life according to me

Category: Nonsense

Good Old Days?
One way I can tell the economy is rotten is by the increase in spam emails I’ve been getting. A portion of each morning is spent deleting yet another “You, too, can make money at home” message or invitation to “join me in getting out of debt.” Most are automatically caught as junk and deleted, but a few make it through.

Occasionally someone I know will actually send me an email, and if it’s my mother or her sister, it’s one of those feel good messages with the giant multi-colored text. You know, in case someone doesn’t know where her reading glasses are, she’ll be able to read it from a 15-foot distance. Ironically, both of those factors cause me not to want to read the emails, but I did this morning, shaking my head the entire time I was reading. I know it’s meant to be — well, I’m not sure. Boastful? Condescending? Perhaps sarcastic? Maybe funny. Hmmm…

Maybe you’ve seen it:

The idea of a parent bailing us…
CONGRATULATIONS TO ALL THE KIDS WHO WERE BORN IN THE 1920’s, 30’s 40’s, 50’s, 60’s and 70’s !!
First, we survived being born to mothers who carried us and lived in houses made of asbestos.
They took aspirin, ate blue cheese, tuna from a can, and didn’t get tested for diabetes or cervical cancer.
Then after that trauma, our baby cribs were covered with bright colored lead-based paints.
We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, doors or cabinets and when we rode our bikes, we had no helmets or shoes, not to mention, the risks some of us took hitchhiking.
As children, we would ride in cars with no seat belts or air bags.
Riding in the back of a Ute on a warm day was always a special treat.
We drank water from the garden hose and NOT from a bottle.
Take away food was limited to fish and chips, no pizza shops, McDonalds, KFC, Subway or Red Rooster.
Even though all the shops closed at 6.00pm and didn’t open on the weekends, somehow we didn’t starve to death!
We shared one soft drink with four friends, from one bottle and NO ONE actually died from this.
We could collect old drink bottles and cash them in at the corner store and buy Fruit Tingles and some fire crackers to blow up frogs and lizards with.
We ate cupcakes, white bread and real butter and drank soft drinks with sugar in it, but we weren’t overweight because……
WE WERE ALWAYS OUTSIDE PLAYING!!
We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back when the streetlights came on.
No one was able to reach us all day. And we were O.K.
We would spend hours building our go-carts out of scraps and then ride down the hill, only to find out we forgot the brakes. We built tree houses and cubby houses and played in creek beds with matchbox cars.
We did not have Playstations, Nintendo’s, X-boxes, no video games at all, no 99 channels on cable, no video tape or DVD movies, nosurround sound, no mobile phones, no personal computers, no Internet or Internet chat rooms……….WE HAD FRIENDS and we went outside and found them!
We fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and teeth and there were no Lawsuits from these accidents.
Only girls had pierced ears!
We ate worms and mud pies made from dirt, and the worms did not live in us forever.
You could only buy Easter Eggs and Hot Cross buns at Easter time…….no really!
We were given BB guns and sling shots for our 10th birthdays,
We drank milk laced with Strontium 90 from cows that had eaten grass covered in nuclear fallout from the atomic testing at Maralinga in 1956.
We rode bikes or walked to a friend’s house and knocked on the door or rang the bell, or just yelled for them!
Mum didn’t have to go to work to help dad make ends meet!
Footy had tryouts and not everyone made the team. Those who didn’t had to learn to deal with disappointment. Imagine that!!
Our teachers used to belt us with big sticks and leather straps and bullies always ruled the playground at school.
The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke the law was unheard of. They actually sided with the law!
Our parents got married before they had children and didn’t invent stupid names for their kids like ‘Kiora’ and ‘Blade’…..
This generation has produced some of the best risk-takers, problem solvers and inventors ever!
The past 70 years have been an explosion of innovation and new ideas.
We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and we learned
HOW TO DEAL WITH IT ALL!
And YOU are one of them!
CONGRATULATIONS!
You might want to share this with others who have had the luck to grow up as kids, before the lawyers and the government regulated our lives for our own good.
And while you are at it, forward it to your kids so they will know how brave their parents were.

Kind of makes you want to run through the house with scissors, doesn’t it?!

