Now, I just have to remember that Yelp has reviews for much more than restaurants. If I had kept this in mind last Wednesday after the doctor diagnosed my foot as pregnant with bacteria, I could have avoided a terrible pharmacy experience.

It wasn’t until Friday that I noticed that my two bottles of antibiotics both claimed to contain a quantity of 20 pills, but only one of them actually did. Counting back to Wednesday I determined that one of the bottles started out with only 10 pills. The first question in my mind was whether this was a misprint on the bottle or an error in counting. I assumed the latter since 20 pills taken twice daily would make for a 10 day regiment – the normal course of antibiotics. The second question was whether or not the pharmacist would believe me that I needed more pills. Certainly, this shouldn’t be a problem; no one overdoses on antibiotics. This would have been a completely different situation if the prescription had been for Lortab or Oxycotton. Then I would have been labeled an addict trying to get my next fix.

I decided to go into the pharmacy rather than wait on hold for ten years. Probably a wise decision. I might have run out of all my other medication, my infection might have come back, and my foot might have fallen off before I got any real answers over the phone. Since I wasn’t feeling up to walking even to my local pharmacy, I waited until Monday to go in with an empty pill bottle. There were more lab coats behind the counter than customers waiting, but no one seemed to be getting any service. Instead, the employees were discussing what time they get off. I have never seen so many people behind the pharmacy counter before, so I was completely surprised to learn that none of them were actually pharmacists. The pharmacist was apparently hiding in a back room and had to be summoned to answer my question. I held up the two bottles and explained the situation to the tiny Asian lady towering over me. Has anyone ever figured out why the pharmacy is higher than the rest of the store?

“Is the bottle supposed to say ‘quantity 10,’ or were there supposed to be 20 pills like the other one?” I asked hoping she didn’t think that I was lying for some reason. She stared me down for a minute and then asked, “You take same way?” I assured her that I had taken one of each at breakfast and dinner, and I expressed my concern about the infection coming back if I did not finish the prescribed medication. She disappeared with my empty bottle and returned 30 seconds later to hand me a refilled bottle. No verbal explanation. When I gave her a dubious look, she showed me the larger bottle from which she had retrieved my new pills and pointed to the drug name printed across it. I do have to admit that I was wondering if she had given me the right thing. Nothing about the experience had evoked any confidence in this establishment.

As I left, I thought about how unnerving the whole situation was. The pharmacist never asked to see my identification. I could have stolen these pill bottles from a co-worker; although, stealing antibiotics would make me either in desperate need of health insurance or just weird. She also never looked up the original prescription to be certain of where the discrepancy was. I feel confident that she made the right assumption, but in my mind it was still an assumption. What if one of those antibiotics was much stronger than the other and the doctor had in fact only prescribed five days of it? Well, she’s the pharmacist, and she knows how long these drugs are normally prescribed. At least that’s what I tell myself. I wonder how this would have gone down if the miscounted pills had been pain meds instead of antibiotics? It would have been my word against theirs, and I probably would have been out of luck.

After I left the pharmacy vowing never to return, I looked them up on Yelp. Five reviews averaged out to a one star rating. From now on, I am going to take advantage of the fact that everyone writes Yelp reviews around here. Only one person in all of Shreveport, Louisiana, has written a review about a pharmacy. Only five grocery stores have been reviewed, and one of those is actually a Chinese restaurant. No reviews have been written for automotive repair facilities or for lawyers, and only in the Deep South could Holiday Inn be listed under the Nightlife category.

P.S. My foot is almost back to normal!

When I lived in France, I generally put my groceries in my backpack or paid the few centimes for a plastic bag. All the French ladies wheeled carts to the store pour faire les courses. This seemed odd to me at first because I was used to cashiers who gave me one plastic bag per item, but just as I quickly learned to bag my own groceries, I quickly figured out that not every culture has the disposable mentality of Americans. It seems ridiculous to take a brand new bag, walk a few blocks with it, and then throw it away. France, along with numerous other countries, has now banned non-biodegradable plastic bags in an effort to protect the environment and keep litter off the streets.

