Thursday, February 25, 2010

culinary adventures - under the sea

so i was cruising todd's independent grocer in haliburton and i saw bags of mussels. they looked very pretty - smooth, black shells with a lovely sheen and nice pattern in the lines and whorls all purple net bags.

$4 a bag.

i thought "i can do that" - i always wanted to try mussels but, quite frankly, the look put me off.

so i looked in my Irish Pub Recipes cookbook and found a recipe involving cream, guinness, garlic, onion, and butter and sounded quite tasty.

everything proceeded as to plan and i tried the first mussel. then the second. a third, just to confirm:


it was like eating creamy, garlicky snot balls.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

thinking....

so i was coming out of the drivetest centre and i saw a pamphlet that said "if you drive at 100 instead of 120, you will use 20% less fuel" and i was struck by the facetiousness of that statement.

fuel consumption cannot be linear - at no point, EVER, will your engine be operating while burning no fuel. can't be done. therefore, it can't be true that if you're driving at 50, you're burning half as much fuel than if you were driving at 100. i drive slowly - usually 10 under the limit - not only because my car is a piece of shit but also because i'm cheeeeeeeeeeap and do everything i can to save every last drop of fuel:

- i take my foot off the accelerator when going down long hills
- i keep all my windows shut (reduces drag)
- i don't have stupid things like flags waving out the windows (that can up your fuel consumption by 5 to 15%!)
- i drive slowly - the less work my car does pushing against the air, the less fuel it burns
- i even shut the car off in drive-throughs unless i'm going straight on through. if i'm going to be waiting more than 60secs, off it goes. and then i sit there until the way to the speakerphone is clear and i just drive straight up. i don't care that there's fifteen cars lined up behind me - moving up four feet at a time isn't going to get them there any faster. if they were smart, they'd shut their cars off too.

so anyway, the thing is that there has to be a bottom line fuel consumption - let's called it the fixed cost. this is the rock-bottom amount the car needs to get going.

then there'd be the variable cost, which corresponds to the demand being made on the car - the faster the car goes, the steeper the incline, the heavier the load or the drag, the faster the wind speed, the more fuel the car will burn.

instead of the graph of fuel consumption being a straight line from zero to whatever, therefore, the graph would start somewhere above zero and then swoop upward in an increasingly steep curve.


so there.

and it's not called a "parking brake" - i argued with the drivetest examiner today about that. it's a "hand brake", required by the highway traffic act to be present as an emergency backup braking system in case, i dunno, the brake lines explode or the master cylinder goes "pop!".

so now you know - go fix yours.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Driving lessons

okay, here's for all you assholes who evidently got your license from your inkjet:

1) when you encounter a single-lane situation - ie, a BRIDGE over FAST-MOVING water in the middle of winter - and somebody or something is in front of you, you ARE supposed to stop until they are clear. that means that if you are driving up my road and you hit the bridge and i'm in the bridge with my border collie and my toddler, you do NOT just "voosh!" past me sending spray all over us. next time, i unleash the dog and i will track you down!

2) for all you guys severely compensating with your uber-big dodge RAMS and SUVs, get your bloody headlights aligned so they're not torching my eyeballs when you're right up my ass! do you honestly think i can see anything when the klieg lights are blasting into my retinae from every mirror and reflective surface i own!?

3) when you're doing your customary 110, 120 in an 80 zone and you encounter me putzing along at 70, don't just ride my bumper and chew your steering wheel. first off, the two or three minutes it will take to reach an area you can safely and legally pass me is not going to make or break your schedule. secondly, riding my slipstream will not save you any gas but the slower speed will indeed economize your fuel consumption (so you should thank me!). thirdly, i can pretty much guarantee that we'll be meeting up ten minutes down the road anyway - either at the lights or as i cruise past while the nice officer is taking down your information.

there are all kinds of reasons why i'm driving so slowly:

- my car is about to pop a crucial rivet and begin dropping bits and pieces
- i'm low on fuel and desperately hoping to make it to the gas station. driving slowly gets you farther because there's less resistance for your car to work against.
- i have a toddler and a dog in the car and they're fighting over a milkbone.
- the dog is trying to stick his tongue in my ear. why? who the hell knows.
- i've dropped the perly's and it's stuck under my gas pedal.
- the weather is CRAP and i can't see SHIT because i'm not driving a honking big metal penismobile with four-mile visibility.
- my toddler has fallen asleep and i want her to nap as long as possible.
- if i get home too fast, it means i have to do the dishes that much sooner.
- there was something i had to do back in town... what was it...?


and so on and so on.

so basically, stfu and drive and never mind driving my car for me unless you are going to provide the vehicle and the live-in nanny.

