Monday, November 26, 2007

Thanksgiving weekend

A weekend out of town does wonders for mental health.

Food helps. I take full credit for the mound of mashed potatoes in the middle of the table. Must have been something akin to driving fatigue, except with potatoes. I just kept peeling and peeling and before I knew it the entire stock pot was full. Oops.


The next day, all the girls ventured forth on four-wheelers.



We ended our journey at the Nenana River, where we stopped for a snack and a feeble attempt at fishing. We held onto said snacks for dear life, as the wind tends to blow a bit in our corner of the globe. By "a bit," I mean "screaming down the valley so fast that we were in danger of becoming human tumbleweeds."


Fun anyway though, red noses and all.




















Stay tuned. A fascinating discussion on the merits of face-first arctic fish calling is soon to come.

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Friday, November 02, 2007

Could it be ... Satan?

Bumper sticker:
"If money is the root of all evil, why do churches beg for it?"

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Wednesday, October 31, 2007

Fairly sparkly


Halloween for me this year was a veritable orgy of organza and sparkles.












Did I mention the sparkles? Did I mention that, for the first time since I was five, it was OK to color all over my arms, chest and face with a crayon.


My partner in crime went more for the riding crop look.

















The result: sort of a good fairy/bad fairy effect. We terrorized the town for several hours before retiring our wings for another year.



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Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Saucy science

A note to any of you who may be contemplating adding a bit of fish to your homemade alfredo sauce (because we all contemplate such things periodically, no?): Proceed with caution. Repeat after me: Add cheese first, then add the fish.

Apparently, parmesan cheese has a stronger chemical or physical attraction to salmon than it does to noodles. I put the fish in with the milk and butter and then added the noodles. The result: glob-o-cheesy-salmon and watery, milk-flavored "sauce" that necessitated a bit of corn starch to make it palatable. A smooth, creamy alfredo sauce was noticeably absent.

My culinary heartbreak aside, I do wonder: Is it physics or chemistry that makes the cheese cling to the salmon like a groupie to a glam rocker? And more importantly, do you think I could find some way to turn that into a master's thesis?

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Tuesday, October 09, 2007

Insta-suck

Overheard:
"When are they going to get instant lipo? I'm uncomfortable."

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Wednesday, October 03, 2007

Of purple spruce trees

I had the strangest experience today at a meeting. Several people were telling me something that simply isn't and then looking at me like I was highly offensive and slightly crazy for pointing that out. And then they asked me to justify what I would do to make the thing that isn't right with the world. It was like some alternate universe or something:

Setting - In the woods, next to a towering spruce tree
Cast - Me, Person 1, Person 2

Me: Wow. That's an amazing tree.
Person 1: Yes, that purple spruce tree is just gorgeous.
Person 2: (with emphasis) I am just blown away by the beautiful purple color of that spruce tree.
Me: (laughing at their joke) Yeah! That spruce tree's just the perfect grape color. (winks and elbows Person 2.)
Person 2: (glaring) What's so funny? I really do think it's a pretty purple spruce tree.
Person 1: Yeah, why are you laughing? It really is a lovely shade of purple.
Me: (brows furrowed in a puzzled way) Umm. Yeah, but the tree is green. It's a spruce tree. They are green.
Person 1: No, it is NOT green. It's purple.
Me: But ... But ... (points to tree) It's green. Can't you see it? It's a perfectly lovely, perfectly green, spruce tree.
Person 2: (shakes head) Why do you have to be so negative?
Person 1: (shakes head and walks away with Person 2) Yeah. You just don't know anything about spruce trees. Why do you always have to argue about these things. We know that spruce trees are purple.
Me: (softly and looking at the tree with a baffled expression) I don't understand. The tree is green.

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Thursday, September 13, 2007

What is this stuff you speak of?

Overheard: "I love my husband, but he can't be in charge of ... like ... stuff."

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Sunday, September 02, 2007

Overheard

Woman 1: So it's just after the orgasm that everything goes to shit?
Woman 2: That pretty much sums up my first marriage.

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Is that a carrot in your pocket?

