I Can't EVEN SPELL MY OWN NEW WORD CORRECTLY......MORE PROOF OF MY DOOFICITY!!!!
The girls were great. Who's to Judge?
Me.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Lights, Camera...
At last, FBB has relinquished her vise-like grip on our family computer, so that I may offer up some modest-yet-tasty morsels to the deserving denizens of this particular neighborhood in Blogadishu.
My house is serenely quiet right now, as FBB and all but the two youngest of our flock have gone out for the evening to watch our two oldest daughters perform in their school play.
The two little ones are sleeping, or as I refer to it, building up their energy before proceeding to the next phase in their world domination.
Tonight's performance is actually the second of two showings of this play, which debuted last night. The early reviews of our daughters' performances was quite positive, which always makes me proud.
Certainly, those who know FBB will assume that my offspring inherited their acting skill from their mother. However, I am aware (and now you are too) that their acting skill actually comes from me.
My acting career is long and varied. I received my first break when I was cast as the lead in my 1st Grade play. I cannot recall any of my lines now, so many years hence. (Actually, I don't think I remembered many of my lines during the play, either).
Despite being a neophyte at the time, my work was well reviewed. One particularly effusive reviewer exclaimed that I "...filled the stage" with my presence. (I think that the exact words were "That kid is so fat that he filled the entire stage. I couldn't even see my poor grandson.")
The only other thing I can recall about that play was that I was cast as some sort of train conductor, and was forced to wear a silly hat. As you can see, I have suffered for my craft. Ever since that time, I have been determined that anyone who approached me with a script would need to allow me to use my own, personal costume designer. I simply won't negotiate that point.
In the intervening years, the only roles I've received have been in television, where I was asked to play myself. Interestingly, while I've reprised that role dozens of times, in various settings, I've never been approached to play a character other than myself. Clearly, this can only mean that the decision makers in the entertainment industry are well aware of the fact that even they are incapable of creating a character who would be more interesting and engaging than the real MBB. Much like the late Bob Denver, I have been typecast. Or, perhaps the costume designer thing is a deal-breaker.
Oh well.
Fortunately, I am more than content to be heretofore known as the father of great actresses.
My house is serenely quiet right now, as FBB and all but the two youngest of our flock have gone out for the evening to watch our two oldest daughters perform in their school play.
The two little ones are sleeping, or as I refer to it, building up their energy before proceeding to the next phase in their world domination.
Tonight's performance is actually the second of two showings of this play, which debuted last night. The early reviews of our daughters' performances was quite positive, which always makes me proud.
Certainly, those who know FBB will assume that my offspring inherited their acting skill from their mother. However, I am aware (and now you are too) that their acting skill actually comes from me.
My acting career is long and varied. I received my first break when I was cast as the lead in my 1st Grade play. I cannot recall any of my lines now, so many years hence. (Actually, I don't think I remembered many of my lines during the play, either).
Despite being a neophyte at the time, my work was well reviewed. One particularly effusive reviewer exclaimed that I "...filled the stage" with my presence. (I think that the exact words were "That kid is so fat that he filled the entire stage. I couldn't even see my poor grandson.")
The only other thing I can recall about that play was that I was cast as some sort of train conductor, and was forced to wear a silly hat. As you can see, I have suffered for my craft. Ever since that time, I have been determined that anyone who approached me with a script would need to allow me to use my own, personal costume designer. I simply won't negotiate that point.
In the intervening years, the only roles I've received have been in television, where I was asked to play myself. Interestingly, while I've reprised that role dozens of times, in various settings, I've never been approached to play a character other than myself. Clearly, this can only mean that the decision makers in the entertainment industry are well aware of the fact that even they are incapable of creating a character who would be more interesting and engaging than the real MBB. Much like the late Bob Denver, I have been typecast. Or, perhaps the costume designer thing is a deal-breaker.
Oh well.
Fortunately, I am more than content to be heretofore known as the father of great actresses.
Coining a Phrase....Or At Least a Word...
This word is so encompassing, it's almost a phrase in and of itself.
There are a number of factors that have led me to coin this term. All of them are associated with my recent behaviors, all of which are best described as the ultimate in
DOOFICTY(edited: see comments) DOOFICITY
It so perfectly captures the inept and foolish way I have conducted myself lately. You all know of the Lands End shipping fiasco, and now there's the Science Center Scandal (not really a scandal, but it sounds good).
I'm a fairly cautious person, I like to check and double check things, like hours, exhibits and things of that nature. The two oldest girls have their school production this evening, and the other kids have mid-winter vacation. So I wanted to do something fun, educational, but relatively close and small. The Queens Science center fit the bill (officially the New York Hall of Science), we could go for just a few hours have a great time and be back in time to do makeup for the thespians, serve dinner and get them to the venue by 5:30 without having to leave the house at an hour that would require early rising (and potential heavy traffic sitting...ha! more later)
The first clue should have been a New York City facility with an unmanned (read: free) parking attendant booth, but I plowed on. We didn't drive an hour forty five minutes, getting off the Harlem River Drive, avoiding a major back up, to drive through the snow hampered streets of Harlem to be turned away by something as simple as free parking.
