I Wish I'd Written It . . .

Normally I don't promo products here--especially when I have absolutely zero knowledge of the product or the company. But I tripped over this ad/product narrative at woot.com today and, while it might sound like I wrote it, I didn't. Dammit. So really, I'm not promo-ing a product; just the writing. The product will have to speak for itself.

Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Mini Two-Gig MicroSD

Uh, hey, tech engineers, scientists, and product designers? There’s something we’ve been meaning to talk to you about. We’re thinking it's time to find another project to work on. Please don’t make our memory media any smaller than these Dane-Elec 2GB MicroSD Cards.

We understand that you’ve had a blast figuring out how to cram more and more megabytes into fewer and fewer molecules. Unfortunately, the human hand and the human eye have their limits. We’re perfectly happy to save our data 2GB at a time to these teensy little MicroSD cards. The included adapters bulk ‘em up so they’ll fit into SD card slots and be visible to the naked eye. Alas, you’ll have to use your own tweezers and loupe to get them into the adapters. We can’t imagine any possible reason for making them smaller, unless Dane-Elec decides to go after the lucrative, untapped gnome market.

Sure, it’d be theoretically awesome to save the entire recorded works of the Beatles on a grain of sand, or to load GTA IV from a single silicon atom, or to save all of your daughter’s baby pictures to one of her eyelashes. But since people aren’t getting any smaller (senior citizens and Kirstie Alley excepted), it seems to us that your prodigious talents are better spend pursuing other secrets. Like, say, teleportation. Then you could live in Bermuda and instantly commute to work in Pittsburgh. Or eternal life. That’d be useful. The point is, you needn’t concern yourself with shrinking our memory media anymore. We’ve got these Dane-Elec 2GB MicroSD Cards. We’re good.

Chicken Press

Over the weekend Urban Chickens Sophia and Zsu Zsu had a visit from Michael Procopio, food blogger for the San Francisco Examiner. Not only were the chickens on their best behavior, but Sophia was thoughtful enough to lay an egg just about half and hour before Michael arrived.

The column includes some nice close-ups, including one of their business ends--and c'mon, you know you've always wanted a (sorry, couldn't be avoided) birds' eye view of the business end of a chicken. Or is that a smidge too much of "knowing where your food comes from"?

So go, go! Read Michael's column (Urban Chickens: Do-it-yourself Hen Party) in the San Francisco Examiner! As if seeing the chickens weren't enough, the column is funny and I love the way he writes.

The Return of the $54 Million Pants

Last summer I wrote a post about a DC administrative judge who was suing a dry cleaner for 54 million dollars because they lost his pants.

At issue was a two-word sign on the counter: Satisfaction Guaranteed.

They lost his pants, so he wanted satisfaction: the cost of the pants plus compensation for his "mental suffering, inconvenience and discomfort."

Apparently never having heard the old axiom "a man who represents himself has a fool for a client," Judge Roy Pearson included in his opening statement a smidge of rhetoric: ". . . never before in recorded history have a group of defendants engaged in such misleading and unfair business practices."

Fortunately he lost, though for the owners of the dry-cleaner it was a phyrric victory as they spent more than 80,000$ on legal fees. (Pearson was ordered to pay the court costs, separate from legal fees.) And fortunately for us, but unfortunately for Mr Pearson, the commission that decides whether to reappoint administrative judges was meeting around that time. Surprise! He lost his job a couple of months after the case ended.

Fast forward one year and Surprise! Roy Pearson is suing the District of Columbia for the loss of his job. It's only a million dollars this time, but God only knows who he'll sue for the loss of his marbles.

Fact or Fiction?

Yesterday when I picked Hannah up from school her teacher was busy making a birthday crown. For Hannah. Whose birthday is in October. This is not the first time she’s told people a bit of a tall tale: So far this school year, Hannah has had at least three birthdays; I have given birth four times—once to twin boys; we went to Hollywood so Hannah could audition for a movie; and she used to have a brother, but he died when he was twelve. And these are just the doozies.

As you may have guessed, Hannah has a tough time differentiating between fact and fiction. That or she’s already figured out that fiction is often way more entertaining. Assuming that her flights of fancy don’t hurt anyone or result in a visit from CPS, I don’t want to crush that spirit. So now whenever I’m not entirely sure about a story (or even sometimes if I’m absolutely certain that it’s not true), I’ll just ask if it’s the truth or her imagination. This worked for a while but now she has started adding “For real Mom!” to the end of pretty much everything.

So as we walked home, pink birthday crown set jauntily on her head, I decided that it was time that Hannah heard the story of The Boy Who Cried Wolf. I even gave her both endings, first “and the wolf ate him” followed by the more benign, Disneyfied version that has Peter running all the way home, the wolf snapping at his heels. “And he never lied again.”

I let it sink in for a minute before asking if she knew what the moral of the story was.

“Well . . . I think probably that he should never go up that mountain again.”

Doodle 4 Google

Doh! How did I miss this?

Yesterday Google announced the winner of this year's Doodle 4 Google contest, in which kids in grades K-12 are challenged to design a Google logo around a particular theme. I love the overall winner, but--even without seeing the K-3 winner, I'm pretty sure that Hannah could have cleaned up in that age group. (Why yes, I am a tad biased. Does it show?)

The Grand Prize for the overall winner, 6th grader Grace (Suryung) Moon, was a 10,000$ scholarship and a 25,000$ technology grant for her school. The winner in each grade group gets a laptop computer.

Someone remind me about this next year. Our school could use that technology grant.

Sit Down and Shut Up!

No, not you. This is for the sub-human morons who are applauding the fact that Ted Kennedy has what is most likely a fatal brain tumor. Assholes. I wouldn't wish that on Karl Rove or Dick Cheney.

Oh, and thanks for making me boost my cuss-o-meter.

The Weekly Dammit, #26

Charlotte's MRI is over, done and clean (more later, because that is definitely not a dammit). My funk is gone (connection?). The Weekly Dammit is back.

Dammit #1:
Throughout the war in Iraq, the Bush administration's advice to We the People was, essentially, to not bother our pretty little heads over it and oh by the way, how about a nice shopping spree. So all this time, while I've been thinking W a doofus, an idiot, a dolt and worse, it never occurred to me that, though he never asked for anything from us, he had quietly been making his own sacrifice: He gave up golf.

Dammit #2:
I can't sign Hannah up for any of the Redwood City summer camps that her friends are going to because she won't be six until October. The camps are geared toward incoming first graders and older, but rules are rules and Hannah is still five. The lovely people at registration did suggest that I put her in one (or more!) of the Pollywogs camps. With the three- to five-year olds. Thanks, but I'm going to give our camp funds to the Cantor Arts Center again.

Dammit #3:
The Gmail blog announced this month that they've been working to get the mail to load faster. Which explains why mine takes three times longer than it used to, when signing on and when trying to refresh. Of course, I probably don't need to refresh since it will do it on its own eventually, but I like the little thrill of anticipation--maybe there will be something new! exciting! profitable! there.

Dammit #4:
Argus has taken to sleeping on our bed again.

Dammit #5:
Charlotte just washed her hands using an entire bottle of soap. While I"m happy that she takes her personal hygiene so seriously, I think that 7.5 ounces of soap might be overkill.

Random Question of the Week

Originally, the question was "How long can one go without writing one's book before one has to stop saying that one is writing a book?"

Instead the question has become: "If one is constantly composing lines, paragraphs and chapters in one's head, does that still count as writing the book even if those lines, paragraphs and chapters don't always make it on to paper?"

I'm going to break tradition and actually answer this one: "Yes!"

Because I feel like less of a slacker that way.

The Bonus Dammit, #25-1/2

Dammit #1:
The San Jose Sharks fired Ron Wilson yesterday. He's won more games than any other Sharks coach and, with 518 wins overall, is eighth in NHL history. Good move.

Dammit #2:
Reading an article in the Washington Post today about the racist attitudes faced by many of Obama's supporters and campaign workers, I couldn't decide which of my reactions was the worst and/or most naive: 1) Shock, that this still happens; 2) Dismay, that this is one of the attitudes being exploited with comments like "hard working, white Americans." By other Democrats; or 3) Fear, of what some are capable of when they are unable to tolerate difference and change.