4) GET OFF YOUR FUCKING PHONE AND BUTT THE FUCKING SMOKES WITH YOUR FUCKING KIDS IN THE BACK SEAT!!!!! oh, honestly - who do you ppl think you are!? you are poisoning your kids' health because "it's my car and i can do what i want" and playing russian roulette with a two-ton bullet because texting "lol i no u r so f'd" is so much more important than the fucking moose that just ran out in front of you!?? are you insane!?

5) if you don't want the dog to chase you, then DON'T SLOW DOWN. just go! if you hit him, whatever! he'll learn next time!

Thursday, February 18, 2010

"three.....two.....one.....lift-off! we have lift-off!!!"

okay, it's a rather unsavoury topic but saari's potty is just *heinous* nasty. for some reason, if the urine isn't cleaned *instantly* (while still warm, i mean), it develops a thick crust that resists everything - vinegar doesn't dissolve it and the only way to get it off is to chip at it with a metal spatula.

there were five components identified but the only ones i remember are: potassium nitrate, urate, and ammonium. no calcium.

so while toodling around the net doing random lookups, i came upon this little gem:

"Potassium nitrate is also used as a fertilizer, in amateur rocket propellants, and in several fireworks such as smoke bombs."



...... i just had a vision of saari farting and ending up being launched sky-high off her potty....

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

today was not a bad day at all!

looks like we've been approved for Assistance for Children with Severe Disabilities. means a bit of extra money per month to pay for her ballet, skating, etc; transportation to appointments and her therapy sessions; exercise equipment (playground stuff like climbers and maybe a small trampoline, the kind that goes in the livingroom, so she can stop caving in my bedframe); and books and computer programs.

yay!

http://www.children.gov.on.ca/htdocs/English/topics/specialneeds/disabilities/index.aspx

Friday, February 12, 2010

Out of the Mouths of Babes

saari came out of the bedroom and had to stop because the dog was standing there. she stared at dandy and said "shit".

i was on the couch and just about choked on my tea. quickly i reminded myself "she's not even 3 - don't make a big deal out of it." so i just calmly put my tea back on the table and looked up. she wasn't even paying attention to me - she was still staring at the dog.

"shit, dandy" she said.

now, that was a bit much. i was about to protest that the dog wasn't even doing anything and she could easily walk around him when she put her hands on his rump and started bouncing down on it yelling

"shit DOWN!"

The Car from Hell

well, after 5mo, my car has officially been banished. the brakes failed (again!) and after 2hrs of trying, the mechanic called me to tell me he couldn't even get it on the hoist without it bending. turns out the floor, rocker panels, and frame are shot to hell and gone: they're badly rotted and it looks like the car was in an accident.

the owner of the time, instead of doing the right thing and scrapping the car, had the damage glossed over and puttied with fibreglass. i'm thinking, too, the guy probably didn't even know that had been done: he went to a "buddy" mechanic and paid pennies and expected a full-dollar job because the mechanic who certified that damned thing certainly knew the car was dangerous! what makes it even more inexcusable is they KNEW the car was for someone with a baby who lives in a remote area! the mechanic i had the car to said if i even hit a speed bump too hard, the car would literally break apart. if i got into a low-impact accident (30k, even), the car would fly into a million pieces and - this is a direct quote - "people would die". he said in ten years as a shop owner, he's never seen anything like it.

needless to say, at the first opportunity, i'm reporting the certifying mechanic to the MTO although it's probably reasonable to assume that the identifying info on the paper is false too.

so now i'm back where i started - hitch-hiking and bumming rides - but it was -26C out there this morning. the guy who eventually stopped for us said he thought i was a lot older because frost had turned my hair white.

Monday, February 8, 2010

some kids....!

saari (3yrs old in march) and i were sitting on the bed (a platform some four feet up off the ground). i was sitting on the edge watching Toopy and Binoo and she was, as usual, jumping in the back corner.

suddenly i hear "NEEEEEEWS-PAPER!!!!!" and a school notebook came sailing across the room to nail me square in the back of the head!

