Frito-Lay pitches its Lay's potato chips as locally made

Here's proof-positive that more shoppers must seriously want to know where their food comes from: Frito-Lay, the world's biggest snack-food maker, is getting into the locally-made act. On Tuesday, Frito-Lay (PEP) will unveil an unlikely marketing strategy for its Lay's brand chips that focuses on the 80 "local" farmers from 27 states who grow the potatoes used to make its chips. In a new world of better-for-you food concerns, it's not about chips being fun to eat. It's about chips being local.And trackable. A tech toy at Lays.com dubbed Chip Tracker will let folks see where any bag of chips was made. Type in the first three digits of the product code on the bag and your ZIP code and out pops the location of the plant."Knowing where food is made and grown is important to consumers," says Dave Skena, vice president of potato chip marketing at Frito-Lay. "Sharing with consumers how regional we are is relevant and compelling."TV spots will be focused to make that point. Michigan farmer Brian Walther appears with his brother, Gary, in a spot to air in that state and tells viewers: "Next time you grab a bag of Lay's in Michigan, think of us." "Lay's Local" will be the brand's biggest 2009 campaign, Skena says. It also features 40,000 in-store displays customized for each state. Ads and regional store displays use such phrases as, "locally made in Texas." With good reason. A national survey of restaurant chefs by the National Restaurant Association found "locally grown" food to be the hottest industry trend for 2009. Frito-Lay does not claim its products are "locally grown," a popular and hotly debated industry term without a clear definition.Some say Frito-Lay is trying to fool folks. "They're trying to confuse consumers with something consumers already are confused about," says Dawn Brighid, marketing manager at Sustainable Table, a group in support of "green" eating. "Most of their products are obviously grown on industrial farms."Frito-Lay's new positioning for Lay's is not authentic, says Kate Newlin, consultant and author of Passion Brands. "They're trying to take a big, huge brand and make it look tiny. It's a shell game."But, to Frito-Lay's credit, says ad consultant Allison Cohen at PeopleTalk, the campaign reminds folks that Frito-Lay is an American brand that supports American farmers in tough times.Says Skena, "Our intention is solely on celebrating the contributions people and communities across the country have made to the Lay's brand."

Monday's Freebies and Weekend Happenings

Fresh asparagus from the garden!! With the rain last week and the warm weather this weekend, you could practically watch the asparagus grow tall enough to pick this weekend. Looks like it will be a good crop this year!!While we were out and about this weekend, we found 2 more pennies for the found money jar. That brings us to a total of .91 cents!Coupons - free dog foodHair Care Aveeno® Hair Care Products free sampleStonyfield Yogurt - Organic Gardening - free organic gardening magazinemighty. small. - free sample of OB tamponsGorgeously Green - Special Offer from Mattel® free flower seeds for the first 1,000TENA Free Sample - free sample for menIt was so warm here this past weekend that the kids got to enjoy the pool at the local minor league baseball park. That is a rare happening in our area in April!Sunday evening, we stopped at a local ice cream hotspot and ate ice cream next to Michael Constantine. He starred in "Room 222" and was in movies like "My Big Fat Greek Wedding".

Fish ice

5.5

Eat this on May,5th

and eggs and bean cakes

Farmers market,or super market?

Today I went to farmers market.Inorder to make Integer,the seller added one more,with which one I wasn't pleased,so I choose another one by myself;at this just time, she changed my commodity without my notice.Because I found that the number changed,I WAS SURE she did it.

I tell the truth,she shouted at me:"four eyes dog"

SHIT,I only responsed:"Tricks"

Modern business

2.9 yuan a packet, 126g,
8 secret-made plums, 3-layer paper

longnose catfish

better with preserved red pepper

sweet and little chilly

Thick soup!

Breakfast

For weekend

Pepquino melon

Pepquino melon, watermelon is a smaller than 20 times the ordinary small melon, 3 centimeters in length and weighing about 5 grams.

Clear Skies 2 now ready to dock on your computer

For those of us EVE Online players - or just fans of great machinima - who have been patiently waiting for Clear Skies 2, the wait is over! Ian Chisholm and his crew have managed to crank out Clear Skies 2 in amazing time, offering up yet another exciting adventure in the dangerous space of New Eden. As with everything awesome that we want omg right now - the load on EVE Files is insanely high right now. May want to consider using the torrent for the moment, if you can. In the meantime, while you're waiting for the download, may we suggest you check out the trailer for Clear Skies 2, or perhaps our exclusive interview and behind-the-scenes look at the making with the creator! If it's still going after you've checked all that out, there's always the bloopers from the first Clear Skies, which are made of extra-special awesome. [Thanks, CrazyKinux!]

What's for Breakfast??

I usually have a cup of milk or two with a piece of wheat toast. Then I have an English muffin sandwich from smart ones. It consists of two egg whites thin piece of Canadian bacon and fat free cheese it is really good.It is not like Macs English muffins but I don’t want that fattening thing lol. It may taste good but its not good for you. So what do you usually eat for breakfast?

