Wasn't he both funny and a good actor once upon a time? He is on Fresh Air right now, usually one of my favorite radio programs. I'm certainly quite in love with Terry Gross even if, like all radio personalities, she looks nothing like the mental picture I had when she was just a voice. But this isn't about how cool Ms. Gross is.
Robin Williams sucks. Do the damn interview already. Leave the stupid voices and the exaggerated body movements at home for once and just quit acting like an ass. I know it's a radio interview, but he's still sitting in a studio somewhere being an idiot.
You aren't funny anymore, Robin Williams! I don't know what happened over the years to make you suck. And I'm sorry that you now suck, but yes indeed, you do now suck.
As stated, I enjoy Fresh Air and will even plan my kitchen routine somewhat around the radio in the kitchen which sadly gets the best reception in the house as far as NPR is concerned. But today I can't listen. I refuse to annoy myself with Robin Williams, who sucks, I feel inclined to point out.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
mowing update
For everyone concerned about the state of my raggedy unkempt yard, it's mowed, go back to your desks. A total of twenty five raindrops may have fallen on the whole of our property before the sun roared back out in a ball of aaaack!
I wish I had a digital camera so that I could show you what a filthy child looks like. The only thing that The Boy likes as much as climbing is getting dirty. Under his clothes there may have been a clean spot, though he needed a bath before he ever set foot outside. At the end of our outside day though, I actually had to wipe the top coat of dirt off before putting him in the bath.
Today is also pretending it might rain. Last time I was out it didn't seem quite as hot as it should be. I could see breezes playing in the tree tops. I'm sure the only moisture we see outside a glass of water is going to be the humidty, but that's what I get for living in the south.
I wish I had a digital camera so that I could show you what a filthy child looks like. The only thing that The Boy likes as much as climbing is getting dirty. Under his clothes there may have been a clean spot, though he needed a bath before he ever set foot outside. At the end of our outside day though, I actually had to wipe the top coat of dirt off before putting him in the bath.
Today is also pretending it might rain. Last time I was out it didn't seem quite as hot as it should be. I could see breezes playing in the tree tops. I'm sure the only moisture we see outside a glass of water is going to be the humidty, but that's what I get for living in the south.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
great day to mow the yard
Yes, today was the today that I convinced myself that the heat wasn't quite as hot, and I could finally attack the yard. The grass isn't especially tall, for the most part, as a near absence of rain has kept the grass from getting too out of hand. However, my yard supports a number of different grasses, most of which grow differently from the others.
So up grows the random patches of tall stuff. In cooler months, this stuff doesn't get nearly as tall, but it grows very thick. It isn't a huge patch in amongst the rest of the smaller growing grasses, so my yard isn't a green wheat field just yet, but parts of it, those little patches, are outrageously tall compared to the other grass.
One neighbor is meticulous about his yard while the other runs it down as is needed. I, on the other hand, in the middle, procrastinate with ease, letting my already ragged yard grow uglier over the weeks till it even hurts my eyes. Then I rush out in whirl of sweat and cursing and drag the mower around on my one day in the sun.
Today was attack day. I noticed the dark cloud, but it seemed smallish and singular, more likely to provide a sweltering kind of shade than to pour out rain. I began as usual with the scooping of dog turds. I sent Big Brother to pick up the sticks blown off the tree last Friday when we got our most recent dousing of thunderstorm. I continued by sweeping up all the ashes and cigarette butts from the back porch.
It was about this time that the distant thunder first sounded, and I cocked my head to hear it better. Was it a passing airplane? or was that thunder? It was certainly thunder I judged. I knew then that this passing cloud couldn't entirely pass. I knew then that was not likely to get the mowing completed nor even begun.
The sad fact is that I could probably get the mowing done. I've seen plenty of these distant storms show every sign of raining here where we actually need it only to wander past, around and even directly over, preferring to give the mountains their rain. And while I'm certain the mountains need rain, they tend to get much more than we in the valley get.
The thunder rumbles ever closer, though a peek out the window indicates that the real rain is yet to come. Before we retreated inside we each felt raindrops, so we know it's real and it's there somewhere. But will it reach us? Or will I be out an hour from now sweating and cursing?
So up grows the random patches of tall stuff. In cooler months, this stuff doesn't get nearly as tall, but it grows very thick. It isn't a huge patch in amongst the rest of the smaller growing grasses, so my yard isn't a green wheat field just yet, but parts of it, those little patches, are outrageously tall compared to the other grass.
One neighbor is meticulous about his yard while the other runs it down as is needed. I, on the other hand, in the middle, procrastinate with ease, letting my already ragged yard grow uglier over the weeks till it even hurts my eyes. Then I rush out in whirl of sweat and cursing and drag the mower around on my one day in the sun.
Today was attack day. I noticed the dark cloud, but it seemed smallish and singular, more likely to provide a sweltering kind of shade than to pour out rain. I began as usual with the scooping of dog turds. I sent Big Brother to pick up the sticks blown off the tree last Friday when we got our most recent dousing of thunderstorm. I continued by sweeping up all the ashes and cigarette butts from the back porch.
It was about this time that the distant thunder first sounded, and I cocked my head to hear it better. Was it a passing airplane? or was that thunder? It was certainly thunder I judged. I knew then that this passing cloud couldn't entirely pass. I knew then that was not likely to get the mowing completed nor even begun.
The sad fact is that I could probably get the mowing done. I've seen plenty of these distant storms show every sign of raining here where we actually need it only to wander past, around and even directly over, preferring to give the mountains their rain. And while I'm certain the mountains need rain, they tend to get much more than we in the valley get.
The thunder rumbles ever closer, though a peek out the window indicates that the real rain is yet to come. Before we retreated inside we each felt raindrops, so we know it's real and it's there somewhere. But will it reach us? Or will I be out an hour from now sweating and cursing?
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
is parenting really generational?
This Washington Post article mentioned by Chris O'Donnell pointed out to me what I think is the overlooked problem in teen drug and alcohol use and sexual activity. The Washington Post sees it in terms of permissive parents versus overbearing parents. Chris seems to see it in terms of generational differences. Neither source approached the problem as I see it, honesty.
We are always fighting the evil trio of alcohol, drugs and sex. Perhaps some people even see the double standard, the discussion with your children making you a hypocrite because of all the things you did back in the sixties or seventies, or now even into the eighties or nineties. Hell, if you're like me, on into the . . .uuuuhhhh . . .the zeroties?
I think that we are dishonest too often about the evil trio. Perhaps we feel that a good scare will make kids not drink and drive. We can preach the evils of drug use. We can wing it with sex because who the hell really knows anyway. We each preach our beliefs on this one, some of our beliefs being a little healthier than others.
These problems were certainly there in earlier generations, but once upon a time, young, unwed mothers were shipped off to an aunt's house and disappeared from polite society. The drug addicted son went to the asylum or into the business or out on the street, depending on the family, and the same happens today with slightly more parents willing to turn a naive eye and continue to enable. We just lie our asses off and hide everything from everyone.
I'm not sure exactly what I'm trying to say here. I've written and rewritten this entire post at least three or four times. I get some righteous indignation out, and the upon rereading I see how off course I've gone as opposed what I set out to say. I think my own problem writing this may be much like the problem I see with our approach to the evil trio; it gets confusing. We can't make them go away, and too often we just approach it when we have to. And the only time we really have to approach these issues is when it's late enough to have become a problem. That's kind of addiction in a nutshell, the problem with alcohol and drugs. Yet we won't look at the problem of addiction, we just look down on the junky and keep on walking. But if we don't start with addiction, we can never look at the real problem with drugs. We too often miss the signs with kids and drugs, and we've been taught that drug addiction is a sign of a bad person and a criminal offense.