The locked doors, and "I'm sorry we're closed on Monday," left me no choice to not only admit defeat, but admit that I was in a spiral of Dooficity, punctuated later by cracking the plastic cover of my front passenger side mirror while pulling out of my snow hampered garage.
There are most certainly more examples, but hopefully one of them is not that I didn't, in anticipation of the storm, switch my kids flight from 9:30 am to 6 am to Florida tomorrow. We shall see...
There are a number of factors that have led me to coin this term. All of them are associated with my recent behaviors, all of which are best described as the ultimate in
It so perfectly captures the inept and foolish way I have conducted myself lately. You all know of the Lands End shipping fiasco, and now there's the Science Center Scandal (not really a scandal, but it sounds good).
I'm a fairly cautious person, I like to check and double check things, like hours, exhibits and things of that nature. The two oldest girls have their school production this evening, and the other kids have mid-winter vacation. So I wanted to do something fun, educational, but relatively close and small. The Queens Science center fit the bill (officially the New York Hall of Science), we could go for just a few hours have a great time and be back in time to do makeup for the thespians, serve dinner and get them to the venue by 5:30 without having to leave the house at an hour that would require early rising (and potential heavy traffic sitting...ha! more later)
The first clue should have been a New York City facility with an unmanned (read: free) parking attendant booth, but I plowed on. We didn't drive an hour forty five minutes, getting off the Harlem River Drive, avoiding a major back up, to drive through the snow hampered streets of Harlem to be turned away by something as simple as free parking.
The locked doors, and "I'm sorry we're closed on Monday," left me no choice to not only admit defeat, but admit that I was in a spiral of Dooficity, punctuated later by cracking the plastic cover of my front passenger side mirror while pulling out of my snow hampered garage.
There are most certainly more examples, but hopefully one of them is not that I didn't, in anticipation of the storm, switch my kids flight from 9:30 am to 6 am to Florida tomorrow. We shall see...
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Is There A Better Company Out There? I Doubt It!
One hard thing about blogging and reading other blogs is the fear of copycatting. This is not a copycat blog, it's my own story about a company G6 blogged about a little while ago. The greatest company I have ever dealt with, the company a seven year old wrote a letter to extolling it's virtues, and received a personal letter back addressing what she wrote in the letter (along with some cute tsotchkes).
It was Land's End.
Here's the story:
Last week I received one of many, many emails I receive from Lands End, and this time I decided to check it out. The 70% off clearance sale. It's always good to find a bargain (and more caps for the cute little man...hey, we have to grow his hair, I expect to need lots of caps!!), and we "went to Town," as they say.
I tracked the package a few days later and saw it was expected to arrive on Thursday. When it did not arrive Thursday, I assumed it was held up due to the snow, but on Friday I re-tracked it, and saw, inexplicably, UPS had sent it to the local post office.
I understand how difficult the job of mail carrier is, the whole "Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds," is a nice sentiment, and though written on the Post Office in New York City, does not always come to pass in real life. Don't get me wrong, I know they deliver in some bad climates, and brave some treacherous weather to do their jobs. Just maybe not all of them, and maybe, maybe not my particular carrier. The guy who subs for her one day a week (because each mail carrier only works 5 days a week even though delivery is six days, so each mail carrier has a sub one day) told me many years ago, "She doesn't get out of the truck so fast when there's snow on the ground." Our mailbox is at the curb, if there's a package that's fairly big in size she brings it to the front door, otherwise, she just leaves it on the ground at the mailbox. When the snow drifts are four and half feet high, thankfully, she doesn't leave packages of any size at the mailbox, she would have to come to the door.
Needless to say I was non too optimistic about my prospects of getting this package anytime before April. I was still confused as to why UPS had opted, this time, to send it to post office. I went back to the UPS website to track it again, and again it said "sent to local post office," but for the first time I also noticed that on the side of the tracking info it said "HONESDALE, PA."
OOOOOPS
The last time I had ordered anything from Lands End it was for my daughter (the letter writer, now 15)right before she went to camp, so we had it sent to camp. I neglected to change the shipping address when I ordered the other day.
The camp, obviously is closed, and packages do not get forwarded to their winter address. What am I going to do? CALL LAND'S END OF COURSE!!
Not only did they not make me feel more foolish then I already felt on my own, but she reordered everything from the warehouse and will just send it to me at my home address, and will just wait for the post office in Honesdale to return the box that was sent to them. They consider it an even exchange, even though they wont be getting the merchandise back before they send the new stuff out to me.
Wow!
I Love Land's End
It was Land's End.
Here's the story:
Last week I received one of many, many emails I receive from Lands End, and this time I decided to check it out. The 70% off clearance sale. It's always good to find a bargain (and more caps for the cute little man...hey, we have to grow his hair, I expect to need lots of caps!!), and we "went to Town," as they say.
I tracked the package a few days later and saw it was expected to arrive on Thursday. When it did not arrive Thursday, I assumed it was held up due to the snow, but on Friday I re-tracked it, and saw, inexplicably, UPS had sent it to the local post office.