Work in Progress

I'm working on a novel that's approximately one third finished. I will now post the first chapter. If you enjoy the tease, feel free to say something encouraging for me to read while I finish it. The current expectation is that this tale will be available at least as an ebook when it's complete. Wishbone is the erotic fantasy tale of a young gay prostitute from a cold rainy port town who meets a customer who is not human. He begins searching for the acceptance and love that he never received from his own race. The opening chapter is 3.7k words long and not safe for work. Wishbone Chapter 1. For Sale by Lauren P. Burka Wishbone's accustomed alley smelled like fish, but to be fair, so did most of his customers. The only light spilled from the Royal around the corner, where the beer was cheap yet so foul that Wishbone couldn't bring himself to drink it. The alley, off of a street that passed between the docks and the warehouses, was not well-traveled during the evenings. Wishbone could rely upon two or three other boys who worked within in shouting distance to come running if a customer gave him trouble. Lane kicked like a cart horse, and Kestrel (who only passed as a boy only if he wore makeup on his wrinkles and kept to the shadows) could use the knife he carried. The crowd that spilled from the Royal's narrow front door swirled as a covered coach and pair nudged around the corner. There were no arms painted on the coach's sides, but graceful construction and beautiful matched pair of bays spoke of money. The Royal's clientele moved towards the little coach. Then, realizing that the glass-shielded coach lamps did them no favors, they scrambled back from the illumination. The gleaming horses' hooves slipped and sparked on the cobbles, but neither the coach nor the man driving it seemed lost on the narrow street. The gray-cloaked coachman snaked the driving whip gently over one mahogany flank, indicating, perhaps, what he might do to any who impeded their progress. The lamps were bright enough to lay bare Wishbone's territory all the way to the end, and he was not pleased with the exposure. The coach halted opposite the barrel Wishbone used for a seat. The bays pricked their ears and glanced about in disapproval. The door opened, and out stepped a swirl of black: a cloak like folded wings, a hat, gloves, boots, and layers of fine cloth that reflected or absorbed the faint light, whispering of money. He was tall. That much could be seen through his enveloping clothes. He moved with easy balance over the slick cobblestone way. The cold made his breath into a jet of vapor. His hair was thick, curled, and dark with tiny gleaming flecks of gray. What could be seen of his complexion was darker than usual, like a heavily-tanned sailor's. His eyes were colored like violets and the pupils slit up and down. Wishbone shivered. Did the gloves conceal fingers with extra joints, as rumor said? A fragrance emanated from Wishbone's guest. musky and spicy, as if a predator beast had slept in a bed of rare herbs, the musk was detectable even over the foul air of the alley. Unlike every other customer who had come to Wishbone, this one appeared neither ashamed nor furtive. "You're a shih-aan," said Wishbone. "And you are a human," said the shih-aan. He smiled, revealing the point of a fang. "I offer you my hospitality tonight." Going home with a client could earn Wishbone more coin and a nicer place to sleep. But whores who left the relative safety of the docks for the wealthier parts of town did not always return. And what could his friends do then, tell the city guard? And he'd heard stories about what shih-aan did to humans. Plenty of men would swear they knew of someone who'd been gutted and cut into steaks by one of the demon creatures. If you pressed them about it, though, it always happened back during the war, and there were soldiers who had collections of shih-aan ears taken on the battlefields of Feras-aan. Since the treaty a few shih-aan had always lived in Bronlyn Harbor, trading in fine cloth, building ships and not, generally, eating anyone. Still, there were stories. Wishbone knew he should decline. On the other hand, storms had kept the fishing boats to harbor for the past three days, and the sailors and fishermen were saving their coins for hot stew and beer. Wishbone's purse was flat. What the inhuman customer might do to him was theoretical, whereas his fate at the hands of the dock patrol if he didn't have bribe money tomorrow was certain. Gloved in black velvet, the shih-aan's fingers touched Wishbone's cheek. He swallowed. "What is your name?" asked the shih-aan. "Wishbone." "You may call me Sir," he said, smiled, and named a price so high that bargaining was unthinkable. For so much coin, the shih-aan could call himself King Rendel the Third if he wanted. Mesmerized, Wishbone followed him out of the alley. The cloaked driver held the coach door for him as if he were someone important. Sir followed him inside and latched the door with those impossibly graceful hands. As the carriage negotiated the narrow streets between the dock and the Hill, Wishbone tried to relax into the seat and act like he did this sort of thing every day. Sir clasped long-fingered hands upon one knee and appeared to doze. Wishbone tried not to stare, but kept glancing under his lashes at the demon who had bought him for the evening, looking for signs he had made a irretrievable mistake. The carriage door opened in the secluded courtyard of a detached, two-story house with a garden gone dead for the season. Lamplight brightened windows on both floors. Stone gargoyles lurked amongst the cornices, casting disturbing shadows into the trees. "Inside," said the shih-aan. They entered though the front door. A servant bowed and took the shih-aan's cloak and hat. Young and male, he had mahogany skin and black hair, exactly the same color as the bay horses. His ears were slightly pointed. He was strikingly handsome, and Wishbone wondered why, with such a dish at home, the shih-aan fished for meals down by the docks. "Good hunting, tonight, Sir?" asked the servant in passable Bronlyn tongue. Sir lifted the servant's chin with one finger and kissed him shamelessly on the mouth. The ardor and the fearlessness of that kiss went straight to Wishbone's loins. The two spoke for a moment in a tongue made all of sibilants and liquid trills. The shih-aan patted Wishbone on the shoulder. "Follow Terefar. He will guide you to a bath." Sir turned his back and mounted the stairs, disappearing upward past a painted landscape and a gilt-framed mirror. Wishbone glared at Terefar, daring him to say a word about how he smelled, and stifled a tiny prick of jealousy inappropriate in a whore. The servant dropped his eyes, took up a candle from a claw-footed table, and opened a door. Wishbone hurried after him towards the back of the house. The bath room had a tiled floor and a half-filled sunken tub. A stove against the back wall held three steaming kettles. Terefar lit a lamp that hung from a wall bracket and emptied the