March 21, 2000 (#28), (and before ...)

My sedated scofflaws,

Life has been a bit calmer of late. When last we fermented our grains, it was pre-millennium fuss and muss.

Or perhaps mostly fuss, little muss. The most interesting tale that I can remember is my sweet sister received two baccarat millennium champagne goblets for test driving some auto car. Ridiculous.

I spent a lovely turn of the millennium at home preparing for a party. Abattoir refused to celebrate at any time other than 6 o'clock. Well my little po-tweets, I thought, "How lovely! We can start at 6 and continue..." But no. You see Belgium was six hours ahead and his blood was passing through the millennium along with his countrymen. However, he promptly toddled off to bed at 6:30 and I was left with a pitcher full o' fun by myself. So by the time the guests arrived I already had my shoes artfully arranged as a mod chapeau with my hose as a dramatic trailing veil. Luckily guests are so well-behaved and everyone began using their clothing odds and ends as accessories. I'm not sure whether anyone made it to champagne or not. I did have so many dirty dishes though and someone must have been desperate for a costume change as I found all my lingerie in complete disarray.

I can't say I'm very proud of that.

January saw a brief trip to Seattle to visit another sister dropping down from Alaska. Yes she does enjoy living there. I spent much of my moist time there raiding the mini bar. Now I'm no stranger to mini bars. But, a split of red wine, sweet alyssums, a SPLIT of a somewhat mediocre local red wine was somewhat closer than I care to be to the cost of a bottle of Dom Perignon retail. Oh, what cheek. But the hotel was lovely and very soothing. They call it the W. The What? you ask. Exactly my point.

February and I was called to Iceland for the weekend. There was this mix up at the ticket counter - my ex travel agent had booked my in the back of the plane and the ticket agent looked at us and said "I hope you have pre assigned seats." Darling, and I hope you're wearing a head brace.

Well then she started screaming and typing and before you knew it I was sitting in front. Well, what goes around...

Upon my arrival, I was a bit confused as to how to get from the airport across the lava fields to Reykyavik. I kept waiting for cabs - but none showed. Another American was also trying the same thing - finally one showed up. It took us across the snow covered lava as the sun was rising. Pretty spectacular. I wanted to take his hand and cover him with smooches, but there's no excuse for bad manners.

Speaking of bad manners, let's move onto the fare. At least $100. While I'm never one to quibble about expense, this was hardly a 25 minute ride. Poor darling, my taxi companion was a bit put off, so I paid for it and told him to think nice things about me.

I stayed at the lovely Hotel Borg - right in the heart of things - as in the heart of things that you can be in a town of 125,000 people. (The other 125,000 people in Iceland live elsewhere). As it was 8 o'clock in the morning, I took a nap and had a bit of mexican soup for lunch. I always eat mexican when I'm in Iceland.

That afternoon a bit of soaking in the blue lagoon which is located at one of the hydroelectric geo-thermal plants. The run-off has become this big spa. And the water is like the water at an amusement park log ride - opaque aqua blue. Upon my arrival, the weather has become a blizzard and I was required to don a scarf to keep my hair on. I changed into my new one piece bought specifically for this trip to Iceland with the high cut legs to accentuate my waist - or is it high cut legs to accentuate my legs? Or maybe to hide my thighs? Well, anyway I looked good. And then walked resolutely towards the two story wood and glass doors leading to the lagoon, opened them and stepped outside.

Into a blizzard.

Then very quickly into a steaming pool of hot water (or hydroelectric sewage if you are a bit less romantically inclined). Absolutely thrilling for at least 37 minutes!

The rest of the weekend was a blur of lava, hot water, salmon, lamb and cross country skiing. Yes, I do. How do you think I keep these gams in shape?

Oh right. How could I forget.

I went to the penis museum- the Institute of Phallology. So much more interesting in anticipation than in experience. Double entendre intended.

And then most recently a family trip to Puerto Vallarta. So many half naked spring break fraternity men - so little time to teach them all manners. When you are sitting next to a lady, whether she be one or not, it is polite to make small talk, non-threatening conversation. Sucking on your long neck and screaming ‘hooters...hooters...hooters' in unison with your pledge class really doesn't up your odds of a dinner date later that evening.

But, everyone has to make their own mistakes.

I had planned to wax poetic on this millennium march and gore versus bush and Hillary versus Rudolph but I'm finding my self a bit fatigued by it all.

Let me see if I can whip all the salient points out while I hear the tinkling of the glass spoon in the glass pitcher in the next room.

The march - can't we all just get along? Is anyone benefiting from all this in-fighting? As I see it we all lose here. Without full community support, it basically turns into a marketing circuit party. Which it might have been anyway, but at least everyone would have been involved. Oh, my brain is just a muddle of conflict on this one and I don't see an easy way out of it. As my Auntie Tilda used to say, "Sweet TrooTroo (she called me that), Sweet TrooTroo, if something's awry on the first date, it ain't likely to get better." The ‘ain't' is poetic license. Tilda would never... I suspect I'll have to pay for my opinions, but luckily I'm flush.

Albert and George. Actually I have very little to say about that. So let's move on.

Hillary and Rudolph. I'm a little shocked by Hillary. I expected so much more than I've gotten. I do hope she's one of those demur girls that just don't blow their own horn but of whom you make lovely and intelligent discoveries as time goes on. In fact, I hope that most of the state of New York makes those discoveries before November as she seems much to modest and misguided to help us in finding them herself.

As for Rudolph, all I can say is...

"Hooters...Hooters...Hooters." And in the words of Dame Edna who really is quite charming, "I mean that in the nicest possible way."