If we need to be honest about drugs, then we should be allowed the freedom of honesty about sex. Sex is so much different than our other two evil trio members. Sex has so much more going for it, and so much riding on it. (heehee at riding on it) I certainly don't have an answer to this one. If we are dishonest about drugs and alcohol, I fear that with sex we aren't dishonest so much as deluded. To some sex is sacred, to others it's a goal, to many people it's just something to do. It's also a great way to draw attention to a product. We are, like many animals, fairly sexually minded. Yet because we are human and like variety and choice, we make things up as we go. Yet to monkey wrench the cogs, we have a huge steaming mound of guilt served up right beside all that sexual wantsomeness.
None of the trio is actually evil. It's just that these are such strong urges for people. There is a certain desire for the lads and/or lasses and the cups, yet the trio can have such dire consequences when taken too lightly. There's a certain something that drives some to do things that others wish they wouldn't. Perhaps we don't want our kids to do some of these things. Condemning doesn't work any better than bullshitting. So where are we left? We have to start being honest with each other and our kids.
We are always fighting the evil trio of alcohol, drugs and sex. Perhaps some people even see the double standard, the discussion with your children making you a hypocrite because of all the things you did back in the sixties or seventies, or now even into the eighties or nineties. Hell, if you're like me, on into the . . .uuuuhhhh . . .the zeroties?
I think that we are dishonest too often about the evil trio. Perhaps we feel that a good scare will make kids not drink and drive. We can preach the evils of drug use. We can wing it with sex because who the hell really knows anyway. We each preach our beliefs on this one, some of our beliefs being a little healthier than others.
These problems were certainly there in earlier generations, but once upon a time, young, unwed mothers were shipped off to an aunt's house and disappeared from polite society. The drug addicted son went to the asylum or into the business or out on the street, depending on the family, and the same happens today with slightly more parents willing to turn a naive eye and continue to enable. We just lie our asses off and hide everything from everyone.
I'm not sure exactly what I'm trying to say here. I've written and rewritten this entire post at least three or four times. I get some righteous indignation out, and the upon rereading I see how off course I've gone as opposed what I set out to say. I think my own problem writing this may be much like the problem I see with our approach to the evil trio; it gets confusing. We can't make them go away, and too often we just approach it when we have to. And the only time we really have to approach these issues is when it's late enough to have become a problem. That's kind of addiction in a nutshell, the problem with alcohol and drugs. Yet we won't look at the problem of addiction, we just look down on the junky and keep on walking. But if we don't start with addiction, we can never look at the real problem with drugs. We too often miss the signs with kids and drugs, and we've been taught that drug addiction is a sign of a bad person and a criminal offense.
If we need to be honest about drugs, then we should be allowed the freedom of honesty about sex. Sex is so much different than our other two evil trio members. Sex has so much more going for it, and so much riding on it. (heehee at riding on it) I certainly don't have an answer to this one. If we are dishonest about drugs and alcohol, I fear that with sex we aren't dishonest so much as deluded. To some sex is sacred, to others it's a goal, to many people it's just something to do. It's also a great way to draw attention to a product. We are, like many animals, fairly sexually minded. Yet because we are human and like variety and choice, we make things up as we go. Yet to monkey wrench the cogs, we have a huge steaming mound of guilt served up right beside all that sexual wantsomeness.
None of the trio is actually evil. It's just that these are such strong urges for people. There is a certain desire for the lads and/or lasses and the cups, yet the trio can have such dire consequences when taken too lightly. There's a certain something that drives some to do things that others wish they wouldn't. Perhaps we don't want our kids to do some of these things. Condemning doesn't work any better than bullshitting. So where are we left? We have to start being honest with each other and our kids.
Monday, July 31, 2006
hairy crutch
I'm not entirely sure, but prehaps the searcher misspelled. I have an interesting hit in my statcounter. Someone in Australia found me by searching "hairy crutch." I know that a hairy crutch is the beginning of a good day, but beyond that, I'm not quite sure. Perhaps a nice hairy crutch is an Australian thing.
Friday, July 28, 2006
popsicle burn
Sure, it's a popsicle burn. I don't know quite what else to call it. I have a place now on my upper lip. Gramaw brought some sort of frozen fruit bars over about a week ago, and though they are good, they really are just some fancy hi-falutin popsicles.
The boys basically had them for lunch, or second breakfast if you'd rather, followed shortly by real lunch by the way, so I had one as well. Mine was actually breakfast so that you know I feed myself more poorly than those poor kids.
They really were delightful and tasty. I had lime. Every lick I took at first, the damn thing kept sticking to my lip. It was like a tiny little flagpole on a crisp February morning. Of course I kept going back for more as I've eaten frozen treats before. Sometimes you freeze to it, but you keep trying, and it never lasts that long anyway. I've certainly never gotten freezer burn from a popsicle. I certainly did today though.
So take that as a warning. There is one more dangerous food for us all to worry about. I'll work on forming a committee to make frozen treat makers throughout the country place warning labels. No one should suffer this mild unpleasantness ever again. My coffee makes me feel that place as a little tender and takes me right back to the trauma of the popsicle. Oooooh! the slight tenderness is so . . .there . . . at times.
I have to stop writing about this. It's giving me bad feelings, well, somewhat less than pleasant. Seriously, there is noticeable discomort.
Now I'm licking it to see if I can taste tender.
The boys basically had them for lunch, or second breakfast if you'd rather, followed shortly by real lunch by the way, so I had one as well. Mine was actually breakfast so that you know I feed myself more poorly than those poor kids.
They really were delightful and tasty. I had lime. Every lick I took at first, the damn thing kept sticking to my lip. It was like a tiny little flagpole on a crisp February morning. Of course I kept going back for more as I've eaten frozen treats before. Sometimes you freeze to it, but you keep trying, and it never lasts that long anyway. I've certainly never gotten freezer burn from a popsicle. I certainly did today though.
So take that as a warning. There is one more dangerous food for us all to worry about. I'll work on forming a committee to make frozen treat makers throughout the country place warning labels. No one should suffer this mild unpleasantness ever again. My coffee makes me feel that place as a little tender and takes me right back to the trauma of the popsicle. Oooooh! the slight tenderness is so . . .there . . . at times.
I have to stop writing about this. It's giving me bad feelings, well, somewhat less than pleasant. Seriously, there is noticeable discomort.
Now I'm licking it to see if I can taste tender.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
roller derby bake sale/away match
This is a two part ad for Momma and her roller derby buddies. First, her team, Machine Gun Kellys is having a bake sale. So if some random reader here happens to be in Knoxvegas this Saturday, stop by Market Square, buy some baked delights and offset some of the expense of this craziness.
I'm guessing you've checked out the poster. I'm hoping they don't mind that I lifted it right off the Myspace page. The Hard Knox Roller Girls are going to drive down to Alabama in August and put the Knox down on some of Birmingham's braver female citizens. The bout is against the Tragic City Rollers. It will be tragic for them when they lose, but the tragedy for Hard Knox is having to leave Tennessee and drive to Alabama.
So if you're close enough on the twentieth, swing on by and cheer for the away side. Now to find out if it's BYOB, cash bar, whatever. These are the important matters.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
rant about stupid girl
Via KnoxViews, I get a mindless rant from a first year law student explaining how women should stop dressing like sluts if they want a decent man. She really insults women as being little more than a product while men are mere consumers with a thrifty eye.
I don't expect her, as only a first year law student, to have mastered the mysterious art of crafting a well thought out argument, which she didn't. As a law student of any year or as a real honest to god lawyer, I wouldn't expect her to bother much with the truth or to care that she was engaging in gross stereotyping of entire genders, also which she didn't. Based on my limited experience with lawyers, they're a bunch of obnoxious drunks that are good for a drink once they get a job. I'm not sure, but the nonstop drinking might just be to quiet that voice that wants them to ask themselves if maybe they don't feel a little dirty, and wouldn't they like to get an honest job.
The article basically goes on for much too long about girls and their attire. If a girl looks cheap, then guys who want cheap girls will line up for her. If she advertises herself in a nicer package, then she will attract a guy who wants a nice girl. If she really just wants to have sex with guys, then she should dress like a prostitute, but unlike the whore, she's actually free. Then comes the doom, the dreaded one night stand and the lifetime of heartbreak when that guy you gave it to didn't call back. And furthermore she says, that's life, because guys don't call back.
