Friday, November 30, 2007
45 x 365 #30: Nicholas
Forget about sermons. Your entire career was judged on your singing skills. We held our breath that first Sunday, but with your luxurious baritone voice, you passed our test. Pew dwellers are harsh, and I think we should have been concerned with more important things.
45 x 365 #30: Nicholas
Forget about sermons. Your entire career was judged on your singing skills. We held our breath that first Sunday, but with your luxurious baritone voice, you passed our test. Pew dwellers are harsh, and I think we should have been concerned with more important things.
Friday's Feast
It's the oh-boy-I'm-stuck-at-work early evening dinner edition of Friday's Feast. The weather outside is frightful. Is the feasting delightful?
Appetizer: What is your favorite carnival/amusement park ride?
Who can choose? There are the SQUISH rides like the Scrambler where, if you're on the inside of the car, you try to get the other person's intestines to come out of their nose, and, if you're on the outside of the car, you resort to tickling, and bracing yourself against the side of the car with your feet to keep your own innards...uh, in. Then there are the roller coasters. Love them! Then there are the spinny spinny floor droppy or centrifugal force rides. Awesome! Then there are the ferris wheels, which seriously are the scariest nastiest rides in the world. Flip me, spin me, squish me, just don't make me be up high for a long leisurely panic attack.
Soup: How do you react in uncomfortable social situations?
By trying to get the other person's intestines to come out of their nose.
Salad: On a scale of 1-10 with 10 being the highest, how much do you enjoy discussing deep philosophical topics?
In person? Maybe not so much. I start thinking about intestines. But on my blog or via email? I'm much better. Maybe because it gives me time to think, or maybe because I can brace myself against the monitor and protect my innards.
Main Course: Did you get a flu shot this year? If not, do you plan to?
Hell no.
And, hell no.
Dessert: Approximately how many hours a week do you spend watching television?
How many hours a week is decent televisiononline on the air?
Appetizer: What is your favorite carnival/amusement park ride?
Who can choose? There are the SQUISH rides like the Scrambler where, if you're on the inside of the car, you try to get the other person's intestines to come out of their nose, and, if you're on the outside of the car, you resort to tickling, and bracing yourself against the side of the car with your feet to keep your own innards...uh, in. Then there are the roller coasters. Love them! Then there are the spinny spinny floor droppy or centrifugal force rides. Awesome! Then there are the ferris wheels, which seriously are the scariest nastiest rides in the world. Flip me, spin me, squish me, just don't make me be up high for a long leisurely panic attack.
Soup: How do you react in uncomfortable social situations?
By trying to get the other person's intestines to come out of their nose.
Salad: On a scale of 1-10 with 10 being the highest, how much do you enjoy discussing deep philosophical topics?
In person? Maybe not so much. I start thinking about intestines. But on my blog or via email? I'm much better. Maybe because it gives me time to think, or maybe because I can brace myself against the monitor and protect my innards.
Main Course: Did you get a flu shot this year? If not, do you plan to?
Hell no.
And, hell no.
Dessert: Approximately how many hours a week do you spend watching television?
How many hours a week is decent television
Friday's Feast
It's the oh-boy-I'm-stuck-at-work early evening dinner edition of Friday's Feast. The weather outside is frightful. Is the feasting delightful?
Appetizer: What is your favorite carnival/amusement park ride?
Who can choose? There are the SQUISH rides like the Scrambler where, if you're on the inside of the car, you try to get the other person's intestines to come out of their nose, and, if you're on the outside of the car, you resort to tickling, and bracing yourself against the side of the car with your feet to keep your own innards...uh, in. Then there are the roller coasters. Love them! Then there are the spinny spinny floor droppy or centrifugal force rides. Awesome! Then there are the ferris wheels, which seriously are the scariest nastiest rides in the world. Flip me, spin me, squish me, just don't make me be up high for a long leisurely panic attack.
Soup: How do you react in uncomfortable social situations?
By trying to get the other person's intestines to come out of their nose.
Salad: On a scale of 1-10 with 10 being the highest, how much do you enjoy discussing deep philosophical topics?
In person? Maybe not so much. I start thinking about intestines. But on my blog or via email? I'm much better. Maybe because it gives me time to think, or maybe because I can brace myself against the monitor and protect my innards.
Main Course: Did you get a flu shot this year? If not, do you plan to?
Hell no.
And, hell no.
Dessert: Approximately how many hours a week do you spend watching television?
How many hours a week is decent televisiononline on the air?
Appetizer: What is your favorite carnival/amusement park ride?
Who can choose? There are the SQUISH rides like the Scrambler where, if you're on the inside of the car, you try to get the other person's intestines to come out of their nose, and, if you're on the outside of the car, you resort to tickling, and bracing yourself against the side of the car with your feet to keep your own innards...uh, in. Then there are the roller coasters. Love them! Then there are the spinny spinny floor droppy or centrifugal force rides. Awesome! Then there are the ferris wheels, which seriously are the scariest nastiest rides in the world. Flip me, spin me, squish me, just don't make me be up high for a long leisurely panic attack.
Soup: How do you react in uncomfortable social situations?
By trying to get the other person's intestines to come out of their nose.
Salad: On a scale of 1-10 with 10 being the highest, how much do you enjoy discussing deep philosophical topics?
In person? Maybe not so much. I start thinking about intestines. But on my blog or via email? I'm much better. Maybe because it gives me time to think, or maybe because I can brace myself against the monitor and protect my innards.
Main Course: Did you get a flu shot this year? If not, do you plan to?
Hell no.
And, hell no.
Dessert: Approximately how many hours a week do you spend watching television?
How many hours a week is decent television
Thursday, November 29, 2007
45 x 365 #29: R.R.
Yours was a long-term actual crime spree that put a community in absolute upheaval for quite some time. The whole story was so bizarre; it appeared in National Lampoon magazine. I didn't know whether to be laugh, be impressed or say I was from Canada.
45 x 365 #29: R.R.
Yours was a long-term actual crime spree that put a community in absolute upheaval for quite some time. The whole story was so bizarre; it appeared in National Lampoon magazine. I didn't know whether to be laugh, be impressed or say I was from Canada.
Practice, Practice, Practice
You'll be glad to know that I refrained from wearing my crazy clothes this morning out of respect for my teenaged daughter and her middle school neuroses. I have to admit though, the stripes, plaids, and beanies with propellers were singing a siren song.
I didn't wear matching socks, though, because I didn't wear socks! I wore a skirt. And a very conservative one at that. TeenTuna approved my outfit that morning, and I looked very respectable, thank you.
Our rehearsal went quite well, and after we went through it once, the conductor left to find the Principal. She came back, with both Principal and Brand New School Superintendant in tow. The Super recognized TeenTuna, and complimented her on her performance as Mrs. Peacock in the school musical, Clue. TeenTuna, bless her everliving heart, executed a perfect combination of grace and humility. She thanked the Superintedant appropriately and then pointed to her friend in the violin section and said, "And there's Miss Scarlett!"
All I could think was, "that was AWESOME."
With the honored guests in attendance, we ran the duet again. All were duly impressed, and in her own middle school way, I know TeenTuna was eating this up. I had great fun, and only got the clench-teethed MOM! twice. Once for humming (I looked at her and said, it's my warmup), and once when we finished and I clunked her on the head with my music and said, "Good job." I suppose out of respect for TeenTuna I should rethink music head clunking in the future.
Maybe I'll just replace it with crazy clothes.
I didn't wear matching socks, though, because I didn't wear socks! I wore a skirt. And a very conservative one at that. TeenTuna approved my outfit that morning, and I looked very respectable, thank you.
Our rehearsal went quite well, and after we went through it once, the conductor left to find the Principal. She came back, with both Principal and Brand New School Superintendant in tow. The Super recognized TeenTuna, and complimented her on her performance as Mrs. Peacock in the school musical, Clue. TeenTuna, bless her everliving heart, executed a perfect combination of grace and humility. She thanked the Superintedant appropriately and then pointed to her friend in the violin section and said, "And there's Miss Scarlett!"
All I could think was, "that was AWESOME."
With the honored guests in attendance, we ran the duet again. All were duly impressed, and in her own middle school way, I know TeenTuna was eating this up. I had great fun, and only got the clench-teethed MOM! twice. Once for humming (I looked at her and said, it's my warmup), and once when we finished and I clunked her on the head with my music and said, "Good job." I suppose out of respect for TeenTuna I should rethink music head clunking in the future.
Maybe I'll just replace it with crazy clothes.
Practice, Practice, Practice
You'll be glad to know that I refrained from wearing my crazy clothes this morning out of respect for my teenaged daughter and her middle school neuroses. I have to admit though, the stripes, plaids, and beanies with propellers were singing a siren song.
I didn't wear matching socks, though, because I didn't wear socks! I wore a skirt. And a very conservative one at that. TeenTuna approved my outfit that morning, and I looked very respectable, thank you.
Our rehearsal went quite well, and after we went through it once, the conductor left to find the Principal. She came back, with both Principal and Brand New School Superintendant in tow. The Super recognized TeenTuna, and complimented her on her performance as Mrs. Peacock in the school musical, Clue. TeenTuna, bless her everliving heart, executed a perfect combination of grace and humility. She thanked the Superintedant appropriately and then pointed to her friend in the violin section and said, "And there's Miss Scarlett!"
All I could think was, "that was AWESOME."
With the honored guests in attendance, we ran the duet again. All were duly impressed, and in her own middle school way, I know TeenTuna was eating this up. I had great fun, and only got the clench-teethed MOM! twice. Once for humming (I looked at her and said, it's my warmup), and once when we finished and I clunked her on the head with my music and said, "Good job." I suppose out of respect for TeenTuna I should rethink music head clunking in the future.
Maybe I'll just replace it with crazy clothes.
I didn't wear matching socks, though, because I didn't wear socks! I wore a skirt. And a very conservative one at that. TeenTuna approved my outfit that morning, and I looked very respectable, thank you.
Our rehearsal went quite well, and after we went through it once, the conductor left to find the Principal. She came back, with both Principal and Brand New School Superintendant in tow. The Super recognized TeenTuna, and complimented her on her performance as Mrs. Peacock in the school musical, Clue. TeenTuna, bless her everliving heart, executed a perfect combination of grace and humility. She thanked the Superintedant appropriately and then pointed to her friend in the violin section and said, "And there's Miss Scarlett!"
All I could think was, "that was AWESOME."
With the honored guests in attendance, we ran the duet again. All were duly impressed, and in her own middle school way, I know TeenTuna was eating this up. I had great fun, and only got the clench-teethed MOM! twice. Once for humming (I looked at her and said, it's my warmup), and once when we finished and I clunked her on the head with my music and said, "Good job." I suppose out of respect for TeenTuna I should rethink music head clunking in the future.
Maybe I'll just replace it with crazy clothes.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
45 x 365 #28: Marilyn K.
You survived me and my antics for seven years, and now it's just weird meeting with you for parent teacher conferences. I try to ask with a straight face if my child is behaving herself, knowing full well her genetic Magic Eight ball says outlook doubtful.
45 x 365 #28: Marilyn K.
You survived me and my antics for seven years, and now it's just weird meeting with you for parent teacher conferences. I try to ask with a straight face if my child is behaving herself, knowing full well her genetic Magic Eight ball says outlook doubtful.
Dash to the Finish
It's Hell Month that wonderfully joyous holiday season again. As TeenTuna and I travel to school each morning we comment on blindingly tacky festively merry decorations on lawns and trees. Our favorite train wrecks objets d'art include three demon trees and a house that looks as if half-deflated winter figurines were regurgitated all over the lawn. Yesterday the snowman looked a little wilted. Today? Penguin was doing his leaning tower of Pisa act. If a saggy flightless arctic bird doesn't say Ho! Ho! Ho! I don't know what does.
Actually, I do know what does.
ANYTHING ELSE.
I'm not being Scroogy. It's just that December in musician-land is hands down, the worst month in the calendar year. From last Sunday (November 25th) someone in our household has either a rehearsal or performance every single day until ... December 21st. No kidding. It's like I want to look up into the heavens and yell, "OK, Baby G -- Just be BORN ALREADY!"
Five Gold Rings!
Tomorrow's schedule, for example is typical in that it is anything but. At 9am, I will be traveling to the Middle School to rehearse with the 8th grade orchestra where TeenTuna and I will be singing a duet -- French Grand Opera, if you must know -- accompanied by children who cannot play in five sharps, so it must be transposed up a half step which means High C's for EVERYONE! (Or just me)
Cinq anneaux d'or!
