Real school. For all 4 Sons.
I think I need to breathe into a paper bag.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Great movies to see without my parents
Hubby and I took the Sons to see District 9 this weekend. It was nothing like the (preachy, campy) movie we expected to see, but we all enjoyed it.
But, um...if no one ever says the F word again, I will not miss it, ok? And the Sons all seemed to think the nature of the violence was very shocking--although I think the previews we sat through before the film started were a lot more scary and gruesome.
Yes, there were some plot holes. And I could not shake the feeling that the entire movie was building up to something which did not arrive. But we liked it.
But, um...if no one ever says the F word again, I will not miss it, ok? And the Sons all seemed to think the nature of the violence was very shocking--although I think the previews we sat through before the film started were a lot more scary and gruesome.
Yes, there were some plot holes. And I could not shake the feeling that the entire movie was building up to something which did not arrive. But we liked it.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
And now, to convince you all I am crazy
Growing up, I did not wear sunscreen.
Suntan lotion, sure. SPF 4, I think, most of the time, when I was laying out or going to a theme park with absolutely zero shade for the day. Tanning oil, just as likely, because that stuff made you look all bronzey and sleek like you lived on the Riviera.
And yes, I am half Italian, but only half. I had a tendency to tan, but never get really dark, and I would burn on occasion, but generally just across the bridge of my nose, once or twice a summer. It was just no big deal.
Then sunscreen became CRUCIAL, according to everyone with any voice at all.
If we weren't using sunscreen we were CRAZY, right? We were going to get all wrinkly, and get skin cancer. Right? And God forbid you not slather your kids in the stuff every hour on the hour.
OK, so I did it. I became a sunscreen fanatic, just like everyone else.
Maybe 7 years ago, I noticed: I was burning EASY. At first I blamed it on a course of antibiotics I took. But then I wasn't on antibiotics anymore, and still burning to a crisp whenever I was in the sun for more than 20 minutes. I switched to SPF 30. No difference.
I blamed it on the famed hole in the ozone layer. I increased my SPF to 45. I continued to burn.
I blamed it on being Over Thirty-Five. I lost the ability to tan in any attractive fashion--any exposure to the sun for more than half an hour meant I would burn, no matter what, and probably get funky, irregular tan patches that looked more like dirt than the Bain de Soleil lady of my youthful memories.
Slather, slather, slather.
Then about 6 months ago my doctor discovered I have a severe Vitamin D deficiency.
Remember Vitamin D? The "sunshine vitamin"? Yeah, that one. My doctor said she is surprised to note that many of her patients are rather deficient.
She put me on prescription levels of Vitamin D. And I started ignoring the sunscreen, for the most part, and going out into the sun. On purpose. For an hour or two, in the middle of the day, with no sunscreen and no hat and no sleeeeeeeeves, even.
And I got a little sunburn, at first.
And then I started to tan. Kinda evenly, even. And I'm not really burning anymore, except, you know, at the edge of my clothes if I wear something closer-cut than usual.
I'm still on the prescription D, because even after all that AND a full course of the stuff I still test out as severely deficient. But I think I have pretty much given up sunscreen. And you know what? I feel better than I have in years.
Going out in the sun feels great. It makes me feel better physically and emotionally. I think I've been starving myself of Vitamin D and it has done me no good, only harm, all these years.
So, hey, maybe you should check your vitamin D levels.
Due dilligence: let me confess that there is no history of skin cancer in my family or hubby's, so I am not worried about any of that for me or the boys (who are thrilled that I no longer nag them to wear more sunscreen than they choose on their own). If I earn myself a few more wrinkles in my later years, I figure it is a worthwhile trade-off.
Suntan lotion, sure. SPF 4, I think, most of the time, when I was laying out or going to a theme park with absolutely zero shade for the day. Tanning oil, just as likely, because that stuff made you look all bronzey and sleek like you lived on the Riviera.
And yes, I am half Italian, but only half. I had a tendency to tan, but never get really dark, and I would burn on occasion, but generally just across the bridge of my nose, once or twice a summer. It was just no big deal.
