You're Colgate University!
With a background of wealth and privilege, you have perhaps
a bit more notoriety than you truly deserve. You have benefited richly from
a case of mistaken identity, perhaps on more than one occasion. You yourself
are out there... way out there, but you find your isolation to be comforting
and prefer scenery to people. You frequently watch "60 Minutes" and most
enjoy the humorous segments at the end. You love the number 13.
Take the University Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.
Monday, December 18, 2006
Oh my, more quizzes
Sunday, December 17, 2006
I want to thank Mom and Dad. And God.
Time publishes it's Person of the Year tomorrow, and I won!
Um, so did you. Actually, it's anyone using the World Wide Web. How 'bout that for a cop-out, I mean, a cool thing. Actually, the Time people suggested if they had gone with an individual, it would have been that scumbag from Iran. Good choice, Time. I like me.
You can read one of the articles about it here.
Friday, December 15, 2006
coming up for air
So, sorry for my prolonged absence. I haven't figured out how to bilocate, and it seems that when final exams approach that everybody wants a piece of me. Even with my skillful use of the word, "No," I still find myself in a position of saying "yes."To be fair, my "yesses" tend to mean something, and while they are far and in-between (what is the correct American idiom---can I claim a cultural void here?), they are still time-consuming (in a good way).
Since my last post, I attended a beautiful performance of the Messiah, administered final exams to five classes, graded 103 final exams, 68 research papers, 37 grammar tests, and attended three faculty meetings, two commitee meetings (one on-line!), answered 42 email requests to give extra credit, and fielded uncounted text messages from the offspring, and attended a frightening and eye-opening presentation by a homeland security agent. There was also a cross country banquest, and of course, the college Christmas party. Kudos to them for calling it a Christmas party and having Christmas trees, and a creche. A creche! With the baby Jesus. Intriguing. It was at a baptist church with a banquet facility (beautiful). It had the obligatory dried chicken, but everything else was exquisite.
And now, I am sitting in my office blogging, because there is nothing else to do around here. We "Meetinged" through lunch, so two rum balls, a piece of fudge, and a big candycane are all I have in my system.
I am starved.
The good news is that I'm off until next year! Sounds nice.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Today's the 12th!
Time to finish the year with the last 12 of 12 of 2006. I am woefully behind already, since John has my camera, so in the meantime, here's a "rendition" of my route to work, taken from an earlier 12 of 12.
Don't know what I'm talking about? Check out Chad Darnell's site, he of the brilliant idea to document our human experience across timezones, language, and culture.
Do it--it's not too late, and you'll have fun. Unless you are on blogger, then it's going to be hit or miss with the pictures (oh, I'm just bitter about another blogger-related incident--how could I really complain about a freee service?).
Don't know what I'm talking about? Check out Chad Darnell's site, he of the brilliant idea to document our human experience across timezones, language, and culture.
Do it--it's not too late, and you'll have fun. Unless you are on blogger, then it's going to be hit or miss with the pictures (oh, I'm just bitter about another blogger-related incident--how could I really complain about a freee service?).
Saturday, December 09, 2006
600 Stories
But I can only share mine.
I joined a group of youth from our parish to feed the hungry and homeless at a soup kitchen.
A soup kitchen! It all sounded so bizarrely Cannery Row, or something.
We arrived sometime after 7 am at a beautiful church in downtown Atlanta, The Shrine of the Immaculate Conception. The church basement was already a busy beehive of activity, with people cooking, and setting up the makeshift parish hall (not what the new churches have--this is really a basement, painted in a gaudy green, but incredibly functional). Old pews line one of the walls, and well-used and battle-weary tables were set out in what later proved to be efficient and manageable dining sections.
The guy directing all that human traffic, Ted, is a delightful retired Government employee--let's call him an engineer because if he isn't I'm pretty surprised--this guy seemed to be disorganized and thinking as he was moving, but to my amazement, the day went off without a hitch. He is a phenomenal people-person, a cartoon, a stereotype, a gigantic heart in a regular man, and very very funny.
