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.

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.

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.

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*

MeMeMeee(me)

What's In A Name?

Monday morning diversion lifted from Raspberry Jubileee.

What do you want to Spell with Flickr?

MeMeMeee(me)

What's In A Name?

Monday morning diversion lifted from Raspberry Jubileee.

What do you want to Spell with Flickr?

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.

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 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.

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...

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!

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.

Reality Roundup

Gather round cowpokes, because it's time for Reality Roundup. Lots of shows are riding into the sunset this week. Who will win? Who will lose? Who will care?

Amazing Race - Ends TONIGHT
It's been a good run for Amazing Race 7. Controversy, rule changes, rehashed reality stars, truck crashes, and more than one close race to the mat have made this a fun season. Of the final three teams (Romber, Kelly & Ron and Uchenna & Joyce), there is no clear favorite to win -- all are strong teams. I throw my fan favorite vote to Uchenna and Joyce. Which means they'll probably lose.

Survivor - 2 Eps Left - Ends Sunday, May 15th
Oh-Way-Oh! It's been a GREAT survivor season, complete with players being caught off-guard, which isn't easy to do when you consider this is the 10th go-round of the show. The last five standing are Caryn, Jenn, Katie, Ian and Tom. Of course I throw my fan favorite to Tom, who possesses that rare combination of strength, brains AND nice-itude, which, as we all know, does you NO good on reality TV. And since my fan favorite is Tom, he'll lose.


Fantasy-wise, things are fine, but it sure would be a pleasant surprise if CBS could get the points right the first time around, and not have to constantly tweak between Friday and mid-week. I'm not quite as ahead as this appears, since I've already answered my bonus questions for the following week, and I believe these points have already been factored in.

America's Next Top Model - 2 Eps Left - Ends Wed., MAY 18th
Four are left as they strike a pose in South Africa. Will Keenyah last another week when all we hear about is how she has *gasp* GAINED weight during the competition? Will Brittany continue to act like a loud-mouthed drunk? Will Kahlen grow a personality? Will Naima learn that a 4:30 deadline doesn't mean 5:15? I'd love to see a final two of Kahlen and Naima, which means it will never happen.

The Apprentice - 2 Eps Left - Ends Thursday, May 19th
Street Smarts vs. Book Smarts. Tana vs. Kendra in an all-female fight to the finish. I have to say, I like both of them, but my fan favorite edges slightly towards Tana, which means she won't win. But in this case, a Kendra win would be OK in my book too.

American Idol - Too Many Episodes Remaining - Ends Never
Four wannabees left. Sing you four, sing! What will the theme be this week? Who will be pitchy? Will Paula be coherent? Who will care? My fan favorite? Bo Bice by a mile. PLUS, he has the best response on Google when you type his name -- Bo Bice:
Did you mean Bob Ice?

Big Brother 6 -- STARTS THURSDAY, JULY 7th
Get ready and get set for another summer of fun. Big Brother is gearing up for a July 7th opening (so much for the rumor of early June). The old house has been torn down to make way for a brand spanking new 2-story number. Executive Producers Arnold and Allison are excited about the new digs, saying the new house will have more of a "loft" look. Personally, I thought you could achieve the same thing in an 8 x 12 foot dorm room, but what do I know? Rumors are still flying about the number of houseguests, estimates have been between 16 and 20, which may or may not include some familiar faces. Less than two months and counting......

Reality Roundup

Gather round cowpokes, because it's time for Reality Roundup. Lots of shows are riding into the sunset this week. Who will win? Who will lose? Who will care?

Amazing Race - Ends TONIGHT
It's been a good run for Amazing Race 7. Controversy, rule changes, rehashed reality stars, truck crashes, and more than one close race to the mat have made this a fun season. Of the final three teams (Romber, Kelly & Ron and Uchenna & Joyce), there is no clear favorite to win -- all are strong teams. I throw my fan favorite vote to Uchenna and Joyce. Which means they'll probably lose.

Survivor - 2 Eps Left - Ends Sunday, May 15th
Oh-Way-Oh! It's been a GREAT survivor season, complete with players being caught off-guard, which isn't easy to do when you consider this is the 10th go-round of the show. The last five standing are Caryn, Jenn, Katie, Ian and Tom. Of course I throw my fan favorite to Tom, who possesses that rare combination of strength, brains AND nice-itude, which, as we all know, does you NO good on reality TV. And since my fan favorite is Tom, he'll lose.


