Today's Wiki How

"Here's a tasty sweet chocolate chip cookie recipe with a savory twist due to the addition of bacon bits. Topped off with a sweet maple glaze, these cookies are a unique treat for the bacon and chocolate lover."

I don't give their recipe here. I'm still wondering if we ought to make such cookies. I've seen the maple bar donuts with strips of bacon and been assured they're delicious. Most likely they are. I've many times put pieces of bacon in my pancake batter, cooked them, then added maple syrup. So why not?

Too much bother, maybe, because I just don't buy premade bacon pieces.

Yes, the world has more in it to write about than bacon in your chocolate chip cookies.

Hurricane Irene, earthquakes--both where my two youngest daughters were affected. Alyce and Ben lost power for six hours; Ann and Jeremy lost a rain gutter and had their back yard flood, again. But both were safe. And the earthquake left all shaken--no pun here--but fine.

I give thanks.

What Is the Deal?

I go to Curves. It's Curves for Women. That's the name of it, you know.

So on my recent ten days away from home, I used my visitor pass and went to Curves in Centerville, Utah, and Curves in Provo, Utah.

I also went to Curves in Orem, Utah, and that's what this is about.

I walked in and saw a man sitting at the computer, thought he was there to work on some computer problem, and waited for the manager to come and check me in as a visitor. She was talking.

Finally, she came. But in the meantime, the man--wearing workout gloves, I guess you call them--had left the computer and walked to the machines and had begun "his" workout. Also in the meantime, the one other woman in the place left.

I said to the manager, "Is this Curves for Women?" I knew the answer, of course, and she did not catch the tone of my voice.

"Yes, it is," she said all proudly, like I might be wanting to join.

"Is that a woman?" I asked.

"Oh, we can't discriminate. We could get sued." And so on and so forth.

And someone I told this to said you all should have just been so loud and driven him out. Maybe, but it was just him and me. I did not want to jiggle around the room with him.

"The whole purpose of this place is for women to be able to work out without men. Right? So that the women can feel safe and comfortable. Right?"

"Well, yes it is, but we can't discriminate. Have you heard of AARP's Silver Slippers program?"

"No. But I see the sign in your window."

"Yes. We have senior couples coming in, too, every evening." Obviously, she thought I'd pop back in that night with hubby. I didn't explain. And I don't like it when people lob me over into the "old" pile.

"And this does not bother anyone?" I asked.

I guess she could see I wasn't about to be placated or swerved. "Well," she said, again, "we can't discriminate."

Okay, I get it. But I can discriminate. I didn't stay.

By the way, I wasn't nasty about it.

My questions are these:

• Why does he want to come to a women's gym and workout? The machines are, I'd have to say, womanly, after all. And it isn't cheaper than, say, Gold's or Planet Fitness or whatever. It really isn't.
  

• Is his longish gray hair, layered and cut just so, an indication that he is gay? Look. I'm happy for gay people to be gay. I just don't want men at Curves. Gay or straight. Get it?
  

• Shouldn't Curves get some kind of Corporation by-laws or something that says, NO MEN?

Come on, don't get after me. I like men. I married one. I have four sons. I like them. I love them. But I go to Curves for my workout and I don't want men there. And that is final.

Of Small Consequence

Weight Watchers Leader: Sometimes we think if we eat fruits or vegetables immediately after eating six cookies that somehow makes it all right to have eaten the cookies.

Class Member: Were you in my house last night? That's exactly what I did, only not six cookies but eight. Then I had an apple. It's like I thought I would lose weight if I did that.

WWL: I know. I think we've all done that.

CM: Those cookies were so good. I could hardly stop myself. But all that sugar and chocolate. And weight is the only thing you can't hide.

Me: You can't hide pimples.

Hair Matters

I grew up a blonde. Truly. And I like to believe I appreciated the fact of it. Maybe not. Young people are a lot less smart than they think they are. Even me. Maybe.

Now my hair is white. Actually, white in front and on the sides, gray in back.

Last night I dreamed my hair was brown. I looked at it from every angle, hand mirror and all. You know, checking to be sure it was really brown. Well, from every angle on the left side. I don't know what this means, the left side thing. I guess it was sufficient to assure me the whole head of hair was brown.

I was really happy to have brown hair. Not even asking for blond hair, just so it wasn't white, I guess. And it looked great.

Other parts of the dream were equally fantastic. As in unreal. But for however long it takes to dream something--and I hear it's seconds, bummer--I was a brown-haired happy woman.