whatever happened to Paul Hogan?

We found Crocodile Dundee at Helen's Oktoberfest in the Georgia mountains.

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Things must be tough in Hollywood; he seems to be the local troubador.

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This morning, very early, I took Christy and Jonathan to the All-State auditions in some little-known backwoods town somewhere between Atlanta and Macon. When we got home, starved and punch drunk, John suggested we get lunch in Helen, two hours away. It was a brilliant idea. You couldn't ask for a more beautiful fall day, so we were game. Only, it's October. Duh, you say? Well, it's more like Homer Simpson's Doh!

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This is what it looks like trying to get into Helen in October. We realized, a bit late, that maybe it wasn't such a brilliant idea afterall.

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We entertained ourselves for an hour, while waiting to travel 2 miles...here's a self-portrait of me in my boredom. We also listened to Univ of Georgia lose. HA!

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And we made friends with a Shriner. They always do good work, in spite of the goofy hat. These are men with great conviction, or a poor sense of fashion.

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Nevertheless, we finally made it into town. That's the Hooch (the Chatahoochee River, of course).

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We naturally headed straight for our favorite restaurant, Alt Heidelberg. Here, the budding thespians are contemplating the joys of Spezi.

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Of course, then there's dessert at one of the bazillion kiosks selling funnel cakes. The consumer bought a ginormous strawberry and cream concoction, which I dutifully gnawed on for a while. Here, a very nice nun (from Cleveland, Ohio!) took our picture. I should have taken her picture, instead. She was smoking Tiparillos. Nice.

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Incidentally, any clues about why a Bavarian/Swiss town is flying the Mexican flag? Maybe you can find the answer at the very first restaurant in town. Casa de Pepe. Jeez. I like Mexican food as much as the next person, but you don't see Warner Brothers cartoons at Disney World, ya know?

Edited by me: Hey, I'm a moron. That ain't no Mexican flag. I just realized that, in order, it's France, Bavaria, U.S. , ITALYand that last one I had to look up--Norway (there's actually a Norse collection in the midst of all the German stuff in Helen--go figure). I'm still offended by the tarbaby in the next picture, though.

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Speaking of the inexplicable, I actually saw this little statue in town. Does one go up to the homeowners and ask: Where have you been for the past 40 years? Just sayin'.

And finally, thanks for reading this far down in the interminable post of 2006. It was a long day, thus a long post. It ended on a hysterical note, too. This picture is not so great, but it's significant in the historical moment that it represents. We were chatting on the way home and John got lost. He got lost! LOL!!! And the best part is, he admitted it!!! With an announcement, no less. "Hey, you're not going to believe that I think I'm lost."

LOL---ROFLMAO!!! I love this guy.

Triskedekaphobia? Not us!: Happy Day, Christy!!!

On a Friday the 13th, 16 years ago, my precious Mouse was born. John was threatening to name the baby Jason if it was a boy. The nurses were scandalized. The doctor told me not to worry. I guess he knew something all along.

Anyway, no such thing as bad luck. I even walked under a ladder today, because they are fixing the roof just outside my building, and I would have had to re-enter and leave by another exit. Like I said, I'm not superstitious. But, I watched some people hesitate, go back in, or think about it before they walked under the ladder.

What a bunch of losers. The only bad luck would be if the thing fell on their heads. They could get a clue from the wacky people here, having a grand time at the annual let's debunk superstition party going on in New York. There's even an obstacle course where they dodge black cats, open umbrellas indoors, and yes, even walk under ladders.

October 12 of 12

So here we go again with another 12 of 12. Check out Chad's brainchild here. You can read the rules, and see the world wide submissions. It's a pretty fun activity--celebrate the mundane, capture the fantastical, or console yourself with the knowledge that you're not the only one leading a tepid existence.

Sheesh, sorry for the mood. Maybe I'll have something remarkably original for next month. For now, the voyeurs can just take a peek at what a mild-mannered college professor does. I'll work on finding a phonebooth for next month.

Sometime around 6:45 a.m. I ate a bowl of raisin bran. OMG, I am possibly more pathetic than I thought!

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These two goobers have a cross country meet today, and it's cold and promising to rain, so they are gussied up and posing as gangstas. Somehow gussied up and gangstas just doesn't work. Whatever happened to smiling for the camera? One day when they are old they are going to ask themselves why they look stupid in every single picture.

