Bidding by the Dock of the Bay

Despite its massive popularity, I'm convinced a large percentage of the population does not understand the concept of eBay. To whit: Yesterday I found an item of interest. Said item had an opening price of $9.95 -- Unbelievably Low! -- and was set as a six day auction.

1st Important Fact: SIX DAYS = FOREVER

When an auction has an extended bidding time, the rule is to lay low and have patience. If the opening price is set far below value, this is a good thing. Like the Beatles said, LET IT BE.

This morning I jumped online to check the status of said item. Remember now, there are still FIVE days left in the bid.

2nd Important Fact: FIVE DAYS = FOREVER

Much to my dismay, in 24 hours the price had jumped to $95. I was bummed to see how fast the price had risen, but when I looked at the bidding history I was ready to club Moron795 into next week.

Opening: $9.95
Bid #1: $50.00

3rd Important Fact: BID LOW, BID SLOW

With no reserve price to meet, with forever to go in the auction, and with no previous bids, Moron795 opened with a bid of $50. Why? WHY? WHY? What's the rush? Why not bid $15? $20? There is no reason to give yourself to Ulysses S. Grant on the first date. Test the waters with Andrew Jackson before moving to the big leagues.

Now with over four days left, the bidding is already out of control. Gone is the opportunity and put in a couple of dummy bids to drive up the price for fun. Gone is the thrill of the final 37 seconds as you hit the refresh key with rapid fire precision to ensure a successful last minute snatch from your competitor. I may not be able to throw my electronic wallet at this auction, but I look forward to next time when Moron795 and GreenTuna battle it out at the eBay corral.

Bidding by the Dock of the Bay

Despite its massive popularity, I'm convinced a large percentage of the population does not understand the concept of eBay. To whit: Yesterday I found an item of interest. Said item had an opening price of $9.95 -- Unbelievably Low! -- and was set as a six day auction.

1st Important Fact: SIX DAYS = FOREVER

When an auction has an extended bidding time, the rule is to lay low and have patience. If the opening price is set far below value, this is a good thing. Like the Beatles said, LET IT BE.

This morning I jumped online to check the status of said item. Remember now, there are still FIVE days left in the bid.

2nd Important Fact: FIVE DAYS = FOREVER

Much to my dismay, in 24 hours the price had jumped to $95. I was bummed to see how fast the price had risen, but when I looked at the bidding history I was ready to club Moron795 into next week.

Opening: $9.95
Bid #1: $50.00

3rd Important Fact: BID LOW, BID SLOW

With no reserve price to meet, with forever to go in the auction, and with no previous bids, Moron795 opened with a bid of $50. Why? WHY? WHY? What's the rush? Why not bid $15? $20? There is no reason to give yourself to Ulysses S. Grant on the first date. Test the waters with Andrew Jackson before moving to the big leagues.

Now with over four days left, the bidding is already out of control. Gone is the opportunity and put in a couple of dummy bids to drive up the price for fun. Gone is the thrill of the final 37 seconds as you hit the refresh key with rapid fire precision to ensure a successful last minute snatch from your competitor. I may not be able to throw my electronic wallet at this auction, but I look forward to next time when Moron795 and GreenTuna battle it out at the eBay corral.

Letters from the Front

I know this is where I win the bad mother of the year award, but I just can't help it. Yesterday's missive from TinyTuna:

Subject: A BAD DAY

Today was an interesting day. It began at lunch when I found out the menu lied and their was popcorn chicken. I got a chicken sandwich and some flies, I hope that was OK. Then After school I found I had left my notebook in the math room. I opened it and I found scribbles on it that said C sucks and it is ruined all the way. Luckily it was in pencil so I can erase it clear off. I took the math test today and I didn't finish so I am going to finish tomorrow.

I love you and I will talk to you about these events on the way to choir.

Love and Anger

TinyTuna (Sourpuss)

Damn. That's one bad day.

I teased her a little bit about eating flies instead of fries, but by this time the BAD DAY seemed to have worn off and she was back to her regular self.

And now, dear Internets, I must return to my desk that runneth over with job security.

Love and Anger

Greentuna (Sourpuss)

Letters from the Front

I know this is where I win the bad mother of the year award, but I just can't help it. Yesterday's missive from TinyTuna:

Subject: A BAD DAY

Today was an interesting day. It began at lunch when I found out the menu lied and their was popcorn chicken. I got a chicken sandwich and some flies, I hope that was OK. Then After school I found I had left my notebook in the math room. I opened it and I found scribbles on it that said C sucks and it is ruined all the way. Luckily it was in pencil so I can erase it clear off. I took the math test today and I didn't finish so I am going to finish tomorrow.

I love you and I will talk to you about these events on the way to choir.

Love and Anger

TinyTuna (Sourpuss)

Damn. That's one bad day.

I teased her a little bit about eating flies instead of fries, but by this time the BAD DAY seemed to have worn off and she was back to her regular self.

And now, dear Internets, I must return to my desk that runneth over with job security.

Love and Anger

Greentuna (Sourpuss)

Love Thy Enemy

Last fall, several blogs I follow went through a crisis, and in the end, many relocated. The problem fell squarely on the shoulders of that bloated corporate giant America Online. It seems, the You Got Mail! company conveniently forgot to tell all its journalers you got ADS! and started parking blinking blonking banners at the top of the journal webpages. They didn't ask, and they sure didn't tell. They went Nike and just DID IT, and consequently many AOL members flipped their bitchcake lids and then left for blinky-less shores.

I was surprised that they were surprised. After all, AOL had never struck me as a particularly sensitive corporate entity. This is the company that doesn't provide cancellation information on their website yet REQUIRES you to give a reason if you try to leave the party early (becoming Amish and no longer believing in electricity doesn't work. Seriously. I tried), yet stuffs FREE 80,000 HOURS installation disks in the mail chute like they were invitations to Hogwarts.

So many AOL refugees turned to Blogger and other blog hosting sites in order to escape the hated ads. But I am here to say, you just don't know what you're missing.

I love the Blogger ads. I love them so much, I purposefully added them back in once they became optional. Because Blogger ads are based on page content (and thankfully don't blink and cause seizures), everyday at the Tuna News Ads bar is like Christmas day. Remember, without Blogger ads, the magic of the amazing Peelit would remained unknown. And I think we can all agree that would be a very sad and empty existence indeed.

