Pre-Ramble:  You can’t swing a bag of gold bullion around here without having some top-tier philanthropist knocking at the door and imploring you to give away half of your wealth. The July 5th cover of fortuitously named Fortune Magazine features the smiling faces of billionaires Warren Buffett and Bill and Melinda Gates along with a plug for the “$600 Billion Challenge.“

Brainchild of legendary Berkshire Hathaway money-magnet Buffett, the Challenge invites the nation’s billionaires “to pledge to give at least half of their net worth to charity, in their lifetimes or at death.”  Names like Eli Broad and David Rockefeller are on the ask list along with media moguls Ted Turner, Michael Bloomberg and Oprah Winfrey. Between the assets of these folks plus the other 395+ super-rich Americans (a la Forbes 400) … we’ve got the potential for quite the pot of cash, … sums the likes of which would “change the face of philanthropy as we know it.”

Long and the short of it.  The thinking behind the scheme is laudable. Buffett explains that while he has not yet made a commitment of time, which he feels is ultimately far more valuable than money, his contribution of Berkshire Hathaway stock certificates “ … can command far-ranging resources [which can] benefit others who, through the luck of the draw, have received the short straws in life. “ 

The obvious thought here is, if you’ve got $1 billion, half-a-billion is probably going to be sufficient to pay the bills and have enough left over to have some fun. So, where exactly is the line between the fortunes conferred by long straws and the lot of the fortune-challenged short straws set?  Where is the tipping point between having enough to live on and experiencing a true sense of need? 

Mortgage payments …  From a personal standpoint, I guess I never really thought about my net worth in terms of “wealth.” Sure, I feel plenty fortunate, blessed even, with the rich and varied lifestyle that my money allows, but I never really considered it “drive-me-across-the-estate-to-the-polo-ponies” kind of wealth.  When I think of vast amounts of disposable wealth, I imagine those closets you’d see on Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous … the ones with thousands of shoes all perfectly lined up on racks. My shoe inventory will fit at the foot of the bed with room to spare. I’m just sayin.

The challenge then, in the lifestyles of those of us who are not so rich and famous, is vastly more confounding — Just how much is enough?  How much of your “personal wealth” could you realistically consider parting with?  What amount of your earnings is really just gravy? For those of you on the less charitably-inclined end of the continuum, how little can you get away with giving away without looking or feeling cheap, greedy or heartless? 

The Take-Away: I don’t have an answer for any of those questions … and I don’t have $1 billion to test the theories. For what it’s worth, the prose of the philanthropic pledge itself offers Warren Buffett’s humble and generous rationale,

The reaction of my family and me to our extraordinary good fortune is not guilt, but rather gratitude. Were we to use more than 1% of my claim checks on ourselves, neither our happiness nor our well-being would be enhanced. In contrast, that remaining 99% can have a huge effect on the health and welfare of others. That reality sets an obvious course for me and my family: Keep all we can conceivably need and distribute the rest to society, for its needs. My pledge starts us down that course.”

Pre-Ramble: There is a lot of buzz and quite a few books out there that promote the value of “branding” yourself as a way to attract recognition and business. I just don’t know about that. As a dedicated “intuitive thinker” who delights in the pursuit of random stuff, the idea of nailing myself down to a single focus is more than a little scary.

Well, so, by ”branding,” of course, I don’t mean scorching your backside with a hot metal “K.” I mean representing yourself to others — who you are, what you do and what you are about in a specific and consistent way.  Beyond a title or symbol, a brand is a holistic summation of the character of a person or entity — its personality or reputation.

Brands of businesses are all around us … the bold FedEx letter forms, the Nike swoosh, the little blue Twitter bird, the Target … target, the Apple … apple … They all have a distinct look and feel … they all have a unique differentiated point of view.  Alina Wheeler discusses the many dimensions of “brand”  in Designing Brand Identity (2003) …

There is substantial evidence that companies whose employees understand and embrace the brand are more successful. What began as “corporate culture” under the auspices of human resources is fast becoming branding, and the marketing department runs the show; … each touchpoint is an opportunity to strengthen a brand and to communicate about its essence; … brand identity increases awareness and builds business.” 