TeenTuna hemmed and hawed tonight about our upcoming rehearsal at school and ever-so-gingerly asked me that tomorrow....you know...if I couldn't...uh...
and then she started gesturing at my clothes.
"GET DRESSED UP?" I asked.
"Well, yeah," she said.
"I was planning on wearing a skirt. Is that ok?"
"Yeah. You know I want you to look...uh...."
"NICE?"
"Well, yeah. You know. It's school. It's all about appearances."
As she traipsed out of the room, I called out, "Remember what's more important. Is it the person or the clothes?"
"The person" she said reluctantly.
"You mean the person wearing the right clothes," I grumbled to myself.
"EXACTLY!" She yelled.
Ow.
So after our 8th grade rehearsal, I'm off to teach, and later that evening TeenTuna has a rehearsal with the University Symphony (3 hours! Night One of Three! Check your vocal cords at the door!), I have choir and then we gather each other up, head home and get ready to do much of it all over again on Friday.
Cinque anelli dell'oro!
But I have to admit, when it's all said and done, and the last concert is sung and Christmas is waving Sayonara in the rear view mirror as we are make our way East like the Kings of Old (sans camels and myrrh), we'll look back at theschedule of insanity calendar brimming with merriment and good cheer, and remember what a great time we had what a great time we had.
5 つの金の指輪
Actually, I do know what does.
ANYTHING ELSE.
I'm not being Scroogy. It's just that December in musician-land is hands down, the worst month in the calendar year. From last Sunday (November 25th) someone in our household has either a rehearsal or performance every single day until ... December 21st. No kidding. It's like I want to look up into the heavens and yell, "OK, Baby G -- Just be BORN ALREADY!"
Five Gold Rings!
Tomorrow's schedule, for example is typical in that it is anything but. At 9am, I will be traveling to the Middle School to rehearse with the 8th grade orchestra where TeenTuna and I will be singing a duet -- French Grand Opera, if you must know -- accompanied by children who cannot play in five sharps, so it must be transposed up a half step which means High C's for EVERYONE! (Or just me)
Cinq anneaux d'or!
TeenTuna hemmed and hawed tonight about our upcoming rehearsal at school and ever-so-gingerly asked me that tomorrow....you know...if I couldn't...uh...
and then she started gesturing at my clothes.
"GET DRESSED UP?" I asked.
"Well, yeah," she said.
"I was planning on wearing a skirt. Is that ok?"
"Yeah. You know I want you to look...uh...."
"NICE?"
"Well, yeah. You know. It's school. It's all about appearances."
As she traipsed out of the room, I called out, "Remember what's more important. Is it the person or the clothes?"
"The person" she said reluctantly.
"You mean the person wearing the right clothes," I grumbled to myself.
"EXACTLY!" She yelled.
Ow.
So after our 8th grade rehearsal, I'm off to teach, and later that evening TeenTuna has a rehearsal with the University Symphony (3 hours! Night One of Three! Check your vocal cords at the door!), I have choir and then we gather each other up, head home and get ready to do much of it all over again on Friday.
Cinque anelli dell'oro!
But I have to admit, when it's all said and done, and the last concert is sung and Christmas is waving Sayonara in the rear view mirror as we are make our way East like the Kings of Old (sans camels and myrrh), we'll look back at the
5 つの金の指輪
Dash to the Finish
It's Hell Month that wonderfully joyous holiday season again. As TeenTuna and I travel to school each morning we comment on blindingly tacky festively merry decorations on lawns and trees. Our favorite train wrecks objets d'art include three demon trees and a house that looks as if half-deflated winter figurines were regurgitated all over the lawn. Yesterday the snowman looked a little wilted. Today? Penguin was doing his leaning tower of Pisa act. If a saggy flightless arctic bird doesn't say Ho! Ho! Ho! I don't know what does.
Actually, I do know what does.
ANYTHING ELSE.
I'm not being Scroogy. It's just that December in musician-land is hands down, the worst month in the calendar year. From last Sunday (November 25th) someone in our household has either a rehearsal or performance every single day until ... December 21st. No kidding. It's like I want to look up into the heavens and yell, "OK, Baby G -- Just be BORN ALREADY!"
Five Gold Rings!
Tomorrow's schedule, for example is typical in that it is anything but. At 9am, I will be traveling to the Middle School to rehearse with the 8th grade orchestra where TeenTuna and I will be singing a duet -- French Grand Opera, if you must know -- accompanied by children who cannot play in five sharps, so it must be transposed up a half step which means High C's for EVERYONE! (Or just me)
Cinq anneaux d'or!
TeenTuna hemmed and hawed tonight about our upcoming rehearsal at school and ever-so-gingerly asked me that tomorrow....you know...if I couldn't...uh...
and then she started gesturing at my clothes.
"GET DRESSED UP?" I asked.
"Well, yeah," she said.
"I was planning on wearing a skirt. Is that ok?"
"Yeah. You know I want you to look...uh...."
"NICE?"
"Well, yeah. You know. It's school. It's all about appearances."
As she traipsed out of the room, I called out, "Remember what's more important. Is it the person or the clothes?"
"The person" she said reluctantly.
"You mean the person wearing the right clothes," I grumbled to myself.
"EXACTLY!" She yelled.
Ow.
So after our 8th grade rehearsal, I'm off to teach, and later that evening TeenTuna has a rehearsal with the University Symphony (3 hours! Night One of Three! Check your vocal cords at the door!), I have choir and then we gather each other up, head home and get ready to do much of it all over again on Friday.
Cinque anelli dell'oro!
But I have to admit, when it's all said and done, and the last concert is sung and Christmas is waving Sayonara in the rear view mirror as we are make our way East like the Kings of Old (sans camels and myrrh), we'll look back at theschedule of insanity calendar brimming with merriment and good cheer, and remember what a great time we had what a great time we had.
5 つの金の指輪
Actually, I do know what does.
ANYTHING ELSE.
I'm not being Scroogy. It's just that December in musician-land is hands down, the worst month in the calendar year. From last Sunday (November 25th) someone in our household has either a rehearsal or performance every single day until ... December 21st. No kidding. It's like I want to look up into the heavens and yell, "OK, Baby G -- Just be BORN ALREADY!"
Five Gold Rings!
Tomorrow's schedule, for example is typical in that it is anything but. At 9am, I will be traveling to the Middle School to rehearse with the 8th grade orchestra where TeenTuna and I will be singing a duet -- French Grand Opera, if you must know -- accompanied by children who cannot play in five sharps, so it must be transposed up a half step which means High C's for EVERYONE! (Or just me)
Cinq anneaux d'or!
TeenTuna hemmed and hawed tonight about our upcoming rehearsal at school and ever-so-gingerly asked me that tomorrow....you know...if I couldn't...uh...
and then she started gesturing at my clothes.
"GET DRESSED UP?" I asked.
"Well, yeah," she said.
"I was planning on wearing a skirt. Is that ok?"
"Yeah. You know I want you to look...uh...."
"NICE?"
"Well, yeah. You know. It's school. It's all about appearances."
As she traipsed out of the room, I called out, "Remember what's more important. Is it the person or the clothes?"
"The person" she said reluctantly.
"You mean the person wearing the right clothes," I grumbled to myself.
"EXACTLY!" She yelled.
Ow.
So after our 8th grade rehearsal, I'm off to teach, and later that evening TeenTuna has a rehearsal with the University Symphony (3 hours! Night One of Three! Check your vocal cords at the door!), I have choir and then we gather each other up, head home and get ready to do much of it all over again on Friday.
Cinque anelli dell'oro!
But I have to admit, when it's all said and done, and the last concert is sung and Christmas is waving Sayonara in the rear view mirror as we are make our way East like the Kings of Old (sans camels and myrrh), we'll look back at the
5 つの金の指輪
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
45 x 365 #27: The Rev
You were Easter music on the porch, and it seemed you were everywhere all the time doing everything. This was partly because you were talented, partly because you were easily bored, and mostly because you had severe commitment issues. Sadly, that applied to people, too.
45 x 365 #27: The Rev
You were Easter music on the porch, and it seemed you were everywhere all the time doing everything. This was partly because you were talented, partly because you were easily bored, and mostly because you had severe commitment issues. Sadly, that applied to people, too.
The Purpose-Driven Routine
Life in the Tuna household revolves around the bulletin board and the sea of handouts, schedules, special notices and other important scraps that are stuck haphazardly with push pins. Towering above it all is the master Google Calendar, which lists where everybody is supposed to be at all times. We come to rely on that calendar, both on paper and online to make sure we have our schedules and our lives straight. It's a chore, but with a little bit of planning we've gotten it down to a fairly smooth routine.
I would never describe our life as routine. Routinely insane, yes. But amid our seemingly frantic pace, we try to keep as much consistency in our day to day routine as is humanly possible. It's better for everyone that way, and it keeps the pace down to a manageable level.
When TeenTuna was just a TinyTuna, routine was a critical component of daily existence. In fact, part of her morning routine was to sit down and go over the plan. Without a daily briefing of the plan life would pretty much be 24-hour disaster from start to finish. Over the years her ability to cope with the unplanned has improved, and I'm pleased to report that now she is much more of a go-with-the-flow kind of teenager.
From comforting to mind-numbing drudgery, routines come in all different flavors. But the hardest ones to swallow are those routines that seem to be pointless. Walking the treadmill that goes nowhere, it's easy to ask HOW LONG, LORD? The answer isn't necessarily easy.
The trick with routines --particularly the pointless ones -- is focusing on the bigger goal, which in and of itself can be hard to accept. Sometimes it's hard to recognize what the bigger goal even is, and sometimes the desired results don't turn out just the way you'd like or on your preferred time schedule. Spend a few minutes pondering all those unknown and potentially undesirable results and you find yourself faced with a fairly compelling argument to get off the treadmill altogether.
Sometimes though, it's worth it to keep walking. A little bit farther. Just to see what happens. It never hurts to take a few more steps in the name of faith. And who knows? The time may just come in this purpose-driven routine when you find yourself going somewhere.
I would never describe our life as routine. Routinely insane, yes. But amid our seemingly frantic pace, we try to keep as much consistency in our day to day routine as is humanly possible. It's better for everyone that way, and it keeps the pace down to a manageable level.
When TeenTuna was just a TinyTuna, routine was a critical component of daily existence. In fact, part of her morning routine was to sit down and go over the plan. Without a daily briefing of the plan life would pretty much be 24-hour disaster from start to finish. Over the years her ability to cope with the unplanned has improved, and I'm pleased to report that now she is much more of a go-with-the-flow kind of teenager.
From comforting to mind-numbing drudgery, routines come in all different flavors. But the hardest ones to swallow are those routines that seem to be pointless. Walking the treadmill that goes nowhere, it's easy to ask HOW LONG, LORD? The answer isn't necessarily easy.
The trick with routines --particularly the pointless ones -- is focusing on the bigger goal, which in and of itself can be hard to accept. Sometimes it's hard to recognize what the bigger goal even is, and sometimes the desired results don't turn out just the way you'd like or on your preferred time schedule. Spend a few minutes pondering all those unknown and potentially undesirable results and you find yourself faced with a fairly compelling argument to get off the treadmill altogether.
Sometimes though, it's worth it to keep walking. A little bit farther. Just to see what happens. It never hurts to take a few more steps in the name of faith. And who knows? The time may just come in this purpose-driven routine when you find yourself going somewhere.
The Purpose-Driven Routine
Life in the Tuna household revolves around the bulletin board and the sea of handouts, schedules, special notices and other important scraps that are stuck haphazardly with push pins. Towering above it all is the master Google Calendar, which lists where everybody is supposed to be at all times. We come to rely on that calendar, both on paper and online to make sure we have our schedules and our lives straight. It's a chore, but with a little bit of planning we've gotten it down to a fairly smooth routine.
I would never describe our life as routine. Routinely insane, yes. But amid our seemingly frantic pace, we try to keep as much consistency in our day to day routine as is humanly possible. It's better for everyone that way, and it keeps the pace down to a manageable level.
When TeenTuna was just a TinyTuna, routine was a critical component of daily existence. In fact, part of her morning routine was to sit down and go over the plan. Without a daily briefing of the plan life would pretty much be 24-hour disaster from start to finish. Over the years her ability to cope with the unplanned has improved, and I'm pleased to report that now she is much more of a go-with-the-flow kind of teenager.