So, you might understand my excitement when today one of my Blogger Ads led me, like a shining star in the sky, to this

(And lo, Marybear and Josephbear gave The Baby JesusBear...Pinatas)

and this

(Those two king bears look kind of wasted)

AND THIS

(advertisement reads: Includes Moose Jesus, Mary, Joseph and Two Angels!)

AND THIS!!

(The Poker dogs couldn't make it, but bad Perm Dogs were free)

AND THIS!!!!

(Flying Monkeys. FLYING MONKEYS!)

AND SWEET BABY JESUS IN CAPS LOCK, BOLD AND LEANED OVER,
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THIS !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A Chickentivity set. Cluck.

You see, sainted rabbits and squirrels adore the holy...uh,
raccoon....who...uhhh, is....uh, generally regarded to be an
annoying garbage eating thief who....well you see.....


It's downright inspirational.


Were it not for Blogger Ads, we'd never know.
We'd NEVER EVER KNOW.
Thank you Blogger. Thank you.

Love Thy Enemy

Last fall, several blogs I follow went through a crisis, and in the end, many relocated. The problem fell squarely on the shoulders of that bloated corporate giant America Online. It seems, the You Got Mail! company conveniently forgot to tell all its journalers you got ADS! and started parking blinking blonking banners at the top of the journal webpages. They didn't ask, and they sure didn't tell. They went Nike and just DID IT, and consequently many AOL members flipped their bitchcake lids and then left for blinky-less shores.

I was surprised that they were surprised. After all, AOL had never struck me as a particularly sensitive corporate entity. This is the company that doesn't provide cancellation information on their website yet REQUIRES you to give a reason if you try to leave the party early (becoming Amish and no longer believing in electricity doesn't work. Seriously. I tried), yet stuffs FREE 80,000 HOURS installation disks in the mail chute like they were invitations to Hogwarts.

So many AOL refugees turned to Blogger and other blog hosting sites in order to escape the hated ads. But I am here to say, you just don't know what you're missing.

I love the Blogger ads. I love them so much, I purposefully added them back in once they became optional. Because Blogger ads are based on page content (and thankfully don't blink and cause seizures), everyday at the Tuna News Ads bar is like Christmas day. Remember, without Blogger ads, the magic of the amazing Peelit would remained unknown. And I think we can all agree that would be a very sad and empty existence indeed.

So, you might understand my excitement when today one of my Blogger Ads led me, like a shining star in the sky, to this

(And lo, Marybear and Josephbear gave The Baby JesusBear...Pinatas)

and this

(Those two king bears look kind of wasted)

AND THIS

(advertisement reads: Includes Moose Jesus, Mary, Joseph and Two Angels!)

AND THIS!!

(The Poker dogs couldn't make it, but bad Perm Dogs were free)

AND THIS!!!!

(Flying Monkeys. FLYING MONKEYS!)

AND SWEET BABY JESUS IN CAPS LOCK, BOLD AND LEANED OVER,
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THIS !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A Chickentivity set. Cluck.

You see, sainted rabbits and squirrels adore the holy...uh,
raccoon....who...uhhh, is....uh, generally regarded to be an
annoying garbage eating thief who....well you see.....


It's downright inspirational.


Were it not for Blogger Ads, we'd never know.
We'd NEVER EVER KNOW.
Thank you Blogger. Thank you.

Reebok Resolutions

The great room purge of 2006 was prompted by a single, catastrophic event. On Monday morning, December 26th, as I attempted to pack for the upcoming travels to ride the family go round in our Nation's Capitol, I couldn't find my shoe.

Not shoes. Plural.

Shoe. Singular.

In the midst of the mountains of mess, I found only one shoe that I could wear in public. Everything else was only fit for gardening, lawn mowing, or eating a Home Depot Dog. It's important to note that the wearing of ratty shoes to Home Depot doesn't count as "wearing in public" because it is perfectly acceptable and even expected that one will visit the Depot in scruffy attire.

So I had one good tennis shoe.
And by virtue of having only one shoe, it defied the rule of shoes.
And the rule of shoes is: Where there's one, there's two.

Think about it. You come home. You kick off your shoes. You don't take one off and kick the other one across the room. They stay in somewhat relative proximity to each other. Even with the daily ebb and flow of junk, both shoes should be easily found in a floor sweep made with your remaining shoeless foot.

But I only had one. So I commenced the besocked floor sweep.
Still only one.

So, I moved some stuff onto the bed.
Still only one.

And I moved some other stuff onto the bed.
Still only one.

This was ridiculous.
I had worn both shoes -- at the same time -- 24 hours earlier.
Still only one.

By this time I was over the edge angry. I understood things were a mess, I understood it was my fault, but dammit, all I needed at the moment was my other shoe. My rebel Reebok was holding up my departure. I bruised my ankle by doing a foot floor sweep under the entire bed. It might have been more productive to get on hands and knees and actually look under the bed, but I figured I had already humiliated myself enough for one morning.

Eventually the shoe surfaced. Where it was exactly, I don't know, and frankly, don't care. It showed up, I put it on my foot before I lost it again, and I vowed then and there -- with God as my witness -- that I would never go shoeless again.

As the great room purge of 2006 continues, all my shoes, save one pair, are sitting in the living room, awaiting the final sort and purge. And the rebel Reeboks -- both of them -- are sitting quietly by the side of my bed.

We can only hope my old dogs are learning new tricks.

Reebok Resolutions

The great room purge of 2006 was prompted by a single, catastrophic event. On Monday morning, December 26th, as I attempted to pack for the upcoming travels to ride the family go round in our Nation's Capitol, I couldn't find my shoe.

Not shoes. Plural.

Shoe. Singular.

In the midst of the mountains of mess, I found only one shoe that I could wear in public. Everything else was only fit for gardening, lawn mowing, or eating a Home Depot Dog. It's important to note that the wearing of ratty shoes to Home Depot doesn't count as "wearing in public" because it is perfectly acceptable and even expected that one will visit the Depot in scruffy attire.

So I had one good tennis shoe.
And by virtue of having only one shoe, it defied the rule of shoes.
And the rule of shoes is: Where there's one, there's two.

Think about it. You come home. You kick off your shoes. You don't take one off and kick the other one across the room. They stay in somewhat relative proximity to each other. Even with the daily ebb and flow of junk, both shoes should be easily found in a floor sweep made with your remaining shoeless foot.

