Tuesday, May 31, 2005

Pass the Catch-Up

A long weekend, decent weather and lots of outside work meant little posting for me. Even my subconscious didn't get a chance to mutter in a timely manner. It's obvious from my answers that reading the Bible (hey, at least it's the NEW Testament, right?), going to Hollywood or getting some sleep was of primary importance.

I say ... And you think:
  1. Crowd:: Push
  2. Hamburger:: Lunch
  3. Choker:: Necklace
  4. Lights:: Out
  5. Tinsel:: Town
  6. Testament:: New
  7. Best part of the day:: Bed Time
  8. Election:: Scandal
  9. Clarinet:: Reed
  10. Dead Sea:: Scrolls


And then I discovered a daily Haiku meme, ensuring that I will never get any work done. If you want to 'ku along, drop it in the comments here, or visit the fortune cookie over on the side.

Daily Haiku -- Weekend Wilderness
Take this weekend to write haiku that focus on the natural world.

Wild Weeding Weekend
Success measured by carnage
Green Thumb Godzilla


Daily Haiku -- Tuesday Twofer
Tuesdays are all about twin haikus.
Instead of merely three lines, you get six


Lovely Long Weekend
Some spend their days in the sun
Good books to savor

While strangers honor
those they never knew -- small flags
bring highest respect

Pass the Catch-Up

A long weekend, decent weather and lots of outside work meant little posting for me. Even my subconscious didn't get a chance to mutter in a timely manner. It's obvious from my answers that reading the Bible (hey, at least it's the NEW Testament, right?), going to Hollywood or getting some sleep was of primary importance.

I say ... And you think:
  1. Crowd:: Push
  2. Hamburger:: Lunch
  3. Choker:: Necklace
  4. Lights:: Out
  5. Tinsel:: Town
  6. Testament:: New
  7. Best part of the day:: Bed Time
  8. Election:: Scandal
  9. Clarinet:: Reed
  10. Dead Sea:: Scrolls


And then I discovered a daily Haiku meme, ensuring that I will never get any work done. If you want to 'ku along, drop it in the comments here, or visit the fortune cookie over on the side.

Daily Haiku -- Weekend Wilderness
Take this weekend to write haiku that focus on the natural world.

Wild Weeding Weekend
Success measured by carnage
Green Thumb Godzilla


Daily Haiku -- Tuesday Twofer
Tuesdays are all about twin haikus.
Instead of merely three lines, you get six


Lovely Long Weekend
Some spend their days in the sun
Good books to savor

While strangers honor
those they never knew -- small flags
bring highest respect

Friday, May 27, 2005

Friday's Feast

It's still Friday, which means there is still time for Friday's Feast!

Appetizer: What job would you definitely NOT want to have?
Lightbulb replacer for the Mackinac Bridge.

Soup: Oprah calls and wants you to be on her show.
What would that day's show be about?

Today on Oprah -- Forget Dr. Phil! There's a new fish in town, and GreenTuna dishes all without a new book, southern accent or cranky granny catch phrases. Don't Get Real. Get Tuna.

Salad: Name Three Vegetables You Eat on a Regular Basis
If I have to name only three vegetables, I'd have a much easier time listing three I never eat (okra, turnips and eggplant). If we are talking vegetables I eat on a regular basis, you'd have to go with vegetable categories:
All things green. (peas, broccoli, asparagus)
All things bean. (lima, green, kidney, black, pinto, garbonzo)
All things everything else. (cucumbers, peppers, lettuce, romaine, carrots, cauliflower, corn, beets, celery...)

Main Course: If you were commissioned rename your hometown, what would you call it?
All the witty Mitten names are already taken: Paradise, Hell, Christmas, Vulcan, Norway, Ishpeming, Ypsilanti... For lack of anything else, now that the students are gone, I guess I'd call it Peaceful.

Dessert: If you had a personal assistant, what kind of tasks would you have them do?
Think of a better name for my hometown, because that answer really stunk.
Keep my calendar.
Fetch me fizzy brown diet drinks.
Fold my socks.

Friday's Feast

It's still Friday, which means there is still time for Friday's Feast!

Appetizer: What job would you definitely NOT want to have?
Lightbulb replacer for the Mackinac Bridge.

Soup: Oprah calls and wants you to be on her show.
What would that day's show be about?

Today on Oprah -- Forget Dr. Phil! There's a new fish in town, and GreenTuna dishes all without a new book, southern accent or cranky granny catch phrases. Don't Get Real. Get Tuna.

Salad: Name Three Vegetables You Eat on a Regular Basis
If I have to name only three vegetables, I'd have a much easier time listing three I never eat (okra, turnips and eggplant). If we are talking vegetables I eat on a regular basis, you'd have to go with vegetable categories:
All things green. (peas, broccoli, asparagus)
All things bean. (lima, green, kidney, black, pinto, garbonzo)
All things everything else. (cucumbers, peppers, lettuce, romaine, carrots, cauliflower, corn, beets, celery...)

Main Course: If you were commissioned rename your hometown, what would you call it?
All the witty Mitten names are already taken: Paradise, Hell, Christmas, Vulcan, Norway, Ishpeming, Ypsilanti... For lack of anything else, now that the students are gone, I guess I'd call it Peaceful.

Dessert: If you had a personal assistant, what kind of tasks would you have them do?
Think of a better name for my hometown, because that answer really stunk.
Keep my calendar.
Fetch me fizzy brown diet drinks.
Fold my socks.

Trivial Pursuits

(a camera pans slowly over shelves and shelves of books)....

Voice-Over: These racks and shelves contain a lot of books. Tens of Thousands. Hundreds of thousands. Perhaps millions. How do you feel about them?
GreenTuna:Hate.
Voice-Over: Do they mean something to you?
GreenTuna: They mean somebody has some work to do.
Voice-Over: Are they your friends?
GreenTuna: Do I look THAT desperate?
Voice-Over: Have you a real love of books and learning?
GreenTuna: As opposed to a fake love?
Voice-Over: You do? That's good!
GreenTuna: No, wait! I didn't say...

Voice-Over: Now. Do you like people?
GreenTuna: No.
Voice-Over: And do people like you?
GreenTuna: Is it a job requirement?
Voice-Over: Do you like all kinds of people?
GreenTuna: Young kids? Old kids? Kids who climb on rocks?
Voice-Over: The young as well as the old? People in all stations of life?
GreenTuna: Gas stations? Police stations? No, not really.....
Voice-Over: You do? That's wonderful! Because when you have these two important qualifications: love for books and love for people, you may well consider the vocation of a librarian. A vocation that gives full enjoyment to the librarian, and radiates it to the public.
GreenTuna: That's me. A full-enjoyment radiator.

This is an excerpt from a lovely 1947 public domain film series called: Your Life Work. This particular film, called The Librarian, documents, in all of its stereotypical glory, the noble calling of "Librarian."


In this film you see kindly Granny Librarians,

frumpy and annoyed Librarians

and younger -- yet still fashionably challenged -- librarians. Tragically, this sweatshop worker Librarian doesn't understand the difference between slimming vertical stripes, and prison-wear.

One of the best parts of the film was discovering library patrons were just as stupid in 1947 as they are today.
Young, Stupid Male Library Patron: I'm looking for a book on television. But I forgot...
Wise, Understanding Librarian: Do you know the author?
YSMLP: No, I don't. And I don't know the title either. But it's a blue book. And it kind of gives the whole story...you know...
WUL: I think we can help you.