Ok, but back to the US. We love our plastic bags, and I will admit that they can be useful. Most people keep a small reserve under the kitchen sink for random needs. They do come in handy if you want to send your moocher friend home with some leftover dinner or random stuff out of your closet that you don’t want anymore, but most bags just end up in the trash.

I will also admit that some of the complaints from DC residents are valid. The main complaint (besides more taxation) seems to be the logistics of having a reusable bag with you at all times. This is especially a problem for men who do not carry man-purses or pedestrians who do not drive cars. There is nowhere to store the bag until you need it. If you do your shopping right after work for example, you have to remember to take a bag to work and then be sure you don’t forget it at 5 o’clock. Or, if you spend a lovely Saturday afternoon walking around DC and realize on your way home that you need to pick up a few items for dinner, you are stuck with a 5 cent tax for lack of preparedness. Since no one wants to walk around with an empty reusable bag permanently hanging from his shoulder, I am adding my 2 cents and offering a possible solution:

I bought several of these little fold-up bags at Target for about $1. When folded, one of these bags is about the size of my hand. (Pleas note that I have smaller than average hands.) When unfolded, it fits more groceries than an average plastic bag. Sure, these are not as good as the heavy-duty ones, but they easily fit in a purse, a jacket pocket, or a back jeans pocket. I stash them everywhere. Sometimes when I think I have forgotten to bring bags, I am surprised that I have one of these in my purse. I also love the amazed look on the cashier’s face when I whip out a little pouch and unfold it into a sack. Don’t chide me, but I’m pretty sure this Target bag was not made from recycled material. If that bothers you, Timbuk2 has some collapsible bags made from recycled fabric. Now I feel like a cheap advertisement. I should see about getting paid for this.

I’m not sure that reusable bags are going to save the planet or that plastic bags are the true enemy, but I figure bringing your own bag can’t hurt. You should probably still keep those plastic sacks under the kitchen sink for sending home food after your dinner party.

I made it in to see a doctor Wednesday afternoon which was a bit tricky for several reasons: I don’t have a primary care physician yet in Silver Spring, I couldn’t stand on my left foot, and I couldn’t fit my foot into a shoe. I found a decent walk-in urgent care center with a very knowledgeable doctor. The diagnosis: cellulitis. It seems that the normally occurring bacteria on the outside of my skin got inside through my blister and infected the underneath layer of skin. This infection caused my foot to turn light red, swell up like a balloon, and itch uncontrollably. The doc gave me a shot of antibiotics – which nearly made me pass out – and a prescription for more antibiotics. He said that if I had not come in when I did for the shot, I would have found myself in the ER in need of IV antibiotics by midnight. The thought of another needle made me almost pass out again. I was very impressed with his technique for helping me determine if my foot got better or worse. He took his pen and drew on me. He outlined the edge of the redness and swelling. If the red receded, I would be ok, but if it went passed the ink, I would be needing that IV. Thankfully, I woke up this morning to see a narrow space of normal looking skin between the edge of red swelling and the black ink.

I don’t like the diagnosis of cellulitis because it just sounds gross. The word is too closely related etymologically to cellulite, which is a different problem altogether. I guess you could say that I have “fat foot,” but that would be an understatement. It looks like my foot is with child. While I appreciate everything this doctor did for me, I prefer my own diagnosis: pedi-claustrophobia. My feet are claustrophobic and have been held prisoners in my shoes all winter long. In my mind this is the only logical explanation given that I have had hundreds of blisters in my life and none of them have ever been infected. The main difference between all of those blisters and the one I have now is climate. In Louisiana I could wear sandals and flip-flops eight months out of the year and only had to wear socks and shoes four months a year. In this colder Mid-Atlantic climate my sandal to shoe ratio is exactly reversed causing my feet to be shut up for eight long months at a time. This stifling environment is not healthy. Without the proper amount of fresh air and sunshine, my feet finally got sick. Based on my cold-natured tendency, I have calculated almost two more months of shoe-wearing weather. Spring needs to come soon to liberate my feet. If it doesn’t, I may need to pick out a name for this colony of bacteria that I am hosting.