But I only had one. So I commenced the besocked floor sweep.
Still only one.

So, I moved some stuff onto the bed.
Still only one.

And I moved some other stuff onto the bed.
Still only one.

This was ridiculous.
I had worn both shoes -- at the same time -- 24 hours earlier.
Still only one.

By this time I was over the edge angry. I understood things were a mess, I understood it was my fault, but dammit, all I needed at the moment was my other shoe. My rebel Reebok was holding up my departure. I bruised my ankle by doing a foot floor sweep under the entire bed. It might have been more productive to get on hands and knees and actually look under the bed, but I figured I had already humiliated myself enough for one morning.

Eventually the shoe surfaced. Where it was exactly, I don't know, and frankly, don't care. It showed up, I put it on my foot before I lost it again, and I vowed then and there -- with God as my witness -- that I would never go shoeless again.

As the great room purge of 2006 continues, all my shoes, save one pair, are sitting in the living room, awaiting the final sort and purge. And the rebel Reeboks -- both of them -- are sitting quietly by the side of my bed.

We can only hope my old dogs are learning new tricks.

War Games Take Two

Last year at this time, I made a big fat hairy deal about declaring war. The name of my war was

The War of Good God Almighty
Where Did All This Crap Come From?

Catchy.

I cleaned and I tossed (and tossed and tossed and tossed), and crowed about my amazing accomplishments, until January 9th, 2005 -- six whole days later -- when my big fat hairy deal war was never heard from again.

What happened?

The easy answer is that life happened. A basement flood happened. More life happened. Good stuff and Bad stuff. A spring break spent in New York City. A summer gig spent on Beeeeeeavvvvvver Iiiiiiiislaaaaaaaaand. A fall semester so busy I often got too tired to write. THAT busy. By Christmas time, when it was appropriate to display the nativity scene, I didn't have to go to the basement to find it, because once again Baby Jesus was still hanging out on my dresser from Christmas 2004. The Tuna family adoration achieved such a period of longevity that a polar bear had stopped by, joining the sheep and wise men to see what all the fuss was about.

Once the holidays and family gatherings were over, it was time to act. So, for ten hours today I began the enormous room purge of 2006. The rules of room purge are simple: EVERYTHING OUT. Did I finish? Not yet. But big progress was made today, and tonight I will enjoy sleeping on an entire bed, instead of that small corner that isn't covered with stuff.

This year I plan to brag less and clean more. I'm no longer content to win the battle. I want to win the war.

War Games Take Two

Last year at this time, I made a big fat hairy deal about declaring war. The name of my war was

The War of Good God Almighty
Where Did All This Crap Come From?

Catchy.

I cleaned and I tossed (and tossed and tossed and tossed), and crowed about my amazing accomplishments, until January 9th, 2005 -- six whole days later -- when my big fat hairy deal war was never heard from again.

What happened?

The easy answer is that life happened. A basement flood happened. More life happened. Good stuff and Bad stuff. A spring break spent in New York City. A summer gig spent on Beeeeeeavvvvvver Iiiiiiiislaaaaaaaaand. A fall semester so busy I often got too tired to write. THAT busy. By Christmas time, when it was appropriate to display the nativity scene, I didn't have to go to the basement to find it, because once again Baby Jesus was still hanging out on my dresser from Christmas 2004. The Tuna family adoration achieved such a period of longevity that a polar bear had stopped by, joining the sheep and wise men to see what all the fuss was about.

Once the holidays and family gatherings were over, it was time to act. So, for ten hours today I began the enormous room purge of 2006. The rules of room purge are simple: EVERYTHING OUT. Did I finish? Not yet. But big progress was made today, and tonight I will enjoy sleeping on an entire bed, instead of that small corner that isn't covered with stuff.

This year I plan to brag less and clean more. I'm no longer content to win the battle. I want to win the war.

Unconscious Mutterings

My mutterrer has been away for awhile. Let's see what happens.

I say ... AND YOU THINK:

1. Celebrate :: Party

2. Resolve :: Promise

3. I need to :: Sleep

4. Call :: Phone

5a. Token :: Of my affection
5b. Token :: South Park

6. Brand :: Name

7. Comparison :: Shopping

8. Far away :: Distant Shore

9. Artful :: Dodger

10. Fantastic :: Four


Ahh, the olden days, when "Phone" was both noun and verb. I couldn't choose between my two "Token" answers. Technically, "Of my affection" came to mind first, but how could I not list one of my favorite South Park characters? As for the Fantastic Four, I don't think I'd be able to score a 50% on naming any of them, except to guess Incredible Hulk. Right?

And now,
I need...to sleep.

Unconscious Mutterings

My mutterrer has been away for awhile. Let's see what happens.

I say ... AND YOU THINK:

1. Celebrate :: Party

2. Resolve :: Promise

3. I need to :: Sleep

4. Call :: Phone

5a. Token :: Of my affection
5b. Token :: South Park

6. Brand :: Name

7. Comparison :: Shopping

8. Far away :: Distant Shore

9. Artful :: Dodger

10. Fantastic :: Four


Ahh, the olden days, when "Phone" was both noun and verb. I couldn't choose between my two "Token" answers. Technically, "Of my affection" came to mind first, but how could I not list one of my favorite South Park characters? As for the Fantastic Four, I don't think I'd be able to score a 50% on naming any of them, except to guess Incredible Hulk. Right?

And now,
I need...to sleep.

Boogie Nights

Today the Tuna clan ventured forth to TunaU to watch the Lady Spartunas demolish the visiting University of Michigan Wolverines on the basketball court (77-44 for those keeping score. Like me). I underestimated the attendance by a mile (over 12,000!) but, thanks to BigBroTuna, we scored general seating tickets on the bleachers 3 rows up from the floor, right next to the Band.

Because the students are still blessedly away until Monday, the Pep Band today was comprised of Alumni players, who proved to be as entertaining as the game itself. It's obvious that they had practiced some, but not too much. Or, maybe just enough to get into trouble.

Now, I'm sure every current and former member of the MSU Spartan Band can play the fight song and the Alma Mater by heart. But there was nothing funnier than watching the pep band, whose average age was something close to 70 years old try to fumble their way through "Jungle Boogie."