I've decided to crush those thoughts under my overwhelming joy that, whatever the outcome of the Democratic convention, we are going to have either an African American president, or a woman. So that's the anti-Dammit.

The Dammit, #25

Dammit #1:
That this was an actual, not-trying-to-be-funny (I think) headline in the Washington Post today: "Americans Losing Confidence in Current Leadership."

Dammit #2:
The military junta in control of Myanmar/Burma is seizing the food, water, building supplies and money sent into the country to help those devastated by the cyclone. In some cases they seem to be taking it for themselves, in others to make sure that they are seen as the benevolent rescuers of their people. Some wealthy citizens have reported that they have been prevented from helping their fellow countrymen. The only upside of this is that many of the Burmese people seem to be on to them.

Dammit #3:
Between scheduling summer camps for Hannah, swim classes for Charlotte, a trip to Virginia in June (!) and trying not to worry about Charlotte's MRI, I haven't had much time for Dammits lately. That might seem like a good thing, but I kind of like the Dammits, if only because they're a sign that I'm getting outside of myself. Sure, that's not all that I look for in life, but you can't always write about sunshine and roses; someone is bound to want to punch you. Dammit.

Gollum Lives in My Gym

Gollum lives in my gym, hiding behind her iPod Nano
The elliptical cringes under the relentless desperation
As her legs pump obsessively. The rate never slows
Except to change direction

Gollum’s precious is no longer the ring
Slipped from bony finger, betrayed by howl and shriek
No. Precious is now the noontime shadow
With whom she furiously competes

Gollum lives in my gym, hiding behind her iPod Nano

The Dammit, #24

I'm dropping "Weekly" from the title until I can get my act together and once again start posting this one, well, weekly. Dammit. It's been awhile, so let's get right to it:

Dammit #1:
Magic Wands. The little man still won't (can't?) face the very obvious fact that the economy is in the tank, or that gas prices are hurting a lot of people who don't have access financial resources on par with his own, or that he is now the lowest-rated president in history. (That last one is in part because he believes that, while history will judge his actions, actual presidential historians have no idea what they're talking about or comparing him to.) So what's a poor imbecile to do? Suggest that, if he had one, he might wave the very magic wand which would have kept his core constituency from voting for him in the first place.

Dammit #2:
On the Obama/Rev. Wright issue: People across the country are, at the least, uncomfortable with and at the at the worst, vilifying Barack Obama for not denouncing his former pastor's controversial comments sooner. But after 9/11, Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson blamed the attack on pagans, gays, lesbians, secularists, the ACLU, abortionists and feminists. George Bush eventually declared the comments “inappropriate.” He was slower still to respond to conservative commentator Robert Knight, who laid the blame for Abu Gharib on many of the same groups, and, for good measure, tossed in the porn industry and the military for allowing women in combat zones.

I’ve heard many people say that Obama should be held to a higher standard because he is a history-making candidate and (yes, still) probable Presidential nominee. But why is he held to a higher standard than the current President of the U.S, who had also made history by virtue of being one of the most disliked, distrusted, polarizing presidents we’ve ever had?

Dammit #3:
Charlotte is having an MRI in two weeks. Her appointment time is 1:30 p.m. Because this has to be done under general anesthesia, she can't have any food after midnight, or liquids six hours prior to the procedure. 13+ hours with no food for a three year old. Dammit. That she has to have an MRI: double Dammit. That it's under general anesthesia: triple (or more) Dammit.

Love the Skin You're In

My favorite sister-in-law has many times remarked that she wished for skin like mine. Flattering, but embarrassing, as I’ve always taken it for granted and never given much thought, or wasted much time or money on it. For years my “regimen” was soap and water. I rarely wear makeup and when I do I generally forget to wash it off before I go to bed. But not so long ago I woke up to find that Mother Time had sambaed her way across my face, leaving tiny footprints under my eyes. And with the approach of what will be my fifth California summer, my freckles have banded together on their yearly trek across my cheekbones and nose, this time inviting along several of their heretofore-unknown relatives.

I don’t mind, very much, these subtle signs of aging, but it is disconcerting to still feel 20-ish (29, to be exact) and see an almost-40 year old in the mirror. Stranger still, The Pet Shop Boys, REM and myriad other bands from my youth are now officially antiques. And my 20-year high school reunion allegedly took place last summer.

Recently I’ve upped the amount of time and money I spend dermatologically and have had a couple of professional facials. As a result I have switched to an SPF 15 moisturizer, though at my last visit the esthetician told me that 1) I need to switch again to an SPF 30; 2) I need a moisturizer with vitamins (80$ an ounce from the spa); 3) an intensive moisturizer for my eye area might help with my "laugh" lines (100$ an ounce); 4) my freckles, though charming, are becoming more prominent; and 5) a big hat might be a good investment. I knew most of this already but it didn’t change the fact that the eyebrow burning I got from Elizabeth Arden* was probably less painful than hearing it put so bluntly.

It must appear that I’m not taking this aging thing gracefully, but I really don’t mind it so much. When I was very young I never thought I’d live to see 33 (and no, I don’t know why 33). But my 30s have been very good to me and I’ve never once wished to relive my teenage years. I have much more to show for my not-so-many-after all years than a few lines and blotches, though as I fully expect to live at least another 38 years, I’m sure I’ll revisit the blotches-and-lines issue at least once more.

So to my sister-in-law I say, “Congratulations! You have your wish.” But I must add that I’ve always loved your freckles. Now if only I may grow to have half your goodness and generosity and humor, I’ll be happy indeed.


* Not personally, but that is the name on the door.

AARP, Here I Come!

I got my first old-lady catalog today. Let’s just call it Fight the Heat. And we’re not talking about the environment, either. I almost tossed it before I remembered my age—you know, just like When Harry Met Sally:

Sally: I’m going to be 50! (I know, she said 40; I’m too close to that already)
Harry: When?
Sally: . . . Someday!

So I decided to at least look through it to see what the future holds in store for me.

The models—for dramatic purposes, we’ll say they were all over 60—were attractive but with that I-just-came-from-my-Botox-appointment sparkle. You know the look: skin pulled back tightly giving their unnaturally smooth cheeks and brow that certain shine.

I sighed as I flipped through pages and pages of 21st century muumuus, tummy-reducing/disguising pants, girdles, granny panties and "personal massagers." Wait, what?! Flip, flip back to the center where they proudly feature four pages of personal massagers and other "relationship enhancing" accessories.

They do say that 50 is the new 30, which is a good thing because when my mother was 50, it was the new 80. Whatever it is, I hope my, er, girdle comes in a plain brown box. And that I'll look as good at 40 as these women do at 60.

I Feel Sick

We sold our tickets to the Sharks' opening game of the second round. Why? Because the announced time was 6p.m., this Friday.

One babysitter will be starting her 24-hour cancer walk (she is an amazing kid!). The other wouldn't be able to leave work early enough for us to make it to San Jose in time. So yesterday we sold the tickets.

Today, the time has been changed to 7 p.m., plenty of time to get to San Jose, park and make it to our seats. Which now belong to someone else.

I feel sick.

She's Ready for Her Close Up, Mr DeMille

Hannah's new favorite song is Great Big World from Hoodwinked. Anyone know a talent agent?

Where’s My Coffee?

Recently a coffee company ran a promotion offering bloggers a pound of coffee in exchange for information on coffee consumption and, hopefully, a blog review. Given my little problem, I jumped at the chance, happily forking over information on my coffee-drinking habits: How often do you drink it? (Daily) How much per day? (2-4 cups; often more) How do you take it? (With a little milk) Do you drink flavored coffee? (Not if I can help it) If you could invent a flavor, what would it be? (Chocolate tequila. No really! I’ve had a fantastic white chocolate tequila truffle from Gearhart’s Chocolates in Virginia. Try one--they deliver!)

The coffee never came. Which I didn’t realize until last week, when I received an email to update me on the promotion results. They had compiled all of the answers and thoughtfully included a brief note to the effect of “If you haven’t yet received your coffee, don’t panic! It’s on the way!” Which sounds very much like “The check is in the mail.”

