Igor Beaver

Wow - this one came at me from left field. From April 16th New Yorker Magazine; "The British Invasion," about boys and girls going wild in the new party hotspot, Porec, Croatia.

In a paragraph citing "Istria as an ecological and healthy tourist destination," a local tourism employee was questioned about the thousand-strong package tour group coming his way. He was not a fan of young drunken hordes no matter how much moola they brought into his country.  His name?  Igor Beakovic.

I read it, of course, as Igor Beaver, which struck me as ironic considering his un-eager approach to mass tourism.  

Big Ass Fireplace

This came from my very own notes.  As a travel writer, I'm constantly scribbling as I tour destinations and properties.  These days, wood fireplaces are too dangerous and expensive, insurance-wise, so lodgings have started to install gas fireplaces. Some are quite large.  They are big gas fireplaces.  I just read my own notes incorrectly and cracked myself up.

Spiked Hair-ball

Today's Misreading requires a little explanation.  Last night, I woke to the sound of my cat choking up a hair-ball - a prolonged episode - with that gagging, puking sound that made me wonder where it landed and where NOT to step in the morning.

So when I turned to the Sports Section of the New York Times - front page - and read "Latest Spiked Hair-ball Lacks a Name," I was, to put it mildly, baffled.  What is a hair-ball doing on the sports page? And what, exactly, is a spiked hair-ball? A new kind of do?  A Mohawk-like hair-ball?

So, I read more carefully this time.  The Headline?  Latest Heir To Spiked Ball Lacks a Name - and is all about an heir to the end-zone spike- that age-old touchdown celebration. Now, two celebrants run towards each other, leap into the air and turn around smashing their jersey numbers together. It has nothing to do with a hair-ball, really, but have you seen the tresses on players lately??  Long locks cascade from many a helmet.  Include a helmet collision in the celebratory dance, and well, you could call it a spiked hair-ball after all.

The Dangerous Plastic Elephant

I subscribe to a site called "Healthy Women from Bottom Line" - and I read today's email Subject line as 

THE DANGEROUS PLASTIC ELEPHANT.  What on earth could this be, I mused?  A caution against China-sourced circus-animal toys?  I was curious enough to click on the email and read further....

The Dangerous Plastic Epidemic

Editor’s note: It’s holiday time, so food is everywhere—and, unfortunately, much of that food is wrapped, sold, stored, cooked and/or served in plastic. You probably know that plastics can release toxic chemicals, but you may not know how to protect yourself.

Bottom Line/Personal, another newsletter in the Bottom Line family, recently published an article in which Patricia Hunt, PhD, a leading researcher on plastic toxins and a professor in the School of Molecular Biosciences at Washington State University, discussed the strategies she uses to safeguard her own family. It is a great article and very timely, so I want to share that vital information with HealthyWoman readers, too.

As Emily Litella would say,  "Oh, Epidemic.....Nevermind."

Escape Through Obesity

After reading about a technology that can determine whether a picture has been photoshopped, illustrated by actual photographs of fashion models, first with rolls of stomach fat then without, I turned to the NY Times Obituaries to read:

Lana Peters, Daughter of Stalin for Whom Obesity Was Escape, Dies at 85.

Wait, what?

The misread word in this case was Obscurity.  Of course. She escaped by becoming an unknown.  But can't people escape life by eating to the point of obesity?  Maybe, but they are more likely to escape FROM obesity.  And, anyway, Lana Peters appeared to be a fit woman throughout her obscure life.

I'd love to hear from readers about your own bouts with Mislexia.  Just leave a comment and I'll be sure to include it on a future blog.

A Greek from Athens and a Pontiff at Pope Marina

Today, it's not so much about mislexia as it is about the coincidences that appear contrived by a B-Movie scriptwriter, but are actually true.  Take today's New York Times cover story about trends in treating schizophrenia, Finding Purpose After Living With Delusion.  The piece is datelined "Athens, GA" and focuses on Milt Greek - a schizophrenic capably living with the illness.  A guy named Greek from Athens?  For real?  Apparently so.  

Reminds me of the time I wrote a feature about New Bedford, MA for Offshore Magazine.  I had interviewed Captain Jeff Pontiff of Whaling City Launch Service that operated out of Pope Island Marina.  My editor emailed me shortly after I filed the story.  "Is this a joke?" he wrote.  "Pontiff at Pope Marina?"  As a non-Christian, I never even made the connection, but had to laugh when I read my editor's comment.  


"Yep, true," I replied.  "Sometimes truth is weirder than fiction."

Orgasm Experiments

This morning, after finishing the New York Times Magazine cover story, about a Sex Ed teacher who encourages his students to have good sex, I picked up the New Yorker Magazine Food Issue and was deep into a piece called "Sacred Grounds" by Kelefa Sanneh - an exploration of the high-end gourmet coffee market.

Midway, I read; "At boutique cafes, customers liked the idea of paying a premium for a premium cup, especially if the cup came with a story about a plucky farmer's daughter and her orgasm experiments."

Orgasm experiments?? With coffee beans??  Hold the phone!  Of course, the written word was organic.  But might there be plucky a farmer's daughter out there doing orgasm experiments?  I'll have to ask my email-buddy, Mary Roach, whose own investigations into orgasm experiments led to her wonderfully funny book, BONK.