Today's game proved one thing: Alumni ain't got no syncopation.

During one of the many timeouts, TinyTuna and I ventured forth to obtain our free ice cream cookie sandwich. On our way out, we said hi to one of the Baritone players, who just happened to be a dirty rotten church skipper on this first day of the year. We informed him of such, and he acknowledged his sinful ways as he fumbled through his belongings to find his music and glasses... just in time to play the last five notes of "Hang on Sloopy." Next, we passed one of TinyTuna's acquaintances, a recent graduated of the PhD program, who also happens to be over 70 years young.

"Are you having a good time?" She asked TinyTuna.
"I'm having a blast!" TinyTuna replied.
"Me too! It's a great game!" She answered.

And then she was off with the rest of the Alumni band, to Jungle Boogie one more time.

Boogie Nights

Today the Tuna clan ventured forth to TunaU to watch the Lady Spartunas demolish the visiting University of Michigan Wolverines on the basketball court (77-44 for those keeping score. Like me). I underestimated the attendance by a mile (over 12,000!) but, thanks to BigBroTuna, we scored general seating tickets on the bleachers 3 rows up from the floor, right next to the Band.

Because the students are still blessedly away until Monday, the Pep Band today was comprised of Alumni players, who proved to be as entertaining as the game itself. It's obvious that they had practiced some, but not too much. Or, maybe just enough to get into trouble.

Now, I'm sure every current and former member of the MSU Spartan Band can play the fight song and the Alma Mater by heart. But there was nothing funnier than watching the pep band, whose average age was something close to 70 years old try to fumble their way through "Jungle Boogie."

Today's game proved one thing: Alumni ain't got no syncopation.

During one of the many timeouts, TinyTuna and I ventured forth to obtain our free ice cream cookie sandwich. On our way out, we said hi to one of the Baritone players, who just happened to be a dirty rotten church skipper on this first day of the year. We informed him of such, and he acknowledged his sinful ways as he fumbled through his belongings to find his music and glasses... just in time to play the last five notes of "Hang on Sloopy." Next, we passed one of TinyTuna's acquaintances, a recent graduated of the PhD program, who also happens to be over 70 years young.

"Are you having a good time?" She asked TinyTuna.
"I'm having a blast!" TinyTuna replied.
"Me too! It's a great game!" She answered.

And then she was off with the rest of the Alumni band, to Jungle Boogie one more time.

Q - R - S

Today's best one-liner was uttered by TinyTuna today while playing the umpty billionth game of Clue on the previously hashed and rehashed Gameboy:


"Mom! I was right! I was right! I won the game!"

"Oh yeah, who did it?"

"REVEREND GREEN.....IN THE LIBRARY.......With the WENCH!

"I believe the word you are looking for is WRENCH. With an R."

"Oh."

"There's a BIG difference."

"Well...Well, he still DID IT."

"Evidently, he did."



Funny the magic one little letter can do.
Here's to hoping that in 2006 we might all be so lucky.

Q - R - S

Today's best one-liner was uttered by TinyTuna today while playing the umpty billionth game of Clue on the previously hashed and rehashed Gameboy:


"Mom! I was right! I was right! I won the game!"

"Oh yeah, who did it?"

"REVEREND GREEN.....IN THE LIBRARY.......With the WENCH!

"I believe the word you are looking for is WRENCH. With an R."

"Oh."

"There's a BIG difference."

"Well...Well, he still DID IT."

"Evidently, he did."



Funny the magic one little letter can do.
Here's to hoping that in 2006 we might all be so lucky.

A Toast

Yesterday we raised our champagne glasses in celebration and honor of parents, children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, family and friends.

Today I'm happy for the time I had, and for the family that makes it all possible.

Tomorrow we load up the car, the people and the presents, both wrapped and unwrapped, and head back home.

It will be several months until we are together again. But until that time, we have pictures to share and stories to tell.

For some reason, every pass between Michigan and Maryland, whether we're coming or going, is bittersweet. Each time we arrive we are different than the last time we left. Each time we leave, I cannot help but wonder changes will rearrange our lives in the interim.

It's impossible to know what life will bring us while we're apart. The best we can do is hope that next year at this time, we can be together to raise our champagne glasses once again.

A Toast

Yesterday we raised our champagne glasses in celebration and honor of parents, children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, family and friends.

Today I'm happy for the time I had, and for the family that makes it all possible.

Tomorrow we load up the car, the people and the presents, both wrapped and unwrapped, and head back home.

It will be several months until we are together again. But until that time, we have pictures to share and stories to tell.

For some reason, every pass between Michigan and Maryland, whether we're coming or going, is bittersweet. Each time we arrive we are different than the last time we left. Each time we leave, I cannot help but wonder changes will rearrange our lives in the interim.

It's impossible to know what life will bring us while we're apart. The best we can do is hope that next year at this time, we can be together to raise our champagne glasses once again.

Point-Counterpoint

As you can tell from the previous post, this Christmas I finally caved. I wasn't planning on admitting this to the Internets at large, because I had made such a big hairy deal for so many years: No Gameboys.

Despite my foot putting downing, TinyTuna hung on, as only a pre-teen can. She asked. She begged. She pleaded. She complained. She whined. Yet, in spite of her non-stop hammering, I held strong: No Gameboys.

This Christmas I finally decided, OK. A big reason was that I finally found some games that weren't all shoot 'em ups or steal and crash cars games. I found strategy games like Checkers and Chess, Scrabble and Sorry. I found word puzzle games like crosswords and word-searches. And, of course, I found the action-adventure games that everybody wants. So overall, I felt there were enough choices to appease my parental skin-crawling aversion to electronic mind-numbing.

The gift of the previously decreed No Gameboy was huge, because her slightly younger cousin got one just like it (and her even younger cousin had gotten one in July), so on Christmas day they spent much time clicking and clacking while the 30-second music track looped on and on and on and on.

I bought the previously decreed No Gameboy with the thought that this would be used under strict supervision and according to several household rules. Generally it was to be used for long car trips, which we take at least twice a year, or when her touring choir takes a long bus trip. These would be times when I felt it was appropriate to plug in a tune out, for a little while.

But the present is new, and I knew that she would want to overdose on the previously decreed No Gameboy for awhile, and I was prepared for that. Or so I thought.