Aquarius and I managed to furnish our historic southern home with mismatched pieces that came close to fitting our taste. The whole time, we had an image in our heads of the style we really wanted: modern, sleek, minimalist. Since our move to Maryland was a downgrade in size, we left some of our old furniture behind. This brings us up to our most recent move last summer from Ellicott City to Silver Spring, and the first time I walked into West Elm. It was like this store had read my mind, and I wanted to decorate my whole condo with West Elm. It was time to get rid of the remaining transplant pieces anyway in favor of urban living. We bought our bed and a buffet from here, but our couch came from DESI in Rockville. We revisited West Elm about a month ago for new bedding: a duvet cover and pillows. The only thing they didn’t have in stock was the down comforter to go inside my new duvet cover. I could have gotten this on-line, but in an attempt to save on shipping costs, I stopped in at the store yesterday to see if they had more in stock. I should have called first. I was surprised to find “Store Closing” signs, hoards of people taking advantage of the 15% off, and no more comforters. I must have deleted the email that was sent out to customers last Monday.

This shouldn’t be a huge devastation to me seeing as I have already decorated my place, but it is frustrating that as soon as I find something I like, it closes. It’s not like the entire company is closing. There is still a store in Tysons Corner (not very convenient for me), and I can order on-line. According to an article I found, the store just didn’t do as well as expected. I suppose this is capitalism and our wounded economy at work. The store plans to stay open until March 15th or until they run out of merchandise. If you are in the DC area and are in the market for well-built, reasonably priced furniture or contemporary home décor, head downtown to West Elm. Everything is 15% off. If any Washingtonians know of a similar home furnishing store in the area, let me know about it.

This brings me to my break-up with Comcast last week. It was quick and sweet. Aquarius and I came home one evening to find a flyer on our door for RCN, a cable company that is new to our building. All it took was seeing TV5 Monde (a French language channel) on the line-up and Aquarius was on the phone with the cable companies. My quest to get TV5 in the past has been a string of disappointments. I can watch their evening news program on the website, but nowhere I have ever lived has offered the entire channel on cable. Some cities in South Louisiana could get it, but not in North Louisiana. In Maryland, I could get it through satellite, but satellite wasn’t offered in my building. I preemptively got excited last August when we moved to our current condo and I saw France 24 on the cable guide. It turned out to be the French news reported in English.

As of Saturday, I have a real reason to be excited about watching TV. I can have the French language spoken in my home 24/7 if I just leave TV5 Monde playing. In addition to the news, I can watch movies, documentaries, children’s shows, and even game shows. For the past few days, my new favorite show has been “Questions pour un champion,” a quiz show that asks contestants general knowledge questions. One of the best parts of the show is the consolation prizes for the eliminated contestants. Rather than the vacation packages to Hawaii that are given out on American game shows, these losers get dictionaries and encyclopedias to further their general knowledge. If I were to go on a game show, I think I would rather walk away with an Encyclopedia of Mythology than a trip – unless it’s a trip to France. I always figured that winning a vacation is probably more hassle than enjoyment. I would have to schedule a time that I could go, and then everything would probably not be included. When it was all over, I would end up coming home sunburnt and having spent too much money. I would rather have a book that I can put on my shelf and enjoy anytime.

So, that brings me to books. Another way I try to keep my French language skills sharp is by reading in French. The problem is that most bookstores consider a French Language section to be a row of French dictionaries. I often order books from Amazon, but since most French literature ships from Europe, it is expensive. Sometimes I pay more in shipping costs than I pay for the book itself. If anyone in DC knows of a good used book store that carries a decent selection of French language books, please let me know. I found a foreign language section at Capitol Hill Books on C Street in Eastern Market, but it was in the bathroom. I’m not making this up. They had stuck a bookshelf in the bathroom and scrawled out a sign in Sharpie to tape on the bathroom door – “Foreign Language.” I spent a few minutes in there until I was disgusted by both the selection and the fact that I was browsing books while standing next to a toilet. I guess if someone needed to use the toilet, they would have to ask you to go browse elsewhere for a few minutes.

Maybe it’s time to find a French meet-up group.