I get it. I can see the value there. The more people recognize you/your brand for what you “do,” the more likely they are to seek you out when they need someone to do that for them (… or with them … to them … whatever).  I am so all over this in the business world. I believe that businesses who are able to articulate a clear consistent message about who they are and what they do are ideally positioned to attract meaningful (and prosperous) business opportunities. So, I guess it is no small stretch to apply this same principle to the individual.  At any given time, in any given place, you as an individual may be called upon to perform as the brand that you are.

I guess what that means is, that at any given moment ”you” are a potential business … or a potential business opportunity.  By establishing a consistent set of attributes, skill sets, a look and a feel for yourself, … you are constantly marketing yourself in the world marketplace. I guess that’s the big hairy deal about the “new social media” venues – Facebook, LinkedIn, Twitter. In launching a Home Page, or a Profile, or even a blog (!), you are, for better or for worse, putting yourself out there as a brand. Yikes – no pressure there.

The dilemma I have is, if in order to successfully be “a brand,” you have to forsake the enticing array of random very-cool-stuff that lurks around so many corners, it that worth it?  Creativity and its kissin’ cousin, innovation, are made from the very stuff of random collisions/conjunctions of things and ideas. So, does a guy have to sacrifice the capacity to think big, out-there thoughts for the privilege of having a successful business or personal brand?  (How do the folks whose brand is that they Think Big Out-There Thoughts make that work?)

The Take-Away: Doomed.  If I need to be together enough to align my appearance, environment, family members, pets, possessions, activities, attitudes, disposition and every confounded twittering thought in my head with my designated “brand,” …

… JUST SHOOT ME NOW.

Pre-Ramble:  In another place in time that missive might have been directed at a carefree young child while strolling through a sunny pond-side park somewhere.  But actually, it was me chastising myself for kicking what I realized too late was not a small round rock in the center of our driveway.

Crap. Literally. All over the toe of my favorite Donald Pliner black microfiber wedge. Ordinarily, I would have been way more enraged by this … (I have a hot streak that doesn’t suffer foibles lightly), but I was far too distracted by a rabbit hole to engage with the goose poop in any meaningful way.

What started this jag is what always happens … I read a dangerously interesting article in one of my known vices – the NY Times, WSJ, Vanity Fair or a random snippet in the margins of some newsfeed, and before you know it, I’m careening down a slippery slope of anxiety-fed adrenalin.

It happens in bookstores too.  Surrounded by all of those thought-provoking perspectives and images, … it’s like I just want to HAVE IT ALL, … instantaneously, … in my head to keep and use and know.  And yet, at that exact moment, the idea of actually reading any of it is overwhelmingly exhausting.

Well, so, anyway, today I was working through a stack of newspapers when I came across a story about mommy-bloggers.  You know, those newly minted stay-at-home mothers who have so much frantically idling intellect that they sit in their kitchens, children at their feet, singlehandedly spinning day-to-day experiences into a living and breathing online entity. Turns out there are a whole bunch of them out there — it’s a virtual community. 

While I might spoof on these women at times, the truth is, I am secretly envious of them.  I covet the opportunity that they have to observe, ponder and preserve that particular time in their lives, both for themselves and for their children. I also covet the cutting-edge legitimacy that they have established for themselves, a place where they can actively participate in a greater social context while still standing front and center to raise their children. They get to publically indulge and leverage the motherhood experience in a way that was never available to my generation of moms … (or if it was, I was never aware of it).

Unlike many in my generation, these gals don’t appear to be conflicted about their stay-at-home status in the least. In fact, they’re in your face with it.  Beyond a quick soccer-mom chat over the back fence, mommy-bloggers are able to reach out and exchange their thoughts and ideas with people all over the world. Theirs is a unique and global clique built around the shared experiences of sleepless nights, strained organic peaches, and favorite plug-ins. They have catchy taglines and logos, … elaborate mastheads and Fan Pages, … they use cool Twitter-speak and worship their webmasters, … They are simultaneously “out there in it” AND at home doing the warm-cookies-and-milk-after-school thing. It’s awesome.

