Dear Mr. Thatcher,

This is an actual letter from an Austin woman sent to American company Proctor and Gamble regarding their feminine products. She really gets rolling after the first paragraph. It’s PC Magazine’s 2007 editors’ choice for best webmail-award-winning letter.

Dear Mr. Thatcher,
I have been a loyal user of your ‘Always’ maxi pads for over 20 years and I appreciate many of their features. Why, without the LeakGuard Core or Dri-Weave absorbency, I’d probably never go horseback riding or salsa dancing, and I’d certainly steer clear of running up and down the beach in tight, white shorts. But my favorite feature has to be your revolutionary Flexi-Wings. Kudos on being the only company smart enough to realize how crucial it is that maxi pads be aerodynamic. I can’t tell you how safe and secure I feel each month knowing there’s a little F-16 in my pants.

Have you ever had a menstrual period, Mr. Thatcher? Ever suffered from ‘the curse’? I’m guessing you haven’t. Well, my time of the month is starting right now. As I type, I can already feel hormonal forces violently surging through my body. Just a few minutes from now, my body will adjust and I’ll be transformed into what my husband likes to call ‘an inbred hillbilly with knife skills.’ Isn’t the human body amazing?

As Brand Manager in the Feminine-Hygiene Division, you’ve no doubt seen quite a bit of research on what exactly happens during your customer’s monthly visits from ‘Aunt Flo’. Therefore, you must know about the bloating, puffiness, and cramping we endure, and about our intense mood swings, crying jags, and out-of-control behavior. You surely realize it’s a tough time for most women. In fact, only last week, my friend Jennifer fought the viole nt urge to shove her boyfriend’s testicles into a George Foreman Grill just because he told her he thought Grey’s Anatomy was written by drunken chimps. Crazy!

The point is, sir, you of all people must realize that America is just crawling with homicidal maniacs in Capri pants… Which brings me to the reason for my letter. Last month, while in the throes of cramping so painful I wanted to reach inside my body and yank out my uterus, I opened an Always maxi-pad, and there, printed on the adhesive backing, were these words: ‘Have a Happy Period.’

Are you f———kidding me? What I mean is, does any part of your tiny middle-manager brain really think happiness – actual smiling, laughing happiness, is possible during a menstrual period? Did anything mentioned above sound the least bit pleasurable? Well, did it, James? FYI, unless you’re some kind of sick S&M freak, there will never be anything ‘happy’ about a day in which you have to jack yourself up on Motrin and Kahlua and lock yourself in your house just so you don’t march down to the local Walgreen’s armed with a hunting rifle and a sketchy plan to end your life in a blaze of glory.

For the love of God, pull your head out, man! If you have to slap a moronic message on a maxi pad, wouldn’t it make more sense to say something that’s actually pertinent, like ‘Put down the Hammer’ or ‘Vehicular Manslaughter is Wrong’, or are you just picking on us?

Sir, please inform your Accounting Department that, effective immediately, there will be an $8 drop in monthly profits, for I have chosen to take my maxi-pad business elsewhere. And though I will certainly miss your Flex-Wings, I will not for one minute miss your brand of condescending bullshit. And that’s a promise I will keep.

Always. . .
Wendi Aarons
Austin , TX

Sean

I had the pleasure of sitting in on a meeting between my son Sean and one of his recording clients while I was visiting last month.

The client came to him with a dozen or so songs about the parent/child experience – stuff like sharing and tantrums – that were catchy and clever, but all he had was the basic melodic structure and some thoughts about how they might sound.

Sean helped him flesh them out into a product that is more densely packed with great musical ideas than any album I’ve ever heard.

Sean brings an astounding level of creativity and good musical taste to these collaborative efforts while respecting the integrity of the original concept and the unique personalities of the artists. I’m sure he would be embarrassed and maybe a little disturbed to be called a genius, but that’s the only name I can come up with for this kind of brilliance.

Here’s his business card (front and back).

Did I mention I hate snakes?