1. Cookies ‘n’ Cream. The snow is only pretty for one day. Once the ploughs come by to free us from our snowed-in homes, they scrape up the black road grime along with the pristine white snow. What started as pure white fluff begins to look like a bowl of cheap cookies ‘n’ cream ice cream that has been stirred vigorously with a spoon. By the time the roads are passable again, the exhaust of cars and buses adds to this mixture. The result is a smog flavored snow cone lining the streets.

2. Crosswalk Soup: The gray snow cone seems to melt quickest around crosswalks, and those of us who are pedestrians have to trudge through this muck. Every street corner becomes a wadding pool of melted dirty snow that has nowhere to drain because the gutters are clogged with ice. If you don’t own a pair of waterproof boots that can be worn over your pants, you will be soaked after an encounter with just one of these crosswalks, and that’s assuming you can even find one with a shoveled pedestrian path. In the South, we thought UGGs were just a fashion statement. It turns out they are very practical.

3. Yellow Snow: No one ever told me about yellow snow, but it only took about two seconds for me to figure out. Now that the snow has been on the ground for at least two weeks, my sidewalk is lined with yellow on top of the gray. You never think about all of the dog pee that you walk by everyday until it has been highlighted in bright yellow.

4. Flying Ice: It turns out that if you don’t brush the snow off the roof of your car immediately after a snowstorm, it will harden into a block of ice. The only thing that will remove six inches of ice from the roof of your car is an ice pick or driving at a speed of at least 60mph. Beware of whom you are driving behind on the highway. If they appear to park in a garage, you are safe, but if they have an ice-capped car, change lanes. That block of ice is liable to come loose at any moment and hit your windshield. You will be lucky if it comes off in small pieces, but there is no guarantee. The worst is the 18 wheelers. A ten foot long sheet of ice may not break apart until it hits the hood of your car and sends you swerving off the road peeing your pants.

I’m sure that these things all just seem like a normal part of winter for anyone who grew up in the North, but for me, these are new experiences. While Southerners may be dreaming of a day of vacation due to a freak snowstorm, up here we are dreaming of spring.

I must say that the fake fireplace did add a very cozy feeling to the restaurant when combined with the low lighting and an abundance of candles. No, they were not the fireplace scented candles. I was glad that the proprietors opted not to use one of the playlists from the DVD. Instead, we dined to a nice mix of laid-back music including Zero 7.

There are a lot of real life experiences that pop culture has digitized, but this was not one that I expected. I find that there is some virtual form of real life for almost everyone. If you want to get in touch with nature and your ancestral farming roots but don’t want to wake up at dawn or sweat in the field, you can sign up for FarmVille. If you are interested in the military but don’t want to go to boot camp, there are dozens of video games which simulate the bestial need to kill our fellow humans. If you have the urge to steal cars and shoot random pedestrians but don’t want to get arrested, there is a video game for that too. If you’ve always dreamed of becoming a doctor, driving a BMW, and dating 3 women at once but you’re a fat slob who is far from studious, you can live out your fantasy in the Sims. If you like playing tennis or golf but don’t like leaving the house, you just need Wii Sports. All you need is a computer to have meaningful relationships with others, a pet, or even an aquarium. I actually know a guy who started dating his down-the-street neighbor after meeting her on a dating website.

I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when I ran across the crackling Yule log on my cable. Everything else has been transferred to our monitors, so why not this? However, I do think my surprise was merited when I ran across a VHS version of this faux fire while rummaging through some DVD’s and cassettes at school. I was taking stock of what Shakespeare plays I had on hand before starting Romeo and Juliet with my 9th graders when I found the 90 minute version of my never-ending fire. This means that someone actually paid money for a video of fire, put it in a VHS player, and then had to rewind it to continue the standard-definition faux fire enjoyment. Thankfully, this fire has now been shot in HD and can be ordered on-line for $14.95. I wonder who the director was. The DVD provides 9 different fireplace choices, 3 music choices, and a loop feature. It is filled with “190 minutes of red-hot fireplace video action.” Be sure to check out the trailer to get the full ambient feeling. Luckily, this production company doesn’t take themselves too seriously.