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I sat down to check email and such after I returned from dropping off Frick and Frack. It's not even 7:30 yet, and I don't have to be at work until 10, so I burned some CD's.

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Then I did some laundry because all I ever seem to do is laundry. By 9:00 I had finished a couple of loads, so I felt I had done my piece for family today.

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After some tutoring and twiddling of the thumbs, I escaped out the back way and had Chick-Fil-A. If you're not from the South, capital "S", then you don't know what you're missing. I will concede the point that sweet tea is an evil concoction, though. Yuck. I had mine with Coke. This is Atlanta, after all.

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Sadly, I had to return to piles of grading. The only way to learn to write is by writing. It's painful for me over here on the receiving end of those first attempts. I imagine that screening literary manuscripts must be an awful job. On the other hand, those editors can pitch the garbage. I have to make nice and write encouraging comments on even the most feeble attempts.

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Finally, I make it to my car, in the dark, in a not so great area. What happened to the street lights? I was ready for some Kung-Fu Fighting ( or running--I was in flats).

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Traffic was the usual congested mess. It's very dark by 8 p.m. and the time hasn't even changed yet.

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I saw gas for sale for $1.92. I was so amazed that I tried to take a picture. Now that I think about it, why did I take a picture? I should have pulled in and filled up.

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Home Sweet Home. Did anybody save dinner for me? No. They will pay for this when they least expect it. I whipped up some cheese quesadillas, which were filling, but not exactly fulfilling.

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What, you may ask, is the significance of an empty laundry basket? Ah, you are so brilliant! I have, indeed, finished the laundry. Until tomorrow. When somebody throws dirty underwear in there and starts my purgatory all over again. Let me enjoy my picture.

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And finally, I am off to bed. I've been following the advice of FLY Lady and shining my sink before I go to bed. It's made a big difference for me and my slacker ways. Goodnight--I've gotta get some sleep.

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The Bonus Picture: Halloween

Let me express my extreme bitterness at not being able to attend this year's Herald Hunt, formerly the Tropic Hunt, in Miami. BOO-hoo

if you're looking for pictures...

check in again tonight. I've got a handful already, and it's still early.

Remember, today is 12 of 12. Get crackin'.

Only in California...

...could the crazies encourage people to bring worms to work. Yeah, it's a plan to have the worms eat all the garbage such as apple cores and leftover sandwiches and create compost which the employees can then take home for their gardens.

Read about it here.

I especially like the part about worms being finicky eaters. "They also seem to harbor a special dislike for bologna sandwiches, though any kind of dairy or meat product is problematic because of the smell.... Like other slender creatures, worms are also finicky about fatty foods and carbs, and eat bread only in moderation. Coffee grounds, on the other hand, and rotting fruit go over very well."

Can you make this stuff up?

Oh, and the part about bologna sandwiches...why are you still buying that poison? Even the worms won't eat it.

Tomorrow is the 12 of 12

Get your cameras ready, set the alarm, and for Pete's sake, remember to get dressed. Tomorrow is the monthly 12 of 12. A fun little activity for the voyeur in all of us.

Check out Chad Darnell's website, with the rules, and past entries here.

Holy Bat-3D glasses, Batman!

My dad sent me pictures of this guy's sidewalk art last year. Here's the link. It's pretty incredible. These are new pics, although, the angle isn't always giving the best perspective. Nevertheless, totally amazing. Especially the girl in the swimming pool--it looks like her leg is coming out of the water.

Here's a self-portrait of the artist.

Miss Annie Update

Surgery is scheduled for tomorrow. Y'all keep her in your prayers. She'll get a couple of pins, and then a pretty long recovery, so we'll see how she fares.

In other exciting news, we have attacked the front hedge. Yes, the hedge that I so adroitly trimmed the other day. There is scary talk of fountains.

Did I just say that? For your amusement pleasure, John wants to put a fountain in the front of the house. Sure, this after we renew our wedding vows and I used up any chance that we weren't in our right minds 21 years ago.

As if I wasn't already long-suffering with the dog....

I think he does this to torture me so that he can get what he really wants. It's like the teenager who tells his parents he's getting a tattoo, so that when he comes home with his nose pierced, they are relieved. He just bought a truck, what else could he want? Oh no! I think he really wants a fountain!!!

plans are made to be broken: Saturday night at the emergency room

And speaking of broken, I got another one of those I've fallen and I can't get up calls from Miss Annie. This time, though, it was serious. Chris and I were on our way home from the grocery store, so ice cream be damned, we mounted the rescue team.