Outside of this giving me a few interesting memories about my own childhood and that of my sons, being the born party pooper I am, I couldn’t help but think of a few other things as well.
- Yes, many of us did grow up in houses with asbestos — right up until it was scraped off the ceiling about 10 years ago — well past my childhood. No men in white suits showed up to remove it. My mother and my oldest son used spray bottles and sheets of plastic, scraping it off with wide spatulas. My oldest son has never been able to breathe to begin with, so Hell. Why not take on this little Do-It-Yourself project? Just because something was tolerated in the past doesn’t make it appropriate to ignore it today.
- On the lead-based paint? Absolutely many people survived — most noticeably the person who wrote this email. But those who happened to have their cribs positioned near windows that could be chewed on when teething didn’t quite survive the same way. They ended up with permanent brain damage and have needed medical attention, and special assistance in school to the tune of millions and millions of tax payer dollars. They never had a chance, and their parents didn’t know, because lead-based paint is what was used. You could call Oliver Stone to see if he has a film in the works about a government conspiracy on this…
- Childproof caps were definitely a horrible thing to inflict upon the unsuspecting public. But I’m thinking it may have been necessary since the “If you touch this medicine, I’ll knock the shit out of you” threat to children had seen better days. Anyone who’s been beat by a parent more than once will confirm this.
- Seatbelts? Well, just go back up to the lead-based paint issue. If you survive a car crash but have injuries so severe that long-term medical care is required, ultimately the tax payer is paying the bill to keep you alive. (Just think about all those “child-proof” caps you’ll have to deal with.) And if you survived that car crash even though you didn’t have a seat belt on, I’m thinking you should have to foot the bill for your own care. I’m tired of paying for my health care AND everyone else’s. How hard is it to just buckle the damn thing?
- The reason there were no lawsuits from injuries caused from falling out of trees or needing stitches because the neighbor’s kid ran over you with a bike is because 1) there weren’t very many lawyers. College was something most couldn’t afford — hence, fewer lawyers; and 2) People couldn’t afford lawsuits even if they realized that sometimes the losers in the world DO need to be accountable for their actions. The tree I was in and fell out of when I was 8 was on private property. I was trespassing and stealing fruit. If anyone needed a lawyer, it was the farmer.
- Yes, I had a teacher who had a paddle and used it. She was pissed because I wouldn’t hold hands with a boy during a game, so she lifted my dress (ahhh…remember when girls had to wear dresses to school? So lovely to have to tolerate that while playing on the monkey bars…) and paddled my butt in front of the entire class. Should kids today have to tolerate that to grow up and say, “Look at me! I survived a teacher who whacked me! Should any kid have to deal with a bully anywhere? At some point, just sucking it up in those situations is weak. Teaching kids how to stand up for themselves and to know what’s okay, and what isn’t matters. Of course, today, bullies often have guns, don’t they?
- Drink milk with Strontium 90? And survive? Evidently, the concentration is key to whether you end up with bone cancer, cancer of the soft tissues surrounding the bone, or leukemia. It doesn’t just come from cows grazing in a field, it’s connected with weapons testing, which has decreased tremendously since the government was forced to realize that it was affecting people’s health. You know, like benzene in drinking water. Scary stuff. And sure. I’m totally angry that the government has regulated this out of my environment. Not.
- “Mum” may not have to go to work to help Dad make ends meet today, either. In fact, “Mum” may have a college degree, and realize that working all day, and taking care of her house and family after she gets home is like having two jobs for less than what Dad earns, so how stupid is that? “Mum” can now choose to stay at home to raise her children instead of paying the childcare provider her entire salary AND have a title: SAHM. Some of us refuse to call ourselves anything of that nature, however.
- Yes, the “Good Old Days” are gone, aren’t they? Just think. Without our beloved laptops, computers, Macs, PCs or however you lovingly refer to them, we wouldn’t be able to write and send emails such as the one above, would we? We’d actually be getting the work done that our employers pay us to do! What an interesting concept.
I could keep going, but this is way past the length all those You Too Can Make Money At Home Blogging gurus mention. God forbid that whatever is on my mind exceeds a few paragraphs.

Goodness. What a snarky woman I am today.

I’ll write about something pleasant next time, or just avoid reading those emails.
April 7, 2009
Fooled

Do you ever have days where you’re up early and feel as if you can do just about anything? That was me today with the sun not more than a glow behind the mountains and everyone still fast asleep. But that was three hours ago, and all I’ve accomplished is consume two cups of a very dark Brazilian coffee I found at a local Latin market, and a rather large bowl of Wheeties.

I’ve flitted from the website of a cooking group I belong to expecting to see this month’s challenge posted (it wasn’t…) to a photography site where I continue to read about how to improve the lighting in my photos and how to build my own lightbox, wondering if any of the boxes in our garage are large enough to work so I don’t have to get in the car before it’s absolutely necessary today.