Voice-Over: This boy's problem was not an unusual one.
GreenTuna: Yeah. He's an IDIOT.
Voice-Over: He did not know the author's name, nor did he remember the title of the book. BUT -- he knew the subject: "Television."
GreenTuna: Three cheers and a tiger for him. This was 1947. How many books on television can there be?
Voice-Over: Because the cataloger did a good job, the book was easily located,
GreenTuna: *snort* Right. In the special room where they keep all the blue books.
Voice-Over:...and the boy was further encouraged to use the library facilities


I'm sure he was. He didn't know squat and was still presented with the book as if it were the crown jewels. If he showed up today, he'd have to browse through more than 8,000 books on television. And sorry to say, we don't separate them by color. Maybe next time he'll actually write down some pertinent information. Then again, I'll bet you any money that he doesn't have a pencil, either. Or paper.

Let me tell you how it is. Library work is part detective, part computer hacker, part Name-That-Tune expert (Music side), part Antiques Roadshow appraiser, (Art side), part HazMat employee (the removal of a plastic bag containing beer and underpants hidden in the folio stacks comes to mind) and part social worker, to name just a few.

But more often than not, the job is a blast. Be nice (treats help), and the librarian will go the extra mile for you. Case in point: A few weeks back a doctoral student came in looking for organ music he was requested to play at a wedding reception. Not the regulars. Not Bach, Mendelssohn or Wagner. Not Pachelbel or Purcell.

He needed Circus Music.

Specifically, he needed "you know -- that circus song they always play." And he sang it for me. And of course, I knew exactly what he was talking about, but had no idea what it was called.

I asked Google. I asked Amazon. But it's hard to know what to ask for when all you can do is doot-doot-doot the tune.

But because the question was so awesome (Circus music for weddings. Love IT!) and I didn't know the answer, I was determined not to give up. So, I did what any answer-obsessed, wedding music hating, computer-savvy music library type person would do. I consulted the ultimate reference source.

I emailed a clown.

As I am writing this email, trying to explain a musical tune in words...

Hi --

I have a Circus question from the Music Library. What is the title of the circus piece that is what you would think of as the "stereotypic" circus calliope piece. It's very chromatic, and the tune descends.

Doot-doot-doo-dee-doo-dee-doot-doot-doo-dee

I hate trying to explain this....but maybe you know what I mean.


I am also having to explain clowns and blogs and people on the Internet and why a library person and semi-professional Soprano soloist would know anything about clowns and blogs and...well, lets just say this goes WAY above and beyond the "blue book" reference work. My friend, the organ-playing, circus-music requesting doctoral student spent the next 20 minutes telling this story to everybody that walked through the door, and from my office I keep hearing, "...and she emailed a CLOWN! A BLOGGING CLOWN!"

Eventually, the question was answered -- alas, not by the blogging clown (who hadn't yet received my email -- but by a passing bassoonist (insert joke here). The answer, for all interested parties and future Jeopardy contestants is:

March of the Gladiators, op. 68 by Fucik.

Of course, the organ playing circus music requesting doctoral student was happy to have the answer to his question, and I was happy to have helped him track down the answer. But my biggest reward came from none other than expert herself -- the blogging clown -- who wrote me back and told me not only had I described the song perfectly, I also had all the words right.

Forget about liking people and public radiating. The fun of working in a library is knowing the answer, and if you don't know the answer, you know where to look or whom to ask.

Even if it's a passing bassonist or a blogging clown.

Trivial Pursuits

(a camera pans slowly over shelves and shelves of books)....

Voice-Over: These racks and shelves contain a lot of books. Tens of Thousands. Hundreds of thousands. Perhaps millions. How do you feel about them?
GreenTuna:Hate.
Voice-Over: Do they mean something to you?
GreenTuna: They mean somebody has some work to do.
Voice-Over: Are they your friends?
GreenTuna: Do I look THAT desperate?
Voice-Over: Have you a real love of books and learning?
GreenTuna: As opposed to a fake love?
Voice-Over: You do? That's good!
GreenTuna: No, wait! I didn't say...

Voice-Over: Now. Do you like people?
GreenTuna: No.
Voice-Over: And do people like you?
GreenTuna: Is it a job requirement?
Voice-Over: Do you like all kinds of people?
GreenTuna: Young kids? Old kids? Kids who climb on rocks?
Voice-Over: The young as well as the old? People in all stations of life?
GreenTuna: Gas stations? Police stations? No, not really.....
Voice-Over: You do? That's wonderful! Because when you have these two important qualifications: love for books and love for people, you may well consider the vocation of a librarian. A vocation that gives full enjoyment to the librarian, and radiates it to the public.
GreenTuna: That's me. A full-enjoyment radiator.

This is an excerpt from a lovely 1947 public domain film series called: Your Life Work. This particular film, called The Librarian, documents, in all of its stereotypical glory, the noble calling of "Librarian."


In this film you see kindly Granny Librarians,

frumpy and annoyed Librarians

and younger -- yet still fashionably challenged -- librarians. Tragically, this sweatshop worker Librarian doesn't understand the difference between slimming vertical stripes, and prison-wear.

One of the best parts of the film was discovering library patrons were just as stupid in 1947 as they are today.
Young, Stupid Male Library Patron: I'm looking for a book on television. But I forgot...
Wise, Understanding Librarian: Do you know the author?
YSMLP: No, I don't. And I don't know the title either. But it's a blue book. And it kind of gives the whole story...you know...
WUL: I think we can help you.

Voice-Over: This boy's problem was not an unusual one.
GreenTuna: Yeah. He's an IDIOT.
Voice-Over: He did not know the author's name, nor did he remember the title of the book. BUT -- he knew the subject: "Television."
GreenTuna: Three cheers and a tiger for him. This was 1947. How many books on television can there be?
Voice-Over: Because the cataloger did a good job, the book was easily located,
GreenTuna: *snort* Right. In the special room where they keep all the blue books.
Voice-Over:...and the boy was further encouraged to use the library facilities


I'm sure he was. He didn't know squat and was still presented with the book as if it were the crown jewels. If he showed up today, he'd have to browse through more than 8,000 books on television. And sorry to say, we don't separate them by color. Maybe next time he'll actually write down some pertinent information. Then again, I'll bet you any money that he doesn't have a pencil, either. Or paper.

Let me tell you how it is. Library work is part detective, part computer hacker, part Name-That-Tune expert (Music side), part Antiques Roadshow appraiser, (Art side), part HazMat employee (the removal of a plastic bag containing beer and underpants hidden in the folio stacks comes to mind) and part social worker, to name just a few.

But more often than not, the job is a blast. Be nice (treats help), and the librarian will go the extra mile for you. Case in point: A few weeks back a doctoral student came in looking for organ music he was requested to play at a wedding reception. Not the regulars. Not Bach, Mendelssohn or Wagner. Not Pachelbel or Purcell.

He needed Circus Music.

Specifically, he needed "you know -- that circus song they always play." And he sang it for me. And of course, I knew exactly what he was talking about, but had no idea what it was called.

I asked Google. I asked Amazon. But it's hard to know what to ask for when all you can do is doot-doot-doot the tune.