I haven’t written them off yet, but I'd think they would be more interested in a nice review of their coffee rather than a not-so-nice review of the company. The coffee wasn’t actually free after all; it was payment for marketing research.

How to Spot an Addiction

Most of us, if we're honest, have at least one addiction. I have at least three:

Caffeine: Here we have the usual symptoms: headache, slight tremor (I said it was an addiction!) and incessant yawning.

The day of Thomas’s triathlon, I was so worried that there wouldn’t be enough parking that I most reluctantly drove past the only Peet’s I’d seen for miles. My reward was a half-empty parking lot and all of the above-mentioned symptoms. I had no caffeine until Thomas had finished the triathlon and grabbed a Red Bull for me. My first. If it weren’t all sugar, I could easily see getting hooked on that—I felt all sparkly after the first, so of course I had a second. I hear there’s a diet version . . .

Chocolate: See above, minus the yawning, add in extreme daily craving.

I grew up a Catholic and, every year, I would give up chocolate for Lent. And every year I would fail. Perhaps subconsciously I knew that I was not, in fact, a Catholic, though a friend of my mother’s tried to convince me that I would make a marvelous nun.

I’ll wait until you’ve finished laughing.



So how bad is the chocolate addiction? Trader Joe’s sells chocolate covered edamame. I saw it for the first time yesterday and, after my initial “Eeww,” I went back and considered. After all, I’ve never had chocolate covered edamame. And it was Chocolate Covered. In the end I decided against it, but not so much because of the Eeww factor, but because I still have a perfectly good box of chocolate covered espresso beans.

Hockey: See above.

I love hockey. Especially playoff hockey. I was in the crowd when the Sharks lost the season opener to the Calgary Flames. It wasn’t great, but it was OK—six games left, and we got to rip the officiating on the way home. The Sharks won game two. But when they lost the third game after blowing a three-goal lead (all three scored on the first three and a half minutes of the first period), I literally felt sick. Not as sick as after the 2004 elections, but sick. Game four, the Sharks scored two goals in the last five minutes for the win. The final goal came with 9.4 seconds left in the game--and when you're curled up in a miserable ball of anxiety lest the Flames score again and send it to overtime, 9.4 seconds feels like an eternity.

I don’t know what I’m going to do when the season is over.

Thank god they don’t make chocolate-covered hockey pucks.

Do they?

Score for Twitter

I've always thought that Twitter was pretty cool, but for one reason and another, I stopped using it. Today, with an incredible example of just how well--and how quickly--it brings people together, I have a great incentive to start Tweeting again.

From William Brand of the Bay Area News Group:

BERKELEY : When Egyptian police scooped up UC Berkeley graduate journalism student James Karl Buck, who was photographing a noisy demonstration, and dumped him in a jail cell last week, they didn't count on Twitter.

Buck, 29, a former Oakland Tribune multimedia intern, used the ubiquitous short messaging service to tap out a single word on his cellular phone: ARRESTED. The message went out to the cell phones and computers of a wide circle of friends in the United States and to the mostly leftist, anti-government bloggers in Egypt who are the subject of his graduate journalism project.

The next day, he walked out a free man with an Egyptian attorney hired by UC Berkeley at his side and the U.S. Embassy on the phone.

Twitter, the micro-blogging service for cell phone users, allows messages up to 140 characters long. Twitter users can allow anyone they wish to join their network and receive all their messages. Buck has a large network, so Twitter gave him an instant link to the outside world.

He recalls advice from his Twitter friends came in mounds of terse messages, "It was a combination of things, my Egyptian friends told me to play the "American bitch" and try to force my way out. " They also told him that it was no big deal and to just stay calm.

"They use Twitter sort of like an instant wire service," he said. "It's the way they keep in touch with each other. They go to an event and Twitter what's happening.

Meanwhile, U.S. friends on his Twitter net called the university and the American Embassy.

They also alerted the Associated Press, the International Herald Tribune and other media, which helped put the heat on the Egyptian authorities. He was released on Friday and returned home on Sunday.

Back home in Berkeley last night he said he's still worried about his interpreter and friend, Mohammed Salah Ahmed Maree, who was arrested with him and is still being held incommunicado by Egyptian authorities. Unlike Buck, he didn't have the muscle of the U.S. Embassy and UC Berkeley. (read more)

Pretty fantastic. Now how to get Maree out? Go sign the online petition.

Color Me Proud

Thomas completed his first triathlon, the ICE Breaker Triathlon at Granite Bay, CA, on Sunday. He's written a great post about the first part on his blog, Triathlon For TK, but I had the camera and he's out of town, so I'm going to scoop him on the photos.

The place was already a hive of activity well before the girls and I arrived at 8:00 (and only for Thomas would I be up, bathed, dressed, packed and on the road by 7:30 in the morning. If that's not love . . . :)




Getting ready for the swim . . .


which was 1/3 mile from the transition area (uncounted in the official run, of course):


In the transition area, getting ready for the bike ride:


Hannah waited patiently:



Ready to run!



Just 100 yards from the finish! Go, Thomas, go!


And now he's officially a triathlete!

Hold the Soap, Please!

According to the Cuss-O-Meter, my potty mouth is not as bad as I thought--at least not in "print."


Created by OnePlusYou


Thanks, Pranayama mama!

Words Escape Me

I just found this on the website of a company that sells school supplies:

Choose from Isles and Isles of In-Stock Items!
Our Prices the Lowest, our Quality the Highest
and our Stock the Broadest!

The Downside of Speech Therapy

Over the past couple of weeks, Charlotte has experienced an explosive growth in her verbal ability, going from one word and a couple of signs to three word, spoken sentences. We've heard "Thank you, Mommy/Daddy/Haha*," "Help me, please," "Where ball go?," "My book, open," and more. While it may not seem like a big deal, to us it is HUGE. After so long, I will confess it quietly here, I sometimes thought that she would never speak.

And now, sometimes I wish she wouldn't.

At Peet's today, she pointed at another customer, motioned to a chair and said rather loudly, "Girl! Shit! Shit, Girl!"

And to think I was once embarrassed when Hannah kept pointing out the tattoos of random biker chicks.

*"Haha" is Charlotte's new name for Hannah. She had been "Nana" ever since Charlotte started talking but in speech therapy, they use "nana" to get her to "BAnana." Charlotte realized that Hannah was not, in fact, a banana and so would need another name. So Haha it is.

I Went to the Gym Yesterday . . .

Apparently "Pilates" is Greek for "I have muscles where??"

Maybe Attorney General?

John Edwards said today that he would decline a nomination to become the next vice president. He didn't say why, but I wouldn't be surprised if one big reason is that he doesn't much care for the way the candidates have been conducting themselves of late. He's certainly more intelligent and better qualified than a couple of the AGs we've had in the past few years.

Random Question of the Day

Is it odd that a Republican, in the midst of a process in which he must eliminate 19, refer to that process as being "in the embryonic stages"?

Don’t Mess With Jane. Please.

I’ve had a huge girl crush on Jane Austen for many, many years. This crush led me to take a semester-long course on her life and work. The course also included the various necessary-to-make-it count-for-credit types of literary criticism thereof. So imagine my dismay when I recently came across yet another book billed as the sequel to Pride and Prejudice. As ever, my initial reaction was: How dare you?

It’s one thing to make a movie of Pride and Prejudice, or, indeed, any of the novels; the PBS Complete Jane Austen series has sent me running back to the books to marvel at how much of the dialog was lifted directly from those pages—it still sparkles after almost 200 years. But to attempt to co-opt two of the most popular characters in English literary history? How dare you?* So yet again, I’m forced to reject a book by its cover and bet that it will not be remembered 10 years from now, much less 200.


I'm not including in this the "loosely inspired by" works such as Bridget Jones's Diary, and not only because I think I would be drawn and quartered by that work's legions of fans.

Thank You

Thank you to all who emailed to see if I was still here and doing OK. You know what the yawning gaps in posts usually means; I hope you know just how much your concern means to me. But LCM is back, and maybe even with a few Dammits up her sleeve!