I gaze through the stats on my food blog and wonder how it’s possible for the number of page views its recorded are possible since my last check and where they’re coming from. That takes me to who is so I can research an IP address even though I know that never really tells me anything helpful.

All the while, I’m making a mental list of what I’ll accomplish today and the time is steadily ticking. Always ticking. And to make matters worse, I’ve activated the voice on my Mac to let me know the time on the hour and half hour because I lose track of it so often now, engrossed in too many things all at one time, wanting to do them all, and able to finish only one or two. It’s truly annoying.

I’ve wasted at least a half hour searching for an article I saved not too long ago knowing I had something to say about it and now can’t find it. It’s no wonder since I bookmark extensively using delicious, Evernote, and Firefox. I’ve searched, and it’s just not there. So then the wind goes out of my sails, and I scan my sidebar to visit someone — anyone — arriving there and marveling not only over their writing, but the lots and lots of people who comment there. I even visit some of the commentors, thinking about the little community this person has built. Or is it acquired? No matter. It exists. People take the time to stop and say something instead of, “Nice.” or “Looks terrific.”

I remember those days.

It’s what I get for defecting almost permanently to foodland.

Goodness. I’m here so infrequently now I even get spam telling me they can’t figure out my posting schedule. How hilarious is that? Um, can you tell us what your posting schedule is so we can spam you more than we already do? kthxbai.

It’s almost 10 now, and so I must make some decisions about this chilly, grey….wait.

It’s April Fools Day!

Clearly, the joke is on me.

Thinking I’d actually accomplish something.

Right.

April 1, 2009
Back to School: Ho Hum

The long Labor Day weekend always marks the official end of summer here, with people heading to the beach one last time. And just like that, it’s over.

The three days yawned on for what seemed like five with the three of us taking it easy. Other than spending Saturday at the horse races with the RTR and a cousin (who decided that picking horses is a lot more challenging than playing Texas Hold’em), we made like house potatoes. I put off the perfunctory school shopping until yesterday when we hit the sales Macy’s advertises so well, and then doubt if we actually picked up anything on sale. Funny how that works, isn’t it? The total time to choose and try on four shirts and three pairs of shorts was less than waiting in line to pay for those school clothes. Nice. Well, the wait time — not so much the price tag.

Yes, summer is definitely over.

There’s more traffic in the morning going past our house and with us in it, the school carpool started up again. Same kids, new clothes, different school year. Talk of how it feels on the first day, the first class, and how by the second day, it’s all old news. By the time we pulled up to the curb, they were talking about when the first three-day weekend would be, then the week off for Thanksgiving. Then the Christmas break.

It was pretty funny, actually, because I know that some teachers were most likely feeling the same way. In fact, during my second student teaching assignment, on the first day of school, I overheard a teacher in the bathroom stall next to mine, talking to a colleague about how many days were left until Veteran’s Day.

So in celebration of the first day of school, I’ll pass along to you something I was sent in an email yesterday. Although when I read it, I knew there could be no way it was true (see this at Snopes), I know from experience that the feeling behind it can, for some who work in schools, definitely be true. Seriously. Let’s face it — kids have to go to school, kids have parents, and those parents aren’t always delightful humans to work with. Although I have some interesting stories of my own about working with parents, the stories I have about working with teachers are just as interesting.

People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones…

SCHOOL ANSWERING MACHINE

This is hilarious – no wonder some people were offended! This is the message that the Pacific Palisades High School California staff voted unanimously to record on their school telephone answering machine.

This is the actual answering machine message for the school. This came about because they implemented a policy requiring students and parents to be responsible for their children’s absences and missing homework.

The school and teachers are being sued by parents who want their children’s failing grades changed to passing grades – even though those children were absent 15-30 times during the semester and did not complete enough school work to pass their classes.

The outgoing message:

Hello! You have reached the automated answering service of your school. In order to assist you in connecting to the right staff member, please listen to all the options before making a selection:

To lie about why your child is absent – Press 1

To make excuses for why your child did not do his work -Press 2

To complain about what we do – Press 3

To swear at staff members – Press 4

To ask why you didn’t get information that was already enclosed in your newsletter and several flyers mailed to you – Press 5

If you want us to raise your child – Press 6

If you want to reach out and touch, slap or hit someone – Press 7

To request another teacher, for the third time this year – Press 8

To complain about bus transportation – Press 9

To complain about school lunches – Press 0

If you realize this is the real world and your child must be accountable and responsible for his/her own behavior, class work, homework and that it’s not the teachers’ fault for your child’s lack of effort: Hang up and have a nice day!