Then sunscreen became CRUCIAL, according to everyone with any voice at all.
If we weren't using sunscreen we were CRAZY, right? We were going to get all wrinkly, and get skin cancer. Right? And God forbid you not slather your kids in the stuff every hour on the hour.
OK, so I did it. I became a sunscreen fanatic, just like everyone else.
Maybe 7 years ago, I noticed: I was burning EASY. At first I blamed it on a course of antibiotics I took. But then I wasn't on antibiotics anymore, and still burning to a crisp whenever I was in the sun for more than 20 minutes. I switched to SPF 30. No difference.
I blamed it on the famed hole in the ozone layer. I increased my SPF to 45. I continued to burn.
I blamed it on being Over Thirty-Five. I lost the ability to tan in any attractive fashion--any exposure to the sun for more than half an hour meant I would burn, no matter what, and probably get funky, irregular tan patches that looked more like dirt than the Bain de Soleil lady of my youthful memories.
Slather, slather, slather.
Then about 6 months ago my doctor discovered I have a severe Vitamin D deficiency.
Remember Vitamin D? The "sunshine vitamin"? Yeah, that one. My doctor said she is surprised to note that many of her patients are rather deficient.
She put me on prescription levels of Vitamin D. And I started ignoring the sunscreen, for the most part, and going out into the sun. On purpose. For an hour or two, in the middle of the day, with no sunscreen and no hat and no sleeeeeeeeves, even.
And I got a little sunburn, at first.
And then I started to tan. Kinda evenly, even. And I'm not really burning anymore, except, you know, at the edge of my clothes if I wear something closer-cut than usual.
I'm still on the prescription D, because even after all that AND a full course of the stuff I still test out as severely deficient. But I think I have pretty much given up sunscreen. And you know what? I feel better than I have in years.
Going out in the sun feels great. It makes me feel better physically and emotionally. I think I've been starving myself of Vitamin D and it has done me no good, only harm, all these years.
So, hey, maybe you should check your vitamin D levels.
Due dilligence: let me confess that there is no history of skin cancer in my family or hubby's, so I am not worried about any of that for me or the boys (who are thrilled that I no longer nag them to wear more sunscreen than they choose on their own). If I earn myself a few more wrinkles in my later years, I figure it is a worthwhile trade-off.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
To Be Fair
Today Son #3 and I went back to the registrar and got him registered. And she handled it all, in about 45 minutes, with apparent competence and all that. So maybe she is good, once she puts her "working person" hat on.
Still have to go back next week to schedule him for actual classes, but at least they are expecting him, on some level.
Still have to go back next week to schedule him for actual classes, but at least they are expecting him, on some level.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
See, now this is why we didn't want to be with you people
Sons #3 and 4 are entering the school system this year.
A few weeks ago, I realized, "hmmm, it is almost midsummer, I should register the boys." So I called the high school and left a message for the registrar.
"Hi, I have an incoming freshman who has been home-schooled since second grade so I need to make an appointment to register him. Give me a call."
No response.
A week or so later, I called again.
"Hi, I called last week about an incoming freshman who needs to register for school. Here is my home number and my cell number; I will come in with him at your convenience."
No response.
A week later, I called again, this time the main office.
"Hi, I have left two messages for the registrar, and the registrar's office has not returned my calls. Is there someone else I should call to make an appointment to come in and register my son, and make sure I have all his paperwork in order?"
No response.
I called the middle school and they said, "Oh, you don't need an appointment, just drop by." So I did. Got #4 all set up in maybe 15 minutes. Since they are in the same school district, I figured the paperwork the high school would need would be pretty much the same as the middle school. I had gone through this process with Son #1 and Son #2 in years past, as well. So I gathered everything, put it in an envelope, and this morning I said,
"Son #3, they are NOT returning my calls, so I guess we don't need an appointment, or if we do we're not going to get one, since school starts in less than 3 weeks. Let's just go."
So we did.