But because the question was so awesome (Circus music for weddings. Love IT!) and I didn't know the answer, I was determined not to give up. So, I did what any answer-obsessed, wedding music hating, computer-savvy music library type person would do. I consulted the ultimate reference source.

I emailed a clown.

As I am writing this email, trying to explain a musical tune in words...

Hi --

I have a Circus question from the Music Library. What is the title of the circus piece that is what you would think of as the "stereotypic" circus calliope piece. It's very chromatic, and the tune descends.

Doot-doot-doo-dee-doo-dee-doot-doot-doo-dee

I hate trying to explain this....but maybe you know what I mean.


I am also having to explain clowns and blogs and people on the Internet and why a library person and semi-professional Soprano soloist would know anything about clowns and blogs and...well, lets just say this goes WAY above and beyond the "blue book" reference work. My friend, the organ-playing, circus-music requesting doctoral student spent the next 20 minutes telling this story to everybody that walked through the door, and from my office I keep hearing, "...and she emailed a CLOWN! A BLOGGING CLOWN!"

Eventually, the question was answered -- alas, not by the blogging clown (who hadn't yet received my email -- but by a passing bassoonist (insert joke here). The answer, for all interested parties and future Jeopardy contestants is:

March of the Gladiators, op. 68 by Fucik.

Of course, the organ playing circus music requesting doctoral student was happy to have the answer to his question, and I was happy to have helped him track down the answer. But my biggest reward came from none other than expert herself -- the blogging clown -- who wrote me back and told me not only had I described the song perfectly, I also had all the words right.

Forget about liking people and public radiating. The fun of working in a library is knowing the answer, and if you don't know the answer, you know where to look or whom to ask.

Even if it's a passing bassonist or a blogging clown.

Thursday, May 26, 2005

Team Player

MASCOT: (noun) a person, animal, or object adopted by a group as a symbolic figure especially to bring them good luck.
(Merriam-Webster Online)


Mascots are fun. MSU has Sparty, The Lugnuts (Minor League Baseball) has Big Lug and Ratchet, and that lame school down the road has a giant weasel. Fitting. One of my favorite mascots was The Moose, who represented the minor league hockey team, The Rochester Americans. I never did understand the link between a moose and ice skates, but the Moose took a lot of grief from the fans, and we loved him for it.

Long, long ago, in an ad campaign far-far away, mascots were everywhere, representing everything from lard to plywood to roacher killers. Nowadays, mascots mean serious business. Just ask my boyfriend, and he'll tell you it's Mascot Mania -- from camps, to classes, to roadside cemeteries, it's obvious that not just any old shmoe can shill for the corporate bigwigs.

More training?

"More training."

But nowadays, being a mascot doesn't necessarily mean being the embodiment of good. Take Polyp-Man, for example. He embodies, well...POLYPS. This isn't exactly resume building material.



But my new favorite is a local. It has been declared that in the mitten, this week is known as Emerald Ash Borer Awareness Week -- complete with a sunglass wearing, smirking mascot and her evil green dump truck of doom.
(Poor thing. It's not exactly the Batmobile, now is it?)



Emerald Ash Borers.
Don't let this happen to you.

Team Player

MASCOT: (noun) a person, animal, or object adopted by a group as a symbolic figure especially to bring them good luck.
(Merriam-Webster Online)


Mascots are fun. MSU has Sparty, The Lugnuts (Minor League Baseball) has Big Lug and Ratchet, and that lame school down the road has a giant weasel. Fitting. One of my favorite mascots was The Moose, who represented the minor league hockey team, The Rochester Americans. I never did understand the link between a moose and ice skates, but the Moose took a lot of grief from the fans, and we loved him for it.

Long, long ago, in an ad campaign far-far away, mascots were everywhere, representing everything from lard to plywood to roacher killers. Nowadays, mascots mean serious business. Just ask my boyfriend, and he'll tell you it's Mascot Mania -- from camps, to classes, to roadside cemeteries, it's obvious that not just any old shmoe can shill for the corporate bigwigs.

More training?

"More training."

But nowadays, being a mascot doesn't necessarily mean being the embodiment of good. Take Polyp-Man, for example. He embodies, well...POLYPS. This isn't exactly resume building material.



But my new favorite is a local. It has been declared that in the mitten, this week is known as Emerald Ash Borer Awareness Week -- complete with a sunglass wearing, smirking mascot and her evil green dump truck of doom.
(Poor thing. It's not exactly the Batmobile, now is it?)



Emerald Ash Borers.
Don't let this happen to you.

Wednesday, May 25, 2005

Brand Loyalty

Look and see what Williams Sonoma wants me to buy TODAY!!!
A Monogrammed Steak Brand!



If the backyard grill is Dad's territory, give him a gift he'll use year after year. Our Monogrammed Steak Brand, which can be personalized with his initials, lets him customize steaks and other grill specialties. A customer favorite, the wrought-iron brand has become a Father's Day tradition at Williams-Sonoma.

I don't understand why I seem to have such gaping holes in my education. I know I grew up in suburbia and all, but tell me, since when is monogramming ones meal a tradition? Is there an extra verse in Fiddler on the Roof that I don't know? If my steak isn't mooing or playing with the deer and the antelope, I'm not really clear on why I have to put my initials on it like it was underwear being sent to summer camp.

(Not that I ever did that either, but you understand my point)

Maybe I don't get it because it's a manly man thing and only manly men understand the importance of personalizing dinner. Maybe it's the opportunity to play poor-man's cowboy, because let's face it ... branding an inert 16-oz sirloin is a lot easier than branding an angry angus.

I'll have to file this email right next to the Sandcastle Bundt Cake Pan.
Thanks, but no.

Brand Loyalty

Look and see what Williams Sonoma wants me to buy TODAY!!!
A Monogrammed Steak Brand!



If the backyard grill is Dad's territory, give him a gift he'll use year after year. Our Monogrammed Steak Brand, which can be personalized with his initials, lets him customize steaks and other grill specialties. A customer favorite, the wrought-iron brand has become a Father's Day tradition at Williams-Sonoma.

I don't understand why I seem to have such gaping holes in my education. I know I grew up in suburbia and all, but tell me, since when is monogramming ones meal a tradition? Is there an extra verse in Fiddler on the Roof that I don't know? If my steak isn't mooing or playing with the deer and the antelope, I'm not really clear on why I have to put my initials on it like it was underwear being sent to summer camp.

(Not that I ever did that either, but you understand my point)

Maybe I don't get it because it's a manly man thing and only manly men understand the importance of personalizing dinner. Maybe it's the opportunity to play poor-man's cowboy, because let's face it ... branding an inert 16-oz sirloin is a lot easier than branding an angry angus.

I'll have to file this email right next to the Sandcastle Bundt Cake Pan.
Thanks, but no.

A REAL American Idol

You probably don't recognize the name Thurl Ravenscroft. But you'd know him if you heard him. Ravenscroft provided many of the voices we all grew up with, including the voice of Tony The Tiger ("They're GrrrrrrEAT!") and the wonderful -- yet amazingly uncredited -- deep dark chocolate voice that sang the bluesy, "You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch."

Thurl Ravenscroft passed away at the age of 91

If you ask me, the three words that best describes this are, and I quote:

"Stink"
"Stank"
"Stunk"

A REAL American Idol

You probably don't recognize the name Thurl Ravenscroft. But you'd know him if you heard him. Ravenscroft provided many of the voices we all grew up with, including the voice of Tony The Tiger ("They're GrrrrrrEAT!") and the wonderful -- yet amazingly uncredited -- deep dark chocolate voice that sang the bluesy, "You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch."