If you want this in Spanish, move to a country that speaks it.

(The last line wasn’t in the piece I linked from Snopes, so someone must have added it as it made its way through the email highway. I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t get political today, so I’ll just leave it there like an elephant in the livingroom.)

Ah, yes. Happy Back to School.

September 2, 2008
Top Ten Wordless Wednesday Words
My top ten words for this Nearly Wordless Wednesday — not to be confused with Wordless Wednesday since I’m incapable of being wordless on any day of the week — are (you know, in case you were wondering, and waiting, and thinking perhaps that you, too, might feel some ridiculous remote affinity to me):
1. mundane – which is rude since this is not Monday, which is usually mundane, but wasn’t this week. Mundane even sounds mundane.
2. lackluster – like an old piece of silver you might find in a box of baubles saved for reasons you’ve forgotten but which remind you of when you saved them. It must have been important because they were shiny once upon a time, like a lot of things.
3. preoccupied — but not “in a brown study” as some nutjobs might be wont to describe it — as in, “She was preoccupied with the concept of nothingness and its effect on boredom during the Dog Days of Summer, which were missed, and so now are being rewound and reviewed in case she missed anything.”
4. morose — which sort of reminds me of moron or maroon, which makes me think of Bugs Bunny who is never morose.
5. doldrums — which is far more interesting than “blah” since it actually sounds like it exists somewhere physically, as a suburb might, or a shopping mall, which means you might be able to go there and find something interesting, unless its residents were blah, and whom you’d not want to spend time with since you already find your own self, well, blah.
6. humdrum — like sitting on a park bench staring at nothing and finding it interesting since it passes the time, but is not in anyway something you could do while in the doldrums since “being humdrum in the doldrums” would attract the attention of others such as shadow puppets.
7. quotidian — which is nothing like it sounds, unless you’ve been forced to take a Latin class by your parents who swear it will make you a better writer (Um, right.) because you’d know that quotidian has to do with repetitive daily actions, which can be mundane, and having nothing to do with something unexpected or surprising, as in winning the Lotto, which would never be quotidian.
8. pedestrian — which is, when you think of it, only a person walking, but can also be lacking inspiration. So picture a humdrum person in the doldrums walking across the same street to get to the same bus stop to go to the same job to earn the same paycheck to pay the same bills at the same desk at the same time every month. You know, a pedestrian pedestrian.
9. ho-hum — as in John McCain. As in plain baloney on Wonder Bread. As in this post.
10. meh — as in, “I feel like pwning some noobs since it would be way more interesting than sitting here and trying to imitate the writing style of Dave Eggers in A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius. Wait. Maybe it’s A Staggering Work of Heartbreaking Genius — which is anything but meh. Like me.
p.s. Gratuitous Wordless Wednesday Photo courtest of my mother who bought this card for my middle son’s recent birthday.
August 20, 2008
Does My Rear Look Big Like This?

The Yackstar has to be nearly twelve. I should know, but I don’t, and each time I wonder, I have to count. That wouldn’t be easy either, but the day I use is the one I met with the RTR’s principal. He was going to be in the first grade, and I was going to enroll him in our neighborhood school. It was April Fool’s Day and we’d just had to put our dear old cat Holis down.

You don’t forget things like that.

Her name isn’t really the Yackstar. It’s Precious, but you’d never know that because in much the same way that our dog’s name changes, hers does as well. But I only really called her the Yackstar when I was referring to her and her proclivity for yacking on the rug near the laundry room, which is now beyond all possible methods of repair.

Right now, I call her Fresh Nuts. Yes, I know she’s a female, and no, she’s not crazy. It’s more of a deriviative: Precious, Freshness, Fresh Nuts.

Get it?

Probably not, but I think it’s hilarious.

But when she’s finally decided to venture outside in what seems like weeks, and then decides to sneak into the cranky neighbor’s yard, and then yeowl loudly about not being able to figure out how to get back into our patio, I don’t think it’s hilarious at all.

There’s no way I’m hissing, “Here Fresh Nuts! Here, kittakittakitta. Heeeeeeeerrrrrrreeeeeee Fresh Nuts!” No. I have to use her proper name so when the cranky neighbor slams not one, but two of his windows at 11:30pm even though I’m barely making a sound, he won’t think I’m being derogatory.