Signs of Spring

Hannah and Charlotte are both on spring break this week, which explains both LCM's absence and the not-so-subtle bald patches appearing on my head. Thank goodness their grandparents were here for a few days or I might have pulled out all of my hair by now.

Bonus! I found out today that Hannah has Monday off, too. To quote Lozo in Diggers, "It's not that I don't love the little #$%^ers . . . "

The Delegate Debacle

Yesterday, Hillary Clinton said that "she absolutely would not accept a negotiated apportionment of Florida delegates." [Washington Post] Of course she wouldn't because her "win" would give her another 38 delegates and at this point, both candidates are scrambling for every one they can get.

Her quote:

"In my view there are two options: Honor the results or hold new primary elections."

I'd like to mention a third option:

HONOR THE DECISION OF THE DNC THAT BOTH FLORIDA AND MICHIGAN WOULD BE STRIPPED OF THEIR DELEGATES FOR VIOLATING PARTY RULES. No one gets any of the delegates.

It is inconceivable to me that either state would be allowed to seat their delegates. They were warned of the consequences; all candidates agreed to forgo campaigning in those two states, and Barack Obama wasn't even on the ballot in Michigan. Why? Because he was playing by the rules.

So aside from the shouted option above, the only "fair" way to do this is to split the delegates 50/50 just to shut everyone up. But if the delegates are seated, thus proving that there is no real punishment for a violation of DNC rules, what's to prevent any state from moving their primaries to the September or October the year prior to the the next general election? In that case we'll all have to be doubly grateful that email is easier to get rid of than direct mail.

File Under Arrogance

Hillary Clinton, through Bill (a guy I used to like and hopefully will again), has "graciously" offered Barack Obama the VP slot on the ticket. Obama's perfect response:

"First of all, with all due respect, I've won twice as many states as Sen. Clinton. I've won more of the popular vote than Sen. Clinton. I have more delegates than Sen. Clinton. So, I don't know how somebody who's in second place is offering the vice presidency to somebody who's in first place."

Paging Mrs Baker

After a year or so of fielding calls for for a Terry Barnes, who apparently owed a lot of people a lot of money, I finally gave in and changed our home number. I'm not talking about a few random calls, either. I've taken calls from collectors--lots of those--but also from a few attorneys' offices and once from a detective. He's the one who told me about the large civil suit. He also suggested that I change the phone number. At that point, I didn't think it was too much of a problem and--silly me--that eventually people would stop calling after a few repetitions of "I'm sorry, there's no Terry Barnes here. No, I'm not Mrs Barnes."

But at long last, I decided that enough was really enough, so I made the call.

The process was pretty easy, though I didn't realize that you could actually choose from a series of numbers. And because Robin from AT&T knew why I was changing the number, she searched for a while t0 find the one that had been out of service the longest.

One week after I changed the number, let our families know that we weren't hiding from them, and updated all of our contacts, it began anew.

"Hello? No, I'm sorry, you have the wrong number. No, there is no Mrs Baker here. Excuse me? (sigh) No, no Mr Baker, either."

The Weekly Dammit, #23

I've been sick for a week or so, but now that the antibiotics, Advil and Sudafed have kicked in, the Weekly Dammit is back! Though I might need to drop the "Weekly."

Dammit #1:
I got sick 10 days ago and finally went to the doctor today. I think this is something that pretty much every mom does. If it were one of the kids, I would have taken them to the doctor in a heartbeat. But I wait ten days to find out that I have an ear and a sinus infection, and as a bonus, that my heart rate issue is probably due to my "deconditioning."

Dammit #2:
In the aftermath of their breakup, conservative writer and former Fox News pundit, Rachel Marsden, released personal emails and "salacious chats" from Wikipedia founder, Jimmy Wales. She's also using eBay to sell what she says are clothes he left at her home.

In my favorite part of the San Jose Mercury News article, she says "My only focus right now, to be really honest, is on my career and finding a way to get back into print, TV or radio here in NYC. All of this other personal stuff is just an unfortunate distraction."

I'm guessing that she's still in Fox News mode and that what she really meant was that the "personal stuff" she tossed out there was a fabulous way to get her name back on radar.

Dammit #3:
Hillary Clinton and her campaign want to get delegates from Michigan and Florida seated at the national convention in Denver this summer. This in spite of the fact that all candidates agreed, long before the primary season began, to abide by the decision of the DNC: because both Michigan and Florida moved their primaries up to January, they would be stripped of their delegates. Whether you call it moving the goalposts or switching horses midstream, it's cheating and poor sportsmanship. And yes, I would say that if we were talking about Barack Obama's campaign.

Dammit #4:
When a telemarketer or other unknown number appears on my sister's caller ID, her kids fight to be the first to answer the phone with "Thank god you called! The pigs are out!" before hanging up. Why didn't I think of that?!

Doctors' Comments On Patient Charts

Happy Monday!

• "Patient has chest pain if she lies on her left side for over a year."

• "On the 2nd day the knee was better and on the 3rd day it disappeared completely."

• "The patient has been depressed ever since she began seeing me in 1993."

• "Discharge status: Alive but without permission."

• "Healthy appearing decrepit 69 year-old male, mentally alert but forgetful."

• "The patient refused an autopsy."

• "The patient has no past history of suicides."

• "Patient has left his white blood cells at another hospital."

• "Patient's past medical history has been remarkably insignificant with only a 40 pound weight gain in the past three days."

• "Patient had waffles for breakfast and anorexia for lunch."

• "She has had no rigors or shaking chills, but her husband states she was very hot in bed last night."

• "She is numb from her toes down."

• "While in the ER, she was examined, X-rated and sent home."

• "The skin was moist and dry."

• "Occasional, constant, infrequent headaches."

• "Patient was alert and unresponsive."

• "She stated that she had been constipated for most of her life, until she got a divorce."

• "I saw your patient today, who is still under our car for physical therapy."

• "The patient was to have a bowel resection. However, he took a job as a stockbroker instead."

• "Patient has two teenage children but no other abnormalities."

• "Skin: Somewhat pale but present."

• "Patient was seen in consultation by Dr. Blank, who felt we should sit on the abdomen, and I agree."

• "By the time he was admitted, his rapid heart stopped, and he was feeling better."

• "The patient was in his usual state of good health until his airplane ran out of gas and crashed."

• "When she fainted, her eyes rolled around the room."

• "Patient was released to outpatient department without dressing."

• "The patient will need disposition, and therefore we will get Dr. Blank to dispose of him."

• "The patient expired on the floor uneventfully."

Random Question of the Week

Being a parent means making a few sacrifices, some more painful than others. That's why "they" always say "You know you're a parent when . . ."

You know you're a parent when you give up the last week of Chocolate Month at Copia in Napa Valley for a birthday party at Chucky Cheese. If it's not done willingly does that make you less of a parent, even if there was only the slightest chance you'd be able to go to Copia anyway?

Just for fun, a bonus question! Chucky Cheese is the promised land for kids, the place where a kid can be a kid. So why are the bathrooms sized for adults? No short sinks, no small potties, and the bathroom doors are heavy enough that some adults have trouble opening them.


Well, this is titled "Random!"

More Hannah-isms

(After Charlotte's birthday party)
Mommy, what was the name of that man that was here?

Me:
Do you mean Ayla's Daddy?

Hannah:
Yes! I really, really like him! He is the best Daddy ever . . . " (sees Thomas) "Oh! except you Daddy. YOU'RE the smartest, strongest Dad ever!"

Nice save, Hannah.

* * * *

Hannah:
"I just shaved my nuts!"

Me:
"Er, um? What? You just did what?

Hannah:
"I scraped the chocolate off the peanuts!"

* * * *

I think I'm going to be an actress. I don't think it's very hard to do. I'll just work on my skills, you know, my singing and dancing and then I can be an actress when I'm six. I'll still be pretty young then, right Mom?

A Rose by Any Other Name

Since I'm bipolar (ii) and a Gemini, is it OK that I find Valentines Day to be simultaneously sweet and annoying? I know I can't be the only one who finds it odd that we're supposed to have a one day, nationwide love-in. Wouldn't it be better if we tried to stretch that out a little, say over the entire year?

