage and not in the salon.</span></strong></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Then one day, G was in a mood.  (He had a flair for the dramatic.)  He was stressed out about a guy who dissed him and ticked off at his landlord.  In the midst of relaying his hassles in vivid detail during my haircut, he cut my layers unevenly.  i.e. He screwed up my hair.  Big time.  Every woman’s worst hair nightmare. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Now, I am a forgiving sort.  I am prone to granting second chances.  We are all human.  We all make mistakes.  We should all give one another a little more grace. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So I went back to G for a quick fix. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Which turned out to be not a fix, but another disaster. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong><span style=\"color: #ff0000; font-size: large;\">Breaking Up is Hard to Do </span></strong></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong><span style=\"color: #ff0000; font-size: large;\"> </span></strong></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>In some aspects, breaking up with G was worse than breaking up with a boyfriend.  With a boyfriend, you take time off to heal and ready yourself for another relationship someday.  With your hairstylist, you need to find another one right away.  This is far from ideal when you’re gun-shy and suffering from hair trauma. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Argh. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I went through a few hairstylists after G.  Everyone was good at first, and then they slacked off after a year or so.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was then introduced to a husband/wife cut/color duo who are great.  I absolutely adore them – talented, super smart, and warm.  But our schedules haven’t been meshing lately.  Availability is limited to one Saturday a month, and if I happen to have other plans that Saturday, then I’m SOL.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And this is how I came to cheat on my hairstylist.  I needed an appointment for this past Saturday, and my stylists were unavailable. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600; font-size: large;\"><strong>If you are going to cheat, then reach for the hairstylist to the stars.  </strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /> For months, my friend Britt waxed on about <em>“Salvador”.</em>  The way she talked about him, I envisioned some sort of mythical Hair God. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“<em>Salvador</em> is the best stylist that I’ve ever been to.  He specializes in natural color.”  (+50 points)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“<em>Salvador</em> is the only one in this town who knows how to cut hair.  He cuts the layers blunt so your hair is thick and voluptuous and doesn’t get scraggly as with point cutting.”  (+100 points)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“<em>Salvador</em> has a really cool artsy studio downtown with art and photographs and instruments.”  (I’m a sucker for artsy fartsy.  +50 points.)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“<em>Salvador</em> understands how to cut wavy hair.” (+100 points)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“<em>Salvador</em>!  <em>Salvador</em>!  <em>Salvador</em>!”  (+50 points for reputation of mythical proportion) </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So this past Saturday morning I hauled my cookies downtown for an appointment with <em>Salvador</em>. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Upon entering aforementioned artsy fartsy studio, I was greeted by an overly enthusiastic Golden Retriever named Tahoe.  (+ points ad infinitum)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/10/tahoe2.jpg\"><img title=\"tahoe\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/10/tahoe2.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"97\" height=\"118\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Salvador (with locks of mythical proportion) welcomed me to the salon and chit-chatted away about the morning.  I was up late the night before, slept in, and had just started drinking my coffee, so I slurped it down in a hurry with hopes that I could be a tenth as chipper as Tahoe and ready to talk to another human being.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Classical music played in the background (+10 points) while Salvador sat me in the chair and inquired about what I wanted to do with my hair.  I asked him what he would do given carte blanche. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>All I can remember is “natural color” and I agreed to the rest.  When a mythical Hair God shares his opinion, you really should just take it and get on with your day.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Once I was properly caffeinated, we were able to ramble on about all sorts of common interests from music to guitar to writing to entrepreneurship to topics ad infinitum.  (+1000 points)  I am sure that you will agree with me that NOTHING is more awkward than sitting in a hairstylist’s chair whom you are unable to talk to.  How can they <em>possibly </em>serve as your surrogate therapist/dating coach/sounding board if you can’t carry on a decent conversation??? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Salvador worked his magic throughout conversational turns and many musical shifts (as you ease into the morning the classical needs to be replaced with rock) and then…Voila!  Hair Extraordinaire! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I have already received numerous compliments from “the outside”. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>In this illicit affair, the cheating paid off and no one got hurt.**</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>The most surprising thing about Salvador is that for a mythical Hair God, he is extraordinarily down-to-earth and <em>a really good guy</em>. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Often with myths, we develop high expectations that can’t be adhered to in Real Life.  