She slept outside all night, and when I hissed over at her the next morning, she ran from the bushes sporting spider webs and dried leaves, yeowling to get through the fence. Even the guaranteed to get her complete and undivided attention sound of a catfood can being tantilizingly opened and the droolworthy aroma of Friskies Turkey & cheese Dinner In Gravy waved under her nose couldn’t inspire her to remember how to squeeze through the fence.

So I left her there.

Her appetite must have encouraged her to remember.

August 13, 2008
Yeah? So — what of it?

Last week, one of the bloggers I’ve come across in foodland wrote a post inquiring about what readers like or don’t like in a blog. Although I always enjoy this particular person’s posts because she’s extremely smart, very opinionated, and an excellent writer, they’re unusual in that they aren’t always about recipes and food porn shots.

No, not THAT kind of food porn. This kind.

She attracts tons of comments, also unusual for much of foodland. No, not the sheer quantity, which is quite impressive, but the quality. Nearly every commenter has something substantive to say about whatever she has written.

I know I’ve been hooked more than once to chime in — whether it’s in response to what she has written, or to what one of the commentators has mentioned. And although I’ve taken liberties before with her generous space (she allows 3000 character comments…whoa!) to respond in a near post, I’ve waited on this one, just to see if the slow burn that I developed reading that day would dissipate.

Nope.

Maybe it’s because everyone has an opinion and that’s annoying. No, that wouldn’t work since I’m the leader of the pack.

Or, it could be that a blog is such a personal thing as compared to a magazine, or a newspaper, and, well, it’s free. So as much as we all wonder at times who reads our blathering and who doesn’t (or why), it isn’t like we’ll go out of business and stop the presses if no one reads. We just hobble pathetically along, right? Uh-huh. Whatever.

I think my favorite comment had to do with “lengthy blog posts” which is probably why I’m still simmering.

When have I NOT done a lengthy post? Excuse the hell out of me, but Hell would freeze over first. I found it quite ironic, since the person making the comment was doing so on a blog that publishes lengthy posts. Excellent posts, mind you, but lengthy. Glad I’m in such good company. In much the same way that there are political cartoonists who turn huge issues into a few words and an image, some choose to write, far too many talk whether anyone is listening or not, and some joke. I’d rather not read blogs that only publish one short silly post after another. What’s the point? They didn’t invest any kind of thought, so why should I? *Tsk, tsk. Cranky, aren’t we?*

A few comments had to do with changing things on the blog. They were concerned that something would change.

News Flash. Things Change. You know, like the planet? Or haven’t you noticed? Half the fun of having a blog is to CHANGE things. What? It’s difficult to read the words and the thinking behind the words if the font changes? Or the header? Or the widgets…wait, I need to fan myself…

Some of the commenters groused about music players on blogs — you know, where you open a blog and the author has a favorite piece playing?

I’m thinking that it’s not TOO CHALLENGING to lower the volume if you choose not to listen. But perhaps for those individuals, finding the volume button is.

Even better? Some mentioned that since they read blogs while at work, the players were on loud and that others might hear.

WAIT. Let me get this straight. A person is reading blogs at work instead of working, but she wants YOU to not have a music player on your blog so HER coworkers can’t hear it... Okay, the line forms to the left for egotistical maniacs. Seriously.

Another chimer-inner and subsequent dittoers voiced their complaints about blogs and awards. That they’re tiresome. That they know the only reason people give out awards is to get credit for links.

Actually, at least from my speck of perspective, when I pass on an award that someone has given me, it’s because I believe that person deserves it. Go back to the point about investing time in reading blogs. When you do that, you can actually say thanks to someone else, and recognize that effort in a meaningful way. Oh, but wait. That would be a long, involved post, wouldn’t it? And you’d actually have to be able to say why you enjoyed someone’s blog for a reason other than it’s short. But what do I know?

This one’s the doozie. Some mentioned that the only time people comment on their blog is after they’ve posted, and only because they want that individual to come comment on theirs.

Huh? You’ve got to be kidding. And then some people defended themselves over this crap, like they actually needed to dignify it with any kind of response other than bull*hit. So let’s see. I spend my time writing which is no small investment of time, and then my reward is to visit those I enjoy reading AND look around for new ones, and that’s categorized as fishing for comments? Bear in mind this is BEFORE I do my housework for gawdsakes. What if I read other’s blogs first? Wait. I do my email first, and that actually takes a while. So if I read blogs first, and commented — which I almost always take the time to do — I’d never get around to posting. Who are these people and why are they so whiney?

Last, but not least. Advertisements. I bet you knew this was coming? Several people mentioned the ads and how annoying they are.