But then, I do like giving presents and, ok, if we're being honest, I like getting them, too. But all of the anxiety-inducing marketing hype makes it seem as though your relationship is doomed if you don't find THE gift. And then there are the flowers and the chocolate and the food. (Chocolate is of course welcome at anytime of the year, though I am a bit snooty about brand and quality.) But let's stick with the flowers for now.

Bloom in New York is offering some stunning floral arrangements--to the tune of 275$ for 20-25 flowers. The Flower Shop in San Francisco has a somewhat uninspired looking arrangement with a dozen long stem roses for a mere 85$. Red of course. But an article published in Ireland's Independent shows that the madness isn't just in the U.S.: There the price for a dozen roses has doubled, to about 100€, which translates to about 150$US.

Rose and Radish in San Francisco offers a much more romantic option: Flower Subscriptions. My favorite is the Spontaneous Flower Subscription. It'll still set you back, but they'll send stunning arrangements at random intervals--no pressure to have them on THE DAY. Better still? When the flowers (Gerbera daisies) or chocolate (a West Coast version of Gearhart's) or CDs or books are brought home on random occasions. And it's not a one-way street so every once in a while I'll bring Thomas a nice chocolate stout.

And just one last fun note: The jeweler where we got my engagement ring had this bumper sticker on the inside of the vault door: "If she's not going to live forever, why give her a diamond?"

Addition to the Blog Roll

I've just added a site called DIY Father to my blog roll. I found them because one of the founders found me. They have a lot of great info on raising kids (in New Zealand, but I think it translates!), all from the father's perspective. It's nice to see it from that angle and to see, too, how so much of what we tend to think of as "mothering" truly is the more universal "parenting."

So, go. Visit. Show them some love! Feel free to tell them I sent you, since I know that my readers are the kindest, most polite people in existence. Yes, all nine of you.

Music to His Ears

Singer will.i.am on why he turned Barack Obama's speech Yes, We Can into song:

i was captivated...

Inspired...

I reflected on my life...
and the blessings I have...
and the people who fought for me to have these rights and blessings...

and I'm not talking about a "black thing"
I'm talking about a "human thing" me as a "person"
an American...

That speech made me think of Martin Luther King...
Kennedy...
and Lincoln...
and all the others that have fought for what we have today...

what America is "supposed" to be...

freedom...
equality...
and truth...

and thats not what we have today...
we think we are free...
but in reality terror and fear controls our decisions...

this is not the America that our pioneers and leaders fought and
died for...

Here's the video:

Edwards Kingmaker?

A couple of posts over at MOMocrats reminded me of something I'd made a mental note of and then brushed aside. On January 30, John Edwards said that he was "suspending" his campaign and that he was "stepping aside." Not that he was "ending" his campaign or that he was "bowing out." He's an attorney and, by all accounts, a brilliant one. The word choice couldn't have been arbitrary.

A lot of people still voted for him yesterday, and there are a lot of absentee ballots yet to be counted. I know the math doesn't work for him to get the nomination, but in a race this tight he could end up as kingmaker.

Ah, I Love the Smell of a Primary in the Morning

I will freely admit that I am addicted to national politics. I try but can't get away from it--not that anyone has been able to for the past few months. How bad is it? Let's just say that election season is the only time I don't mind as much the random phone calls from those eager to sell their product, aka: candidate. Sick, no?

Thus far, with the exception of a letter writing event for Mark Warner's run for governor of Virginia, I've managed to confine my enthusiasm to a small anti-W bumper sticker, minor rants to (at) friends and family, and the occasional letter to the editor. Because I'm not as lucid in person as I sometimes am on paper, and tend to be a bit, ok a lot, anxious when speaking to people I don't know, I've only watched the game from afar. But this year has been electric--even people who don't normally care at all have found themselves glued to their TVs to watch the debates and even signing up to volunteer with campaigns.

Although this particular campaign seems to have been going on since W's last inauguration, it took me a long time to decide on a candidate. I have enormous respect for Hillary Clinton's intellect and work ethic. I don't, however, like the fact that she is the one thing that can reunite the disparate wings of the Republican Party. Nor do I like the feeling that she and her supporters would throw under the bus anyone and anything who tried to get in her way. We've had way too much of that over the past couple of decades. I like Barack Obama, but feared that he needed more experience and more substance. John Edwards, for reasons mentioned before, was my favorite, even though he'd already tried and failed. But with him gone, and my absentee ballot blessedly missing, what to do?

I woke up this morning feeling like I was spending a first date at Christmas on a roller coaster.
Up until I actually filled in the ballot, I wavered between Clinton and Obama. But in the end I chose Obama's because he is such a wonderful blast of fresh air that it seems possible to blow away the cobwebs of the Bush II nightmare, scrub off the grime and find a new day. Of course it didn't hurt that he has some great ideas, too.

Where is Elizbeth?

I've been worried about Elizabeth Edwards over the past couple of weeks. She hasn't been anywhere near as visible on the campaign trail as in the past. She was with John in New Orleans today, of course, but otherwise, not so much. Anyone know? But here's hoping it's not bad news.

The Weekly Dammit, #22

'Tis the eternal season of political nightmares, so I'll start there:

Dammit #1:
John Edwards bowed out today. He had the most comprehensive, detailed platform on issues ranging from the environment to education, veterans affairs to jobs creation and solving poverty in America. He is a champion of the middle and lower classes, and, no it does not (should not, anyway) matter that he made a boat load of money and had a huge house. In his mind, it is right and good that those who have had (or made) opportunities--and done very--well extend a hand and help others up the ladder.

Dammit #2:
This one rates as a Super Dammit: A caller to the NPR program, Talk of the Nation, described himself as "a long-time white male Democrat" who would vote for Hillary if she were the eventual nominee, but never for Barack Obama. He would vote for John McCain instead, as would many of his friends. The reason? The perceived lack of substance to Obama's plans. Oh, and they can't bring themselves to vote for a black man.

Dammit #3:
In California, if you register party affiliation as "Decline to State" (VERY different from "Independent"), absentee voters have to request a Democratic or American Independent ballot in order to vote in the presidential primary. Thomas dropped our forms off two weeks ago, getting his new ballot same day because he took them the Decline to State ballot. They "lost" my paperwork, so after a few phone calls, I find that I can 1) just go to the polling place and vote there, or wait for the new ballot, mail it back and not have my vote counted for three days.

Dammit #4:
We're leaving for Disneyland on Friday morning and, after a very healthy month or so, Hannah and I are both sick. Thomas seems to have avoided the worst of it, possibly because he's been working a lot as well as training for a triathlon. Charlotte is still healthy because, after 18 months of physical therapy she is much stronger than the rest of us. Which, by the way, is an anti-Dammit :)

Hannah’s First Ditch Day

We went to Disneyland over Super Bowl(R)(TM)(C) weekend last year—the first time for me as well as for the girls—and it was so much fun. We lucked out twice: first because the park was sparsely attended, what with the Big Game(R)(TM)(C) and all, and second because the weather was almost too nice—sunny and hot. We had to buy shorts and hats for the girls. We decided to take a chance on the weather and go again this year. I am SO excited! Ahem. Of course by that, I mean that I am excited to see Hannah’s reaction when we tell her why she doesn’t have to go to school on Friday. It’s actually kind of silly how excited I am to tell her, to see her beautiful little face light up. (Charlotte already knows, but Hannah misinterprets the signs “mouse” and “house/home” as Charlotte saying that she wants to watch Mickey Mouse Playhouse.)

I could have just called Hannah in sick on Monday, but at my age I felt completely ridiculous lying to a teacher—not that I was ever good at it anyway. There was also the certainty that Hannah would go in on Tuesday screaming, “I went to Disneyland!” So I finally worked up the nerve to ask if it was sort of, maybe, ok if we, you know, hypothetically speaking, took Hannah out of school for a day to go to Disneyland. After laughing at me, Mrs. B assured me that it would be ok, to just call Hannah in sick on Monday. I decided to push my luck by coming back a couple of days later, saying that we might want to leave on Friday morning instead of afternoon. So, you know, Hannah wouldn’t be in on Friday either.

