Are Canadians Destroying the Rapture?

Well, it was only a matter of time before we found out that James Cameron (you remember, the dude that bludgeoned us with Titanic, Terminator and other movies beginning with "T") was nothing but a blasphemer... in another swift move toward the letter "T", Cameron's documentary "The Lost Tomb of Christ" is taking hits from all over the place... it's no DaVinci Code, but I bet there are protester lining up to protest the Discovery Channel at one of their stores near you on March 4. Leave it to a Canadian...

It makes me think, somewhat seriously, about the whole religion thing today as we are currently in the season of Lent (which if you aren't of the whole Catholic backing, Lent is the whole resurrection of Jesus deal, and in traditional Lenten times, you fasted... but marketing in Catholicism/Christianity what it is, Lent is reduced to not eating meat on Friday's and giving up some kind of earthly temptation for the 40 days, which precede Easter Sunday). Someone asked me last week (which was the official kick off of the "fasting") what Fat Tuesday was and in the next breath, what I was giving up for Lent. I was somewhat floored by the question combo.

1. Fat Tuesday is the day before Ash Wednesday (the first day of Lent), as such, you would "Fatten up" to make it through the fast. It is not, contrary to popular times, a day of gorging on heavy donuts and pancakes to regret eating the leftovers the following day before going to Church and getting your head smudged with ash.
2. I renounced Catholicism and Christianty as a teenager. I have not practised Lent in over 16 years.
3. Being that #2 above what it is, how is it that I should have to explain the traditions and history of another person's religion to them?

To address number 3, I have to think that because I did my research and did not in some blind act of rebellion renounce the religion that I was raised in that I can address the question. I've actually read a lot about various religions, took classes, ask questions... in the process, given what I see happening with the "truly devout" I think I've come to a greater appreciation of people's religions as an agnostic than some people who go to a church weekly or more. And to me, that is truly a sad thing.

Which leads me back to James Cameron's documentary... I wonder, what it is exactly, that is so detrimental to one's faith to think that maybe Jesus was buried, maybe he had a child... if you believe what you believe, what difference does it make--the tenets of faith are not disturbed, you can still believe both... after all, that is what faith is; believing in something greater.

Keep dreaming

So, one of the great things (read sarcasm) about the internet is that it means I can see who won an Oscar without having to actually watch the Oscars. My only interest this year was in whether Eddie Murphy would win... and sadly he did not. As I posted previously, the only acting that came out of Dreamgirls of note, in my opinion, was Murphy... in fact, I've never seen him better. Admittedly, Alan Arkin in Little Miss Sunshine was good, but his performance was not at the same level as Murphy's.

And this is why I don't watch the Oscars any longer... it's a very political, very stuffy event and it only makes sense to insiders. Now, I'm the first to admit that it is very disappointing to see Murphy's astounding performance in Dreamgirls followed with a movie like Norbit, but that is the charm of Eddie--brillance marked by stupidity. I've never understood why Oscars don't solely look at the performance at hand and disregard the Nutty Professors along the way.

It's not just Eddie... there are brilliant actors who have given performances outside the realms of what is fed up for the Academy Awards... think Johnny Depp; his performances in Donnie Brasco, the Libertine, Blow... are still chliling to think about, but his nomination came in recent years for Pirates of the Caribbean? Even this seemed out of whack from Depp's perspective.

Jennifer Aniston has given performance after performance that are far more memorable than anyone one (barring Stanley Tucci) from the Devil Wears Prada... but no noms (and notably, none of Tucci, either, who was by far the best part of that movie). It's a game I'm not interested in playing along with. Which is a huge change for me, I used to be an awards show junkie--faithfully watching and committing to memory the winners.

Perhaps, it is that in the last few years, I find very few movies that I have any interest at all in truly watching. I used to love going to the movies for entertainment, and now it doesn't happen much at all... there are few titles of interest. One of the few I am looking forward to happens to be coming up this weekend. Been a very, very long time since I've wanted to see a movie with John Travolta or Martin Lawrence, but Wild Hogs looks like pure candy and I"m ready to devour.

Icecream Castles

It occurred to me that I had not nearly enough Joni Mitchell downloaded. As such, I downloaded some, though Joni really requires that one go out, get a cuppa coffee and buy the CDs... but with the icy rain this morning, a cuppa coffee brewed at home and a quick download of Both Sides Now and All I Want will get me through.