We found her sprawled on the living room floor, where she had dragged herself to open the door. Chris and I were going to try and spare her the ambulance, but it became clear to us immediately that there was no way we were going to be able to carry Annie and her flopping ankle to my car, so the 911 adventure began.

Let me begin by noting that in today's world of diversity and political correctness and Americans with Disabilites Act stuff (which is a GOOD thing, don't flame me), the ambulance driver clearly had a disability that not only impeded his speed and movement, but made it impossible to carry the gurney out of the house and down the steps. So, our heroes called another set of heroes, the fine men down at the fire station. They parked the big red shiny engine on the street, because, well, there was no way they were getting up the hill. Then, they scaled Pride Rock rather than walk around the driveway. I guess they get their training anywhere they can.

The adventure ended with a picture of Annie in the gurney, because despite the obvious pain and freaky angle of her foot, she was determined to be a hostess for the 7 men that were surrounding her. Oh, and they were ever so genteel by turning around while Chris and I stripped the pantyhose off of Annie. Mental note: next time just cut the buggers off.

The emergency room was a saga unto itself, as a broken ankle doesn't rate up there with the other maladies and emergencies, including Code Blues and the PA announcement that had to have been distressing to the mother-to-be, "If there is an obstetrician anywhere in the building please report to the emergency room." How would you like to hear that between contractions?

Her nurse was a pleasant woman, named aptly enough, Linda, and she had the winning ticket when they finally authorized some morphine for Annie. Let me just say that I'm sorry it didn't come before they took 80 x-rays of the ankle, knee, hip, and bank account. I was asked to step outside, and that's a good thing because I would have punched the woman when I happened to look through the window and see Annie writhing in pain because of some crazy angle the chick placed her in for the x-ray.

Anyway, the doctor was appropriately compassionate and professional and all. She's going to need surgery on Tuesday, once the swelling goes down. I imagine the rest of the evening went well. Once Elaine got there and they discovered I was not the daughter I was unceremoniously asked to step outside, so I went home.

It's just as well. They were going to set the ankle in a splint, without general anesthesia, just a sedative. I might have punched somebody.

it's only 3 and we've done so much!

I guess that's what happens when you get up at 8 am and hit the road for activities. Christy chauffeured us around town in "her" truck, taking us to breakfast (I had a yummy omelette), buying shoes, and of course a pit stop for the consumer to pick up an inflatable skull for Halloween.

Christy and I left the boys to their devices (it seems Jonathan always has some device), and we headed out to Ga Tech for a tailgate party sponsored by her sorority. We had a nice time, met the girls and some of their parents, had an awesome burger and some really tasty cookies and then went back to another tailgate party hosted by the H's and C's.

Here's Vic and her "twin" sister, since they have the same big sister.

I still have the whole day and evening ahead. I need to figure out what to do with a London Broil. I imagine broiling figures in there somewhere. Time to look up what Rachael Ray has to say on the subject....

Correction!

Evidently, today is an exciting day after all.

Happy Birthday

Jules!!!

TGIF!!!

It's Friday morning, and I am indulging myself with a cup of real coffee (picked up on the way to work). The Great Coffee Maker War of 2006 continues and I refuse to buy a coffee maker. Therefore, no coffee at my house, unless you like a little shot of Cuban coffee.

I have a lot of paper work to catch up on, setting up an electronic gradebook, dropping no shows, and planning lessons. It's nice to have a catch up day like this, especially since meetings and such haven't creeped up on me this early in the term.

I've been listening to a lot of music that I wouldn't ordinarily pick. I think I'll put together a list of what I've enjoyed recently, but not today. Although, I must share that I went to a wonderful concert with Vicky, to see the 5 Browns. They are a family of 5 brothers and sisters who are accomplished classical pianists. The concert was exquisite. They played a variety of composers, including Lecuona and his very famous Malaguena. I forgot to tell Vic that he's a Cuban composer (so if you are reading this, Vic, now you know!).

I'm also catching up on some podcasts that I haven't had time for lately. I'm waiting for the next installment in the Secrets of Harry Potter and I'm getting a little impatient, but to be fair, the episodes are worth the wait. If you are a fan of the HP series, this is a great commentary on the mythical and especially, Christian symbolism in the books.