There really isn't much I can add to this one:



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Sunday, August 26, 2007

That’s a helluva spider

I’m really starting to wonder if somebody upstairs is messing with my head, if perhaps he or she who rules the universe is perhaps engaging in one of those games where you try to connect a bunch of dots by only passing over each dot once. The result is a web where every dot is connected, but yet not.

Bear with me for a moment.

Now I live in a small town in a small state, so feeling like I know everyone and everyone knows me is a common thing. But lately, the connections have been sprouting up at an almost alarming rate and in the strangest of circumstances. If people are the dots on the page, it’s almost like each time I touch one of the dots, four or five new lines sprout out and connect to other dots.

At any rate, if I have any more strange coincidences, conversations with friends and acquaintances that begin, “Oh, I know so-and-so, we used to work together” or “Oh yeah, she’s the sister of my best friend’s mother” I think I may just come unhinged. This has happened, in one way or the other, on multiple occasions just in the last week. And each time it seems to be in a very odd context. It hasn’t been a pleasant, “Oh yay, another friend sort of thing” but rather an uncomfortable sort of context, a context that makes me uneasy and worry that the next connection could be one that makes my life very difficult.

Damn tangled web. Somebody needs to step on this spider

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Friday, August 24, 2007

Why do volcanos erupt?

The Spoof, an online news satire site, has the following story that offers the real reason for Alaska's geologic unrest:

Volcano's pavlovian reaction to Corrupt Bastards Club furor
Anchorage, Alaska - (Armageddon Press): One of Alaska's most active volcanos appears to be having what scientists have described as an 'anthropomorphic pavlovian reaction' to the furor surrounding the Corrupt Bastards Club and is begining to blow its lid this weekend. Read the rest of the "story" here.

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Tuesday, August 21, 2007

No explanation required

Another police report item. Adding comment to this would just be like saying "there is air," but it reflects something pretty ugly.

Fairbanks police were called to the Rabinowitz Courthouse on Thursday on a report of a Middle Eastern looking man taking pictures of the building. The person was contacted by an officer and produced a Bulgarian passport. The man works at a local hotel and is in Fairbanks on a working vacation, he told the officer.

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You put your weed in there

Here's a below-the-belt twist on the classic SNL skit with Rob Schneider, courtesy of our local police report:

A woman was arrested on suspicion of second-degree robbery early Saturday after she beat another woman at a party and stole her bottle of Vicodin. The 38-year-old suspect hid the pill bottle in an intimate place and jail guards had to retrieve it via a strip search.

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Monday, August 20, 2007

I crack me up

I tend to mix metaphors. I'll start talking about the sands of time blowing over
stormy seas and all we'll have is mud.

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Sunday, August 12, 2007

Too careful?

In my years as a journalist and an avid watcher of current events, I have witnesses the beauty of the human spirit. I have also seen us at our worst. I have spoken to killers and have listened to child molesters. I have seen people lie and cheat and exploit their friends and family members in order to get what they want. I have watched families go through unbearable pain and heard many of them utter the words, “if only.” If only we would have been more careful. If only we would have checked things out more completely. To say that journalism can leave one skeptical would be an understatement.

However, someone held a mirror to me this afternoon and it made me a little sad because that skepticism is also part of my personal life now. I never want to be that person saying, “if only,” and I do what I can to avoid that scenario. I check out new people that come into my life, especially if I know they will have contact with my children or if they will be someone I may spend a great deal of time with. It’s nothing intrusive, just a quick courthouse records check and a run through a couple of search engines and databases. Still, I suspect that most of the world doesn’t do it. Despite the fact that our sense of privacy is a bit of a fallacy, in my opinion, people don’t like the idea of big brother or their friends checking up on them. It comes across as a little creepy.

Today, I told someone I checked them out, and it bothered this person, hurt them a little, I suspect. And this is someone who I absolutely do not want to hurt. This person wondered why I would trust so little, why I would be unable to take what they say at face value and evaluate their character on my own, without the aid of my search engines. And I didn’t have a good answer for that, other than I have seen the worst and want to be careful. It sounds pragmatic on paper, and it is. But interpersonal relationships are often not built on the practical. They are not business deals. And when you’re speaking to someone, and they say, with a tinge of anger or sadness in their voice, “Have I not been honest with you? Why don’t you trust what I tell you?” it’s difficult to say anything but, “I apologize.”

