More inane and meaningless stuff that really ticks me off:
Several months back, the FDA released a new food pyramid. This one, instead of having building blocks (big honking block of grains on the bottom, smaller ones of fruit and veggies next, still smaller meat and dairy next, itty bitty fats on top) has different colored stripes for each of the food groups. Theoretically, it's supposed to be easier to understand.
So now they've introduced the food pyramid for kids, with a lovely new interactive rocket ship game. Kids drag foods into their "fuel tank", drag activities into their "activity battery", and when they've built their menu and activity for a day, try to see if they can blast off and make it to Planet Power. Kinda dorky, but in a fun way.
So what ticked me off? The food selection in the kids game! For breakfast, if you eat cereal, your choices are a toasted oat cereal or a sugary cereal. OK, I'm sure 90% of the kids out there eat one of those two, but my kids happen to eat either Wheat Chex or Mini Wheats! For dinner, the only, repeat ONLY veggie choices were broccoli or a spinach salad!!!!! What about squash? Green beans? Asparagus? Beets? Cauliflower?
OK, yes this is a minor thing. But, if the point of the game is to help kids make healthy CHOICES about their diets, shouldn't the game offer them some.....choices? Not to mention the fact that the stupid game is put out by the people that created the pyramid, which means THEY HAVE ACCESS TO THE FLIPPIN' DATABASE IT'S ALL BASED UPON!!!!!!!! It's not like they'd have to hire temps to key it all in, it's already there!!!!
Sheesh.
Of course, the real lesson in all of this is programmers should never be allowed to visit interactive web sites......
If you're interested, the URL for the game is: http://www.mypyramid.gov/kids/kids_game.html
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Monday, September 19, 2005
It may be a cliche, but it's surprising how much someone you've never met can affect you.
For years now, every fall once the weather was cool enough and the humidity was right, a woman in Michigan named Patricia Anderson would begin making peanut brittle. I suppose she gave away lots to friends and family, but all I know for sure is that she always made sure two batches made their way to Jeff at work. Her husband is a train collector, and collects K-Line stuff. She also always sent word that Jeff was not to take both batches home, but to make sure that Sherman (a colleague) got some too!
Jeff always passed the peanut brittle on to Sherman, but he always brought some home, too. I love peanut brittle in general, and this was perfect brittle. The mix of flavors, the consistency, the crunchiness... everything was exactly as it should be. I was always happy to share with my family, since they love peanut brittle, too, but sometimes I ate all of our share before Dad or Kathy could get over to have some. I didn't mean to, but it was that addictive.
Even without ever meeting her, I felt like I knew Patricia. I knew, for example, that she took her brittle making very seriously. Sometimes the brittle was late, because the weather wasn't right. She used the same spoon, pot and pan to make the brittle year in and year out. One year the spoon that Patricia had used for years broke; she was afraid the brittle would be affected the next year. From my perspective, whatever replacement spoon she found worked just as well as the original, because the brittle was as good as it had always been. As someone who uses the same pan to bake biscuits, to the point of occasionally taking it with me on vacation, I understand and applaud that sort of single minded devotion to one's cooking accessories!
Patricia Anderson was diagnosed with cancer this summer, and died 32 days later. She left behind a family that includes her husband of 41 years, Charles, and children and grandchildren. She also, though, left behind who knows how many people whose winters were a little more special because of a box of peanut brittle in the mail.
For years now, every fall once the weather was cool enough and the humidity was right, a woman in Michigan named Patricia Anderson would begin making peanut brittle. I suppose she gave away lots to friends and family, but all I know for sure is that she always made sure two batches made their way to Jeff at work. Her husband is a train collector, and collects K-Line stuff. She also always sent word that Jeff was not to take both batches home, but to make sure that Sherman (a colleague) got some too!
Jeff always passed the peanut brittle on to Sherman, but he always brought some home, too. I love peanut brittle in general, and this was perfect brittle. The mix of flavors, the consistency, the crunchiness... everything was exactly as it should be. I was always happy to share with my family, since they love peanut brittle, too, but sometimes I ate all of our share before Dad or Kathy could get over to have some. I didn't mean to, but it was that addictive.
Even without ever meeting her, I felt like I knew Patricia. I knew, for example, that she took her brittle making very seriously. Sometimes the brittle was late, because the weather wasn't right. She used the same spoon, pot and pan to make the brittle year in and year out. One year the spoon that Patricia had used for years broke; she was afraid the brittle would be affected the next year. From my perspective, whatever replacement spoon she found worked just as well as the original, because the brittle was as good as it had always been. As someone who uses the same pan to bake biscuits, to the point of occasionally taking it with me on vacation, I understand and applaud that sort of single minded devotion to one's cooking accessories!
Patricia Anderson was diagnosed with cancer this summer, and died 32 days later. She left behind a family that includes her husband of 41 years, Charles, and children and grandchildren. She also, though, left behind who knows how many people whose winters were a little more special because of a box of peanut brittle in the mail.
Thursday, September 01, 2005
Peter made a tackle in football tonight!!!!!!! Peter is not, shall we say, an overly aggressive child. We apparently did a tremendous job during his formative years of teaching him to be nice and kind and gentle; sadly, we then decided to sign him up for organized sports! Note to the childless: if you want your future children to be athletes, raise them to be aggressive little animals!
Anyway, we've been encouraging Peter to be a little more aggressive, and today his goal was to put his shoulder into someone's tummy, wrap his arms around the guy (Peter tries to tackle by swatting at the other player's jersey), and BRING HIM DOWN!!!!! :) Apparently, he did it! He was VERY excited when he came home.
Grace had a red-letter day, too. There was some mild trauma at After-School, because apparently Ebony's parents picked her up too soon (Ebony is one of Peter's friends that Grace has latched onto). But, I took her to buy her gear for Ballet class, then we went for a special dinner together, then ice cream afterwards. I had to go to Lowe's afterwards to get something else for my interminable painting project. When we were leaving Lowe's, there was a plump, white-haired, white-bearded, fairly jolly looking man putting his cart away. He gave kind of a Ho, Ho, Ho chuckle, looked down as we passed, then said, "Bye, Grace. Be good!" Needless to say, she was all aquiver!
Anyway, we've been encouraging Peter to be a little more aggressive, and today his goal was to put his shoulder into someone's tummy, wrap his arms around the guy (Peter tries to tackle by swatting at the other player's jersey), and BRING HIM DOWN!!!!! :) Apparently, he did it! He was VERY excited when he came home.
Grace had a red-letter day, too. There was some mild trauma at After-School, because apparently Ebony's parents picked her up too soon (Ebony is one of Peter's friends that Grace has latched onto). But, I took her to buy her gear for Ballet class, then we went for a special dinner together, then ice cream afterwards. I had to go to Lowe's afterwards to get something else for my interminable painting project. When we were leaving Lowe's, there was a plump, white-haired, white-bearded, fairly jolly looking man putting his cart away. He gave kind of a Ho, Ho, Ho chuckle, looked down as we passed, then said, "Bye, Grace. Be good!" Needless to say, she was all aquiver!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