That's it. It's not a terribly exciting day, but it is a good day, and it's always good to get some work done. If you came here for entertainment or quirkiness, I'll indulge you with the link to the winners of this year's igNobel Awards--a spoof on the real Nobel Prizes. If you have smelly feet, then this is a must.

restroom ettiquette

I've heard of the complex positioning of men in public restrooms when there are many open urinals, with the appropriate selection being as far away as possible from the ones already occupied. It makes sense to me.

Women have it easier--at least we have stalls with doors and locks (most of the time). I think the same rules of selection apply to us, though. I mean, I wouldn't go next to someone if I could put a stall between us. Unfortunately, one of the reasons it is so interminable for women to go to public restrooms is because the stalls take up more space than a urinal. Don't worry ladies, I'm not advocating a change in the system.

I'm just choosing my blog to vent about a very creepy experience I had in a public restroom today. When I entered, there was a woman who had just exited a stall. I chose a different one, because, frankly, ew. Intellectually, I know people have been there before me, but I had no interest in following a recent occupant. By the time I reached my stall, the woman had finished washing her hands and had thrown away the paper towel, and seemed to be headed toward the door.

Instead, she stood outside my stall. I swear I could hear her breathing. I couldn't believe it. On the weird-o-meter, this woman was off the charts. I thought, maybe she's fixing her hair and there's a mirror in that unlikely spot. Then I thought, hmm, should I ask her if she needs help?

In any event, my bladder clamped up, equally freaked out, so I gave up on my errand and zipped up angrily and left the stall. She was just standing there, no mirror around. I gave her a creepy look, and washed my hands. Evidently that was her cue to leave.

Relieved, I was able to relieve myself. I have to chalk it up as one of the most bizarre experiences in a bathroom, ever.

I don't generally ask for input from my gentle readers, but I really need to ask: Am I crazy? Should I have said something, even if it was an angry go away?

my geeky Star Trek yearnings

So it's no surprise that my Star Trek interest would lead me to read the science news. Scary, I know. Few people know that I was torn between geology and the arts, with literature winning at the last minute. If my life had gone in another direction and I had listened to the very persuasive recruiters, I'd be in Alaska working for a Big Oil company.

Thank God!

No doubt it would have been an interesting adventure, but I have no regrets. I think maybe I would have had many had I stayed the course. Who knows. Maybe I'll write a book about my alternate universe.

Anyway, I'm happy to be sitting in my office listening to Frank Sinatra's duets (he sings with Jimmy Buffet, how cool is that?) and complaining about students that write poorly. I keep interminable office hours, and no one visits. Then of course, at the last minute I'll have a full house--goobers asking for extra credit. Sheesh!

In the meantime, I enjoy the solitude and the music, and get some writing done, or like now, some reading. As I was perusing the news sources this morning, I ran across this article about transporting matter. Very cool.

It isn't exactly Mr. Scott and his transporter, but it's still pretty cool. I mean, instead of art imitating life, it's the other way around.

Incidentally, for you Trekkies and Trekkers, Captain Kirk never, ever said, "Beam me up, Scotty."

Congratulations Jaime

Look who got ordained today! Woohoo, Jaime! Congratulations. I think there's a party going on in Rome as I write.

Felicidades, mi amigo. And now, on to the next ordination!

Don't tug on Superman's cape; Don't spit into the wind.

Don't pull the mask off the Lone Ranger, and don't mess around with Clark.

I've been following a crazy campaign that Clark Howard has been running against Bank of America, and it makes me laugh. In a complicated turn of events, a San Francisco man was arrested for check fraud and detained, then held even though he wasn't the criminal trying to pass the bad check.

The guy was eventually released, but it still took $14,000 of his own money to clear his name. Clark Howard called the bank to offer to split the guy's court costs, and the bank refused, thus pissing off Howard and starting the whole mess. In short, Howard, a syndicated radio personality that offers consumer advice, has advised his listeners to remove their money from Bank of America because a bank unwilling to admit to a mistake and provide good customer service is only interested in the bottom line.

He proposes to attack that bottom line. To date, $26 million dollars have reportedly been removed from Bank of America accounts. I guess those $7,000 saved have really made an impact on the BOA bottom line.

Forgive me while I assume a Liberal posture and laugh while the little guy makes the corporation cringe.

Out of the mouths of fools

Some politicians (some?) just need to keep their mouths shut, like this idiot who advocates sterilizing bad parents.

Hmmmmm.