We went to the counseling department and the registrar was standing in the middle of the office, hand on hip, yakking about personal stuff with her coworkers. She looked up at me and said, "Do you have an appointment?"
"No, I've been calling for the past three weeks to request an appointment and no one has returned my calls."
"Sorry," she said. "I get, like, 20 to 30 calls a day."
(and three of those have been from me, this month, and could have just been ONE call, if you'd handled it the first time around, so I wonder how much of that phone ringing you bring on yourself by not answering the phone)
She said I could have an appointment. So I followed her back to her office, where she asked when I'd like to come in.
"As soon as possible. School starts in a little over 2 weeks."
She handed me a list of all the paperwork I need. Which I had, in my hand. I told her so. She offered to keep my envelope in her office, until our appointment tomorrow. Yeah, like I am going to give her my son's Social Security card and birth certificate to keep. Sure.
She reviewed the list of paperwork, again, and I again stated, "Yes, I have all of that ready for you whenever you are ready to process it."
A third time she pointed to the list, and enumerated the various things which I would need to bring...and...which...I...had...assured...her...were...in...my...lap...already.
Then she asked for transcripts-or-equivalent, and I explained to her twice why I have them in an unfamiliar format, but that I have the information required by the state, and that I would give it to her at our appointment.
So, tomorrow Son #3 and I go back for our appointment, which will probably take all of 15 minutes.
I swear, though, that woman should be ashamed of herself for accepting a paycheck.
A few weeks ago, I realized, "hmmm, it is almost midsummer, I should register the boys." So I called the high school and left a message for the registrar.
"Hi, I have an incoming freshman who has been home-schooled since second grade so I need to make an appointment to register him. Give me a call."
No response.
A week or so later, I called again.
"Hi, I called last week about an incoming freshman who needs to register for school. Here is my home number and my cell number; I will come in with him at your convenience."
No response.
A week later, I called again, this time the main office.
"Hi, I have left two messages for the registrar, and the registrar's office has not returned my calls. Is there someone else I should call to make an appointment to come in and register my son, and make sure I have all his paperwork in order?"
No response.
I called the middle school and they said, "Oh, you don't need an appointment, just drop by." So I did. Got #4 all set up in maybe 15 minutes. Since they are in the same school district, I figured the paperwork the high school would need would be pretty much the same as the middle school. I had gone through this process with Son #1 and Son #2 in years past, as well. So I gathered everything, put it in an envelope, and this morning I said,
"Son #3, they are NOT returning my calls, so I guess we don't need an appointment, or if we do we're not going to get one, since school starts in less than 3 weeks. Let's just go."
So we did.
We went to the counseling department and the registrar was standing in the middle of the office, hand on hip, yakking about personal stuff with her coworkers. She looked up at me and said, "Do you have an appointment?"
"No, I've been calling for the past three weeks to request an appointment and no one has returned my calls."
"Sorry," she said. "I get, like, 20 to 30 calls a day."
(and three of those have been from me, this month, and could have just been ONE call, if you'd handled it the first time around, so I wonder how much of that phone ringing you bring on yourself by not answering the phone)
She said I could have an appointment. So I followed her back to her office, where she asked when I'd like to come in.
"As soon as possible. School starts in a little over 2 weeks."
She handed me a list of all the paperwork I need. Which I had, in my hand. I told her so. She offered to keep my envelope in her office, until our appointment tomorrow. Yeah, like I am going to give her my son's Social Security card and birth certificate to keep. Sure.
She reviewed the list of paperwork, again, and I again stated, "Yes, I have all of that ready for you whenever you are ready to process it."
A third time she pointed to the list, and enumerated the various things which I would need to bring...and...which...I...had...assured...her...were...in...my...lap...already.
Then she asked for transcripts-or-equivalent, and I explained to her twice why I have them in an unfamiliar format, but that I have the information required by the state, and that I would give it to her at our appointment.
So, tomorrow Son #3 and I go back for our appointment, which will probably take all of 15 minutes.
I swear, though, that woman should be ashamed of herself for accepting a paycheck.