kettles one at a time into the bath. "Please," he said, and pointed to a tray of soaps and oils, a robe hanging on a hook, slippers, and a pile of towels on a little table. "Leave your clothes here. They will be returned." He spoke hesitantly, as if he had to think before pronouncing each word. Wishbone waited until Terefar had closed the door before he stripped down and dipped a toe into the bath. The water was pleasantly warm. He slid in and grabbed for a bar of soap that smelled of lavender. The soap foamed between his hands, and Wishbone slid it all over his body as the luxurious water soothed away the late autumn chill. He unbraided his hair and opened a tiny bottle of expensive-smelling oil. Ducking his head under the water, he scrubbed his scalp with the oil. Dirt and dead hair floated on the water's surface. By then the bath was beginning to cool. He climbed out and picked up one of the towels. He dried himself completely, then wrapped the plush robe around his body and stuck his feet in the slippers. There was a wooden comb, a razor, and a tooth stick on the table beneath a mirror. He worked the comb through his pale hair until he'd got most of the tangles out, then set it back in a braid. His thin beard hadn't re-emerged since the last shave two days ago at the public baths, so he ignored the razor. Wishbone looked at himself in the tall mirror. The public baths had mirrors too, but usually he was in too much of a hurry to take in the details of his person. His face was thin, as was the body hidden in the oversized robe, and an old scar made his upper lip look crooked. His eyes were a pale blue, not exotic and green like Lane's. With his hair tied back, his ears stuck out. He undid the braid, toweled his hair dry, and used the comb to straighten the part. Finally, he made use of the tooth stick, which tasted of cloves. Opening the door, Wishbone found Terefar waiting with his candle. "Follow, please," said the servant. He turned without waiting, and Wishbone hurried after him, down the hall, and into the kitchen. An enormous iron stove radiated heat, warming the air and the stone floor. Copper pots hung in ordered rows from hooks on the walls. Rows of little bottles with unreadable labels filled the shelves. A bent old woman with skin and ears like other servant's was placing a plate and goblet on the table. But for her exotic looks, this could have been any well-appointed kitchen. The plate held slices of beef cut thin and laid out like a fan around a small mound of mashed parsnips. The food was hot, though the meat was pink and bloody on the inside. It tasted pleasantly of pepper. He ate every scrap before taking up the goblet. The wine was cool, honey-colored and sweet, as unlike the sour beer he drank at the dockside taverns as the sea was unlike well water. Wishbone swallowed it down and felt the warmth penetrate his insides. "You are finished?" asked Sir's pretty servant, who had stood behind his chair the whole time. "Then come with me." They passed up a narrow back stair to a carpeted hallway. The walls were covered with heavy tapestries woven with pictures of human lords and ladies at the hunt, in their gardens, dancing. Terefar knocked on one of the doors, waited for an answer, then opened it and ushered Wishbone inside. Wishbone expected a bedroom. Instead, this looked like a drawing room. Sir lay back on a brocade-covered lounge chair, reading a book. Freed from the hat, his curled hair spilled down past his shoulders in a thick fall of darkness. The small amount of skin that showed glowed a burnished tan in the light of the roaring fire. The door closed behind Wishbone with a click that made him jump. Sir smiled, this time showing both canines, so long and sharp that Wishbone wondered how he shut his mouth without puncturing his lips. Wishbone noticed the coils of rope on the floor next to Sir's chair. They worried him. "Your name is not a common one amongst your people," said Sir, marking the book and placing it on an end table. "Tell me how you acquired it." Wishbone tugged the robe more tightly around his body and looked away from Sir's inhuman face. "There's a child's game. The breast bone of a goose or a turkey is shaped like a bow. One child grasps each end, and they make wishes. Secret wishes. Then they pull on the bone until it breaks. The child with the biggest piece gets their wish. There's a trick to it. If you let the other child pull while you hold your end steady, you almost always get the bigger piece. I used to win all the time and my little sister would cry and tell my father I'd cheated. He patted me on the head and called me his Wishbone." Sorrow like a physical blow to Wishbone's breast came with the memories of his father calling him something else when he stumbled on Wishbone and Athel the smith's son behind the barn. He mastered himself, but it appeared that the shih-aan's predator eyes missed nothing. "What did you wish for?" asked the shih-aan. Wishbone shook his head. "It might still come true." The shih-aan tugged his gloves free and fanned his fingers so that Wishbone could see the extra joints. "Perhaps even tonight. Remove the robe." Wishbone untied the belt and let the robe drop to the floor. It felt decadent to be naked. Even in warm weather his alleyway business was transacted half-clothed. Only a rich man could afford a fire like this in his private parlor. "Turn around." Wishbone wondered if the shih-aan liked what he saw. How did a skinny dock whore measure up to the well-groomed, exotic creature he had met downstairs? "Spread your legs. Bend over and part your buttocks with your hands." Shivering, Wishbone complied. This wasn't what he'd expected at all, and he kept the agreed sum to mind as he displayed himself in this ridiculous manner. The fire-lit air stroked his arse-hole, still damp from the bath. "Your obedience pleases me," said Sir. "You may approach." What a pompous ass, thought Wishbone. But his intended retort died as he turned around and saw that pointed smile again. He was exactly where no whore wanted to be--in a private home on the Hill, naked, with a pile of rope and a client toothed like a bay shark. The shih-aan placed a pillow on the floor next to the lounge chair and directed Wishbone to kneel upon it. Sir clasped his warm hands at the small of Wishbone's back, holding him still while he leaned over to press his lips against Wishbone's throat. A line of kisses burned across Wishbone's collar and up the left side of his neck. He squirmed, then sank his face in the shih-aan's dense hair as the tongue-tip probed his ear, painting it in little spirals until the pointed tongue reached the center. The touch brought to mind other, more intense penetrations, but offered no hope of release. Wishbone moaned in pleasure and confusion, drowning in the velvet-clad limbs and rich scent of the shih-aan's body. Teeth caught his ear lobe and bit down. Startled, he tried to pull backwards. The arms tightened. The shih-aan was at least as strong as any human who had ever before embraced Wishbone. "I will not injure you," Sir