The writer has absolutely no regard for men who she is quite able to analyze, and her conclusion is that we all want sex, nothing but sex, and we will take appropriate steps to get some sex. She even suggests that we "give two kinds of attention, sexual and every other kind." If you suggest that it's possible to separate all thoughts into sexual and otherwise, then you are giving a great deal of nonspecific value to otherwise. That allows for much more ability as men than she otherwise seems to allow. Her suggestions about women being little more than play things is more sad than aggravating. I would hope that the women in my life understand sex better than just as the one tool women have over men.
Yes, guys like it, the sweet monkey lovin'. I won't lie. And often enough, girls seem to enjoy this too. However, this does in no way diminish the capacity in most guys to be a caring and nice person. My perception of this woman's problems indicate a frustrating sexual history in which she attracted bad partners, possibly through decisions that she was making. If you find that your life is a sad history of one night stands, you must look at the one constant in all those couplings, and it's obviously not the guys. If you live your life using sex to find one decent guy, then your problem may need more help then dressing nicely.
I'll finish with a tip of the hat to the local prostitutes in saying that they don't dress like whores. Apparently, to sell oneself locally requires a combination of ill fitting sweat pants, plastic bag of belongings, worn out flip flops, it gets worse from here really, seriously! And also to the local lawyers, I don't really hold such disdain for you. I really don't.
I don't expect her, as only a first year law student, to have mastered the mysterious art of crafting a well thought out argument, which she didn't. As a law student of any year or as a real honest to god lawyer, I wouldn't expect her to bother much with the truth or to care that she was engaging in gross stereotyping of entire genders, also which she didn't. Based on my limited experience with lawyers, they're a bunch of obnoxious drunks that are good for a drink once they get a job. I'm not sure, but the nonstop drinking might just be to quiet that voice that wants them to ask themselves if maybe they don't feel a little dirty, and wouldn't they like to get an honest job.
The article basically goes on for much too long about girls and their attire. If a girl looks cheap, then guys who want cheap girls will line up for her. If she advertises herself in a nicer package, then she will attract a guy who wants a nice girl. If she really just wants to have sex with guys, then she should dress like a prostitute, but unlike the whore, she's actually free. Then comes the doom, the dreaded one night stand and the lifetime of heartbreak when that guy you gave it to didn't call back. And furthermore she says, that's life, because guys don't call back.
The writer has absolutely no regard for men who she is quite able to analyze, and her conclusion is that we all want sex, nothing but sex, and we will take appropriate steps to get some sex. She even suggests that we "give two kinds of attention, sexual and every other kind." If you suggest that it's possible to separate all thoughts into sexual and otherwise, then you are giving a great deal of nonspecific value to otherwise. That allows for much more ability as men than she otherwise seems to allow. Her suggestions about women being little more than play things is more sad than aggravating. I would hope that the women in my life understand sex better than just as the one tool women have over men.
Yes, guys like it, the sweet monkey lovin'. I won't lie. And often enough, girls seem to enjoy this too. However, this does in no way diminish the capacity in most guys to be a caring and nice person. My perception of this woman's problems indicate a frustrating sexual history in which she attracted bad partners, possibly through decisions that she was making. If you find that your life is a sad history of one night stands, you must look at the one constant in all those couplings, and it's obviously not the guys. If you live your life using sex to find one decent guy, then your problem may need more help then dressing nicely.
I'll finish with a tip of the hat to the local prostitutes in saying that they don't dress like whores. Apparently, to sell oneself locally requires a combination of ill fitting sweat pants, plastic bag of belongings, worn out flip flops, it gets worse from here really, seriously! And also to the local lawyers, I don't really hold such disdain for you. I really don't.
'cuz she asked so nice
Frankie loves these things, and I don't. But I do them anyway sometimes. So I'll do this one too, but only because my robot post was/is just too taxing to think about at this stage of the evening. I guess we'll just jump into it
What was I doing ten years ago?
Momma and I had been together just over a year at this point, little aware what this coupling would result in. We lived in a shady little shit hole on the side of a gravel parking lot belonging to what we were assured was the only lesbian bar in Rock Hill, SC. We were punk as fuck, and we stole their picnic table for our front porch, and I dug a belt out of their dumpster that I still wear and am in fact currently wearing. I should point out that, while I didn't actually aid in the theft of the picnic table, I didn't do anything about the situation beyond enjoy the picnic table. This was still the early days of my restaurant career in which I constantly promised myself that this job was certainly the last. Ten years ago may have been the summer that I worked as a laborer for a drywall company. That job sucked.
What was I doing one year ago?
Mostly what I'm doing now. Sadly, I was just as lazy about getting out and doing anything, and I was still to satisfied with sitting at the computer rather than do much else. It's a sad situation this, and one that I'm working on working on. I really am starting to waste the whole point of staying at home with the boys.
Really? five snacks that I enjoy?
1. Kettle Chips rippled, salt and pepper
2. Senor Taco's salsa bar
3. Moose Tracks ice cream
4. At the pizza place I used to work at we had black bean hummus. I used to spread that on a pita, top it with salsa and cheese and melt the whole thing in the oven. That was some good eating.
5. hard boiled egg dipped into a pile of salt and pepper
Do I know the words to five songs?
I've never been good at this, but I'm sure I can try.
1. Bankshot-Operation Ivy. So, it's the only lyric, almost, some guy shouting "BANKSHOT" over some of the greatest ska/punk ever.
2. Tennessee Stud-Johnny Cash, though written by Jimmy Driftwood, nonetheless, Johnny Cash most likely did it best.
3. Sunday Morning Coming Down-Johnny Cash yet again. This time we get Kris Kristoferson as the writer, who I'd like to hear do the song, but again, Johnny taught me the song.
4. I can't think of another song. Is it alright to look at the cd's laying around and find a song I know the words of? It seems like cheating, but I'm really just drawing a blank. Oh, Iron Man-Black Sabbath. But really, who doesn't know the words to Iron Man? seriously
5. Bales of Cocaine-Reverend Horton Heat. This is just a fun song, ain't no two ways about it.
Oh yeah, the five things millionaire question.
I'm the $2-4 a week powerball guy, so I think about this once in a while.
1. The debt would all disappear, possibly the most fun.
2. I'd show Momma and the boys a really great time in some really cool place. The hard part would be where to spend a little money somewhere in the world.
3. I imagine that we'd save plenty of money to move somewhere cool and open a restaurant that would then become our income so that we didn't end up like some busted ass lottery rich redneck left broke with a trailer mortgage and a dwindling supply of Harleys as the debts came due.
4. By this time I've become a good citizen, supporting NPR and donating whenever the guy in the fez shows up. We've invested the remainder of our million well and are able to take really great trips with the boys who are learning that their homeschool is global.
5. See number 4
I don't have five bad habits do I?
1. Smoking
2. I could drink a little less, but I could also not.
3. Internetting
4. I still shout way too much. I'm still working on it, and I'm hoping the boys notice it. But it just seems such a natural and unimpeded motion till I catch myself half way through. I'm starting to get the point earlier though, so I'm sure I'm slowly figuring out how to be less of an asshole.
5. Language! I think I caught The Boy saying a fave cuss word of mine recently. I did the "not pointing it out" thing. I'm pretty sure he cussed though.
Five things I like doing is totally easy. I totally like doing at least five things.
1. Drinking a bloody mary at brunch on a Sunday morning.
2. Playing soccer. I miss it, but I'm scared as the fall approaches knowing that I'm in no condition to play, that I won't likely become unlazy and that these haven't stopped me in the past.
3. Playing video games. I had a great time with Medal of Honor-Rising Sun, as Big Brother and I played the different levels together. That isn't an option on Frontline, the MOH newest to us, though not the newest version of the game. I try to be cool when we play versus each other and he beats me, but he does, and I'm not always.