He spoke great truths in little bursts, and was in a perpetual state of catechesis, the kind my dear friend calls backdoor catechesis. We went there feeling magnanimous about our time and sacrifice to do something for the poor. He helped us understand that the poor were gracing us with the opportunity to serve them and learn something. That lesson was not lost on me at all.
He began by letting us know that we would see things that would surprise us, or confuse us...perhaps make us uncomfortable. He warned that there might be instances of rudeness and hostility. He told us to forgive and always be respectful--to address these folks as "Sir" and "Ma'am." In short, to give these people a meal, and more importantly, human dignity. I never saw so many kids smile and genuinely serve. It was beautiful.
After the set up period, we were dismissed to attend Mass in the beautiful historic church. Father Henry delivered a similar message to us, as my new friend Ted. He spoke at length about how the poor are harrassed, not in the ways that we are harrassed, but by things we don't experience. The cold. Hunger. Fear. They seemed to be preparing us for something that we couldn't yet comprehend.
They estimated that about 600 people were served today. The vast majority, and I do mean the vast majority, 99+% were happy to be served, happy to be there, and if not happy, certainly grateful for the warmth of the hall, and the warmth of the food. They had good table manners (why would one think that being poor equals being a rude pig? I've seen greater slobs at fine restaurants), and cordial behavior. They asked for what they needed without shame (and some--burning with shame), and we were happy to provide it. Truly, in over 200 people served in my section, we only had one person that seemed out of place with his behavior. I suspect that he was slick, not poor, yet we served him with the same respect.
A number of things stand out in my day, as snapshots, little mental polaroids because I can't yet process the whole experience.
* a man, dressed in his finest clothes, terribly outdated and in stark contrast to others, but he was clean and pressed and behaving as if he was attending the finest meal in the finest company. For him, it certainly was.
* a toothless, disheveled man in dirty clothes, shivering, shivering, and asking for anything hot. He drank his coffee and ate his soup, and stayed at his seat for a long time. No one asked him to move.
* a prostitute. She had to be a prostitute. And she sat with the group, and she was served with a smile.
* a mother and her two children, Anna and Daniel's ages. I wept at that one. Enough said there.
* a young couple with a lot of bags, clearly out of place, and yet, a part of the group.
* a woman wearing all kinds of mismatched clothes for warmth ate two bowls of soup and the sandwich that was also provided, and asked me, very humbly, if she might have another one to take with her. I came back with three, and she was so grateful that I had to excuse myself for the second time to compose myself. Later, as she was leaving, we sent over a another couple of handfuls. She was there with a man who was taking great pains to help her carry her possessions in a broken canvas bag.
Ninety minutes later, after everyone was fed and the hall was cleaned up, I walked out to the curb to wait for the parking lot to clear (we were blocked in). One of the other youth groups was gathering in the area where I stood, and so I started to make my way through them to get back to my group. One of the teens in the group came up to me and asked, "Are you in my group?"
I laughed and said no. And then he did something totally amazing. He said, "Well, I'll give you a hug anyway! It's a great day, isn't it?"
It certainly was.
I joined a group of youth from our parish to feed the hungry and homeless at a soup kitchen.
A soup kitchen! It all sounded so bizarrely Cannery Row, or something.
We arrived sometime after 7 am at a beautiful church in downtown Atlanta, The Shrine of the Immaculate Conception. The church basement was already a busy beehive of activity, with people cooking, and setting up the makeshift parish hall (not what the new churches have--this is really a basement, painted in a gaudy green, but incredibly functional). Old pews line one of the walls, and well-used and battle-weary tables were set out in what later proved to be efficient and manageable dining sections.
The guy directing all that human traffic, Ted, is a delightful retired Government employee--let's call him an engineer because if he isn't I'm pretty surprised--this guy seemed to be disorganized and thinking as he was moving, but to my amazement, the day went off without a hitch. He is a phenomenal people-person, a cartoon, a stereotype, a gigantic heart in a regular man, and very very funny.