If you don’t want to chop firewood, or if you don’t have a fireplace, or if the smoke bothers your allergies, you may want to invest in this DVD. It takes all of the hassle out of having a real fire. Are you looking to make your Valentine’s Day more romantic? This DVD plus the fireplace scented candles could be just what you need. It’s a fireplace in a jar. Just be sure to take the proper precautions. Like the trailer says, you may need to warn the neighbors. The combination of the crackling noise and the wood-burning fire scent may make them think that your house is on fire.

For example, if we did not have a systematic way of naming hurricanes, Katrina would just be “that really big storm in 2005 that broke the levees, displaced thousands of New Orleans’ residents, and made Kanye West say that George Bush doesn’t care about black people.” Of course then Rita would be known as “that really big storm that came a few weeks after that really big storm in 2005 that broke the levees, displaced thousands of New Orleans’ residents, and made Kanye West say that George Bush doesn’t care about black people.” Whenever my dad tells me stories about growing up just outside of New Orleans, he would have to say something like , “…that really big storm during which I helped my dad save our refrigerator by laying it on the dinning room table just before evacuating our house by perot.”* Instead, he just has to say “Betsy” and all of the rest is implied. Whenever anyone mentions Gustav, I think of the hurricane that hit South Louisiana a week after I moved to Maryland. While I was settling into my new home, my mother-in-law was hosting about 40 Cajun relatives who slept on air mattresses in every available space around her house in Shreveport.

So, Midwest, Mid-Atlantic, and Northeast, I propose that you come up with a system of naming snowstorms. The first rule is that you must be prepared. In the South, we have an alphabetical list of names ready to go at the beginning of each hurricane season. The list alternates boy’s and girl’s names every letter, and the list starts with a boy’s name every other year. Since we use common first names for hurricanes, you guys may want to try something different like names from Greek mythology, animals, famous authors like Jack London, or Shakespeare characters like Beatrice. However you guys decide to chose names, you have to make sure that it is official and that everyone knows about it in advance. No one in New Orleans decided that Kelly would be a better name than Katrina. That’s just not the way it works.

The second rule is that these storms must be named in their infancy. We name hurricanes while they are still tropical storms. You can do the alphabet math to figure out how many potential hurricanes we had in 2005 between Katrina and Rita. You don’t wait until a baby is born before naming it. You must have something to call it while it is on its way. An example: “You better hurry up and get to Whole Foods before they run out of chicken. Apollo is on his way!” Keep in mind that it is sometimes necessary to preface these names with the title “Hurricane” or “Blizzard.” I happen to have a cousin named Katrina and it could be ambiguous or rude to say things like, “Katrina just screwed everything up!”

*I will admit that I tend to exaggerate and fictionalize events, but this one is completely true.

Because I am a big fan of personification, I decided that I must name my robot. The robot is definitely male. Women have been slaving away at cleaning for too long; it’s a man’s turn. I tried to think of something clever from literature or mythology that either sucks (no, not vampires) or eats the scum of the earth. Since I failed at finding the appropriate allusion, I turned to movies. C-3PO is a name that should be reserved for the invention of overly-talkative robots. Mine only knows a few phrases. R2-D2 almost fits since he is round and beeps, but I don’t think that my self-propelled cleaning device is ever going to save the day. So, I think that I have settled on WALL-E. This seems fitting and will instantly make him cuter because I will superimpose onto him the personality of his Pixar namesake .

As far as WALL-E’s performance, I am amazed. He spent this afternoon learning the terrain of his new work environment. He quickly learned where all the walls are and slowed down as he approached them. It only took him about 5 seconds to figure out that my ottoman is round and to make a near-perfect sweeping circle along its edge. But one of his greatest skills is that he cleans under my couch. This is something that has not happened since I bought it. When he disappeared underneath the TV stand, we were cheering him on to find his way back out. In addition to doing the carpet and tile, he also does cat sitting. My cats have not decided if they have found their new best friend or their arch nemesis. Aquarius is already exploring various hacking possibilities. He claims that he is just going to modify the recorded voice to sound like WALL-E, but I fear that this will soon become one more thing that he can control from his iPhone.