4. Saying inane things to The Boy knowing the specific response I will get just to hear his delightfully funny way of saying certain things.
5. Going off with righteous, if misguided sometimes, indignation about just about anything. In real life, I'm always moments from a good fussing about random subject, especially if I've recently read about it somewhere, like a magazine.
Five items of clothing that I won't ever wear again?
1. There's the parachute pants that I got as hand me downs from a friend after they were no longer cool. The person from whom the pants had been handed down, upon my first time ever wearing parachute pants, a fashion statement that I'd longed to make, asked me if I was waiting for them to come back in style. And I had to wear those pants all night after that.
2. The Lucero shirt that shrunk in the wash, but it'll look fine on Momma.
3. The t-shirt from the christian school that occupied so much of my youth, though I also can't stand to get rid of it.
4. The boxers with the snaps that were an adult hand me down. I thought they were neat if pointless when I first saw them, but I'm forever sucking in my stomach to avoid unsnapping them whenever I need to do extreme vertical movements, as opposed to minor adjustments. That snap is tiny and hard to fasten sometimes, especially when some kid is screaming, and I just don't like them, the boxers. But they have a nice stripe pattern, so I hate to get rid of them, just in case.
5. The box of shirts sitting in the hallway needing to go to Goodwill when I next take the recycling. That's sort of cheating, but it is a box of things I won't wear again.
My five favorite toys? What counts as a toy?
1. My computer? Does that count?
2. Our tax refund stereo in the car. We finally have a cd player in the car! Which goes first, the Honda factory speakers or the kids heads?
3. Nintendo Gamecube
4. Wooden train track. We have a nice little pile of tracks, and I'm often frustratedly enjoying trying to build a big track, using as many pieces as possible while not ending up with a bunch of crap going nowhere. It can be a challenge. And I'm leaning toward Percy lately as a favorite.
5. I've run out of toys. I really have. Maybe I should use some of that million dollars from earlier on something cool.
What was I doing ten years ago?
Momma and I had been together just over a year at this point, little aware what this coupling would result in. We lived in a shady little shit hole on the side of a gravel parking lot belonging to what we were assured was the only lesbian bar in Rock Hill, SC. We were punk as fuck, and we stole their picnic table for our front porch, and I dug a belt out of their dumpster that I still wear and am in fact currently wearing. I should point out that, while I didn't actually aid in the theft of the picnic table, I didn't do anything about the situation beyond enjoy the picnic table. This was still the early days of my restaurant career in which I constantly promised myself that this job was certainly the last. Ten years ago may have been the summer that I worked as a laborer for a drywall company. That job sucked.
What was I doing one year ago?
Mostly what I'm doing now. Sadly, I was just as lazy about getting out and doing anything, and I was still to satisfied with sitting at the computer rather than do much else. It's a sad situation this, and one that I'm working on working on. I really am starting to waste the whole point of staying at home with the boys.
Really? five snacks that I enjoy?
1. Kettle Chips rippled, salt and pepper
2. Senor Taco's salsa bar
3. Moose Tracks ice cream
4. At the pizza place I used to work at we had black bean hummus. I used to spread that on a pita, top it with salsa and cheese and melt the whole thing in the oven. That was some good eating.
5. hard boiled egg dipped into a pile of salt and pepper
Do I know the words to five songs?
I've never been good at this, but I'm sure I can try.
1. Bankshot-Operation Ivy. So, it's the only lyric, almost, some guy shouting "BANKSHOT" over some of the greatest ska/punk ever.
2. Tennessee Stud-Johnny Cash, though written by Jimmy Driftwood, nonetheless, Johnny Cash most likely did it best.
3. Sunday Morning Coming Down-Johnny Cash yet again. This time we get Kris Kristoferson as the writer, who I'd like to hear do the song, but again, Johnny taught me the song.
4. I can't think of another song. Is it alright to look at the cd's laying around and find a song I know the words of? It seems like cheating, but I'm really just drawing a blank. Oh, Iron Man-Black Sabbath. But really, who doesn't know the words to Iron Man? seriously
5. Bales of Cocaine-Reverend Horton Heat. This is just a fun song, ain't no two ways about it.
Oh yeah, the five things millionaire question.
I'm the $2-4 a week powerball guy, so I think about this once in a while.
1. The debt would all disappear, possibly the most fun.
2. I'd show Momma and the boys a really great time in some really cool place. The hard part would be where to spend a little money somewhere in the world.
3. I imagine that we'd save plenty of money to move somewhere cool and open a restaurant that would then become our income so that we didn't end up like some busted ass lottery rich redneck left broke with a trailer mortgage and a dwindling supply of Harleys as the debts came due.
4. By this time I've become a good citizen, supporting NPR and donating whenever the guy in the fez shows up. We've invested the remainder of our million well and are able to take really great trips with the boys who are learning that their homeschool is global.
5. See number 4
I don't have five bad habits do I?
1. Smoking
2. I could drink a little less, but I could also not.
3. Internetting
4. I still shout way too much. I'm still working on it, and I'm hoping the boys notice it. But it just seems such a natural and unimpeded motion till I catch myself half way through. I'm starting to get the point earlier though, so I'm sure I'm slowly figuring out how to be less of an asshole.
5. Language! I think I caught The Boy saying a fave cuss word of mine recently. I did the "not pointing it out" thing. I'm pretty sure he cussed though.
Five things I like doing is totally easy. I totally like doing at least five things.
1. Drinking a bloody mary at brunch on a Sunday morning.
2. Playing soccer. I miss it, but I'm scared as the fall approaches knowing that I'm in no condition to play, that I won't likely become unlazy and that these haven't stopped me in the past.
3. Playing video games. I had a great time with Medal of Honor-Rising Sun, as Big Brother and I played the different levels together. That isn't an option on Frontline, the MOH newest to us, though not the newest version of the game. I try to be cool when we play versus each other and he beats me, but he does, and I'm not always.
4. Saying inane things to The Boy knowing the specific response I will get just to hear his delightfully funny way of saying certain things.
5. Going off with righteous, if misguided sometimes, indignation about just about anything. In real life, I'm always moments from a good fussing about random subject, especially if I've recently read about it somewhere, like a magazine.
Five items of clothing that I won't ever wear again?
1. There's the parachute pants that I got as hand me downs from a friend after they were no longer cool. The person from whom the pants had been handed down, upon my first time ever wearing parachute pants, a fashion statement that I'd longed to make, asked me if I was waiting for them to come back in style. And I had to wear those pants all night after that.
2. The Lucero shirt that shrunk in the wash, but it'll look fine on Momma.
3. The t-shirt from the christian school that occupied so much of my youth, though I also can't stand to get rid of it.
4. The boxers with the snaps that were an adult hand me down. I thought they were neat if pointless when I first saw them, but I'm forever sucking in my stomach to avoid unsnapping them whenever I need to do extreme vertical movements, as opposed to minor adjustments. That snap is tiny and hard to fasten sometimes, especially when some kid is screaming, and I just don't like them, the boxers. But they have a nice stripe pattern, so I hate to get rid of them, just in case.
5. The box of shirts sitting in the hallway needing to go to Goodwill when I next take the recycling. That's sort of cheating, but it is a box of things I won't wear again.
My five favorite toys? What counts as a toy?
1. My computer? Does that count?
2. Our tax refund stereo in the car. We finally have a cd player in the car! Which goes first, the Honda factory speakers or the kids heads?
3. Nintendo Gamecube
4. Wooden train track. We have a nice little pile of tracks, and I'm often frustratedly enjoying trying to build a big track, using as many pieces as possible while not ending up with a bunch of crap going nowhere. It can be a challenge. And I'm leaning toward Percy lately as a favorite.
5. I've run out of toys. I really have. Maybe I should use some of that million dollars from earlier on something cool.
Saturday, July 22, 2006
my boxing moment
It's a Friday, Momma's latest of late work nights. The boys are in bed and even asleep. I've got the television on, flipping through the channels wondering if I want to get back online or perhaps shoot some Nazis in Medal of Honor. As I stroll from channel to channel, I ponder my options while wishing there was something good on late on a Friday night.