I understand how difficult the job of mail carrier is, the whole "Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds," is a nice sentiment, and though written on the Post Office in New York City, does not always come to pass in real life. Don't get me wrong, I know they deliver in some bad climates, and brave some treacherous weather to do their jobs. Just maybe not all of them, and maybe, maybe not my particular carrier. The guy who subs for her one day a week (because each mail carrier only works 5 days a week even though delivery is six days, so each mail carrier has a sub one day) told me many years ago, "She doesn't get out of the truck so fast when there's snow on the ground." Our mailbox is at the curb, if there's a package that's fairly big in size she brings it to the front door, otherwise, she just leaves it on the ground at the mailbox. When the snow drifts are four and half feet high, thankfully, she doesn't leave packages of any size at the mailbox, she would have to come to the door.
Needless to say I was non too optimistic about my prospects of getting this package anytime before April. I was still confused as to why UPS had opted, this time, to send it to post office. I went back to the UPS website to track it again, and again it said "sent to local post office," but for the first time I also noticed that on the side of the tracking info it said "HONESDALE, PA."
OOOOOPS
The last time I had ordered anything from Lands End it was for my daughter (the letter writer, now 15)right before she went to camp, so we had it sent to camp. I neglected to change the shipping address when I ordered the other day.
The camp, obviously is closed, and packages do not get forwarded to their winter address. What am I going to do? CALL LAND'S END OF COURSE!!
Not only did they not make me feel more foolish then I already felt on my own, but she reordered everything from the warehouse and will just send it to me at my home address, and will just wait for the post office in Honesdale to return the box that was sent to them. They consider it an even exchange, even though they wont be getting the merchandise back before they send the new stuff out to me.
Wow!
I Love Land's End
Friday, January 28, 2011
I Love Candy
Not as much as some other people, and it is not AS difficult for me to avoid candy when I'm being careful (read: dieting seriously), BUT...
I just came back from the candy store. The first thing that hits you when you walk in, is the smell. That deep chocolate scent mixed with sugar and a little spice, it just makes you breathe in really deeply. This isn't the big airy corporate candy store. This is a small cramped owner- operated candy store. It may not have as much selection as the big airy corporate candy store, but when the proprietor talks to you, you just want to eat everything in the store. You just want to live in a world of candy.
Of course when I was growing up candy meant sweet confections, somehow that just doesn't cut it anymore. More sour the better!! Sour candy should be an oxymoron, candy should be sweet, but if you mention this to a kid they're just going to think YOU are a moron.
Right now, I just want to eat more of the yogurt bells I got, I had never seen them before, and they are not dairy, they're just a really good tasting gumdrop with the hint of a dairy taste. I would also like the jolly rancher sour chews, but alas, I shall not partake of these luscious confections.
I am dreaming of that chocolaty smell, I have visions of marzipan dancing in my head.
I just came back from the candy store. The first thing that hits you when you walk in, is the smell. That deep chocolate scent mixed with sugar and a little spice, it just makes you breathe in really deeply. This isn't the big airy corporate candy store. This is a small cramped owner- operated candy store. It may not have as much selection as the big airy corporate candy store, but when the proprietor talks to you, you just want to eat everything in the store. You just want to live in a world of candy.
Of course when I was growing up candy meant sweet confections, somehow that just doesn't cut it anymore. More sour the better!! Sour candy should be an oxymoron, candy should be sweet, but if you mention this to a kid they're just going to think YOU are a moron.
Right now, I just want to eat more of the yogurt bells I got, I had never seen them before, and they are not dairy, they're just a really good tasting gumdrop with the hint of a dairy taste. I would also like the jolly rancher sour chews, but alas, I shall not partake of these luscious confections.
I am dreaming of that chocolaty smell, I have visions of marzipan dancing in my head.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Do You Care Where Your Children Are?
Around these parts, a nice quiet suburb, we've recently come upon a new phenomenon.
Hitchhiking.
I guess it makes sense in a fairly homogeneous neighborhood, where even if you don't know everybody, you may know someone who knows someone who knows the person you don't know. Sort of. Meaning, the town has gotten bigger, and there are a lot of people you really don't know. Plus the world is a crazy place.
Culturally, hitchhiking has become accepted practice in certain circles. (To be specific, it's rides within Town, either home or to school)Yet, those circles are blending into other circles, and often I see Non- Hasidic High School boys thumbing rides on the corner (or the middle of the street, it seems not to matter how dangerous it will be for the traffic patterns if you get a car to stop for you wherever you are)
A few years ago, I posted my disgust at parents who send their kids off to school for practice or parties with the instructions "to get a ride," when it would be fairly simple to arrange that in advance and not put other people on the spot. Essentially, shipping kids off not really knowing how they will get home likely contributes to the perpetuation of irresponsible adults we seem to be creating. (It probably also goes along way to explaining the proliferation of "good enough" way of life, where the minimum required effort is expended in many aspects of life including caring for our kids). However, in that situation, you have a pretty good idea that your kid will get a ride with a classmate's parent or sibling.
But maybe not. Maybe, these are some of the kids on the corners sticking out their thumbs waiting for anyone to stop and offer them a ride. I'm curious if these parents ever ask their kids how they got home. It is possible that some of them would be appalled to learn that their kid was hitchhiking, but then that would require asking them how they got home. If there is a situation where a kid gets out early and chooses to thumb a ride home, or gets up late and misses his ride to school, then that is the parents' responsibility to be aware, that like other safety issues we try to teach our kids, they have to talk about hitchhiking and whether or not it's okay to do it.