This guy turned up in our driveway this morning. He was about 6 inches long. I first thought he might be a copperhead, but the markings don’t match any copperhead photos I see online. So he’s a mystery snake who has been banished back into the woods.

Maria's research suggests it's an Eastern Hognose snake. That's what Stan and Joy Trauth, the foremost reptile experts in the state say.

The eye – 24 hours later

The eyedrops are working. Much less redness and the pain is gone.

Ouch

I’m just glad this didn’t happen when I was on the road.
I woke up Sunday morning with painful inflammation in my right eye. It was worse this morning, so I went to my ophthalmologist and got a prescription for tobramycin and dexamethasone opthalmic suspension, which is startlingly expensive, even at the Walmart pharmacy. I’m supposed to apply two drops four times daily for a week.
This is what I get for pulling my contact lenses out in the middle of the night without washing my hands first. Looks like I won’t be wearing contacts for awhile.
Sorry about the creepy picture.

The grass is cut

I am no longer embarrassed by my lawn.

I got out on the mower about 10 a.m. before the temperature broke into the 90s and cut the grass. All of the grass.

Some of it was still sufficiently damp with dew that it tried to clog the mower, but I soldiered on. I finished about 12:30 p.m. By that time, the temperature was 92 and the heat index was 99.

So there.

Report from the jungle

Our yard looks like a jungle and I have no idea when I’m going to be able to mow it.

Why?

Because it’s oppressively, insanely hot. Even for a riding mower. The heat index right now – 6:37 p.m. – is 103. It’s going to 120 tomorrow and 121 Sunday.

And, yes, it’s cooler in the morning, but the grass is wet with dew and will choke the lawn mower. By the time it dries out, the heat index us back up into the danger zone. And, of course, the heat and humidity just make the grass grow that much faster.

 

Issued by The National Weather Service
Memphis, TN
3:29 pm CDT, Fri., Jul. 30, 2010

A HEAT ADVISORY REMAINS IN EFFECT UNTIL 8 PM CDT THIS EVENING.

* MAXIMUM HEAT INDEX READINGS BETWEEN 105 AND 108 DEGREES ARE EXPECTED THROUGH EARLY THIS EVENING.

* THE HIGHEST HEAT INDEX READINGS WILL OCCUR THROUGH 8 PM CDT.

* HEAT INDEX READINGS OF 105 DEGREES OR GREATER CAN BE DANGEROUS IF THE PROPER PRECAUTIONS ARE NOT TAKEN. YOUNG CHILDREN... ELDERLY PEOPLE... AND THOSE WITH ILLNESSES OR HEART CONDITIONS ARE MOST AT RISK.

PRECAUTIONARY/PREPAREDNESS ACTIONS...

A HEAT ADVISORY MEANS THAT A PERIOD OF HOT TEMPERATURES IS EXPECTED. THE COMBINATION OF HOT TEMPERATURES AND HIGH HUMIDITY WILL COMBINE TO CREATE A SITUATION IN WHICH HEAT ILLNESSES ARE POSSIBLE. DRINK PLENTY OF FLUIDS... STAY IN AN AIR-CONDITIONED ROOM... STAY OUT OF THE SUN... AND CHECK UP ON RELATIVES AND NEIGHBORS.

&&

More Information

... DANGEROUS HEAT WILL CONTINUE ACROSS MOST OF THE MIDSOUTH...

.A COMBINATION OF VERY HIGH HUMIDITY AND TEMPERATURES IN THE MIDDLE 90S WILL CONTINUE TO PRODUCE DANGEROUS HEAT INDEX READINGS ACROSS MUCH OF THE MIDSOUTH INTO EARLY THIS EVENING.

2010 Midlife Crisis Tour Wrap-up

I read the weather radar correctly yesterday afternoon and caught only a few sprinkles as I rode the last 100 miles or so, clipping the back edge of a line of pop-up storms crawling east across northeast Arkansas.

I made my final gas stop at Bill’s Fresh Market on the northside of Jonesboro and rolled into my garage about 5:45 p.m.