It doesn't help when you give an obsessive compulsive kid an obsessive compulsive toy. It doesn't help when you give a perfectionist a new game that she doesn't know how to instantly master and beat AND WHY CAN'T I GET FROZONE TO MAKE ICE STEPS? AND OH MAN! THEY MELTED!! AND I'LL NEVER EVER KILL THE WHITE WITCH OF NARNIA EVER BECAUSE I JUST DON'T KNOW HOW TO DO THIS!!! AND THIS GAME IS TOO HARD.

This, of course, drives me through the roof.

Listen. I don't know how Frozone makes ice steps. I don't know how to kill the White Witch of Narnia, and there was no reason to get THAT bent out of shape when I suggested she throw a sandwich at her (MOM! That's NOT WHAT YOU DO). She asks for my help but won't hand me the game, which causes a great deal of difficulty, because I'm a hands-on Tuna when it comes to learning.

So, I'm listening to all the whining, the griping, and the complaining, and I'm thinking to myself, "Self, I was getting this crap BEFORE I bought the previously decreed No Gameboy. Where is my win in this situation?" Of course, all the aforementioned behavior only happens when she deigns to speak at all, which has now slowed to a "Mom will you get me......." trickle.

Needless to say, TinyTuna and I have had ISSUES.
Needless to say, I've already taken it away -- twice.
Needless to say, there have been tears.

But, needless to say, it has provided an opportunity to talk about self-control, and appropriate manners, and when to play it and when to put it away, and how, in the long run, we really prefer talking to her and listening to all her wonderful ideas and stories, because those are so much better than any previously decreed No Gameboy could ever be.

She's only 11, but she's starting to figure it out. So maybe the previously decreed No Gameboy was an educational toy after all.

I'll take it.

And yeah, I love her.

Point-Counterpoint

As you can tell from the previous post, this Christmas I finally caved. I wasn't planning on admitting this to the Internets at large, because I had made such a big hairy deal for so many years: No Gameboys.

Despite my foot putting downing, TinyTuna hung on, as only a pre-teen can. She asked. She begged. She pleaded. She complained. She whined. Yet, in spite of her non-stop hammering, I held strong: No Gameboys.

This Christmas I finally decided, OK. A big reason was that I finally found some games that weren't all shoot 'em ups or steal and crash cars games. I found strategy games like Checkers and Chess, Scrabble and Sorry. I found word puzzle games like crosswords and word-searches. And, of course, I found the action-adventure games that everybody wants. So overall, I felt there were enough choices to appease my parental skin-crawling aversion to electronic mind-numbing.

The gift of the previously decreed No Gameboy was huge, because her slightly younger cousin got one just like it (and her even younger cousin had gotten one in July), so on Christmas day they spent much time clicking and clacking while the 30-second music track looped on and on and on and on.

I bought the previously decreed No Gameboy with the thought that this would be used under strict supervision and according to several household rules. Generally it was to be used for long car trips, which we take at least twice a year, or when her touring choir takes a long bus trip. These would be times when I felt it was appropriate to plug in a tune out, for a little while.

But the present is new, and I knew that she would want to overdose on the previously decreed No Gameboy for awhile, and I was prepared for that. Or so I thought.

It doesn't help when you give an obsessive compulsive kid an obsessive compulsive toy. It doesn't help when you give a perfectionist a new game that she doesn't know how to instantly master and beat AND WHY CAN'T I GET FROZONE TO MAKE ICE STEPS? AND OH MAN! THEY MELTED!! AND I'LL NEVER EVER KILL THE WHITE WITCH OF NARNIA EVER BECAUSE I JUST DON'T KNOW HOW TO DO THIS!!! AND THIS GAME IS TOO HARD.

This, of course, drives me through the roof.

Listen. I don't know how Frozone makes ice steps. I don't know how to kill the White Witch of Narnia, and there was no reason to get THAT bent out of shape when I suggested she throw a sandwich at her (MOM! That's NOT WHAT YOU DO). She asks for my help but won't hand me the game, which causes a great deal of difficulty, because I'm a hands-on Tuna when it comes to learning.

So, I'm listening to all the whining, the griping, and the complaining, and I'm thinking to myself, "Self, I was getting this crap BEFORE I bought the previously decreed No Gameboy. Where is my win in this situation?" Of course, all the aforementioned behavior only happens when she deigns to speak at all, which has now slowed to a "Mom will you get me......." trickle.

Needless to say, TinyTuna and I have had ISSUES.
Needless to say, I've already taken it away -- twice.
Needless to say, there have been tears.

But, needless to say, it has provided an opportunity to talk about self-control, and appropriate manners, and when to play it and when to put it away, and how, in the long run, we really prefer talking to her and listening to all her wonderful ideas and stories, because those are so much better than any previously decreed No Gameboy could ever be.

She's only 11, but she's starting to figure it out. So maybe the previously decreed No Gameboy was an educational toy after all.

I'll take it.

And yeah, I love her.

Tinytuna Returns

For the first time in my life I'm posting a blog! So exciting, that I could just fall over. After watching my mother (Greentuna), I thought I would do one of my own. But I'm afraid that I'm not as funny as my mother, so mine might be more of showing and not telling.

This morning started out as usual. Breakfast at the table of sausage, and toast. It was about 10: 30 a.m. when I had a meltdown with Greentuna, and a little later at about 11:30 a.m. I had another. Sometimes I can't control myself and my emotions, so I let loose. Unlike some people who can control themselves are on a Control List as I call it, but me, well lets just say I'm at the top of the other list.

All of the whining and all the fighting was happening because of a Christmas present my mother gave me ,that I had wanted for a long time, a Game Boy Advance. I had wanted one for so many years I got right into it. I played and played in the car and almost everywhere I went I played for a long time. After playing all three games, (Chronicles of Narnia, Puzzles, Sorry, Scrabble Jr, and Aggravation,) I really lost it, but we're not going there.

Later on we had a talk, and I finally understood what I was doing wrong. Before I had the game boy I was pleasant and I talked to people. Now that I have one I spend all my time playing on it and I don't say a word. But I still make mistakes, as do everybody at some points, but I'm at the top of the list.

Even thought me and my mother fight a lot, we still love each other.

Well it has been a pleasure talking to you, and I hope that I will sometime post another blog. I'm Tinytuna, bidding you a good evening.