So what do I find? The Contender, a reality show based on boxing. I remember boxing, back when it would actually come on regular tv. At some point, it seemed to disappear into a world of cable and pay per view. So much for getting to see Sugar Ray Leonard on Wide World of Sports.
But now, I'm a grown ass man, and my wife makes enough money that we have cable, and I find that some late nights, my choice in watching men beat the crap out of each other is most interesting. Not every night can be last year's UFC reality show, but boxing is fun too.
So we get that I'm okay with fighting and watching grown ass men beat on each other. I'm enough of a fan to watch, but I'm not buying the magazine and learning all their names. When presented with a chance to watch a fight, I have to go with what I'm given by tv to decide on a favorite. Watching The Contender tonight, I was certain that I liked the younger guy. I don't know why, but it's likely that as I landed on the channel, his profile bit, the part where he talks about what the upcoming fight means, started to win me over. Maybe it's just because I saw his first without having any actual knowledge of the person or the show. I know of the show, I just don't go out of my way to watch it . . .usually.
I don't know exactly how The Contender works. The UFC show has a bunch of guys separated into two teams. The separate teams train then meet every so often to beat each other up. They all live in a big house and we get to spy on the day to day . . .blah . . .blah . . .reality show. We all know how reality shows work, unless there are those of us lucky enough to have just avoided the whole sordid mess. But I never actually watch this show unless I happen to catch an actual fight. I just want the fights, not the mundane training crap, the parts that make it a reality show instead of just boxing.
I'm liking the first guy and thinking he's really a peach. Then the second guy's profile starts. He seems cool too, and he's as likeable as the other guy, but I don't feel my temporary allegiance wavering until the prefight bit. They show each guy in their separate dressing rooms. I'm sure that, for the show, they've been locked away in a secret location away from their loved ones, and just before the fight, their loved ones make an appearance. It plays great out in the sticks.
Guy one has a girlfriend who sounds really great. She has stuck with him and they are totally in love. Second guy has a fiancee, and three kids. I didn't really feel myself waver till the kids showed up. Then it was seeing guy number two with his youngest son, roughly the same age as my youngest. Then I was done. I wavered all the way over to guy number two. He won my allegiance from guy number one by having kids.
The youngest kid wasn't at the fight. The older kids were ringside, and the looks on their faces were awesome. They seemed used to seeing dad being busted around as well as busting around himself. The fight, with the crazy tv camera work that they use to add some extra zing, was outrageous. They just about walked at each other swinging the whole time. Guy number two was the clear winner through most of the fight, though it was seriously close for most of the fight. They both wanted it so bad.
At the end of the fight, you could see that guy number two's kids were completely certain that he'd won. I was pretty sure of it as well. I almost got a little choked up when it was confirmed. I had a moment there on the sofa, watching a boxing reality show, all because some guy's kids showed up.
So what do I find? The Contender, a reality show based on boxing. I remember boxing, back when it would actually come on regular tv. At some point, it seemed to disappear into a world of cable and pay per view. So much for getting to see Sugar Ray Leonard on Wide World of Sports.
But now, I'm a grown ass man, and my wife makes enough money that we have cable, and I find that some late nights, my choice in watching men beat the crap out of each other is most interesting. Not every night can be last year's UFC reality show, but boxing is fun too.
So we get that I'm okay with fighting and watching grown ass men beat on each other. I'm enough of a fan to watch, but I'm not buying the magazine and learning all their names. When presented with a chance to watch a fight, I have to go with what I'm given by tv to decide on a favorite. Watching The Contender tonight, I was certain that I liked the younger guy. I don't know why, but it's likely that as I landed on the channel, his profile bit, the part where he talks about what the upcoming fight means, started to win me over. Maybe it's just because I saw his first without having any actual knowledge of the person or the show. I know of the show, I just don't go out of my way to watch it . . .usually.
I don't know exactly how The Contender works. The UFC show has a bunch of guys separated into two teams. The separate teams train then meet every so often to beat each other up. They all live in a big house and we get to spy on the day to day . . .blah . . .blah . . .reality show. We all know how reality shows work, unless there are those of us lucky enough to have just avoided the whole sordid mess. But I never actually watch this show unless I happen to catch an actual fight. I just want the fights, not the mundane training crap, the parts that make it a reality show instead of just boxing.
I'm liking the first guy and thinking he's really a peach. Then the second guy's profile starts. He seems cool too, and he's as likeable as the other guy, but I don't feel my temporary allegiance wavering until the prefight bit. They show each guy in their separate dressing rooms. I'm sure that, for the show, they've been locked away in a secret location away from their loved ones, and just before the fight, their loved ones make an appearance. It plays great out in the sticks.
Guy one has a girlfriend who sounds really great. She has stuck with him and they are totally in love. Second guy has a fiancee, and three kids. I didn't really feel myself waver till the kids showed up. Then it was seeing guy number two with his youngest son, roughly the same age as my youngest. Then I was done. I wavered all the way over to guy number two. He won my allegiance from guy number one by having kids.
The youngest kid wasn't at the fight. The older kids were ringside, and the looks on their faces were awesome. They seemed used to seeing dad being busted around as well as busting around himself. The fight, with the crazy tv camera work that they use to add some extra zing, was outrageous. They just about walked at each other swinging the whole time. Guy number two was the clear winner through most of the fight, though it was seriously close for most of the fight. They both wanted it so bad.
At the end of the fight, you could see that guy number two's kids were completely certain that he'd won. I was pretty sure of it as well. I almost got a little choked up when it was confirmed. I had a moment there on the sofa, watching a boxing reality show, all because some guy's kids showed up.
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
true fix for marriage and couplehood
I'm not suggesting personal support for any amendments to the Constitution. It's quite the document without stupid modern politicians mucking about with it. I would ask, even plead, that if they insist on mucking about with it, they go all or nothing and that they actually pay attention to the arguments, not just please their perceived constituents, because more often than not, their constituents are not just the people footing the bill.
Apparently, someone else here in TN thinks the same, though maybe a bit differently. Considering that this politician voted "Yea" on the marriage amendment, his speech should be taken with some amount of salt, but the message I take from it is much simpler. TN Congressman Lincoln Davis had some strong suggestions concerning the marriage amendment. That link takes you to the Think Progress page for a video of Mr. Davis discussing the amendment from hell.
If you think that marriage needs saving, then you should attack the actual source of its demise. Nothing hurts marriage more than divorce and infidelity. Gay people actually getting married as opposed to merely living in sin will bring out the nazi tyrannosaurus with laser eyes, a fact that I'm sure we are all well aware of.
So, the biggest threat to marriage could easily be denied if we make divorce and adultery illegal. Convicted marriage felons would no longer be able to run for or hold political office. I won't list all the people on both sides who would no longer represent their financial backers, and this would certainly bring our entire political system to a screeching halt, but such is life in the end. If only there were some magic lever that periodically tossed out all the bad guys.
I will point out that I ran across this story via Knox Views, one of the few news sites I kept in my Bloglines when I did the big time waste purge recently.
Apparently, someone else here in TN thinks the same, though maybe a bit differently. Considering that this politician voted "Yea" on the marriage amendment, his speech should be taken with some amount of salt, but the message I take from it is much simpler. TN Congressman Lincoln Davis had some strong suggestions concerning the marriage amendment. That link takes you to the Think Progress page for a video of Mr. Davis discussing the amendment from hell.
If you think that marriage needs saving, then you should attack the actual source of its demise. Nothing hurts marriage more than divorce and infidelity. Gay people actually getting married as opposed to merely living in sin will bring out the nazi tyrannosaurus with laser eyes, a fact that I'm sure we are all well aware of.
So, the biggest threat to marriage could easily be denied if we make divorce and adultery illegal. Convicted marriage felons would no longer be able to run for or hold political office. I won't list all the people on both sides who would no longer represent their financial backers, and this would certainly bring our entire political system to a screeching halt, but such is life in the end. If only there were some magic lever that periodically tossed out all the bad guys.
