You know the old adage - “Is that a banana in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

So when I walked into work this morning and grabbed a banana from the free-fruit basket, here’s what I saw…

Looks like a normal banana right? It’s got the usual Chiquita sticker on it, and it’s a pleasing looking banana.

But let’s take a closer look at the blue sticker…what does it say?

That’s right…

“Pocket size fun!”

You can’t make this stuff up people.

October is an incredibly popular month for weddings so it seems. Two of our couple friends chose this month to tie the knot here in California, and this past weekend was the first.

Our friends Dave and John chose a perfect spot (the 15th floor of the Hyatt overlooking the Capital) for their wedding ceremony, dinner, and reception. I like weddings that are all inclusive like that, especially the hosted bar for the first hour ;-).

The service was performed by the former minster of the local MCC, and it was a blend of Christian and contemporary readings (including poetry from Robert Frost, and some Native American writings).

After the service they served dinner while guests socialized and hit the bar before it switched to no-host. We had a great time at our table - laughing, drinking, having fun with the wait staff, and generally goofing off like you do at a wedding reception. And then the fun started.

After numerous champagne toasts, lots of red wine, and a few screwdrivers/dirty martini’s/vodka cran’s, we were ready to dance. The DJ took requests, and after the obligatory slow songs to start the night off with, things got going.

It got so crazy at one point that all the groomsmen took their pants off (no worries, they had VERY long tux coats) and did a conga line around the dance floor to “I’m too sexy” by Right Said Fred. Hilarious. As soon as I figure out how to get the video off of my phone I’ll try to post it.

Anyway - thank you California for letting these types of ceremonies be possible for couples who love each other.

And a reminder to everyone who can, vote NO on 8. Don’t allow hate to be written into our constitution.

And finally, congratulations to Dave and John!!! Many years of joy to both of you!

Today I will be discussing the linguistic tool called the Strategic Pause.

Illustration:

Heath: “Wow the kitchen is a mess!”

David: “And that is why I’m going to clean it!”

Heath: “Yay!”

David: “Later tonight.”

Heath: “Oh…”

Strategic Pause is used in a conversation to elaborate on the original statement with humour, negation, or reversal.

In the above example we are first presented with a very pleasing statement that David is going to clean the kitchen. This is followed by the strategic pause at which point David offers a combination of negation and reversal. The implication is that he is going to clean the kitchen immediately, but using SP he shows that he will actually do it later.

This pattern of speech can also be used to attempt humour. “I’m having a baby (SP) as soon as I find someone worthwhile to impregnate me.” Notice that before the SP the listener is feeling an urge to congratulate, but after the completion of the statement the listener is either chuckling or embarrassed at believing the lie.

As you can see, Strategic Pause is rarely used for beneficial purposes.

Some famous strategic pauses:

“Mission Accomplished…” - this one actually never came back from the pause

“I like long walks (SP) especially when they are taken by people who annoy me.” - Fred Allen

“O Lord, help me to be pure (SP) but not yet.” - Saint Augustine

“I spent a year in that town (SP) one Sunday.” - George Burns

“I haven’t spoken to my wife in years (SP) I didn’t want to interrupt her.” - Rodney Dangerfield

“I bought some batteries (SP) but they weren’t included.” - Steven Wright

Use it wisely.

I usually try to refrain from political discourse on this blog, but this was too annoying to pass up. Once again we’ve been treated to some delicious sound bites about the Republican VP contender…

I’m happy to go on the record to state that I in no way support the Republican party, because they, in general, do not support me. Many of them believe that I will go to something called “hell” when I die, and some of them believe that I’m an abomination on the face of the planet because a book told them so. I’m as much of an abomination as Paris Hilton (who I secretly adore). Oh … wait.

Anyway.

America is a very isolated place. When the 11th of September arrived and two of our landmark financial buildings were destroyed, we were shocked. How could this happen in our country? This type of thing happens all the time in other countries - we are just too isolated to ever think it could happen here. I know people who live in the same place they grew up and have no desire to even travel outside the town they live - not even to another state. We have created a self-imposed isolation and it’s not attractive.