"We pick up stray animals and spay them," Larry Shirley said in a story published Saturday by The Post and Courier of Charleston. "These mothers need to be spayed if they can't take care of theirs. Once they have a child and it's running the street, to let them continue to have children is totally unacceptable."

Too bad his mom wasn't spayed.

Totally Random Post

I got what Christy had yesterday, so the idea of BBQ tomorrow is enough to make me wretch again. In the meantime, me and my tea discovered that someone googled "driving in pumps" and found this site. That's disturbing.

1. Because why would anybody google that?

and

2. When did I ever have a post about driving in pumps. Although, generally, I do it Monday thru Friday.

Who knew?

It's Banned Books Week!

How did that ever get past me? It's already Thursday and I've lost all week to the celebration of reading everything I'm not supposed to. Yes, I am a bad little girl. Just tell me there's something I can't read and I'll have it read by tomorrow.

Don't worry, I do have scruples. I mean books that get banned in school systems for stupid reasons. I can't say I'm in a hurry to get my hand on anything by Larry Flint. In fact, his dreck I would ban, but not literature! Not stories!

I have read far more books that offend me from an artistic standpoint, i.e., the plot was dumb, the characters inconsistent or implausible, than I have because I have been offended politically, religiously, or culturally.

In fact, the only book I ever quit reading (I'm one of those hopeful fools that reads a book all the way through even when it's awful, in the hopes that it will somehow redeem itself) was The Exorcist. It scared me that much. Probably, some guilt was working me, because I hid it from my parents, and the book seemed to be able to glow in the dark. I'd put it in my night table, and I'd see the gree glow when it got dark. I ended up carrying it to the garbage container in the garage in the middle of the night.

Of course, I also got caught reading M*A*S*H. Sister Dawn found it in my desk because one of my friends who had older brothers and sisters had it, and I knew I couldn't take it home, either. She busted me and made me take it home. I hid it, too. But that one I did read. Not that I understood it, but I did read it.

I guess the nuns were the first level of censorship...we all managed to read page 37 of Jacqueline Suzanne's Once is Not Enough. I don't know if that counts as never having finished a book, since the object was merely page 37, but Sister Eileen found that one, and proceeded to read page 37, too. I think she was so mortified that she just chose to ignore the episode rather than deal with us. Of course, Sister Eileen had the kind of reputation that required no intervention anyway. We were sufficiently terrified that we finished the term without giving her a reason to discipline us once. I wonder if she planted that book in her next class to get the same results.

Anyway, this banned book site is courtesy of the American Library Association, that keeps a running list of the most banned books. I am pleased to report that out of the top 25 books, I've read 22. That includes the Captain Underpants series. I think they are clever.

If you are as quirky as me, here's the link to the American Library Association's Banned Books site, and my personal favorite, the list.

If you're a real maverick, you can vote for your favorite banned book here.

Bumper stickers, quizzes, and dogs

How ironic that I should be once again focusing on dogs. I must be in some other dimension--it's the anti-Bego or something.

A few weeks ago I posted my outrage about a bumper sticker, my child has more chromosomes than yours. This morning, in my driving stupor induced by too many cheesewagons, I came across a new bumper sticker: My child drinks out of the toilet.

I know you all get it. Kudos to you. I did not. At least, not right away. I actually sat there at the red light light and shook my head, huh? To further embarrass myself, there was a little picture of a dog on the bumper sticker. What a loser.

Cue Homer Simpsom: DOH!

Then, I found this quiz in one of those email promotion things that I joined about a million years ago in this spam-catcher email that I have, and I took the quiz:

WHAT KIND OF DOG ARE YOU...AT WORK?

Loser that I am, I mean, dog lover that I am, I took the quiz.

I came out to be a border collie, which amuses me beyond belief. Chloe! Um, isn't that fantastical? LOL.

Anyway, here's the description: You don't give up and that's your key to success. Though people might not always expect it from you since you're so sociable in the office, you've got success on the brain and you won't stop 'til you get there.

I'd love to share the link with you, but the quiz requires registration, so that's kinda rude. Nevertheless, if anybody is that curious about doing it, here ya go.

another day, another dollar

I'm back at work for the new term, so that means wearing pantyhose. After a great respite during the heatwave this summer, it was actually nice to get back into hose. We'll see how long I'll feel that way. The A/C is still on in the building although the oppressive heat outside is gone, so things are rather cool and I welcome the warmth.