Sadly, I am almost ashamed to admit that in the download purchase was also a variety of Madonna, the Spice Girls and Britney... it just doesn't go, but I needed some mindless workout music and "life's illusions" will not get me through the crux of a workout.

It's been a busy weekend. Lot of laundry, cleaning, errands, groceries, and workouts. The latter has left me with a bruised bone in my foot. As such, I should not have pushed it yesterday on the treadmill, but I did... not sure why, apparently I would prefer a stress fracture? Heh, not really... no need for a doctor, I have the internet MD on hand. Actually, I've had this same problem before, it's painful and annoying, but can I can still manage to continue as I've been, just need to get some foam rubber. Yep, foam rubber, of all things, provides adequate cushioning to allow the bruise to heal while continuing to hit the treadmill. It's not just for Tempurpedic mattresses anymore!!

Nothing to Report

Today was a long day with a trip to Columbus, OH, and back by 5:30... Amazingly much work was accomplished... even in spite of my tendency to get motion sickness while reading and writing in a car.

Basically, I'm still fairly tired... I decided against the gym this evening and did some exercise at home. It was no where near what I would have done at the gym, but hopefully I will feel better tomorrow. If nothing else, I will get a few miles in at lunch--the weather looks like it will hold out a little longer.

My kitties are all pissed off little furballs. Jake because he isn't allowed on the drafting table; Vinnie because I come home and make him get up and move around; Calvin because he can't sit next to me while I'm working at the drafting table; Bowie, just because he's always pissed off about something.

I've finally eaten and had a nice cuppa decaf chai... it is so time to crash. Until later.... mahalo.

Something Awry on a Tuesday Morning...

I'm somewhat torn between whether to make commentary on the recent head shaving and tattoo garnering of Ms. Spears. Clearly, she is on the verge of a breakdown. Breakdowns are a device the mind uses when it can no longer sustain itself--and that is a very painful place to be. So on the one hand, I sympathize with her, on the other hand, keep it out of my headlines--we need that space for the current administrations denial of global warming... it hasn't happened yet, but I'm a betting that somehow the global warming report is a device that is being used to embolden the enemy. You wait, it's coming! After all, it was done with bad science--everyone knows that "Metric" system is a commie method of doin' stuff and cannot be trusted... the UN? HA!! We clearly proved they cannot be trusted... had we listened to them, Saddam would still be making weapons of mass destruction and they would still be looking around for them.

OK, even I cannot seriously continue that line of irrationality for much longer. It's too bad, I was well on my way to an audition for the Colbert Report. But it is clear that if I can go from Britney to lambasting the UN that I might have a shot with Fox News? Oh, I feel breakfast coming up...

Pie in Your Face?

SK has forwarded me more links in the past week than I can keep up with, but since I apparently have "singled out" one lil "pie guy", I thought I might pass along this link to the article the Detroit News did about the Pie Guy expanding his lil bizness into the Greater Detroit Area and the rest of the Country. Yep, apparently, my "picking" on this poor lil Pie Guy who might take in up tp $25 million this year in revenue is unjust--based on his comments previously posted. I have nothing against Mike (aka Pie Guy); he's probably like a lot of guys I've met in life--had a dream, went for it, was successful... I'm sure he's a great guy and a great humanitarian. I just don't care for the name of a sandwich his establishment serves.

It gets me thinking, and I'm sure I've thusly scribed of it here before, but there are different words that ascribe different meanings in different cultures. I'm not saying that I know them all or that I wouldn't be apt to make a mistake and use one unjustly. I'm not even saying that I would change the word I used, but I would be sure to recognize its significance and make certain that it wasn't done in a manner that blantantly offended.

It also makes me think, yeah, this Mike is much like a lot of guys I've met--the dream is there, it is being realized, every detail so fought for, worked on, strived for... you don't want to give up that essence. The idea that someone writes and says, hey, I'm offended... you take it personally, perhaps moreso than you might otherwise.

And you might wonder why the name of one sandwich matters so much... that I've dedicated several posts here and my energy in writing to the Pie Guy on more than one occassion. It is because history matters.