whispered into his ear. "But you are wisest not to struggle." The shih-aan brushed his lips against Wishbone's. There was no hint of stubble, and Sir's face was as smooth as a young girl's. He ran his tongue under Wishbone's upper lip and held it in his teeth. Fear and arousal mixed deep in Wishbone's belly, each enhancing the other. Wishbone found himself drenched with curiosity over what Sir hid beneath his clothes. Would there be extra nipples, as the rumors said? Did Sir have pubic hair like a man's? Fur on his body? Was his cock long, or thick, or both? Where would he want to put it? Wishbone's own cock stirred as the shih-aan's clever fingers stroked his body and his imagination. Sir's tongue slid deeper into Wishbone's mouth, while those fingers pinched his nipples. Wishbone felt himself sag helplessly in the shih-aan's arms. He leaned his forehead against Sir's knees while the long, long fingers combed through his hair. Taking both of Wishbone's hands in one of his, Sir pulled him up and over his lap so that his arms dangled on one side of the lounge chair and his legs on the other. Wishbone felt the fingers covering every inch of his skin from nape to buttocks, pausing to trace the pale lines of ribs, the knobs of spine. His cock, pressed down against the side of the chair, went as stiff as a mast. This was nothing like the brutish couplings of his trade. As much as he loved being filled hard and fast by another man's cock, there was a potent sweetness to the shih-aan's demon hands. The fire warmed his rear while his face remained exposed to the room's cool drafts. If it weren't for the growing pressure in his loins, he would gladly have enjoyed being stroked this way until dawn. One long finger came to rest at the very base of his spine. Wishbone squirmed, but a fist tangled in his hair, holding him fast. The finger stroked his cleft until he bit his lip to keep from whimpering. The hands retreated suddenly, and Wishbone heard the sound of a jar opening. When the finger returned, it spread something cold and silky into the cleft. The finger made lazy circles, pausing occasionally to penetrate the opening by no more than a single joint. Wishbone must have made a sound because the shih-aan laughed. "What a greedy little arse you have," he said. "Yes, Sir," mumbled Wishbone into the side of the lounge chair. The shih-aan slid out from under Wishbone and turned him onto his back. While he was too stunned by pleasure to think of protesting, the shih-aan bound his right wrist to his right ankle and his left wrist to his left ankle so that his knees were folded up and his legs spread wide. His buttocks rested at the edge of the lounge chair. Sir rolled up one sleeve, dipped his fingers into the jar, and reached down between Wishbone's parted legs. A log in the fire popped, and his eyes glowed red. This time the slight penetration by a single finger made Wishbone cry out. It was delicious, but it wasn't enough, not even when a second finger joined the first, and then a third. He kept his eyes on the shih-aan's and tried to beg for more that way. Sir's fingers pressed against Wishbone's insides in a way that a cock never had. There had to be more, and if Wishbone didn't get it, he thought he would die of disappointment. And more he got, though not as he expected. Sir opened him wider with one powerful hand. His arm muscles bulged in his dark velvet clothes. The supple, greased fingers stirred Wishbone until he couldn't help but lift his hips and force himself down onto them. His insides rippled, and Sir twisted, and then, much to Wishbone's surprise, the entire hand slid inside. Wishbone panted. Sweat streamed down his armpits. His defeated ring kissed the shih-aan's wrist. Wishbone had never felt so completely filled, or so helpless. Their eyes were locked together, and Wishbone felt as if that gaze was also a penetration. The fingers curled into a fist that rocked inside him, forcing clear fluid from his stone-hard cock and wordless cries from his mouth. Sir smiled down at Wishbone, lips parted as if to drink in his cries, eyes slightly unfocused with concentration. His canines gleamed. Without breaking the rhythm of their coupling, the shih-aan eased himself down on one knee and bent his head forward so that his long curls spilled over Wishbone's loins. Hidden behind the curtain of hair, his breath caressed Wishbone's tight, furry scrotum and the length of his cock. The tip of a pointed tongue traced the head. Wishbone felt lost. He'd been more in control bent over a barrel than trapped by a hand that filled him and a tight set of lips that threatened to empty him. Then Wishbone felt the fangs against his shaft, and fear blossomed in his heart. He panicked. His body tensed as his legs kicked against the ties. He tried to pull himself backward away from the penetrating hand, but the knuckles jammed against his wide-stretched ring. He groaned, this time in pain. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. Sir released his cock with a flourish of tongue. "I warned you not to struggle," he said from behind his hair. "I gave you my word that I would not hurt you. Do not anger me by causing me to break it." Wishbone inhaled, feeling the tears spill down as his lower body unclenched by tiny degrees. It was not the threat that made him do it, but the steel in the voice. Sir spoke as if it were impossible that he could be disobeyed, thus Wishbone gave him obedience. The merciless hand slid deeper in, forcing Wishbone open as if it could split him in two, and the fingers with their extra joints did things to him that no human could achieve. Lips brushed Wishbone's cock which had grown, if anything, even harder. Sir's other hand worked on a nipple that tightened between the tips of his fingers. Wishbone felt the tight sheath of Sir's throat take him in while the tongue probed the root of his cock. The whole time the fist that impaled him continued the motion like a boat riding low waves before a storm, pressing each time against the secret places inside Wishbone's body. The room filled with Wishbone's rising cries and the wet sounds of sucking. When the storm broke, Wishbone screamed fit to bring the dock patrol down upon their heads, if they hadn't been locked in a house on the Hill, in a room with no witness but the fire. His nether muscles fought to expel the hand that only pressed more deeply and wrung more desperate spasms from his cock, spilling the sea into the shih-aan's mouth. When Wishbone's throat had gone all hoarse from crying out, when his cock had emptied and his muscles had turned to jelly, Sir slid his hand free and untied the binding on Wishbone's legs. He opened a dresser drawer and bought out a towel that he used to wipe down his hand and Wishbone's arse. He took a soft woolen blanket from the same dresser and laid it over Wishbone's body, then placed another log on the fire. Wishbone was asleep before Sir left the room, and only woke at dawn when Terefar brought him his clothes and a small leather purse stuffed with coin.Originally published at Lauren's Tales.