Thurl Ravenscroft passed away at the age of 91

If you ask me, the three words that best describes this are, and I quote:

"Stink"
"Stank"
"Stunk"

Tuesday, May 24, 2005

Rules of the Game

As a parent, I get challenged about rules all the time. Bedtimes, dinner menus, crossing the street, riding in the front seat of the car, eating candy, chewing gum, wearing shorts in winter -- it doesn't matter -- if there is a rule, there will be an attempt to change it, break it, or go around it. But that's OK, it comes with the territory. I'm more than happy to sit down and explain in mom-logic the reason behind each and every perceived infringement upon the inalienable rights of TinyTuna.

The problem with rules is the instant they are established, they are examined for flaws and loopholes. So, when I say "Bedtime is 9pm" and I find TinyTuna reading in her room at 10pm, has she broken the rule? She was in her bed, but not asleep -- which was the intention of the rule to begin with.

Maybe rules would be easier to follow if the logic preceded the law. In other words, instead of the rule "Bedtime is 9pm" which is immediately followed by rapid-fire negotiation (Please, 9:30? No. 9:15? No. Can I just stay up until the first commercial? No. Pleeeeeze? NO), the rule should be "Bedtime is determined by how many hours of sleep you need to be healthy, and have a rested body and brain. This means you need to be in bed with your light out (aha!) at 9pm."

We are a society of rule makers and rule breakers. Now that the bulk of Reality TV (excuse me, unscripted television) is over, fans and foes alike are banging the drums loudly as they compare and complain about how the participants chose to participate. Was Ian (Survivor Pulau) overflowing with stupidity or integrity as he traded a million-dollar chance for the respect and friendship of his competitors? Did Team Romber (Amazing Race 7) have an unfair advantage as people around the world recognized them and assisted them in the race? And when it comes to choosing a winner, do you go with the person who performed consistently well from week to week (Tana - The Apprentice and Kahlen - America's Next to Model), or do you go with the person who blew away the competition during the "final exam" (Kendra and Naima)?

Everybody has an opinion. Oh boy, does everybody have an opinion.

Of course, there is no one right answer. As long as rules are not broken, how these rules are interpreted is a matter of personal choice and gameplay. Instead of complaining about how somebody "played the game" (or worse, "didn't play the game") I find it to be infinitely more interesting to observe how different people interpret rules in different ways, and watch how it plays out in the end. Are they perceived as a good or bad person? Did it help or hurt their position? What is the shakeout when all is said and done?

Last night as I was saying goodnight to TinyTuna, I mentioned to Gram that I had just read that the Senate had taken the so-called "nuclear option" off the table. TinyTuna wanted to know what I was talking about. I sat for a minute, trying to distill months and months of political wrangling and interpretation of the rules into a piece of information that would make sense. Finally I said, "You know what the word compromise means, right?" She nodded and said, "when people who don't agree each give up something so they can agree." "Well, that's what they decided to do tonight. They decided to compromise. They decided it was more important to agree than to fight." TinyTuna rolled over to go to sleep and said, "That's a good thing." "It sure is," I said.

Whether it's TV, Politics or Bedtime, everybody plays the game. But the rules are so narrow, and the exceptions, so wide. If we took the time to stop banging the drums of discontent and examine the logic behind the law, maybe we'd have a clearer vision of what's really important. And then maybe -- hopefully -- understanding and compromise wouldn't be so difficult afterall.

Rules of the Game

As a parent, I get challenged about rules all the time. Bedtimes, dinner menus, crossing the street, riding in the front seat of the car, eating candy, chewing gum, wearing shorts in winter -- it doesn't matter -- if there is a rule, there will be an attempt to change it, break it, or go around it. But that's OK, it comes with the territory. I'm more than happy to sit down and explain in mom-logic the reason behind each and every perceived infringement upon the inalienable rights of TinyTuna.

The problem with rules is the instant they are established, they are examined for flaws and loopholes. So, when I say "Bedtime is 9pm" and I find TinyTuna reading in her room at 10pm, has she broken the rule? She was in her bed, but not asleep -- which was the intention of the rule to begin with.

Maybe rules would be easier to follow if the logic preceded the law. In other words, instead of the rule "Bedtime is 9pm" which is immediately followed by rapid-fire negotiation (Please, 9:30? No. 9:15? No. Can I just stay up until the first commercial? No. Pleeeeeze? NO), the rule should be "Bedtime is determined by how many hours of sleep you need to be healthy, and have a rested body and brain. This means you need to be in bed with your light out (aha!) at 9pm."

We are a society of rule makers and rule breakers. Now that the bulk of Reality TV (excuse me, unscripted television) is over, fans and foes alike are banging the drums loudly as they compare and complain about how the participants chose to participate. Was Ian (Survivor Pulau) overflowing with stupidity or integrity as he traded a million-dollar chance for the respect and friendship of his competitors? Did Team Romber (Amazing Race 7) have an unfair advantage as people around the world recognized them and assisted them in the race? And when it comes to choosing a winner, do you go with the person who performed consistently well from week to week (Tana - The Apprentice and Kahlen - America's Next to Model), or do you go with the person who blew away the competition during the "final exam" (Kendra and Naima)?

Everybody has an opinion. Oh boy, does everybody have an opinion.

Of course, there is no one right answer. As long as rules are not broken, how these rules are interpreted is a matter of personal choice and gameplay. Instead of complaining about how somebody "played the game" (or worse, "didn't play the game") I find it to be infinitely more interesting to observe how different people interpret rules in different ways, and watch how it plays out in the end. Are they perceived as a good or bad person? Did it help or hurt their position? What is the shakeout when all is said and done?

Last night as I was saying goodnight to TinyTuna, I mentioned to Gram that I had just read that the Senate had taken the so-called "nuclear option" off the table. TinyTuna wanted to know what I was talking about. I sat for a minute, trying to distill months and months of political wrangling and interpretation of the rules into a piece of information that would make sense. Finally I said, "You know what the word compromise means, right?" She nodded and said, "when people who don't agree each give up something so they can agree." "Well, that's what they decided to do tonight. They decided to compromise. They decided it was more important to agree than to fight." TinyTuna rolled over to go to sleep and said, "That's a good thing." "It sure is," I said.

Whether it's TV, Politics or Bedtime, everybody plays the game. But the rules are so narrow, and the exceptions, so wide. If we took the time to stop banging the drums of discontent and examine the logic behind the law, maybe we'd have a clearer vision of what's really important. And then maybe -- hopefully -- understanding and compromise wouldn't be so difficult afterall.

Sunday, May 22, 2005

Blame it on the Pants

Today I wore pants to church,
and it was all downhill from there.

I can't tell you why I am not a church pants-wearer. I'm just not. There is something stuck in my personal fashion sense of right and wrong that says, "Thou shalt not wear pants to church." In my brain, I'm fairly certain this logic is a close neighbor to, "Remember, tennis shoes do not belong in the Lord's Sanctuary," and, "Wiggly-toe sandals do not appropriate footwear make when performing with the symphony."

These are my personal rules.

