An Open Letter To The Hotel Industry

WASH MORE BEDCLOTHES.

That's it, pretty much. We stayed at two hotels last weekend. The first, in Clarksville, TN, had the standard (nowadays) hotel fare of the bed with a plain flat sheet over a flimsy mattress "pad" and then another flat sheet on top of that, with a ratty blanket and one of those you-only-see-them-in-hotels cheesy bedspreads.

First of all, what happened to fitted sheets? Is it THAT much trouble to make up a bed with a fitted sheet? Are you paying the housecleaning staff SO much per hour that the extra 20 seconds it would take them to secure a fitted sheet to each bed cuts dramatically into your profit margin? Is it a matter of streamlining the laundering/folding/sorting process? Because, really, you MUST know that the stupid two-flatsheets-serving-as-top-and-bottom-sheets system is way substandard from a guest comfort standpoint. And honestly? When that sheet creeps up, down, or sideways, as it is going to if you so much as walk BY the bed or look at it funny, and we have to see that BARE HOTEL MATTRESS? Well, Hotel Industry, that skeeves We The Hotel Guest right the heck OUT.

The first thing I do upon checking in to most hotel rooms is to strip the bed of comforter/bedspread, blanket, and pillows, stash them in a closet or under a desk, and then make the bed up with my OWN bedding, which I have brought from home, putting as much of my own stuff between me and that rental bed as humanly possible. Because we know, you see, that you don't wash those things unless you absolutely HAVE to, and the fundamental truth of life is that, universally, OTHER PEOPLE ARE NASTY. And thanks to "Dateline," their black-lights, and my own personal neuroses, I'm passing along this hotel-hinkiness to my daughter, who, at preschool age, already knows that you can't sit on the floor of the hotel room to watch TV unless you spread a towel on the carpet first, and that to stray off that protective terry layer with any part of your person is tantamount to touching RED-HOT LAVA.

Now here is where I go all gushy with praise for one of your proud members, Hotel Industry. Look, ye, unto The Hampton Inn. Particularly relevant to this post, the Hampton Inn Bellevue, just outside of Nashville, Tennessee. Imagine, after our experience in the first hotel described above, the wave of gratitude and delight and relaxation that washed over me when I first noticed the sparkling, fluffy whiteness of all the bedding in our Bellevue room, and then when I read the following words, typed out on the little information card propped on the clean, clean pillowcase(emphasis--and implied delighted squealing--mine):

"The new Hampton bed is comfy, cozy and clean all over. Everything from the lumbar pillow (!!) to the overstuffed duvet (!!!) to the custom-made sheets and pillow cases have been laundered fresh especially for you."

They didn't even have to brag about the gloriously FITTED bottom sheets on the beds, and the actual, REAL mattress pads underneath, because we could SEE them. And you know what we COULDN'T see, Hotel Industry? A SKANKY MATTRESS. I'm not saying there wasn't one under there, but you know the American public--out of sight, out of mind. It's a step in the right direction. And I can tell you, I rested better in that room for the short time we were there than I had for days, because I wasn't waking up every little while, tugging frantically at a flat, non-fitted sheet, worrying about mattress cooties and how close I was to being covered with them.

And here's a thought that should hit you where you live, Hotel Industry: We're not made of money, my little family, and when we travel, we do whatever we can to keep as much of our money in our pockets as we possibly can. We choose mid-range hotels, usually just nice enough to keep us out of the scary neighborhoods. BUT. Given the option of two hotels, side by side, identical in every way, aside from the bed linens, with one hotel being appointed like our Clarksville hotel, and one appointed like our Nashville-area hotel, WE WOULD HAPPILY PAY A SIGNIFICANTLY HIGHER ROOM RATE FOR THE CLEANER, BETTER-APPOINTED BEDS. Do you hear that, Hotel Industry? And that Hampton Inn room in Bellvue, that was like a $70 hotel room, so we're not talking The Four Seasons, here. But we would EASILY, and with smiles on our faces, fork over up to, say, 50% more for a room cleaned to that standard, over the comparable, but sloppier room. That should really be enough of a difference to more than make up for the increased housecleaning resources you'd have to expend in order to maintain such a standard.

Oh, and on a tangential note, Hotel Industry: When you assign someone a room that is one of a pair of adjoining rooms, but the party on the other side of those double-doors is UNKNOWN to the guests they're "adjoined" to...TRY to assure that the doors on EACH side of that double-door arrangement do, indeed, LATCH.