I was listening to an interview Stephen Colbert did with author Debra Dickerson concerning her book, "The End of Blackness" and the controversy surrounding Barack Obama's blackness it reminded me of why our histories and cultures are so integral to our identities... it is the collective experience. So no, one sandwich name probably doesn't mean much to a lot of people, but it does matter to a people that have had their rights stripped, continuously, their identities diminished, their language forbidden and their experience is that another culture has continually sapped it for its own profit. So while the Pie Guy is no Bayer Aspirin or the peddler of commericialized Native American jewelry or Cowboy/Indian playsets, he has unwittingly borrowed from a culture for profit--a very large profit. Granted, most I'm sure comes from the sale of pie; but does that make it any less right?

Sunday Musing...

This morning, I awoke just as tired as I was when I went to bed, minus the caffeine surge; indeed it took me an hour to get the first cuppa coffee in. Once adequately caffeinated, I was left with the realization that I actually felt worse than when I went to bed as when I went to bed I wasn't being inundated with reruns of Spin City. At some point, in the midst of a very bad John Travolta movie (and I would say that is an oxymoron, but at one time Travolta could jam with the best...LOL) I managed to turn the TV off and turn the iPod on for some Norah Jones, Dixie Chicks and Jimmy Buffett... I also managed to rearrange the living room to fit the new drafting table in. Originally, I thought it would require a lot of shuffling of things, but as it turned out, it did not. The most difficult endeavor was moving the book shelve in the living room 3 inches to access the outlet. Thank god I have Sheera-like strength, so it only took 30 minutes.

Overall, the morning has been quite productive. I made five new bandanna--three of which feature the Pink Panther. It seemed quite necessary. Especially since my hair is not long enough to pull back anymore, and that makes workouts inconveniently more sweaty without the bandanna. I've also gotten quite a bit more work done on my latest writing endeavor. It is a fictionalized short story featuring a series of vignettes with the working title: Conversations From Across the Table. It's a nice repreive from the writing I've been doing of late about my battle with food and body image. I'm hoping to finish in time to enter into a writing contest--something I've not done in years, but am looking forward to entering and seeing the rejection letters pile up. In normal life, we seek to avoid rejection, but as a writer, a pile of rejection letters actually means you are working--working toward your goals, working toward bettering yourself, working to find the right place. I guess if we could all apply that concept to the other parts of life, it would be really cool. Every writer I know is proud of their stack of rejection letters, but if not for the other rejections, disappointments, etc--what might they write about?

Scents from a mall

Given the colder temps again today, I decided to do part of my training at Briarwood Mall. It opens most mornings at 7 a.m. for walkers. I arrived just after 7 this morning and noticed that the only other Mall Walkers between the hours of 7 and 8 run an average age of approximately 102.

Another thing I noticed is that after a while, while walking the laps, you begin to know where you are by smell. It sounds funny to say you don't know where you are in a mall while walking, but when it is closed, and when you are walking, you tend to lose sight of where, exactly, you are at. But certain stores have very distinct scents. I must say, American Eagle and Banana Republic should not be located next to each other--their contrasting colognes are olfactory killers. The best smelling store? Victoria's Secret. You might think it would have a heavy perfumey scent that would cause the eyes to water, but it doesn't. It is a light, flittery scent--one might say, it smells pink.

Though some stores are overkill on the scent they exude, the same problem can happen at the gym. There is one guy who must be at least 60 who bathes in somekind of cologne before he comes in to strut around and flirt with any woman under 40 and over 18. Too often, there is someone at the gym with a case of splash happiness, and really, it just has to stop.

It's VD

Of course, I mean Valentine's Day, but whatever else you want to associate with the term "VD" would probably fit this holiday that perpetuates the sale of blood diamonds, sweat shop gifts and chocolate from beans that was probably picked by children for a penny a pound. The advantage is that I'm waiting less and less time at the gym for my hampster wheel these days as the NY Resolutioners give up in exponential terms.

SK sent me a link today to MSNBC's Redtape Blog discussing the decline of online dating... as is appropriate for VD, and as a single girl with a Match account of her own, I can assure you I'm looking forward to the subscription running out. I'm in reruns there with the same guys whom I've either gone out with once ot turned down after a couple emails who are trying to give it another go.

SK has suggested I need to get away from engineer types. I pointed out that we live in southeast Michigan and finding engineers here is like finding a stock brokers in NYC. Regardless, my Match account will not expire too soon, and like every other time, I vow that I will not go back to it... and this time, no one will talk me into it otherwise.

Am I the ONLY one?