He spoke great truths in little bursts, and was in a perpetual state of catechesis, the kind my dear friend calls backdoor catechesis. We went there feeling magnanimous about our time and sacrifice to do something for the poor. He helped us understand that the poor were gracing us with the opportunity to serve them and learn something. That lesson was not lost on me at all.
He began by letting us know that we would see things that would surprise us, or confuse us...perhaps make us uncomfortable. He warned that there might be instances of rudeness and hostility. He told us to forgive and always be respectful--to address these folks as "Sir" and "Ma'am." In short, to give these people a meal, and more importantly, human dignity. I never saw so many kids smile and genuinely serve. It was beautiful.
After the set up period, we were dismissed to attend Mass in the beautiful historic church. Father Henry delivered a similar message to us, as my new friend Ted. He spoke at length about how the poor are harrassed, not in the ways that we are harrassed, but by things we don't experience. The cold. Hunger. Fear. They seemed to be preparing us for something that we couldn't yet comprehend.
They estimated that about 600 people were served today. The vast majority, and I do mean the vast majority, 99+% were happy to be served, happy to be there, and if not happy, certainly grateful for the warmth of the hall, and the warmth of the food. They had good table manners (why would one think that being poor equals being a rude pig? I've seen greater slobs at fine restaurants), and cordial behavior. They asked for what they needed without shame (and some--burning with shame), and we were happy to provide it. Truly, in over 200 people served in my section, we only had one person that seemed out of place with his behavior. I suspect that he was slick, not poor, yet we served him with the same respect.
A number of things stand out in my day, as snapshots, little mental polaroids because I can't yet process the whole experience.
* a man, dressed in his finest clothes, terribly outdated and in stark contrast to others, but he was clean and pressed and behaving as if he was attending the finest meal in the finest company. For him, it certainly was.
* a toothless, disheveled man in dirty clothes, shivering, shivering, and asking for anything hot. He drank his coffee and ate his soup, and stayed at his seat for a long time. No one asked him to move.
* a prostitute. She had to be a prostitute. And she sat with the group, and she was served with a smile.
* a mother and her two children, Anna and Daniel's ages. I wept at that one. Enough said there.
* a young couple with a lot of bags, clearly out of place, and yet, a part of the group.
* a woman wearing all kinds of mismatched clothes for warmth ate two bowls of soup and the sandwich that was also provided, and asked me, very humbly, if she might have another one to take with her. I came back with three, and she was so grateful that I had to excuse myself for the second time to compose myself. Later, as she was leaving, we sent over a another couple of handfuls. She was there with a man who was taking great pains to help her carry her possessions in a broken canvas bag.
Ninety minutes later, after everyone was fed and the hall was cleaned up, I walked out to the curb to wait for the parking lot to clear (we were blocked in). One of the other youth groups was gathering in the area where I stood, and so I started to make my way through them to get back to my group. One of the teens in the group came up to me and asked, "Are you in my group?"
I laughed and said no. And then he did something totally amazing. He said, "Well, I'll give you a hug anyway! It's a great day, isn't it?"
It certainly was.
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Why I'm Fat (and don't really care)
I'm feeling a little bit under the weather, which of course is code for I feel really poopy and want to go home and crawl under the covers but I have a responsibility to my family to earn a paycheck so I'm going to be brave and cough and sneeze all over my co-workers and students.
Well, that was succinct. Anyway, my poopy state requires that I sniff and snort, too. It seems that the best thing for me to do is drink lots of hot tea, which has been helpful in soothing my sore throat and helping some with the congestion.
That was a very good plan until the afternoon, when I realized that I had no more tea bags. It's not like we live in some crazy communist state and I can't travel 1.3 miles to a grocery store to get more. It's just that I'm achey and uncomfortable, and it's 24 degrees outside, so I decided to make do with what was in the office.