Thursday, August 06, 2009
Happy Anniversary, Baby!
Yes, Hubby and I have been married for 21 years. So, you know, even our marriage is old enough to drink.
Here's the #1 song for August 6, 1988, should you be either old enough to reminisce or young enough to think it interesting.
Here's the #1 song for August 6, 1988, should you be either old enough to reminisce or young enough to think it interesting.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Maybe not racism, but racial attitudes?
About 12 years ago, or so, the Sons visited my parents for a few days.
Yeah, that meant my parents had four children under the age of five in their house at the same time. It was, to say the least, an adventure.
Part of that adventure included the police.
Son #1 dialed the police; my parents had it on speed-dial, so he only had to hit one button. The police called the house, and my dad explained that no, they didn't need to come out, it was just his little scamp of a grandson who did not sit still until he was sound asleep (and even then there was no guarantee, dear God that child did not sit still).
A few minutes later, Son #1 did it again.
This time, the police did not call. They showed up. My father explained, again, that they were just a little overwhelmed with the grandkids, and they were sorry for wasting the police's time, and they'd move that phone up to where a 4-year-old couldn't reach it.
And the police said, basically, that's all fine, but we still need to come in and look around.
So, my Dad invited them in. They looked at the house. They looked at my parents. They looked at the 4 wilding children. They confirmed that all was as my father said it was. Because, well, if my Dad had been held at gunpoint he might have said exactly the same thing.
It is the police's job to take seriously any call they get. Someone reports a crime, the police have to investigate. And my parents, as mortified as they were at the time, were also well aware that the police were there to help them out. That their intentions were noble and honorable. That if things were different, my parents would have been beyond grateful for the prompt and thorough attentions of the police.
So when Henry Louis Gates was asked to step out onto his porch, after neighbors reported a break-in at his house (a second break-in, apparently--the police had been there before while Gates was on vacation) and he shouted, "Why, because I'm a Black man in America?"
Well, it makes me think that it was not the police behaving badly, but the citizen jumping to race-based conclusions.
Racism is real. People get judged because of the color of their skin. I'm not saying that is not true. But I just think that in this case the cops were not the racist ones. They were just trying to protect the home owner from repeated crime.
Yeah, that meant my parents had four children under the age of five in their house at the same time. It was, to say the least, an adventure.
Part of that adventure included the police.
Son #1 dialed the police; my parents had it on speed-dial, so he only had to hit one button. The police called the house, and my dad explained that no, they didn't need to come out, it was just his little scamp of a grandson who did not sit still until he was sound asleep (and even then there was no guarantee, dear God that child did not sit still).
A few minutes later, Son #1 did it again.
This time, the police did not call. They showed up. My father explained, again, that they were just a little overwhelmed with the grandkids, and they were sorry for wasting the police's time, and they'd move that phone up to where a 4-year-old couldn't reach it.
And the police said, basically, that's all fine, but we still need to come in and look around.
So, my Dad invited them in. They looked at the house. They looked at my parents. They looked at the 4 wilding children. They confirmed that all was as my father said it was. Because, well, if my Dad had been held at gunpoint he might have said exactly the same thing.
It is the police's job to take seriously any call they get. Someone reports a crime, the police have to investigate. And my parents, as mortified as they were at the time, were also well aware that the police were there to help them out. That their intentions were noble and honorable. That if things were different, my parents would have been beyond grateful for the prompt and thorough attentions of the police.
So when Henry Louis Gates was asked to step out onto his porch, after neighbors reported a break-in at his house (a second break-in, apparently--the police had been there before while Gates was on vacation) and he shouted, "Why, because I'm a Black man in America?"
Well, it makes me think that it was not the police behaving badly, but the citizen jumping to race-based conclusions.
Racism is real. People get judged because of the color of their skin. I'm not saying that is not true. But I just think that in this case the cops were not the racist ones. They were just trying to protect the home owner from repeated crime.