If I wasn't afraid of being arrested, I'd love to pick up one of these kids, and take them to some random destination and tell them to get out of the car. Because really? Once they're in the car, they are really, to a great extent, at the mercy of the driver.
We need to be willing to tell our kids not to do something, and back it up by willingly chauffeuring them to where they need to go
Hitchhiking.
I guess it makes sense in a fairly homogeneous neighborhood, where even if you don't know everybody, you may know someone who knows someone who knows the person you don't know. Sort of. Meaning, the town has gotten bigger, and there are a lot of people you really don't know. Plus the world is a crazy place.
Culturally, hitchhiking has become accepted practice in certain circles. (To be specific, it's rides within Town, either home or to school)Yet, those circles are blending into other circles, and often I see Non- Hasidic High School boys thumbing rides on the corner (or the middle of the street, it seems not to matter how dangerous it will be for the traffic patterns if you get a car to stop for you wherever you are)
A few years ago, I posted my disgust at parents who send their kids off to school for practice or parties with the instructions "to get a ride," when it would be fairly simple to arrange that in advance and not put other people on the spot. Essentially, shipping kids off not really knowing how they will get home likely contributes to the perpetuation of irresponsible adults we seem to be creating. (It probably also goes along way to explaining the proliferation of "good enough" way of life, where the minimum required effort is expended in many aspects of life including caring for our kids). However, in that situation, you have a pretty good idea that your kid will get a ride with a classmate's parent or sibling.
But maybe not. Maybe, these are some of the kids on the corners sticking out their thumbs waiting for anyone to stop and offer them a ride. I'm curious if these parents ever ask their kids how they got home. It is possible that some of them would be appalled to learn that their kid was hitchhiking, but then that would require asking them how they got home. If there is a situation where a kid gets out early and chooses to thumb a ride home, or gets up late and misses his ride to school, then that is the parents' responsibility to be aware, that like other safety issues we try to teach our kids, they have to talk about hitchhiking and whether or not it's okay to do it.
If I wasn't afraid of being arrested, I'd love to pick up one of these kids, and take them to some random destination and tell them to get out of the car. Because really? Once they're in the car, they are really, to a great extent, at the mercy of the driver.
We need to be willing to tell our kids not to do something, and back it up by willingly chauffeuring them to where they need to go
Monday, January 24, 2011
Cold
Today is the kind of cold where you keep checking the temperature because it so crazy how low the thermometer is reading.
It's the kind of day that you go out with gloves and a hat and a scarf and you think, "hey it's not so bad," until you notice, after one minute that the part of your face that is exposed is hurting and tingling.
Today is the day that you take your kids to school, because it was too cold to wait outside for the bus, and even though you have a stop in front of your house, and it's 3 degrees at eight in the morning the driver blew right past, even though the kids were waiting at the door.
It's the day where everyone else had the same idea and from entering the school parking lot to exiting took ten minutes.
Today is the day you do not take your seven month old out of the house or car, unless you have an appointment that was pushed off three times already and you must take care of and go, but luckily is pushed off until the time of day when it's a balmy 15 degrees.
It's the day you bless your garage.
Today is the day you make a big stew or soup for supper and hunker down as the day gets darker and the chill get chillier (unless your kids have practice then you go out twice, but it's not so bad...see above).
It's the day you use lots of hand cream and drink lots of coffee.
Today is the day you put on a big fleece hat and your three year old asks "Is that Grandma's hat?"
It's the day you realize that some people are SOOO motivated that they will walk outside for exercise.
Mostly, though:
Today is the day you are thankful you don't live in Minnesota.
It's the day you wonder why you don't live in Florida.
It's the kind of day that you go out with gloves and a hat and a scarf and you think, "hey it's not so bad," until you notice, after one minute that the part of your face that is exposed is hurting and tingling.
Today is the day that you take your kids to school, because it was too cold to wait outside for the bus, and even though you have a stop in front of your house, and it's 3 degrees at eight in the morning the driver blew right past, even though the kids were waiting at the door.
It's the day where everyone else had the same idea and from entering the school parking lot to exiting took ten minutes.
Today is the day you do not take your seven month old out of the house or car, unless you have an appointment that was pushed off three times already and you must take care of and go, but luckily is pushed off until the time of day when it's a balmy 15 degrees.
It's the day you bless your garage.
Today is the day you make a big stew or soup for supper and hunker down as the day gets darker and the chill get chillier (unless your kids have practice then you go out twice, but it's not so bad...see above).
It's the day you use lots of hand cream and drink lots of coffee.
Today is the day you put on a big fleece hat and your three year old asks "Is that Grandma's hat?"
It's the day you realize that some people are SOOO motivated that they will walk outside for exercise.
Mostly, though:
Today is the day you are thankful you don't live in Minnesota.
It's the day you wonder why you don't live in Florida.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Annoyed by Proxy
I am so perturbed by the lack of concern for other people's time, and the ease in which those in control so easily rationalize it away as being insignificant.
It didn't even happen to me, but if I don't blog about this, I will end up calling my niece's principal, so I think this is a better bet.