Fine. Ever looked at a magazine? Newspaper? Watch television? I know. I don’t like commercials, either, which is why TiVo exists, or why I wait to go to the bathroom on the commercials — you know, to piss off the advertisers. Except for Target. I love their ads. Where was I? Oh yes, advertisements on blogs. Guess what? Don’t pay attention to them then. It’s really not that difficult. Sure, if a site has ten pop-ups then it’s a problem, but you should have figured out how to block those a long time ago. Tune into this Bat Channel, yanno? As for the sites that run lots of those square tech ads? Hell. Click on them once in a while. They actually lead to sites that have good information if that’s what you’re looking for. It’s not like some boogie man will pop out and bite your head off. But now that I’m thinking of it, that’s not a bad idea. At least it would spare us the inane comments.

And while I’m on the subject…my ads pay for my hosting service. Would you bend over and pick up that check if it blew up against your shoe? Now it would be swell if they paid for all the time I spent writing and managing, cooking, shooting, and editing. But it doesn’t. The MoH pays for that, and I’m sure he’s wishing I’d get off my butt and actually write something that involved an advance and some sales.

But he’s a very patient man.

So, what’s your take on all of this hooplah? I’m being overly sensitive, right? I should just shut my mouth and get back to work?

Pass you a slice of that cake?

Hell, I’m relieved none of them said they were sick of people who plastered stoopid photos of themselves all over their blogs all the time.

Heh.

August 12, 2008
That Summer Feeling

It’s the last day of school and because 99.9% of us have spent time in a seat in a classroom counting the days and minutes and seconds until we could say, “It’s the last day of school!” we know it’s a special day.

And then there’s another portion of us who stood in that classroom in front of those kids, and later, in front of those teachers, and thought the very same thing. This particular experience gave new meaning to the phrase, barely contain my glee…

Okay, so for some — those of us who still have children at home — this day conjures conflicting emotions:

A. You’re ecstatic that you no longer have to get up at 6:30 (or even 6:57) for your 7am car pool responsibilities.

B. You’re in a quandry because your almost 16-year-old son will be home every single day for 10 weeks (too old for camp, not able to attend summer school to make up crappy grades in Spanish and Algebra II because his perfectly delightful and generous but most likely too indulgent parents are taking him to Italy) attempting to put a pet rock to shame with inactivity and behaving quite charmingly the entire time.

A. You’re seriously glad that you no longer have even more children — little ones — at home who now need you to be the summer tour director, organize appropriate television viewing time, snack time, nap time, play group time, reading time, craft time, and errand-running-time with said children in tow which was always so much fun.

B. There’s no B on this one. Trust me.

A. You no longer have to ask (prod, cajole, encourage, motivate, hold a mirror under his nose to see if he’s breathing…) aforementioned teenager if he has homework to do, classwork to finish, quizzes or tests to study for, papers to sign, grades to keep an eye on, or projects to complete, and compose yourself long enough to stimulate chronic eye twitching.

B. You no longer have time to do all of the above because it’s the last day of school and all of the above didn’t exactly work, so you’ve resorted to Plan Z in preparation for the next school year. Already.

A. Even though you’re a million years older than you once were when you couldn’t wait for the Last Day of School, you still remember that the Day After the Last Day of School was a very special day that meant you’d lay in bed as long as you possibly could waiting to feel that feeling you’d waited for all year. You know. The, “IT’S SUMMER AND YOU DON’T HAVE TO GO TO SCHOOL!” feeling. The one where your days stretch in front of you, yawning with possibility.

B. Since The Day After the Last Day of School is Tuesday this year, and that’s normally a car pool morning for me, see the first “A” above.

A. You’ll finally, finally get to see your wannabe artist son’s art portfolio knowing it will make you smile, appreciating his ability even though the world wants to browbeat artists, guilting them into thinking that begging on a street corner spouting formulas and quadratic equations in Spanish will gain them more handouts than painting or playing a violin. Okay, so an electric guitar maybe?

B. I’ll finally get to maybe think about possibly considering looking in his backpack, hoping against hope that there are no apples in the bottom, left to ferment for weeks. But if there are apples, I’ll be reminded that sometimes apples do fall far from the tree, and that is fortunate.

Happy Last Day of School!

June 16, 2008
The effect of Paradise and marine layers on golf.

I think by now you know that I have a “maybe like – sorta meh” relationship with this palm-laden place I begrudgingly refer to as Paradise. I know that there are many cities I could live that pale in comparison are much more interesting, but my grousing is about more than the monotonous weather that draws people here.