The Take-Away: Alas, have I come to the party too late?  My fabulous children are grown and nearly gone.  All of those cherished child-rearing moments have gone by — un-blogged.  … While I am no longer compelled to cry over spilled milk, I can still raise a sippy cup to the awesome mommy-bloggers out there and let them know that if they need any child-rearing advice, (… “Don’t kick goose poop in your good shoes …” ), I hope they know where they can find me.

Pre-Ramble: If there are two things that deserve our attention as we head into 2010, it’s neuroscience and cake mix. I’m talking about recent scientific breakthroughs as they relate to middle-aged mind power and the astounding news that General Mills’ Betty Crocker has 50,000 fans on Facebook.

Brain science first — According to NY Times health editor Barbara Strauch, many long held views around the decline of the aging human brain have been reconsidered.  The propensity to forget names and be easily distracted from tasks has now been reframed to suggest that … (what was I talking about? … )

“… What is stuffed into your head may not have vanished, but has simply been squirreled away in the folds of your neurons.” 

I’ll own that I have gotten more squirrely with age, but I’m pretty sure my neurons are more rumpled than folded.  New research claims that brains, with just a little strategic maintenance, continue to develop through and well beyond middle age.  The trick is to “keep brain connections in good shape and to grow more of them.” Probably easier said than done. Apparently, every moment that passes unawares is an opportunity lost toward building and maintaining precious neural pathways. It’s a wonder more of us aren’t wandering the halls of the care center with drool on our cardigans.

It seems that, as adults, we have developed a series of well-worn pathways among the connectors/synapses in our brains. Dr. Kathleen Taylor, professor at St. Mary’s College of California suggests that these synapses should be “jiggled a bit” by confronting people, situations and ideas that are contrary to one’s usual fare.  We need to ”crack the cognitive egg and scramble it up” in order to create what Jack Mezirow, professor emeritus at Columbia Teachers College, calls a “disorienting dilemma” … a situation or phenomenon that causes one to “critically reflect on the assumptions they’ve acquired.” 

Snappy synapses – Well, if that’s the way this works, I must have the healthiest neural pathways in the Universe. Since the dawn of the digital age, I have been subjected to a daily assortment of “disorienting dilemmas” … word processing, email, instant messaging, texting, skyping, podcasts, paypal, google groups … and the barrage of confounding technological developments doesn’t show any signs of letting up. Social media of every ilk is clamoring for attention … Facebook, LinkedIn, … apps for this and apps for that … and the scariest thing with the cutest name – Twitter. Everybody is going on about how Twitter is revolutionizing the world, and if a guy wants to even try to keep up with society they should start sending uber-witty Tweets to a whole bunch of people ASAP. 

If she can do it …  Cut to Golden Valley, Minnesota where traditional marketing methods at the Betty Crocker test kitchens have given way to aggressive forays into the land of social media. Forget bake-offs and box tops … old-school Betty Crocker has a thriving Facebook page and an iPhone app that lets users check recipes and kibitz with top chef experts. 

… Betty Crocker!?!  No stagnant synapses there!  The perky gal in the apron has been operating on the cutting edge of technology since 1926 when her radio debut signaled the nation’s first cooking show. (The broadcast featured thirteen different actresses working from radio stations across the country and ran for twenty-four years.)

The Take-Away:  Heck! If she can do it, … I can do it!  Betty is keeping her synapses sharp by staying on top of new media trends. We can all take a page out of her book on that!

Post-Note:  Ok, so even though I am clinging to the outer edges of the technological footprint that God intended for me, maybe it wouldn’t kill me to tweak my tech-neurons a little bit more.  Setting up a Twitter account is probably pretty straightforward. I’m even thinking that crafting messages made up of no more than 140 characters could be considered fun …  … I guess the real dilemma is convincing myself that:

a) I have the time and inclination to stop what I’m doing several times a day to send out a pithy communique; and

b) I have the kind of noteworthy swagger that merits mass communication.  (Who besides Ashton Kutcher does really?) 