But today, I broke my rules and I wore Capris to church. My first rationalization was knowing that under a church robe, nobody could tell if I was wearing a skirt or not. My second rationalization was whereas my Capris were clean and ready to wear, finding a skirt or a dress in a similar state would be a problem, considering the current condition of my bedroom. But the rationalization that broke the camel's back was that it was going to be a long day, and now that I'm 43 (more on that later), I can start breaking the rules.

So break the rules I did. My choir robe never betrayed my secret, and it was wonderful to be free of panty hose and heels. Such freedom. Such happiness.

Today I wore pants to church,
and after church I was faced with a dilemma.

In the right corner, wearing red God-fearing, rule obeying trunks was the annual church choir banquet. It is the pot-luckiest event imaginable, complete with quivering Jell-O salads, meatballs adrift in a ketchupy sea, and generic noodle casseroles -- the fanciest served with crunchies on top.

In the left corner, wearing God-flaunting, rule breaking PANTS was brunch with the crew, including a very special visit from a very special guest. It is the usual Sunday Grill-Dog affair, complete with dogs, burgers, French fries and breakfast served all day long.

Now, I was resigned to attending the choir banquet. TinyTuna would be receiving her certificate of thanks and this year marks the transition (one year early) from the younger children's choir to the high school choir. It was a big deal and it was her day, so I was resigned to give up the next couple hours in her honor.

But then, out of the blue, TinyTuna said, "I don't want to go to the banquet. I want to go to brunch instead."

I looked at her once. Twice.

If I was wearing a dress, there would have been no discussion. If I was wearing panty hose and high heels, I would have lectured her and then marched her into the room. But I was wearing pants, and suddenly there were no rules.

I said, "OK." And off we went.

The mom in me knows we should have gone to the banquet, because it was the appropriate thing to do. But when you wear pants to church, and when very special guests come to town, and when there isn't as much time to visit and catch up as you would like, you bend the rules to spend time with those you miss.

Today I wore pants to church,
and I think -- just this once -- it was OK.

Blame it on the Pants

Today I wore pants to church,
and it was all downhill from there.

I can't tell you why I am not a church pants-wearer. I'm just not. There is something stuck in my personal fashion sense of right and wrong that says, "Thou shalt not wear pants to church." In my brain, I'm fairly certain this logic is a close neighbor to, "Remember, tennis shoes do not belong in the Lord's Sanctuary," and, "Wiggly-toe sandals do not appropriate footwear make when performing with the symphony."

These are my personal rules.

But today, I broke my rules and I wore Capris to church. My first rationalization was knowing that under a church robe, nobody could tell if I was wearing a skirt or not. My second rationalization was whereas my Capris were clean and ready to wear, finding a skirt or a dress in a similar state would be a problem, considering the current condition of my bedroom. But the rationalization that broke the camel's back was that it was going to be a long day, and now that I'm 43 (more on that later), I can start breaking the rules.

So break the rules I did. My choir robe never betrayed my secret, and it was wonderful to be free of panty hose and heels. Such freedom. Such happiness.

Today I wore pants to church,
and after church I was faced with a dilemma.

In the right corner, wearing red God-fearing, rule obeying trunks was the annual church choir banquet. It is the pot-luckiest event imaginable, complete with quivering Jell-O salads, meatballs adrift in a ketchupy sea, and generic noodle casseroles -- the fanciest served with crunchies on top.

In the left corner, wearing God-flaunting, rule breaking PANTS was brunch with the crew, including a very special visit from a very special guest. It is the usual Sunday Grill-Dog affair, complete with dogs, burgers, French fries and breakfast served all day long.

Now, I was resigned to attending the choir banquet. TinyTuna would be receiving her certificate of thanks and this year marks the transition (one year early) from the younger children's choir to the high school choir. It was a big deal and it was her day, so I was resigned to give up the next couple hours in her honor.

But then, out of the blue, TinyTuna said, "I don't want to go to the banquet. I want to go to brunch instead."

I looked at her once. Twice.

If I was wearing a dress, there would have been no discussion. If I was wearing panty hose and high heels, I would have lectured her and then marched her into the room. But I was wearing pants, and suddenly there were no rules.

I said, "OK." And off we went.

The mom in me knows we should have gone to the banquet, because it was the appropriate thing to do. But when you wear pants to church, and when very special guests come to town, and when there isn't as much time to visit and catch up as you would like, you bend the rules to spend time with those you miss.

Today I wore pants to church,
and I think -- just this once -- it was OK.

Unconscious Mutterings

I say ... And you think

  1. Heimlich:: Maneuver


  2. Gesture:: Sign


  3. Party:: Birthday


  4. Cuddle:: Priscilla


  5. Room with a view:: Long British movie


  6. Sebastian:: Cabbot


  7. Ooooh:: Ahhhh


  8. Sigh:: Sad


  9. Two fish, three fish:: You fish, me fish


  10. Cake or death:: Eddie Izzard


Many of these are not surprising, however, after doing a bit of checking, I discovered A Room with a View clocks in at a brief 117 minutes, making it a short(ish) British movie by today's standards. Ahh, the stereotypes of the mind. Sebastian Cabbot brings on all sorts of nostalgia, as he was the REAL Mr. French from Family Affair, as opposed to the fake Mr. French that took his place later in the series. Two fish, three fish really surprised me, because it's not One fish, two fish. So, I did what I could, and made it rhyme anyway. I love channeling Dr. Seuss. As for cake or death, all I can say (aside from I love Eddie Izzard!!) is, "Cake Please" -- even though I'd much rather have pie. Blueberry, please.

Oh, and Priscilla (for those not in the know) is TinyTuna's ginormous stuffed bear that she got for Christmas a couple years back. It's a big name for a big bear. Priscilla rocks.

What's in your subconscious? Mutter along HERE.


Edited to add: I'm always careful never to read anybody else's mutterings until I've done mine, because if I do, I'll not be able to think of anything more original. However, after skimming through the first 15 or so, I'm a wee bit embarassed that she who eats, drinks and breathes music all day every day, couldn't manage to come up with BACH to go with SEBASTIAN -- like nearly everybody else did.

doh.

Unconscious Mutterings

I say ... And you think

  1. Heimlich:: Maneuver


  2. Gesture:: Sign


  3. Party:: Birthday


  4. Cuddle:: Priscilla


  5. Room with a view:: Long British movie


  6. Sebastian:: Cabbot


  7. Ooooh:: Ahhhh


  8. Sigh:: Sad


  9. Two fish, three fish:: You fish, me fish


  10. Cake or death:: Eddie Izzard


Many of these are not surprising, however, after doing a bit of checking, I discovered A Room with a View clocks in at a brief 117 minutes, making it a short(ish) British movie by today's standards. Ahh, the stereotypes of the mind. Sebastian Cabbot brings on all sorts of nostalgia, as he was the REAL Mr. French from Family Affair, as opposed to the fake Mr. French that took his place later in the series. Two fish, three fish really surprised me, because it's not One fish, two fish. So, I did what I could, and made it rhyme anyway. I love channeling Dr. Seuss. As for cake or death, all I can say (aside from I love Eddie Izzard!!) is, "Cake Please" -- even though I'd much rather have pie. Blueberry, please.

Oh, and Priscilla (for those not in the know) is TinyTuna's ginormous stuffed bear that she got for Christmas a couple years back. It's a big name for a big bear. Priscilla rocks.

What's in your subconscious? Mutter along HERE.