Thursday, February 4, 2010

Book Review: Blood Ties: The Turning by Jennifer Armantrout

in a nutshell: 4 out of 10. if so much.

it's first-person narrative and i *hate* first-person narratives. it's so easy to get wrong - i usually end up feeling like i'm trapped inside of the narrator's skull and banging on the brain-bone trying to get out. i have no picture of the main characters except the heroine is predictably blonde and stunning; the hero is predictably handsome and broody as a battery hen; and the villain is apparently an animated Mr Potato Head since he keeps taking his victim's eyes and using them to replace the one he lost.

the heroine, Carrie Ames, is supposed to be a doctor but except for referring to feeling angst-driven about achieving her MD, you don't get the sense that she actually IS one. there are none of the little details you get in a J D Robb book that tells you the author *knows* what it means to be a doctor (or at least has done some actual research). she's got or she had parents that were not into imagination and were pretty anal about keeping things "real". or something. i dunno. don't care.

as a character, damn, that chick *whines*! everybody hates her, everybody's against her. she goes to confront her fear in a morgue and ends up bat-snack. she has a painless transition that was apparently painful or something. it's all very general and wierd - i felt like i was being rushed along to the Good Parts, like the author was saying "okay, this happened and that happened and then there's this other bit, but get this - check this out!" and whammo - major battle with lots of gore or yet another sex scene. she's supposed to be cool, dedicated, and driven - but she comes off as a self-absorbed whinger. the one situation in emerg that's described in the book, she ends up out in the hallway blowing chunks - and she's supposed to have been a doctor for a full eight months by then!?

the sex is unnecessarily detailed and, in more than one instance, completely gratuitous. i mean, if i wanted sex THAT graphic, i could always have it delivered to my house in a plain brown wrapper. why, by all that's holy, do i need to have an excruciatingly detailed, millimeter-by-millimeter, of the hero's boy bits!? i don't! she could've left it at "my new sire came with a serious upgrade" - that was funny! that was good! that told me all i needed to know! and then she wrecked it with dimensions and so on. i think the author cribbed her sex scenes out of the slimier issues of hustler or was taking notes from some 70s porn on late-night cable or something.

the violence is graphic, too, but no worse than any of my Mack Bolan or Anne Rice books. nothing new there.

not at all thrilled about the use of juveniles. it's not done in a way that makes it clear the author is flouting taboos or is making a statement about how horrible such practices are. there's no personal engagement with the victims so they become just... yeah - "cattle". not even people - just backdrop.

the characters are also from stock - biker vampire bad guys, evil witch (of course she's sultry and red-headed) bad guy, plucky street rat sidekick, yadda.

oh, and of course the good guys who may or may not be good now - they're the council that wants to voluntarily eradicate their own species and of course they look totally normal. one even wears a twinset and pearls. that makes as much sense as those lunatics who think people who have children are destroying the planet and we should voluntarily extinguish ourselves as a species by never having children (whatever happened to "mod-er-ation", people!?).

okay, the bit about the hearts, that was a cool twist.

bottom line: i took the first two books in the series out of the library. i finished the first book and - this is VERY rare for me - was totally not interested in reading the second. i skimmed over the back cover and thought "oh. more of the same" and decided to watch my PVR recording of The Dog Whisperer instead.

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

saari's first skating lesson - that nearly didn't happen!

this is part rant, part brag, lol.

so i've been dealing with the minden figureskating club for weeks.

i drove all the way to peterborough because of all the cities i called, there was only one store that had the skates i wanted to get her: adjustable one from size 12 to 1. okay, they're hockey skates and not girl's skates, but whatever. they fit.

i had to apply for community funding - as they instructed - because the fee is a bit of a stiff touch.

i gave them a cheque for the deposit they required and made sure i had the money in the account.

i spent my entire wood allowance and then some getting her the gear she needed: blade guards ($10), skates sharpened ($5), and helmet.

now, the helmet. let me tell you about the helmet.

i called all over the damn place and you just can't buy second-hand helmets. i can see that; i don't have a problem with it. same thing as car seats. you just never know.

canadian tire in orillia - an hour and a half away, the way i drive - had them on sale for $40 but in haliburton they were $60. oh well, go to haliburton. sigh.

and guess what!???