Am I ready to be tethered to a constant technology-based duty that is fraught with outside expectations?  (I will be the first to admit that I hid, sabotaged or otherwise destroyed my kids’ Tamagotchi nano-pets back in the mid-90’s.)  … Hmmmm …… maybe I’ll just have another piece of super-moist chocolate cake and ponder that.

Pre-Ramble: Every couple of days or so, I come across a piece of writing that is so poetic, insightful and clever that I wish I had written it. 

It’s usually something by James Wolcott in Vanity Fair, or Martha Beck in O Magazine, or anything in The New York Times Sunday Magazine.

Interestingly, at least to a wordsmithing wannabe like me, some of the funniest, or I should say “punniest” turns of phrase show up in the Wall Street Journal. Front page headlines, even those heralding weightly matters, are regularly laced with double entendre.  And now that the Journal has a sports page, they have virtually run amuck.

Take an article in Monday’s sports section about the controversy surrounding the decision made by the Federation Internationale de Natation (FINA), the governing body of competitive swimming, to ban “performance enhancing suits” (PES) or “supersuits” the fabric and fit of which “can improve speed, buoyancy and endurance.”

Now, I’m not a big swimmer. In fact, I don’t really care for swimming. … Ok, I loathe swimming … I don’t even like to get wet. That isn’t to say that I wouldn’t like swimming more if I could wear one of these sleek, spandex, full-length suits, especially if they come with a built-in control panel in the ab flab zone and can net me a couple of gold medals.

Anyway, this supersuit article (by Allen Barra) was just dripping with water puns, four of which I must share with you now:

From now on, FINA has dictated, swimmers will sink or swim in suits made of traditional textiles.”

The prohibition doesn’t take effect until January 1, 2010, but it’s already created ripples in the swim world.”

Sports purists counter that such arguments don’t hold water.”

[Even] for those of us with kids who don’t dream of Olympic medals, the FINA decision will have a trickle-down effect.”

The Take-Away:  Allen, I am not worthy. Even if I were to plumb the depths of my vocabulary, I wouldn’t be able to match the superior caliber of style, finesse and punsterismness that you demonstrate in your work.  

Post-Note:  It might be a stretch … and I might be in over my head here, but I’m not going to let the fact that I’m still wet behind the ears when it comes to writing dampen my enthusiasm.  Just because I’m an amateur doesn’t mean I can’t float the occasional bad pun or flip remark. (My only regret here is that I wasn’t able to work in the word “hosed.”)

Pre-Ramble:  Look out! As of yesterday afternoon, I am the proud owner and captain of my very own iPhone 3GS.  That’s right, mild-mannered, tech-challenged me is packing “the fastest most powerful iPhone yet”…  … featuring up to 32 gigabytes of storage, voice control, video recording, cut and paste functions, and a bunch of other cool stuff that I don’t even understand. 

Apparently, I now carry the technological equivalent of NASA, a Swiss army knife, and a concierge right here in my purse.  This multi-functional object works as a cell phone, text-messaging center, email access, Internet hook-up, gaming arcade, jukebox, restaurant guide, movie camera (and editing table), calendar, to-do list, directional compass, GPS unit, and ”virtual” coin flipper… it even has a backyard bird guide!  How on earth did I get through a day without this thing?   

As is the case with most every product released by Apple, the iPhone 3GS is as close to design perfection as you can get. Its sleek, curved styling and clean simple functionality are a wonder to behold, and the crisp, brightly lit icon buttons communicate so well that even the most tech-unworthy among us can summon up the intuitive gumption to grasp their meaning. 

Apple has elevated the shopping experience around its products to an art form.  The classy glass entryway and underground orientation of its premiere NYC location (shown above) evoke I.M. Pei’s Louvre Museum in Paris. Even at our local mall here in Minnesota, the Apple store has a unique and exciting atmosphere. You walk into the stark, but bustling, white, bleached-wood gallery/playground environment and are immediately greeted by the first tier of the Apple staff hierarchy, a chipper team of ”associates” in orange t-shirts. Once the assessment has been made as to the objective of your visit, you are upgraded to an associate in a blue t-shirt. (Our’s was named Drew.)