Tinytuna Returns

For the first time in my life I'm posting a blog! So exciting, that I could just fall over. After watching my mother (Greentuna), I thought I would do one of my own. But I'm afraid that I'm not as funny as my mother, so mine might be more of showing and not telling.

This morning started out as usual. Breakfast at the table of sausage, and toast. It was about 10: 30 a.m. when I had a meltdown with Greentuna, and a little later at about 11:30 a.m. I had another. Sometimes I can't control myself and my emotions, so I let loose. Unlike some people who can control themselves are on a Control List as I call it, but me, well lets just say I'm at the top of the other list.

All of the whining and all the fighting was happening because of a Christmas present my mother gave me ,that I had wanted for a long time, a Game Boy Advance. I had wanted one for so many years I got right into it. I played and played in the car and almost everywhere I went I played for a long time. After playing all three games, (Chronicles of Narnia, Puzzles, Sorry, Scrabble Jr, and Aggravation,) I really lost it, but we're not going there.

Later on we had a talk, and I finally understood what I was doing wrong. Before I had the game boy I was pleasant and I talked to people. Now that I have one I spend all my time playing on it and I don't say a word. But I still make mistakes, as do everybody at some points, but I'm at the top of the list.

Even thought me and my mother fight a lot, we still love each other.

Well it has been a pleasure talking to you, and I hope that I will sometime post another blog. I'm Tinytuna, bidding you a good evening.

Let Sleeping Fuzz Lie

Away in a bucket, no crib for a bed,
The little boy panda laid down his sweet head.
A small soccer ball was placed down where he lay,
The little boy panda just sleeps all the day.

Travels With Tuna -- Day Two (Short Version)

Morning spent at National Zoo. Head count included:

Two lions -- sleeping.
One tiger -- sleeping.
One prairie dog town -- sleeping (we assume) underground.
One capybara -- sleeping.
One giraffe -- eating.
Two elephants outside -- shifting
Two elephants inside -- eating
An unconfirmed rumor of a hippopotamus eating a banana
One head of one adult panda eating bamboo.
One zebra -- zebraing.
One small horse thing with more consonants in its name than vowels -- standing
One gorilla -- sitting
One smaller reddish monkey -- examining his knee
One baby panda -- sleeping.
Tuna Clan -- watching one baby panda -- sleeping.

Let Sleeping Fuzz Lie

Away in a bucket, no crib for a bed,
The little boy panda laid down his sweet head.
A small soccer ball was placed down where he lay,
The little boy panda just sleeps all the day.

Travels With Tuna -- Day Two (Short Version)

Morning spent at National Zoo. Head count included:

Two lions -- sleeping.
One tiger -- sleeping.
One prairie dog town -- sleeping (we assume) underground.
One capybara -- sleeping.
One giraffe -- eating.
Two elephants outside -- shifting
Two elephants inside -- eating
An unconfirmed rumor of a hippopotamus eating a banana
One head of one adult panda eating bamboo.
One zebra -- zebraing.
One small horse thing with more consonants in its name than vowels -- standing
One gorilla -- sitting
One smaller reddish monkey -- examining his knee
One baby panda -- sleeping.
Tuna Clan -- watching one baby panda -- sleeping.

Royal Flush

On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me,
A heated seat upon which I could pee!

Travels With Tuna -- Day The First
Today the Tuna clan jumped in the car to visit with BabyBrotherTuna and family. As nice as it is to see Mr. and Mrs. BBTuna, it would most come as no surprise that once the grownup hugs were exchanged we were all, "It's so great to see you again. NOW WHERE IS THE BABY?"

The baby was produced and we spent some time visiting and smooching and rolling around on the floor playing with toys. Presents were exchanged, and BabyTuna made sure to personally taste-test everything within arms reach.

After awhile, I excused myself to use the facilities. At the first mention of "bathroom" my brother got very wide-eyed. "Ohhhhh!" He said excitedly. "Are you ready? Are you ready for the best thing ever?"

I had no idea what he was talking about.

So he takes me toward the bathroom, which I thought was strange because I knew where it was and didn't really feel as if I needed an escort. "It's the greatest thing ever!" He said.

"What are you talking about?"

He proceeded to tell me all about his new acquisition. I'm not sure if I can even come close to describing this, so suffice it to say, if your toilet is the CPU, he got a...peripheral. It was kind of a multi-function bidet deal, with more bells and whistles than High Church on Sunday. He gave me a guided tour of all the features and their corresponding buttons on the wall-mounted touch pad. "Here is wash, and here is soft wash, and you can dry, and you can adjust the pressure, and the seat is heated...."

I must admit I was a bit embarrassed. "I just have to go," I said. "You know, just regular go."

"That's ok!" He said cheerily. "It still flushes the same. Have fun!"

And off he went.

I stared at the mecha-porcelain deity and sat down. OH. MY. GOD. It was cushy and it was warm. If loving this was wrong, I didn't want to be right. Staring at the buttons on the wall, I felt like Alice in Wonderland. Which one should I try first? I settled on wash.

Woah.

Then I tried soft wash.

Woah.

(I wondered if it did wax too)

I went for the hat-trick and hit the dry button.

Woah.

I finally emerged, refreshed, a little embarrassed and a lot less innocent than when I went in.

"Nice, huh?" Asked my brother.

Wide-eyed, I nodded, secretly calculating when we'd be visiting again.
"I feel like I should leave some money on the night stand."

Royal Flush

On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me,
A heated seat upon which I could pee!

Travels With Tuna -- Day The First
Today the Tuna clan jumped in the car to visit with BabyBrotherTuna and family. As nice as it is to see Mr. and Mrs. BBTuna, it would most come as no surprise that once the grownup hugs were exchanged we were all, "It's so great to see you again. NOW WHERE IS THE BABY?"

The baby was produced and we spent some time visiting and smooching and rolling around on the floor playing with toys. Presents were exchanged, and BabyTuna made sure to personally taste-test everything within arms reach.

After awhile, I excused myself to use the facilities. At the first mention of "bathroom" my brother got very wide-eyed. "Ohhhhh!" He said excitedly. "Are you ready? Are you ready for the best thing ever?"

I had no idea what he was talking about.

So he takes me toward the bathroom, which I thought was strange because I knew where it was and didn't really feel as if I needed an escort. "It's the greatest thing ever!" He said.

"What are you talking about?"