I had a great time traveling, rallying, visiting my sons and their families, riding my favorite road, and catching up with a longtime friend.

Here are the stats:

• Total miles: 5,414
• Days: 17
• Gas cost: $385.53
• Gallons used: 131.78
• MPG: 41.1
• Lodging cost: $352.88
• Cost/Day: $50.14
• Cost/Mile: 16 cents
• Maintenance costs: $113.97
• Total trip cost (not counting food and incidental purchases): $852.38

Remember that right side combination switch that cost me a little less than $500 back on July 9? It gave me a major Maalox moment last Monday morning when my bike wouldn’t start on the first 6-7 starter button presses in Steve’s garage in Las Vegas. Happily, the engine fired on the first push every time after that.

But, I noticed yesterday afternoon that my right turn signal wouldn’t turn on most of the time and when I turned on the left turn signal, I couldn’t cancel it most of the time and it just had to time out by itself. BMW K-bikes have the right turn signal button on the right combination switch and the left turn signal button on the left combination switch. The button that cancels the turn signals is on the right combination switch. So everything that was malfunctioning was controlled by the right combination switch. Clearly, they gave me a faulty switch. Fortunately, BMW parts are warranteed, so my bike will make a return trip to Grass Roots BMW Motorcycles in Cape Girardeau, Mo. someday soon for yet another right combination switch.

LATER; I just talked with Pat at Grass Roots. He's ordering a new right combination switch which should arrive next week. He'll call when he has it in hand and we'll schedule a time to switch the switch.

The last leg of the trip

I’m stopped for lunch at the Subway in Vilonia, Ark. and listening to the recitation of health violations at an employees’ meeting. There were a lot of them, but nothing lethal. They’re on probation for three months.
I decided to stop here for lunch because I was overtaking a small thunderstorm and figured it was a convenient way to let the storm get out of my path. Plus, now that I have the netbook fired up, I can see the Weather Channel radar and know when it’s safe to go.
I spent a pleasant evening and night last night at the home of Sue Crumbo, a lifelong friend and high school classmate from Delphi, Ind. at her home in Edmond, just north of Oklahoma City. She and her boyfriend Guy feted me grandly with a huge steak and lots of beer. I slept like a rock until Sue tapped on my door at 6:30 a.m.
She served up a cheese omelette, toast and coffee and we chatted until 8:30 or so. The rush hour over, I loaded up and headed for home.
It was great to see Sue. I haven’t seen her since our 40th class reunion in 2003.

Good morning, sunshine

ALBUQUERQUE, N.M. - So why the hell am I blogging and having a second cup of coffee in my motel room instead of riding?
I am on the west side of Albuquerque, which means I have to ride through an unfamiliar city during morning rush hour with the blinding light of the rising sun in my eyes. I can only control one of those variables, so I’m waiting for the sun to get a little higher in the sky.
I have about 550 miles to ride today – from here to the home of lifelong friend Sue Crumbo in Edmond, Okla. It involves about 9 hours of riding time, plus maybe two hours off the bike for gas and food, plus an hour lost to a time change, so I expect to get there around sundown. This could be completely off, of course, in the event of rain, construction, or any number of other unknowns. The bottom line is that it’s gonna be another long-ass day on the superslab.
Which brings me to another point. You can’t pour a cup of coffee out of those goddamned cheap in-room coffee carafes without spilling. It’s a design defect that fails to take into account the Coandă effect – the tendency of a fluid to be attracted to a nearby surface. (The principle was named after Romanian aerodynamics pioneer Henri Coandă, who was the first to recognize the practical application of the phenomenon in aircraft development.) It’s the hallmark of poorly designed pouring containers and it’s particularly annoying in a coffee carafe.