The tech-wizard will see you now … The guys (and gals) in the blue shirts (the tech-hip equivalent of a starched white lab coat), are young, friendly, laid-back and highly knowledgeable around all things tech. Techiness reeks out of their  pores. They have official ID badges on lanyards; two-way transmission ear buds; and wifi, pocket-rocket cash registers strapped to their belts. These combination brand evangelist, nurse practitioner, tech-wizards, flawlessly walk you through the pertinent points of their presentation, citing competitive advantages and nifty features, and emitting invisible rays of wisdom so deep they must be all but able to divine your most hidden thoughts. The overarching vibe we got from Drew was, ”you’re safe, you’re in good hands, it’s cool, and it’s all good.”

So, you decide on the couple of options available on the unit — amount of memory (16 or 32 gigabytes … apparently both are beyond a TON of storage capacity … my sales associate confided that even he, in all his uber-techiness, had trouble filling up the 16GB unit) and color (black or white … black seemed the way to go), and then you head over to the accessories wall … some particulars:

• While the unit comes with a charging cable and headset, you need some way to recharge it on the road.  The Griffin “PowerJolt” seems to fit the bill (we’ll see … my newbie phone still has it’s original charge). 
• An anti-glare film protector is also a must, to ward off 99% of the scratches, dust, dirt, smudges and fingerprints that could mar your pristine and inherently fragile touch screen. Comes in a two-pack.
• You also definitely want a cover – something grippy and bouncy, so when you drop the thing, it has some kind of chance at survival. My daughters recommend the “incase” brand slider case … pliable enough to hug the phone, but firm enough to retain it’s shape (some of the cases made out of the more “rubbery” materials will actually stretch out over time, becoming baggy and flopping off the edge of the phone … not good — too easy to bobble the unit).

So, there you are. A few clicks on the remote cash register, the grand swipe of the credit card, and you’re good to go!  I hope this has been a useful and informative play-by-play on the iPhone 3GS purchase process. Stay tuned for future posts on user-interface pointers, foibles, etc. …

The Take-Away: By far, the best part about the whole iPhone 3GS scenario was the tech-envy incited by my new toy in my beloved teenage children. I swear, I was floating a few gigameters off the floor as we left the mall, while my daughter trudged along, shaking her head all, “Mom, you have no idea how much stuff that thing can do …” as though I were some 95-year-old granny crawling out of the parking lot in a spanking new Maserati Granturismo S.  

… SO, WE’RE EVEN — beauty is wasted on youth, and cutting-edge technology is wasted on us old farts!

Post-Note:  Thanks Drew — great job – I’m off to leap tall buildings! … And, as I mentioned on the sales floor, should I have any little questions or issues, I’ll be sure to text you.

Pre-Ramble:  So, the miracles of modern marketing strategy aren’t always as miraculous – or as accurate — as we might hope. I’m thinking that perhaps our class action fears around stuff like Homeland Security, Big Brother, Google, and tracking cookies are unfounded. 

Just the other day I received an email from my BFF Amazon.com letting me in on a bunch of products that it was sure, in its omniscient e-wisdom, I’d be interested in.

When it comes to books, my buddies at Amazon are, more often than not, able to gather up a handful of titles that are vaguely relevant to items that I have purchased from them in the past. I don’t mind that. In fact, I have often responded to their suggestions with a spontaneous click to the Quik Checkout button. 

The other day however, it presented a collection of goods that were so off-base, it was laughable. 

Dear Amazon.com Customer — As someone who has shown an interest in cooking and home products, you might like to know about our Summer Sale on over 400 products … blah … blah …”

Among the array of ”cooking and home products” that had been assembled for my consideration were: the George Foreman 360 Grill, complete with 5 interchangeable grill plates; the Shun steel angled 6-inch utility knife; and the Rachel Ray 10-piece anodized cookware set in orange.  All of this would have been great, except that the item which I had ordered from Amazon that in all likelihood had triggered this series of cutting edge marketing communications was The Twinkies Cookbook (2006).