Yeah, "Mark", I'm talking to you
I've been in Dell Tech Support Hell for the past couple of weeks, trying to fix Son #4's computer. My joy is made even more full with the knowledge that when I finally get this one fixed, I am going to have to move on to Son #3's computer. Basically, I am spending every free moment, and a lot which are NOT free, on the phone with people with hard-to-understand accents and a script which requires I shoot myself or throw the computer off a cliff before they'll honor the return-to-depot warranty we've purchased.
First, I had to convince them it was a hardware issue. That took about 6 hours, over 2 days.
Then, I had to convince them that the part they sent was not compatible with the machine. That took a while.
Now, I am working on convincing them that the second replacement part they sent is STILL not going to fit into the machine. Because it is not built for the machine we own. Because the tech support guys keep sending stuff that is not designed for our system.
I do not need it explained to me. I do not need to run one single minute of diagnostics, or talk to anyone else other than a supervisor--someone who can put an end to this and just get things fixed.
And I keep requesting said supervisor, which gets me put on hold.
Which is a good thing, because I use the time on hold to cook dinner.
Everyone in Tech Support sounds Indian, or something. I swear, they do not make enough curry to reimburse me for my time.
So yesterday, in a desperate bid to SHOW "Mark" that the part he sent is physically different from the part I am trying to replace, I offered to take a photo of the 2 hard drives, side-by-side, and email it to him.
He said I could.
I took the photo.
I saved it in a folder which I then named in a fit of "I am trying to be civil but these people have sent me over the edge and it's not like they'll ever know anyway".
And then he said I could not email it to him. Instead, I had to let him control my computer remotely, and find the photo and look at it that way.
So, yeah, that is when I had to tell "Mark" to look for the photo in the file labeled "Dell Bastards".
First, I had to convince them it was a hardware issue. That took about 6 hours, over 2 days.
Then, I had to convince them that the part they sent was not compatible with the machine. That took a while.
Now, I am working on convincing them that the second replacement part they sent is STILL not going to fit into the machine. Because it is not built for the machine we own. Because the tech support guys keep sending stuff that is not designed for our system.
I do not need it explained to me. I do not need to run one single minute of diagnostics, or talk to anyone else other than a supervisor--someone who can put an end to this and just get things fixed.
And I keep requesting said supervisor, which gets me put on hold.
Which is a good thing, because I use the time on hold to cook dinner.
Everyone in Tech Support sounds Indian, or something. I swear, they do not make enough curry to reimburse me for my time.
So yesterday, in a desperate bid to SHOW "Mark" that the part he sent is physically different from the part I am trying to replace, I offered to take a photo of the 2 hard drives, side-by-side, and email it to him.
He said I could.
I took the photo.
I saved it in a folder which I then named in a fit of "I am trying to be civil but these people have sent me over the edge and it's not like they'll ever know anyway".
And then he said I could not email it to him. Instead, I had to let him control my computer remotely, and find the photo and look at it that way.
So, yeah, that is when I had to tell "Mark" to look for the photo in the file labeled "Dell Bastards".
Monday, July 20, 2009
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Blues Jam
Fun, as always.
Hubby had the camera long enough to snap a few of these pictures, including a couple of me with a Son. Who knew I'd end up the kind of mom to take her kids out to bars on a Saturday night? I'm glad it's working out that way. And yes, those are my feet, in the Shoe of the Day.
Really, if you live within a couple hours of the Happy Boondocks, you should come out, some night. But for the rest of you, here's a taste: not a recording from last night, but a song I enjoy every time they play it:
Hubby had the camera long enough to snap a few of these pictures, including a couple of me with a Son. Who knew I'd end up the kind of mom to take her kids out to bars on a Saturday night? I'm glad it's working out that way. And yes, those are my feet, in the Shoe of the Day.
Really, if you live within a couple hours of the Happy Boondocks, you should come out, some night. But for the rest of you, here's a taste: not a recording from last night, but a song I enjoy every time they play it:
Saturday, July 18, 2009
I sorta won the dead pool
If you don't count all the people who died since we placed our bets (because none of them made it to our little familial list), anyway. Walter Cronkite is dead, and I did pick him.