From comforting to mind-numbing drudgery, routines come in all different flavors. But the hardest ones to swallow are those routines that seem to be pointless. Walking the treadmill that goes nowhere, it's easy to ask HOW LONG, LORD? The answer isn't necessarily easy.
The trick with routines --particularly the pointless ones -- is focusing on the bigger goal, which in and of itself can be hard to accept. Sometimes it's hard to recognize what the bigger goal even is, and sometimes the desired results don't turn out just the way you'd like or on your preferred time schedule. Spend a few minutes pondering all those unknown and potentially undesirable results and you find yourself faced with a fairly compelling argument to get off the treadmill altogether.
Sometimes though, it's worth it to keep walking. A little bit farther. Just to see what happens. It never hurts to take a few more steps in the name of faith. And who knows? The time may just come in this purpose-driven routine when you find yourself going somewhere.
I would never describe our life as routine. Routinely insane, yes. But amid our seemingly frantic pace, we try to keep as much consistency in our day to day routine as is humanly possible. It's better for everyone that way, and it keeps the pace down to a manageable level.
When TeenTuna was just a TinyTuna, routine was a critical component of daily existence. In fact, part of her morning routine was to sit down and go over the plan. Without a daily briefing of the plan life would pretty much be 24-hour disaster from start to finish. Over the years her ability to cope with the unplanned has improved, and I'm pleased to report that now she is much more of a go-with-the-flow kind of teenager.
From comforting to mind-numbing drudgery, routines come in all different flavors. But the hardest ones to swallow are those routines that seem to be pointless. Walking the treadmill that goes nowhere, it's easy to ask HOW LONG, LORD? The answer isn't necessarily easy.
The trick with routines --particularly the pointless ones -- is focusing on the bigger goal, which in and of itself can be hard to accept. Sometimes it's hard to recognize what the bigger goal even is, and sometimes the desired results don't turn out just the way you'd like or on your preferred time schedule. Spend a few minutes pondering all those unknown and potentially undesirable results and you find yourself faced with a fairly compelling argument to get off the treadmill altogether.
Sometimes though, it's worth it to keep walking. A little bit farther. Just to see what happens. It never hurts to take a few more steps in the name of faith. And who knows? The time may just come in this purpose-driven routine when you find yourself going somewhere.
Monday, November 26, 2007
45 x 365 #26: Matt H.
In grad school we took the department by storm: singing, conducting, playing, competing here there and everywhere. But graduation and new opportunities took us in different directions and I haven't seen you since our kids were six weeks old. Thirteen years is far too long.
45 x 365 #26: Matt H.
In grad school we took the department by storm: singing, conducting, playing, competing here there and everywhere. But graduation and new opportunities took us in different directions and I haven't seen you since our kids were six weeks old. Thirteen years is far too long.
Equal Opportunity Offender
Achmed the Dead Terrorist.
I KILL YOU!
Mike Birbiglia
I woke up in the morning.....
Equal Opportunity Offender
Achmed the Dead Terrorist.
I KILL YOU!
Mike Birbiglia
I woke up in the morning.....
Sunday, November 25, 2007
45 x 365 #25: Betty W.
You were stop number one in daycare hell. When my child got banished to the back for singing and dancing in front of the television, it was time to leave. Under your care she learned how to stifle her creativity and swear like a sailor.
45 x 365 #25: Betty W.
You were stop number one in daycare hell. When my child got banished to the back for singing and dancing in front of the television, it was time to leave. Under your care she learned how to stifle her creativity and swear like a sailor.
Unconscious Mutterings
I say ... And You Think ::
1. Filthy :: Dirty
2. Therapist :: Troubles
3. Duck :: Duck Goose
4. Slant :: Angle
5. Artist :: Creator
6. Lease :: Rent
7. Wish :: Upon a star
8. Doormat :: Someone who gets stepped on
9. Global :: Warming
10. Apartment :: Building
Hrmph. These are mostly negative Nelly answers this morning. Oh well. Maybe I can wish upon a star and change my outlook. Or go see a therapist. Or simply settle for a rousing game of duck, duck, goose.
1. Filthy :: Dirty
2. Therapist :: Troubles
3. Duck :: Duck Goose
4. Slant :: Angle
5. Artist :: Creator
6. Lease :: Rent
7. Wish :: Upon a star
8. Doormat :: Someone who gets stepped on
9. Global :: Warming
10. Apartment :: Building
Hrmph. These are mostly negative Nelly answers this morning. Oh well. Maybe I can wish upon a star and change my outlook. Or go see a therapist. Or simply settle for a rousing game of duck, duck, goose.
Unconscious Mutterings
I say ... And You Think ::
1. Filthy :: Dirty
2. Therapist :: Troubles
3. Duck :: Duck Goose
4. Slant :: Angle
5. Artist :: Creator
6. Lease :: Rent
7. Wish :: Upon a star
8. Doormat :: Someone who gets stepped on
9. Global :: Warming
10. Apartment :: Building
Hrmph. These are mostly negative Nelly answers this morning. Oh well. Maybe I can wish upon a star and change my outlook. Or go see a therapist. Or simply settle for a rousing game of duck, duck, goose.
1. Filthy :: Dirty
2. Therapist :: Troubles
3. Duck :: Duck Goose
4. Slant :: Angle
5. Artist :: Creator
6. Lease :: Rent
7. Wish :: Upon a star
8. Doormat :: Someone who gets stepped on
9. Global :: Warming
10. Apartment :: Building
Hrmph. These are mostly negative Nelly answers this morning. Oh well. Maybe I can wish upon a star and change my outlook. Or go see a therapist. Or simply settle for a rousing game of duck, duck, goose.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
45 x 365 #24: Nephew Tuna
You have an impish grin and a biting wit. You love animals, you are sensitive and kind, yet you have a wicked sense of humor. I adore your laugh because you love life and I can't help but feel the same when I'm around you.
45 x 365 #24: Nephew Tuna
You have an impish grin and a biting wit. You love animals, you are sensitive and kind, yet you have a wicked sense of humor. I adore your laugh because you love life and I can't help but feel the same when I'm around you.
A Non-Rockwellian Evening
Although the following conversations were most certainly NOT a part of the idyllic Thanksgiving Celebration depicted above, they were a part of mine. However, the jury is still out on the guy peering into the picture from the lower right hand corner. Don't you think he has that look that asks, "Did you fart?"
BigSister Tuna: Did you see that commercial for Happy Crack?
GreenTuna: WHAT?
BSTuna: Yeah. Happy crack. He's a cartoon guy and he's happy.
GreenTuna: Why?
BSTuna: It's a cement commercial. He was sad because he had wet crack but now he has dry crack and he's happy.
GreenTuna: Dry Crack? Is this a cement commercial or a toilet paper commercial?
NephewTuna: DRY CRACK!! TOILET PAPER!! HAHAHAHAHAHA
BigBrotherTuna: I better NOT hear this coming back from school!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
BigBrotherTuna: First and goal.
NephewTuna: Goat?
GramTuna: (from the kitchen) I'M NOT SERVING ANY GOATS!
GreenTuna: Aw, no goats.
GreenTuna and BSTuna: They've been Baaaaaaaaad!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
NephewTuna: THIRD OVERTIME!!
TallGuyTuna: They HAVE to go for two (extra points) in the third overtime.
GreenTuna: Really? I didn't know that.
BigBrotherTuna: Yeah. By this time they're trying to wrap things up.
GreenTuna: So what happens if it goes to a fourth overtime? Go for two and then have a spelling bee?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nephew Tuna: Dad, did you fart?
BigBrother Tuna: No I didn't. ... Did you?
Nephew Tuna: (thinking)........oh yeah, I did!!
BigSister Tuna: Did you see that commercial for Happy Crack?
GreenTuna: WHAT?
BSTuna: Yeah. Happy crack. He's a cartoon guy and he's happy.
GreenTuna: Why?
BSTuna: It's a cement commercial. He was sad because he had wet crack but now he has dry crack and he's happy.
GreenTuna: Dry Crack? Is this a cement commercial or a toilet paper commercial?
NephewTuna: DRY CRACK!! TOILET PAPER!! HAHAHAHAHAHA
BigBrotherTuna: I better NOT hear this coming back from school!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
BigBrotherTuna: First and goal.
NephewTuna: Goat?
GramTuna: (from the kitchen) I'M NOT SERVING ANY GOATS!
GreenTuna: Aw, no goats.
GreenTuna and BSTuna: They've been Baaaaaaaaad!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
NephewTuna: THIRD OVERTIME!!
TallGuyTuna: They HAVE to go for two (extra points) in the third overtime.
GreenTuna: Really? I didn't know that.
BigBrotherTuna: Yeah. By this time they're trying to wrap things up.
GreenTuna: So what happens if it goes to a fourth overtime? Go for two and then have a spelling bee?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nephew Tuna: Dad, did you fart?
BigBrother Tuna: No I didn't. ... Did you?
Nephew Tuna: (thinking)........oh yeah, I did!!
A Non-Rockwellian Evening
Although the following conversations were most certainly NOT a part of the idyllic Thanksgiving Celebration depicted above, they were a part of mine. However, the jury is still out on the guy peering into the picture from the lower right hand corner. Don't you think he has that look that asks, "Did you fart?"
BigSister Tuna: Did you see that commercial for Happy Crack?
GreenTuna: WHAT?
BSTuna: Yeah. Happy crack. He's a cartoon guy and he's happy.
GreenTuna: Why?
BSTuna: It's a cement commercial. He was sad because he had wet crack but now he has dry crack and he's happy.
GreenTuna: Dry Crack? Is this a cement commercial or a toilet paper commercial?
NephewTuna: DRY CRACK!! TOILET PAPER!! HAHAHAHAHAHA
BigBrotherTuna: I better NOT hear this coming back from school!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
BigBrotherTuna: First and goal.
NephewTuna: Goat?
GramTuna: (from the kitchen) I'M NOT SERVING ANY GOATS!
GreenTuna: Aw, no goats.
GreenTuna and BSTuna: They've been Baaaaaaaaad!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
NephewTuna: THIRD OVERTIME!!
TallGuyTuna: They HAVE to go for two (extra points) in the third overtime.
GreenTuna: Really? I didn't know that.
BigBrotherTuna: Yeah. By this time they're trying to wrap things up.
GreenTuna: So what happens if it goes to a fourth overtime? Go for two and then have a spelling bee?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nephew Tuna: Dad, did you fart?
BigBrother Tuna: No I didn't. ... Did you?
Nephew Tuna: (thinking)........oh yeah, I did!!
BigSister Tuna: Did you see that commercial for Happy Crack?
GreenTuna: WHAT?
BSTuna: Yeah. Happy crack. He's a cartoon guy and he's happy.
GreenTuna: Why?
BSTuna: It's a cement commercial. He was sad because he had wet crack but now he has dry crack and he's happy.
GreenTuna: Dry Crack? Is this a cement commercial or a toilet paper commercial?
NephewTuna: DRY CRACK!! TOILET PAPER!! HAHAHAHAHAHA
BigBrotherTuna: I better NOT hear this coming back from school!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
BigBrotherTuna: First and goal.
NephewTuna: Goat?
GramTuna: (from the kitchen) I'M NOT SERVING ANY GOATS!
GreenTuna: Aw, no goats.
GreenTuna and BSTuna: They've been Baaaaaaaaad!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
NephewTuna: THIRD OVERTIME!!
TallGuyTuna: They HAVE to go for two (extra points) in the third overtime.
GreenTuna: Really? I didn't know that.
BigBrotherTuna: Yeah. By this time they're trying to wrap things up.
GreenTuna: So what happens if it goes to a fourth overtime? Go for two and then have a spelling bee?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nephew Tuna: Dad, did you fart?
BigBrother Tuna: No I didn't. ... Did you?
Nephew Tuna: (thinking)........oh yeah, I did!!
Friday, November 23, 2007
45 x 365 #23: Sharon B.
You were sweet, nice, quiet, shy, good, well-behaved, tender-hearted and boring. The boys threw tomatoes at you which wasn't nice, but when they sent me a don't get well soon card and signed your name, I thought it was funny as hell. Sorry about that.
45 x 365 #23: Sharon B.