What, indeed, was in the office? A little can of General Foods International Coffees Suisse Mocha low calorie coffee drink mix (sugar free-fat free-naturally decaffeinated). So I made a cup.
What in blue blazes was I thinking? It tasted like shit. Ow, sorry for the little bomb, but...YUCK!
That's why I'm fat. I would have much preferred Starbuck's Supergigantic REAL Mocha made with whole milk, real espresso, and real cream. Duh. I still have time to rectify that error--I just have to find my parka and gloves.
Well, that was succinct. Anyway, my poopy state requires that I sniff and snort, too. It seems that the best thing for me to do is drink lots of hot tea, which has been helpful in soothing my sore throat and helping some with the congestion.
That was a very good plan until the afternoon, when I realized that I had no more tea bags. It's not like we live in some crazy communist state and I can't travel 1.3 miles to a grocery store to get more. It's just that I'm achey and uncomfortable, and it's 24 degrees outside, so I decided to make do with what was in the office.
What, indeed, was in the office? A little can of General Foods International Coffees Suisse Mocha low calorie coffee drink mix (sugar free-fat free-naturally decaffeinated). So I made a cup.
What in blue blazes was I thinking? It tasted like shit. Ow, sorry for the little bomb, but...YUCK!That's why I'm fat. I would have much preferred Starbuck's Supergigantic REAL Mocha made with whole milk, real espresso, and real cream. Duh. I still have time to rectify that error--I just have to find my parka and gloves.
A little waste of time for you today
I ran into this quiz which amused me, because, well, friendship seems to have come in at the bottom. Man, I'm a lousy friend. Ha. I guess I'm not very peaceful, either. Whatever.
| Which Positive Quality Are You? Your Result: Faith You are Faith. Faith is the belief in better things, in spite of the cynicism and doubt that swirls around us. Faith gives us strength; it inpsires us to move forward and follow our hearts. "Faith tells us what the senses do not." | |
| Charity | |
| Love | |
| Courage | |
| Friendship | |
| Peace | |
| Which Positive Quality Are You? | |
Karen Marie's blog had some other quizzes, too. You may want to try out the high school one, for you brainiacs. I scored a 91; that's cuz I went to Catholic school for 9 years, and finished in public school. I'm sure it was the darn area of a triangle question that nailed me. I teach English--I don't need too many triangles in my life.
Ok, now get back to work.
Monday, December 04, 2006
My Computer Blew Up!!!!
OK, it was more like a less dramatic implosion. I got home on Friday afternoon, and it was dead. Deader than dead. It had no juice. My knight in shining armor went and bought a new power supply on Saturday afternoon, but it didn't work. Dead. Where's the coroner to sign the death certificate?
My hero will attempt one last cannibalistic trick to rescue the harddrive, but I fear the worst. I've lost all the pictures since the last back up disk, but you know what? I'm not even upset about it. Whatever. I save and save and save, but never do anything with all those saved things.
I'm really working on the zen of reducing all my things to fit into my trunk. Of course, I count my trunk as everything behind the driver's seat in my van, but hey, it's a start, right?
Meanwhile, click on over to Rosary Army and read my rant of the day, precisely on materialism and the myth of the perfect Christmas decoration. And while you're there, why doncha make a donation. They're the only people who actually let me write for them regularly.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
my last scatalogical post...for now
I've had an odd week. I know last week I talked about my aunt and farts. It seems I can't escape the weirdness when it hits. I think that like airplanes crashing and celebrity deaths, these things happen in 3's.
Yesterday I had a unique experience at school. Now, understand that I try to keep my posts about work to a minimum--not because I have nothing fascinating to say, or out of some profound need to be respectful, but because I'd like to keep from becoming a statistic--you know--those people that get fired for blogging about their jobs.