SHE HAS ONE HELLUVA NOGGIN BECAUSE THE DAMNED KIDS' AND YOUTH SIZES DIDN'T FIT!!!!!

the children's sizes just didn't even go on her head. when the children's size L (approx ages 4 to 6) didn't go on, the girl called in another girl who'd been there longer. she tried all the same helmets and they didn't work. she tried the youth size SM and that didn't fit so she called the manager.

the manager was young but he certainly knew his stuff.

youth size medium - didn't fit.

youth size large - he got it on after a brisk thumping on the top and we had to take it off right away as it was clearly squeezing her head.

adult ultra-small - that fit: her head is 52cm around. alas, it only came in black and she had already seen the green one and the blue one.

so she ended up with this one in an adult size small; bit of extra padding and toque and it fits perfectly and when she outgrows it, i can have it!



how much? $85 freaking dollars!


yesterday was her first day of skating, 5pm to 5:50. at 2pm, i get a phone call. it's the skating club. they have now talked to the coaches and it seems the coaches don't want to deal with a beginner, they want to focus on the girls who have end-of-year routines for the whatever-whatever. they will be happy to hang onto my deposit and credit it toward september.

i just about FREAKED! i said "are you telling me now, after all these weeks, that you didn't even talk to the coaches!? and i'm supposed to tell my daughter who's been bouncing all day about going skating that she can't go for six months!?? are you insane or just smoking crack!???" got the expected sniffy rejoinder about no need to be insulting and i just hung up on her.

i called the haliburton arena - "do you have a contact number for the skating club?"

"we sure do.... it's xxx-xxxx. she's the president." - the minden club has NO contact info posted at the arena or noted in the office at all. you have to go there when they're in session.

i called. chat, chat, "omg, i'm so sorry - i've called you at work!"

"no, no, no problem - i always answer this phone." [niiiiiiiice!!!!]

i explained what happened and she was totally aghast. "come on down, we won't say no."

so i took saari in and she TOTALLY rocked!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

from the very beginning, she stood up straight and tall, even when the girl was pushing her across the ice. she didn't wibble-wobble her ankles about, she didn't lose her balance even when she looked straight up, straight down, and picked a toy up off the ice. she could get up by herself the rare time she did fall on her bum and she could even bunny-hop!

i was SO amazed!

the coach was very excited about her, too, particularly when she learned that that was saari's 3rd time on skates and the first time actually skating. i explained about trying to help her and she said the big mistake parents make is hovering over the child - it makes the kid pull in their arms and hunch their shoulders and it throws off their balance.

she goes back on thursday.

oh - added bonus? the haliburton club is a bit more expensive but the season starts earlier and ends later.

Meddlesome Me

i heat with wood. believe it or not, burning wood for heat is fucking expensive, particularly when you live in the economic toilet of ontario - i am totally not kidding:
Haliburton County's economy is dominated by tourism, due to the regions many lakes and rivers. The ratio of properties occupied in the summer months, to properties occupied year-round is 3 to 1.[4] Employment primarily caters to the needs of this seasonal population, including residential construction, resorts, services and retail.[5] The region is unique in the sense that there is no resource, industrial, or agricultural base[citation needed]. Because of the nature of the economy, the unemployment rate of the area is 8.4%, exceeding the provincial average. This grows to 35% in the winter months.[5] Consequently, Haliburton County is the poorest jurisdiction in the Province of Ontario, with per capita earnings of $32 709 in 2005.[4]

up by North Bay, it's about $150 a cord - a "cord" of firewood measures, by law, 4ft by 4ft by 8ft. here? try $85 a face cord - a "face cord" is 4ft high and 8ft long but can be any depth at all; it's not a legal term but the socially accepted convention anywhere else in the country is three face cords to one bush cord, or, in other words, the pieces are about 16" long, give or take. here? too many have tried to tell me that it's actually four face cords to a bush cord! in other words, they're trying to rake in about $400 a bush cord!

anyway, i don't get garbage collection so i have to take the garbage to the dump. what do i see when i get there? the first thing my eyes set on is a gigantic burning pit - it's used to burn.... wait for it....