You were sweet, nice, quiet, shy, good, well-behaved, tender-hearted and boring. The boys threw tomatoes at you which wasn't nice, but when they sent me a don't get well soon card and signed your name, I thought it was funny as hell. Sorry about that.
The Gospel of Black Friday
Unless you live in a cave, you're probably aware of the fact that today is Black Friday meaning all the rest of the crayons in the box are thrown away and you're stuck drawing pictures of the insides of cows and all those channels on TV you wish you got, if only your cave got any reception.
OK, that might not be terribly accurate.
Black Friday is the opening day of the holiday shopping season. The holiday, of course, is the one and only Christmas which celebrates the birth of the big guy, Baby Jesus ("Baby G" for short). Yes, I know that Hanukkah and Kwanzaa also falls into the December/January mix, but with eight presents to buy for Hanukkah they just aren't of the scope we're talking about today, and as for Kwanzaa, it's only about 40 years old, so according to the gift-giving list, we're only talking paper or tin or cotton or something.
Today's newspaper boasted -- yes, BOASTED -- over 800 pages of ads, with five pages of actual news thrown in for the purists, much of which talked about the amazing 800 pages of ads. But fear not, by close examination of the colorful newspaper, there can be much to learn about the upcoming holidays and the birthday boy. With a little interpretive help from yours truly (you're welcome!)
OK, that might not be terribly accurate.
Black Friday is the opening day of the holiday shopping season. The holiday, of course, is the one and only Christmas which celebrates the birth of the big guy, Baby Jesus ("Baby G" for short). Yes, I know that Hanukkah and Kwanzaa also falls into the December/January mix, but with eight presents to buy for Hanukkah they just aren't of the scope we're talking about today, and as for Kwanzaa, it's only about 40 years old, so according to the gift-giving list, we're only talking paper or tin or cotton or something.
Today's newspaper boasted -- yes, BOASTED -- over 800 pages of ads, with five pages of actual news thrown in for the purists, much of which talked about the amazing 800 pages of ads. But fear not, by close examination of the colorful newspaper, there can be much to learn about the upcoming holidays and the birthday boy. With a little interpretive help from yours truly (you're welcome!)
- Baby G wants a TV.
- Baby G wants a big TV.
- Baby G would prefer an HDTV because he's cutting edge.
- Baby G doesn't want a Wii because he knows there is a shortage so he isn't even going to ask.
- Baby G will take a washer and dryer, but you must realize this would be a last resort kind of present, because they are always on the last two pages of the Gospel According to Big Box, following all the pages of big screen HDTVs.
- Baby G DOES NOT WANT exercise equipment. That is a January-only gift, and even if it is on page one of the sporting goods circular, it's only for overachievers or people who do not understand the natural progression of holidays (Mini Snickers -- Turkey -- COOKIES -- Treadmill).
- Baby G says he already has a cell phone, thanks.
- Baby G REALLY wants a GPS system, but not for himself. He'd pass it along to the Kings, who took their own sweet time showing up with the goods. Maybe what they need is an annoyed voice keeping them on the straight and narrow. Recalculating... Recalculating... Recalculating..
- Baby G thinks ottomans with hidden storage are the sweet because you could totally hide loaves and fishes in there and impress your friends.
- Baby G wonders why he is still subjected to Circuit City ads, for lo, they packed up and left last year.
- Baby G says you couldn't pay him enough money to walk into a furniture store because pushy doesn't even begin to describe them.
- Baby G thinks power tools are pretty cool, but isn't interested in pressure washers. It's like getting socks and underwear.
- Baby G wonders about ads that are thicker than the entire Book of Job. Of course, enduring some of those stores would be right up there with everything else Job had to go through, so maybe it all comes out even in the end.
- Baby G wonders if anybody has ever bought a Kitchen-Aid Stand mixer at full price.
- Baby G hints cashmere is a HUGE improvement over hay. Just sayin'...
- Baby G says Brown + Zune = Lame. Even at 60% off, it's 100% LAME.
- Baby G knows he would kick ass playing Guitar Hero III.
- Baby G wonders if anybody who plays tennis wears a tennis bracelet while playing tennis.
- Baby G thinks buying presents at the drug store is just tacky.
- Baby G scoffs at the idea of doorbusters because once you've torn down the temple, everything else is a distant second.
The Gospel of Black Friday
Unless you live in a cave, you're probably aware of the fact that today is Black Friday meaning all the rest of the crayons in the box are thrown away and you're stuck drawing pictures of the insides of cows and all those channels on TV you wish you got, if only your cave got any reception.
OK, that might not be terribly accurate.
Black Friday is the opening day of the holiday shopping season. The holiday, of course, is the one and only Christmas which celebrates the birth of the big guy, Baby Jesus ("Baby G" for short). Yes, I know that Hanukkah and Kwanzaa also falls into the December/January mix, but with eight presents to buy for Hanukkah they just aren't of the scope we're talking about today, and as for Kwanzaa, it's only about 40 years old, so according to the gift-giving list, we're only talking paper or tin or cotton or something.
Today's newspaper boasted -- yes, BOASTED -- over 800 pages of ads, with five pages of actual news thrown in for the purists, much of which talked about the amazing 800 pages of ads. But fear not, by close examination of the colorful newspaper, there can be much to learn about the upcoming holidays and the birthday boy. With a little interpretive help from yours truly (you're welcome!)
OK, that might not be terribly accurate.
Black Friday is the opening day of the holiday shopping season. The holiday, of course, is the one and only Christmas which celebrates the birth of the big guy, Baby Jesus ("Baby G" for short). Yes, I know that Hanukkah and Kwanzaa also falls into the December/January mix, but with eight presents to buy for Hanukkah they just aren't of the scope we're talking about today, and as for Kwanzaa, it's only about 40 years old, so according to the gift-giving list, we're only talking paper or tin or cotton or something.
Today's newspaper boasted -- yes, BOASTED -- over 800 pages of ads, with five pages of actual news thrown in for the purists, much of which talked about the amazing 800 pages of ads. But fear not, by close examination of the colorful newspaper, there can be much to learn about the upcoming holidays and the birthday boy. With a little interpretive help from yours truly (you're welcome!)
- Baby G wants a TV.
- Baby G wants a big TV.
- Baby G would prefer an HDTV because he's cutting edge.
- Baby G doesn't want a Wii because he knows there is a shortage so he isn't even going to ask.
- Baby G will take a washer and dryer, but you must realize this would be a last resort kind of present, because they are always on the last two pages of the Gospel According to Big Box, following all the pages of big screen HDTVs.
- Baby G DOES NOT WANT exercise equipment. That is a January-only gift, and even if it is on page one of the sporting goods circular, it's only for overachievers or people who do not understand the natural progression of holidays (Mini Snickers -- Turkey -- COOKIES -- Treadmill).
- Baby G says he already has a cell phone, thanks.
- Baby G REALLY wants a GPS system, but not for himself. He'd pass it along to the Kings, who took their own sweet time showing up with the goods. Maybe what they need is an annoyed voice keeping them on the straight and narrow. Recalculating... Recalculating... Recalculating..
- Baby G thinks ottomans with hidden storage are the sweet because you could totally hide loaves and fishes in there and impress your friends.
- Baby G wonders why he is still subjected to Circuit City ads, for lo, they packed up and left last year.
- Baby G says you couldn't pay him enough money to walk into a furniture store because pushy doesn't even begin to describe them.
- Baby G thinks power tools are pretty cool, but isn't interested in pressure washers. It's like getting socks and underwear.
- Baby G wonders about ads that are thicker than the entire Book of Job. Of course, enduring some of those stores would be right up there with everything else Job had to go through, so maybe it all comes out even in the end.
- Baby G wonders if anybody has ever bought a Kitchen-Aid Stand mixer at full price.
- Baby G hints cashmere is a HUGE improvement over hay. Just sayin'...
- Baby G says Brown + Zune = Lame. Even at 60% off, it's 100% LAME.
- Baby G knows he would kick ass playing Guitar Hero III.
- Baby G wonders if anybody who plays tennis wears a tennis bracelet while playing tennis.
- Baby G thinks buying presents at the drug store is just tacky.
- Baby G scoffs at the idea of doorbusters because once you've torn down the temple, everything else is a distant second.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
45 x 365 #22: Clayton
We sang everything together in grad school. Because you were the tenor and I was the soprano, it was always about us. Friday nights were spent at your house playing drunken Pictionary®, crumpling used drawings and watching the cats go crazy on the hardwood floors.
45 x 365 #22: Clayton
We sang everything together in grad school. Because you were the tenor and I was the soprano, it was always about us. Friday nights were spent at your house playing drunken Pictionary®, crumpling used drawings and watching the cats go crazy on the hardwood floors.
Sage Advice
Courtesy of my friends at Storypeople here is some timely advice for those of you planning to go over the river, through the woods, across the town, around the block, or just to your front door to let in other people intent on eating all your pumpkin pie.
Sage Advice
Courtesy of my friends at Storypeople here is some timely advice for those of you planning to go over the river, through the woods, across the town, around the block, or just to your front door to let in other people intent on eating all your pumpkin pie.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Thankful Things
For some people, Thanksgiving is the day when you stand and make a formal declaration of thankful things. I've never been one to compile a Thanksgiving day laundry list of things. Like New Years resolutions (another exercise I whole-heartedly do NOT endorse), being thankful should ongoing event -- much like breathing -- and not an activity you engage in once a year because the television or the calendar or the daily devotion tells you so.
Thankful things are things that exist just because or in spite of. They are a wonderful blessing, but because they are intangible, they are hard to see. It's one thing to be thankful for specific people, but it's quite another to be thankful for the goodness and light they bring to your own. It's one thing to be thankful for specific items or events, but it's quite another to be thankful for the impact they have had on your life.
Discovering thankful things requires looking inside oneself and recognizing positive forces and influences. It means accepting that you are so much more than a Proper Noun. You're a verb. You're in motion -- growing, changing, evolving. Once you accept that, you can sense the thankful things that surround you and recognize how they work and move in concert within your own life.
But don't be content with the discovery of thankful things. Work to be be a thankful thing. Work to do things that will bring goodness and light and love and hope to others. It can be difficult to do for others without the guarantee of thanks or recognition. It's easy to get discouraged. But remember it is the tiny drop-drop-drop of water that can transform a rough rock into a beautiful shiny smooth stone.
Don't make a list.
Don't make a speech.
Recognize thankful things at work in your life.
and then strive to be one for others.
Just because.
In spite of.
It's not easy. But it is right.
Happy Thanksgiving.
Thankful things are things that exist just because or in spite of. They are a wonderful blessing, but because they are intangible, they are hard to see. It's one thing to be thankful for specific people, but it's quite another to be thankful for the goodness and light they bring to your own. It's one thing to be thankful for specific items or events, but it's quite another to be thankful for the impact they have had on your life.
Discovering thankful things requires looking inside oneself and recognizing positive forces and influences. It means accepting that you are so much more than a Proper Noun. You're a verb. You're in motion -- growing, changing, evolving. Once you accept that, you can sense the thankful things that surround you and recognize how they work and move in concert within your own life.
But don't be content with the discovery of thankful things. Work to be be a thankful thing. Work to do things that will bring goodness and light and love and hope to others. It can be difficult to do for others without the guarantee of thanks or recognition. It's easy to get discouraged. But remember it is the tiny drop-drop-drop of water that can transform a rough rock into a beautiful shiny smooth stone.
Don't make a list.
Don't make a speech.
Recognize thankful things at work in your life.
and then strive to be one for others.
Just because.
In spite of.
It's not easy. But it is right.
Happy Thanksgiving.
Thankful Things
For some people, Thanksgiving is the day when you stand and make a formal declaration of thankful things. I've never been one to compile a Thanksgiving day laundry list of things. Like New Years resolutions (another exercise I whole-heartedly do NOT endorse), being thankful should ongoing event -- much like breathing -- and not an activity you engage in once a year because the television or the calendar or the daily devotion tells you so.
Thankful things are things that exist just because or in spite of. They are a wonderful blessing, but because they are intangible, they are hard to see. It's one thing to be thankful for specific people, but it's quite another to be thankful for the goodness and light they bring to your own. It's one thing to be thankful for specific items or events, but it's quite another to be thankful for the impact they have had on your life.
Discovering thankful things requires looking inside oneself and recognizing positive forces and influences. It means accepting that you are so much more than a Proper Noun. You're a verb. You're in motion -- growing, changing, evolving. Once you accept that, you can sense the thankful things that surround you and recognize how they work and move in concert within your own life.