I will point out that I ran across this story via Knox Views, one of the few news sites I kept in my Bloglines when I did the big time waste purge recently.
current reading
Big Brother and I finished Inkheart recently. It was written by Cornelia Funke, and having read it once on my own and once with Big Brother, I'm still not sure what I think about the book. The story itself is good, but . . .I'm not quite sure what, but there's a little something about the book, the way the story finally falls out, that just kind of leaves me wanting.
We picked as our next book, The thief of Always by Clive Barker. I read several of his books years ago, but I've not really been reading anything like that lately. I just haven't been reading the creepy stories lately. I'm remembering the book as I read it, and there are certainly some creepy moments in it. There is a pretty mean monster attack and some generally freaky scifi stuff. It's enough that I feel I should throw in the disclaimer because some parents may be uncomfortable with it, but it is certainly written for kids.
I'm rereading a classic that I've considered reading to Big Brother, but he hasn't decided that he wants to yet. I've also not decided whether or not I'm ready for him to hear/read this book either. Of course, I'm rereading the trilogy, yet again, and within the first book, I've gotten my first reminder in Eccentrica Gallumbits. I'm the happy owner of Douglas Adams' trilogy in five parts that is the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy in one book. That just seems too much actually, as I'm basically forced to read the entire pile as one book. But I'd do it anyway, regardless of the presentation.
I wonder if the movie is on OnDemand yet. I might have to check. That way when we do read the book, it will be nice and confusing for Big Brother because they are so differently telling the same story, kind of.
We picked as our next book, The thief of Always by Clive Barker. I read several of his books years ago, but I've not really been reading anything like that lately. I just haven't been reading the creepy stories lately. I'm remembering the book as I read it, and there are certainly some creepy moments in it. There is a pretty mean monster attack and some generally freaky scifi stuff. It's enough that I feel I should throw in the disclaimer because some parents may be uncomfortable with it, but it is certainly written for kids.
I'm rereading a classic that I've considered reading to Big Brother, but he hasn't decided that he wants to yet. I've also not decided whether or not I'm ready for him to hear/read this book either. Of course, I'm rereading the trilogy, yet again, and within the first book, I've gotten my first reminder in Eccentrica Gallumbits. I'm the happy owner of Douglas Adams' trilogy in five parts that is the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy in one book. That just seems too much actually, as I'm basically forced to read the entire pile as one book. But I'd do it anyway, regardless of the presentation.
I wonder if the movie is on OnDemand yet. I might have to check. That way when we do read the book, it will be nice and confusing for Big Brother because they are so differently telling the same story, kind of.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
selfish fight
With one quick Google search of the words teen, cancer, treatment and Mexico, I got over two million hits to this story. I'm sure everyone by now is aware of the homeschooling family whose son has cancer and wants to forego chemotherapy in favor of an alternative treatment in Mexico. The state has suggested that perhaps the family is being neglectful of the child because the family supports his decision to ignore what is currently accepted in the US as the best treatment.
I won't argue any of those points as I personally haven't quite formed an opinion yet. What I will argue is that homeschool blogs are want to go off half cocked whenever they perceive their parental rights being taken from them, and I will further argue that the fight for this one child's possible rights is being undertaken in the most selfish of manners.
Homeschoolers, for some reason, seem more than willing to freak out over any perceived slight or injustice. This does us no good at all, and many of us could often stand to just shut the hell up until we actually know what we're talking about. The current issue is a perfect example. Amid all the hand wringing, those homeschoolers who are so sure that the state is going to swoop in and take their children away, not one of these bloggers has suggested that they have any idea what this treatment is or what it entails. Regardless of this lack of key knowledge, the blogs pile up supporting this child and his parents.
The selfishness arises when I realize that these people don't seem to care one bit about cancer sufferers. Yes, they scream, let this child and his family go to Mexico and get rid of his cancer. We all know that Mexican medicine is at the very height of all medicine in the world. I'm sure that they are light years ahead of the US in medical technology and research. That's why so many people are going to Mexico to have their medical needs attended to. So, if this treatment is so valid, why are we only arguing about one insignificant child? Why are we not angry that our government and doctors are hiding this treatment? Why don't we care just as much for all the other people with cancer that may not know that there is a magical cancer treatment in Mexico? Why, if this treatment is valid, aren't we angry that our government should keep it from us?
Would any of us care at all about this child if he were not homeschooled? Would this story have risen to cause du jour if he attended public schools? I'm sure some of us would have jumped on the story as it has those lovely parental rights highlights that are perfect for us to rant about. Would we damn the family if they had chosen to use therapies involving the cannabis plant?
The cannabis plant, more commonly known as marijuana, has been proven able to halt tumor growth as well as to shrink tumors. It is also useful to counteract many of the negative side effects of chemotherapy. Beyond these uses, there are myriad other proven uses for marijuana in a number of treatments for a number of illnesses. It is an alternative medicine, yet apparently when some people's god gave them the plants, he didn't mean marijuana. That one is reserved for us sinners.
Instead of fussing about this one child, why don't you all confront the bigger problem? It isn't that the state might take your kids away if you don't use the best possible therapy for helping your child get well. The big problem is that so many of you have no knowledge of what's really happening, and you are content to stay this way. You only have time for one cause du jour at a time, and it better fit into you world view.
I won't argue any of those points as I personally haven't quite formed an opinion yet. What I will argue is that homeschool blogs are want to go off half cocked whenever they perceive their parental rights being taken from them, and I will further argue that the fight for this one child's possible rights is being undertaken in the most selfish of manners.
Homeschoolers, for some reason, seem more than willing to freak out over any perceived slight or injustice. This does us no good at all, and many of us could often stand to just shut the hell up until we actually know what we're talking about. The current issue is a perfect example. Amid all the hand wringing, those homeschoolers who are so sure that the state is going to swoop in and take their children away, not one of these bloggers has suggested that they have any idea what this treatment is or what it entails. Regardless of this lack of key knowledge, the blogs pile up supporting this child and his parents.
The selfishness arises when I realize that these people don't seem to care one bit about cancer sufferers. Yes, they scream, let this child and his family go to Mexico and get rid of his cancer. We all know that Mexican medicine is at the very height of all medicine in the world. I'm sure that they are light years ahead of the US in medical technology and research. That's why so many people are going to Mexico to have their medical needs attended to. So, if this treatment is so valid, why are we only arguing about one insignificant child? Why are we not angry that our government and doctors are hiding this treatment? Why don't we care just as much for all the other people with cancer that may not know that there is a magical cancer treatment in Mexico? Why, if this treatment is valid, aren't we angry that our government should keep it from us?
Would any of us care at all about this child if he were not homeschooled? Would this story have risen to cause du jour if he attended public schools? I'm sure some of us would have jumped on the story as it has those lovely parental rights highlights that are perfect for us to rant about. Would we damn the family if they had chosen to use therapies involving the cannabis plant?
The cannabis plant, more commonly known as marijuana, has been proven able to halt tumor growth as well as to shrink tumors. It is also useful to counteract many of the negative side effects of chemotherapy. Beyond these uses, there are myriad other proven uses for marijuana in a number of treatments for a number of illnesses. It is an alternative medicine, yet apparently when some people's god gave them the plants, he didn't mean marijuana. That one is reserved for us sinners.
Instead of fussing about this one child, why don't you all confront the bigger problem? It isn't that the state might take your kids away if you don't use the best possible therapy for helping your child get well. The big problem is that so many of you have no knowledge of what's really happening, and you are content to stay this way. You only have time for one cause du jour at a time, and it better fit into you world view.
Saturday, July 15, 2006
watching bears eat sound fun?
I won't go through all the twists and links that led me to the blog that led me to the bears. I will tell you that the bears link came from No Direction Home, a photo blog of a self described High Tech Drifter. I recently learned of this blog and pretty much immediately put it in my Bloglines. The blogger, in addition to hiking some really cool places, takes some really nice pictures. He also has a post about his own recent bear experience which is worth scrolling down to.