Nevertheless, being a teacher doesn't define me, but it is certainly a part of me, so every once in a while I gotta say something. Here's my something:
A poor unfortunate young man totally lost it yesterday and went into a wild and woolly expletive-filled diatribe in one of the study centers. Let's just say, if it wasn't so offensive, he'd be congratulated on a superb and flawless conjugation of a particular anglo-saxon word. The sheer creative force behind the rant was eclipsed by the incredible speed of release. I mean, I suppose I could create a verbal bomb like his, but I don't think I could do it extemporaneously. He really needs to be recruited by one of those debate groups.
Naturally, the reaction was utter apoplexy on the part of everyone present, which soon gave way to fear. I mean, who wasn't expecting a shotgun after that rage? Michael Richards (Kramer) has nothing on this poor kid. Unlike Richards, though, it turns out the kid has tourettes syndrome. How wacky is that? Case closed.
Having recovered from that, I proceeded to move through my day today in a drone-like state. It's the end of the grading period, and tensions are running high, so I try to stay out of the way. Let's just say my exit after the last class is quick, and generally uneventful. Cue today's weirdness: I'm walking through the courtyard behind a very loud chick talking at the air in a very loud voice, which of course means she's a) crazy like a bat outta hell, or b) using a bluetooth.*
I vote for option b) the bluetooth, because it's better for my mental health.
I figure that since she was broadcasting her conversation for everyone in the courtyard, it's ok to talk about it here. She was arguing with her friend for leaving her behind for going to the bathroom. It was an amazing conversation, filled with accusations of abandonment and paranoid conspiracy implications--including demands for knowing who the abandoning friend was with at that very moment at the bus stop.
It ended on an unpleasant note, with a loud lamentation: "How long do you think it take fo' me to do number two?"
I couldn't make this up.
*A rant for another day--I am fascinated by people who use the hands-free devices in an effort to get the offending loose phone full of radioactive waves away from themselves--and stuck right into their ears for maximum exposure to their brains. Darwinism. Just sayin'.
Yesterday I had a unique experience at school. Now, understand that I try to keep my posts about work to a minimum--not because I have nothing fascinating to say, or out of some profound need to be respectful, but because I'd like to keep from becoming a statistic--you know--those people that get fired for blogging about their jobs.
Nevertheless, being a teacher doesn't define me, but it is certainly a part of me, so every once in a while I gotta say something. Here's my something:
A poor unfortunate young man totally lost it yesterday and went into a wild and woolly expletive-filled diatribe in one of the study centers. Let's just say, if it wasn't so offensive, he'd be congratulated on a superb and flawless conjugation of a particular anglo-saxon word. The sheer creative force behind the rant was eclipsed by the incredible speed of release. I mean, I suppose I could create a verbal bomb like his, but I don't think I could do it extemporaneously. He really needs to be recruited by one of those debate groups.
Naturally, the reaction was utter apoplexy on the part of everyone present, which soon gave way to fear. I mean, who wasn't expecting a shotgun after that rage? Michael Richards (Kramer) has nothing on this poor kid. Unlike Richards, though, it turns out the kid has tourettes syndrome. How wacky is that? Case closed.
Having recovered from that, I proceeded to move through my day today in a drone-like state. It's the end of the grading period, and tensions are running high, so I try to stay out of the way. Let's just say my exit after the last class is quick, and generally uneventful. Cue today's weirdness: I'm walking through the courtyard behind a very loud chick talking at the air in a very loud voice, which of course means she's a) crazy like a bat outta hell, or b) using a bluetooth.*
I vote for option b) the bluetooth, because it's better for my mental health.
I figure that since she was broadcasting her conversation for everyone in the courtyard, it's ok to talk about it here. She was arguing with her friend for leaving her behind for going to the bathroom. It was an amazing conversation, filled with accusations of abandonment and paranoid conspiracy implications--including demands for knowing who the abandoning friend was with at that very moment at the bus stop.
It ended on an unpleasant note, with a loud lamentation: "How long do you think it take fo' me to do number two?"
I couldn't make this up.