I already liked Mrs. B, but I will now say without hesitation that she is the teacher I would have liked to have when I was a child. And saying “It’s kindergarten—just go already!” was just icing.

The Year's Sweetest Words

"This evening, President George Bush delivered the last State of the Union address of his administration." --Countless News Anchors across the US and around the world.

I'm saving my rendition of "Ding dong the witch is dead . . ." for another 12 months. In the meantime, I'll be hoping against hope that W doesn't find another way to try to get us all killed in the little time he has left in office.

The Weekly Dammit, #21

Dammit #1:
When I got my first paycheck for my work on Mixx.com, Thomas bought me a pair of SHURE sound canceling earphones. I have small ears so the buds don't fit. None of them. Which means I can still hear Mickey Mouse Playhouse unless I turn my volume way up.

Dammit #2:
Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama aren't doing themselves any favors with the intensified sniping at one another. I experienced an incredible sinking feeling when I watched the debate in South Carolina, the same sort of feeling I get whenever I realize that the Democrats have found a new way to shoot themselves in their collective ass. Perhaps there's a less-than secret reason their mascot is a donkey.

The bright spot, when he finally got a word in edgewise:

JOHN EDWARDS: "Are there three people in this debate, not two? I also want to know, I also want to know, of behalf of voters here in South Carolina, this kind of squabbling, how many children is this going to get health care? How many people are going to get an education because of this? How many kids are going to be able to go to college because of this? We have got to understand, you know, and I respect both of my fellow candidates, but we have got to understand this is not about us personally, it is about what we are trying to do for this country, and what we believe in."

Dammit #3:
I'm letting Charlotte watch TV while I write this.

Dammit #4:
The real reason Charlotte is watching TV is because I'm trying to catch up on my homework for my life coach. Which I put off again.

Dammit #5:
I went to the gym last night for the first time in . . . . I think I damaged my heart. I kept ending up at my regular walking pace on the elliptical. In case you were wondering, that's not a good thing: At one point my heart rate was at 171--albeit briefly.

Dammit #6:
Heath Ledger. Dammit. Idiot.

Today's Random Question

Why do the people who write death notices (not the official obituary) for a ninety-five year old person use the phrase "Cause of death not given"?

The (Used to Be) Weekly Dammit, #20

Where does the time go? Wherever it went, I didn't see The Dammit there. So let's see if I remember how to do this:

Dammit #1:
There is no The Weekly Dammit #18. Well, technically there is, but I never actually published it. It exists only as a draft. It was FABULOUS but now hopelessly out of date.

Dammit #2:
Apparently the Bush administration played a round of "Is Your IT director Smarter Than a Fifth Grader" and lost. Assuming the overwriting of back up disks containing two years worth of email and other information was unintentional. Yeah, yeah. That's it. Unintentional.

Dammit #3:
I hired a life coach to help me work through the "do I want to finish my book and keep freelancing or get a regular job" thing. I really like her but she keeps giving me homework. Which I keep forgetting until the night before. I never wanted to go back to high school and here I am paying someone for that same vaguely panicky feeling . . .

Dammit #4:
That whole Iranian Revolutionary Guard thing in the gulf may actually have been a hoax. And the Pentagon says it didn't say it was actually the Iranians saying "I am coming to you . . .You will be exploded in minutes." It does, however, still appear that it was the IRGC's boats. Seriously--does this shit ever end?

Random Question of the Day

Does "Dermatologist tested" mean "Tested on dermatologists, not rats"?

Beecause Every Monday Needs a Good Laugh

Washingtonpost.com's Dan Froomkin pulls together some of the more amusing? maddening? mind-boggling? quotes from W in advance of his Middle East tour:

"I can predict that the historians will say that George W. Bush recognized the threats of the 21st century, clearly defined them, and had great faith in the capacity of liberty to transform hopelessness to hope, and laid the foundation for peace by making some awfully difficult decisions," Bush told Yonit Levi of Israel's Channel 2 News. Bush held several interviews with Middle Eastern journalists last week in anticipation of his trip to the region, which starts tomorrow.

"When he needed to be tough, he acted strong, and when he needed to have vision he understood the power of freedom to be transformative," Bush said of himself to Nahum Barnea and Shimon Shiffer of the Israeli newspaper Yediot Ahronot.

As for the people of the Middle East, Bush told Hisham Bourar of al-Hurra Television: "I would hope that they would say President Bush respects my religion and has great love for the human -- human being, and believes in human dignity."

The Bush record, the president told Nadia Bilbassy-Charters of al-Arabiya Television, is one of liberation -- "liberation, by the way, not only from dictatorship, but from disease around the world, like HIV/AIDS or malaria."

On a personal basis, Bush told Bilbassy-Charters that he hopes that people would know "that he hurts when he sees poverty and hopelessness" and "that he's a realistic guy."

Check out the blog post for more!

Lessons Learned

We're having some nasty weather in the Bay Area today. And yesterday, with more to come tomorrow. Heavy rain and winds gusting to 71 miles an hour, with several feet of snow being dumped in the mountains. Nothing like a little bad weather to teach you a few lessons (well, except a precocious five year old).

So, to the lessons:

1. Chickens don't like rain.
2. Chickens don't dislike rain enough to resist the potentially suicidal temptation to dig a lake under their food bowls.
3. Twice.
4. The bucket of mulch I had been planning to put in the garden was perfect for filling in Lake Sophia/ZsuZsu.
5. Low-rise pants are not the best to wear in a driving rainstorm.
6. My water-resistant jacket isn't.
7. 50-mile an hour wind gusts are not enough to take down the neighbor's bug- and disease-infested apple tree.
   

Feeling Optimistic

Putting aside the question of what if any influence they should have on presidential elections, the Iowa caucuses are finally over.

Barack Obama, First place
John Edwards, Second
Hillary Clinton, a surprising Third

I would have preferred the order Edwards, Obama, Clinton, but this will do for now. It's not that I don't think Hillary would do a good job. I think that I think that she might. Do a good job. And it's not that I'm looking for the warm fuzzies--we had too many idiots vote for another idiot just because they thought he might be fun to have a beer with. So, no, not looking for the warm fuzzies or a cold beer. But, though I love Bill and would vote for him again tomorrow (assuming he wasn't running on a platform of "change"), I don't know that I trust Hillary, or the idea that she can make things in Washington any different than they have been for the past couple of (few?) decades.

I like John Edwards, and Barack Obama runs a close, close second. (Of course, if Joe Biden could keep his feet out of his mouth except when he's orating, he'd be higher on my list.) I don't, however, see how Edwards, Obama, or anyone else, is going to get us out of Iraq immediately. Whether or not it was ever a Pottery Barn policy: We broke it. We need to find a way to fix it and I don't think just packing up and leaving is going to work. And not because some terrorist somewhere is going to see it as a sign of weakness, but because we broke it and we can't just leave it.

So now what? It's the economy, stupid. It's the war, stupid. It's the environment, stupid . . .

But I can't really complain; no matter who I like more right now, Edwards, Obama and Clinton are all superb candidates. The second most important thing to remember is that GWB is on his way out.

Interior Design for the Dollhouse Crowd

One of the few things I dislike about our house is that, while we have three bathrooms, we all share the one bathroom on the main floor. For Thomas, I guess the worst part is that, well, he has to share a bathroom with three females. For me, it’s the eternal game of hide-and-seek with my personal care products.

When I’m in need, I must first go calling at one of the two established dollhouses, and then check in at the myriad shanties that pop up over night like little pink mushrooms. (Shoeboxes, hats, baskets, etc.) If I don’t move quickly or quietly enough, the trip is accompanied by little shrieks of “But Mommy! That’s the CUSHION for the SOFA!” Or “NO!! That’s NOT a tampon! It’s a PILLOW!” God only knows where the new heads for my Venus razor might be—or to what purpose they have been put.

Yes, the tampons are bolsters. The panty liners are sofa cushions—and look! Reversible! See? If you take off the little pink covers you can make a nice, long, comfy white cushion! Now if only the pink cushions stuck as well to the furniture . . .

It matters not where I put them: There is no place to hide anything that my little magpies might be able to use in a new interior design scheme. And I just found the razor heads: Individually packaged, they make excellent coffee and side tables.