I know what you’re thinking — cooking at its finest, right?  And if the brightly colored Hostess logo on the cover doesn’t sell you, the cadre of gourmet recipes and user testimonials inside will have you scrambling for your PayPal password. As you can imagine, I had some real trouble trying to decide which delectable concoction I would like to make first.

• Twinkie Petits Fours – “I created this recipe in honor of my dad, using his favorite treats — Twinkies and chocolate. They are so good, and no one believes me when I tell them what they are.”  Barb C. from Bakersfield, CA … (I know I’d be incredulous.)
• Twinkie Sushi – “It’s nice to serve Twinkie Sushi at a dinner party on a Japanese tray with chopsticks. Your guests will laugh while they enjoy a refreshing fruity dessert at the same time.” Clare C. Baton Rouge, LA … ( Can’t you just hear the guests chuckling now?)
• Twinkie Smoothie – “This Hostess original recipe was created to commemorate Twinkies’ 75th anniversary. It’s best served parlor style with two straws!”  ( A good beverage is all about texture.)
• Twinkie Kebabs – “This was a spur-of-the-moment idea. I had leftover fruit, but not enough Twinkies to give each of the gals at my candle-making party her own. This recipe saved the day!” Dianne M. from Lakemoor, IL … (PHEW – disaster averted, Dianne!!)
• Twinkie Shortcake – “When my sister-in-law made this recipe for a family dinner, everyone thought she had worked her tail off in the kitchen. She shared the secret of this quick and easy dessert with only the women. Now it’s become our inside joke when we make it — the men think we’ve slaved away for them.” Debbie J. from Saint Augustine, FL … (Wink, wink … I know my stupid husband wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between traditional strawberry shortcake and a pile of cut up Twinkies covered in Cool Whip…)
• Twinkie Tunnel Bundt Cake – “I make this cake for special occasions and when company is coming. People love the surprise of finding the Twinkies hidden inside the chocolate cake!” Darlene C. from Piper Cove, MN … (A delightful “Gotcha!” moment to be sure … And, the Bundt pan itself was invented in Minnesota too!)

The Take-Away: I thought that ”Twinkie Cookbook” was an oxymoron.  Clearly not. In cyberspace, fashioning quasi-edible food matter into faux-food formats is considered cooking. Who knew?  Well, … until the next edition comes out, I’ll be out back grilling up some consumables on the George Foreman.

Pre-Ramble: One of my favorite friends is a jewelry designer. She has her own little business — if you can call that work. She gets to play with rare and sparkly gemstones all day. She has a brown leather briefcase that she carries around and it’s filled with all kinds of exquisite stuff.

Anyway, every year she goes to Las Vegas to a giant jewelry trade show… Christmas in May, really. Vendors from all over the world bring their jewels to trade and sell. This year she said that vendors were very conscious of the strained economic scenario, and had a much less stringent set of conditions around sales. She also said that this year, everywhere she turned, people were selling estate jewelry (code for used jewelry, often from people who are deceased) — specifically tiaras.

Tiaras?

Suffice it to say that, up until that point, the notion of owning a tiara, possibly more than one, was completely foreign to me. Beyond princesses, beauty queens, brides and four-year-olds, who actually wears tiaras? (And, I am rather stunned that I was able to come up with four categories of people just then, who would look totally normal in a tiara.)

According to renowned jewelry authority, Diana Scarisbrick,

“The tiara is the hallmark of grace and distinction worn for centuries by nobility and high society and favored by movie stars and modern brides.” 

Ms. Scarisbrick has written a book that “traces the history and social context of tiaras, as well as the fascinating succession of owners of some especially remarkable [pieces] … showcasing an astonishing range of styles, shapes and configurations … and celebrating the artistry, glamour and romantic mystique of these exquisite objects.”