How to Integrate Business Rules into a .NET Application

Innovations Software Technology Abstract: This Visual Rules Screencast will show you how the Visual Rules Execution Server can be used to integrate business rules into .NET applications. We will create a simple C# client by calling a Web Service for a business rule called "Pricing". The rule is taken from the example ruleset "Movie Ticket Pricing" available within the Visual Rules Modeler. It calculates the price for a movie ticket based on seat, day of week and some other input data. In the Visual Rules Modeler, our first step will be to deploy the rule project as a Web Service to the Visual Rules Execution Server. Next, we will implement a Web Service call in Microsoft Visual Studio Express. Total running time 06:45 minutes delicious digg dzone

For Menstrual

Today my belly got the menstrual pain,and didn't have lunch.

Instead,I only ate one preserved egg,one corn,a glass of cereal,and a glass of milk.

1.58M,40kg. ANY ADVICE?

Hockey has nothing to do with Fedora

(Edited to include gratuitous taunting of Josh Boyer, and to appease some of my more sensitive readers. Bless their hearts.)This post has nothing to do with Fedora -- except that I know several members of the Fedora community who are hockey fans, and who are excited now that their teams are in the Stanley Cup Playoffs. (Sorry, Toronto fans. I hope it's now clear to you that Paul Maurice was *not* your biggest problem.)I am dropping the gauntlet. Hockey Challenge! And I, Hurricanes fan, call out, in particular: Adam Williamson, Canucks fan! The Sedins... (sensitive phrase redacted), but the Stanley Cup is NOT FOR YOU!Tom Callaway, Bruins fan! Cam Neely ain't walking through that door! Bobby Orr ain't walking through that door! The Stanley Cup is NOT FOR YOU!Larry Cafiero, Sharks fan! When you win the President's Cup, it means that your division was full of (sensitive phrase redacted)! If my neighborhood kids played roller hockey against the Coyotes ten times a year, they'd win the President's Cup too! The Stanley Cup is NOT FOR YOU!Jon Stanley, Rangers fan! Sean Avery? Really? I'm afraid your only chance of seeing Stanley's Cup is by (sensitive phrase redacted), sir! The REAL Stanley Cup is NOT FOR YOU!Josh Boyer, Red Wings fan! Bring it on, front runner! Rooting for the Red Wings is like rooting for GM... it used to be a pretty sure bet, but not anymore! The Stanley Cup is NOT FOR YOU!So here's the bet I propose.Of the above-listed teams, the supporter whose team wins the most games in this postseason shall receive, from all other participants, a fine locally produced alcoholic beverage, of the loser's choice.Furthermore, if any of the above teams shall find themselves hoisting Lord Stanley's Cup, all participants in the wager shall find a ballcap, and shall change their hackergotchis to reflect the wearing of aforementioned ballcap, for a period of no less than one month.Who will accept my wager? Who stands ready to pay tribute to the Category 5 Hurricanes?Oh, also, I'm growing my playoff beard, starting now.

tissue paper fun

tissue paper + white glue + notecards = fun! With a few simple materials you can make adorable thank you cards or invitations to share with your girl. Aubry and a couple of friends made some (dressed as princesses, of course!) a while ago and they became birthday cards. Simply tear the tissue into small pieces (approximately 1/2" to 1" pieces). Spread some glue onto the card (a 3" spot works well) and lay the tissue pieces on top, overlapping them. Once dry, spread a thin layer of glue on top of the tissue for a shiny look. Once I took a good look at this post, I realized that Aubry is absent from the pictures (OOOPS!), but I do promise that she was present and accounted for and wearing a princess dress. It is all about the style, you know! Happy crafting!

