Tuesday, October 28, 2008


Cynthia had a health crisis last Wednesday that necessitated admission to a local hospital. The good news is everything's going to be fine. Because of the suddenness of her arrival no beds were immediately available so we had to begin the process in ER.

Real life ER sure wasn't much like the TV shows. For starters the cast, er, the employees, weren't cute; they were dumpy-looking and unattractive. Cynthia was waiting for McDreamy to walk in. Instead she got McDorky.

The doc wandered in looking at her chart and mumbling to himself. She asked him his name. He replied, "They do all kinds of weird tests around here." Dude obviously was a low performer in his "Bedside Manner Skills" course in med school. Dr. ? completed his cameo appearance muttering something else about weird tests and exited, never to be seen again.

I could have sworn dinosaurs were extinct, but a Snore-asaurus had apparently been captured and was being contained right on the other side of the curtain. Its frightening roar almost shook the walls. Actually it was an obese guy from Australia asleep in the next bed.

A nurse came in and told him to roll over. We heard her say, "Now if this turns blue there's blood in your stool. O-o-o-h-h-h----it's really turning blue!" Yikes.

Next to him was a zonked-out teenager in a school uniform sitting in a wheelchair and----staring. Her mom said something about overdosing on Benedryl. In the hall was a guy on a gurney who would occasionally sit up, hit on a passing nurse, then lie back down.

Geez, where was the team of shouting doctors running with a gurney carrying a shotgun blast victim? The maniacal patient that had to be physically restrained? The dramatic music?? These patients were so lame!!

Finally Cynthia's room was ready. At last, some peace and quiet. Um, except for her 84 year old roommate, who kept telling us shedidn'tknowwhyshewastheretheyhadn'tfedheranythingalldayshehopedhercarbatterywasn'tgoingtogodeadshedidn'twantherdaughter toknowshewasinthehospital-----


Saturday, October 18, 2008


Friday night in Vegas. Most folks are having a few drinks, grabbing some dinner, maybe playing the slots. What are we doing? Going to yoga class. Do the Staton's know how to party, or what?

Actually this was the first time we'd attended on Friday night, but our off days changed last week and we've kind of been out of kilter adjusting (btw, apologies for no post last week---when your "Monday" is now Thursday, trust me, it's a bit screwy). So we didn't know who the teacher was supposed to be, but Susie announced herself as a substitute for tonight. With a German accent.

Uh, oh. Here's a shoutout to you, Adrian--you can already guess where this is going. She immediately started to say stuff like "punishment" and "doing crocodiles." We didn't even know what that second one was but the mental image wasn't particularly attractive. It turns out they're the yoga equivalent of pushups. I'm not a big fan of the treadmill, yet I found myself thinking that an hour of that might be paradise compared to what Susie had in store.

As it turned out she was just screwing with us. She led a very pleasant class and was funny as hell. Maybe she is a ball-buster with her regular students though because she said they called her "The Yoga Nazi"---among other things. She constantly threatened us if we were "sloppy," "lazy," or worst of all, "cheating," but only in jest.

When we were doing a Cobra pose she claimed that among other things it was good for your gall bladder. Then she paused and said, "Wow, I had my gall bladder removed two months ago tomorrow. Guess I didn't do enough Cobras!" Here we were trying to be serious and collapsing on the floor with laughter instead.

Later we were doing a pose requiring you to tightly clench your butt cheeks (as I'm writing I realize that if you aren't familiar with yoga postures this all sounds pretty bizarre. Anyway---). She told us to envision having a quarter in our crack and squeezing it hard enough make an imprint (now it's getting kinky--this post isn't going to gain many yoga converts, I'm afraid). Then she warned, "I'll be sending the imprint inspector around at the end of class to check your quarters!," and once again we all "cracked" up.

At the end you always do a guided meditation while lying on the floor with your eyes closed. Susie suggested imagining something blue because that's the color of relaxation. Living here I immediately thought of those Blue Man Group dudes but that didn't seem right. Then I thought of the friggin' Smurfs of all things. The Smurfs?? The Smurfs?? Holy cow, how about a damn sky with a palm tree in front of it! I'M NOT FEELING TOO RELAXED HERE!!!

You know, Susie said she had been teaching yoga here in Vegas for 12 years and I'm guessing she didn't get right off the plane from Germany back then and hustle to her first class. Total command of the language but she's still got that heavy accent. Then I was thinking about Ah-nold--same thing. What is it with these Teutonic folks? And does that voice in their head have an accent too? How about when they dream? H-m-m-m-m--------

Sunday, October 5, 2008


I tried this recipe with great trepidation but it has become a favorite in the Staton household (we had it just last night in fact). Easy & excellent. You'll love it!!

2 servings

1 heart of romaine, sliced lengthwise
1/8 cup of mayonnaise
1/8 cup red wine vinegar
2 garlic cloves
1/2 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1/4 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
dash of Tabasco
1/4 cup vegetable oil
salt and fresh ground pepper
shaved Parmesan cheese

Light a grill. In a mini food processor blend all the ingredients except the oil. Then gradually add oil until the dressing is creamy.

Brush the hearts of romaine with oil and place on grill, flat side down. Turn once or twice until lightly charred but still crisp--about 3 minutes.

Spread half the dressing across salad plates. Arrange the grilled hearts of romaine on top and drizzle with the remaining dressing. Garnish with cheese shavings.