Could it possibly be that I am some kind of weird anomly, an alien amongst the world, for thinking that the Police should not get back together and subject people all over with the treachery of hearing Roxanne, among others? Admittedly, I find no other song as nerve grating and irratating as Roxanne... with perhaps a slight second being anything by Celine Dion and maybe Justin Timberlake's In a Box.

There is a flurry of buzzing going on over this reunion tour. I wonder if it won't turn into an all out brawl somewhere over Miami... and Copeland will have to pull a gun and fire a few warning shots out to break up the bitch slapping that Sting and Summers will have engaged in. Or maybe I'm just mixing up a story about an NBA player and a band jumping on the reunion wagon.

The Rudeness!!

It's a terrible life my cats have to endure... here Jake is, lying on the ottoman, minding his own damn business, sleeping (because he will barely get in the requisite 18 hours today as it is) and what happens? I decide to move the laptop cord, which he is so thoughtfully holding down for me. It really is just disgusting that he should have to move his paw. It's thoroughly unjust; complete rudeness. And believe me, the look I got let me know--I'm lucky he is tired, otherwise, I'm rather certain my fate would be far more severe.

The Rush Street Experience

Friday night, several of us went to dinner in downtown Ann Arbor. I had suggested this tapas restaurant that is somewhat newish that I heard the food was quite tasty; Rush Street. Since, I’ve been trying to process the evening; and you know when you spend an hour in a place and it seems like an entire night AND it takes a day or so to get some rational hold on what the experience truly was, it was definitely something!

Rush Street is downtown Royal Oak in the middle of Ann Arbor. If you aren’t from Michigan or aren’t familiar with the reference—let’s just say it is the ultimate in pretension stuck in the midst of a place that prides itself on Calvin Klein casual. That isn’t to say the place was loaded with Prada and high-end fashion, but bad knock-offs.

The fashion, while rather “interesting” was not the only point to digest. The place had a very meat market feel; not only in the sense that the men (and women) were entirely there to pick up something (anything), the place had the air of one of those after hours clubs that are literally transformed from daytime meat markets to night time clubs.

There was the bouncer that apparently wanted to be something between a 90s P. Diddy and a street corner pimp.

There were the Drakkar soaked, strip-y shirted guys in their mid to late 20s, possibly early 30s who were terrified of not picking up anyone, or appearing lame, or both.

How about the Soprano’s coming in fresh off the docks? Gotti’s crew were boxing in two blondes at the bar when we left. Seriously one looked like a younger Joe Viterelli.

The women with bad hair cuts, bad highlight jobs and bad fashion direction… not to mention the bad shoes, the ill-fitting shoes, and the guy in cowboy boots.

Music from a DJ in the adjoining bar kicked up about 10 p.m. and sounded like the soundtrack to a bad porn movie; I guess maybe it wasn’t too far off when you walked into that bar area—which no one wanted to do, but had no choice if needing to use the bathroom. It actually reminded me of the scene in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas where Raoul Duke is hallucinating at the bar when they first get to Vegas and sees all the lizards fucking. “I was right in the middle of a fucking reptile zoo, and somebody was giving booze to these goddamn things. Won't be long now before they tear us to shreds.”

The topper of the evening was the trip to the bathroom, however, with the girl shrieking into her cell phone while plastered against a mirror about the guys who paid the bouncer $20 to sit next to them, then loaded them up on shots and apparently bored her for 40 minutes about his trips to Africa. She just couldn’t go back out there. It loses something in the translation without the Valley Girl pitching that writing just does not convey.

In the future, I’m not sure I will be completely allowed to choose the location, but I’m not sure anything picked could truly top the Rush Street experience. If it did, I’m not sure our heads could really handle it, if it did, we could easily implode.

Disney Bastardizations

Last night, in a moment of having nothing to watch and wanting to watch SOMETHING, I turned to On Demand and saw that Disney's version of Alice in Wonderland was available; so I ordered it. Of course, I fell asleep shortly after the first appearance of the Cheshire Cat. This morning, over a very delightful cup of my last Trader Joe find of Peaberry Coffee, I finished watching it.

Disney has some redeeming qualities, but their utter bastardization of Lewis Carroll is not one of them. It has been a very long time since I watched the Alice version created by Disney, and now I recall why that is... I absolutely despise it. I have my own image of the characters, they are not soft and fuzzy--they have edge and are not sing-songy. It has long been my contention that the book is not really a children's book inasmuch as the themes are very adult. I didn't like the story as a kid. It was scary and, I thought, boring. As an adult, it is one of my absolute favorites; indeed, I refer back to it continually.