And one other thing, this time addressed to Families Travelling En Masse For The Purpose Of Convening At A Gigantic Family Reunion Complete With Matching T-Shirts And Barbecue: Please, please, PLEASE, for the love of Pete's sake, do NOT pool your resources among family members in order to dump anywhere from six to twelve very loud and rowdy children, sans adult supervision, into one hotel room together while you escape to other, blissfully peaceful adult-only rooms, especially if that room is one of a pair of adjoining rooms, and the people in the other room are strangers to you who do not love your six to twelve very loud and rowdy children, particularly their repeated attempts to break into said adjoining room. That's just not right. (And Hotel Staff: When a guest calls to complain about the non-latching door and break-in attempts described above, the correct response to complaining guest is NOT, "Um, I think they're gone right now.")

The only other suggestion I have to make to the Hotel Industry that could improve everyone's hotel experience is that every attempt should be made to let hotel guests, for example in places such as Nashville, know when they are in such delicious proximity to divine blogger-peeps the likes of The Blogger Formerly Known As Lucinda and BusyMom. Because when you get back home and find out how close they were, and that they already even know each other and hang out and stuff, it will cause you emotional pain to think you missed them by so little.

I Am So Glamorous, Or, Me And My Neti Pot

Ever since the precedent was set by this post from the incomparable Anne Glamore's "Tiny Kingdom", I have been wracking my brains to come up with a similar unflattering personal-grooming procedure that I could take pictures of and post for the entire internet. My brains being small and thereby easily-wracked, it didn't take long to come up with the answer: The Washing Of The Sinuses! What could be more interesting than seeing someone with no makeup and her hair pulled back in a most severe manner go through her bedtime routine of pouring salt-water through her head? And to know that she does it every day?

When you live in the CDC's "Most Allergic Place In The U.S." you learn all the pollen-fighting tricks. This is my best one. Secret weapon. It looks crazy, but when there is a thick, snow-like coating of yellow pollen over the entire world, and your dogs go outside black and come back in with yellow legs, trust me when I say that I know whereof I speak.

Usually, I would just make my own saline solution from iodine-free sea-salt and warm water, but my Mom recently discovered the SinuCleanse Nasal Wash System, and GOSH, I'm lazy, so it's perfect. Here's what you start with:You simply empty the contents of the packet into the Neti pot,and add warm water.Stir until saline solution is completely dissolved; just a few seconds. Honestly, the little plastic stirring-paddle is unneccessary if you have, um, a finger. The use of your own God-given digit also allows you to feel when the salt is dissolved.Now you're ready to stick it up your nose! See how pretty you look! And remember to breathe through your mouth, the better for to not drown. Tilt your head to the side opposite the nostril with the Neti-nozzle wedged into it, and start to pour.I have these mutant tiny nostrils, so I have to jam the thing pretty far up there to achieve the desired "nostril seal." You probably would not have this issue. My husband swears, as did my father, that the reason the women of this family have congestion problems is because of our allegedly tiny sinuses. He should talk; He only has ONE sinus. The other one is calcified, or some freaky thing. I nearly drowned him while trying to convert him to the Neti Pot because of this. Looking back, that's kind of funny (only because he survived, you understand). The flow through the sinus cavity starts as a trickle, then just flows straight through. And I swear it feels good.Then you clear your nose by blowing it gently, and repeat the process with the remaining nostril. What you see here is photographic documentation of the cleansing of my #2 nostril, as evidenced by the large salt-water stain on my shirt. That's what happens when a right-handed person attempts to use a Neti-pot with the right hand while simultaneously trying to photograph the process with the left.
There. Don't you all feel educated? And better-looking? But seriously--respect the Neti Pot, because it can change your life. Or at least the way you breathe and how often you get sinus infections and colds. Go forth and cleanse.

Yep, I'm A Voice Geek

Is it just me, or do both of these characters share, not the voice, but the identical cockney accent?
I have found a list of men who lent their talents to voice the Geico gecko, including Kelsey Grammer, who is credited as the first voice of the gecko, but nothing--not one word--about who is voicing the new, cockney fellow who's out to recruit more geckos for Geico. I never could resist either of these characters pictured above, and I have to tell you, even with Spike, it was mostly about the accent. It just perfectly suited who he was. Same with the gecko. So, can anyone find out who is voicing the current incarnation of the Geico mascot; the one extolling the virtues of "free pie and chips?" (Admit it, you're laughing to yourself about the free pie and chips.)