Edited to add: I'm always careful never to read anybody else's mutterings until I've done mine, because if I do, I'll not be able to think of anything more original. However, after skimming through the first 15 or so, I'm a wee bit embarassed that she who eats, drinks and breathes music all day every day, couldn't manage to come up with BACH to go with SEBASTIAN -- like nearly everybody else did.

doh.

Friday, May 20, 2005

Speaking of Cake

Today Williams-Sonoma wants me to buy:



A Sandcastle Bundt Cake.
Create instant fun at summer parties when you present a cake shaped like a sandcastle. With our Sandcastle Bundt® Cake Pan, you can bake your own detailed beach castle, and even have it sit in its own "sand" of raw sugar.
No offense or anything, but who has time for this? Was society as a whole somehow lacking because they didn't have the tools necessary to bake a Sandcastle Cake? And in the interest of fairness, I want a Volcano Blueberry Pie pan, because in a head-to-head battle, a Volcano Blueberry Pie victory would be...you know...a piece of cake.

Speaking of Cake

Today Williams-Sonoma wants me to buy:



A Sandcastle Bundt Cake.
Create instant fun at summer parties when you present a cake shaped like a sandcastle. With our Sandcastle Bundt® Cake Pan, you can bake your own detailed beach castle, and even have it sit in its own "sand" of raw sugar.
No offense or anything, but who has time for this? Was society as a whole somehow lacking because they didn't have the tools necessary to bake a Sandcastle Cake? And in the interest of fairness, I want a Volcano Blueberry Pie pan, because in a head-to-head battle, a Volcano Blueberry Pie victory would be...you know...a piece of cake.

Friday Feast

Happy First Birthday Friday Feast! May you have many, many more...


Appetizer: Approximately how many hours per day do you spend watching television?
That depends entirely on your definition of approximately and watching. If I'm feeling guilty about the number of hours, then my skills of approximating equal those of an 8-year old who has been given permission to eat "a couple" of cookies. As for watching, I would like to rationalize submit that often the television is on as necessary background noise. I'm not watching so much as listening (or even not so much listening) as I do other things.
Answer: Approximately one hour. And it's only PBS. (ha!)


Soup: What colors decorate your kitchen?
White and dirty dishes.


Salad: Name 2 brand names you buy on a regular basis, and what do you like about them?
1. Heinz Ketchup. They have smartass labels on the ketchup bottle.
2. Tampax Tampons. You never know when, in the midst of your idyllic date, you will be called upon to repair a leaky rowboat. Part Boy Scout (be prepared), part Hans Brinker (plug that hole) -- ALL woman. (Want to watch? Right click and select "save link as...")


Main Course: What is your biggest fear?
Answer: The List.
This is the scariest thing I know: An in-law type relative spent his entire life working hard, and after retirement he spent his days improving his home and working on the dreaded "To-Do" list. He finally finished all the tasks he had on his To-Do list. He joked with one of his sons that he would have a lot more time to relax, fish, and spend time with his family. He died four days later. Moral of the story: NEVER FINISH THE LIST.


Dessert: If you could wake up tomorrow and find yourself in another location, where would you want to be?
If I'm finding myself ANYWHERE, I'd better be in front of a mirror, because otherwise I'm either schizophrenic or dead.
Answer: Nothing could be finer than to be in the Outer Banks, North Carolina in the mo-or-or-ning!

Bonus Birthday Question: What's your favorite flavor of birthday cake?
Blueberry pie.

Friday Feast

Happy First Birthday Friday Feast! May you have many, many more...


Appetizer: Approximately how many hours per day do you spend watching television?
That depends entirely on your definition of approximately and watching. If I'm feeling guilty about the number of hours, then my skills of approximating equal those of an 8-year old who has been given permission to eat "a couple" of cookies. As for watching, I would like to rationalize submit that often the television is on as necessary background noise. I'm not watching so much as listening (or even not so much listening) as I do other things.
Answer: Approximately one hour. And it's only PBS. (ha!)


Soup: What colors decorate your kitchen?
White and dirty dishes.


Salad: Name 2 brand names you buy on a regular basis, and what do you like about them?
1. Heinz Ketchup. They have smartass labels on the ketchup bottle.
2. Tampax Tampons. You never know when, in the midst of your idyllic date, you will be called upon to repair a leaky rowboat. Part Boy Scout (be prepared), part Hans Brinker (plug that hole) -- ALL woman. (Want to watch? Right click and select "save link as...")


Main Course: What is your biggest fear?
Answer: The List.
This is the scariest thing I know: An in-law type relative spent his entire life working hard, and after retirement he spent his days improving his home and working on the dreaded "To-Do" list. He finally finished all the tasks he had on his To-Do list. He joked with one of his sons that he would have a lot more time to relax, fish, and spend time with his family. He died four days later. Moral of the story: NEVER FINISH THE LIST.


Dessert: If you could wake up tomorrow and find yourself in another location, where would you want to be?
If I'm finding myself ANYWHERE, I'd better be in front of a mirror, because otherwise I'm either schizophrenic or dead.
Answer: Nothing could be finer than to be in the Outer Banks, North Carolina in the mo-or-or-ning!

Bonus Birthday Question: What's your favorite flavor of birthday cake?
Blueberry pie.

Wednesday, May 18, 2005

Teach Your Parents Well

It's concert season again.

Late spring marks lots of endings, and if you saw my calendar, there is at least one concert, recital or final something or other between now and June 13th -- The Most Holy and Righteous Opening Day of the Tuna Clan's badly needed vacation so help me God.

This past Sunday night GramTuna and I joined an overflowing crowd of parents, family and friends, as the Children's Choir (fresh from their Carnegie Hall triumph) sang their final concert. I was happy to sit inside and listen, relieved that I escaped both my household chores and the cold, dreary weather (at least for a little while).

It was quite an evening of contrasts. While the choir sang with a musical savvy and emotional maturity that belied their age, the parents fidgeted, squirmed and rattled their programs. While the children focused all their attention on the conductor, parents walked in and out during the performance, some quietly, others less so. While the performers were amazingly polished, the parents aimed their cameras and snap-snap-snapped away, despite printed notices that cameras were not allowed.

And I'm not saying that I was any better. Although I know fully well how to sit still, be quiet and not rattle programs or wrappers during a concert, at times I only listened with half an ear, spending the rest of my time either wishing hate on inconsiderate people, or running through mental checklists of major events pending vs. major events completed.

After the concert was over, the parents chatted amongst themselves, comparing schedules, asking about children and offering polite congratulations. The children had a different take. This concert meant everything to them. Some hugged because they wouldn't be together again until next August. One boy cried profound tears of sadness, because he knew his voice was changing, meaning his journey in this particular choir had come to an end.

Later that evening I finally took the time to look at the program. I noticed a translation for the last piece of the concert (my favorite), that was sung in Hebrew:

"The World is sustained by three things: By truth. By justice. By peace."

Such a simple sentiment. Such a profound statement. The kids understood this. They cherished it and savored it in a way the parents either would not or could not.

I think I should have listened sooner.

Teach Your Parents Well

It's concert season again.

Late spring marks lots of endings, and if you saw my calendar, there is at least one concert, recital or final something or other between now and June 13th -- The Most Holy and Righteous Opening Day of the Tuna Clan's badly needed vacation so help me God.