Salvador will exceed your expectations.  And you’ll have fun in the process.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Go see him and Tahoe.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong><a href=\"http://www.hairpeace.com/\" target=\"_blank\">http://www.hairpeace.com/</a></strong></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong> </strong></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>                           </strong> ****************************************</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>** Please note that I do not condone cheating in other relationships.  But if your hairstylist isn’t cutting it (pun intended), then by all means get out there and sow your wild oats with someone new! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 28:  Have YOU Ever Cheated on Your Hairdresser?','','inherit','open','open','','1307-revision-25','','','2010-10-24 20:55:04','2010-10-25 03:55:04','',1307,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/10/24/1307-revision-25/',0,'revision','',0),(1349,1,'2010-10-24 20:57:55','2010-10-25 03:57:55','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/10/salcalvinfo.gif\"><img class=\"alignleft size-full wp-image-1326\" title=\"salcalvinfo\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/10/salcalvinfo.gif\" alt=\"\" width=\"1\" height=\"1\" /></a><a href=\"http://www.hairpeace.com/Home.html\" target=\"_blank\"><img class=\"alignleft size-full wp-image-1319\" title=\"salvadorsign\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/10/salvadorsign2.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a></p>\r\n<p>Most women tend to be fiercely loyal to their hairstylists.  Suggest to a woman that she try a new stylist and a look of horror (tinged with guilt) crosses her face.  A woman would sooner call it quits with her significant other than abandon or cheat on her mane guy/girl. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>And, yes, this applies to women who are downright unhappy with their stylist!  They would rather stay in a dysfunctional hair relationship than break away to healthier pastures.  They walk around with a bad haircut and/or color because they don’t want to hurt their hairstylist’s <em>feelings</em>. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>I know.  I used to feel that way as well.  Until the day I was forced to break up with “G”.  He left me with no choice.   </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><strong><span style=\"color: #ff00ff; font-size: large;\">Like all new relationships, it was A Match Made in Heaven.  At first.  </span></strong></p>\r\n<p><strong><span style=\"color: #ff00ff; font-size: large;\"> </span></strong> </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>G was my hairstylist from five years ago.  I met him at a party.  At the time, I was displeased with my hair.  My metrosexual poster boy friend recommended a top stylist in Snobbsdale who dyed my tresses a lighter shade of black and razor cut my hair.  The color made me look like I was in dire need of a makeover, and the razor made my hair frizz to a frazzle. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>At the party (hosted by metrosexual poster boy, ironically), G sat down next to me and told me that he loved my dress.  (+10 points)  He then commented that my shoes were to die for.  (+20 points)  We talked incessantly for a while, and it came up in conversation that he was a hairstylist.  I immediately blurted out my hair woes. Don’t we often treat our hairstylists like therapists?  God bless them for listening. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>G calmly assessed the damage.  He explained to me that my hair was too dark and washed me out.  (+50 points)  G was HORRIFIED that someone had taken a razor to the hair of someone of “Mediterranean descent”.  (+100 points)  My hair should be blunt cut to eliminate the frizzle-frazzle!  (+500 points) </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>This was destined to be a hair relationship made in Heaven! </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>I called G that Tuesday to schedule an appointment.  When our big day rolled around, it was everything a girl could want.  I will never forget – he dyed my hair with a color called “Swedish blonde” which sounded ridiculous at first.  Me?  A blonde?  Uh…no.  BUT!!!!  G transformed my hair into shade of golden brunette perfect for my skin tone.  And his blunt cut layers made my hair bouncing and behaving!  (+ points ad infinitum)</p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>I was hooked. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>G and I also started to see each other outside of the salon.  (Platonically.  G wasn’t attracted to women.)  He shared my taste for indie restaurants and coffeehouses.  We had so much fun together.  </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><strong><span style=\"color: #800080; font-size: large;\">Drama Queens belong on the stage and not in the salon.</span></strong></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Then one day, G was in a mood.  (He had a flair for the dramatic.)  He was stressed out about a guy who dissed him and ticked off at his landlord.  In the midst of relaying his hassles in vivid detail during my haircut, he cut my layers unevenly.  i.e. He screwed up my hair.  Big time.  Every woman’s worst hair nightmare. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Now, I am a forgiving sort.  I am prone to granting second chances.  We are all human.  We all make mistakes.  We should all give one another a little more grace. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>So I went back to G for a quick fix. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Which turned out to be not a fix, but another disaster. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><strong><span style=\"color: #ff0000; font-size: large;\">Breaking Up is Hard to Do </span></strong></p>\r\n<p><strong><span style=\"color: #ff0000; font-size: large;\"> </span></strong></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>In some aspects, breaking up with G was worse than breaking up with a boyfriend.  