My sister, as you all well know by now, lives in Michigan, where the private school population is not large enough to apply pressure to receive busing from the district. Thus, they all carpool their children to and from school everyday. Everyday their children leave at the same time, and are home at the same time, just like on a school bus. Everyday. You get out of school, you get home a set amount of time later. Like clockwork. When your kids are in tenth and twelfth grades, it really is like clockwork, you can plan your schedule accordingly, know that your other carpools will not be impacted, and just generally maintain some order in the evening rush.
Unless one teacher decides to punish her class by keeping them five minutes later at the end of class...at the end of the day without any notice to the parents, and no notice to the other kids in the carpool, so as a punishment to seventeen year olds, who couldn't care less, parents, other kids in the carpool , and younger kids have to suffer.
What's five minutes? Well, if your kid is home at the same time EVERY SINGLE DAY for four years, it's pretty easy to run your life around that, and that includes appointments that hinge on either older kids being home, or being dismissed AT DISMISSAL TIME!!! You may make a choice to leave a younger child at home alone, knowing it will be a set amount of time, but if you have to wait for the five minute punishment plus the three minutes for the kids to get out of the building, that's an eight minute punishment, and that is a significant amount of time, no matter how you try to wish it away.
A punishment at the end of the day shows lack of care or concern for the lives or time of the rest of the family. A claim of "it's just five minutes," proves how callous it really is, because to each person five minutes means different things, and effects the timing of other things as well.
The worst part is the snide reaction from the principal, and the fact that SHE LET THE TEACHER DO IT A SECOND TIME!!!!!
If a kid came "only five minutes late" to class or to school, it would be seriously frowned upon, and perhaps a punishment instituted. I have no problem if a teacher wants to punish a class, it just doesn't have to be that day. The parents should be notified, if you want to give detention, then give it the next day, and if you want to teach these girls a lesson, make it for 30 minutes.
The sad part is so many parents are just sitting back and taking it. It is no wonder the schools don't care.
It didn't even happen to me, but if I don't blog about this, I will end up calling my niece's principal, so I think this is a better bet.
My sister, as you all well know by now, lives in Michigan, where the private school population is not large enough to apply pressure to receive busing from the district. Thus, they all carpool their children to and from school everyday. Everyday their children leave at the same time, and are home at the same time, just like on a school bus. Everyday. You get out of school, you get home a set amount of time later. Like clockwork. When your kids are in tenth and twelfth grades, it really is like clockwork, you can plan your schedule accordingly, know that your other carpools will not be impacted, and just generally maintain some order in the evening rush.
Unless one teacher decides to punish her class by keeping them five minutes later at the end of class...at the end of the day without any notice to the parents, and no notice to the other kids in the carpool, so as a punishment to seventeen year olds, who couldn't care less, parents, other kids in the carpool , and younger kids have to suffer.
What's five minutes? Well, if your kid is home at the same time EVERY SINGLE DAY for four years, it's pretty easy to run your life around that, and that includes appointments that hinge on either older kids being home, or being dismissed AT DISMISSAL TIME!!! You may make a choice to leave a younger child at home alone, knowing it will be a set amount of time, but if you have to wait for the five minute punishment plus the three minutes for the kids to get out of the building, that's an eight minute punishment, and that is a significant amount of time, no matter how you try to wish it away.
A punishment at the end of the day shows lack of care or concern for the lives or time of the rest of the family. A claim of "it's just five minutes," proves how callous it really is, because to each person five minutes means different things, and effects the timing of other things as well.
The worst part is the snide reaction from the principal, and the fact that SHE LET THE TEACHER DO IT A SECOND TIME!!!!!
If a kid came "only five minutes late" to class or to school, it would be seriously frowned upon, and perhaps a punishment instituted. I have no problem if a teacher wants to punish a class, it just doesn't have to be that day. The parents should be notified, if you want to give detention, then give it the next day, and if you want to teach these girls a lesson, make it for 30 minutes.
The sad part is so many parents are just sitting back and taking it. It is no wonder the schools don't care.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Sign of the Times
It says something about the political climate, that I blogged the other day without knowing the facts, and just assumed the shooting in Arizona was politically motivated. It is more likely that it was motivated by a crazy person taking aim at the government (in the form of a Representative), for trying to control his mind.
As a blogger I posted my thoughts before actually delving into the story, and went with what I first thought was the reasoning behind the attack. The fallout from this attack WILL probably be about gun laws, political discourse, and as a side point, mental illness.
This great piece was in the New York Times today. It's worth reading.
There is no question that politics has gotten uglier, and I have to wonder if the Trent Lott-Tom Daschle handshake at the end of the Clinton impeachment vote would happen in today's climate.
Maybe we shouldn't have cross-hairs poised over congressional districts, and maybe we shouldn't try to invalidate elections with spurious claims of foreign birth. Maybe we shouldn't paint one party as selfish rich people looking to trounce on the rights of the poor, as bungling white men trying to destroy women and minorities, and as hopelessly backwards as they cling to values.
Either way, kudos to Arizona for trying to stop Fred Phelps and his sick band of followers from "protesting" at the funerals.