WOOD!

trees, shrubs, old wood siding, construction débris - all going up in smoke when it could be heating up my house instead!

i contacted the town about setting that wood aside and selling it to low-income households for heat but the guy couldn't have sounded more disinterested if he'd tried. of course, he didn't just SAY "sorry, not interested". instead, i got the full treatment of how he'd LOVE to make it work BUT the ministry of the environment this and legal liability that and scavenging laws the other and blah, blah until i wanted to puke.

so instead i went to a non-profit organization in another town that runs a program providing heat to low-income families and i pointed them in the direction of a government program that funds community projects that benefit the environment and, with any luck, i'll be able to get some help next winter!






Tuesday, February 2, 2010

My Toddler Likes to Burst My Bubbles 001: "It's lovely that you want to help me. Just, please.... don't!"

she decided to "help" me by "cleaning" the cat box. i use those pine pellets - they're WONDERFUL for eliminating catbox odour and, according to the package, not only compostable but also flushable. [Note to self: must have a gentle word with the manufacturer.]

she used the scoop because there was nothing (or not much) on the floor around the toilet but the entire toilet was completely FULL of pine pellets which absorbed all the water and, by the time i discovered it, had settled into, basically, particleboard - not only the bowl, as i discovered when i was forced to chip it all out using a spoon, but it had worked itself right through the pipes.

so i had no idea what to do - i was scared to use the one-second plumber (a can of highly compressed air) because never mind the seal or the pipes, it probably would've blown up my toilet. corrosives were a no-go because of the septic. i needed something stiff enough to be able to shove into the mass and pick bits out but flexible enough to work through the piping.

if that failed, i would have had to remove the toilet, clean all the bits individually, then - since i'd've had it off anyway - redo the bathroom floor (toilet's falling through) and put it all back together with a new toilet installation kit.

toilet snake - that's the ticket. i went into town the next day and, wincing, paid $17 for a toilet snake. took it home, tossed it on the counter, and went into the basement to get the wood-burning furnace going again. all the while, i was thinking "thin and whippy... thin and whippy...." and suddenly, there it was: the solution to my problem!

grabbing my ex's fly-fishing rod, i headed upstairs and the next day i got my $17 back.

Hate to Burst Your Bubble #002: Your Dog Doesn't Love You

That's the bad news. The good news is that, unless your dog is a psychopath, he doesn't hate you, either. “Love” and “Hate” are human attributes, designed to enhance the survivability of a species born with an auto-destruct sequence already counting down in single digits. Dogs are pack animals - “love” and “hate” does not enhance or foster an atmosphere of cooperation. This is why dogs are great team players and humans suck.

Think about it: a woman – which, for the purpose of this essay, will be used to indicate a female of the human species; the term “bitch”, unless otherwise noted, will indicate a female of the canine persuasion – as I was saying, a woman “loves” a man. The man cheats on her, abuses her, refuses to get off the couch, and spends his time and money drinking. Does she leave him? Probably not: she “loves” him, therefore she is loyal. Now, were a canine pack leader to screw around on his mate (the alpha female, the only one allowed to breed); treat her unjustly and abusively; and spend his time lounging around the cave demanding she serve him rabbit after rabbit; it would be a matter of microseconds before she or the Heir Apparent ripped out his throat and got on with business.

The problem is that in too many human societies, the survival of the woman and her children are not truly dependent on her mate. He doesn't pay the rent? She has relatives and there are any number of victim support agencies to provide the necessary. He doesn't give her money for food? There are food banks and, again, relatives, if she isn't actually bringing in means of her own (which most women these days are). He treats her abusively? Once she gets her head out of her ass, there are legal and social agencies to help with that. In canine society, if the pack leader is ineffective or inefficient, the pack suffers: they lose all or part of their territory to packs with stronger, more effective leaders; young members slip off to join other packs or start packs of their own, stripping the main pack of youthful energy, strength, and vigor; they die by attack, disease, or starvation; and the babies stop coming.