The bears in question have not eaten that I've seen, but I just haven't happened to have caught them at it yet. Of course, show me a bear that doesn't eat, and I'll show you a ratty rug. This link opens up a lovely little world, a live webcam at McNeil's River Falls in Alaska. At one point today I may have counted up to ten bears, but the camera changes angle and focus at times, and it did while I was counting.
So gather the kids round and look at the bears. It's cool, and it's fun, and it's edumacational somehow.
The bears in question have not eaten that I've seen, but I just haven't happened to have caught them at it yet. Of course, show me a bear that doesn't eat, and I'll show you a ratty rug. This link opens up a lovely little world, a live webcam at McNeil's River Falls in Alaska. At one point today I may have counted up to ten bears, but the camera changes angle and focus at times, and it did while I was counting.
So gather the kids round and look at the bears. It's cool, and it's fun, and it's edumacational somehow.
Friday, July 14, 2006
cheetos and the mouse
No, I don't mean the "eek, woman on a chair" kind of mouse. I mean that little hand held computer controller, the one that gets all kinds of funky if you are not careful. I mean the mouse with one ball that sometimes needs cleaning so that your cursor works properly so that I don't become more of a curser.
It's lunchtime which is really simple today. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with cheetos. I have to have the crunchy cheetos because all the other ones just suck. But they all leave you with that tasty orange residue, the only orange that is more orange than the blood of a million Vols fans, cheetoh orange, which doesn't look very pretty on the smoky grey mouse.
So I eat the cheetohs with my tongue. That's my internet tip for the day. When eating cheetohs while using the computer, pick them up with your tongue. That, as an exercise, and learning to breathe through my ears will make me the queen of the lesbian ball, which is a whole other post.
HA! lesbians and balls, not the most common duo/trio in the world and proof why I generally don't say everything I think.
It's lunchtime which is really simple today. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with cheetos. I have to have the crunchy cheetos because all the other ones just suck. But they all leave you with that tasty orange residue, the only orange that is more orange than the blood of a million Vols fans, cheetoh orange, which doesn't look very pretty on the smoky grey mouse.
So I eat the cheetohs with my tongue. That's my internet tip for the day. When eating cheetohs while using the computer, pick them up with your tongue. That, as an exercise, and learning to breathe through my ears will make me the queen of the lesbian ball, which is a whole other post.
HA! lesbians and balls, not the most common duo/trio in the world and proof why I generally don't say everything I think.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
peaches and woe: a rant
Yes, a short tail of the peaches and my long running disdain, and often anger, with the abilities of the grocery store bagger.
I bought several donut peaches at the store yesterday. They have a very strong yet mild perfumey smell to them. It's strong if you're standing over the bin of peaches, but a few in the plastic bag were actually overwhelmed by the plastic bag, strong yet mild.
I picked carefully, selecting peaches with a good scent and no bruising. I carefully lowered them into the bag, excited at the little treat that should reside within these delicate little morsels. Peaches are delicate anyway, but these little guys are even more delicate.
Preparing lunch today, I put our sandwiches together and turned to the fruit part. Those peaches sat, still in the bag, waiting for us to dive in. What went into the bag as fruit that was as perfect as possible came out of the bag almost inedible. They were bruised, each and every one, over at least a third of their tiny bodies.
I've thought before that I should just demand to bag my own groceries. I don't feel that I'm really that anal about it, but I pay attention. I was taught to bag groceries many years ago at a grocery store job. It wasn't a class on the subject, but a sense of order and appropriateness was taught in the methodology of placing items into a bag. I find it doubtful the many people care based on my experience with bagging.
I really don't feel I'm asking much, and I don't expect every employee in a store to be aware of the nuances of all their products. I do want the person bagging my groceries to know how to handle produce. Regardless of the product, I take the time to check it out. I'll walk away from bad produce and change my menu before I buy crap. You can believe that I didn't purchase bad fruit or damage it. Yet I am throwing away half the amount of peach that I purchased because I also won't serve bad fruit.
I borrowed the picture from VegiWorks, and when I say borrow, I mean that I used Google image search to find some pretty peaches, and I like these guys' site the best, so I used the picture. I haven't checked the site out much, but it's pretty.
the truth of the matter
One has to love when the random comic in his or her bloglines holds so much truth. So for those among us who feel that the issue of media bias is more important that all the other calamitous actions by our leaders, I give you this link.
diversity, faith and not needing the crutch
Sometimes I don't mind taking over Darryl's blog comments to rant my point, but I don't feel like that today. I feel that my wandering mind will be best suited by making my argument from my own little home on the nets.
Scott Somerville basically asks why we can't all get along. Homeschooling is not the grossly over peopled christian family of blond haired, blue eyed children of the corn that we see so often. For a fact, they are a part of our community and should be as welcome as the hairy armpit hippy mom nursing both her seven and five year old hippy progeny. Somewhere in between those two extremes are the science teacher with nothing but disdain for the school system, the old punk mostly grown up, the hip knitting momma, the single parent wondering if it's really doable. In other words, homeschooling, like America, is a mixed up pile of every single one of us, and to make it more crazy, even gay people and black people are homeschooling. One family's extreme sounds just about right to someone else.
I really want to be fair to everyone which for me means that no one person or stereotype of a group is any more or less lambasted by what passes for humor in my mind. But I find that certain segments within homeschooling, and throughout average American life, just can't seem to hold onto common sense for longer than it takes to pray about it.
One thing that has to be understood, most people of faith seem totally convinced that their freedom to practice religion is being undermined and attacked, that the heathens and gays and atheists and humanists are out to steal their rights and turn their kids gay. They are certain that to pray in school would call down the ire of the ACLU and land them in jail. They fret daily that exposure to evolutionist facts will erase a lifetime of stories about Jesus and Paul and Gideon. They fear that our system of laws will collapse and the jails will spew out all those evil people if they can't chisel the ten commandments into the walls of all the court houses in the nation. Again, fact or not, this is how it seems to me.
So how do the christians fight this battle that exists mostly in their minds and churches? They would very much like to be in control and force a theocracy onto the rest of us. When we try to teach religious fables as equal to proven science, what else can it be but theocracy? When we damn people for the kind of things they do that shouldn't be any of our business, and we damn them using a religious text, what else can it be but theocracy?
It isn't hard to get along when people meet each other with the assurance of respect for one another. But when one side has a faith agenda to push, that getting along gets pushed away. Even worse is when that faith agenda is forced onto others in a smothering cloak of religious over reaching. And it isn't that other people care about the religion of the faith agenda side, because more often than not, I for one would love to not care at all about someone's beliefs. I'd be happy to not be forced to care, yet the faith people can't let it be easy. They have to push their faith as if they deserve extra rights just for being good enough. Sadly, most of these people are not good enough and in fact are no more christian acting than many atheists, gays or humanists.
So what's to be done? For a start, the christians could just shut their mouths sometimes. Maybe just bite down on the hate filled words before they fall out of your mouth. Stop using the phrase "gay agenda" and pretending that gay people want something more than equality. Stop trying to force us all to abide by your interpretations. Stop pretending that we should all bow to your idea of a god. Stop pretending that we are somehow less than you because we don't believe the same. Stop suggesting that our desire for equality is somehow undermining your ability to practice your religion. If your faith and religion are about more than hate mongering then please start to act in a way that proves what you say. Stop being dicks to everyone.
Scott Somerville basically asks why we can't all get along. Homeschooling is not the grossly over peopled christian family of blond haired, blue eyed children of the corn that we see so often. For a fact, they are a part of our community and should be as welcome as the hairy armpit hippy mom nursing both her seven and five year old hippy progeny. Somewhere in between those two extremes are the science teacher with nothing but disdain for the school system, the old punk mostly grown up, the hip knitting momma, the single parent wondering if it's really doable. In other words, homeschooling, like America, is a mixed up pile of every single one of us, and to make it more crazy, even gay people and black people are homeschooling. One family's extreme sounds just about right to someone else.