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Friday, August 10, 2007

Moral relativism

I'm feeling a little overcome with said relativism these days for a couple of reasons, but one in particular, and it scares me a little. I won't go into details, but it suffices to say that the situation is causing me some degree of pause. Throughout my life, I've always been sure of what is right and what is wrong. And my insticts always matched that morality, for the most part. Furthermore, I can recall moments in my life where I ignored those insticts and listened more to my brain and my logic, and that got me into trouble. My marriage was a prime example of that. From the very beginning, my instincts, in concert with my moral compass, were screaming, "Leave that one alone. Do not commit yourself to that." However, my brain and my logic, together with some external pressures, told me that it was what I was supposed to do, what I was expected to do. So I ignored the gut and went with logic. It cost me nine years of my life and did a great deal of damage to my psyche and those of my children.

Now I find myself in an incredibly odd situation. My instincts are telling me to do one thing, screaming at me that I need to go down this particular path. My brain and logic are saying "Bad idea." Seems an easy choice, yes? Go with your instincts, they are there for a reason. Except in this case, my instincts do not match at all with what I would consider the morally correct thing to do. This is perhaps the first time in my life that this has happened. So, what is the correct path? Does one ignore instincts at their own peril to follow the course that morality says is the correct one? Or does one follow those instincts at the risk of somehow compromising those morals?

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Tuesday, August 07, 2007

Beware Flipper

This beyond-awesome headline from the Richmond Times-Dispatch:

Cute-looking dolphins can be pretty mean
Read the full story here. Quote in the third graf is pretty awesome too,

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Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Duck the sentimental landslide

Make a note of this, folks: Two weddings in as many weeks can cause unexplainable bouts of sighing to the accompaniment of country music, as well as periodic daydreams of cowboys/knights or other strong male figures on white horses galloping across windy prairies.

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Wednesday, July 18, 2007

HR by me

Most employers offer sick leave. What about "sick of it" leave? I think we need special leave for those days when life, either work or personal, is too utterly irritating or miserable to allow any productivity.

If we were being honest, we'd say, "You know, I could sit here and do my best to get something done, but the reality is that my mind is really stewing about that stupid thing my husband did and the enormous altercation that will ensue at the first moment I see him, so any work I do will be, at best, substandard."

I can just see it in every employee handbook:

Sick-of-it leave: Every employee receives three sick-of-it leave days each year, to be used when an employee's mind cannot be focused on work due to the irritating actions of a family member, friend or significant other; a home improvement project that is impossibly out-of-control; or any other life event that is utterly FUBAR.

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Sunday, July 15, 2007

Who’s oppressing who

In the midst of a discussion about politics a few weeks ago, one of the participants, who is a self-proclaimed conservative, says something to the effect of, “ The Democratic ideologies are the reason that lower-income people continue to remain under the thumb of the aristocracy.”

This person was referring, of course, to the effect that social welfare programs, such as food stamps or housing assistance, has on the masses. I won’t argue that giving people everything they need to survive, and asking for no work in return, is a good thing. I agree that such things can tend to breed lack of motivation. Why work when you can do nothing and still survive? I would also point out that the causes of poverty in the United States are rooted in many things, some historical, some personal, some political. The cycle is far too complicated to explain or solve with a simple, “If we made them work, they would be more prosperous.”

It’s difficult to ignore the fact that the rich are getting richer and the poor are getting poorer. Most of us who live in the middle are not getting any closer to that dream of prosperity. Do a Google search to find out how the growth of CEO’s salaries compares to the growth of the average workers’. In some ways, I would say that the “American dream” of gaining riches through hard work is at best the exception rather than the rule. Lots of people work hard throughout their entire lives. They aren’t getting rich doing it.

The reason low-income people, at least those who work, remain poor, is because they are not paid a living wage by the leaders of these large companies, leaders who make more in a single year than 97 percent of us will make in a lifetime. Now they will say that the reason they must pay people so poorly is that consumers, including middle-class consumers, demand low prices for their goods. Fair enough. Except, I wonder, if theses CEOs and boards of directors allowed even half of their top salaries to trickle down to the middle-income-earning employees, would those employees still demand such low prices?