“But what about Greyfriar's Bobby!??” you cry from your wounded heart ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Greyfriars_Bobby ). To that, I say the good burghers should've been shot, one and all. That poor dog was probably the most publicly abused dog in history. His previous owner was not a “loving” owner – he was a calm, assertive, effective, and trustworthy owner, which is why his little companion stayed by his side. When the guy died, Bobby lay down on his grave – why? Obviously at first because he was waiting for his owner to stop playing silly buggers and get his ass out of there but it wouldn't have taken long for his delicate nose to suss out the situation. What happens next? All these stupid monkey people stare at him with pity and sobs and “Oh, look... doesn't it just break your heart?” - they acted as though the dog had died, too, effectively isolating him from the pack! Even worse were the idiots that brought him treats:

“Come, little doggie,” they probably wheedled softly, wistfully, holding out some kind of food. “You can stay with me, you don't need to be here....” but in their hearts and in their minds, they were thinking “Oh, look at that loyal little dog – what a wonderful dog, to love his master with such loyalty!” This translates into doggy language as “I'm a real wussy wimp”, not exactly a character you'd tick at the polls, and then???? The morons give the dog the food! In other words, they rewarded him for laying on the damn grave! Greyfriar's Bobby didn't spend however long it was lying on his master's grave because he was loyal after death – he had been taught pretty thoroughly that he was a dead dog and was just waiting for his body to catch up with the news! Had someone with leadership skills equal to or greater than his previous master's said simply “Come away, boy”, Bobby would've been up and gone without a backward glance.

Okay, maybe one or two.

But then, you wouldn't have your proof that your doggy loves you, would you?

Hate to Burst Your Bubble 001: So It's the Year 2010

I'm a huge sci-fi fan – always have been. Not hard-core – the closest I got to a “collection” was the first nine videotapes of Star Trek: The Next Generation (available from Columbia House for a killer deal at the start and a sucker-punch at the end). No limited-edition polyresin cast figurines of busty babes in thigh-high stilleto boots and scarred leather bomber jackets bearing enough armament to wipe the eastern seaboard off the map or life-size statues of Chewbacca or foil-print murals of Sylvester Stalone as a nude con-sicle.

Oh. Forgot to mention the books. All kinds of books – many books. I'm a bit on the obsessive side when it comes to books. I've had Sears catalogues from the 60s, Reader's Digest from the 40s and 50s, and thirty years' worth of National Geographic, in addition to an insane number of regular books. I don't “do” contemporary – not at all fond of it. I figure if I want contemporary drama and horror, I'll watch the news. If I want contemporary romance, I'll read People Magazine or US. Since I don't, I don't.

I did have a very impressive collection of romance – futuristic and historical; sword and sorcery (aka “S&S”); and science fiction. All the classic sci-fi authors: Heinlein, Clarke, Asimov, yadda. I would read about the dry red dust of Mars and the toxic gas oceans of Jupiter and the ice caves of Pluto and I couldn't wait until the future when we'd have flying cars and sonic showers and robot housekeepers and vacation properties in Dyson Spheres orbiting just off Tau Ceti and accessible by time-space-warping hyperdrive units that could get us there before we left. Medical appointments would be smoothly efficient and streamlined: a scanner would note our arrival, register vital signs and any symptoms, and have our files and any recommendations ready for the doctor who would be greeting us within moments of our appointments.

Of course, I accepted that there was an equally good chance that we'd end up wearing crudely-tanned furs while we guarded our post-apocalyptic bunkers with Mad Max firepower, grew freaky-deaky food, talked to animals via radiation-enhanced mutant abilities, and chewed white willow bark to ease minor aches and pains such as broken legs and tooth extractions.

Well, it's 2010.


While nuclear blackout isn't darkening the sky overhead, neither is aerial vehicular traffic. It's February, 2010, and I still have to pay the bill for my nuclear- and coal-generated hydro; my housekeeper is a manual one that came with a matching dustpan; my appointment was at one and it's now 3:30 because my doctor is in the next town picking his kid up from school and grabbing groceries on the way back; and the only way my coprophagous dog talks to me is by knocking me down or shoving his nose up my crotch.

Hate to Burst Your Bubble - About Me

so i'm threenorns.

some have commented that my lack of CAPITALIZATION indicates insecurity or latent homosexuality. ppl like to see all kinds of deep, hidden meanings and latencies in innocuous tendencies.

of course, it couldn't be that i can't be bothered to reach over for the shift key while i'm typing.

in short: i'm 43, live in canada, have three kids (24, 21, and 3), and i like to write. for some reason, my writing tends to jerk chains but hey - whaddaya gonna do. the one thing you'll never have to worry about is "what did she mean when she said that!?"!