I really want to be fair to everyone which for me means that no one person or stereotype of a group is any more or less lambasted by what passes for humor in my mind. But I find that certain segments within homeschooling, and throughout average American life, just can't seem to hold onto common sense for longer than it takes to pray about it.
One thing that has to be understood, most people of faith seem totally convinced that their freedom to practice religion is being undermined and attacked, that the heathens and gays and atheists and humanists are out to steal their rights and turn their kids gay. They are certain that to pray in school would call down the ire of the ACLU and land them in jail. They fret daily that exposure to evolutionist facts will erase a lifetime of stories about Jesus and Paul and Gideon. They fear that our system of laws will collapse and the jails will spew out all those evil people if they can't chisel the ten commandments into the walls of all the court houses in the nation. Again, fact or not, this is how it seems to me.
So how do the christians fight this battle that exists mostly in their minds and churches? They would very much like to be in control and force a theocracy onto the rest of us. When we try to teach religious fables as equal to proven science, what else can it be but theocracy? When we damn people for the kind of things they do that shouldn't be any of our business, and we damn them using a religious text, what else can it be but theocracy?
It isn't hard to get along when people meet each other with the assurance of respect for one another. But when one side has a faith agenda to push, that getting along gets pushed away. Even worse is when that faith agenda is forced onto others in a smothering cloak of religious over reaching. And it isn't that other people care about the religion of the faith agenda side, because more often than not, I for one would love to not care at all about someone's beliefs. I'd be happy to not be forced to care, yet the faith people can't let it be easy. They have to push their faith as if they deserve extra rights just for being good enough. Sadly, most of these people are not good enough and in fact are no more christian acting than many atheists, gays or humanists.
So what's to be done? For a start, the christians could just shut their mouths sometimes. Maybe just bite down on the hate filled words before they fall out of your mouth. Stop using the phrase "gay agenda" and pretending that gay people want something more than equality. Stop trying to force us all to abide by your interpretations. Stop pretending that we should all bow to your idea of a god. Stop pretending that we are somehow less than you because we don't believe the same. Stop suggesting that our desire for equality is somehow undermining your ability to practice your religion. If your faith and religion are about more than hate mongering then please start to act in a way that proves what you say. Stop being dicks to everyone.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
holy quintuples Batman
Frankie wants to know what five things I have in a variety of places.
Fridge, handbag, wardrobe, car
The fridge
-various beers that are the last couple from a six pack that wasn't finished before the next along with a couple of Duck Rabbits dropped at the sushi bar where Momma works by the sales rep. The beer was left by the sales rep as opposed to Momma working next to him.
-Calhoun's leftovers, half of Big Brother's grouper sandwich
-red beans and rice leftover from earlier tonight
-buttermilk
-pickles, because, ignoring the sodium, it isn't the worst snack
Handbag? yeah, I can't say I carry one. I'll do the wallet instead.
-TN alcohol server permit card
-library card
-something that Momma wrote me in the early days of our dating that I think is most likely a letter. I haven't pulled it out in ages, and I'm afraid to as it's grown fragile over the years.
-"get out of hell free" card that is meant as a tract but gives me a fit of giggles each and every time I happen upon it nestled away in the recesses
-Food City card
Wardrobe, well, there's no lions or witches or bears oh my . . .and precious little humor in the blog oh my . . .
-clunkin' big black and white wing tips that I wish I'd waited to buy until I found a more reasonable pair.
-humidifier
-funeral suit because yes, I seldom wear a suit except to a funeral. It's not that I mind dressing nicely, but I so seldom have the chance or reason
-plenty of clothes that would please me more were they to end up at Goodwill, though sadly, good will alone won't transport them away.
-plastic pocketed door hanging thing that is full mostly of . . .hmmmm . . . what did Momma put in that thing?
Car-in which we wish for style for it to all be about
-directions to people's houses that we save because we never know when we'll need them again
-cd's to which we rock out
-umbrella
-chairs that live in the car and mostly get used at soccer games
-Momma's roller derby gear which lives in the car trunk
Fridge, handbag, wardrobe, car
The fridge
-various beers that are the last couple from a six pack that wasn't finished before the next along with a couple of Duck Rabbits dropped at the sushi bar where Momma works by the sales rep. The beer was left by the sales rep as opposed to Momma working next to him.
-Calhoun's leftovers, half of Big Brother's grouper sandwich
-red beans and rice leftover from earlier tonight
-buttermilk
-pickles, because, ignoring the sodium, it isn't the worst snack
Handbag? yeah, I can't say I carry one. I'll do the wallet instead.
-TN alcohol server permit card
-library card
-something that Momma wrote me in the early days of our dating that I think is most likely a letter. I haven't pulled it out in ages, and I'm afraid to as it's grown fragile over the years.
-"get out of hell free" card that is meant as a tract but gives me a fit of giggles each and every time I happen upon it nestled away in the recesses
-Food City card
Wardrobe, well, there's no lions or witches or bears oh my . . .and precious little humor in the blog oh my . . .
-clunkin' big black and white wing tips that I wish I'd waited to buy until I found a more reasonable pair.
-humidifier
-funeral suit because yes, I seldom wear a suit except to a funeral. It's not that I mind dressing nicely, but I so seldom have the chance or reason
-plenty of clothes that would please me more were they to end up at Goodwill, though sadly, good will alone won't transport them away.
-plastic pocketed door hanging thing that is full mostly of . . .hmmmm . . . what did Momma put in that thing?
Car-in which we wish for style for it to all be about
-directions to people's houses that we save because we never know when we'll need them again
-cd's to which we rock out
-umbrella
-chairs that live in the car and mostly get used at soccer games
-Momma's roller derby gear which lives in the car trunk
a tale of two vacuum cleaners
We have two different vacuum cleaners. One of them is larger, has attachments and a bag. The other is much smaller, intended for small spaces and has a detachable receptacle.
They both work, yet the smaller one works much better, seeming to have much more power. The problem is that it works so well that it must be emptied very often. I can vacuum the entire house with the larger machine and not fill the bag. But the floor isn't clean when I finish meaning of course that I'm not finished. The smaller vacuum is much easier to drag around making it easier to use before you factor in the messy, dusty dump stops.
Admittedly, the amount of emptying is more a statement on my regular cleaning than anything else. Yet having used both machines, it's apparent which works better. It's also apparent that I need to clean much more often and more regularly.
All that to say that I am not finished with my cleaning for the day. I won't even get into all the random crap that doesn't have a real home or no home yet. There's the huge box of pictures that have collected over the years that need labeling and ordering. There's the train tracks and engines that have grown as a collection to a size where they don't even fit in a laundry basket and old shoe box combined. I need to open the attic to put away Momma's and my winter coats. And then the box of audio cassettes. We don't really listen to most of them any more, yet we are not willing to just get rid of them either.
Oh well, less bitching and more cleaning might be the key here.
They both work, yet the smaller one works much better, seeming to have much more power. The problem is that it works so well that it must be emptied very often. I can vacuum the entire house with the larger machine and not fill the bag. But the floor isn't clean when I finish meaning of course that I'm not finished. The smaller vacuum is much easier to drag around making it easier to use before you factor in the messy, dusty dump stops.
Admittedly, the amount of emptying is more a statement on my regular cleaning than anything else. Yet having used both machines, it's apparent which works better. It's also apparent that I need to clean much more often and more regularly.
All that to say that I am not finished with my cleaning for the day. I won't even get into all the random crap that doesn't have a real home or no home yet. There's the huge box of pictures that have collected over the years that need labeling and ordering. There's the train tracks and engines that have grown as a collection to a size where they don't even fit in a laundry basket and old shoe box combined. I need to open the attic to put away Momma's and my winter coats. And then the box of audio cassettes. We don't really listen to most of them any more, yet we are not willing to just get rid of them either.
Oh well, less bitching and more cleaning might be the key here.
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