For me, the Cheshire Cat is the center of everything. I would join some literati's in the contention that the Cheshire Cat is the representation of God; however, I would go beyond that and argue further that he is the combination of both God and the Devil. And, while Disney made the Cat so fabulously purple--it missed out big time on the true essence of this and so many other characters--including Alice. Alice should not be a Barbie blonde. Don't get me wrong, I love Barbie and have nothing against being blonde; but she doesn't fit in their rendition.

I could go on... but I won't.

V-Day Resolutions

Today, in what has become somewhat of a tradition for me on the Friday prior to V-day; I took a vacay day from work and spent it with myself. I made myself breakfast, drank coffee while lounging in the sunshine coming through the patio windows with the cats, did some shopping, took myself to lunch, had a nice salon appointment, had a soy latte in front of a fake fireplace, did a little more shopping and now, I'm chilling out, doing a little writing. I will be off shortly to meet some friends for dinner. All in all, a nice me day.

Part of the tradition of the Me Day is also the development of my Valentine's Resolutions. In previous years, they've been rather fluffy in nature... as a Valentine's Day resolution should be to some extent, but this year, in light of the challenges and things facing me as I look ahead, I wonder if this year, I might make them a little less fluffy--not much, just a little. But such that they are my resolutions, I figure I can do what the hell I want with them; so here goes:

1. I should drink more beer. I like beer. I currently don't drink it because it has calories; I resolve to drink at least one beer per month.
2. I should not be so critical when I look in the mirror. That "lumpiness" in the clothing I keep getting disgusted with are my ribs; no amount of dieting will eliminate them.
3. I might consider thinking about admiting that I might not truly be 29... that is, after my 29th birthday again this year.
4. I will make more time to write. I feel good when I write--even if it ends up being utter chic-lit rubbish, the process is freeing.
5. I will resolve to try to accept that it is okay to give up a workout on occassion if I want to do something else.

Well, that's it folks... (Please note: I stand by my previous assertions and former resolution that resolutions suck. I am nothing if not a contradiction.)

Milestones

As far as workouts go, mine has remained pretty static... I change things up here and there, but this week I actually made some progress and hit some milestones I'm pretty happy with:

I got in 4.5 miles in 30 minutes on the ellipitical.
I ran for 1.5 miles at an incline of 6 percent on the treadmill... I never run on the treadmill; but it felt good. Not saying I will do it often...

And now, since I had less than 4 hours of sleep last night (I was up writing and researching some writing), it is time for me to consider watching some tv with my eyes closed. Actually, it is one of the better ways to watch tv these days. Tomorrow is a "Me Day" and I've gotten all the tedious tasks done around here including laundry, vaccuuming, sweeping, dishes... it's all done so I can get up and not have to do anything I don't feel like... and I can get up whenever I so desire.

besos...

Interesting Mail Day

Got home tonight and as is par, got the mail. After a shower and some dinner, I rifled through... my lab results were sent by my doctor... he'd already called me to tell me that my iron is low No shock there, I'm almost always anemic, though honestly, I had hoped with 2 multivitamins a day with 100% iron in each, I would have escaped having to take more iron, but not the case. I always find it incredibly interesting, and yet utterly depressing to think that all that blood drawn amounts to a few scribbles on a piece of paper that are not easily understood by most people who receive copies of them. But the good news from the report--I do NOT need a Chicken Pox vaccination--I've been exposed and have an immunity to the Pox. Somewhat of a relief.

Also in the mail was a letter, copy of a letter and gift card from Olga's. Not only was the envelope sealed tight, it was also taped. I had to chuckle a little--first someone obviously had checked my blog after the fact since I never wrote them again, and they made sure that there was not an empty envelope this time. They were apparently quite serious about their apology--making sure of it... so thanks, Olga's.

And that's all there is on that.

Bedtime.

Conspiracy?

Well, I had a whole post written up, explaining how we need to eliminate the use of the term EMBOLDEN and that blogging would be the next target that embolden's the enemy/terrorists, but it MYSTERIOUSLY disappeared when I went to post it.

Coincidence? You decide... but it is highly suspect.