Fantasy-wise, things are fine, but it sure would be a pleasant surprise if CBS could get the points right the first time around, and not have to constantly tweak between Friday and mid-week. I'm not quite as ahead as this appears, since I've already answered my bonus questions for the following week, and I believe these points have already been factored in.

America's Next Top Model - 2 Eps Left - Ends Wed., MAY 18th
Four are left as they strike a pose in South Africa. Will Keenyah last another week when all we hear about is how she has *gasp* GAINED weight during the competition? Will Brittany continue to act like a loud-mouthed drunk? Will Kahlen grow a personality? Will Naima learn that a 4:30 deadline doesn't mean 5:15? I'd love to see a final two of Kahlen and Naima, which means it will never happen.

The Apprentice - 2 Eps Left - Ends Thursday, May 19th
Street Smarts vs. Book Smarts. Tana vs. Kendra in an all-female fight to the finish. I have to say, I like both of them, but my fan favorite edges slightly towards Tana, which means she won't win. But in this case, a Kendra win would be OK in my book too.

American Idol - Too Many Episodes Remaining - Ends Never
Four wannabees left. Sing you four, sing! What will the theme be this week? Who will be pitchy? Will Paula be coherent? Who will care? My fan favorite? Bo Bice by a mile. PLUS, he has the best response on Google when you type his name -- Bo Bice:
Did you mean Bob Ice?

Big Brother 6 -- STARTS THURSDAY, JULY 7th
Get ready and get set for another summer of fun. Big Brother is gearing up for a July 7th opening (so much for the rumor of early June). The old house has been torn down to make way for a brand spanking new 2-story number. Executive Producers Arnold and Allison are excited about the new digs, saying the new house will have more of a "loft" look. Personally, I thought you could achieve the same thing in an 8 x 12 foot dorm room, but what do I know? Rumors are still flying about the number of houseguests, estimates have been between 16 and 20, which may or may not include some familiar faces. Less than two months and counting......

Blogging for Books - Promises, Promises

In Joshilyn Jackson's book gods in Alabama, Arlene Fleet promises God she'll never lie again, stop fornicating with every boy she meets, and never cross the state line into Alabama again, as long as God keeps the body of the man she killed hidden.

For this month's Blogging for Books, write an original blog post about one of three topics: lying, fornicating, or going home.

This Blogging for Books entry is modified from a December 2003 post, Home.

Going Home

When violinist Isaac Stern was asked to describe what it felt like to be onstage, he said, "It's where I'm home; where I'm most happy to be."

Home. On one hand, it's a physical location. A place you can point to and identify. On the other hand, it's a feeling. Serenity, maybe. Peace, comfort, or happiness. Having that place in your life where you are "home" brings feelings of contentment and calm. Things match up. The physical and the spiritual are in synch.

But what happens when the physical location is no longer the spiritual location? When the feelings no longer live at that address? What happens when you feel as if there is no place that will bring you that peace of mind and peace of heart? It feels unsettling. It feels sad and empty.

There are times I've had a home -- that is to say, a physical location -- but not that feeling of contentment. I've had homes that never felt "homey" and jobs where I felt I didn't belong. Sometimes I could identify it, and other times I would bob around in seas of uncertainty, straining to figure out which direction I should go. I was always looking and wishing for that sign with a big arrow: Home this way! It certainly would have made things a lot easier. Bobbing is a bore and uncertainty is tiring.

It seems we are constantly seeking that place where the spiritual lives in the physical. Where we can not only experience peace and contentment, but also point to that place or that situation and say, "This is the place. This is the reason." Everybody takes their own journey at their own pace to find contentment. But it's hard for me to remember and even harder to accept when someone's concept of "home" and happiness is so different from my own.

Because of our electronic umbilical cord, we have the capacity to be an incredibly connected society. There is no greater wonder than having a simultaneous chat with family members down the street, across the country and around the world. Distance may not make a physical home possible, but the computer enables us to build a haven out of bits and bytes. It is here we can nurture our spiritual connection to family and friends by telling stories, sharing burdens and celebrating successes -- all the while decorating our lives with winking smiley faces and keystroke-saving acronyms, IMHO.

But these homes can be fragile structures. Where some see valuable connections to friends and family, others see nothing more than an alternate reality. To some, the designation “on-line friend” carries the implication that once the connection is lost, the person -- as well as the relationship -- is as well. These ephemeral friendships are nothing more than electronic mirages. It'’s the ultimate performance art. Can you hear me now?