As a blogger I posted my thoughts before actually delving into the story, and went with what I first thought was the reasoning behind the attack. The fallout from this attack WILL probably be about gun laws, political discourse, and as a side point, mental illness.
This great piece was in the New York Times today. It's worth reading.
There is no question that politics has gotten uglier, and I have to wonder if the Trent Lott-Tom Daschle handshake at the end of the Clinton impeachment vote would happen in today's climate.
Maybe we shouldn't have cross-hairs poised over congressional districts, and maybe we shouldn't try to invalidate elections with spurious claims of foreign birth. Maybe we shouldn't paint one party as selfish rich people looking to trounce on the rights of the poor, as bungling white men trying to destroy women and minorities, and as hopelessly backwards as they cling to values.
Either way, kudos to Arizona for trying to stop Fred Phelps and his sick band of followers from "protesting" at the funerals.
I Got A Puppy
OK, not really. I just don't know what else to think.
When I woke up this morning, seven year old came over to me and said "I got the best sleep ever." Now, you need to understand that going to bed, and going to sleep has been a bit of a struggle here with that particular child (actually with a few of them). Last night I washed my hand of the whole thing (it's complicated, but there's a method at play, and I think it's starting to work), and noticed that though she was in her room at around 8 pm, (too late for sure), she was still up at 9 pm (too late, most definitely). You can understand why a statement like "I got the best sleep," was music to my ears.
Then she continued:
"I slept in the laundry room."
Gulp. the 7' x 5' laundry room that has a washer and dryer and two, three section sorters, and just enough floor space apparently for one very small seven year old to bring her blanket and pillow and get the sleep of her life.
Le Sigh...
When I woke up this morning, seven year old came over to me and said "I got the best sleep ever." Now, you need to understand that going to bed, and going to sleep has been a bit of a struggle here with that particular child (actually with a few of them). Last night I washed my hand of the whole thing (it's complicated, but there's a method at play, and I think it's starting to work), and noticed that though she was in her room at around 8 pm, (too late for sure), she was still up at 9 pm (too late, most definitely). You can understand why a statement like "I got the best sleep," was music to my ears.
Then she continued:
"I slept in the laundry room."
Gulp. the 7' x 5' laundry room that has a washer and dryer and two, three section sorters, and just enough floor space apparently for one very small seven year old to bring her blanket and pillow and get the sleep of her life.
Le Sigh...
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Tragedy in Arizona
There are often shooting rampages in this country, where sadly, people are out in their normal daily lives and become unwitting victims of random violence. Some of these stories are harder to comprehend then others. A shooting in a high school seems much harder to wrap your head around than a shooting on an army base. Don't get me wrong they are both awful, just some feel "closer to home."
The shooting in Arizona this weekend is more than just tragic. Aside from the bystanders killed, the target was a US Congresswoman. This is an attack on America. Putting aside the knee jerk reactions we are sure to see from the government that brought us airport shoe removal and liquid bans, this opens a new chapter in the US.
This isn't Mexico, no matter our ideological differences, we don't settle political disagreements with violence. Aside from the horror of it, I am so deeply offended that there are fanatics out there who think they are upholding the ideals of this nation with these acts. I don' believe that we need to fear a rash of these sort of attacks, yet. I do think that some of the rhetoric has gotten too personal and too vitriolic, on both sides of the aisle.
We need to step back and really look at ourselves and the road we may be heading down.
The shooting in Arizona this weekend is more than just tragic. Aside from the bystanders killed, the target was a US Congresswoman. This is an attack on America. Putting aside the knee jerk reactions we are sure to see from the government that brought us airport shoe removal and liquid bans, this opens a new chapter in the US.
This isn't Mexico, no matter our ideological differences, we don't settle political disagreements with violence. Aside from the horror of it, I am so deeply offended that there are fanatics out there who think they are upholding the ideals of this nation with these acts. I don' believe that we need to fear a rash of these sort of attacks, yet. I do think that some of the rhetoric has gotten too personal and too vitriolic, on both sides of the aisle.
We need to step back and really look at ourselves and the road we may be heading down.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Snow Prize Ceremony
We had to improvise a little because the winner of the Snow contest lives in Michigan. SLiM helped out, as a fellow blogger, and presented the award.
Remember, NEXT YEAR THIS CAN BE YOU!!!
Remember, NEXT YEAR THIS CAN BE YOU!!!
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Disaster Averted
Well, it appears that my short, personal nightmare is finally over.
I was informed a few hours ago that my trash was finally taken away, and I have just confirmed that report.
As such, the rampage I had been planning is no longer necessary.
Feel free to breathe a sigh of relief, or to do whatever you typically do upon finding out that the world will not be irrevocably, horrifically changed.
As for me, the mental scars with which this difficult situation have left me will take some time to heal. Hopefully, I will emerge stronger from this unfortunate event, as Fred Nietzsche would have postulated.
Either way, I still will not write the invoice number on my property tax check.
I was informed a few hours ago that my trash was finally taken away, and I have just confirmed that report.
As such, the rampage I had been planning is no longer necessary.
Feel free to breathe a sigh of relief, or to do whatever you typically do upon finding out that the world will not be irrevocably, horrifically changed.