Capitalism and the free market are wonderful things. At the most basic level, they have the ability to let one person, one business owner, create prosperity for multiple others. This is why things like microloans make such a big difference in developing countries. That one startup business provides jobs, which provide money to spend at other businesses, which in turn can hire more employees. It’s an amazing and powerful thing.

However, like anything, it can be taken to extremes. I think perhaps that is what has happened in the United States. In many cases, the leaders of today’s largest employers are so far removed from the business, and its employees, that the wages they are paying people are little more than a ledger note. In a relatively small business, the owner can see, first hand, the effects of his or her decisions. Not giving people raises this year? You’ll hear in the hallways how employees won’t be able to buy as many school clothes or Christmas presents. It makes it hard to take a $2 million bonus at the end of the year, as payment for upping the profit margin, when you have to look in the eyes of those who gave up braces for their kids to get you there.

Why are lower-income people stuck where they are? Many reasons. But we cannot depend on the consciences of CEOs and boards of directors to somehow see the light and start paying people a living wage. It’s not that any of them are bad or uncaring people. It’s just that they are so far removed from those who are affected by their decisions. The eyes they look into every day are those of their most influential shareholders, not those of the night stocker making $8 an hour. They cannot be wholly blamed for ignoring something they cannot see. However, in such cases, it becomes the responsibility of a government of the people to take steps to show them what they cannot see. A living minimum wage is a good first step. A limit on compensation for the CEOs of publicly traded companies might be another. The wealth is not trickling down. Our market needs some assistance in order to work as it was intended.

I would contend that eliminating all social programs will not eliminate poverty. We have a better chance of doing so if we find a way to make a day’s work worth something more than simply being able to barely make it from paycheck to paycheck. If we want people to work hard for prosperity, we have to make that American dream something more than a symbol of some bygone reality. It has to be more than two words that our mouths say with idealistic fervor while our minds struggle to apply it to the world at hand.

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Friday, July 13, 2007

Yeah! Um ... yeah.

Overheard:
"If you can't talk smack in checkers, what can you do?"

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Monday, July 02, 2007

Rugged Alaska woman in training

Me: Dang it, my front signal light housing on the truck is broken. I'll have to order a new part,
My 7-year-old daughter (with authority): No Mom! Duct tape!

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Friday, June 29, 2007

A wonderful word

cockalorum n. - 1 a little man with an exaggerated idea of his own importance 2 boastful talk; crowing

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Friday, June 01, 2007

All wholesome & stuff

I'm in an unnamed midwest city, a very large one, as evidenced in the very thick yellow pages. But here's the thing: I don't think this town has a single alternative business of any type. I looked. My fingers walked all over those robust yellow pages. I looked under "adult." Nothing. I looked under "pornography." Nothing. I looked under "bookstores, adult" and not only did I find nothing, the ratio of Christian bookstores to regular bookstores was, frankly, a little scary. Strip clubs. Nothing under than entry. Also nothing under "marital aids" or "gay"--or any iteration of the word. I know there must be places where people buy their porn and things that go buzz in the night. And c'mon, everybody likes a good drag show now and again. But I'll be damned if I know what the code words are to find these places in the yellow pages.

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Thursday, May 17, 2007

Goodbye cape

From a bumper sticker:
"I used to have superhuman powers, but my therapist took them away."

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Sunday, May 13, 2007

Exposed nerves

At times, the words and actions of those in the world around me resemble a sandblaster, capable of stripping even the thickest of skins.

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Friday, May 11, 2007

Finger pointing in stereo

From a bumper sticker:

"Errors have been made. Others will be blamed."

This is beautiful both for its literal meaning, chiefly that the buzzing bureaucrats of the world love nothing more than to parcel out blame to someone else, and for its use of passive voice, a favorite tool of those who wish to never take responsibility for any action, ever. Think "a decision was made ..." Who made that decision?

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Wednesday, May 09, 2007

Everyone needs a little Spanking!

This on the tag of a black neoprene zippered case from Japan, one about the size of a makeup bag:

"Spanking!
Size-Case
Nomadic Inc.
You can find "it" up
completely at any time,
at any purpose
in your lifestyle.
That's something like."


Something. Yes. It is something.

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Thursday, May 03, 2007

A religious experience


Um. Yeah. Maybe not.