I have fond (although, these days, vague) memories of Cronkite, but I have to admit that he started our mainstream news industry on a path it seems completely unwilling to leave: ignoring the facts to shape public opinion, so that public opinion would support a liberal cause, no matter what the tragic consequences might be.
RIP, though. Really.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
And That's The Difference Between Me & Son #1...
Son #2 explained it, in a moment of exasperation this afternoon:
"Say you needed help with your homework, or something. I would help you with your homework.. He would grab your homework, throw it out on the lawn, and laugh at you. And you would have to go out there and find it, and if you did that much you would be committed to doing your homework. And you'd be a better man for it."
Yeah, that pretty much sums it up. It also is a sparkling showcase for the next generation of familial sarcasm.
"Say you needed help with your homework, or something. I would help you with your homework.. He would grab your homework, throw it out on the lawn, and laugh at you. And you would have to go out there and find it, and if you did that much you would be committed to doing your homework. And you'd be a better man for it."
Yeah, that pretty much sums it up. It also is a sparkling showcase for the next generation of familial sarcasm.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Calvert Cliffs State Park
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Friday, July 10, 2009
I don't know him, I'm only driving him and laughing and we look alike
That is what I was thinking today.
Son #2 and I were in the car when we passed a guy in khakis and a dress shirt, biking down the road. He rolled down his window and shouted, "GET SOME SWEATPANTS!"
I just about bust a gut laughing. Because I am a bad mama.
Then tonight Son #1 and I went to the River Concert again (Rogers & Hammerstein) and he beat me in our weekly "how many people do you know here" game, 21 to 18. That was actually pretty impressive, for me.
Son #2 and I were in the car when we passed a guy in khakis and a dress shirt, biking down the road. He rolled down his window and shouted, "GET SOME SWEATPANTS!"
I just about bust a gut laughing. Because I am a bad mama.
Then tonight Son #1 and I went to the River Concert again (Rogers & Hammerstein) and he beat me in our weekly "how many people do you know here" game, 21 to 18. That was actually pretty impressive, for me.
Saturday, July 04, 2009
Ya see, Colin, not every one of us can just "keep in touch"
Remember when Colin Powell endorsed Obama, and then got all huffy about it? And couldn't understand why some people thought that endorsing a far-left Democrat might give people the impression that he was, on some level, not really the Republican he might once have been, or perhaps even that he was supporting Obama for racial reasons?
Now, Powell is not talking about Obama's "ease and calm" in decision making. He's concerned, these days, that Obama is easing-and-calming us into gigantic government programs we cannot run or afford.
Lemme 'splain it to you, Mr. Powell: Those of us who were against Obama before the election saw this coming. This is why we did not vote for him.
And maybe Obama can schmooze you, Mr. Powell, because you "keep in touch," but he is not talking to me, or millions of the rest of us. Not listening to us, and not charming the pants off us whenever we pick up the phone.
Maybe Powell was just too close to Obama to see the big picture.
Now, Powell is not talking about Obama's "ease and calm" in decision making. He's concerned, these days, that Obama is easing-and-calming us into gigantic government programs we cannot run or afford.
Lemme 'splain it to you, Mr. Powell: Those of us who were against Obama before the election saw this coming. This is why we did not vote for him.
And maybe Obama can schmooze you, Mr. Powell, because you "keep in touch," but he is not talking to me, or millions of the rest of us. Not listening to us, and not charming the pants off us whenever we pick up the phone.
Maybe Powell was just too close to Obama to see the big picture.
Happy Independence Day
Last night I took Sons #1 and 3 to the River Concert Series. The music was great (50s stuff, Souza marches, the 1812 overture) but it was so crowded that the only place we could fit our 2 chairs was IN a garden bed, about 15 feet from the porta-potties.
We stayed for 2 hours, during which we watched people wait in line for the bathroom. All we could see was the bathroom line.
Son #1 noted that that actually provided a good view, on occasion. For HIM, I say. Not for me.