Apparently that also extends to Sarah Palin - the person who wants to be your next Vice President. Since she can see Russia from her backyard there’s apparently no reason to go there. Apparently if you can SEE another country there’s really no need to visit is there? Because seeing it from a distance will tell you everything about it: its people, its culture, its ness, its everything. Gosh she must be awfully smart about Russia from all those days sitting on the back porch staring across the waters at another kingdom she wants to conquer. There must be smudges all over the globe in her living room - “Wow, Uganda sure is a pretty shade of blue. I wonder what makes their country so blue?”

According to the NY Times, she didn’t have a passport until last year. LAST YEAR. Who knew that having a passport for less than 18 months qualifies you to be the VP of this country? One would think that at the top levels of government it’s pretty much a requirement that you’ve spent a significant amount of time NOT in your own country, because after all, isn’t running a country about the relationships you build with other countries? We’re not living in a loony lunar colony are we?

For regular Americans I can almost barely sort of but not so much forgive them for not having a passport. Although these figures are dated I’ll use them anyway and say that about 34% of you out there have one. (as of 2007 - USA today reports 74 million out of 281 million have passports) That means 66% have never set foot beyond the borders of this country. They have never experienced another culture first-hand. They have missed out on 90% of the World Heritage Sites. They haven’t seen another country unless they look at a map, much less out the back window of their house. And no, traveling via Google Maps or Google Earth does NOT count. [Listen to her talk to Katie Couric about why she didn't have a passport until recently]

Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. It’s reprehensible that we expect people to respect us in the world when over half our country isn’t even aware that there IS a rest of the world. It’s no wonder so many non-US comics berate us for thinking we’re the only country on the planet.

If you want to be a citizen of the world, I think you should get out there and SEE the world. Get off your butt, turn off the History Channel, and go out there and see history for yourself.

Otherwise, please go back to your gorgeous house and admire Russia from a distance…and stay there.

On Monday of this week I got stuck in an elevator…the same elevator I was stuck in about 5-6 years ago. That’s right, the exact same elevator, twice. One might even think there was a conspiracy going on.

When I come into work in the morning I always go to the cafe first. I fix myself a fruit/yogurt/granola parfait, get a decaf coffee, then make my way toward my building.

Since I work on the second floor and the cafe is on the first floor I’ve either got to take the elevator or the stairs. Being the safety role model that I am I always take the elevator if I am carrying things, because you can’t hold onto a safety rail if your hands are full.

Monday was no different. I pushed the call button, stepped into the elevator and hit “2″. The elevator rose, got to the second floor and stopped. The doors didn’t open. Having been in this situation before I reacted calmly. I set down my breakfast, looked around the ceiling to see if anyone was watching me on the security camera that is likely hidden behind one of the burned out light bulbs, laughed at myself for looking for a camera that isn’t there, then sat down on the floor and hit the button to call security.

They answered promptly after the voice lady reminded me that my call might be monitored for quality assurance (and who doesn’t want to hear a panicked person screaming at them on tape), and I informed them I was once again stuck in the elevator. I’m not sure they understood the “once again” part since it was only my first call to them, but somehow it made me feel better to make the point.

They said someone would be with me soon and hung up. So much for providing supportive reassurance that all would be well in the world.

I pulled out my phone and updated my Facebook status to “Heath is stuck in an elevator…” (because updating my status on a regular basis is an important part of social networking, and a crisis situation is no excuse for silence), at which point the elevator decided to return to the ground floor, but again, not to open the doors. I stood up, and with my brute strength pulled the doors apart to find a group of employees standing there staring at me wondering what was going on. I kindly advised them to take the stairs.

This wouldn’t be so strange except that it’s not the first time it has happened in that same elevator. Several years ago I was stuck in there for about 30-45 minutes while they attempted to get the doors open. That time I didn’t have any breakfast with me, so I sat on the floor and cleaned out my wallet.

Important Learnings: always use the restroom BEFORE taking an elevator; have at least one game on your mobile phone that can occupy your time; make sure your contact list is updated so you can call some friends you haven’t talked to in a while; deep cleansing breaths.

On Saturday we hit the road for the Napa Valley Wine and Art festival - an annual street block-off featuring local artisans, wineries, and food vendors. It was a delightful experience and I picked up some gifts as well as some unique items for our house. While we were eating I noticed this store and just had to take a picture. There really are no words to describe my reaction, so I’ll let the name of the place suffice.