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Sob

It's a tragic day in the land of Onion, folks. A living legend of "representin' at the company picnic" fame, Herbert Kornfeld, has passed, a victim of senseless copier-related violence. Who will keep those beeyatchs in accounts payable at bay now? Who, I ask you?

Find the police report here.

In honor of his bad-ass self, I offer one of his signature works, the ever-inspiring piece "I Gots To Represent At Tha Muthafuckin' Company Picnic"

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Monday, April 30, 2007

A touch of diva

Perhaps it's the sunshine outside and the budding leaves, but I've been stricken with the desire to be a girl as of late. I usually fall more along the lines of yard work, fishing and Home Depot in my leisure time. Except, in the last 72 hours, this rugged Alaska woman has painted her fingernails and toenails, bought some fabulous, strappy, high-heeled sandals and a spring dress, worn pantyhose, drank purple pomegranate martinis at an afternoon ladies' party, attended a women's fundraiser, purchased and wore two gold toe rings, given three "housewife's tarot" readings, crossed my arms in a petulant fashion, and loudly vocalized my displeasure when I felt a man wasn't properly indulging my wants and whims.

Perhaps rugged Alaska diva is more accurate.

'Course it could be that I am just drowning my angst in sparkly things and flowing fabrics.

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Thursday, April 26, 2007

A question of etiquette

Is there a polite way to tell another adult, someone who is ostensibly a professional person, that they should stop capitalizing every word in a sentence? I mean, is it just me, or does the following sound snarky?

"Dear colleague,
I was reading through your item and noted a couple of typos. Just a reminder that we only capitalize the first word of every sentence.
Sincerely,
Your co-worker"

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Tuesday, April 10, 2007

Look in the mirror

My oldest friend asked me to take an online quiz yesterday. It involved word association and a rather complicated exercise in hand-eye coordination. The result, in my case, was that I apparently slightly prefer European Americans to African Americans. Though I have some doubt as to the validity of the methodology, I suppose it makes some sense, given that I am white. My friend, who is African American, also took it and said the results showed a slight preference for African Americans.

My 13-year-old son offered a simple explanation: He said that it is natural for human beings to have an affinity for other humans that look similar to themselves. And his point is well taken, I suppose. A while ago, I read about a study that showed that men and women, when asked to pick the most attractive person of the opposite gender from a collection of photos, overwhelmingly chose a photo of themselves, morphed to be the opposite gender.

Yet, there must be more. My two oldest children, ages 13 and 10, also took the same quiz. They both showed no preference toward either race. My children are white. Using the aforementioned logic, they should have both scored as I did. But they didn’t.

That fact both gives me some hope and some pause about my own prejudices, even if they are not part of my conscious thought. My upbringing was not one surrounded by diversity. Until I was a sophomore in high school and moved to a larger community, I could count my African American classmates on one finger. And even in this larger community, the racial lines were bright. It wasn’t that relations felt acrimonious, at least they didn’t feel that way from my perspective; it was just that the white people didn’t mix with the black people. It was self-segregated or, perhaps more accurately, socially segregated. And I remember acutely the degree of whispering that accompanied anyone who stepped over the bright line: the girl who dated a black boy and vice-versa, the white kid who liked to hang out in that section of the hallway.

I told this story to my son, and he just shook his head. “That’s just messed up, Mom,” he said. Yet despite this and despite that I know he has friends of all ethnic and racial backgrounds, I also have heard him talk of what sounds to me like racial tension in his school. He isn’t sure what to make of it. I think it puzzles him greatly. I can’t help but worry that his neutral stance now, and that of his sister, is more a factor of the blank slate of childhood. Will the world ruin them?

I suppose that the best place to start is to recognize our own biases and to acknowledge that most of us have them, even if they are unconscious. It’s not a comfortable place to be, I suspect because, at some level, we all must know how factually absurd racial bias really is. War, injustice, oppression: all over something that boils down to pigment.

No saving the world tonight. Just the vague sense of unease brought on by the harsh light of a mirror to the subconscious.

It’s worth your time to give it a try. The link is here.

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Stressed?

Some people are strung tighter than a piano wire.

I am more inclined to remove the piano wire and use it for various nefarious deeds.

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Monday, April 09, 2007

How many people does it take?