But don't be content with the discovery of thankful things. Work to be be a thankful thing. Work to do things that will bring goodness and light and love and hope to others. It can be difficult to do for others without the guarantee of thanks or recognition. It's easy to get discouraged. But remember it is the tiny drop-drop-drop of water that can transform a rough rock into a beautiful shiny smooth stone.
Don't make a list.
Don't make a speech.
Recognize thankful things at work in your life.
and then strive to be one for others.
Just because.
In spite of.
It's not easy. But it is right.
Happy Thanksgiving.
Thankful things are things that exist just because or in spite of. They are a wonderful blessing, but because they are intangible, they are hard to see. It's one thing to be thankful for specific people, but it's quite another to be thankful for the goodness and light they bring to your own. It's one thing to be thankful for specific items or events, but it's quite another to be thankful for the impact they have had on your life.
Discovering thankful things requires looking inside oneself and recognizing positive forces and influences. It means accepting that you are so much more than a Proper Noun. You're a verb. You're in motion -- growing, changing, evolving. Once you accept that, you can sense the thankful things that surround you and recognize how they work and move in concert within your own life.
But don't be content with the discovery of thankful things. Work to be be a thankful thing. Work to do things that will bring goodness and light and love and hope to others. It can be difficult to do for others without the guarantee of thanks or recognition. It's easy to get discouraged. But remember it is the tiny drop-drop-drop of water that can transform a rough rock into a beautiful shiny smooth stone.
Don't make a list.
Don't make a speech.
Recognize thankful things at work in your life.
and then strive to be one for others.
Just because.
In spite of.
It's not easy. But it is right.
Happy Thanksgiving.
45 x 365 #21: Seunghee
You were principal violinist and I was sectional violist, so the only real chance we had to talk about things other than bowings was during the commute to rehearsal. Although you spoke English fairly well, I never had much luck explaining the phrase 'Holy Cow!"
45 x 365 #21: Seunghee
You were principal violinist and I was sectional violist, so the only real chance we had to talk about things other than bowings was during the commute to rehearsal. Although you spoke English fairly well, I never had much luck explaining the phrase 'Holy Cow!"
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
45 x 365 #20: Nancy Ch.
We see you twice a year for fiber therapy. Every time we walk into your shop, you greet us geographically (My MICHIGAN friends!) and we always find awesome stuff you won't let us buy because you're hogging it for yourself. Not that I blame you.
45 x 365 #20: Nancy Ch.
We see you twice a year for fiber therapy. Every time we walk into your shop, you greet us geographically (My MICHIGAN friends!) and we always find awesome stuff you won't let us buy because you're hogging it for yourself. Not that I blame you.
Pulling a Parental Picasso
Parent. To parent. The be involved in the act of parenting. It seems so simple. Many of us are a parent, and live that role every single day. But let me tell you, it's hard. It is SO incredibly hard. Sure, there are the wonderful warm and squishy times when your child is endless blog fodder with their cute sayings and quirky antics and chocolate covered kisses. And thank God for those times, because without them, every single parent in this world would be curled up in the fetal position in some sort of asylum.
It's hard to parent, because to do it right, or well, or even just barely good enough so your kid doesn't grow up to be tonight's $1000 reward on Crimestoppers, you have to be the heavy. And if you're a single parent, there are no days off. No time for good behavior. Forget having an chance to play good cop while the other parent plays bad cop. There's only one sheriff in town, and that's you, all day, every day, world without end, Amen.
Now -- just as you're wrapping your head around the notion of being the everlasting enforcer, let me assure you that parenthood isn't just about being Corporal Punishment. No, you also get to be the enthusiastic supporter of all activities at all time. School plays, extra-curricular functions, dances, field trips, rehearsals, recitals, concerts, birthday parties, classroom events -- why, it's a veritable feast of so much to do, you'll think how boring your life must have been before all this fun began while you wonder where exactly you live because Lord knows you haven't seen your house in daylight hours since school began in September.
Parenting is a very schizophrenic existence, because there are times when you have to morph from a parental Jekyll to Hyde damn near instantaneously. Or even better (or worse?) on the rare occasion, pull a Picasso and perform both roles at the same time. Let me assure you, this is no small trick. I still find it difficult to talk out of both sides of my face simultaneously, and yet there are times when it simply must be done, because, while it's important to remain supportive and encouraging, you can never stop being the law of the land.
And then there is the undoing. God help me, this may be harder than the rest combined. If you think it's hard being a parental police state, try bringing sense to the senseless and overcoming hurts that were heaped on the unprotected. Leading by example is the name of the game, even when it seems you are a lonely example of one in an otherwise uncaring, unfeeling, selfish world. You're tilting at wind mills there, Don Quixhote. Enjoy that.
It's relentless and exhausting. Or maybe more accurately put, it's relentless and I'm exhausted. There are days when it seems there is no end in sight and no break from the madness. But still you get up, take a shower and roll the daily dice. Hopefully you'll break even. Hopefully the good will outweigh the bad. Hopefully manners will be minded, rules with be obeyed, and after spending the day working for the man, there won't be a raft of permission slips, a stream of order forms, and a mountain of middle school homework all needing to be signed and completed by the morning.
There are days when parenthood is just no fun. And yes, I know that nobody said it was going to be sunshine and lollipops. Nobody said it was going to be easy. Nobody said life would be a half-hour sitcom with problems solved and life lessons learned in 22 minutes accompanied by a laugh track and previews for next week.
Nobody said any of that.
Everybody was right.
It's hard to parent, because to do it right, or well, or even just barely good enough so your kid doesn't grow up to be tonight's $1000 reward on Crimestoppers, you have to be the heavy. And if you're a single parent, there are no days off. No time for good behavior. Forget having an chance to play good cop while the other parent plays bad cop. There's only one sheriff in town, and that's you, all day, every day, world without end, Amen.
Now -- just as you're wrapping your head around the notion of being the everlasting enforcer, let me assure you that parenthood isn't just about being Corporal Punishment. No, you also get to be the enthusiastic supporter of all activities at all time. School plays, extra-curricular functions, dances, field trips, rehearsals, recitals, concerts, birthday parties, classroom events -- why, it's a veritable feast of so much to do, you'll think how boring your life must have been before all this fun began while you wonder where exactly you live because Lord knows you haven't seen your house in daylight hours since school began in September.
Parenting is a very schizophrenic existence, because there are times when you have to morph from a parental Jekyll to Hyde damn near instantaneously. Or even better (or worse?) on the rare occasion, pull a Picasso and perform both roles at the same time. Let me assure you, this is no small trick. I still find it difficult to talk out of both sides of my face simultaneously, and yet there are times when it simply must be done, because, while it's important to remain supportive and encouraging, you can never stop being the law of the land.
And then there is the undoing. God help me, this may be harder than the rest combined. If you think it's hard being a parental police state, try bringing sense to the senseless and overcoming hurts that were heaped on the unprotected. Leading by example is the name of the game, even when it seems you are a lonely example of one in an otherwise uncaring, unfeeling, selfish world. You're tilting at wind mills there, Don Quixhote. Enjoy that.
It's relentless and exhausting. Or maybe more accurately put, it's relentless and I'm exhausted. There are days when it seems there is no end in sight and no break from the madness. But still you get up, take a shower and roll the daily dice. Hopefully you'll break even. Hopefully the good will outweigh the bad. Hopefully manners will be minded, rules with be obeyed, and after spending the day working for the man, there won't be a raft of permission slips, a stream of order forms, and a mountain of middle school homework all needing to be signed and completed by the morning.
There are days when parenthood is just no fun. And yes, I know that nobody said it was going to be sunshine and lollipops. Nobody said it was going to be easy. Nobody said life would be a half-hour sitcom with problems solved and life lessons learned in 22 minutes accompanied by a laugh track and previews for next week.
Nobody said any of that.
Everybody was right.
Pulling a Parental Picasso
Parent. To parent. The be involved in the act of parenting. It seems so simple. Many of us are a parent, and live that role every single day. But let me tell you, it's hard. It is SO incredibly hard. Sure, there are the wonderful warm and squishy times when your child is endless blog fodder with their cute sayings and quirky antics and chocolate covered kisses. And thank God for those times, because without them, every single parent in this world would be curled up in the fetal position in some sort of asylum.
It's hard to parent, because to do it right, or well, or even just barely good enough so your kid doesn't grow up to be tonight's $1000 reward on Crimestoppers, you have to be the heavy. And if you're a single parent, there are no days off. No time for good behavior. Forget having an chance to play good cop while the other parent plays bad cop. There's only one sheriff in town, and that's you, all day, every day, world without end, Amen.
Now -- just as you're wrapping your head around the notion of being the everlasting enforcer, let me assure you that parenthood isn't just about being Corporal Punishment. No, you also get to be the enthusiastic supporter of all activities at all time. School plays, extra-curricular functions, dances, field trips, rehearsals, recitals, concerts, birthday parties, classroom events -- why, it's a veritable feast of so much to do, you'll think how boring your life must have been before all this fun began while you wonder where exactly you live because Lord knows you haven't seen your house in daylight hours since school began in September.
Parenting is a very schizophrenic existence, because there are times when you have to morph from a parental Jekyll to Hyde damn near instantaneously. Or even better (or worse?) on the rare occasion, pull a Picasso and perform both roles at the same time. Let me assure you, this is no small trick. I still find it difficult to talk out of both sides of my face simultaneously, and yet there are times when it simply must be done, because, while it's important to remain supportive and encouraging, you can never stop being the law of the land.
And then there is the undoing. God help me, this may be harder than the rest combined. If you think it's hard being a parental police state, try bringing sense to the senseless and overcoming hurts that were heaped on the unprotected. Leading by example is the name of the game, even when it seems you are a lonely example of one in an otherwise uncaring, unfeeling, selfish world. You're tilting at wind mills there, Don Quixhote. Enjoy that.
It's relentless and exhausting. Or maybe more accurately put, it's relentless and I'm exhausted. There are days when it seems there is no end in sight and no break from the madness. But still you get up, take a shower and roll the daily dice. Hopefully you'll break even. Hopefully the good will outweigh the bad. Hopefully manners will be minded, rules with be obeyed, and after spending the day working for the man, there won't be a raft of permission slips, a stream of order forms, and a mountain of middle school homework all needing to be signed and completed by the morning.
There are days when parenthood is just no fun. And yes, I know that nobody said it was going to be sunshine and lollipops. Nobody said it was going to be easy. Nobody said life would be a half-hour sitcom with problems solved and life lessons learned in 22 minutes accompanied by a laugh track and previews for next week.
Nobody said any of that.
Everybody was right.
It's hard to parent, because to do it right, or well, or even just barely good enough so your kid doesn't grow up to be tonight's $1000 reward on Crimestoppers, you have to be the heavy. And if you're a single parent, there are no days off. No time for good behavior. Forget having an chance to play good cop while the other parent plays bad cop. There's only one sheriff in town, and that's you, all day, every day, world without end, Amen.
Now -- just as you're wrapping your head around the notion of being the everlasting enforcer, let me assure you that parenthood isn't just about being Corporal Punishment. No, you also get to be the enthusiastic supporter of all activities at all time. School plays, extra-curricular functions, dances, field trips, rehearsals, recitals, concerts, birthday parties, classroom events -- why, it's a veritable feast of so much to do, you'll think how boring your life must have been before all this fun began while you wonder where exactly you live because Lord knows you haven't seen your house in daylight hours since school began in September.
Parenting is a very schizophrenic existence, because there are times when you have to morph from a parental Jekyll to Hyde damn near instantaneously. Or even better (or worse?) on the rare occasion, pull a Picasso and perform both roles at the same time. Let me assure you, this is no small trick. I still find it difficult to talk out of both sides of my face simultaneously, and yet there are times when it simply must be done, because, while it's important to remain supportive and encouraging, you can never stop being the law of the land.
And then there is the undoing. God help me, this may be harder than the rest combined. If you think it's hard being a parental police state, try bringing sense to the senseless and overcoming hurts that were heaped on the unprotected. Leading by example is the name of the game, even when it seems you are a lonely example of one in an otherwise uncaring, unfeeling, selfish world. You're tilting at wind mills there, Don Quixhote. Enjoy that.