(Of course, if you google “tiara” you can also find a link to, “Tiara Town … your one-stop tiara paradise.”) It is also interesting to note that superheroine, Wonder Woman is often depicted wearing a tiara, and hers can be “used as a weapon.”

Ok – so let’s say I take the kid’s college fund to Vegas and splurge on my very own tiara. And, since I’m basically a thrifty type, let’s say it’s a used pre-owned vintage tiara.  How much am I spending on this thing?  What is the resale on a gently used tiara? I guess it depends on what kind of materials it is made of, the quality and condition of the stones, and whether or not it was formerly owned by somebody really cool, like Audrey Hepburn, The Queen Mother, or Dame Edna.

So, let’s say I get the tiara, and, like my first pair of red patent-leather shoes, I insist on wearing it home. Nobody notices in Vegas, it turns a few heads on the plane, and by the time the wheels hit the tarmac in the Twin Cities I feel like a complete freak. The tiara is probably not going to fly in Minnesota, home of the warm hot dish and sensible shoes — a blingy headband, maybe, but not a tiny bedazzled crown.

Think about it… Where am I wearing the tiara besides in my office? … Walking the dog? … Grocery shopping? … On the golf course? … To book club? … “Oh Kathie, is that a new tiara? … “  … I suppose it would work on New Year’s Eve or Halloween, or the next time I go to a coronation. If you know me, you know that I am generally pretty conservative when it comes to fashion. Can a tiara be worn with a turtleneck?

The Take-Away:  A quick consult with Nina Garcia’s “Little Black Book of Fashion” confirms my assumption that the tiara is not quite mainstream. However, while she makes no mention of the bejeweled headpiece specifically, there are plenty of guidelines around fashionable presentation. I think I have found a suitable tiara loophole on page 142, where Nina sums it all up by saying:

I have spent a good many seasons watching fashion trends come and go, style myths created and dismantled, hemlines rise and fall. The one solid piece of advice I have to offer is: don’t take it all too seriously… because, in the end you are the only judge that really matters. … Style is a matter of finding out who you are and who you want to be in the world. I hope you choose to be fabulous, daring, fun, inspired, and yourself.”

Clearly, what she means here is, “Go ahead — wear the tiara!”

Pre-Ramble:  Hi, it’s me, Daisy – I’ll be your esteemed guest-blogger for today.  Actually, Mom begged me to write the blog because she was all in a panic since it was Monday morning and the blog muse hadn’t kicked in yet. I could tell by the way she was whining and clawing at the refrigerator that things were going to be coming my way. (She always sticks me with the blog when she doesn’t know what to write about.)

To make matters worse, she had just read an article in the New York Times Sunday Magazine (”Say What?” by Rob Walker, 5/31/09, p. 30) about the plethora of opportunities and technological tools available to the individual for expressing themselves to a World-Wide-audience.  The article also eluded to the associated expectation that bloggers will not only have something to say, but that it will be interesting, entertaining and meaningful, and that fresh insights will be shared with alarming frequency. 

… blogs have evolved from something to be updated on occasion to being updated daily, then many times a day, and now social media invites updates hourly, or constantly.” 

No pressure there.

Apparently, a site called “plinky.com” (sounds like a good name for those useless accessory-dogs that fit in purses) generates a daily blog-worthy inquiry; something to spur pithy thoughts, like, “What top five songs should you take on a road trip?” … “Which movie characters would you befriend in real life?” … “Who would win a fight between a bear and a shark?” … or, “What’s the most useless thing in your house right now?”  While those topics are very nice … none of them really speaks to me or the doggie demographic. What about, “List your top 5 puppy names” … “How to win friends and solicit table scraps?” … “Which movie characters would you bite in real life?” … or, “How many ways are there to actually skin a cat?”

The great thing about being a dog is that there is no imperative to be witty. In fact, speaking of speaking, unless someone issues the “Speak!” command, or errant wildlife violates the perimeter, a dog can pretty much keep quiet.  And, while you may be called upon to fetch something or perform an occasional trick, these feats are usually basic and nonverbal. Instead of feeling compelled to yammer on and on on our Facebook page all day, we dogs are inclined – and expected – to sleep. If there’s a sunny patch of carpet and I’m not lying in it, people think there’s something wrong with me.