The registration lines are huge, but got under control quickly, so hopefully today will go smoothly for the students as well as the staff. We'll see--I'm gonna be here til 7 tonight!

I'm working on some writing between appointments, and forgot to post the link to yesterday's Monday Musing for lazy Rob. I'm waiting for you to call me out on that [wink].



Everything else is going gangbusters. Jonathan and Christy are at UGA today for a choral workshop. I hope they come back with lots of Georgia gear, just to tick off a certain someone. On second thought, it might also tick off a certain someone else!

Teehee! Go Dawgs!!!

Cruising for some entertainment

Ran into this ad at YouTube because I've always been interested in how the media can take things from the past--movies, radio, whatever is archived, and bring it back to use in modern stuff. I loved how it was done in Forest Gump, and now they have captured Audrey Hepburn for a Gap Ad.

Just because I'm interested in it, though, doesn't mean I've made up my mind on it's artistic merit (ok, maybe I have, it's pretty cool) but it's availability as a free source is still up in the air. I think the younger generation feels free to use these resources more so than mine. I guess we are caught up in plagiarism and copyright uptight-ness, whereas they see it as something available and thus open game.

Anyway, the ad is cool, because, well, who doesn't love Audrey Hepburn and her signature black capris? And while I was there, I saw an Apple ad that I love for the message.

Lifeteen Bowling

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Hanging around with a bunch of nice kids isn't a bad way to finish off the weekend. Check out some notable moments--Michael caught the popcorn in his mouth--and I caught it on film. Which of the two is more remarkable? Yeah, I thought so.

My favorite has to be the synchronized bowling by Jonathan H. and Christy. Nice job!

Homecoming and homecoming

The Homecoming Dance was last night--reports are that it went well. The usual suspects gathered at a central location for 37 versions of the same group picture, and then it was time to party....

Meanwhile, I chilled out at LG's, which is a good thing, since there's nowhere else I could yawn and almost fall asleep during a visit and the hosts wouldn't mind. My life is just as demanding, timewise, but at least the complication of too many places at once has been reduced. I hope that by January I will have paid my dues in the college schedule department and I won't have a 40 hour work week scattered across 6 days. Yech. Then maybe I can have a life again and not fall asleep at people's houses.

Finally, picked up Vicky and brought her home for a while. The Deb and Flo Show has retired to the bedroom where they are clearly up to no good. Last night I eavesdropped on a telephone training session that was too comical for words, only to discover the same session going on at my house. New phones for everybody. I'm not interested in the doodads--I just want to have a more normal ring tone than what Christy selected, but I can't even figure out how to check my messages. Oh, and inexplicably, when I call Vicky, I don't get ringing. Instead, I hear Vivaldi's four Seasons. Very weird.

I attacked the hedge

And I lost. Can you believe I'm too short to finish the last little bit on the end of the house where it slopes down? Man, and I was doing so well for the first time trimming the hedge.

I'm not too fond of the vibration in my hands, though.

I'm thinking maybe this is the kind of thing one pays other people to do.

I tried it, mostly succeeded, and can check it off my list of things I've never done. Now I can add it to my list of things I'm not likely to do again.

Just sayin'.

Martiviri----Bizzzzzz!

So here I am at work, sitting in my office a bit bored--I did my filing, created notebooks for all my committees, planned the term--in short, accomplished a week's work in a few hours, and so I was about to reward myself with a little game of solitaire, when the phone rings.

It was Martha! Of Martiviri and Viviii fame!!!

It took me a second to orient myself, because I just got my new phone last night. Christy set it up with a stupid ringtone (stupid! you better fix it, Titi), and then suddenly, here I am talking with Martha for over an hour.

After all the important stuff, the kids, the husbands, the old folks, you know, all the catching up stuff, we got down and dirty and talked about stuff with real substance. We trashed our friends who've had plastic surgery.

There, now that's a typical conversation. Ok, maybe not typical, but typically quirky. This aging thing carries with it new material, you know. No more "Guess who likes So-and-So?" Now it's replaced by the catty "Guess who got a boob job!"

In typical Martha fashion, she pointed out the obvious: what good is it having perky boobies when the rest of you is hanging down to your ankles?"

Ah, such wisdom.

La Cucaracha

Ew. How badly do people want to be able to jump lines at Six Flags?