600 miles from Las Vegas to Albuquerque

ALBUQUERQUE, NM - I was on the road about 5 a.m. today, keen to gain altitude into Arizona before the heat of the day. It was about 92 when I left Steve and Nicky’s house in Vegas and that was the hottest temperature I experienced all day. I actually felt a few sprinkles as I rode through the pre-dawn darkness in Las Vegas.
My new starter button refused to work for the first several presses this morning, giving rise to feelings of despair. It finally fired and continued to fire on the first press the rest of the day, but it’s alarming to say the least, since I spent almost $500 to replace one that was doing the same thing. The audio extension cord I use to connect my in-ear monitors with the GPS broke and I lost my GPS sunshade, all in the space of a few minutes. I was gratified, however, to see the oil level right where it’s supposed to be when I knelt in Steve’s garage and peered at it.
Riding into the rising sun is a miserable experience, especially in unfamiliar territory. I made my way across Hoover Dam and down to Kingman where I picked up I-40 which I will follow all the way to Little Rock.
I’ve been neglecting my National Parks Passport on this trip, but recalled that Petrified Forest National Park is near the Interstate. Turns out it’s right next to the Interstate and I was able to go to the visitors center without paying admission to the park and got four stamps for my passport, including Petrified Forest, Painted Desert, Historic U.S. 66 and Painted Desert Inn.
I gassed in Vegas, Kingman, Flagstaff, Gallup and Albuquerque today. In Gallup, I found a McDonald’s with Wifi and secured a room at an Econo Lodge in Albuquerque. It’s kinda shabby, but I’m tired and I don’t care.
I got sprinkled on several times this afternoon as monsoonal showers popped up over the high desert. A rainbow greeted me as I rode into Albuquerque.

Right on, Morgan Freeman!

Lisa tries out grandpa’s bike

A tourist in Vegas

Steve gave me the grand tour of Las Vegas and Red Rocks Canyon today. We stopped at the Bellagio to check out the Fontana Showroom where he used to play and to catch the fountain show.

Viva Las Vegas

LAS VEGAS – I rolled out of the motel parking lot a little after 7 a.m. in gray chilly weather, but was soon in bright sunlight as I rode east and up the mountainside toward U.S. 101.

I gassed on the east side of Paso Robles, but forgot to get the receipt and record my mileage, so I have to reconstruct it for my travel log. I remember the gas was $3.29/gallon and I was able to get the mileage reading since I reset my trip meter at every fill-up. Now all I have to do is wait for the charge to clear on my online bank site and I can calculate the amount of gas.

I stopped to shed my windstopper pullover somewhere between Paso Robles and I-5, paused at the Lost Hills exit for a McDonald’s parfait and coffee, bought 1.5 liters of Smart Water (water + electrolytes) for my Camelbak, and headed on down the road.

I gassed again at a no-name gas station in downtown Tehachapi that had the filthiest restroom I’ve seen in years. I thought about photographing the toilet, but this blog has to have some standards.

Once over the pass, I was into serious heat. I gassed again at Barstow and rode back into the oven that is I-15 at this time of year. The weather

feature of my Garmin Zumo 550 told me it was 106 when I finally reached Las Vegas. Garmin directed me to Steve and Nicky’s house and I rang the doorbell just as Maria called on my cell phone. Lisa opened the door and my day’s ride was over.

After several glasses of iced tea and some chips and salsa, I took a shower and about an hour’s nap.

Nicky drove Lisa and me down to the Fremont Street Experience where Steve was playing for an Elvis impersonator contest.

Here’s a shot of him and Lisa during a break in the action.

 

Elephant seals

SAN SIMEON, Calif. - I had dinner tonight at the Sunset Grill.

Not the one from the Don Henley song. The one attached to the San Simeon Motel 6. The food is overpriced and the service is so indifferent as to cause me to omit the tip. I ate there because I was too lazy to get on the bike and go find decent food at a reasonable price. Serves me right.

I spent most of my time there poring over The Cambrian, the local paper published in Cambria and serving the north coast of San Luis Obispo County.

It reads like any other local weekly paper. Except they have an Elephant Seal News column.

Elephant seals are a big deal here. They haul out on the beaches and tourists flock to stare at them. Maria and I spent part of an afternoon photographing them back in July of 2002.