He proceeded to tell me all about his new acquisition. I'm not sure if I can even come close to describing this, so suffice it to say, if your toilet is the CPU, he got a...peripheral. It was kind of a multi-function bidet deal, with more bells and whistles than High Church on Sunday. He gave me a guided tour of all the features and their corresponding buttons on the wall-mounted touch pad. "Here is wash, and here is soft wash, and you can dry, and you can adjust the pressure, and the seat is heated...."

I must admit I was a bit embarrassed. "I just have to go," I said. "You know, just regular go."

"That's ok!" He said cheerily. "It still flushes the same. Have fun!"

And off he went.

I stared at the mecha-porcelain deity and sat down. OH. MY. GOD. It was cushy and it was warm. If loving this was wrong, I didn't want to be right. Staring at the buttons on the wall, I felt like Alice in Wonderland. Which one should I try first? I settled on wash.

Woah.

Then I tried soft wash.

Woah.

(I wondered if it did wax too)

I went for the hat-trick and hit the dry button.

Woah.

I finally emerged, refreshed, a little embarrassed and a lot less innocent than when I went in.

"Nice, huh?" Asked my brother.

Wide-eyed, I nodded, secretly calculating when we'd be visiting again.
"I feel like I should leave some money on the night stand."

Why Pay More?

In my little world, there is nothing quite so embarrassing as being one of those "early bird" shoppers. For those of you who may live and die by the 6am call of the cash register, more power to you. But for me, I'm content to pay a few extra bucks later and stay in bed until Katie, Matt, Ann and Al have given me the 15 minute lowdown.

So today, at 5:55 am, the day after Christmas, with all its day after Christmas sales, where was I? You guessed it. I was standing outside the local grocery-mart-arama, shivering, with about 20 other insane people early bird shoppers because one of my Christmas Day not so Wise Men feats included frying the portable DVD player, and today was spend twelve hours in the car driving with everybody else in the world day.

And the eleventh commandment, for those who might not know is, Thou shalt not drive for 12 hours without copious electronic diversions. Otherwise, it's "Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?" on permanent tape loop, which gets old after the first hour or two. At least it did when TinyTuna was three.

At 6am prompt they unlocked the doors of the local grocery-mart-arama. This is the only day in the entire year when this is done, since Christmas is the only day the store is closed. And in marched: me, the portable DVD slayer, and a bunch of old people who (seriously, they said this) had nothing else to do, so they thought they'd walk around the grocery store for awhile.

If only I had that much nothing to do...

I found the DVD players, but none had a Special Markdown Price for those who celebrate Baby Jesus' birthday by trying to set their house on fire tags. After speaking to no less than 5 bleary-eyed associates, we found someone with the holy keys to the display case, nabbed a DVD player, checked the price, and out I went.

The rest of the day was fairly uneventful, as we drove through grey Michigan, grey Ohio and grey Pennsylvania. Just when we were starting to feel pretty smug in the travelling department, the weather in Pennsylvania went from "isn't the snow on the trees pretty?" to "hrm, it's getting hard to see the trees" to "wow, it's getting kind of foggy" to "AIEEEE! WHERE WAS THE TRUCK THAT WAS 10 FEET IN FRONT OF ME?"

You may think your trip is going well, but I'm here to tell you, the Pennsylvania turnpike is the great equalizer.

And now we are here, south of the Mason-Dixon line, ready for some fun and relaxation Maryland style. As long as I don't have to drive Pennsylvania for a few days, or shop at 6am, things are looking mighty fine.

Y'all.

Why Pay More?

In my little world, there is nothing quite so embarrassing as being one of those "early bird" shoppers. For those of you who may live and die by the 6am call of the cash register, more power to you. But for me, I'm content to pay a few extra bucks later and stay in bed until Katie, Matt, Ann and Al have given me the 15 minute lowdown.

So today, at 5:55 am, the day after Christmas, with all its day after Christmas sales, where was I? You guessed it. I was standing outside the local grocery-mart-arama, shivering, with about 20 other insane people early bird shoppers because one of my Christmas Day not so Wise Men feats included frying the portable DVD player, and today was spend twelve hours in the car driving with everybody else in the world day.

And the eleventh commandment, for those who might not know is, Thou shalt not drive for 12 hours without copious electronic diversions. Otherwise, it's "Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?" on permanent tape loop, which gets old after the first hour or two. At least it did when TinyTuna was three.

At 6am prompt they unlocked the doors of the local grocery-mart-arama. This is the only day in the entire year when this is done, since Christmas is the only day the store is closed. And in marched: me, the portable DVD slayer, and a bunch of old people who (seriously, they said this) had nothing else to do, so they thought they'd walk around the grocery store for awhile.

If only I had that much nothing to do...

I found the DVD players, but none had a Special Markdown Price for those who celebrate Baby Jesus' birthday by trying to set their house on fire tags. After speaking to no less than 5 bleary-eyed associates, we found someone with the holy keys to the display case, nabbed a DVD player, checked the price, and out I went.

The rest of the day was fairly uneventful, as we drove through grey Michigan, grey Ohio and grey Pennsylvania. Just when we were starting to feel pretty smug in the travelling department, the weather in Pennsylvania went from "isn't the snow on the trees pretty?" to "hrm, it's getting hard to see the trees" to "wow, it's getting kind of foggy" to "AIEEEE! WHERE WAS THE TRUCK THAT WAS 10 FEET IN FRONT OF ME?"

You may think your trip is going well, but I'm here to tell you, the Pennsylvania turnpike is the great equalizer.

And now we are here, south of the Mason-Dixon line, ready for some fun and relaxation Maryland style. As long as I don't have to drive Pennsylvania for a few days, or shop at 6am, things are looking mighty fine.

Y'all.

Great Expectations

It's hard to live up to an impossibly idyllic rendition of The Family Christmas. A thousand unknowns can torpedo any get together, and when you mix Christmas cookies, toys and really tired children, you can be sure there will be tears in under an hour.

This year, I'm happy to report, the kids did us proud. They behaved. They played well together. They said please and thank you. They seemed really happy with all their presents, and there was no shouting, crying or pouting, despite the fact that the 2006 naughty and nice list is now fully into play.

Food was good. Family was good. Kids were good. The various fluffy beasts were good. Presents were good. Even the holiday aftermath mess was tolerable, which is saying a lot.