Hungover, and no booze

Ok, so we went to the Ga Tech game last night, and I'm really dragging this morning. It's a good thing that McDonald's sells scalding coffee, because I bought a large gigumbous nobody-can-drink-this-size cup of coffee, and I've been refilling my human size cup from it, and the coffee is just now drinkable. I'm looking at the little warning on the size of the cup, "warning: contents may be hot." Duh. I'm wondering if there is even a word in English for just how hot those contents really are.

Anyway, had a great time last night. I announced my intention to abandon my post at the busiest point, halftime, to go see my retro-babe in her tie-dyed wifebeaters and painted pants. The show was cute, the drum major hysterical in a gigantic afro, and the wild part, the fans, caught onto the retro theme and dressed in ways that I can't describe.

My dreams came true, and Elvis came to my stand to place his order. Sadly, we were out of fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches so he had to settle for a grossly overpriced Coke and a Jumbo Hotdog. Hate to say that the only jumbo there was the guy's paunch--he was really into the 70's Elvis. He chatted with us, and even serenaded me and another mom, so it made our third quarter. Vicky was lucky enough to be in the area (mooching food) and so got a picture with the celebrity du jour.

Then, Christy disappeared after Vicky smuggled her into the band section. Wannabe!!! She came back telling stories of some Budweiser song that I'll just pretend I didn't hear. Meanwhile, Jonathan and his buddies hawked drinks in the stands, but tips were meager at this game. They realized that there is a correlation between generous tips and level of intoxication. Evidently on a Thursday night, the students and alumni have not had enough time to really get a "nota."

Finally, had a visit with Jamers in search of free drinks [wink], and a disturbing conversation with Cecil about the lycra shorts he's going to have to wear for crew, and we were off, back home only to have to get up early and start all over again.

Georgia Tech Wins: We just went for the band

Fall is here!

The weather is finally showing signs of letting up on the oppressive heat. Last night we slept with the bedroom windows open. That is so much better than the air-conditioning. Although our house is known for normally being a walk-in freezer, the real cold air coming naturally from outside is crisper and fresher. It's way better, especially for sleeping. So I slept very well last night--aaahh.

Meanwhile, Frick and Frack, otherwise known as Jonathan and Christy, decided that this morning was the perfect day to go to school with as little clothes as possible. I'm wearing pants and a pullover sweater; they are in sandals and shorts. Maybe it's like that last call for alcohol in the bars. It could be the last time they can go to school like that before it gets really cold.

On second thought, I think it's because they didn't do their laundry.

So I tried to assassinate the dog

It wasn't even intentional. You see, I gave the dog a baked potato. Who knew that maybe that wasn't a good idea?

Well, he gobbled it up, because, well, that's what he does.

And half an hour later he's throwing up everything that was in his guts. That's when John tells me that dogs can't digest potatoes. Oops.

The victim here is Christy, who gamely went to clean up the mess.

I think I'll wait a long while for dinner. I'm afraid I made stew.

Avast! The world is coming to an end!

First, they're burning the Pope in effigy to prove they are a peaceful people, and now, President Bush has pretty much thrown down the gauntlet and let the world know in no uncertain terms what he thinks about most of the Middle East.

I'm not one for dwelling on end times and feeding the world is ending kinda foolishness, but just in case, here's some entertaining foolishness to take your minds off the real world.

Today is talk like a pirate day. I'm not sure I get it, but here's a goofy snippet from YouTube.

One God, One Mission

So this weekend the kids went on a mission trip of sorts into our community and did some painting and grunt work for homes and organizations that could benefit from many hands making light work. As usual, the kids think it's about helping other people. The big secret is that it's really about them--the skills they learned, the camaraderie they formed, the big realization that maybe there are different faiths and different traditions, but at the end of the day we are all sisters and brothers.

It teaches them, in a very sweaty, tangible way, that Christ's mission for them is to be His hands and feet. If they don't do it, no one else will. They discovered this in the before and after pictures of their projects. Had they not worked on Saturday, numerous families would still be living in the physical conditions they had last Friday. For many of our youth, that was a sobering realization.

The aches and pains of muscles rarely used to lift a rake or a paintbrush will wear off in a couple of days, but maybe the excercising of Christian goodwill will be with them always.

Here's a link to the project homepage--look for the 2006 pictures, and for lazy Rob, here's the link to Monday's Musings on the same topic.

The Academic Regalia Striptease

So yesterday I attended graduation in one of those command performance events (you know, the kind where the Brass behaves like you really want to give up a Sunday afternoon). I know you must wondering: who holds a graduation in September? Well, I teach at a college that still has the quarter system--this is the end of the academic year. It's like we are in Australia! (Ok, maybe not).