In this act of going home -- journeying to that place of peace, serenity, and happiness -- we often face moments when we arrive at a crossroad and meet people from widely divergent paths. These encounters have the potential to be uncomfortable, uneasy, or messy, to say the least. But when we take the time to listen to the stories others have to tell and then share our own experiences, we not only may get a better understanding of exactly where home is, but also what home means.

We can be so focused on our own journey towards that which we call home, that we neglect to recognize those around us. Some are walking along the same path before travelling in a different direction. Some are searching for that sign with a big arrow, unsure which way to go. As you find yourself going home, be aware of those around you. Encourage those who are lost. Recognize those who walk nearby. Celebrate with others when your paths cross and share your stories. We may find peace and friendship in different ways and places, but ultimately, we are all searching for that feeling of happiness, community and contentment that comes from being home.

I'll look for you on my journeys.
I promise.

Blogging for Books - Promises, Promises

In Joshilyn Jackson's book gods in Alabama, Arlene Fleet promises God she'll never lie again, stop fornicating with every boy she meets, and never cross the state line into Alabama again, as long as God keeps the body of the man she killed hidden.

For this month's Blogging for Books, write an original blog post about one of three topics: lying, fornicating, or going home.

This Blogging for Books entry is modified from a December 2003 post, Home.

Going Home

When violinist Isaac Stern was asked to describe what it felt like to be onstage, he said, "It's where I'm home; where I'm most happy to be."

Home. On one hand, it's a physical location. A place you can point to and identify. On the other hand, it's a feeling. Serenity, maybe. Peace, comfort, or happiness. Having that place in your life where you are "home" brings feelings of contentment and calm. Things match up. The physical and the spiritual are in synch.

But what happens when the physical location is no longer the spiritual location? When the feelings no longer live at that address? What happens when you feel as if there is no place that will bring you that peace of mind and peace of heart? It feels unsettling. It feels sad and empty.

There are times I've had a home -- that is to say, a physical location -- but not that feeling of contentment. I've had homes that never felt "homey" and jobs where I felt I didn't belong. Sometimes I could identify it, and other times I would bob around in seas of uncertainty, straining to figure out which direction I should go. I was always looking and wishing for that sign with a big arrow: Home this way! It certainly would have made things a lot easier. Bobbing is a bore and uncertainty is tiring.

It seems we are constantly seeking that place where the spiritual lives in the physical. Where we can not only experience peace and contentment, but also point to that place or that situation and say, "This is the place. This is the reason." Everybody takes their own journey at their own pace to find contentment. But it's hard for me to remember and even harder to accept when someone's concept of "home" and happiness is so different from my own.

Because of our electronic umbilical cord, we have the capacity to be an incredibly connected society. There is no greater wonder than having a simultaneous chat with family members down the street, across the country and around the world. Distance may not make a physical home possible, but the computer enables us to build a haven out of bits and bytes. It is here we can nurture our spiritual connection to family and friends by telling stories, sharing burdens and celebrating successes -- all the while decorating our lives with winking smiley faces and keystroke-saving acronyms, IMHO.

But these homes can be fragile structures. Where some see valuable connections to friends and family, others see nothing more than an alternate reality. To some, the designation “on-line friend” carries the implication that once the connection is lost, the person -- as well as the relationship -- is as well. These ephemeral friendships are nothing more than electronic mirages. It'’s the ultimate performance art. Can you hear me now?

In this act of going home -- journeying to that place of peace, serenity, and happiness -- we often face moments when we arrive at a crossroad and meet people from widely divergent paths. These encounters have the potential to be uncomfortable, uneasy, or messy, to say the least. But when we take the time to listen to the stories others have to tell and then share our own experiences, we not only may get a better understanding of exactly where home is, but also what home means.

We can be so focused on our own journey towards that which we call home, that we neglect to recognize those around us. Some are walking along the same path before travelling in a different direction. Some are searching for that sign with a big arrow, unsure which way to go. As you find yourself going home, be aware of those around you. Encourage those who are lost. Recognize those who walk nearby. Celebrate with others when your paths cross and share your stories. We may find peace and friendship in different ways and places, but ultimately, we are all searching for that feeling of happiness, community and contentment that comes from being home.

I'll look for you on my journeys.
I promise.