Of course, today was only Phase A. Tomorrow begins Phase B, which involves the loser having to drive through all of Ohio, dealing with the Pennsylvania toll roads and the infamous Washington D.C. traffic. It might not sound like any fun at all, but the thought of ten hours in the car with no other messes or deadlines staring at me sounds like heaven on earth to this loser.

Great Expectations

It's hard to live up to an impossibly idyllic rendition of The Family Christmas. A thousand unknowns can torpedo any get together, and when you mix Christmas cookies, toys and really tired children, you can be sure there will be tears in under an hour.

This year, I'm happy to report, the kids did us proud. They behaved. They played well together. They said please and thank you. They seemed really happy with all their presents, and there was no shouting, crying or pouting, despite the fact that the 2006 naughty and nice list is now fully into play.

Food was good. Family was good. Kids were good. The various fluffy beasts were good. Presents were good. Even the holiday aftermath mess was tolerable, which is saying a lot.

Of course, today was only Phase A. Tomorrow begins Phase B, which involves the loser having to drive through all of Ohio, dealing with the Pennsylvania toll roads and the infamous Washington D.C. traffic. It might not sound like any fun at all, but the thought of ten hours in the car with no other messes or deadlines staring at me sounds like heaven on earth to this loser.

Twinkle Twinkle

It should come as no surprise to anyone that TinyTuna had a plan. She had decided that Christmas Eve dinner should be a candlelight affair -- and by candlelight, I mean ONLY candlelight allowed. TinyTuna, GramTuna and I were to eat together, basking in the glow of hundreds of candles plus one well-lit Christmas Tree, and enjoy a special time together.

I'm sorry to say, I probably rolled my eyes when she wasn't looking.

TinyTuna loves the spectacle seen through the eyes of Norman Rockwell and tied up with one hundred Martha Stewart bows. I can only aspire to her elaborate dreams, because even when her idea of a summer afternoon respite includes a lazy Susan crammed with yogurt, raisins, Skittles, an old banana, popsicles, microwave popcorn, bread and a center compartment overflowing with butter, at least she had a plan and went to the trouble to see it through.

So, despite the private eyerolling deep in my soul, I said OK, while secretly hoping she'd forget all about it.

I had no idea how we were going to pull this off. My house is a holiday themed wreck, with everything all over everywhere, including my 32-inch Toshiba (it was FREE!) that continues to sit on the floor (I really should throw some tinsel on it or something). GramTuna's house wasn't much better, since every flat surface has become the Christmas Cookie Corral; something I cannot do now that I have hungry, greedy and evil furry toddlers. I'm not sure they'd eat the cookies, but I bet they'd grab a bunch and play with them.

After we got home tonight from Church the First (4pm service), TinyTuna went to work to prepare the way of the candlelight dinner. She cleaned up the table and made my crooked piles straight. She was not to be deterred. Like it or not, we WERE going to go through with this.

Surprisingly, though, things started to pick up quickly and we grabbed as many candles and votives as we could find and started to light them. Between the candles and the colorful tree, I had to admit that she was right: it really was a beautiful, special setting. I would have never thought it would have worked, but she believed in it all along.

Tonight and tomorrow and hopefully many tomorrows to come, my wish is to remember the light. It doesn't matter much if you celebrate Christmas or Hanukkah or Kwanzaa or Solstice or something else or nothing at all. It doesn't have to be about a deity. The common theme is recognizing the difficulties and darkness in our existences, and then looking towards the light, be it physical or spiritual. Each of us need to find those things that heal us, inspire us and uplift us. As a world community we understand hardships and sadly, the difficulties of our existence will never be entirely gone. But with a light, be it one candle or one hundred, there is comfort and hope during the darkest of times.

I know it's hard to believe. I didn't at first. But TinyTuna did, and showed us all. One candle at a time.



Merry Christmas.

Twinkle Twinkle

It should come as no surprise to anyone that TinyTuna had a plan. She had decided that Christmas Eve dinner should be a candlelight affair -- and by candlelight, I mean ONLY candlelight allowed. TinyTuna, GramTuna and I were to eat together, basking in the glow of hundreds of candles plus one well-lit Christmas Tree, and enjoy a special time together.

I'm sorry to say, I probably rolled my eyes when she wasn't looking.

TinyTuna loves the spectacle seen through the eyes of Norman Rockwell and tied up with one hundred Martha Stewart bows. I can only aspire to her elaborate dreams, because even when her idea of a summer afternoon respite includes a lazy Susan crammed with yogurt, raisins, Skittles, an old banana, popsicles, microwave popcorn, bread and a center compartment overflowing with butter, at least she had a plan and went to the trouble to see it through.

So, despite the private eyerolling deep in my soul, I said OK, while secretly hoping she'd forget all about it.

I had no idea how we were going to pull this off. My house is a holiday themed wreck, with everything all over everywhere, including my 32-inch Toshiba (it was FREE!) that continues to sit on the floor (I really should throw some tinsel on it or something). GramTuna's house wasn't much better, since every flat surface has become the Christmas Cookie Corral; something I cannot do now that I have hungry, greedy and evil furry toddlers. I'm not sure they'd eat the cookies, but I bet they'd grab a bunch and play with them.

After we got home tonight from Church the First (4pm service), TinyTuna went to work to prepare the way of the candlelight dinner. She cleaned up the table and made my crooked piles straight. She was not to be deterred. Like it or not, we WERE going to go through with this.

Surprisingly, though, things started to pick up quickly and we grabbed as many candles and votives as we could find and started to light them. Between the candles and the colorful tree, I had to admit that she was right: it really was a beautiful, special setting. I would have never thought it would have worked, but she believed in it all along.

Tonight and tomorrow and hopefully many tomorrows to come, my wish is to remember the light. It doesn't matter much if you celebrate Christmas or Hanukkah or Kwanzaa or Solstice or something else or nothing at all. It doesn't have to be about a deity. The common theme is recognizing the difficulties and darkness in our existences, and then looking towards the light, be it physical or spiritual. Each of us need to find those things that heal us, inspire us and uplift us. As a world community we understand hardships and sadly, the difficulties of our existence will never be entirely gone. But with a light, be it one candle or one hundred, there is comfort and hope during the darkest of times.

I know it's hard to believe. I didn't at first. But TinyTuna did, and showed us all. One candle at a time.



Merry Christmas.