Got milk? (advertisement)

On the road

Today we spent a lot of time on the road. We headed to Lethbridge, AB to celebrate Trevor's grandma's 95th birthday. She is still looking good and moving around by herself. Her only major issue is that she needs to carry around a tank of oxygen, but that's pretty much it. It was a 2.5 hour drive there and we stayed at the party from 2pm -4pm and then went out for dinner with the rest of the family and headed back home. It would have been nice to have been able to stay for the weekend, but tomorrow is my 10km race. The weather is going to be wonderful at 3 degrees Celsius, which may seem low to some, but considering last year when I raced it was -25 degrees Celsius this is like a heat wave. Hopefully everything will be okay. My eating habits have been anything but ideal lately. At work I seem to always run into the junk food and I just need to say NO and back off and head back to my bag of carrots.Stay tuned for tomorrows race results...I am just hoping to get under an hour...we'll see what happens : )

Low GI

Voted Off The Island

It's confession time. Confession I: I started writing this the day the news was released of the impending demise of Pleasure Island.It suddenly seemed like everyone was writing about it and new information was coming in from all directions. I went back and rewrote it. Then I rewrote it again...and again. Then, I put it on hold for awhile so I could take a fresh look at it. Deb Wills has been quite indulgent, allowing me to stew and fret over this darned blog entry for over two weeks now. Even so, I find I don't have a lot to add to what's already been written all over the web. So...I'll take a run at it from my own personal point of view anyway. Please feel free to roll your eyes and hit the Back button to read something far more interesting elsewhere on this wonderful website. This promises to be a snoozer. You've been warned! Confession II: I was never a frequent visitor to PI. On occasion, I would visit the Adventurer's Club, or maybe 8 Trax, but that's about it. I don't drink, and I'm not what one would call a good dancer by any stretch of imagination. I went through my "Nightclub Phase" back in the late '70's and early 80's, so I was already over it by the time PI even opened. I enjoyed the AC shows, but it still wasn't incentive enough for me to attend as a regular like some of my friends. I do, however, have many fond memories of being at PI with my family and friends. They can take away the island, but they can't take away those memories and impressions. I dare them to try! Confession III: I certainly won't miss Pleasure Island in it's current state. The Pleasure Island that I will miss, and have been missing for some time, is the original Pleasure Island--The PI that was built and designed based on the very elaborate backstory of Merriweather Adam Pleasure and his family, and that's where I'll begin. But first...An editorial comment since so many of my readers have asked my opinion of the closing of Pleasure Islands six clubs: It seems that the Walt Disney Company always releases bad news late on Fridays. I'm not sure if that's pure coincidence, or if it's planned to allow angry people to cool down a bit before they run to their computers to dash off a scathing message, or maybe to give Guest Communications a couple of extra days to respond. My guess is one or both of the latter, but either way, on the last Friday in June, we were given the shocking news that all six clubs on Pleasure Island would be closing this fall, before the end of Disney's current fiscal year. The press release informed us that this was due to "guest demand" for more dining and shopping opportunities and that the area would become more family-friendly in keeping with Disney's family image.Whether that's truth or spin or bits of both, I do not know, however I suspect the changes had to do with both guest demand and money. They're not talking about the money part, and what company would? I wouldn't expect them to. However, it's been obvious for some time that Pleasure Island was not the big draw it once was, and it doesn't take a math genius (which you know I am not,) to figure out that the clubs were not pulling their weight in Downtown Disney, and attendance had dropped. The release went on to mention a "bold vision" for the area, which sounded to me to be about as bold as my local mall. Maybe the person who wrote the release missed the really "bold" parts of the vision and left them out in error? One could only hope. Time will tell... So, let's talk about a truly bold vision; the one that the original Pleasure Island was built upon. We have to go back to the beginning to do that, to the time of Michael Eisner and Frank Wells and the kick-off of "The Disney Decade". The Disney Decade was a time of enormous growth at the company, and this included expanding the WDW resort. New hotels were planned and built, a new theme park emerged, and an entertainment district for adults was on the drawing board. According to some accounts, this was to keep guests from wandering off property to local venues like Church Street Station in Orlando. All of those old enough to remember the daily skywriting over WDW advertising Church Street Station, raise your hands. All of those who thought it said "Surrender Dorothy" raise your hands. I thought so... Anyway, back on track. I've heard some delicious insider gossip about the original plans for the entertainment district which were allegedly put forth by Eisner himself, and which, after false starts, met an untimely and expensive end. I wasn't there, and I don't personally know if it's true, but I have no reason to doubt my source, either. Plus, it really makes for an interesting piece of background for what came next. According to this story, Imagineering came riding to the rescue, and eventually developed an elaborate back story for everything that would be incorporated into what came to be called "Pleasure Island". A dear friend of mine supplied me with several pages of official press releases for PI from 1986. One, dated July 21, 1986, reported that Michael Eisner himself announced the plans for Pleasure Island while aboard the Empress Lilly. According to the release, construction was slated to begin in August 1986, although my other source says that it had allegedly already begun under the original aborted plans. This would certainly explain the short window between the announcement and the commencement of construction, but I digress. Of particular note in these old releases is that they attribute the creation of PI to guest demand for more nightlife! Guests are of a fickle nature, apparently, as in 1986 they wanted more nightlife, and in 2008 they want less nightlife. Go figure...Also of note to Major Geeks Like Me, Village Lake, often mistaken for Lake Buena Vista, which is actually behind the Buena Vista Palace, is referred to as "Buena Vista Lagoon". Deeper into the releases are hints about Pleasure Island's back story. (Yes, I know I keep mentioning the darned thing, but keep getting sidetracked and haven't told you what it is. I'm getting there, I swear!) According to the releases, the island originally belonged to early 20th Century entrepreneur and adventurer, Merriweather Adam Pleasure. I bet you youngsters thought it got its name from Pinocchio, didn't ya? Well, it didn't, and this is just one of the wonderful details of PI that got lost along the way. So, anyway, the legend goes that Pleasure set up his sail-making empire on the island, it attracted other sea-faring adventurers, and eventually, an entire town grew out of it. The buildings on the island included a fireworks factory, an electrical plant, Pleasure's family home, his exclusive club, and much more. Pleasure still pined for adventure however, and was tragically lost at sea, leaving his empire to be run by his lazy sons. The sons allowed the empire to disintegrate, and eventually the island and its buildings were abandoned. In the 1980's, the island was rediscovered, and the Imagineers re-invented the island and its buildings as an exciting and imaginative entertainment district. Much has already been written recently about this, so I won't go into excruciating detail about what each building became, but suffice it to say that each time a club or restaurant was replaced over the years, a little piece of the back story, as well as bits of Disney history were lost. Why? Because whatever new venture appeared had nothing to do with the original story. Once upon a time, there were actually plaques and "historical" markers on each building explaining what they were in Pleasure's time. The last one I remember seeing was at the Portobello Yacht Club, which was supposed to be the Pleasure family's home. Portobello is soon to become a restaurant with a Tuscan theme, so if that plaque is still there, it won't be for long. The Adventurer's Club, Pleasure's personal club and arguably the crown jewel of PI, will soon be gone too. Designed by Joe Rohde, ths incredibly unique, clever and innovative (even after 20 years!) building--This piece of irreplaceable Disney Imagineering history--along with its wonderfully talented cast, will soon be lost forever, and that, my dear friends and readers, is what's making me terribly sad. Can anything be done to stop it? Probably not, however, if you feel strongly about it, it can't hurt to express your feelings (in a polite manner) to the people who have the power to do something. I'm aware of several online petitions that have sprung up, but the sad truth is that petitions don't work. If you want to be heard, write letters. E-mails are not as effective. It's too easy to relegate them to a file somewhere or to hit "delete". Spring for a couple of stamps and send your messages the old-fashioned way. This ensures that a person has to handle it in some manner. Addresses for Disney officials can be found here. Even if it ultimately doesn't help, it definitely won't help if you don't make your feelings known now, and you and I will both feel better that at least we gave it a try. If you're in WDW before the last week in September, try to make time for a visit to the Adventurer's Club. Take a close look at the building, the theming and the props. Loudly applaud the cast for a job well done, and thank them for all the years they've put in entertaining us. Raise a final Kungaloosh! to Merriweather Adam Pleasure and his unique island, for it, like Pleasure, will soon be sailing off into the sunset. Many thanks to my Sooper Seekrit Sources. You know who you are, and you are, quite simply, the best. Anita