And while we're on the topic of accents and exposing my utter innermost dork, there is one more British voice from which I would buy just about anything, and certainly believe anything, and that is a voice with a highly cultured London accent. It is the voice of this man, James Dyson:I can't tell you the amount of mocking I've endured when my husband has caught me running back the TiVo again and again just to hear that voice repeat a phrase such as, "The bags and filters were hopelessly clogged." When you can make something like that sound sophisticated, well, buddy, you're onto something. I swear I can hear both 'g's in the word 'clogged' the way James Dyson pronounces it.

Oh, and he's a genius, you know. That helps in the geek-appeal. Not just the superhero vacuum cleaners, but things like the Ballbarrel, Sea Truck and others.

And he's an artist. Well, an artist of the deliciously nerdy engineering sort, anyway. People, he can make water flow perpetually uphill! Can you do that? All right, so that's not entirely accurate, but he can make water appear to flow perpetually uphill, and that's pretty good. And if that's not enough, there's his book, Against The Odds, or at the very least, this neat little downloadable game.

So there you have it. I'm a sucker for British accents and big giant brains. I'm not ashamed. Now go watch the gecko do "the robot."

Gone To The Dogs

What's next--"Where The Red Fern Grows" Flea Collars? "The Yearling" deer minerals? What am I talking about? All right. I just got back from Kroger (grocery store chain) a little while ago, and the aisles and end-caps and free-standing displays were overflowing with huge, bright-yellow bags of--I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP--"Disney's Old Yeller Dog Food." I kid. you. not. I saw one woman with a hundred pounds of it in her cart, and several other people buying it. And then I saw the price. $9.99 for the 50-lb. bag. Criminy.

Do you know what's in dog food that can be sold for 20 cents a pound, and still be profitable? Well, I checked the ingredients, and I can summarize for you. Mainly corn, something dogs don't really digest that well in the first place. And then a bunch of stuff swept up off the grain-mill floor after the edible grain has been processed, and the really gross stuff scraped up from the meat processing plant that couldn't possibly be sold any other way. Throw in some red dye and some carcinogenic BHT (also used as a rubber stabilizer, I think--or is that ethoxyquin?) as a preservative, and you've got yourself a heck of a dog food. And OH, the resulting crap you will enjoy, both in volume AND in texture, not to mention aroma! Because that stuff is coming out of the dog pretty much the way it went in, and pretty close to the same weight out as in, I'd imagine. Blecch. Raw diet, peoples. Or at least a quality processed food. If its best feature is that it can feed your dog for a nickel a day, trust me--keep shopping.

And besides, if I'm gonna buy a dog food (presuming it's NOT made of garbage) marketed on the image of a rabid movie-dog, I want it to be CUJO brand dog food.In the rabid movie-dog department, Cujo, in my opinion, has it all over Old Yeller. While Old Yeller was originally a thieving, egg-sucking cur who got into constant trouble and finally came around and protected his family and wound up paying with his life, blah, blah, blah...Cujo was a good dog his whole life; a boy's faithful pet. It was no fault of his own that, while minding his doggy business, he got bitten by a rabid bat and went all, well...Cujo. And since we had Stephen King writing segments in dog-perspective, we know that he felt confused and bad about what was happening to him. I tell you, people--Cujo is not the villain he's been made out to be, but a victim! A tragic figure! I want CUJO brand dog food!!

In other dog-related news, you can go to the website of the Westminster Kennel Club and view streaming video of not only the "big" winners from the Groups and Best In Show (gotta love that "Rufus"), but the breed judging from every single breed. Click here for the videos of the breeds in the Working, Terrier, Non-Sporting, and Toy groups, and here for the videos of the breeds in the Sporting, Hound, and Herding groups. The breeds are listed, in case you're not sure what group the breed you want to see is in (or ask me; I'll tell you!).