With a boyfriend, you take time off to heal and ready yourself for another relationship someday.  With your hairstylist, you need to find another one right away.  This is far from ideal when you’re gun-shy and suffering from hair trauma. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Argh. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>I went through a few hairstylists after G.  Everyone was good at first, and then they slacked off after a year or so.</p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>I was then introduced to a husband/wife cut/color duo who are great.  I absolutely adore them – talented, super smart, and warm.  But our schedules haven’t been meshing lately.  Availability is limited to one Saturday a month, and if I happen to have other plans that Saturday, then I’m SOL.</p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>And this is how I came to cheat on my hairstylist.  I needed an appointment for this past Saturday, and my stylists were unavailable. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600; font-size: large;\"><strong>If you are going to cheat, then reach for the hairstylist to the stars.  </strong></span></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /> For months, my friend Britt waxed on about <em>“Salvador”.</em>  The way she talked about him, I envisioned some sort of mythical Hair God. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>“<em>Salvador</em> is the best stylist that I’ve ever been to.  He specializes in natural color.”  (+50 points)</p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>“<em>Salvador</em> is the only one in this town who knows how to cut hair.  He cuts the layers blunt so your hair is thick and voluptuous and doesn’t get scraggly as with point cutting.”  (+100 points)</p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>“<em>Salvador</em> has a really cool artsy studio downtown with art and photographs and instruments.”  (I’m a sucker for artsy fartsy.  +50 points.)</p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>“<em>Salvador</em> understands how to cut wavy hair.” (+100 points)</p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>“<em>Salvador</em>!  <em>Salvador</em>!  <em>Salvador</em>!”  (+50 points for reputation of mythical proportion) </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>So this past Saturday morning I hauled my cookies downtown for an appointment with <em>Salvador</em>. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Upon entering aforementioned artsy fartsy studio, I was greeted by an overly enthusiastic Golden Retriever named Tahoe.  (+ points ad infinitum)</p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.hairpeace.com\" target=\"_blank\"><img title=\"tahoe\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/10/tahoe2.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"97\" height=\"118\" /></a></p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Salvador (with locks of mythical proportion) welcomed me to the salon and chit-chatted away about the morning.  I was up late the night before, slept in, and had just started drinking my coffee, so I slurped it down in a hurry with hopes that I could be a tenth as chipper as Tahoe and ready to talk to another human being.</p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Classical music played in the background (+10 points) while Salvador sat me in the chair and inquired about what I wanted to do with my hair.  I asked him what he would do given carte blanche. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>All I can remember is “natural color” and I agreed to the rest.  When a mythical Hair God shares his opinion, you really should just take it and get on with your day.</p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Once I was properly caffeinated, we were able to ramble on about all sorts of common interests from music to guitar to writing to entrepreneurship to topics ad infinitum.  (+1000 points)  I am sure that you will agree with me that NOTHING is more awkward than sitting in a hairstylist’s chair whom you are unable to talk to.  How can they <em>possibly </em>serve as your surrogate therapist/dating coach/sounding board if you can’t carry on a decent conversation??? </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Salvador worked his magic throughout conversational turns and many musical shifts (as you ease into the morning the classical needs to be replaced with rock) and then…Voila!  Hair Extraordinaire! </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>I have already received numerous compliments from “the outside”. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>In this illicit affair, the cheating paid off and no one got hurt.**</p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>The most surprising thing about Salvador is that for a mythical Hair God, he is extraordinarily down-to-earth and <em>a really good guy</em>. </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Often with myths, we develop high expectations that can’t be adhered to in Real Life.  Salvador will exceed your expectations.  And you’ll have fun in the process.</p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>Go see him and Tahoe.  </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.hairpeace.com/\" target=\"_blank\"><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><strong>http://www.hairpeace.com/</strong></span></a></p>\r\n<p><strong> </strong></p>\r\n<p><strong>                           </strong> ****************************************</p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n<p>** Please note that I do not condone cheating in other relationships.  But if your hairstylist isn’t cutting it (pun intended), then by all means get out there and sow your wild oats with someone new! </p>\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n','Day 28:  Have YOU Ever Cheated on Your Hairdresser?','','inherit','open','open','','1307-revision-29','','','2010-10-24 20:57:55','2010-10-25 03:57:55','',1307,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/10/24/1307-revision-29/',0,'revision','',0);