It’s about mindset — as in the mindset of many long time residents and other self-elected expert representatives of the region as a whole. Somehow, as large as this city has become over the years, the only thing that ever seems to matter to visitors is the weather.

So why am I on this particular toot this morning?

(more…)

June 11, 2008
The family that views together?

My mother loves watching television. Loves. It. So it’s been a challenge for her since arriving back in Paradise to adjust to our television viewing habits. Um, we don’t exactly have any?

She’s got to feel like she’s in TV Hell.

We do have shows we enjoy, but from my perspective, it’s more about being with my menfolk in the evening after dinner than the show itself. Sappy, but true. Now, the MoH would probably say, “Whatever,” to my response being the avid one-who-looks-forward-to-his-three-shows-that-aren’t-sports type person that he is, but you do get the idea, right?

Outside of those few shows on our highly intellectual viewing agenda (American Noodle, Bones, House, Top Chef…), we surf. Someone grabs the clicker while I’m putting the finishing touches on the latest recipe I’m subjecting my family to and their job is to find something we’ll all enjoy while we’re eating — nothing anyone really cares about. You know, like Dirty Jobs, which is great viewing while eating. Have you seen the one about the clean up after the toilets exploded? Nice.

This isn’t always as easy as it sounds since we’re usually ready to park our butts on the couch with food and beverage in hand around 7PM most nights. There’s never really anything on. One-hundred-fifty channels, not counting choices for the On-Demand channels or pay-per-view options and there’s nothing on. If you have a closet full of clothes and often feel as if you have nothing to wear, it would be similar to that feeling. Completely hopeless.

Like I said. We surf. It doesn’t matter that it’s 6:50 or 7:12, the one with the clicker stops at whatever looks good — erm, that would so not be Cash Cab, okay? Who thinks of that crap? We settle in while we eat, try to ignore the Doggo who waits patiently for any finished plate to lick, never blinking lest she miss that opportunity, and like the relatively content saps we are, watch whatever is semi-interesting. Sometimes, that means staring at the pretty pictures on one of the HD channels.

This is all very contrary to what my mom is accustomed to. She is a stalwart TV Guide person, planning her television viewing time meticulously. In fact, she enjoys reading said TV Guide aloud to others so that they, too, can know what is on and marvel at all the possibilities. So I’ve explained the on-line Guide to her. You know. That place that lists all shows on all channels across all hours of the next few centuries? Yes. That one. I’ve also shown her how the DVR works. That way she can record her favorites, then watch them while I’m wasting the prime years of my life *snort* sitting at my Mac every freaking morning of the week. Okay, so maybe not weekends. But still.

So she’s adjusting, but it’s got to be strange. Annoying? Probably downright aggravating. I know we can be that way. So I also encourage her to watch television in our bedroom when we’re downstairs. Warm the bed up, blow the cobwebs off the Sony and fire up the engine to see if it still runs. And she has. Once.

We have been enjoying American Noodle together, and that’s been fun, but I’m sure she’d like to hunker down with her own schedule, with her own television, which, by the way, is sitting in the garage with the rest of her Earthly possessions and is just about as big as the little bedroom I wedged her into. In fact, now that I think of it, that television is so enormous, I wonder if it will fit through the door.

Okay, so maybe not that big. But I don’t want to think about trying to carry it up the stairs. Besides, we don’t have cable active in that part of the house. Gawd forbid giving the RTR another reason to hole up in his cave. Besides, can TVs actually pick up stations without being hooked up anymore?

So this morning, after diligently recording Boston Legal and Grey’s Anatomy, do you think she’d actually be able to sit down and enjoy them? One would think so. But for some reason, the sound wasn’t working on the television. One of us must have pushed a mysterious button on the clicker and it’s hopeless to try and figure out which one it is without dorking the entire operation up beyond all repair. So I clicked off the power surge for a few minutes and let the whole thing reboot.

It works now.

But she’s upstairs messing around with her laptop which was freezing up every time she had more than a couple of windows open.

I have my fingers crossed that it’s fixed now, too.

Because, like I said, I’m in the prime of my life and have so many swell things to get on with.

Like vacation plans.

I finally found a cute little place in Sorrento for the second leg of our trip to Italy (I booked an apartment in Rome for the first leg) which is happening in less than six weeks and I am sooooooooo not ready…The Hotel del Mare sits nearly at the Marina Grande and is a winding, hilly walk to the center of Sorrento. A great way to work off the breakfast that comes with the room! It sounds like the four of us will be shoulder-to-shoulder and have some family bonding time.