Anyway, the ceremony itself was a typical graduation ceremony. The faculty stood around making small talk until we were lined up for the procession. I was waiting for my friend Mary, when a whole group of us was hauled over to the other side of the auditorium. I guess the idea was to process in two lines. Whatever.

We processed in, all professional and stuff, all decked out in our Academic Regalia. We sat in the choir of a local church--The Cathedral of the Holy Spirit--interesting name, interesting church. It was a giant theater, complete with a mezzanine, LOL. Sitting in the choir above the pulpit really gave me the bird's eye view of the proceedings. It was a bit hot too, since the lights were hitting us full force, and the robes and hood were a bit heavy. I also figured out why faculty alway looks so solemn when sitting in a group like that.

Hey, I wonder what a group of faculty is called? Lions move in dens, fish move in schools. What do we move in? I got it: A Boredom of Faculty.

Anyway, back to my observation. We look so solemn because we are sitting on our hoods, and they are choking us. We can't even alleviate the boredom by talking with each other--any move in the direction of the person sitting next to us will result in asphyxiation from the hood, or worse, losing an eye to a mortarboard corner.

I knocked my silly hat off when I leaned over to my colleague to hear her comment, and our corners crashed. Hers was clamped in place by a series of hair pins, but I so naively thought that the circulation constricting elastic would be sufficient to keep the monstrosity in place. There was an advantage to my geeky adherence to protocol though. Because I wore my mortarboard correctly, it worked like a baseball cap visor, and kept the lights out of my eyes (remember we were front and center facing the congregation, um, I mean, graduates).

Anyway, the ceremony progressed as graduations are wont to do. It finished in record time, and then it was time for the recessional. Nice. Let me tell you that if it was awkward getting up into the choir, taking those steps on the way down was a feat. My friend Mary actually stumbled, and her hat went flying. I just took off after the person in front of me, and zipped on out.

This is the best part. If we were moving at a clip to get out of the auditorium, the trip through the lobby was even faster. Ushers had cleared a path for us on our way through, and it became clear to me that the boredom of faculty was moving quickly toward their cars!

Yes! We were done, and there was to be no hanging around shaking hands and maintaining smiles. Once we got out into the sunlight and away from the crowds, the real display started. Nobody slowed down; it was a beautifully choreographed striptease. First the mortarboards came off--I passed more than one dead tassel, crushed by the moving mob. Then the robes were unzipped, resulting, for some, in the difficulty of flying robes and those darn constrictive hoods. Mine landed on the asphalt, luckily black side down. The funny thing is that nobody was slowing down; it looked like some crazy academic relay race. Nevertheless, cars became dressing rooms, as the race to get out of the parking lot ahead of the throngs of graduates and guests continued.

A good time was had by all.

"I'm alive!" name that movie

Just got back from a "mission trip" in the community. Very lovely experience, and I will recount the details and pictures later, but, alas, I must go to Graduation.

Yeah, graduation. Who has graduation in September? Evidently we do.

I'm tired, and terribly sleepy, and still have a long day ahead of me, at 1:15 in the afternnon. When you consider that I got up at 6:30 am yesterday, and haven't slept, I guess I could say yesterday is turning out to be a long day.

Oh, and the fasha took titi homecoming dress shopping. I hear it was successful.

ads that don't add up

SoI have this yahoo account that is increasingly becoming a pain in the neck because of all the advertising. In fact, advertising in general is a pain, isn't it? I especially hate those pop up ads that take over an entire screen, and you're looking all over the place for the stupid little "X" to close the thing, and then it takes off into animated hell, and you're held hostage for the duration of the ad. WOW. I find them almost as annoying as run-on sentences.

Anyway, lately every time I check my yahoo mail, there's an ad for a mortagage company on the page. It shows a roof top, and it has a silhouette of two people dancing an obscene and disgusting gyration thing as they move back and forth across the roof. It's gross. Their movements aren't even so much sexual as unnatural. To make things worse, the female, who is chunky and therefore quite impressive in her gyrations, is also sporting extremely stringy hair, or they are going for a black demographic, in which case she has a really bad weave. It's a lose-lose for us girls. The guy is just as frightening. I mean, it could be Deney Terrio.

In case you are clueless about Deney Terrio, he taught John Travolta to disco dance.