Steve Jobs vs RIAA?

From today's Washington Post, in an article about the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA) using the federal court system in an attempt to stop digital music sharing:

" . . . in an unusual case in which an Arizona recipient of an RIAA letter has fought back in court rather than write a check to avoid hefty legal fees, the industry is taking its argument against music sharing one step further: In legal documents in its federal case against Jeffrey Howell, a Scottsdale, Ariz., man who kept a collection of about 2,000 music recordings on his personal computer, the industry maintains that it is illegal for someone who has legally purchased a CD to transfer that music into his computer."

CDs sales are down and consumers--and some artists--are looking for ways to avoid these traditional (aka: old) media companies altogether. So the answer is to sue the pants off of college students and now people who are actually purchasing the CDs and copying them to their own computers? Brilliant.

So when does Steve Jobs enter the picture? If the RIAA wins this suit, will they then claim that, once a song or album is purchased and downloaded through a service such as iTunes, the consumer is not legally permitted to then transfer that song or album from their computer to their iPod? Maybe, but I'd put my money on Steve and the 100 million or so of my fellow iPod users.

Christmas With the In-laws

I adore my mother- and father-in-law, but I know that many, many people were not so fortunate in that little lottery. Take, for instance, my friend who, for obvious reasons, must not be named. He sent me this:

Xmas Day Itinerary:

8:00-10:59: I enjoy a great Christmas morning with my wife and daughter
11:00: In-laws show up
11:01: First bottle of wine is secretly opened
11:02: I pour a glass of wine into the mug I was using for coffee to avoid detection
1:20: In-laws have now settled in, no thoughts of leaving in the next 10 hours
1:30: First bottle of wine is long gone as well as a beer or two. I tell everyone that I'm going to open a bottle of wine and ask if anyone wants a glass, fully aware of the answer: No
1:35: I grab a wine glass, but keep my coffee mug behind a picture on an end table, just in case
2:30: Dinner starts
2:45: I finish eating
4:44: In-laws finish eating
5:00: Brother-in-law's girlfriend's family shows up, including her neurotic sister, her boyfriend—who I don't know—and their punk-ass teenagers
5:00:30: I lock up the valuables and hide my car keys and wallet
5:01: Not sure of the count, but another bottle of wine is opened.
5:03: Everything kind of starts over again but with the new players
5:15: "Drunk Dialing" friends from the garage begins
6:30: Mean looks from the wife because I'm ignoring her family. My excuse: why change now? Plus it's nearly impossible to get a word in edgewise not to mention my diminishing motor skills
7:30: The guests are in all here. I've switched to Sam Adams because my teeth are purple
9:00: I call a friend for the second time, envious because his day has long been over.
9:01 - 11:00: Does it matter? I won't remember anyway.
11:00: People start to leave
11:30: The same people are still leaving
12:00: Everyone has left
12:15: Mother in law calls to say good night for the tenth time

In Need of a Laugh?

Try this:

Top 278 Star Wars Lines Improved By Replacing A Word With "Pants"

Though I appreciate the effort, I'm surprised the list stops at 278. Certainly couldn't have been for a lack of material.*

But anyway: You're welcome!


*Apologies for the completely unintentional pun.

Mac and PC Meet Santa

Ho Ho Ho!

The Weekly Dammit, #19

After a lengthy hiatus, it's back! C'mon, you know you missed your Weekly Dammit.

Dammit #1:
Holy crap! It's actually been a month since the last Dammit. I'm blaming it on work, changes to Charlotte's schedule, a trip to Georgia for Thanksgiving . . . Or we could just go with laziness.

Dammit #2:
Mike Huckabee once advocated quarantine for AIDS patients. And said that Hollywood stars should fund HIV/AIDS research from their own pockets. Guess who's ahead in the Iowa and South Carolina polls?

Dammit #3:
Normal people come with "irrelevance filters." That means that they can actually concentrate and generally have much better memories. To paraphrase myself from a comment on Mixx.com, if you didn't come with said filters factory installed, can you buy them?

Dammit #4:
A slice of pumpkin pie (1/8 of a pie and who eats only that?) has 320 calories and 15 grams of fat. On the positive side, it also has 7 grams of fiber.

Why . . .

Why does Mitt Romney, or any other candidate, need to give a major speech to say that they will govern as an American and not let their religion be an issue? We can answer that with another question: Why do so many Americans think it necessary for any and all candidates to believe in God, and more specifically, Jesus Christ?

The most problematic portion of the speech, for me, was this: "Freedom requires religion, just as religion requires freedom" and "Americans acknowledge that liberty is a gift of God, not an indulgence of government." I see liberty as being a gift from the founding fathers, and everyone else who put their necks on the line--literally--to gain independence from England. It's also a gift from every single one of the military people who leave their families, for months, and even more than a year at a time, to protect all Americans and our way of life. I'm pretty sure they don't sort us out by religion as to who is more deserving of that protection. Nor are all military personnel Christian.

But what about those who do not accept Jesus Christ as their personal savior? I would never vote for or against a candidate based solely on religion. I want to know what s/he is going to do about the economy; how to handle the Iraqi problem in a decent and moral way; how to get math and science scores back up so Americans can be more competitive in the global marketplace; how to bring more jobs back in the US; how to handle the environmental crisis; as well as a few other issues I can't think of at the moment.

Basically, I don't care if a candidate is Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Mormon or any other religion--nor do I care if a candidate is agnostic or atheist. What matters is not who they worship, or if they worship, what matters is how they will govern and whether religious beliefs will influence how they govern. It is a very sad state when candidates for elected office feel that is has become such an important issue that they ask reporters follow them to Sunday (or Saturday) services.

We've spent seven years with a president who wears his religion on his sleeve, to the point of having evolutionary science demoted to a "theory," abstinence only programs promoted both here and abroad, the Supreme Court packed with ideologues, though what we were ostensibly looking for was judges who would not legislate from the bench. Because that's a bad thing--but only if you're a Democrat.

Mommy Has a Potty Mouth

When I was a child, as punishment for swearing, I had my mouth washed out with soap. Twice, and neither time was deserved:

The first: My oldest sister kept telling me to "Copy what I say! Say it after me!" Once she got me to say "dammit," she tattled and I had my first taste of Ivory soap.

The second: I had stayed home from school, but apparently a cold is not an excuse to sleep, so Mom put me to work. While cleaning out the pantry, I started singing a little song. Rhyming the word "lucky" as you make your way through the alphabet will also get your mouth washed out with soap.

In the first case, I was five. In the second, not more than seven.

After that, I didn't really swear until college--yes, the occasional "dammit" but definitely not the f-bomb. And unless you've waited tables, you probably didn't know that the job came with an advanced degree in the fine art of swearing (MFAS). Off the floor, the cures fly thick and fast and, before I knew it, I had picked up the habit which has proved harder to break than smoking. But now that whole "do as I say and don't repeat what I say" thing isn't going to work anymore, as Hannah pointed out on our flight to Georgia for Thanksgiving.

Me: "Dammit! The seat is broken! . . . . . Oh, um, remember: that's one of those words that you're not supposed to say."

Hannah: "Well then, maybe you shouldn't say it either."

Point taken.

So now I have my New Years Resolution chosen for me, and early at that. The trouble is that I'm not good at sticking to the things that are supposed to make me better in some way: losing weight, working out, reading more, writing my book, quitting my foolish competition with European wine drinkers . . . . So how the he ck am I supposed to stop swearing?

Some people, I've heard, charge themselves a quarter and then buy a reward for reaching certain goals. But what? Dessert? No--this would just bring us back to the whole "don't like push ups" thing. Shoes? Clothes? Books? Sadly, don't need (as in "can't justify, even if my language becomes as pure as Mother Theresa's") the first two, and don't want to add another couple of books to the pile already waiting. A donation to a good cause might seem like a good idea on it's face, but it is, as the others, a disincentive: If I charge myself a quarter every time I swear, where is the incentive to stop? I'd have a new pair of Jimmy Choos in a couple of days, a week, tops. And I can't lose weight fast enough for the new wardrobe I could purchase. As for the donation? If I were to donate every quarter to the cause, why would I want to stop swearing if it would dry up my donation?