But I am starting to get pretty excited about the whole thing.

It’s finally beginning to feel real!

May 23, 2008
Friday in my world.

Welcome to my Friday Follies. I figured it was a great way to cover what competes for attention in my brain. You know. In case anyone is actually interested. And since Friday is only so long, I can’t exactly include my entire list.

Question of the Day/Week/Month/Lifetime: Would any of the unthinkably serious crap that is taking place in the world right now be happening if women ruled? Seriously. Clearly, I’m not opposed to men in general. I’m quite fond of four of my own, all of whom are quite pleasant humans. But I will never, ever understand what possesses some to be so consumed with a desire for power, that they destroy what and whomever lies in their path. It makes absolutely no sense. I would say, “Nuke ’em ’till they glow,” but Greenpeace would revoke my membership and I’d have to take my sticker off my Mac.

Now I’ve heard everything: BBC News is reporting today that we can now blame the obese for the planet’s energy woes. I can officially expect the BBC to pick up some of the crap I write since they have decided to bring attention to this illustrious study and call it news.

For the shopper who has everything and can’t resist yet another… um…thing: The ultimate cake server. My VBF handed it to me unopened the other day on our morning walk saying she didn’t want it. I think it was something she received at a dinner party? Lo and behold, a wonder of design revealed itself after I was done fighting with the packaging. Just chuck the magnetized heel, and you’ve got a swanky brushed stainless cake server that may or may not fit in your utensil drawer. My VBF is sooooo getting this back.

For summer travel plans: Consider Paradise your destination. Palm trees, fish tacos, an excellent ball park with a less than stellar ball team, and no more spine-wrenching plunges into bathtub-sized potholes! An end to days of signs warning of sewage spills at the bay? Standard & Poor has finally given our fair city an acceptable bond rating again. We will now get to use plastic to pay for street repairs, faulty sewer lines and broken water mains. Party on! Maybe they can also do something about our pump prices?

My gentle menfolk: I am willing to act like I’m somewhat interested in anyone who can convince me that a person interested in the arts needs to take advanced mathematics. But I think I’ve heard it all before. The RTR will be bypassing pre-calculus for statistics as a junior next year since it’s the lesser of two evils and he has to take a third year of math. The MoH has concocted a bribe — monetary — if the RTR can squeak by with a “C” in Algebra II and Spanish. He does have an “A” in PE, however, which is huge when one considers that actually moving his now more than 6′-tall lankiness is not something he enjoys. And that he has a swim coach who makes the entire class do 45 laps — yes, that would be 45 — to compensate for kids caught sneaking into the locker room early. Maybe the RTR needs to swim with me this summer. And pigs will fly.

My Tiny Paradise:

I saw this guy early this morning when I should have been sleeping in. My VBF had an early appointment so I didn’t have to stumble out of bed at dawn’s crack to walk. Do you think I could actually sleep? Um. No. So of course I got up and thought…Hell. I can take macro snail shots while enjoying my coffee! He looked so cute, I couldn’t bring myself to chuck him over the wall into the early morning traffic. Which probably saved me a law suit now that I think of it. Gawd forbid that I hit someone’s Maserati with snail guts.

On the menu? Feh. I never have a menu. But my friend Gina always does. *sigh* In my next life, I’ll be as organized. Our meals are all mushed around in my head with all this other crap I think about. But I have finally edited the photos from our latest dinner party featuring Rick Bayless’s Mexican cuisine and will be getting around to doing that mammoth post today. And I’m thinking next week is going to be Indian…Tiki Masala, anyone?

Me & my mom: Things are great! We’ve only had 3 arguments, 5 disagreements, uttered 49 sighs of exasperation, clucked our tongues 89 times, and been disgusted with one another once or twice. Don’t get me wrong — that’s all normal — at least it has been since I was In High School. We have our laughs and snorts, too. We’ve been on a few field trips, (Wally World, Target…) have drunk umpteen gazillion pots of coffee, analyzed the state of the human condition at least 14 times, moved my bedroom around, and jeered each other’s candidates with gusto. Her cat finally ventured down the stairs by herself today to be greeted by my hissing pretentious attack cat, and the doggo has stopped following my mom up and down the stairs, realizing her favorite person isn’t going anywhere. Her hips thank her. The dog’s. Not my mom’s.

I’d say that’s enough folly for a Friday.

Don’t you?

I feel so much better now.

May 16, 2008