Then, this morning some friends in the neighborhood organized a parade. How cool is that? It was surprisingly well-attended and ended at the pool, with open swim & free hot dogs.
We stayed for 2 hours, during which we watched people wait in line for the bathroom. All we could see was the bathroom line.
Son #1 noted that that actually provided a good view, on occasion. For HIM, I say. Not for me.
Then, this morning some friends in the neighborhood organized a parade. How cool is that? It was surprisingly well-attended and ended at the pool, with open swim & free hot dogs.
Thursday, July 02, 2009
To be fair, I thought he was already dead
...so I don't feel ALL that bad that I did not realize Karl Malden was the next to go.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Wanna join our Dead Pool?
David Carradine, Farrah, Ed McMahon, Michael Jackson, Billy Mays.
OK, let me make a quick confession: unlike everyone in America, I really do not care.
I had no brothers, growing up, so Farrah Faucett's poster was not an important feature. Loved Charlie's Angels, I did, but...that's it.
I did not watch the Tonight Show or Kung Fu. Given the choice between TV and sleep, I almost always pick sleep.
And although I enjoyed the Jackson 5 and Off the Wall and Thriller, once the whole "child molester" stuff came out, I lost interest.
Billy Mays annoyed the living bejebers out of me, but I do buy OxyClean.
Today, the Sons spent a good bit of time Yelling at Each Other as an homage to Mr. Mays.
And then we got to thinking: Who is next?
Hubby picked: Billy Joel
Son #1: David Letterman
Son #2: Samuel L. Jackson
Son #3 George Foreman
Son #4 Billy Joe Armstrong
Me: Walter Cronkite
Clearly, some members of the family take this much less seriously than others. Samuel L. Jackson? Really?
So, what famous individual do you think is next to go?
Oh, and as for Shoe of the Day: I realized upon examination of my closet that the rest of my shoes are either winter-specific or appropriate only for the dance floor. So, y'all will just have to do without images of my fabulous feet.
OK, let me make a quick confession: unlike everyone in America, I really do not care.
I had no brothers, growing up, so Farrah Faucett's poster was not an important feature. Loved Charlie's Angels, I did, but...that's it.
I did not watch the Tonight Show or Kung Fu. Given the choice between TV and sleep, I almost always pick sleep.
And although I enjoyed the Jackson 5 and Off the Wall and Thriller, once the whole "child molester" stuff came out, I lost interest.
Billy Mays annoyed the living bejebers out of me, but I do buy OxyClean.
Today, the Sons spent a good bit of time Yelling at Each Other as an homage to Mr. Mays.
And then we got to thinking: Who is next?
Hubby picked: Billy Joel
Son #1: David Letterman
Son #2: Samuel L. Jackson
Son #3 George Foreman
Son #4 Billy Joe Armstrong
Me: Walter Cronkite
Clearly, some members of the family take this much less seriously than others. Samuel L. Jackson? Really?
So, what famous individual do you think is next to go?
Oh, and as for Shoe of the Day: I realized upon examination of my closet that the rest of my shoes are either winter-specific or appropriate only for the dance floor. So, y'all will just have to do without images of my fabulous feet.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Ahhh...sorta orderly
I did what I needed to for work, today, and then spent the rest of the day putting the house back together, with assistance from the Sons, who really should not blow smoke at me when I ask them to hold things together while I'm away.
It is 7pm and things are no worse than any ordinary evening, so I figure I'll reload the dishwasher and head out to a meeting that has intrigued me ever since I saw it in the paper a month or two ago: Free Market Economics Reading Group.
I didn't hear about tonight's meeting until today, and obviously the book everyone read is unavailable at the library (and I was sweeping birds' nests off the garage shelves, and making quiche, in any case) so I am going to the meeting like an ignorant ragamuffin.
But a ragamuffin with Interesting Shoes, anyway. These were just cheapie Wal-Mart clearance shelf shoes, but I have enjoyed them for 3 summers now.
Have you noticed? We Short Chicks enjoy a 4 inch platform, now and then.
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