It's relentless and exhausting. Or maybe more accurately put, it's relentless and I'm exhausted. There are days when it seems there is no end in sight and no break from the madness. But still you get up, take a shower and roll the daily dice. Hopefully you'll break even. Hopefully the good will outweigh the bad. Hopefully manners will be minded, rules with be obeyed, and after spending the day working for the man, there won't be a raft of permission slips, a stream of order forms, and a mountain of middle school homework all needing to be signed and completed by the morning.
There are days when parenthood is just no fun. And yes, I know that nobody said it was going to be sunshine and lollipops. Nobody said it was going to be easy. Nobody said life would be a half-hour sitcom with problems solved and life lessons learned in 22 minutes accompanied by a laugh track and previews for next week.
Nobody said any of that.
Everybody was right.
Monday, November 19, 2007
45 x 365 #19: Jason D.
You loved music and singing more than life itself. As a student, your proclaimed case of Tourrette’s Syndrome and your self-absorbed personality always made lessons interesting. And somehow, someway, I think you’ll make it. A bit of insanity in this business goes a long way.
45 x 365 #19: Jason D.
You loved music and singing more than life itself. As a student, your proclaimed case of Tourrette’s Syndrome and your self-absorbed personality always made lessons interesting. And somehow, someway, I think you’ll make it. A bit of insanity in this business goes a long way.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
45 x 365 #18: Corliss
We did a million weddings, but the best was when you played as loud as possible because “If they want to talk, I’ll GIVE them something to talk over!” Ten years as paid soprano, when you retired, I left. We were a team that way.
45 x 365 #18: Corliss
We did a million weddings, but the best was when you played as loud as possible because “If they want to talk, I’ll GIVE them something to talk over!” Ten years as paid soprano, when you retired, I left. We were a team that way.
Unconscious Mutterings
I say ... and You Think:
1. Toasty :: Warm
2. Allegations :: Accusations
3. Herb :: Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme
4. Bacon :: I CAN'T READ!
5. Neck to Neck :: Even
6. Simon :: Game
7. Heels :: Rotten people
8. Fundamentals :: Basics
9. Middle :: Center
10. Seasonings :: Salt & Pepper
Not necessarily words relating to each other, but at least I had quick answers off the top of my head. And besides, I could never complain when IT'S BACON!!!!
1. Toasty :: Warm
2. Allegations :: Accusations
3. Herb :: Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme
4. Bacon :: I CAN'T READ!
5. Neck to Neck :: Even
6. Simon :: Game
7. Heels :: Rotten people
8. Fundamentals :: Basics
9. Middle :: Center
10. Seasonings :: Salt & Pepper
Not necessarily words relating to each other, but at least I had quick answers off the top of my head. And besides, I could never complain when IT'S BACON!!!!
Unconscious Mutterings
I say ... and You Think:
1. Toasty :: Warm
2. Allegations :: Accusations
3. Herb :: Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme
4. Bacon :: I CAN'T READ!
5. Neck to Neck :: Even
6. Simon :: Game
7. Heels :: Rotten people
8. Fundamentals :: Basics
9. Middle :: Center
10. Seasonings :: Salt & Pepper
Not necessarily words relating to each other, but at least I had quick answers off the top of my head. And besides, I could never complain when IT'S BACON!!!!
1. Toasty :: Warm
2. Allegations :: Accusations
3. Herb :: Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme
4. Bacon :: I CAN'T READ!
5. Neck to Neck :: Even
6. Simon :: Game
7. Heels :: Rotten people
8. Fundamentals :: Basics
9. Middle :: Center
10. Seasonings :: Salt & Pepper
Not necessarily words relating to each other, but at least I had quick answers off the top of my head. And besides, I could never complain when IT'S BACON!!!!
Saturday, November 17, 2007
45 x 365 #17: Mrs. Peacock
Dressed in blue from head to toe, you were the epitome of class and sass. Your feathered hat was the crowning touch of your look that dripped with bored annoyance. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll see you again, but honestly, I haven’t got a Clue.
45 x 365 #17: Mrs. Peacock
Dressed in blue from head to toe, you were the epitome of class and sass. Your feathered hat was the crowning touch of your look that dripped with bored annoyance. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll see you again, but honestly, I haven’t got a Clue.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Friday's Feast
It's a late evening but yet I just ate dinner edition of Friday's Feast. I sure hope these questions aren't too tough...
Appetizer: What was your first "real" job?
As opposed to my several "fake" jobs? Or "unreal" jobs? Actually, looking back on things, several of them seemed very "unreal" but I suppose that is a story for another day. My first "real" job I procured on my first "real" day of being 16 "real" years old. I worked in a dining room in a retirement center. It was an enormous headache trying to get 100 old people seated in the dining room (IN THEIR SPOT), placing orders, serving food, and then kicking them out and reseting so you can do it for the next group in one hour flat. So where did I work next? At the movies, where every 2.5 hours you have to get 325 people seated in the dark accompanied by their wombo double-butter corns, large orange sodas and Jr. Mints.
Soup: Where would you go if you wanted to spark your creativity?
Ocean. Mountain. Practice room. Bathroom. Someplace where there is peace and quiet, music, or a good book.
Salad: Complete this sentence: I am embarrassed when...
I am embarrassed when I can't remember someone's name. Which is All.The.Time.
Main Course: What values did your parents instill in you?
x=12, y=6
That, and you will only need the formula for slope for math class.
Dessert: Name Three Fads from Your Teenage Years?
This is hardly fair, because recognizing fads depends on recognizing what is hip and trendy in today's world. And honestly, hip and trendy and GreenTuna do not go together at all. So, trying to thinking of anything around that time eras, I might guess:
Appetizer: What was your first "real" job?
As opposed to my several "fake" jobs? Or "unreal" jobs? Actually, looking back on things, several of them seemed very "unreal" but I suppose that is a story for another day. My first "real" job I procured on my first "real" day of being 16 "real" years old. I worked in a dining room in a retirement center. It was an enormous headache trying to get 100 old people seated in the dining room (IN THEIR SPOT), placing orders, serving food, and then kicking them out and reseting so you can do it for the next group in one hour flat. So where did I work next? At the movies, where every 2.5 hours you have to get 325 people seated in the dark accompanied by their wombo double-butter corns, large orange sodas and Jr. Mints.
Soup: Where would you go if you wanted to spark your creativity?
Ocean. Mountain. Practice room. Bathroom. Someplace where there is peace and quiet, music, or a good book.
Salad: Complete this sentence: I am embarrassed when...
I am embarrassed when I can't remember someone's name. Which is All.The.Time.
Main Course: What values did your parents instill in you?
x=12, y=6
That, and you will only need the formula for slope for math class.
Dessert: Name Three Fads from Your Teenage Years?
This is hardly fair, because recognizing fads depends on recognizing what is hip and trendy in today's world. And honestly, hip and trendy and GreenTuna do not go together at all. So, trying to thinking of anything around that time eras, I might guess:
- Pet Rocks
- Bell-Bottom Pants
- Barry Manilow
Friday's Feast
It's a late evening but yet I just ate dinner edition of Friday's Feast. I sure hope these questions aren't too tough...
Appetizer: What was your first "real" job?
As opposed to my several "fake" jobs? Or "unreal" jobs? Actually, looking back on things, several of them seemed very "unreal" but I suppose that is a story for another day. My first "real" job I procured on my first "real" day of being 16 "real" years old. I worked in a dining room in a retirement center. It was an enormous headache trying to get 100 old people seated in the dining room (IN THEIR SPOT), placing orders, serving food, and then kicking them out and reseting so you can do it for the next group in one hour flat. So where did I work next? At the movies, where every 2.5 hours you have to get 325 people seated in the dark accompanied by their wombo double-butter corns, large orange sodas and Jr. Mints.
Soup: Where would you go if you wanted to spark your creativity?
Ocean. Mountain. Practice room. Bathroom. Someplace where there is peace and quiet, music, or a good book.
Salad: Complete this sentence: I am embarrassed when...
I am embarrassed when I can't remember someone's name. Which is All.The.Time.
Main Course: What values did your parents instill in you?
x=12, y=6
That, and you will only need the formula for slope for math class.
Dessert: Name Three Fads from Your Teenage Years?
This is hardly fair, because recognizing fads depends on recognizing what is hip and trendy in today's world. And honestly, hip and trendy and GreenTuna do not go together at all. So, trying to thinking of anything around that time eras, I might guess:
Appetizer: What was your first "real" job?
As opposed to my several "fake" jobs? Or "unreal" jobs? Actually, looking back on things, several of them seemed very "unreal" but I suppose that is a story for another day. My first "real" job I procured on my first "real" day of being 16 "real" years old. I worked in a dining room in a retirement center. It was an enormous headache trying to get 100 old people seated in the dining room (IN THEIR SPOT), placing orders, serving food, and then kicking them out and reseting so you can do it for the next group in one hour flat. So where did I work next? At the movies, where every 2.5 hours you have to get 325 people seated in the dark accompanied by their wombo double-butter corns, large orange sodas and Jr. Mints.
Soup: Where would you go if you wanted to spark your creativity?
Ocean. Mountain. Practice room. Bathroom. Someplace where there is peace and quiet, music, or a good book.
Salad: Complete this sentence: I am embarrassed when...
I am embarrassed when I can't remember someone's name. Which is All.The.Time.
Main Course: What values did your parents instill in you?
x=12, y=6
That, and you will only need the formula for slope for math class.
Dessert: Name Three Fads from Your Teenage Years?
This is hardly fair, because recognizing fads depends on recognizing what is hip and trendy in today's world. And honestly, hip and trendy and GreenTuna do not go together at all. So, trying to thinking of anything around that time eras, I might guess:
- Pet Rocks
- Bell-Bottom Pants
- Barry Manilow
45 x 365 #16: Leon
Ours was the war of practical jokes. I started by taping a giant cardboard “Rambo” figure to your office chair and scared you to death. You retaliated by plastering the entire building with copies of my wedding announcement. To Larry Bird of the Celtics. Yuck.
45 x 365 #16: Leon
Ours was the war of practical jokes. I started by taping a giant cardboard “Rambo” figure to your office chair and scared you to death. You retaliated by plastering the entire building with copies of my wedding announcement. To Larry Bird of the Celtics. Yuck.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
The Entry Where Everybody Hates Me
Continuing on to day four of Children's Book Week brings me to several books that I like, or at least find interesting in one way or another, but frankly, am scared to death to share. But I'm going to do it anyway, so don't act all surprised.
There are several books in this list that you'd be hard-pressed to find, especially with their original content. Today they are considered to be at the very least, insensitive, and at the very most, really, really, REALLY insensitive. And while part of me entirely understands those feelings, another part of me cannot help but feel that it's a shame, because every book has a story to tell and a place in history. And I have to say that in their time I don't believe these books were written with the intention to disparage other people and races. Much like the content in a story like Gone With the Wind, you can't tell a story of the civil war without slaves and slavery. You can't tell this story without Prissy yelling, "I don't know nothing about birthin' no babies" and without Mammy calling Emmy Slattery "po' white trash." None of it is necessarily flattering, but it was the language and the social situation of the day.
Favorite Uncle Remus Tales by Joel Chandler Harris
These were the stories of Brer' Fox, Brer' Bear, and Brer' Rabbit. Of course, Brer' Fox and Brer' Bear weren't too smart, and Brer' Rabbit was always finding ways to trick them. These were read to me as a child, and I always loved GramTuna's extra theatrical declaration "PLEASE don't throw me in the briar patch!" which, as I think of it, sounded very similar to Roger Rabbit.
Of course, The Uncle Remus Tales were later turned into the Disney movie, Song of the South back in 1946, but this film hasn't seen the light of day (commercially speaking) in several decades. And it's all the more a pity since it has some of Disney's most memorable songs, including "Zippity Doo-Dah." Interesting tidbits about the film include the fact that November 12th was the 61st anniversary of the film (did you miss it? Yeah, I did too), and according to the all things Song of the South website, there is scuttle that the film just might be released in 2008 or 2009. There is also speculation that if the film were to be released on DVD to the public, it might include some educational documentary material that would explain how and why the film was made with a sort of "look how far we've come as a nation" kind of bent to help appease those who would be upset by the film's release. I think it's a great compromise. Preserve and honor the original piece, but include explanations and education to keep it in perspective.
Little Black Sambo
by Helen Bannerman
In a somewhat cringe-worthy manner, at the bottom of the Uncle Remus page on Amazon, they list several other culturally insensitive books they think I might enjoy. Top of the list? Little Black Sambo. And I don't know whether to be embarrased or proud that Amazon and I share the same brain, but I was fully intending to include this story.