Happy Mother's Day

It's greeting cards -- but mothers deserve a heck of a lot more than heavy pressed paper covered with glitter and verse.

It's flowers -- but mothers deserve beauty that lasts more than a week, has no thorns, and needs no watering or pruning.

It's presents -- but no amount of bedazzling could adequately express thanks for 365 days of a job well done.

Of course we love the greeting cards and the flowers and the presents. But it's the day to day that matters. Today on Mother's Day I had to go up north to hear a voice student's recital. But GramTuna and TinyTuna made sure I didn't have to go alone. We may not have spent the day being waited on hand and foot, but we spent the day together. And that was the best present of all.

On Mother's Day, I thanked my mother with heavy pressed paper and a present to say thank you for a job well done. And then I thanked my daughter just for being who she is, and for making my job of "mom" one of the best in the whole world.

The gifts were wholly inadequate.
The sentiment was entirely heartfelt.

I am amazingly lucky.

Happy Mother's Day

It's greeting cards -- but mothers deserve a heck of a lot more than heavy pressed paper covered with glitter and verse.

It's flowers -- but mothers deserve beauty that lasts more than a week, has no thorns, and needs no watering or pruning.

It's presents -- but no amount of bedazzling could adequately express thanks for 365 days of a job well done.

Of course we love the greeting cards and the flowers and the presents. But it's the day to day that matters. Today on Mother's Day I had to go up north to hear a voice student's recital. But GramTuna and TinyTuna made sure I didn't have to go alone. We may not have spent the day being waited on hand and foot, but we spent the day together. And that was the best present of all.

On Mother's Day, I thanked my mother with heavy pressed paper and a present to say thank you for a job well done. And then I thanked my daughter just for being who she is, and for making my job of "mom" one of the best in the whole world.

The gifts were wholly inadequate.
The sentiment was entirely heartfelt.

I am amazingly lucky.

Friday Feast

It's Friday! It's Feastday! It's Friday's Feast!

Appetizer: Name a store or restaurant you no longer visit because of a bad experience you had there.
It could be the Alzheimers talking, but I cannot think of an establishment that I have given up cold turkey. Instead I will relate a small tale of another customer who attempted such a feat.

Back in the olden days of the movie theatre biz, a big big big film release would mean a film would be shown on TWO WHOLE SCREENS, as opposed to a fifty-seven screen opening for an Aston Kutcher masterpiece. This meant films sold out, and sold out often.

One lovely weekend afternoon we were showing a Disney cartoon, and as a surprise to nobody, it sold out. As the time approached for the film to start, a woman dragging her tot came up to the box office (located inside a mall) and asked for tickets. I told her the film had sold out and she went insane at a very high decibel. She screamed at me and threatened me. What was I going to do, nail a couple of extra seats to the floor? I kept saying I was sorry, but she was having none of that. Her parting blow was to shout that she was never, NEVER, NEVER (CAPS LOCK and the whole deal) coming back again.

What she really meant was she was never, NEVER NEVER (CAPS LOCK and the whole deal) coming back again until two weeks later. When she came back. Again. And got her tickets. And saw the movie. Ahem.


Soup: If You Could Own Any Building in Existence, Which One Would You Want?
First thought was the Taj Mahal. But then I thought, "Nah. Who wants everybody tromping all over the place?" My second thought was The National Gallery of Art in Washington DC. But then I thought, "I'd love the art, but after awhile, I would have seen them all." My last thought was



The Sidney Opera House. It's Australia, it's on the water, it's music, dance or theatre every night, and I could have friends over!


Salad: What is Your Favorite Commercial These Days?
Sad to say, commercials are a bit bleah these days. Now that the sad guitar strummin' burger hawkin' purple-fringed Hootie appears to be a thing of the past, I continue to pine for the weirdest of weirds: The Quizno commercials. With those...things.

Main Course: When Was the Last Time You Felt Guilty About Spending Money, and What Was It You Purchased?
The key to successful money-spending is to have your rationalizations all lined up nice and neatly in a row. Because who can feel guilty about buying books? It's educational. And stuff.

Dessert: Friday's Feast is Going To Be Having It's First Birthday in 2 Weeks. What should we Do to celebrate?
Go to a movie.
Sing an opera.
Take Hootie to lunch
(On the moon)
Buy me a book.

Friday Feast

It's Friday! It's Feastday! It's Friday's Feast!

