Left On and Resting Sad Face










First of all, I hope all of my fellow lefties had a fabulous Lefthanders Day. (I’m not linking to the official Lefthanders Day website because its “bandwidth has been exceeded.” Left on!) If you haven’t visited the Anything Lefthanded website, go there and sign up for the newsletter and do some shopping!

Along with being lefthanded, I have something called “resting sad face.”

Resting Sad Face
Resting Sad Face









I didn’t know that there was a name for this until I read a recent article about “resting bitch face.”

Wow! Once in a while, I notice my reflection in a window and am surprised at how sad I look. I may be thinking about where I’m going for lunch that day, but I look like I’m thinking about a dying pet.

Do you have a resting [fill in the blank] face?

Salt and a Sit-In

Hello! I’m a little behind with reporting on my birthday list. Last month, I went to a flotation therapy center called Bodymind Float Center in Rochester, New York. However, I didn’t float in a tank; I chose the more economical option of salt therapy.

A friend of mine was game as well, so we sat in the salt room for an hour and caught up on each other’s lives while we inhaled micro-particles of salt. We couldn’t feel anything in the air, but we could taste the salt on our tongues as we gabbed away. The room was Spartan; there were two lounge chairs, a table, and two baskets of huge chunks of salt on the floor. Somehow the salt was getting ground behind the scenes and coming out of a vent in the wall.

This type of therapy is supposed to be good for people with respiratory problems. Luckily, I don’t have those types of problems. But by the end of the session, I had blown my nose a few times! It was a unique experience.

Last week, I had another unique experience. I participated unwittingly in a sit-in at the college where I work. And I was not on the protesters’ side!

Long story short, I’m a staff member but was invited to attend a big faculty meeting. A few hundred students dressed in black decided to take over said meeting. They marched right in, chanting about racial discrimination and holding signs. Then they sat down, surrounding the faculty in their seats, and student after student spoke about his or her experiences of discrimination and cultural insensitivity at the college. They spoke for almost two hours.

Their main demand was to make participation in cultural competency courses mandatory for all faculty. From the stories they told, the faculty need it. It was a peaceful protest and most of the faculty agreed with what the students had to say.

It was a strange feeling to be on the “oppressor’s” side, even though I was really just a guest. It was a powerful experience, and I truly hope that my employer takes action.

So now I have 12 things left to do in fewer than four weeks! It’s on, baby.

Finding a Long-Lost Relative* by Way of a Hamster


I worked in a Wegmans bakery department throughout high school and college. One day, a coworker proclaimed that I laughed like a hamster. And a nickname was born.

I don’t remember the details, but my coworkers gifted me with an actual hamster after I had given notice. I couldn’t care for the hamster for very long…I’m assuming because of my impending move to London. A friend of mine took him/her in. Tragically, the little critter escaped from his/her cage and ended up crawling into the oven through a hole in the wall. End of hamster.

Present Day

The other day, a friend pointed me to a YouTube video of Phat Daddy Mac Dancing Hamster. As the clip ended, I noticed a link to a video called “The Story of My Hamster” on the page. “I had a hamster once,” I thought, as I clicked on the video.

OK. Right away I learn that the storyteller is (1) English and (2) we share a last name. So we’re obviously related. And (3) he is HYSTERICAL.

Dan Howell. I immediately subscribed to his YouTube channel and have been watching his videos off and on since I discovered him. He has a pal named Phil who is a riot as well. They are releasing a book this year and going on tour. Come to Boston, lads!


* not a fact

Fish Heads


I never thought I would see the day that I would eat fish eggs. But strange things happen when you have a birthday list to complete.

Over the weekend, a local seafood restaurant was offering a special Icelandic menu during an annual Iceland festival. My friend asked me to go, and when I saw that the first course had fish eggs in it, I was sold.

To be precise, I ate arctic char roe. I can’t say they tasted like much. They were gelatinous little bubbles. I did bite into one that burst and that was a little shocking.

The first course was OK…a lot of raw salmon, which I am not used to. A bunch of onion and other crunchy veggies were smothered in a dill sauce and wrapped in the salmon.

fish eggs










The second course was very good: Icelandic cod and mussels in some type of awesome sauce. Dessert was Icelandic tiramisu, which tasted kind of like gingerbread cake. It was a fun and adventurous meal.

As I reflected on the fish eggs later, a tune floated into my head. I thought to myself, is there a song about fish eggs? Oh no, it’s fish heads.

Wait, what?

Yes: “Fish heads, fish heads, roly poly fish heads. Fish heads, fish heads. Eat them up, yum.” I loved that song when I was a kid. I think there was a corresponding hand gesture involved as well, but I can’t be sure.

I had to learn more. Where did this song come from? Was it from an ’80s cartoon? The Muppet Show? How could it be…it’s such a strange song. And all I could recall was the chorus.

Well, I just searched for the song on Google and up came a link to the music video. I have never seen this video, as I know I would have remembered it. It’s in turn fascinating, cringe-inducing, and just plain bizarre. Which means I love it.

Does anyone else remember this song from 1979?? There’s no music until about 2:10 in…




Out of Balance


I’ve been bad about balancing my checkbook lately. Am I alone or do others fall behind, too? Filling out line items for the entire previous month seemed daunting, which led me to do one quick computation and write the following in my checkbook (second line):












This reminded me of an interaction I had with a customer rep from my bank that took place a few months ago. I lost my ATM card and I called to request a replacement. The customer rep needed to verify that I was who I claimed to be. The only way this could be done was for me to give her my account’s most recent deposit amount. I tried in vain to recall the amount, and she said, “You can look at your checkbook.” I replied, “I don’t balance my checkbook!” This was met with hoots of laughter. Luckily I realized that I could look up the deposit amount online.

I really do balance my check most of the time, Mom. Sometimes life just gets in the way…