An employee of a government entity discovers that the print shop has discontinued the paper that is used for the single-sheet, photocopied employee newsletter. Now this newsletter comes out with relative frequency, so the time to choose a new color is at hand. So, what is the logical next step? Why, of course it’s to send a memo around to nine different colleagues, with three paper samples neatly attached, so people in two departments can weigh in on this very important issue of the newsletter color. This is especially important because, after all, this newsletter is a source of information for all of the employees in the organization. We wouldn’t want it to be a color that people find overly garish or offensive.

It is, for this reason, that having the thoughtful comment from nine people is vital. Their wise counsel will ensure that the paper choice adequately meets the communication needs of the organization. It is important to choose the correct one.

Oh wait. Did I forget to mention the choices?

Ivory, tan or buff.

And they wonder why bureaucracies are so slow.

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Surviving adolescence

I must confess that I’m starting to wonder whether my 13-year-old son will be allowed to survive to see his 14th birthday, let alone make it to adulthood.

In all seriousness, it’s interesting to watch this adolescent-awakenings phase from the adult perspective. The thing I remember most about my middle school years is that everything, and I do mean everything, seemed incredibly intense and larger-than-life. Every crush, every argument with a friend or my parents, every decision, seemed to be the end-all of everything.

Now, as I watch my son, I see that same intensity manifest itself in some of the most annoying behavior I have ever witnessed. It seems like he’s never middle-of-the-road. When he’s happy, he’s happy to the nth degree, making this “YEEAING!” noise and throwing his body around like a two-year-old who drank the sugar bowl. When he’s mad, he’s prone to tossing things around in his room with angry abandon. And don’t even get me started on the degree to which he tries to push every boundary I can think of, and many that I haven’t.

All I can say is, “It’s a wonder my parents didn’t off me as soon as I hit 13.”

I suppose the only thing that saves him is that, at times, I can see a glimpse of the man who lives beneath this big, strange, swirling mass of hormones. And that man is kind and compassionate, intelligent and responsible.

Perhaps I’ll let him live, after all.

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Block ‘o chop

Note to self: Putting a three-pound block of pork chops into the oven at 7 p.m. is likely not the most effective way to create an evening meal and may result in scrounging around the fridge for leftovers at 9 p.m. because, after all, the kids have to eat.

I’m just sayin’.

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Saturday, April 07, 2007

No weed required

Time: 11:30 p.m.
Scene: Two women up talking all night.
Woman 1 to Woman 2: "I want to put some of that government cheese on these chips."

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Friday, April 06, 2007

Truth at 8:30 a.m.

Overheard from a male colleague:

"If I don't care so much, it doesn't hurt so bad."

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Thursday, March 08, 2007

When verbs fly

If I am writing with Prince playing in the background, does that mean I will likely have undulating prose?

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Monday, March 05, 2007

The flak's mantra

"Why couldn't that have fallen in my junk box?"

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Friday, March 02, 2007

Does this mean I'm a grown up?

Apparently, I am now officially the parent of a teenager. And here I am still getting used to the idea that I am anyone's mother. I suppose now I have to start acting all mature and stuff. Geez.

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Sunday, February 25, 2007

Flirtin’ with ... somethin’

Is it bad when I start to think my song, as reference below, might be the Molly Hatchet anthem?

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Honey ... you’re fired.

Add this to the strange marketing hall of fame:

As the shopper walks down the aisle of Fred Meyer, she is drawn to the powder-blue cardboard display jutting into the aisle. “As seen on ‘The Apprentice’” the words on the side proudly and loudly proclaim. Being the well-trained consumer that she is, the shopper immediately starts to think, “Wow. That’s intriguing. I mean, it’s such a wonderful, if a little naughty, show. So entertaining. And think of the status I could achieve if I were to use the same product they use on this show. My friends would be so impressed.” Her heart skips a beat when she picks up the product from the display. There, on the label, is a teeny-tiny picture of “The Donald” on the label, looking all cutthroat businessman-like. “Oh man,” she thinks, “I could actually have the one and only Donald Trump staring at me in the kitchen. I don’t care what you say, you mean ol’ Rosie O’Donnell, that Mr. Trump is simply fantastic.”