This past Sunday night GramTuna and I joined an overflowing crowd of parents, family and friends, as the Children's Choir (fresh from their Carnegie Hall triumph) sang their final concert. I was happy to sit inside and listen, relieved that I escaped both my household chores and the cold, dreary weather (at least for a little while).

It was quite an evening of contrasts. While the choir sang with a musical savvy and emotional maturity that belied their age, the parents fidgeted, squirmed and rattled their programs. While the children focused all their attention on the conductor, parents walked in and out during the performance, some quietly, others less so. While the performers were amazingly polished, the parents aimed their cameras and snap-snap-snapped away, despite printed notices that cameras were not allowed.

And I'm not saying that I was any better. Although I know fully well how to sit still, be quiet and not rattle programs or wrappers during a concert, at times I only listened with half an ear, spending the rest of my time either wishing hate on inconsiderate people, or running through mental checklists of major events pending vs. major events completed.

After the concert was over, the parents chatted amongst themselves, comparing schedules, asking about children and offering polite congratulations. The children had a different take. This concert meant everything to them. Some hugged because they wouldn't be together again until next August. One boy cried profound tears of sadness, because he knew his voice was changing, meaning his journey in this particular choir had come to an end.

Later that evening I finally took the time to look at the program. I noticed a translation for the last piece of the concert (my favorite), that was sung in Hebrew:

"The World is sustained by three things: By truth. By justice. By peace."

Such a simple sentiment. Such a profound statement. The kids understood this. They cherished it and savored it in a way the parents either would not or could not.

I think I should have listened sooner.

Riddle Me This



Frank Gorshin, AKA The Riddler
1934-2005

*sigh*

Riddle Me This



Frank Gorshin, AKA The Riddler
1934-2005

*sigh*

Monday, May 16, 2005

MeMeMeee(me)

What's In A Name?

rRed E again





U







Monday morning diversion lifted from Raspberry Jubileee.

What do you want to Spell with Flickr?

MeMeMeee(me)

What's In A Name?

rRed E again





U







Monday morning diversion lifted from Raspberry Jubileee.

What do you want to Spell with Flickr?

Sunday, May 15, 2005

Unconscious Mutterings

I say ... And you think

  1. Grandma:: Gram

  2. Pet:: Fabio

  3. Desolate:: Lonely

  4. Backspace:: Correct

  5. Common ground:: Music

  6. Storm:: Thunder

  7. Dark:: and stormy night

  8. Water bottle:: Thirsty

  9. Training:: Wheels

  10. Dot coms:: Bust

Poor feeble unconscious...there is nothing exciting here. Common Ground is the name of a local summer music festival. Fabio the First is still our pet, and "Dark and stormy night" reminded me of the comic strip Peanuts, which used to be funny, but then it went bust. Just like Dot coms. Or something.

Unconscious Mutterings can be found HERE.

Unconscious Mutterings

I say ... And you think

  1. Grandma:: Gram

  2. Pet:: Fabio

  3. Desolate:: Lonely

  4. Backspace:: Correct

  5. Common ground:: Music

  6. Storm:: Thunder

  7. Dark:: and stormy night

  8. Water bottle:: Thirsty

  9. Training:: Wheels

  10. Dot coms:: Bust

Poor feeble unconscious...there is nothing exciting here. Common Ground is the name of a local summer music festival. Fabio the First is still our pet, and "Dark and stormy night" reminded me of the comic strip Peanuts, which used to be funny, but then it went bust. Just like Dot coms. Or something.

Unconscious Mutterings can be found HERE.

Saturday, May 14, 2005

I Dunno

For your consideration:



The Bloglines Plumber.

This guy shows up online whenever Bloglines is down for the count. And whereas I don't begrudge any website the time to upgrade their system, this particular spokes-professional doesn't inspire a lot of confidence, now does he? The least he could do is have a mouse, or a plumber's snake, or a printer cable or something...

I Dunno

For your consideration:



The Bloglines Plumber.

This guy shows up online whenever Bloglines is down for the count. And whereas I don't begrudge any website the time to upgrade their system, this particular spokes-professional doesn't inspire a lot of confidence, now does he? The least he could do is have a mouse, or a plumber's snake, or a printer cable or something...

Supersize Me

Today I did the unimaginable:
  • I cleaned my bathroom (badly needed)
  • I bought myself clothes (badly needed)
  • I bought myself shoes (not quite so badly needed)
  • I bought myself a new purse (badly rationalized) which might actually qualify as "cute" though I would hardly be a good judge.
But it's time for a reality check, people.

It's high time that the clothing industry took the plunge and sold women's clothes accord to size. Actual size. Actual size as in inches size.

Yes, on the outset, it would suck greatly. There would be untold "tag shock" as women had to face the Fats of Life. This drastic change in the garment industry would have to be handled delicately. Most likely it would require a Priest or therapist administering free Kleenex, chocolate and/or alcohol.

But you know what? I'd get over it. The bad news of the inches would be rewarded by all the hours saved not having to Indiana Jones every pair of pants trying to decode the ambiguous "Size 12" which, more often than not, is anything BUT a Size 12.

And these rules go for shoes too. Today I bought two pairs of shoes. One was a 9 1/2 and one was an 11-wide. 11-Wide! How did THAT happen?? Did my feet swell that much as I turned the corner from cute Capezios to Ronald McDonald footwear?

It's time for change. Forget Social Security and The Nuclear Option. We need to focus on issues of real importance. I'm going to put on my brand new shoes and kick some butt.

Supersize Me

Today I did the unimaginable:
  • I cleaned my bathroom (badly needed)
  • I bought myself clothes (badly needed)
  • I bought myself shoes (not quite so badly needed)
  • I bought myself a new purse (badly rationalized) which might actually qualify as "cute" though I would hardly be a good judge.
But it's time for a reality check, people.

It's high time that the clothing industry took the plunge and sold women's clothes accord to size. Actual size. Actual size as in inches size.

Yes, on the outset, it would suck greatly. There would be untold "tag shock" as women had to face the Fats of Life. This drastic change in the garment industry would have to be handled delicately. Most likely it would require a Priest or therapist administering free Kleenex, chocolate and/or alcohol.

But you know what? I'd get over it. The bad news of the inches would be rewarded by all the hours saved not having to Indiana Jones every pair of pants trying to decode the ambiguous "Size 12" which, more often than not, is anything BUT a Size 12.

And these rules go for shoes too. Today I bought two pairs of shoes. One was a 9 1/2 and one was an 11-wide. 11-Wide! How did THAT happen?? Did my feet swell that much as I turned the corner from cute Capezios to Ronald McDonald footwear?

It's time for change. Forget Social Security and The Nuclear Option. We need to focus on issues of real importance. I'm going to put on my brand new shoes and kick some butt.

Friday, May 13, 2005

Friday Feast

shhhhhhhh!! Don't tell anyone, but I'm doing Friday's Feast before Friday......

Appetizer: Whose Intelligence do you find most intimidating?
Nothing beats the intelligence of TinyTuna. Partially wise beyond her years, partially contradictory and inconceivable (I do not think that word means what you think it means). I don't know that I'd call it intimidating, but I am in absolute awe that she manages to speak with equal parts innocence, conviction and bullshit.

Soup: Name something you've done that surprised yourself
Just admitted to the entire world that my child speaks with equal parts innocence, conviction and bullshit.