Appetizer: Name a store or restaurant you no longer visit because of a bad experience you had there.
It could be the Alzheimers talking, but I cannot think of an establishment that I have given up cold turkey. Instead I will relate a small tale of another customer who attempted such a feat.

Back in the olden days of the movie theatre biz, a big big big film release would mean a film would be shown on TWO WHOLE SCREENS, as opposed to a fifty-seven screen opening for an Aston Kutcher masterpiece. This meant films sold out, and sold out often.

One lovely weekend afternoon we were showing a Disney cartoon, and as a surprise to nobody, it sold out. As the time approached for the film to start, a woman dragging her tot came up to the box office (located inside a mall) and asked for tickets. I told her the film had sold out and she went insane at a very high decibel. She screamed at me and threatened me. What was I going to do, nail a couple of extra seats to the floor? I kept saying I was sorry, but she was having none of that. Her parting blow was to shout that she was never, NEVER, NEVER (CAPS LOCK and the whole deal) coming back again.

What she really meant was she was never, NEVER NEVER (CAPS LOCK and the whole deal) coming back again until two weeks later. When she came back. Again. And got her tickets. And saw the movie. Ahem.


Soup: If You Could Own Any Building in Existence, Which One Would You Want?
First thought was the Taj Mahal. But then I thought, "Nah. Who wants everybody tromping all over the place?" My second thought was The National Gallery of Art in Washington DC. But then I thought, "I'd love the art, but after awhile, I would have seen them all." My last thought was



The Sidney Opera House. It's Australia, it's on the water, it's music, dance or theatre every night, and I could have friends over!


Salad: What is Your Favorite Commercial These Days?
Sad to say, commercials are a bit bleah these days. Now that the sad guitar strummin' burger hawkin' purple-fringed Hootie appears to be a thing of the past, I continue to pine for the weirdest of weirds: The Quizno commercials. With those...things.

Main Course: When Was the Last Time You Felt Guilty About Spending Money, and What Was It You Purchased?
The key to successful money-spending is to have your rationalizations all lined up nice and neatly in a row. Because who can feel guilty about buying books? It's educational. And stuff.

Dessert: Friday's Feast is Going To Be Having It's First Birthday in 2 Weeks. What should we Do to celebrate?
Go to a movie.
Sing an opera.
Take Hootie to lunch
(On the moon)
Buy me a book.

Funkytown

Now that life is slowing down in the world of academia (thank the everliving Gods, because I am ready to drive all these students home myself), I finally have the time to turn my attention to the disaster formerly known as my office.

For eight months of the year my office is my fortress; my bunker in times of trouble. It is filled with books, scores, CDs, and enough paper to make a Redwood forest weep. Because my humble workspace is roughly the size of a closet, stacking is the name of the game. I am the Queen of precarious piles, and am able to build CD towers so tall that the Brady Bunch would throw their playing cards in the trash can and buy me BOTH the sewing machine and the rowboat.

But now that it's the merry month of May, it's time to TEAR DOWN THOSE WALLS.

For the past several days I've been engaged in an archeological excavation of my office. Large piles of papers have undergone a magical metamorphosis. Once bitter and full of work-related nastiness they have now aged and turned into a delectable pile of scrap, perfect for recycling. It's a beautiful thing.

Piles of other materials have also been moved out of my office with relative speed and ease, and right now -- comparatively speaking, mind you -- this place is looking good.

But I'm nowhere near done, and that's the problem. Everywhere I look I see what's left (believe me, it's ALOT), and to me, it's all cloud and no silver lining. Now there are piles of problems. Problems too complicated, problems too time-consuming, and problems just too ... problematic. They are all smashed in bookcases and on booktrucks staring at me; waiting for me to make the first move. It's not pretty.

And then
*sigh*
I go home.

Home is my cloudy office multiplied by a bazillion.

What happened? I started out with great promise in January. I was pitching, dumping, donating, cleaning and making real progress. Today? Let's just say I used to watch Clean Sweep so I could feel good about myself when compared to the slovenliness of others. But people who live in filthy glass houses shouldn't throw dirty socks.

So I'm trying to motivate myself to do, well, anything that would improve my current domestic situation. Because of the enormity of the task at hand, I am unsurprised to report that this week I am 0-for-4. This is actually worse than it seems because although I've done zero housework, I continue to cook food and wear clothing, thereby creating more dirty dishes and piles of laundry.

The worst part of all is I am 4-for-4 this week in feeling sorry for myself.
This needs to stop.