I'd love to rewrite it, but I'm tired. And Stephen Colbert is about to apologize for slavery... yeah, a rerun... but still worthwhile.

DIY

This weekend, I began my chair redesign project. I'd been thinking about recovering my hideous dining room chairs and painting the frames. One frame is nearly painted, and all of them would be if spray painting in an apartment was condusive to breathing and such trival matters. All of the pieces minus one have been re-covered... and the last will be completed when I get to the store and acquire more staples. I'm very excited about seeing the end result of my efforts and think that it will justify the terribly sore hands I have from pulling old staples out for what seemed like hours.

In times such as these, it is almost terribly disappointing that a camera crew was not available to document this extraordinary feat to share with the world on that DIY channel filled with those others whose extraordinary feats are viewed and deemed boring, stupid, and/or WTF by the rest of the public.

Walking

At the end of November, a woman I met on SparkPeople who is walking the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer in DC as well challenged herself, and anyone interested, to complete 500 training miles by May 1 (The walk is May 5 & 6). I accepted the challenge, and have been tracking my training miles since... As I was updating my fundraising page this morning, I realized I've trained over 200 miles in 2 months. I've walked (or ran) on a treadmill, an elliptical, hiking trails, the mall, sidewalks, bike trails, a track -- in sun, rain, snow, ice, air conditioning, layers of clothing... And I am SO looking forward to adding warm and hot weather to that list, someday.

But, while the 200 miles is great, now is the time I really need to get into gear and on the training schedule. There are 90 days to the Walk... for those unfamiliar, the Walk is the distance of a Marathon (26.2 miles) the first day, and half a marathon the second day.

Anyone interested in walking a marathon, or just curious as to what the training involves for walking a marathon distance, there is a good website here that provides a wealth of information. AND, if anyone is ever interested in a training walk with me, just say so... I'm always up for the company. Bear in mind, however, that Saturday's are planned long distance days for me--and I will be doing nothing under 10 miles.

Recovery

Well, after an evening/night of being very ill, I'm relieved that I am feeling somewhat better... "Heavy" foods are still not sitting well with me, which means I'm reduced to bread and other softer, kinder faire. Once I was feeling better, I was waken to the sound of Bowie getting sick. Must have been the night for it.

Still, if you don't think a cat is good buddy consider this: when I was at my worse, lying on the bathroom floor, Calvin was there for me. Lying next to me on the bathroom floor, sitting on the counter next to the sink when I brushed my teeth uncountable times, curled next to me on the chair. Jake was there too, although he was trying to get his head in the toliet with mine.

Sick.

It is Freezie-Brrrrrr-COLD!! Even the cats refuse to go outside and, as you might imagine, it is entirely my fault that the outside was sunny today and yet too cold to go out on the balcony. Bowie has been a little stir crazy today.

As for me, I feel like crap. I was fine earlier; joined the ranks of Mall Walkers today because it was too cold for outside training. I love a mall, I don't like mall walking. It is very disorienting. At some point, though, somewhere between recovering my dining room chairs and asphyxiating myself and the cats with a can of spray paint in an enclosed apartment I started not feeling very well at all. I'm sure the spray paint didn't help matters, but doubt it was the reason for dinner not staying down. Today is just one of those days where nothing, and I mean nothing, settles well. And as soon as I can get a break in the nausea, I'm going to bed.

A Chulutean State of Mind

You may be wondering, what is a Chulutean state of mind. In fact, it is not an unlikely question... it first requires one understand that Chulutean is not a normal state for one to be in. It requires some special kind of convoluted-ness combined with several other factors. It is an amazing and somewhat exhausting status to achieve.

My Chulutean status has come after an especially long and difficult week. It's Chulutean, actually, to imply that it has only been a long and difficult week--in fact, the last six weeks have been challenging both personally and professionally. The company I work for was acquired in November and as with any acquisition, there are bumps in the road--this one is no exception and you just work through them as well as possible and stay as positive as possible along the way. Then there are bad dates, injuries, and insomnia; among other things.

Tonight, however, was a very enjoyable evening; a nice, quiet and delicious dinner with a good friend at the Blue Nile, an Ethiopian restaurant in Ann Arbor. I highly recommend it. And, delightfully, the coffee served there is quite good. It has a nice, rich, almost fruity taste. Not typically a coffee drinker after 9 a.m., but hey, it's Friday, I'm living life on the edge.