Columnist Joan Crowder is a volunteer docent for Central Coast Friends of the Elephant Seal and she devotes about 12 column inches this week to a gaffe committed by some hack writing for an airline magazine. The writer opined that a tourist traveling down California Highway 1 might want to “finish the day by communing with walruses at the Hearst Castle.”

Well, as any halfway bright person knows, there are no walruses here. Those big animals on the beach are elephant seals. And there is no way in hell any of them are going to haul their 3 ton bodies five miles inland and up the 1,600 foot high hill where newspaper magnate William Randolph Hearst built his absurdly lavish mansion that was the inspiration for Citizen Kane’s Xanadu.

I hope the airline magazine didn’t pay much for that piece of fluff.

An afternoon on my favorite road

SAN SIMEON, Calif. - I waited until noon to head for the coast and still was in fog all the way to Nepenthe. I took so long to clear the room that my magnetic room key timed out and I had to get it reset to get my helmet and jacket out of the room.
I felt tight and tense all afternoon and never did relax into the ride like I wanted. Even so, it was fun.
I had a mocha and a pastry at the Cafe Kevah, chatted with a Canadian MotoGP fan and a guy from Arizona and his son on a Harley. “Did you ride all the way from Arkansas?” the kid asked. “Well… yeah,” I said.
The massive bell that’s been a feature of the Phoenix for as long as I can remember remains unsold at $3,595 but the price tag has been amended to say, “1/2 price if you can haul it away yourself.” At $1,797.50, it’s almost a bargain.
I pulled over at the turnoff just south of the Big Creek Bridge to take pictures and enjoy one of the best views on the road. While I was there, a father and son on BMWs rode in. The son had just broken the clutch cable on his red K75S and they asked if I had a set of vise grips. Sorry, don’t carry them. I suspect they had to call for road service. While you can shift a motorcycle without a clutch, it would be a nightmare to try it on that road.
As I expected, there was a steady stream of northbound sportbikes and not much southbound traffic. The winter storms appear to have beaten up several parts of the PCH south of Lucia. I encountered three places where traffic narrowed down to one lane and was regulated by stop lights. The southernmost one advised motorists to “Expect 5 minute delays.”
I spent the last 12 miles or so behind a slow moving truck, descending at last to Ragged Point where I treated myself to the first chocolate malt I’ve had in years.
The rest of the ride was coastal sweepers as I cruised on down to San Simeon and the Motel 6.
I just consulted my GPS and find that it’s supposedly a 6 hour and 25 minute ride from here to Steve’s place in Las Vegas. It’s also supposed to hit 111 there tomorrow.

Frank

I was reviewing my pictures this morning and found this one in the series that Maria shot just before I left on the morning of July 11.

That’s Frank, the free-range neighborhood dog who belongs to everyone and no one. He’s wonderfully friendly. Notice the blur of his wagging tail.

Burning time, burning fog

MONTEREY, Calif. - It’s 8:30 a.m. and I’ve been up since 6, but I’m not heading down the coast for a few hours.
Why? Because of the Marine Layer. That’s ocean fog to everyone who lives more than 50 miles inland. It shrouds the coast much of the day this time of year. If I want to ride in sunshine, I have to wait for it to burn off and that may not happen until noon in some places. The first time I visited the Big Sur coast, back in July, 1986, I rode up from Burbank on a Sunday morning. I made the whole ride without seeing the sun. The road blew my mind anyway. When I came back a day or two later, I was absolutely enchanted. And I still am.
So I’m sitting here in Room 120 of the Monterey Motel 6 updating my trip log and sipping free coffee from the office. Upon reflection, it’s about the same number of steps from my room to the office as it is from my upstairs office to the coffee pot in our kitchen. But at least I have Sweet & Low at home. All they have here is sugar and even with two packets, the coffee tastes nasty.
I see that I’ve covered 3,240 miles since I left home on July 11. I’ll probably do another 2k by the time I get home. Who knows, I may actually earn a 10k award for 2010 from the Indianapolis BMW Club. It would be my 14th overall, but my first since 2004.
Today’s mileage will be low, but the smileage will be high, since I’m riding down my favorite road. My destination for today is less than 100 road miles from here -  San Simeon. There’s a very nice motel there where I can get a good night’s sleep. I’ll need it on Saturday because that’s when I take on the heat of the Central Valley and the Mojave Desert on a 430-mile ride to Las Vegas to see Steve, Nicky and Lisa. I’ve done the Mojave in July before, back in 2002 when I rode my old ‘91 K100RS from Kingman, Ariz. to Monterey to meet Maria for a few days of California fun. I remember it was pretty damned hot and I drained my Camelbak twice. I have a bigger Camelbak this time and now I wish I’d bought one of those water-cooled hot weather vests they were selling at the rally.