I LOVE PEPPER

Spaghetti and Meatballs

Or is it......?APRIL FOOLS!!!!!!!!They are actually cupcakes! Here's how to make them:Arrange iced (with slightly yellow tented frosting) vanilla cupcakes on a platter - stack them - make sure its not too perfect.Put more pale yellow icing into a plastic Ziploc bag and snip off the tip ever so slightly. Squeeze icing out to make "noodles" (your hands will hurt).Place some Fererro Rocher (hazelnut truffles) randomly over cupcakes to be the "meatballs".Whisk seedless strawberry jelly to get clumps out and make smooth. Pour over cupcakes and truffles as the "sauce".FINALLY, Grate some white chocolate over it all for some Parmesan topping :)I got this idea from the adorable book Hello, Cupcake!

Fried rice

core, cucumber

Spain’s government

Spains prime minister brings in a new finance ministerSECOND-TERM prime ministers often feel the pull of the world stage. In Spain, toothough Jose Luis Rodriguez Zapatero, re-elected a year ago, was slow to follow the trend. That was partly because he was one of George Bushs least favourite European leaders. In a frenzied few days, however, Mr Zapatero has made up for it, with appearances in six countries from Chile to Turkey. He eventually carried off his prize, when Barack Obama declared that he was glad to call him a friend.Unfortunately, Mr Zapateros frantic week abroad coincided with trouble at home. Immediately after he stepped off the plane in Madrid, he announced a cabinet reshuffle. Out went the heavyweight Pedro Solbes, the veteran finance minister who was praised during the election campaign as the man to trust on the economy. In his place appeared Elena Salgado, a seasoned if low-profile technocrat. Ms Salgado, slight but tenacious, has held tough ministerial posts at health and public administration. Few, however, expected her to be given the finance hot seat.