*A rant for another day--I am fascinated by people who use the hands-free devices in an effort to get the offending loose phone full of radioactive waves away from themselves--and stuck right into their ears for maximum exposure to their brains. Darwinism. Just sayin'.
Happy Birthday, Mami!
The sign Jonathan is holding translates roughly as, "Amazing." Pretty accurate for an amazing woman.I love you, Mom! Have a great day. Tapate el cuello.
besitos,
Bego
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Saying "NO" is so liberating
I started saying "no" a few years ago, but it really takes a lot of practice for it to really come out naturally. I guess that we complicate our lives by taking on more than we can do well. So many times we say "yes" because it's something that we'd like to do, or want to do because someone has asked. More often than not, at least in my case, that new obligation creates a level of stress that was unnecessary, but now because of the commitment, is impinging on quality of life because there really isn't enough time in my schedule to complete the task well, or worse, the completion of that task puts a drain on family obligations that should have taken precedence.
Sounds dramatic? Maybe not, but every meeting, every committee, every activity that I take on becomes a drain on my time, which I don't really have much of since I went back to work full-time last spring. It's just made me a bit more selective in what I do, but the benefits for me have been great. I have a bit better control of the home front, although there are still days where I fall short of my expectations. Nevertheless, I think my mental health is way better, and indeed, less stressful. My blood pressure is doing way better, too, and that's the big bonus there.
So today, I was scheduled to ring the bells for the Salvation Army at a local mall. Believe me, it wasn't something that I sought, but it's one of those things that I have to do as part of my employment obligation--that is, we are expected to complete a certain amount of community service. My roomdog, Mary, as John calls the woman I temporarily share an office with, gave me an out today. Someone else was going to the ringing of the bells, so I didn't have to go. Woo-hoo!
I was prepared, with my camera in the car, to take many pictures and mock the experience here, but alas, reason and practicality kicked in--I have a lot of grading to do, and I have a class to teach, so I said, No!
Too bad for those of you expecting to see me playing Santa! A part of me is sorry, too, but a greater part of me is very relieved to be sitting in my office, getting ready to grade an ever growing stack of papers.
Nevertheless, I'll ring the bell from here. There are many organizations that need your support at this time of year to set their budgets for next year. Consider making a charitable contribution today. Check out my favorite organization and send them a check!
Monday, November 27, 2006
Missed me?
Me, too. I mean, I miss writing here, of course. Although, those who know me might add that I am not quite myself. Or maybe, it's my true self, which then, would be good, or bad, depending on your perspective. My point, and I do have one, is that I'm feeling a bit fragmented lately.
Mostly, I haven't been able to write a word, not even a thank you card, or directions to the bank. Not writer's block, more like, time block, or really, no time blocked for writing.
The trip to Miami was a trip, dammit, as it didn't quite go as planned. Again, not a bad thing, since the car broke down in my parent's driveway, and not on the turnpike. Everything after that was wonderful, as really there was no where to go but up after that little escapade. I will add the bonus picture, which includes all the old Cuban men from the neighborhood staring at my engine--as if their incredible powers of concentration could fix the problem. It was classic, and I did what any red-blooded daughter would do--I gave my Dad a peck on the cheek, said, "Thank you, Daddy," borrowed his car and had perhaps the best Martini of my life at my mother-in-law's house (She of the Emily Gilmore ilk, no kidding).
To her husband's dismay, they were out of olives, so I had cocktail onions, which are now my favorite. The rest of that visit was a bit Twilight Zonish, but Emily behaved.
The rest of the weekend went swimmingly well, and we had a lovely surprise visit by my brother and his tribe of little gorgeous monkeys, including my godson who is a giant cutie-pie.
So, to quote Dr. Frankenstein, "It's alive!"
Stay tuned for more...whenever.
Mostly, I haven't been able to write a word, not even a thank you card, or directions to the bank. Not writer's block, more like, time block, or really, no time blocked for writing.