Monterey!

MONTEREY, Calif. – I’m back to one of my favorite places in the whole world – the Monterey Peninsula and the PCH south.

It was reasonably warm when I left Redding this morning and I realized I needed to get to the coast before it got insanely hot in the Central Valley. Gassing on the south side of Redding, I confirmed what I had suspected, since my left in-ear monitor worked fine yesterday. The problem is in the right-angle connector between my extension wire and the GPS unit. That’s a huge relief since I initially worried that I was doomed to ride the rest of the way home with only the right speaker functioning.

Garmin routed me around the east and south side of the San Francisco Bay area, which involved several miles on I-680. I crept along for about two miles at one point near Sunol where three lanes narrowed to two for construction. Then, just north of Gilroy on U.S. 101, a bimbo in a red car tried to merge with me in the far left lane. I jammed on the brakes just in time and she waved a half-hearted apology.

Turning west toward the Monterey Peninsula from U.S. 101, I began to get long-forgotten coastal scents of eucalyptus, flowers, the sea, and other stuff that filled my helmet with intoxication.

Garmin led me to my motel which turns out to be across the street from one of the places Maria and I stayed eight years ago. I arrived about 1 p.m., checked in, dumped the contents of my saddlebags in my room, gassed and headed for Big Sur and Nepenthe, my favorite eatery on the coast.

I chatted with a kid from Oklahoma on a Suzuki who told me MotoGP is this weekend at Laguna Seca, which explains the hundreds of sportbikes all over the place.

It was overcast and foggy as I rode past Carmel Highlands, but the sun broke through as I neared Nepenthe. I found a parking space and adjourned to the Cafe Kevah for a mocha latte and a breakfast burrito. I tried to soak up the ambiance, but I think I was still too jangled from the road to relax into the Nepenthe atmosphere. There was a family with a screaming baby sitting at the next table, which didn’t help. I gave Maria a call to gloat about where I was, but couldn’t send a photo because there’s no Sprint data service down there.

I went up to the main restaurant for some photos and did a quick sweep through the Phoenix gift shop, but didn’t see anything I couldn’t live without. So I bought a 40 cent postcard, saddled up and headed on south to the Coast Gallery.

I bought a cup of potent dark roast coffee and settled into a seat on the Coast Gallery upper deck to watch the traffic.

There was no shortage of northbound sportbike riders thrashing their bikes through the curves, interspersed with slower traffic.

I was in no mood to race, so I timed my return to the road to put me behind a slug of slow moving traffic. Even so, I was passed by an SUV and a half-dozen squids, all on double yellow.

I’d forgotten how horrible northbound rush hour traffic can be approaching Carmel and Monterey and I crawled along for about 15 minutes before I told Garmin to find me an alternate route to the motel. It did and I’m sure I saved myself another 10 minutes. I considered joining the riders who were lane-splitting, but chose not to risk it with the oversize saddlebags on the bike.

Maria was home and ready for a Skype conversation. Skype is coming in very handy on this trip and I think it’s making my absence a little less troubling for Maria. I know I enjoy our conversations.

Now, I think I’m going to pull the tankbag and GPS off of the bike and secure it for the night and walk across the street to Denny’s for dinner. I probably should ride down to Fisherman’s Wharf for some real Monterey cuisine, but I’m tired and don’t want to bother.