Cheap Eats in the East

My strong affinity with the East side of Singapore has alot to do with the fact that I was raised and schooled here. But for most part, it is the sheer delight in the abundance of cheap and good food easily available in this area that has my head pounding in ecstasy. Okay, perhaps that is a rather strong metaphor but I will stand by it and ask that you check with another Eastie. I can assure you that it is most likely the appetising buffet of sweet, sour, and hot that gets our blood pumping more than anything. Couple that with a rich culture and breezy location, and you know you have a winner.Granted that the East is not so small, you must be wondering which part of this Eastern side I am talking about. Well well well, that photo above should be ample enough, if you do live in this area.That my friend which you see above is my latest new favourite cheap food find. This fine gem sits at the junction of East Coast and Joo Chiat Road. Its exact location is 125 Joo Chiat Road, in a coffeeshop called D'Orange. Dot discovered this place last week when her colleague brought her to try it. Her workplace is right smack in Katong so exploring the great eats there is really convenient. It's a blessing I say, because I get to benefit as well. I've tried several great eats there due to her recommendations and all have turned out to be really satisfying and lip-smackingly good.Every person should have at least one foodie friend who loves food just as much as you do. That way, you can always count on stumbling on great food finds even when you aren't looking. :) Dot is obviously a foodie like me and as said, most of the time when we chill out, it usually surrounds not just fun adventures but also delicious outings. Yesterday was one of them.After mass ended at OLPS, we met and headed to 125 Joo Chiat Road, the place that's about to become my favourite la mian and xiao long bao dig. Known as Dragon Delights, this small little stall is tucked right behind Mary's Tau Kwa Pau stall and a famous hokkien mee & char kway teow stall. I was quite surprised to find out about this place because truth be told, I've never bothered entering the coffeeshop though I've walked past it a million times. Shame on me I say. This is what happens when you become too comfortable with your current food choices and don't bother sussing out other potential good eats. Curiousity never killed the cat, it only made it happier. I should learn.Okay, on to the la mian a.k.a. pulled noodles. Till this day I still hold a deep fascination for the way pulled noodles come together. Pulled dough never gave you silky slim threads of noodles, at least that was what I thought when I used to be young and ignorant. I used to tell myself that it was all just a simple trick. Perhaps the chef just wanted some theatrics so when in an open kitchen, he would play with balls of dough, stretching it out, long and wide, slamming it onto the countertop one time, two times, three times following a rhythem and then when no one's looking, he'll hide the 'play' dough and use pre-cut noodles to cook and serve. Can you believe how silly that is? No wonder I never really was good in science. If only I knew that how magical flour can be. Pulled noodles are far from a figment of my imagination. They are a real treat, especially when done well. Like these:They look like tagliatelle which is one of my favourite pastas especially for pairing with thick sauces. This bowl here is actually zha jiang mian, which means 'fried sauce noodles'. This is a popular chinese dry noodle dish that's loved by those looking for something with a salty bite. It's usually paired with normal thin pulled noodles but Dot ordered the flat version as seen here because we both think it goes better with the thick meat sauce.Not only were the noodles done al dente, the sauce itself can be compared and referred to as an Asian version of bechamel sauce. It sounds far fetched, but just the texture and flavour of the minced pork and sauce itself kind of made me to a double-take. For a split second, I did almost think I was slurping up Italian pasta. You know a sauce is good when you find yourself wanting to lick every morsel off the bowl, throwing away all thoughts of hygiene and potential embarrassment. These noodles were cheap too. At $3.50 a bowl, I must say it is a steal, especially since it was a generous portion.And if you think the pulled noodles were the main attraction, you're so wrong. Ahem, shall I present what is by far the cheapest xiao long bao ever:These cost us only $2.80. Okay, so they are cheap. Your natural instinct would of course be, 'Okay, for that price, it's cheap, but is it good?'.'YES', would be my immediate answer.Go try some if you doubt me.The silky skin folded tightly, yielded neat folds that were thin and uniformed:Gently prodding each dumpling, I slowly transferred one to my spoon carefully, lest I waste the precious caramel-brown coloured broth held in by the thin and slightly buoyant skin.Once it slid into my mouth, I closed it, preparing for the warm flood as my teeth sank into the dumpling, breaking the delicate skin in the process. Yes it was good and yes it was $2.80 very well spent. We could have ordered several more portions if only we hadn't gotten a plate of hokkien mee and some tau kwa pau already.Just for you, I broke one dumpling in my spoon to show the beauty of such well-made xiao long bao:Let me guess, you certainly wish you had a steamer full of piping hot xiao long baos in front of you now eh? Unforgettable dumplings I'd call them. This would be my new xiao long bao place from now on. It's a commitment I'd gladly take on. My compliments to the chef. I hear that they've been here for quite a while and I actually saw several proudly displayed food awards. Quite surprising however, that the stall was not packed and super busy. Hey, I'm not complaining. It's good this way I guess, so I can easily get my fill of xiao long baos without a long wait.Here's how the stall looks like:As you can see, it's very much no frills. Everything is said in the food.The xiao long baos all wrapped and ready to be steamed:If you think that was the end of our Sunday lunch, you are so wrong. We were indeed full from our meal but not full enough to want to skip dessert. When it comes to dessert, we always have appetite for it. Of course we went with something light, something icy and again, a new find as discovered by Dot. This one's really close to her office. Called Summer Frost, it's actually kind of like an ice-kachang place, except that they use flavoured milk ice. The flavours offered are champagne grape, peanut, black sesame, green tea, and milk. It comes with a topping of your choice and only cost $2.I chose black sesame and paired it with nata de coco:While Dot got the green tea one and paired it with chocolate chips:We really liked the combinations we chose. My black sesame ice was flavoured with the right amount of milk and black sesame and the nata de coco added a lovely bit to it. It was refreshing. Dot's green tea ice was great too. I was rather surprised that I could really taste the green tea. I think they used matcha powder. The chocolate chips given was great, and I think they were dark chocolate, and wasn't too sweet. These desserts are a great end to any meal, especially on a hot day.If you thought our lunch was delicious, you should hear what we had for dinner yesterday: fried or luak (oysters) and ikan penyet from Changi Village. Sorry I don't have photos for those dishes. We were really hungry from cycling all the way from home. These days, my favourite hobby is cycling to a food destination for a satisfying meal and then cycling back home or to another place that grabs my nose. Yes, did I tell you how sometimes I let my nose lead me to my great food finds? But ah, that's nothing new.What about you, how do you stumble onto your food finds? What are your sources? Feel free to share them with me, and of course, if there's any other place that you love and think that I would like as well, drop me a note.