No, the answer is in donating to a cause whose mission makes my skin crawl and the bile rise in my throat. An organization which would (in this way only) get my check and which could, at the very thought of my writing said check, shock away every bit of natural color left in my hair. That's right: Nati*onal R*ght to L*fe. (I've added a few characters so I don't show up on a Google search. Anyone know if I can bleach that term from my own search history?) While this challenge doesn't start until January 1, I've already managed to scare myself at least a bit straighter. The day after I decided on this course, I owed them a phantom $2.50 by 9:00. Yes, 9:00 in the morning. But after less than one week, with more "drats," "darnits," and even "hecks," I'm down to maybe .50-.75 per day, which is a huge improvement. So as long as I remember to apply duct tape before I hit the highway, I might be OK.


*For clarification: This applies to verbal mishaps only. It will in no way, shape or form change the Weekly Dammit. Whenever the Dammit decides to come back online, that is.

Parlez Vous Francais?

Thanks to my friend Laura, I can now release my Inner European. I know you'll be as shocked as I wasn't to find that

My Inner European is French!

Smart and sophisticated. You have the best of everything - at least, *you* think so.

Who's Your Inner European?

Though I must say that for me it's more of a "Would like to have a few nice things that no one has ever wiped their nose on."

Just In Time for the Holidays

Last Christmas we went to Union Square in San Francisco to see the department store windows (if you've never been, go you must). It was a dreary day, so while there, we headed over to the little cafe right on Union Square for hot chocolate. What we got was most definitely chocolate, but like nothing I'd ever had before. It was exquisite, so good, in fact, that I found myself calculating the odds of being able to get back through the line in the cafe to replace the five cups already on the table--left unattended only because Thomas went to get his parents and the girls.

My mother-in-law later found a recipe that was very similar. Enjoy!

Scharffen Berger's Drinking Chocolate

2 1/2 C whole milk

4 ox. Scharffen Berger unsweetened chocolate, 99% cacao*, finely chopped

1/3 C sugar

1 1/2 t vanilla

1/2 t cinnamon, opt.

1/8 t cayenne pepper, opt

Heat milk 'til hot to touch. Whisk in chocolate and sugar and continue whisking 1 to 2 minutes 'til chocolate has melted and sugar has dissolved. Whisk in remaining ingredients.

Serve in demitasse cups as dessert.

* You can use a lower percentage, just don't go too low, and definitely don't use milk chocolate. You can also substitute a different brand.

You Know it's Going to be a Long Day

when your t-shirt says "Sexy Smart" but your granny panties are inside out and backwards.

Did You Know . . .

Thanks to my friend Sarah, I had a chance to remember just how much I've forgotten. But I also got a free blog post :) I didn't verify, but some I've seen before. Some may be outdated, but they're still fun.

• In the 1400's a law was set forth in England that a man was allowed to beat his wife with a stick no thick er than his thumb. Hence we have "the rule of thumb"
• Many years ago in Scotland , a new game was invented. It was ruled "Gentlemen Only...Ladies Forbidden"....and thus the word GOLF entered into the English language.
• The first couple to be shown in bed together on prime time TV were Fred and Wilma Flintstone.
• Every day more money is printed for Monopoly than the U.S. Treasury.
• Men can read smaller print than women can; women can hear better.
• Coca-Cola was originally green.
• It is impossible to lick your elbow.
• The State with the highest percentage of people who walk to work: Alaska
• At least 75% of people who read this just tried to lick their elbow.
• The percentage of Africa that is wilderness: 28%
  
• The percentage of North America that is wilderness: 38%
• The cost of raising a medium-size dog to the age of eleven: $ 16,400. Unless we're talking about Argus, in which case, that just gets them out of puppy-hood.
  
• The average number of people airborne over the U.S. in any given hour: 61,000
• Intelligent people have more zinc and copper in their hair.
• The first novel ever written on a typewriter: Tom Sawyer.
  
• The San Francisco Cable cars are the only mobile National Monuments.
• Each king in a deck of playing cards represents a great king from history: Spades - King David; Hearts - Charlemagne; Clubs -Alexander; the Great Diamonds - Julius Caesar
• 111,111,111 x 111,111,111 = 12,345,678,987,654,321
• If a statue in the park of a person on a horse has both front legs in the air, the person died in battle. If the horse has one front leg in the air the person died as a result of wounds received in battle. If the horse has all four legs on the ground, the person died of natural causes.
• Only two people signed the Declaration of Independence on July 4th, John Hancock and Charles Thomson. Most of the rest signed on August 2, but the last signature wasn't added until 5 years later.
• If you were to spell out numbers, you would have to go until one thousand before you would find the letter "A."
• Bulletproof vests, fire escapes, windshield wipers and laser printers were all invented by women.
• Honey is the only food that doesn't spoil.
  
• It was the accepted practice in Babylon 4,000 years ago that for a month after the wedding, the bride's father would supply his son-in-law with all the mead he could drink. Mead is a honey beer and because their calendar was lunar based, this period was called the honey month, which we know today as the honeymoon.
• In English pubs, ale is ordered by pints and quarts. In old England, when customers got unruly, the bartender would yell at them "Mind your pints and quarts, and settle down. This is where we get the phrase "mind your P's and Q's"
• Also around that time, pub frequenters had a whistle baked into the rim or handle of their ceramic cups. When they needed a refill, they used the whistle to get some service. "Wet your whistle" is the phrase inspired by this practice.
• Don't delete this just because it looks weird. Believe it or not, you can read it:

"I cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid Aoccdrnig to rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos n ot raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe."

The Weekly Dammit, #17

Since I skipped last week, let's just get right to it, shall we?

Dammit #1:
Writers' Strike: No Daily Show, no Leno . . . Solve it and solve it soon. I don't think I want a bunch of bloggers-as-scabs taking over Hollywood. Oh, wait . . .

Dammit #2:
I'm taking the girls to Georgia for Thanksgiving. There is no direct flight on the return, unless I want to leave my sister's house at 4 a.m. And I think we all know how long I considered that option. So now we have a layover in Chicago, and I have a portable DVD player on loan from my friend Sarah. Have I mentioned lately, Sarah, just how much I love you? (Psst: that's the anti-dammit: Friends who willingly loan electronics.)

Dammit #3:
This past Saturday, I got food poisoning after eating take-out from my favorite Indian restaurant. (It's actually the only Indian restaurant I've tried in Redwood City. But it's very, very good.) There is a remote chance that, because I was supposed to pick the food up at 6:20 and didn't make it there until 7:00, it just sat too long. I know this isn't really the reason, but I'm going to have to go with it or I will never be able to eat there again. Did I mention that it's really good?

Dammit #4:
On October 8, the U.S. government requested a full-panel hearing with the 6th Circuit Court of Appeals in a case that will determine whether their procedure for issuing subpoenas for stored email is unconstitutional. The government's position appears to be that email users have no right to electronic privacy. That's only part one of the Dammit. Part two is that I found this in a blog on The Register, a U.K.-based site. Did anyone else see it in the U.S. media? Maybe I just missed it. And because The Daily Show is in reruns until the strike is over, most of us wouldn't see it anyway.

Ze Frank on the Writers' Strike

He's back and as funny as ever!

The Daily show should hire him as a writer, if they haven't already. After the strike, of course.

And I Thought Charlotte was Camera Shy

I've Been Busy Mixxing

For the past couple of months I've been busy working on a project for a start up in Virginia. I think Mixx.com is really cool, and I've had a lot of fun with it. Fortunately the tone they wanted pretty much meshed with what I do anyway--well, unless I'm in outrage mode. That--eh, not so much.

Check it out! Sign up! Use it! You'll find my handiwork on the About, FAQ and Help pages, as well as most of the blog posts, error messages and other random text.

Happy Halloween!

I know it's over, but I had to share:

Charlotte still doesn't love the camera the way Hannah does :)

Halloween is a HUGE deal at Hannah's school. They had a parade with all of the kids (K-6) and the teachers.

The day after Halloween--still hopped up on sugar. Guess who didn't have school today?