As for me, the mental scars with which this difficult situation have left me will take some time to heal. Hopefully, I will emerge stronger from this unfortunate event, as Fred Nietzsche would have postulated.
Either way, I still will not write the invoice number on my property tax check.
Monday, January 3, 2011
I Don't Have to Take This Garbage, They Do.
Today, I arrived home to discover that my trash had not been picked up, and my two trash bins were overflowing with garbage bags.
To many (read: "normal") people, this is a simple inconvenience. In fact, according to this story, a New York City resident is alive today solely because the trash has not been picked up, due to the recent blizzard.
For me, however, this was a real problem. As FBB can attest, I am absolutely obsessed with getting rid of my garbage. On more than a few occasions, I've asked her to call me at work (or to text me, if I was in a meeting) to confirm that our garbage was picked up. Yes, it's that important to me. From my perspective, this was not a simple oversight. Rather, it was an inexcusable dereliction of duty on the part of the employees of the firm with whom our hamlet contracts to remove our refuse.
Entering my home already in a bad mood (never a good idea), I came across today's mail, sitting in a pile. In an incredibly unfortunate piece of timing, I received my property tax bill today. I quickly tore open the envelope, eager to diagnose the latest despicable manifestation of wealth redistribution in our fair town, and began to peruse the itemized tax invoice. Much to my horror, I discovered that the garbage removal portion of my tax bill had more than doubled since last year.
So, let me get this straight. You people are going to double my garbage tax, and you won't even remove my garbage!?
I honestly cannot remember the last time I was this angry.
This is the last straw. (For that matter, it's also the first. I guess I'm just a one-straw guy).
I recall hearing a story about how a couple in our town, upset that their garbage had not been picked up, brought their garbage to Town Hall and left it there. While that seems like an interesting response, it doesn't go nearly far enough.
If my garbage does not get picked up tomorrow, I am going to embark on a full-fledged rampage, the likes of which people in this area have never witnessed. People will speak of it 20 years hence in hushed tones, and the mere mention of it will give them goosebumps.
At first glance, it appears pretty foolish to announce a forthcoming rampage, but I don't care. Feel free to forward this post to anyone you know in law enforcement or the armed forces. The fury that I plan to unleash will be of such force that they will be utterly powerless to stop me. They will simply prove themselves incapable of resisting my cyclone of rage.
I'm not going to give out any specifics as to my planned actions, but I can assure you that if my tidal wave of destruction is set in motion, it will be both spectacular and horrific.
At a minimum, I can assure you that when I do mail in my property tax payment, I will not write the invoice number in the memo section of the check. And, when I write my return address on the envelope, I will include only my standard, five-digit zip code. These people don't deserve the added courtesy of the Zip+4.
It certainly looks like they messed with the wrong guy this time.
To many (read: "normal") people, this is a simple inconvenience. In fact, according to this story, a New York City resident is alive today solely because the trash has not been picked up, due to the recent blizzard.
For me, however, this was a real problem. As FBB can attest, I am absolutely obsessed with getting rid of my garbage. On more than a few occasions, I've asked her to call me at work (or to text me, if I was in a meeting) to confirm that our garbage was picked up. Yes, it's that important to me. From my perspective, this was not a simple oversight. Rather, it was an inexcusable dereliction of duty on the part of the employees of the firm with whom our hamlet contracts to remove our refuse.
Entering my home already in a bad mood (never a good idea), I came across today's mail, sitting in a pile. In an incredibly unfortunate piece of timing, I received my property tax bill today. I quickly tore open the envelope, eager to diagnose the latest despicable manifestation of wealth redistribution in our fair town, and began to peruse the itemized tax invoice. Much to my horror, I discovered that the garbage removal portion of my tax bill had more than doubled since last year.
So, let me get this straight. You people are going to double my garbage tax, and you won't even remove my garbage!?
I honestly cannot remember the last time I was this angry.
This is the last straw. (For that matter, it's also the first. I guess I'm just a one-straw guy).
I recall hearing a story about how a couple in our town, upset that their garbage had not been picked up, brought their garbage to Town Hall and left it there. While that seems like an interesting response, it doesn't go nearly far enough.
If my garbage does not get picked up tomorrow, I am going to embark on a full-fledged rampage, the likes of which people in this area have never witnessed. People will speak of it 20 years hence in hushed tones, and the mere mention of it will give them goosebumps.
At first glance, it appears pretty foolish to announce a forthcoming rampage, but I don't care. Feel free to forward this post to anyone you know in law enforcement or the armed forces. The fury that I plan to unleash will be of such force that they will be utterly powerless to stop me. They will simply prove themselves incapable of resisting my cyclone of rage.
I'm not going to give out any specifics as to my planned actions, but I can assure you that if my tidal wave of destruction is set in motion, it will be both spectacular and horrific.
At a minimum, I can assure you that when I do mail in my property tax payment, I will not write the invoice number in the memo section of the check. And, when I write my return address on the envelope, I will include only my standard, five-digit zip code. These people don't deserve the added courtesy of the Zip+4.
It certainly looks like they messed with the wrong guy this time.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
A Great Tool
"My Favorite Aunt," (who does not read the blog, but another aunt might, so I hope she notices the quotation marks, and remembers that she is the original and always will be the FaMFA-"Favorite and Most Fun Aunt" {ed. note: all monikers are self proclaimed}) picked up the most spectacular and wonderful tool on the planet.