The Take-Away: Bloggers everywhere should just take a load off. If there’s something compelling to say — say it.  If not — go roll around in the backyard. 

Post Note: Mom wanted me to report out on the bird nest … she wanted me to mention that the Chiplets are getting bigger and featherier, and that the nest was getting really crowded.  Give me a packet of dipping sauce and I can take care of that in 20 seconds.

Pre-Ramble: Yell the word “bacon” in a crowded room, and conversation will hush — half of the people will turn with a look of recogition that says, “you are one of us” – the other half will look askance as though you’ve just committed some foul breech of personal etiquette. I will venture to say that beyond a mere culinary preference, an affinity for bacon represents a lifestyle choice.

So, as a closet bacon aficionado for the last 25 years (at least that’s all I’ll admit to in this forum), I’ve noticed over the past couple of years that bacon has become an uber-trendy darling, not only to the foodie crowd, but among a variety of other fraternities as well. Not even the very popular olives and cupcakes have busted through the boundaries of the ordinary foodstuff to become the versatility player and cross-over talent that bacon has. 

Author Joanna Pruess says it best in her homage, “Seduced by Bacon,”

Although 71 percent of bacon is still eaten for breakfast and brunch, it has recently stepped into the limelight as a culinary superstar. Led by a charge from creative cooks and chefs … this once humble staple [is now featured] in dishes that are served at all hours of the day and evening and at some of the finest restaurants. Ounce for ounce, slice per slice, no other quintessential ingredient has the seductive powers of bacon. 

Here, here!!! No truer words were ever spoken. This “seductive superstar” comes in a wide variety of flavors conjured up in smokehouses all across the country. There’s Applewood Smoked, Cinnamon Cured, Peppercorn, Cob Smoked, Hickory Smoked, Maple Cured, Garlic Clove, Hickory Juniper and even Jalapeno Smoked bacon. Consult the Grateful Palate’s Field Guide to Bacon for an exhaustive list of bacon options.

Polarizing pork:  And, it’s not just fabulous by itself, bacon in combination with other foods is downright tasty as well. Beyond its workhorse roles in the BLT or as a companion to eggs, bacon has become the favorite foil to all sorts of unusual food fare. Last year’s Minnesota State Fair featured a new controversial food-on-a-stick — Famous Dave’s Pig Lickers … dark chocolate-covered crispy bacon pieces sprinkled with sea salt (because bacon isn’t salty enough). Some hailed its praises, others spit it out.

It’s everywhere.  Moving comfortably among both food and non-food venues, bacon can be found in the most unlikely places. Alongside the Oxford Classic Edition of The Major Works of Sir Francis Bacon on Amazon, for example, are twenty-five other “bacon” related products including bacon dip, bacon popcorn, bacon chocolate bars, bacon flavored jelly beans (in a bacon shaped collectible tin), a bacon wallet, bacon action figures, bacon bandages (I have a pack of these – positively grizzly), and the seriously misguided bacon air freshener (who wants a car that smells like you’ve just driven through a grease fire?)  Between you and me, the biggest down-side of these applied bacon products is the decidedly unphotogenic properties of meat.

The Take-Away:  Let’s face it — like name dropping the Octomom or Susan Boyle, writing a blog about bacon is a cheap stunt. It is so easy to piggy-back on the near-sacred reputation of this delectably salty, crispy/chewy delight. I fess up to the fact that pandering to the weakness of the hog wild set is a shameless act. Bacon makes desperate people do desperate things. My bad. (See there — I hate it when people say, “My bad,” but I just said it … clearly a desperate bacon-induced lapse.)

Post Note: One of the best presents I’ve ever received was a subscription to the Bacon-of-the-Month-Club. Every month, a knock would come on the door, and there would be my UPS man, smiling that knowing smile as he forked over the special chill-pack box. Bacon in the mail = heaven on earth.