That’s it, she’s hooked. Mission accomplished. Goodbye store-brand. You’re fired, FMV. She’s moved on.

From here on out, it’s Sue Bee honey in the 12-ounce squeeze bottle with a flip-top lid. As seen on “The Apprentice.”

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Friday, February 23, 2007

Hit the dirt!

This just in: New Jerusalem Church of God in Christ is hosting a "Soul Winning Explosion" this week. Lift your head at your own peril. It could be lopped off by exploding soul shrapnel. And that, folks, is a very scary thing.

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Tuesday, February 20, 2007

Profound. Really.

"Lead, lunch and children are a perilous mix."
-Connecticut Attorney General Richard Blumenthal

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If you were a song...

A very wise friend of mine recently likened a person's life to a song, with its accompanying changes in tune and pitch and volume. This was in the midst of some relatively serious soul-searching on my part about whether certain actions define a person and/or their relationships with other people.

Seriousness aside, however, that prompted an amusing thought in my brain. If I were a song, what would I be? It probably changes from day to day.

Today? I think it's a "Da Da Da," sort of day. How 'bout you?

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Thursday, February 01, 2007

Life in a bureaucracy

Have an idea for a project.
Write down your idea.
Make a list of all ideas and determine where your idea falls in the list.
Form a committee to study the idea.
Revise the idea and resubmit to the committee.
Help the committee determine who will carry out the project.
Have that person write the project down on a list.
Have that person's supervisor determine, in concert with his or her entire office, where that project falls on the person's list of priorities.
Person does project work.
* Have supervisor review the work.
Submit work to the committee.
Committee revises work and sends back to supervisor.
Supervisor, in concert with the entire office, directs the person to make the revisions.
Repeat from * five times.
Complete project.
Put project on a list of accomplishments.
Repeat entire process to generate a report to tell "Them" what you are doing with your time.

Now toss yourself out the window. AAAAA! *Thud*

This, folks, is what is meant by the term "self-licking ice cream cone."

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Wednesday, January 17, 2007

Um ... is it OK to, like, take money?

I really have to wonder about our elected officials when one of them, who shall remain nameless, is quoted in a radio news program saying something to the effect of, "We all want to be ethical if someone will just tell us what is and is not ethical."

*slaps forehead*

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Bubbliscious

It must have been one of those days at work where I was struck by the utter absurdity and redundancy of some of the things around me. This link pretty much sums it up and had me nearly in tears of laughter when I discovered it midway through the day. Or were they tears of despair? You be the judge.

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Monday, January 08, 2007

The Good, the Bad and the Really Flippin’ Bad

Good: “Hmm. I think I remember filling up the fuel tank about this time last year. I have used a good bit of wood this year, so I should be fine, but I had better go measure the tank. Good thing I thought about this. Better safe than sorry.”

Bad: “Nice, the fuel company screwed my cap on so tight, I can’t get it off to measure the tank. Strap wrench? Nope, too cold. It slides. Channel locks? Nope. Too small. Surely the pipe wrench will be big enough. Nope. Too small. And they want $25 for a wrench that might be big enough? Oh forget it. I’ll just call next week.”

Really Flippin’ Bad: “Time to turn up the heat. It’s 40 below outside. What the...? Nice. No fuel. It’s 7 p.m. Guess I’ll be getting up in the middle of the night to add more wood to the woodstove. It’s gonna be a chilly morning, for sure.

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Life without kids

Kids were with dad for a week. I got a glimpse of my life in a dozen years and I think I am likely to go insane:

8 a.m. Get up and get ready for work
9 a.m.- 6 p.m. Work
6:15 p.m. Stop at grocery store and buy a bag of Caesar salad and a chicken breast
6:45 p.m. Eat dinner
7:30 p.m. Finish dishes, all five of them
10:30 p.m. Finish reading novel
10:35 p.m. Wonder what the heck to do next
10:40 p.m. Clean something
11 p.m. Wonder what the heck to do now
11:03 p.m. Look at the ceiling. Maybe I should paint it. Maybe I should paint it now.
11:06 p.m. Ephipany. So this is why single people have such organized houses. What the heck else are you supposed to do? If I had an entire year without children, I think I just might be able to completely gut and remodel my home and still have time to read three or four books a week.

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