All I can say in my defense, is I never thought of Little Black Sambo as anything more than a tale of a very clever boy who managed to outwit some hungry tigers, and got a very good breakfast out of the deal at the same time. And I couldn't wait to get to the part of the story where the tigers had fancy shoes on their ears.
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
by Roald Dahl
It might seem unusual to see Charlie listed alongside Little Black Sambo and Uncle Remus. But the original 1964 version (of which, for some reason, I own two) was overhauled in 1973 to sanitize the description of the poor Oompa-Loompas. In the original book, they were "dark-skinned pygmies from the heart of Africa." The 1973 version had them as "small “hippy” people with long golden-brown hair and rosy-white skin." No longer from the heart of Africa, now they hailed (most predictably) from "Loompaland." More politically correct? Sure, I guess, unless you have long golden-brown haired and rosy-white skin. Then, maybe not so much. And then there is that whole sticky wicket of colonialism as Willy Wonka "rescues" the Oompa-Loompas from their plight. Still in all, I love the hard-bound, hard-to-find original version that featured real Oompa Loompas, and not abnormally orange ones.
There are several books in this list that you'd be hard-pressed to find, especially with their original content. Today they are considered to be at the very least, insensitive, and at the very most, really, really, REALLY insensitive. And while part of me entirely understands those feelings, another part of me cannot help but feel that it's a shame, because every book has a story to tell and a place in history. And I have to say that in their time I don't believe these books were written with the intention to disparage other people and races. Much like the content in a story like Gone With the Wind, you can't tell a story of the civil war without slaves and slavery. You can't tell this story without Prissy yelling, "I don't know nothing about birthin' no babies" and without Mammy calling Emmy Slattery "po' white trash." None of it is necessarily flattering, but it was the language and the social situation of the day.
Favorite Uncle Remus Tales by Joel Chandler Harris
These were the stories of Brer' Fox, Brer' Bear, and Brer' Rabbit. Of course, Brer' Fox and Brer' Bear weren't too smart, and Brer' Rabbit was always finding ways to trick them. These were read to me as a child, and I always loved GramTuna's extra theatrical declaration "PLEASE don't throw me in the briar patch!" which, as I think of it, sounded very similar to Roger Rabbit.
Of course, The Uncle Remus Tales were later turned into the Disney movie, Song of the South back in 1946, but this film hasn't seen the light of day (commercially speaking) in several decades. And it's all the more a pity since it has some of Disney's most memorable songs, including "Zippity Doo-Dah." Interesting tidbits about the film include the fact that November 12th was the 61st anniversary of the film (did you miss it? Yeah, I did too), and according to the all things Song of the South website, there is scuttle that the film just might be released in 2008 or 2009. There is also speculation that if the film were to be released on DVD to the public, it might include some educational documentary material that would explain how and why the film was made with a sort of "look how far we've come as a nation" kind of bent to help appease those who would be upset by the film's release. I think it's a great compromise. Preserve and honor the original piece, but include explanations and education to keep it in perspective.
Little Black Sambo
by Helen Bannerman
In a somewhat cringe-worthy manner, at the bottom of the Uncle Remus page on Amazon, they list several other culturally insensitive books they think I might enjoy. Top of the list? Little Black Sambo. And I don't know whether to be embarrased or proud that Amazon and I share the same brain, but I was fully intending to include this story.
All I can say in my defense, is I never thought of Little Black Sambo as anything more than a tale of a very clever boy who managed to outwit some hungry tigers, and got a very good breakfast out of the deal at the same time. And I couldn't wait to get to the part of the story where the tigers had fancy shoes on their ears.
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
by Roald Dahl
It might seem unusual to see Charlie listed alongside Little Black Sambo and Uncle Remus. But the original 1964 version (of which, for some reason, I own two) was overhauled in 1973 to sanitize the description of the poor Oompa-Loompas. In the original book, they were "dark-skinned pygmies from the heart of Africa." The 1973 version had them as "small “hippy” people with long golden-brown hair and rosy-white skin." No longer from the heart of Africa, now they hailed (most predictably) from "Loompaland." More politically correct? Sure, I guess, unless you have long golden-brown haired and rosy-white skin. Then, maybe not so much. And then there is that whole sticky wicket of colonialism as Willy Wonka "rescues" the Oompa-Loompas from their plight. Still in all, I love the hard-bound, hard-to-find original version that featured real Oompa Loompas, and not abnormally orange ones.
The Entry Where Everybody Hates Me
Continuing on to day four of Children's Book Week brings me to several books that I like, or at least find interesting in one way or another, but frankly, am scared to death to share. But I'm going to do it anyway, so don't act all surprised.
There are several books in this list that you'd be hard-pressed to find, especially with their original content. Today they are considered to be at the very least, insensitive, and at the very most, really, really, REALLY insensitive. And while part of me entirely understands those feelings, another part of me cannot help but feel that it's a shame, because every book has a story to tell and a place in history. And I have to say that in their time I don't believe these books were written with the intention to disparage other people and races. Much like the content in a story like Gone With the Wind, you can't tell a story of the civil war without slaves and slavery. You can't tell this story without Prissy yelling, "I don't know nothing about birthin' no babies" and without Mammy calling Emmy Slattery "po' white trash." None of it is necessarily flattering, but it was the language and the social situation of the day.
Favorite Uncle Remus Tales by Joel Chandler Harris
These were the stories of Brer' Fox, Brer' Bear, and Brer' Rabbit. Of course, Brer' Fox and Brer' Bear weren't too smart, and Brer' Rabbit was always finding ways to trick them. These were read to me as a child, and I always loved GramTuna's extra theatrical declaration "PLEASE don't throw me in the briar patch!" which, as I think of it, sounded very similar to Roger Rabbit.
Of course, The Uncle Remus Tales were later turned into the Disney movie, Song of the South back in 1946, but this film hasn't seen the light of day (commercially speaking) in several decades. And it's all the more a pity since it has some of Disney's most memorable songs, including "Zippity Doo-Dah." Interesting tidbits about the film include the fact that November 12th was the 61st anniversary of the film (did you miss it? Yeah, I did too), and according to the all things Song of the South website, there is scuttle that the film just might be released in 2008 or 2009. There is also speculation that if the film were to be released on DVD to the public, it might include some educational documentary material that would explain how and why the film was made with a sort of "look how far we've come as a nation" kind of bent to help appease those who would be upset by the film's release. I think it's a great compromise. Preserve and honor the original piece, but include explanations and education to keep it in perspective.
Little Black Sambo
by Helen Bannerman
In a somewhat cringe-worthy manner, at the bottom of the Uncle Remus page on Amazon, they list several other culturally insensitive books they think I might enjoy. Top of the list? Little Black Sambo. And I don't know whether to be embarrased or proud that Amazon and I share the same brain, but I was fully intending to include this story.
All I can say in my defense, is I never thought of Little Black Sambo as anything more than a tale of a very clever boy who managed to outwit some hungry tigers, and got a very good breakfast out of the deal at the same time. And I couldn't wait to get to the part of the story where the tigers had fancy shoes on their ears.
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
by Roald Dahl
It might seem unusual to see Charlie listed alongside Little Black Sambo and Uncle Remus. But the original 1964 version (of which, for some reason, I own two) was overhauled in 1973 to sanitize the description of the poor Oompa-Loompas. In the original book, they were "dark-skinned pygmies from the heart of Africa." The 1973 version had them as "small “hippy” people with long golden-brown hair and rosy-white skin." No longer from the heart of Africa, now they hailed (most predictably) from "Loompaland." More politically correct? Sure, I guess, unless you have long golden-brown haired and rosy-white skin. Then, maybe not so much. And then there is that whole sticky wicket of colonialism as Willy Wonka "rescues" the Oompa-Loompas from their plight. Still in all, I love the hard-bound, hard-to-find original version that featured real Oompa Loompas, and not abnormally orange ones.
There are several books in this list that you'd be hard-pressed to find, especially with their original content. Today they are considered to be at the very least, insensitive, and at the very most, really, really, REALLY insensitive. And while part of me entirely understands those feelings, another part of me cannot help but feel that it's a shame, because every book has a story to tell and a place in history. And I have to say that in their time I don't believe these books were written with the intention to disparage other people and races. Much like the content in a story like Gone With the Wind, you can't tell a story of the civil war without slaves and slavery. You can't tell this story without Prissy yelling, "I don't know nothing about birthin' no babies" and without Mammy calling Emmy Slattery "po' white trash." None of it is necessarily flattering, but it was the language and the social situation of the day.
Favorite Uncle Remus Tales by Joel Chandler Harris
These were the stories of Brer' Fox, Brer' Bear, and Brer' Rabbit. Of course, Brer' Fox and Brer' Bear weren't too smart, and Brer' Rabbit was always finding ways to trick them. These were read to me as a child, and I always loved GramTuna's extra theatrical declaration "PLEASE don't throw me in the briar patch!" which, as I think of it, sounded very similar to Roger Rabbit.
Of course, The Uncle Remus Tales were later turned into the Disney movie, Song of the South back in 1946, but this film hasn't seen the light of day (commercially speaking) in several decades. And it's all the more a pity since it has some of Disney's most memorable songs, including "Zippity Doo-Dah." Interesting tidbits about the film include the fact that November 12th was the 61st anniversary of the film (did you miss it? Yeah, I did too), and according to the all things Song of the South website, there is scuttle that the film just might be released in 2008 or 2009. There is also speculation that if the film were to be released on DVD to the public, it might include some educational documentary material that would explain how and why the film was made with a sort of "look how far we've come as a nation" kind of bent to help appease those who would be upset by the film's release. I think it's a great compromise. Preserve and honor the original piece, but include explanations and education to keep it in perspective.
Little Black Sambo
by Helen Bannerman
In a somewhat cringe-worthy manner, at the bottom of the Uncle Remus page on Amazon, they list several other culturally insensitive books they think I might enjoy. Top of the list? Little Black Sambo. And I don't know whether to be embarrased or proud that Amazon and I share the same brain, but I was fully intending to include this story.
All I can say in my defense, is I never thought of Little Black Sambo as anything more than a tale of a very clever boy who managed to outwit some hungry tigers, and got a very good breakfast out of the deal at the same time. And I couldn't wait to get to the part of the story where the tigers had fancy shoes on their ears.
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
by Roald Dahl
It might seem unusual to see Charlie listed alongside Little Black Sambo and Uncle Remus. But the original 1964 version (of which, for some reason, I own two) was overhauled in 1973 to sanitize the description of the poor Oompa-Loompas. In the original book, they were "dark-skinned pygmies from the heart of Africa." The 1973 version had them as "small “hippy” people with long golden-brown hair and rosy-white skin." No longer from the heart of Africa, now they hailed (most predictably) from "Loompaland." More politically correct? Sure, I guess, unless you have long golden-brown haired and rosy-white skin. Then, maybe not so much. And then there is that whole sticky wicket of colonialism as Willy Wonka "rescues" the Oompa-Loompas from their plight. Still in all, I love the hard-bound, hard-to-find original version that featured real Oompa Loompas, and not abnormally orange ones.
45 x 365 :15: Kirstin A.
On senior concerto night you had horrible memory problems and restarted the Mendelssohn at least twelve times before somebody ran offstage to find your music. Humiliated, you never came to class again. Not terribly sympathetic, we laughed about it and you for a long time.
45 x 365 :15: Kirstin A.
On senior concerto night you had horrible memory problems and restarted the Mendelssohn at least twelve times before somebody ran offstage to find your music. Humiliated, you never came to class again. Not terribly sympathetic, we laughed about it and you for a long time.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Animals Behaving Badly
It's day three of Children's Book Week, and it's becoming clear that I'm going to have to start doubling and tripling up on my selections because it's going to be impossible to choose just seven books. Today's selections are books from TinyTuna's era and are in stark contrast to the last two days where lovely animal stories feature little critters who are deep philosophical thinkers and nature always comes and licks the cheek of those who wait. Today's selections feature penguins in loud Hawaiian print shirts.