I'm tired of Funkytown.

Funkytown

Now that life is slowing down in the world of academia (thank the everliving Gods, because I am ready to drive all these students home myself), I finally have the time to turn my attention to the disaster formerly known as my office.

For eight months of the year my office is my fortress; my bunker in times of trouble. It is filled with books, scores, CDs, and enough paper to make a Redwood forest weep. Because my humble workspace is roughly the size of a closet, stacking is the name of the game. I am the Queen of precarious piles, and am able to build CD towers so tall that the Brady Bunch would throw their playing cards in the trash can and buy me BOTH the sewing machine and the rowboat.

But now that it's the merry month of May, it's time to TEAR DOWN THOSE WALLS.

For the past several days I've been engaged in an archeological excavation of my office. Large piles of papers have undergone a magical metamorphosis. Once bitter and full of work-related nastiness they have now aged and turned into a delectable pile of scrap, perfect for recycling. It's a beautiful thing.

Piles of other materials have also been moved out of my office with relative speed and ease, and right now -- comparatively speaking, mind you -- this place is looking good.

But I'm nowhere near done, and that's the problem. Everywhere I look I see what's left (believe me, it's ALOT), and to me, it's all cloud and no silver lining. Now there are piles of problems. Problems too complicated, problems too time-consuming, and problems just too ... problematic. They are all smashed in bookcases and on booktrucks staring at me; waiting for me to make the first move. It's not pretty.

And then
*sigh*
I go home.

Home is my cloudy office multiplied by a bazillion.

What happened? I started out with great promise in January. I was pitching, dumping, donating, cleaning and making real progress. Today? Let's just say I used to watch Clean Sweep so I could feel good about myself when compared to the slovenliness of others. But people who live in filthy glass houses shouldn't throw dirty socks.

So I'm trying to motivate myself to do, well, anything that would improve my current domestic situation. Because of the enormity of the task at hand, I am unsurprised to report that this week I am 0-for-4. This is actually worse than it seems because although I've done zero housework, I continue to cook food and wear clothing, thereby creating more dirty dishes and piles of laundry.

The worst part of all is I am 4-for-4 this week in feeling sorry for myself.
This needs to stop.

I'm tired of Funkytown.

Just What the Tuna Ordered

It says a lot when I can have a gut-wrenchingly bad day at work, come home and in a fit of anger start confiscating things that have been lying dormant all over the house, argue about whether said items (including the holy box of stickers) will ever be returned, collapse on the couch following an extra strength Tylenol/Sudafed dessert and wake up 15 minutes later only to find myself covered up with a blanket with TinyTuna sitting next to me, patting my head, asking me if I'm OK.

I love my kid.

Just What the Tuna Ordered

It says a lot when I can have a gut-wrenchingly bad day at work, come home and in a fit of anger start confiscating things that have been lying dormant all over the house, argue about whether said items (including the holy box of stickers) will ever be returned, collapse on the couch following an extra strength Tylenol/Sudafed dessert and wake up 15 minutes later only to find myself covered up with a blanket with TinyTuna sitting next to me, patting my head, asking me if I'm OK.

I love my kid.

Unconscious Mutterings

I say...And You Think

1. Texas::Toast
   
   
2. Scholarship::Money
   
   
3. Runner-up::Loser
   
   
4. Mustang Sally::Song
   
   
5. Jones:: Keeping Up With
   
   
6. Hard to get::Afar
   
   
7. Jewish::Tevye
   
   
8. Crew::Boat
   
   
9. Cable::TV
   
   
10. Assistant::Helper

Tevye. Right. I think I need to get that Fiddler on the Roof CD out of the car. And now, I guarantee I'll have Mustang Sally in my head all morning. Perfect for church, don't you think? Words courtesy of Unconcious Mutterings.

Unconscious Mutterings

I say...And You Think

1. Texas::Toast
   
   
2. Scholarship::Money
   
   
3. Runner-up::Loser
   
   
4. Mustang Sally::Song
   
   
5. Jones:: Keeping Up With
   
   
6. Hard to get::Afar
   
   
7. Jewish::Tevye
   
   
8. Crew::Boat
   
   
9. Cable::TV
   
   
10. Assistant::Helper

Tevye. Right. I think I need to get that Fiddler on the Roof CD out of the car. And now, I guarantee I'll have Mustang Sally in my head all morning. Perfect for church, don't you think? Words courtesy of Unconcious Mutterings.