SOTD returns

...or, Male Readers Feel Free to Talk Football and Politics.

My shoe collection had dwindled down to almost nothing. For the past month I have been wearing the same sad, ugly, uncomfortable, squeaky pair of loafers to work every day. This gave me persistent Sad Face.

Today, however, I found 7 pair of shoes at the thrift store. Wooot! To celebrate, I shall share them with you.

Father's Day

Here for your edification are a few Classic Sayings of My Dad, for Father's Day. He's the baby in the photo, by the way.

Measure twice, cut once.
No daughter of mine is going to leave the house looking like that.
You think you can live on love, but one of these days you're gonna want a cheeseburger.
You've got to broaden your horizons.
We'll see.
If you want something specific, ask for it. If you ask for "a couple dollars," you're gonna get two.
In high school, the teachers chase you around, trying to teach. In college, you chase the teachers around, trying to learn.
Don't get an English degree. Study business.
Women civilize men.
Men are wired to protect and provide for their families. You think you understand, but you can't, because you're not a man, and I'm sorry but that is the truth.
Don't move to Asia. They make you eat rice three times a day.
Trucks are supposed to have dents. That proves you did stuff.
It's not hard, you just have to do it.
And the all-time favorite: Listen to your mother. I have to live with her.

George Bush Doesn't Care About Tone-Deaf People

Today started out sucky. By lunchtime, my coworkers in the newsroom were afraid to come near my desk, because the ooze of awful was sure to spread. But somehow after that it calmed down. And tonight? Tonight was genius.

Son #4 got coupons for CiCi's Pizza, which, for those out of the loop, is a horrible all-you-can-eat pizza place.They have great cinnamon rolls, and a passable salad bar, and it was about $32 to feed all 5 of us, so OK, we went.

And when we got there, they had karaoke.

We stayed for about 2 hours, because we were laughing so hard. It was hilarious. But the best part was when Son #1 grabbed the microphone from the little blonde girl singing a Taylor Swift song and said,

"I think you're a really good karaoke singer, and I respect you, but Beyonce is the best karaoke singer, EVER."

I have not laughed so hard in months. And boy, did I need it.

The Hurt (your wallet) Locker

Let me just quote Son #3:

"Gym lockers are mandatory. I never used mine. And I did not know, when they assigned me the locker, that there was a $3 fee for it. If I don't pay the fee, they won't let me graduate. I had to pay for a regular locker, too. $5. And I shouldn't have had to pay for that, either, because I never used it, never wanted it, but it's mandatory. It's not a lot of money, but still. It's like when you're at a stop light and some hobo 'washes' your windshield with dirty water, and expects you to pay him. Of course, there's nothing wrong with NOT paying the hobo, but if you don't pay the government, they won't let you graduate."

Excellent analogy, my son who was just informed he has been selected for a program for students with the potential to be high academic achievers.

And on a totally unrelated note (or absolutely connected, depending on your perspective), yesterday I had to proofread an article about negotiations between the school board and the teacher's union of a nearby public school system.

The union rep insisted that the schools would never be able to hire enough summer school teachers, if they did not raise the pay rate by $4/hour. The rate the school system is currently offering summer school teachers is, according to the union rep, "not even what they pay a first-year teacher."

What is this pittance they expect teachers to accept in exchange for their services on a summer morning? This ridiculously low amount no teacher in a sane frame of mind would stoop to accept?

$41/hour.

No, that is not a typo.

Honest.

Nip it, in the bud

Today was my 3rd day at the newspapers, which actually was only my 2nd day at the local one.

Got that straight?

Anyway, today they had their weekly "what's everyone working on?" meeting. Since I'm new, and the paper had been kinda holding my position open for a while, and I am writing Features, I am just starting to figure out what to write. I have a few article ideas which were handed to me on my first day, generally with a groan of relief that someone, anyone (else), is going to write these.

I'm doing a good bit of religious coverage, and First! African-American! Woman! stuff, and volunteer profiles, and stuff women do, and evergreen stories of happy people and kindness and adorable puppies and...you got it, Christine's covering the Girl Beat.

Not entirely, but, hey, I can see it.

This afternoon the newsroom was mostly empty for a while--just me and the police scanner. And then my desk buddy, who covers the Navy as part of his beat, came back from an assignment.Since the Navy is his beat, I feel obligated to give him first dibs on stuff like that. I also kinda figure that if he sees me as someone who gives him work when I find it, he'll pass things to me when he has extra stuff, too.

It's that half-Italian upbringing: we know all about One Hand Washes the Other.

I mentioned a few article ideas I have, and a few more which were suggested to me by a good friend---things with a Navy tie-in. I loved my 2 months on base, and would take any opportunity to go back.

He snagged one, and left the rest for me, and then he acknowledged that my instincts are correct: I am in a room full of men, and they all are glad they can shove all their Girly Crap my way.

And I'm more than happy to do it. All of it. I just need to make sure that they all can see that once my daily ration of Girly Crap is completed, I can also cover harder stuff. Realistically, that is not going to happen all that often, I don't think. The guys aren't going to just hand over stories about Things That Go Boom, because they like those stories. They'll mostly give me the stuff that makes their eyes glaze over. I know that. Heck, they even admit it.

But I made it clear, I think, that when they need to be 2 places at once, no one needs to hesitate. I am, after all, Sickeningly Industrious.

What we sound like