The trip to Miami was a trip, dammit, as it didn't quite go as planned. Again, not a bad thing, since the car broke down in my parent's driveway, and not on the turnpike. Everything after that was wonderful, as really there was no where to go but up after that little escapade. I will add the bonus picture, which includes all the old Cuban men from the neighborhood staring at my engine--as if their incredible powers of concentration could fix the problem. It was classic, and I did what any red-blooded daughter would do--I gave my Dad a peck on the cheek, said, "Thank you, Daddy," borrowed his car and had perhaps the best Martini of my life at my mother-in-law's house (She of the Emily Gilmore ilk, no kidding).
To her husband's dismay, they were out of olives, so I had cocktail onions, which are now my favorite. The rest of that visit was a bit Twilight Zonish, but Emily behaved.
The rest of the weekend went swimmingly well, and we had a lovely surprise visit by my brother and his tribe of little gorgeous monkeys, including my godson who is a giant cutie-pie.
So, to quote Dr. Frankenstein, "It's alive!"
Stay tuned for more...whenever.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Everybody has a crazy aunt, no?
Yesterday, John the consumer received his big secret box of cheap dvds that he buys on-line. Some people collect stamps; some people collect coins. My hubby collects movies. Every once in a while, he'll indulge my interests and get something I like. High on my list of movies that I wanted were Bell, Book and Candle, with Jimmy Stewart and Kim Novak, and co-starring a very cute Jack Lemmon, and my all time favorite Christmas movie (I concede that you may think it's an odd choice) Auntie Mame starring Rosalind Russell. I think it's brilliant.
He of the On-Line Purchase disagrees heartily, believing that Mame, starring Lucille Ball, is a better film. Whatever. I like the black and white one best, although I do enjoy the one with Lucille Ball. They both have strengths, after all. I love Robert Preston and Bea Arthur in Mame, but it just happens that I saw Auntie Mame first, and so, definitively, that's the best one. It's my blog, so I said so.
Anyway, that got me thinking about crazy aunts. We all have them, right? I guess I have the potential to be one, too, and let me just go on record that I know I have the weird quirks to qualify. But I digress, this is about the quirky behavior that one of my aunts exhibits, namely, that she says what's on her mind--unedited. Let's just say, she speaks Truths, capital "T."
Once, she stated matter of factly to my brother and me, that she thinks everyone secretly enjoys the smell of their own farts. That's probably the champion of all statements coming from her. I think it gives you an idea. Another time, she announced that if she could, she would strip out her backbone, and clean it with a toothbrush and some WD40. To be honest, I can totally relate with that. It would be great to be able to give myself a little touch up like that.
So, tonight I'll settle in to watch the classic Auntie Mame, hopefully picking up some tips for endearing myself to the nieces and nephews. I'll try and remember to avoid conversations about bodily functions.
I can always leave that up to my brother: Peo.
He of the On-Line Purchase disagrees heartily, believing that Mame, starring Lucille Ball, is a better film. Whatever. I like the black and white one best, although I do enjoy the one with Lucille Ball. They both have strengths, after all. I love Robert Preston and Bea Arthur in Mame, but it just happens that I saw Auntie Mame first, and so, definitively, that's the best one. It's my blog, so I said so.
Anyway, that got me thinking about crazy aunts. We all have them, right? I guess I have the potential to be one, too, and let me just go on record that I know I have the weird quirks to qualify. But I digress, this is about the quirky behavior that one of my aunts exhibits, namely, that she says what's on her mind--unedited. Let's just say, she speaks Truths, capital "T."
Once, she stated matter of factly to my brother and me, that she thinks everyone secretly enjoys the smell of their own farts. That's probably the champion of all statements coming from her. I think it gives you an idea. Another time, she announced that if she could, she would strip out her backbone, and clean it with a toothbrush and some WD40. To be honest, I can totally relate with that. It would be great to be able to give myself a little touch up like that.