Also, this site has several candid shots from Westminster that are just wonderful. Browse through them, and then tell me that a show dog's life is anything but fun. These pooches are having a great time! And naturally, I'm attaching the picture, an AP photo, of the miniature poodle Best of Breed winner, "Chanel," kicking back and waiting for Group judging to start, with her handler, Leslie Simis. Chanel was also the variety winner of our national breed specialty in 2005. She's a pip.
Finally, a sad note--Vivi, the outstanding champion whippet who was leaving New York with a First Award of Merit to her credit when her crate was dropped and broke open in the Delta terminal, still has not been found. If you live anywhere within a few miles of JFK airport, keep your eyes peeled for Vivi. When last seen, she was wearing a black wool coat, and I hope to goodness she still has it on, and is found alive and well soon. Her owners have vowed not to leave New York without her. She was last spotted near the marshes in Jamaica, Queens, and this is what she looks like.

Dual Purposing

Bella caught sight, for the first time, of the logo on the package of bands I use to put her hair up. This is what is pictured on the bags, and yes, they are the bands that are made for wrapping up long show-poodle hair: The Daughter was NOT amused, and the sight of the picture on the bag drew this response: "Heeeeeeeyyyyy...these are for DOGGIES!!!"

Dang it. Now I have to go buy real ponytail-holders. We're hoping she won't catch on as quick about the crate we keep her in when we go out. (Note to overzealous indignant moms of the internet: we do not actually crate our daughter. Except at dog shows. No, seriously, never. Just like the drivewayside alligator pit, this is a complete fabrication. She did, however, teethe on Greenies.)

Last Minute Gift Panic?

I'd like to recommend a favorite cause of ours, begun and headquartered right here in Little Rock, Arkansas. I'm speaking of Heifer Project, International. You can give ducks, chickens, sheep, cows, rabbits, goats...even water buffalo! Best of all, on short notice, it's perfect--they can send an adorable animated e-card--INSTANTLY--to the person you're giving in honor of. There are several to choose from. We used this one: A Gift Of Hope.

Your gift can be anywhere from $10 upwards. So you can give a gift of, say, a lamb...or "a share" of a lamb. It all adds up, and if you read Heiffer's philosophy, you will see that this truly is "the gift that multiplies."

Haute Cuisine, With Toddler

I'm here to tell you, it CAN be done! On Mom's birthday, we celebrated at our very favorite restaurant, one I've raved about here before, chef extraordinaire Peter Brave's "Brave New Restaurant." This is a fabulous place, and pretty fancy-schmancy--it's not overly pretentious, but it's the kind of place where Alex and I can drop $100 on dinner with ease. And we don't drink, so...that's just for food, chil'ens. And it's worth every penny, the food's that good. Peter Brave is...well, my culinary hero.

Obviously, we don't get to go often, so we don't want our experience (or anyone else's) wrecked by the Wrath Of She Who Is Capable Of Sonic Screaming At A Moment's Notice. This very topic was just discussed on a friend's blog recently, so I was acutely aware of the various pitfalls of including a just-three-year-old in an evening of fine dining. We also had her eight-year-old cousin Grayson with us, but he is fortunately well beyond the age at which he would suddenly go Tasmanian Devil or spit directly ON us.

We've learned something. The secret to the success of such a venture lies not only in the hands of the child and her parents, but also in the savvy of the restaurant owner, management, and staff. This is not a booster-seat place, but I have a feeling that had we needed the "boost," they'd have come up with something. First up, the quick service upon our arrival. We all had something to drink and our orders taken swiftly. Then, greatest of all, and to our surprised delight, before appetizers or salads were served, our children were presented with beautifully arranged, complimentary fruit and cheese plates. Genius, I tell you! GENIUS!That, my friends, is a happy child eating a grape, instead of a restless child regaling the other patrons with her Very Special, Never-Sung-The-Same-Way-Twice arrangement of "Santa Clause Is Coming To Town." This is not a "kid's menu" place. All the better, because we had all the options in the world! Bella had some not-on-the-menu angel-hair pasta, with Basil Shrimp and fresh seasonal vegetables, and there was much proclamation of, "yummmm." Grayson had fresh breaded chicken cutlets and rosemary-roasted potatoes, and was also quite happy. He enjoyed Vanilla-Bean ice cream for dessert, while Bella and I each polished off a chocolate creme brulee'--a specialty of the house. The chef was even nice enough not to "cap" hers, and no one got all snooty about it! And see? We did not leave a giant swath of destruction in our wake! A perfect evening! Well...close. Right? You can't have everything. Oh, and in case anyone is worried, I was totally prepared to whisk my little darling out of there at the first sign of noise or trouble. Fear not, if you see us at a fine restaurant with you some evening.