But this story is not about one store with everything that a good country boy needs, but about what happened after we left the festival.

We were walking back to the Jeep when we came across a tree that none of us had ever seen before. It was completely covered in fruits that were in various stages of ripening, from yellow/green to bright red. Here is an image from Wikimedia commons:

The fruits were very interesting to touch - covered with rough “bumps”, but still feeling somewhat soft to the touch. It was evident that the red fruits were the ripe ones, as you could see a progression from the bright yellow through to pink to bright then deep red.

David picked one from the tree and squeezed it until we could see the insides. It was a mealy type of fruit, with many seeds inside. Without really considering any repercussions I said, “I’ll try it”, grabbed the fruit, and popped it into my mouth. It was pretty good. It had a very smooth taste - a light taste, and did have a mealy but pleasant texture.

My parents and David were shocked. They couldn’t believe that I would actually eat a random fruit without knowing what it was. I didn’t really get the concern - it was very evident that this was a fruit tree and I reasoned that they wouldn’t have planted a fruit tree in a park that was poisonous. People bring their children to the area and you know children always put bright red fruits in their mouths. I guess I regressed to childhood suddenly and my parents did take the opportunity to plot my demise for eating a possibly poisonous fruit.

Minutes passed and my throat didn’t close up…I was still breathing…no stomach pains…all was well. Although I do consider myself to be food intolerant, I have a relatively good ability to transmute odd edible items without adverse reaction. I guess it’s sort of like transmuting the water of life and becoming a Reverend Mother. If you get this reference then you’re one of the cool people.

Anyway…the day went on and I didn’t think anything of it. But the subject came up today while enjoying a BBQ dinner with the parents, and so I got on my phone and googled “fruit tree red rough”. I sorted through some pages and at first we thought it was lychee, but after looking at the image results I discovered that the fruits are actually from the Strawberry Tree.

These delicious red, rough, mealy fruits are quite common on California and the west coast, and are often used in borders because they remain green and the fruits are so decorative. I plan to get some seeds and see if we can grow a few of our own. I bet they would also make a delicious liquor.

So here’s a lesson to you all - red fruits are safe. Usually.

*cough*

*gasp*

Is it appropriate for me to talk about having a bowel movement that happened so quickly that it created a vacuum in my intestinal tract?

What if I mention the yellow pus that squirted out from my second toe because of an ingrown toenail?

Is there a boundary of appropriate content for ones personal blog? Perhaps…perhaps not. These are conversations that I am able to have with my partner and close friends…one topic is normal biological function, one is only gross in that the pus is a nasty yellow colour - but again a normal bodily function to heal an infection.

And admit it - that first one either made you gasp or burst out laughing…and gasping increases oxygen flow and laughing is heart healthy, so that makes this blog medically sound.

But seriously…I CAN talk about whatever I want, but SHOULD I. Do you really want to hear about bodily functions/infections? The answer is likely, no.

About a year ago I wrote a post called You Can’t Do That On Blogs.  In that post I talked about slander, copyright, libel, and using unreferenced images or those not in the public domain.

But even with those “restrictions”, you can still pretty much blog about any topic that you want. You can talk about technology, fashion, business, pets, religion, hobbies, politics, movies, moral issues, whatever - because it’s your personal public blog - and a lot of what you talk about is covered under your Freedom of Speech.

So while I have the freedom to do it, again, it might not be in my best interest to do so. I might lose readers that I so cherish because they don’t want to hear about the latest secretion from my toe. On the flip side, I might gain readers who like to hear about medical oddities. Do I want both kinds of readers, sure, but which do I want more?

One has to be careful not to alienate people who actively help carry on the conversation, because that’s really what blogs are about - creating conversation, sharing ideas, adding value to readers. And I, like all writers, often have trouble coming up with a topic to write about. There are many times when I vacillate on whether I want to keep blogging, and then a new topic pops into my mind during a conversation and voila, you get another post.

As long as you all keep coming back and keep commenting, I’ll keep coming up with volumes of wit and sarcasm to keep you entertained.

And no more posts about BM’s or pus. I promise. For now.