Salad: Name three people whom you've only met "online" but consider good friends.
When I was little, I used to watch Romper Room all the time. At the end of the show the Romper Room lady would look into her hand mirror and say, "I see Janie and Susan and Bobby and Lucy...." and she NEVER SAID MY NAME. I didn't understand. Couldn't she see me? I watched her dumb show all the time. I would even yell my name at the TV in hopes that she would say my name. Sometimes I yelled so loud, I thought someone might call the cops. Anyway. I'm not naming names on the grounds that I refuse to be a mean old Romper Room Lady. So, the answer (if I've never met you before) is: two other people...and...YOU!

Main Course: Where is the dirtiest place you've ever been?
That would have to be either
1. The "back room" of the video store with my little brother reading video titles out loud and laughing so hard we were crying, or...
2. My bathroom.

Dessert: What is the best example of "perfection" that you can think of?
A sunny day with a light breeze. 82 degrees with low humidity. Lunch at Bubbas. Ferry Ride to Ocracoke. Spying dolphins from the ferry and avoiding seagull-bombs from the sky. Dinner at Howard's Pub. Ghost walk at dark. Starlit ferry ride back home. Just another typical day on the Outer Banks.

Friday Feast

shhhhhhhh!! Don't tell anyone, but I'm doing Friday's Feast before Friday......

Appetizer: Whose Intelligence do you find most intimidating?
Nothing beats the intelligence of TinyTuna. Partially wise beyond her years, partially contradictory and inconceivable (I do not think that word means what you think it means). I don't know that I'd call it intimidating, but I am in absolute awe that she manages to speak with equal parts innocence, conviction and bullshit.

Soup: Name something you've done that surprised yourself
Just admitted to the entire world that my child speaks with equal parts innocence, conviction and bullshit.

Salad: Name three people whom you've only met "online" but consider good friends.
When I was little, I used to watch Romper Room all the time. At the end of the show the Romper Room lady would look into her hand mirror and say, "I see Janie and Susan and Bobby and Lucy...." and she NEVER SAID MY NAME. I didn't understand. Couldn't she see me? I watched her dumb show all the time. I would even yell my name at the TV in hopes that she would say my name. Sometimes I yelled so loud, I thought someone might call the cops. Anyway. I'm not naming names on the grounds that I refuse to be a mean old Romper Room Lady. So, the answer (if I've never met you before) is: two other people...and...YOU!

Main Course: Where is the dirtiest place you've ever been?
That would have to be either
1. The "back room" of the video store with my little brother reading video titles out loud and laughing so hard we were crying, or...
2. My bathroom.

Dessert: What is the best example of "perfection" that you can think of?
A sunny day with a light breeze. 82 degrees with low humidity. Lunch at Bubbas. Ferry Ride to Ocracoke. Spying dolphins from the ferry and avoiding seagull-bombs from the sky. Dinner at Howard's Pub. Ghost walk at dark. Starlit ferry ride back home. Just another typical day on the Outer Banks.

Thursday, May 12, 2005

Lord Have Mercy

First Holy Ghost -- what's next? Jeezy Creezy?

Holy Ghost 'too spooky'

Education bosses delayed plans to introduce new guidelines for religious education teachers which include warnings against using terms such as Holy Ghost - deemed too "trivial and spooky" for children.

Under the guidelines, schools will also be advised to take school trips to churches only when they are full - as the sight of the empty buildings may make pupils believe Christianity is irrelevant.

Most major religions feature in the list of dos and don'ts drawn up by education chiefs in Norfolk to prevent students being confused or alienated by religious terms.


And I have to say, I'm just not really following the logic. Take work for example. Just because I'm in a coma doesn't mean I think my job is irrelevzzzzzzzzzzzz...

Lord Have Mercy

First Holy Ghost -- what's next? Jeezy Creezy?

Holy Ghost 'too spooky'

Education bosses delayed plans to introduce new guidelines for religious education teachers which include warnings against using terms such as Holy Ghost - deemed too "trivial and spooky" for children.

Under the guidelines, schools will also be advised to take school trips to churches only when they are full - as the sight of the empty buildings may make pupils believe Christianity is irrelevant.

Most major religions feature in the list of dos and don'ts drawn up by education chiefs in Norfolk to prevent students being confused or alienated by religious terms.


And I have to say, I'm just not really following the logic. Take work for example. Just because I'm in a coma doesn't mean I think my job is irrelevzzzzzzzzzzzz...

Wednesday, May 11, 2005

Store Wars

You must check out Store Wars
Starring Chewbroccoli, Cuke Skywalker, Obi-Wan Cannoli and Ham Solo.

Store Wars

You must check out Store Wars
Starring Chewbroccoli, Cuke Skywalker, Obi-Wan Cannoli and Ham Solo.

Sunshine and Lollipops

With the Amazing win of the Amazingly Nice People from Amazing Race 7
Uchenna and Joyce



I declare today to be skittles and beer...
Sunshine and lollipops...Babies and bunnies.



They're only 17 days old.
All together now: Awwwwwwww!

Sunshine and Lollipops

With the Amazing win of the Amazingly Nice People from Amazing Race 7
Uchenna and Joyce



I declare today to be skittles and beer...
Sunshine and lollipops...Babies and bunnies.



They're only 17 days old.
All together now: Awwwwwwww!

Tuesday, May 10, 2005

Unconscious Mutterings

I forgot to Mutter on Mutters Day.
(ba-DUMP-bump)


I say...And You Think
  1. Android:: R2D2

  2. Revenge:: Cold

  3. Knight:: Round Table

  4. Stranded:: At the Drive In

  5. Weakness:: Foible

  6. Greed:: Money

  7. Walter:: Mitty

  8. Dense:: Stupid

  9. Sheep:: Cuddly

  10. Propane:: Gas


Well...I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that nearly everything I think of (#3-4) as a song-cue. I've never read The Secret Life of Walter Mitty (#7), though I can't remember if that was by choice or design. In my defense, I've never cuddled a sheep (#9), and yes, I actually thought the word foible -- and then had to look it up online to make sure I was thinking of the right word. Who knew it was the upper, weaker portion of a blade? (Fencers, I suppose, but I'm epee-less)

As for #2...All I am going to say is that one of you out there somewhere should be VERY AFRAID.

CAPS LOCK
LEANED OVER
and BOLD

Unconscious Mutterings can be found HERE.

Unconscious Mutterings

I forgot to Mutter on Mutters Day.
(ba-DUMP-bump)


I say...And You Think
  1. Android:: R2D2

  2. Revenge:: Cold

  3. Knight:: Round Table

  4. Stranded:: At the Drive In

  5. Weakness:: Foible

  6. Greed:: Money

  7. Walter:: Mitty

  8. Dense:: Stupid

  9. Sheep:: Cuddly

  10. Propane:: Gas


Well...I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that nearly everything I think of (#3-4) as a song-cue. I've never read The Secret Life of Walter Mitty (#7), though I can't remember if that was by choice or design. In my defense, I've never cuddled a sheep (#9), and yes, I actually thought the word foible -- and then had to look it up online to make sure I was thinking of the right word. Who knew it was the upper, weaker portion of a blade? (Fencers, I suppose, but I'm epee-less)

As for #2...All I am going to say is that one of you out there somewhere should be VERY AFRAID.

CAPS LOCK
LEANED OVER
and BOLD

Unconscious Mutterings can be found HERE.