Tacky the Penguin
by Helen Lester
Tacky is a penguin you cannot help but adore. He's always a little off, always a little too loud and always more than a little disheveled with his rumpled shirt and mismatched bow tie. Tacky lives with his siblings: Angel, Neatly, Lovely and Perfect. They are always neat and tidy and march in time and recite perfect poetry. Tacky marches 1-2-3-4-5-4-3-6-2-2 1/2-0-1 and sings songs like, "How many feet does a fish have, I wonder?" But no wonder how bizarre Tacky is, he has a big heart and at the end of every story it is agreed that although Tacky may be an odd bird, he was a nice bird to have around. These stories celebrate the Tacky in all of us and prove there is more than one way to do just about everything, and sometimes the most unusual is the very best of all.
Frog and Toad
by Arnold Lobel
There are lots of Frog and Toad books and every single one of them is a winner. The stories are all short and sweet and pack a punch at the end. They are a kind of amphibian version of Aesop's fables, with a bit of a kick.
Frog and Toad are always struggling with problems. In this story of the cookies, they are afraid they going to eat them all up. So they put them in a box, but decide that's not enough. Then they wrap the box in paper. Then they tie the box up with string. Then they put it on the tallest shelf. Finally, afraid that that it's still not enough, they get the box from the shelf, untie it, unwrap it, take the cookies out, and throw them outside for the birds to eat. Dejected, Toad says, "but now we don't have any cookies." Frog says, "Yes, but now we have LOTS of self control." Toad gloomily agrees, and then decides to go home and bake a cake.
Other classic Frog and Toad stories include a tale of not wanting to get out of bed because the looming load of chores ahead makes it to unbearable; learning that it's ok to want to be alone sometime, and my favorite story: upon learning that it never works to yell "NOW GROW!" at seeds, Toad worries that he scared the seeds, so to make amends, he plays them music and reads them stories. There is always something to learn in a 5 minute Frog and Toad story.
Minnie and Moo
by Denys Cazet
Minnie and Moo, two well-meaning but slightly daffy cows always get into trouble when Minnie asks, "Moo, have you been thinking again?" and Moo admits, "It was only a little think."
Although Minnie and Moo are fully aware that they are cows, hysterical situations always occur when they try to act human. In one story, they are horrified to discover they just ate a hamburger and they start apologizing because they're sure it was one of their friends. In another story, they decide to start the tractor. Knowing they saw the farmer do it several times, Moo explains that you start the tractor by yelling at it and calling it names ("You worthless hunk of junk! You rusty bucket of bolts!") and then giving it a swift kick. Amazingly, or maybe not so much, it works.
Click, Clack, Moo: Cows that Type
by Doreen Cronin
I would be hard pressed to choose a favorite part of this story. The simple notion of typing cows is funny enough as it is. Add to it their list of demands (Dear Farmer Brown: The barn is quite cold. We need electric blankets), and top with a devious duck who starts off as a neutral party and then decides to get his own piece of the action.
Click-Clack-Moo
Click-Clack-Moo
Clickety-Clack-Moo.
Click, clack, quack.
Click, clack, quack.
Clickety, clack, quack.
Tacky the Penguin
by Helen Lester
Tacky is a penguin you cannot help but adore. He's always a little off, always a little too loud and always more than a little disheveled with his rumpled shirt and mismatched bow tie. Tacky lives with his siblings: Angel, Neatly, Lovely and Perfect. They are always neat and tidy and march in time and recite perfect poetry. Tacky marches 1-2-3-4-5-4-3-6-2-2 1/2-0-1 and sings songs like, "How many feet does a fish have, I wonder?" But no wonder how bizarre Tacky is, he has a big heart and at the end of every story it is agreed that although Tacky may be an odd bird, he was a nice bird to have around. These stories celebrate the Tacky in all of us and prove there is more than one way to do just about everything, and sometimes the most unusual is the very best of all.
Frog and Toad
by Arnold Lobel
There are lots of Frog and Toad books and every single one of them is a winner. The stories are all short and sweet and pack a punch at the end. They are a kind of amphibian version of Aesop's fables, with a bit of a kick.
Frog and Toad are always struggling with problems. In this story of the cookies, they are afraid they going to eat them all up. So they put them in a box, but decide that's not enough. Then they wrap the box in paper. Then they tie the box up with string. Then they put it on the tallest shelf. Finally, afraid that that it's still not enough, they get the box from the shelf, untie it, unwrap it, take the cookies out, and throw them outside for the birds to eat. Dejected, Toad says, "but now we don't have any cookies." Frog says, "Yes, but now we have LOTS of self control." Toad gloomily agrees, and then decides to go home and bake a cake.
Other classic Frog and Toad stories include a tale of not wanting to get out of bed because the looming load of chores ahead makes it to unbearable; learning that it's ok to want to be alone sometime, and my favorite story: upon learning that it never works to yell "NOW GROW!" at seeds, Toad worries that he scared the seeds, so to make amends, he plays them music and reads them stories. There is always something to learn in a 5 minute Frog and Toad story.
Minnie and Moo
by Denys Cazet
Minnie and Moo, two well-meaning but slightly daffy cows always get into trouble when Minnie asks, "Moo, have you been thinking again?" and Moo admits, "It was only a little think."
Although Minnie and Moo are fully aware that they are cows, hysterical situations always occur when they try to act human. In one story, they are horrified to discover they just ate a hamburger and they start apologizing because they're sure it was one of their friends. In another story, they decide to start the tractor. Knowing they saw the farmer do it several times, Moo explains that you start the tractor by yelling at it and calling it names ("You worthless hunk of junk! You rusty bucket of bolts!") and then giving it a swift kick. Amazingly, or maybe not so much, it works.
Click, Clack, Moo: Cows that Type
by Doreen Cronin
I would be hard pressed to choose a favorite part of this story. The simple notion of typing cows is funny enough as it is. Add to it their list of demands (Dear Farmer Brown: The barn is quite cold. We need electric blankets), and top with a devious duck who starts off as a neutral party and then decides to get his own piece of the action.
Click-Clack-Moo
Click-Clack-Moo
Clickety-Clack-Moo.
Click, clack, quack.
Click, clack, quack.
Clickety, clack, quack.
Animals Behaving Badly
It's day three of Children's Book Week, and it's becoming clear that I'm going to have to start doubling and tripling up on my selections because it's going to be impossible to choose just seven books. Today's selections are books from TinyTuna's era and are in stark contrast to the last two days where lovely animal stories feature little critters who are deep philosophical thinkers and nature always comes and licks the cheek of those who wait. Today's selections feature penguins in loud Hawaiian print shirts.
Tacky the Penguin
by Helen Lester
Tacky is a penguin you cannot help but adore. He's always a little off, always a little too loud and always more than a little disheveled with his rumpled shirt and mismatched bow tie. Tacky lives with his siblings: Angel, Neatly, Lovely and Perfect. They are always neat and tidy and march in time and recite perfect poetry. Tacky marches 1-2-3-4-5-4-3-6-2-2 1/2-0-1 and sings songs like, "How many feet does a fish have, I wonder?" But no wonder how bizarre Tacky is, he has a big heart and at the end of every story it is agreed that although Tacky may be an odd bird, he was a nice bird to have around. These stories celebrate the Tacky in all of us and prove there is more than one way to do just about everything, and sometimes the most unusual is the very best of all.
Frog and Toad
by Arnold Lobel
There are lots of Frog and Toad books and every single one of them is a winner. The stories are all short and sweet and pack a punch at the end. They are a kind of amphibian version of Aesop's fables, with a bit of a kick.
Frog and Toad are always struggling with problems. In this story of the cookies, they are afraid they going to eat them all up. So they put them in a box, but decide that's not enough. Then they wrap the box in paper. Then they tie the box up with string. Then they put it on the tallest shelf. Finally, afraid that that it's still not enough, they get the box from the shelf, untie it, unwrap it, take the cookies out, and throw them outside for the birds to eat. Dejected, Toad says, "but now we don't have any cookies." Frog says, "Yes, but now we have LOTS of self control." Toad gloomily agrees, and then decides to go home and bake a cake.
Other classic Frog and Toad stories include a tale of not wanting to get out of bed because the looming load of chores ahead makes it to unbearable; learning that it's ok to want to be alone sometime, and my favorite story: upon learning that it never works to yell "NOW GROW!" at seeds, Toad worries that he scared the seeds, so to make amends, he plays them music and reads them stories. There is always something to learn in a 5 minute Frog and Toad story.
Minnie and Moo
by Denys Cazet
Minnie and Moo, two well-meaning but slightly daffy cows always get into trouble when Minnie asks, "Moo, have you been thinking again?" and Moo admits, "It was only a little think."
Although Minnie and Moo are fully aware that they are cows, hysterical situations always occur when they try to act human. In one story, they are horrified to discover they just ate a hamburger and they start apologizing because they're sure it was one of their friends. In another story, they decide to start the tractor. Knowing they saw the farmer do it several times, Moo explains that you start the tractor by yelling at it and calling it names ("You worthless hunk of junk! You rusty bucket of bolts!") and then giving it a swift kick. Amazingly, or maybe not so much, it works.
Click, Clack, Moo: Cows that Type
by Doreen Cronin
I would be hard pressed to choose a favorite part of this story. The simple notion of typing cows is funny enough as it is. Add to it their list of demands (Dear Farmer Brown: The barn is quite cold. We need electric blankets), and top with a devious duck who starts off as a neutral party and then decides to get his own piece of the action.
Click-Clack-Moo
Click-Clack-Moo
Clickety-Clack-Moo.
Click, clack, quack.
Click, clack, quack.
Clickety, clack, quack.
Tacky the Penguin
by Helen Lester
Tacky is a penguin you cannot help but adore. He's always a little off, always a little too loud and always more than a little disheveled with his rumpled shirt and mismatched bow tie. Tacky lives with his siblings: Angel, Neatly, Lovely and Perfect. They are always neat and tidy and march in time and recite perfect poetry. Tacky marches 1-2-3-4-5-4-3-6-2-2 1/2-0-1 and sings songs like, "How many feet does a fish have, I wonder?" But no wonder how bizarre Tacky is, he has a big heart and at the end of every story it is agreed that although Tacky may be an odd bird, he was a nice bird to have around. These stories celebrate the Tacky in all of us and prove there is more than one way to do just about everything, and sometimes the most unusual is the very best of all.
Frog and Toad
by Arnold Lobel
There are lots of Frog and Toad books and every single one of them is a winner. The stories are all short and sweet and pack a punch at the end. They are a kind of amphibian version of Aesop's fables, with a bit of a kick.
Frog and Toad are always struggling with problems. In this story of the cookies, they are afraid they going to eat them all up. So they put them in a box, but decide that's not enough. Then they wrap the box in paper. Then they tie the box up with string. Then they put it on the tallest shelf. Finally, afraid that that it's still not enough, they get the box from the shelf, untie it, unwrap it, take the cookies out, and throw them outside for the birds to eat. Dejected, Toad says, "but now we don't have any cookies." Frog says, "Yes, but now we have LOTS of self control." Toad gloomily agrees, and then decides to go home and bake a cake.
Other classic Frog and Toad stories include a tale of not wanting to get out of bed because the looming load of chores ahead makes it to unbearable; learning that it's ok to want to be alone sometime, and my favorite story: upon learning that it never works to yell "NOW GROW!" at seeds, Toad worries that he scared the seeds, so to make amends, he plays them music and reads them stories. There is always something to learn in a 5 minute Frog and Toad story.
Minnie and Moo
by Denys Cazet
Minnie and Moo, two well-meaning but slightly daffy cows always get into trouble when Minnie asks, "Moo, have you been thinking again?" and Moo admits, "It was only a little think."
Although Minnie and Moo are fully aware that they are cows, hysterical situations always occur when they try to act human. In one story, they are horrified to discover they just ate a hamburger and they start apologizing because they're sure it was one of their friends. In another story, they decide to start the tractor. Knowing they saw the farmer do it several times, Moo explains that you start the tractor by yelling at it and calling it names ("You worthless hunk of junk! You rusty bucket of bolts!") and then giving it a swift kick. Amazingly, or maybe not so much, it works.
Click, Clack, Moo: Cows that Type
by Doreen Cronin
I would be hard pressed to choose a favorite part of this story. The simple notion of typing cows is funny enough as it is. Add to it their list of demands (Dear Farmer Brown: The barn is quite cold. We need electric blankets), and top with a devious duck who starts off as a neutral party and then decides to get his own piece of the action.
Click-Clack-Moo
Click-Clack-Moo
Clickety-Clack-Moo.
Click, clack, quack.
Click, clack, quack.
Clickety, clack, quack.
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