So, tonight I'll settle in to watch the classic Auntie Mame, hopefully picking up some tips for endearing myself to the nieces and nephews. I'll try and remember to avoid conversations about bodily functions.
I can always leave that up to my brother: Peo.
Monday, November 20, 2006
It's a cold Monday
I put the blog up at Rosary Army. I think plenty of people will have a nice laugh at my expense for not being able to see anymore.
Yes. It happened; I need bifocals. If you saw my outrage a couple of weeks ago about a lady begging for mine, then you'll know that this, above all else that my body has decided to betray me with, is the thing that makes me crazy.
Anyway, enjoy it. And if you like my Monday columns, or feel sorry for me for posting without getting any attention, why don't you jump on over to Rosary Army and give a donation to keep the apostolate alive?
You know you want to do it. It will make you feel sooooo good.
And we could sure use the money to keep making, praying, and giving away rosaries.
Yes. It happened; I need bifocals. If you saw my outrage a couple of weeks ago about a lady begging for mine, then you'll know that this, above all else that my body has decided to betray me with, is the thing that makes me crazy.
Anyway, enjoy it. And if you like my Monday columns, or feel sorry for me for posting without getting any attention, why don't you jump on over to Rosary Army and give a donation to keep the apostolate alive?
You know you want to do it. It will make you feel sooooo good.
And we could sure use the money to keep making, praying, and giving away rosaries.
Saturday, November 18, 2006
It's 6 am on a saturday
Anybody get the allusion to Billy Joel? No? Oh, well, it's too early for me to be clever.
Why am I up at this hour? Math Team competition in Athens.
Who told me to have a geeky kid.
Amendment: Did I say Athens? Maybe I wasn't specific enough: The University of Georgia. I drop him off at the high school where the team is gathering, and I see that he's wearing a Georgia Tech cap. Yeah.
Why am I up at this hour? Math Team competition in Athens.
Who told me to have a geeky kid.
Amendment: Did I say Athens? Maybe I wasn't specific enough: The University of Georgia. I drop him off at the high school where the team is gathering, and I see that he's wearing a Georgia Tech cap. Yeah.
Friday, November 17, 2006
NaNoWriMo update--a psychotic day of writing
So, believe it: 4, 972 words.
My total is merely 14, 172 and it should be 25,000 but I've also totally slacked off this past week. I got into a good zone this morning, went to lunch at Chik-fil-A and was feeling sooooo pleased with myself that I came back with a strawberry milkshake and kept writing for another couple of hours.
Let's hope I can keep up with this momentum. At this rate I just might be able to catch up.
And for the record, I'm still feeling a bit weird about the story, but I'll worry about that later when I get into the revision. For now, still just vomiting words onto the page, um, monitor.
It's Friday--I get coffee!!!
Pathetic, given the name of the blog, right? Well, that's how it goes. I'll stop at Mickey D's on the way into the office, and I fully intend to work on my novel until lunchtime. It's so sad to see those levels at NaNoWriMo not move anywhere, so I'll have to either catch up, or pack it in.
I better not pack it in. Thus a caffeine infusion this morning.
Perhaps I'll check in later with a grand total for the day. Adios!
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
happy belated birthday, Greg
I drank a Sierra Nevada, and it's an OK beer, um, ale, of the pale variety.
I prefer cellar beer, which is a tasty German beer that most gasthauses sell on tap as the local brew, as in, the house brew. It has a warm caramel color, and is not bitter like a pilsner. Actually, I'm surprised that I didn't enjoy the Sierra Nevada more, because I do tend to like ales. I used to drink Samuel Adams Boston Ale, and here's a pretty cool link to their site, but you might have to register your age before entering. It occurs to me that maybe the cellar beer is an ale, and I'm just using the German name for it.
John is partial to hefeweizen, which is yeasty, and I call it liquid bread. Very tasty, but terribly filling. And it has a high alcohol content, so one half liter is more than enough for a buzz to end all buzzes.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