OK, that might be a bit of hyperbole. However, part of the brilliance of this tool is its simplicity. It's a pomegranate seeder. I seeded each pomegranate in UNDER A MINUTE, my walls and fingers stayed clean, there were no errant arials on the floor leaving streaks of red that unsuspecting husbands come home to and think someone has chopped off a few digits throughout the day.
By the way, pomegranates get a bad rap as far as staining clothing. It is completely untrue. As someone who has spent the last several weeks seeding MANY, MANY pomegrantes by hand (before FA bought the tool and lent it top me-fear not I purchased it for myself...and a few others), I can say with complete assurance that it definitely comes out of clothing through normal laundering. Even white clothing, cuffs, and shirt fronts and the like come out purple free when put through a normal wash load. I'm not sure where the reputation stems from, perhaps in the olden days soaps were different and did not work well on this particular fruit stain. Either way, if you do not have this wonderful product, fear not. You can seed pomegranates and your clothing will survive. I wish I could say the same for my hands. I happen to have very deep grooves on my fingers and palms (not just the five lines everyone has, those faint lines all over your palm? They are not faint on my hand), and regular soap and water does not do the trick. Since it is the winter I have some cracks on my fingertips, so OxiCleaning my hands (which works) is a painful proposition. Basically it looks like I spent a week peeling potatoes.
Anyway, here's a quick video of how it works, two points, however. I don't CUT the pomegranate in half, I score the skin and break it open with my hands. Also, the finished product in the video does not show that some of the white does end up in the receptacle with the seeds. It's still easier and quicker to seed it this way then any other I have tried.
ENJOY!!!!
OK, that might be a bit of hyperbole. However, part of the brilliance of this tool is its simplicity. It's a pomegranate seeder. I seeded each pomegranate in UNDER A MINUTE, my walls and fingers stayed clean, there were no errant arials on the floor leaving streaks of red that unsuspecting husbands come home to and think someone has chopped off a few digits throughout the day.
By the way, pomegranates get a bad rap as far as staining clothing. It is completely untrue. As someone who has spent the last several weeks seeding MANY, MANY pomegrantes by hand (before FA bought the tool and lent it top me-fear not I purchased it for myself...and a few others), I can say with complete assurance that it definitely comes out of clothing through normal laundering. Even white clothing, cuffs, and shirt fronts and the like come out purple free when put through a normal wash load. I'm not sure where the reputation stems from, perhaps in the olden days soaps were different and did not work well on this particular fruit stain. Either way, if you do not have this wonderful product, fear not. You can seed pomegranates and your clothing will survive. I wish I could say the same for my hands. I happen to have very deep grooves on my fingers and palms (not just the five lines everyone has, those faint lines all over your palm? They are not faint on my hand), and regular soap and water does not do the trick. Since it is the winter I have some cracks on my fingertips, so OxiCleaning my hands (which works) is a painful proposition. Basically it looks like I spent a week peeling potatoes.
Anyway, here's a quick video of how it works, two points, however. I don't CUT the pomegranate in half, I score the skin and break it open with my hands. Also, the finished product in the video does not show that some of the white does end up in the receptacle with the seeds. It's still easier and quicker to seed it this way then any other I have tried.
ENJOY!!!!
We Have A Winner!
The S&P 500 Index finished 2010 at 1257.64, representing a gain of 12.8% for the year. This came on top of a 23.5% increase in the Index in 2009, leaving the S&P 500 39.2% higher than its year-end 2008 level. It should be noted that the S&P 500 is still 14.3% below its 2007 closing level.
With that in mind, it's time to announce the winner of the 2nd Annual IcebergCarwash Stock Market Contest.
First, let's re-cap the entries, in the order in which they were submitted:
MBB: 1175.00
7-11 Supporter: 1250.00
Brother Lawyer: 1825.00
rabbim: 1393.88
SLiM: 1300.00
adinurd: 1515.00
Doobie: 1550.00
The winner, with a prediction that came within 0.6% of the actual result, is 7-11 Supporter.
That's a spectacularly accurate prediction, and is very impressive, indeed.
Stay tuned to this space for more information on the prize to be awarded for this year's contest.
As a reminder, there's still time to participate in this year's contest. Please see this post. Entries will be accepted until 9:30 AM EST on Monday, January 3, 2011.
With that in mind, it's time to announce the winner of the 2nd Annual IcebergCarwash Stock Market Contest.
First, let's re-cap the entries, in the order in which they were submitted:
MBB: 1175.00
7-11 Supporter: 1250.00
Brother Lawyer: 1825.00
rabbim: 1393.88
SLiM: 1300.00
adinurd: 1515.00
Doobie: 1550.00
The winner, with a prediction that came within 0.6% of the actual result, is 7-11 Supporter.
That's a spectacularly accurate prediction, and is very impressive, indeed.
Stay tuned to this space for more information on the prize to be awarded for this year's contest.
As a reminder, there's still time to participate in this year's contest. Please see this post. Entries will be accepted until 9:30 AM EST on Monday, January 3, 2011.
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