June 12 of 12

7:02 AM
To my absolute horror, I overslept on final exam day. What a loser.



7:08 AM
Which led to this tragedy--no time for coffee.




7:09 AM
The dog could care less (I think I will do a 12 of 12 for him next month--what exactly would a dog do all day?)



9:35 AM
Doing purgatory time on earth. I made it to the exam with some minutes to spare, and now I can't spare a minute to get them graded.

5:40 PM

The pooch, clearly exhausted from a long day of...whatever.

6:00 PM

A devastatingly awful game of yahoo-canasta

6:20 PM

The King comes home and we make coffee. My first cup of the day. I even forgot I had a caffeine headache most of the morning.

6:30 PM

The King holds his audience in the office. See the jester? I can't explain the other one.

7:40 PM

At some point I'll have to make dinner, but it's been a long caffeine-free day, so I thought I'd do the Fabo on the way to another refill.

Inexplicably, I've timed out of my photo uploads. Is it possible 12 of 12 is already so popular that it has overloaded the blogosphere?

8:49 PM

A pathetic dinner of mac 'n cheese, and that cuban concoction of unfermented Guinness beer, Malta. Yummy. I promise we're not poor, it's just that somehow, we forgot about dinner.

9:10 PM

Why does Blogger hate me? I've had to open a new post.

9:25 PM

That's it. I'm throwin' in the towel. I'm turnin' in. I'm gonna watch a movie in bed. (To Catch a Thief, starring Cary Grant and Grace Kelly)

*****

BONUS: 10:00 AM

Instant messaging with Vic when we realized it was 10 and time for the pic (this one courtesy of Vic)

Today is 12 of 12!!!

Ok all you losers not playing along, grab your camera; it's still early. Take 12 pics of your day, and post 'em. We all want to see what a day in your life looks like.

Afraid you have a lame existence? Hesitant to share with the entire universe that you don't do anything interesting? Have an inferiority complex because your cubicle is sad and pathetic and you don't have the presidential suite, like me?

Never fear, my 12 of 12 will be here soon! Observe how pathetic I can be. What's lamer than grading papers? What is duller than teaching grammar? What's more pathetic than not even having a cube space to call my own, that I am shuttled from office to office like a squatter?

Instead of moping, let's celebrate the mundane, and have fun with our day! Share the moments that when added up, serve as proof to our families and friends that we have indeed had a long day.

Unless, you are my dog, in which all the pictures will look the same.

a little shout out to Jaime

Happy Birthday, Felicidades on Jaime's special 33rd birthday. Study, man, we need you.

Yet another politically incorrect observation

Generally, I try to stay away from political commentary here--mostly because I am woefully ignorant of the machinations of Powers That Be, whether in local, state, federal, or international arenas. On the other hand, I would absolutely love to fill pages and pages on social commentary, but I fear that will bore you, as most of you read this for the pictures and tidbits on our personal lives. Nevertheless, today I had another one of those chance encounters that makes me rethink my career choice. I honestly believe that if I had to do it over, I would study anthropology.

What elicited today's rant? After dropping off the boys downtown, I found myself close to the main road that leads to my office. Sure, it was going to take me through neighborhoods that might slow me down (the interstate going out of the city would be empty) but the houses and trees and parks would make the drive at least pretty.

Well, this morning I encountered a sign advertising the Hosea Williams Bail Bonding Service. That part didn't really bother me all that much, I mean, Hosea Williams was a pretty famous guy in the Civil Rights Movement. He was, actually, a very interesting man, who had distinguished himself prior to his involvement with the civil rights movement by serving under Patton in an all black unit, getting a purple heart, going back to school to not only finish high school but get both a bachelor's and master's degree in chemistry. He was a pretty smart guy. He also started an initiative to feed the homeless. In short, a man who accomplished quite a bit and earned himself the distinction of being an icon in the African-American community.

The Bail Bonds connection actually makes sense in this context. During the volatile days of demonstrations and arrests, black leaders encouraged protestors to get arrested as a tactic to over tax the judicial system, from law enforcement to the courts. It was a pretty effective strategy, and organizations such as the NAACP defrayed the costs of those arrests by financing the bail bonds to get the protestors out of jail.

So far, all you have is a history lesson. That's because I haven't described the artwork on the advertisement. Another missed photo opportunity that I want to beat myself over, so my description will have to suffice. Imagine, if you will, a caricature of Hosea Williams riding atop a pimp car. Yep, that's what I said--a great big shiny cadillac in bright bright red. Tacky, huh?

But wait, there's more.

He is driving away from a jailhouse that has had its bars ripped out by the cadillac. Yes, in the cartoon you can see the rope tied to the bars being hauled by the car. Man. That really offends me.

That is the equivalent, in my opinion, of a Cuban in Miami advertising for his pool supply store by posting a cartoon of a starving, sunburned, dehydrated balsero, bobbing in the Gulf Stream on one of the store's fancy vanity rafts. Tell me somebody wouldn't burn down the guy's business.

The [Real] World of Work

Here I am, doing what I do best--avoiding grading. I've actually gone into work early because the house was so quiet and lonely. Jonathan is off doing forensics research at Tech (every day a report on what he's done with blood splatters and DNA), Christy is at a leadership conference out of town, and Vic is employed. HA. Welcome to our collective nightmare, dear.

She's come to the conclusion that she doesn't want to be anybody's "office bitch." Yes, that R-rated language came out of that precious mouth (let's not delude ourselves about it being infrequent). In sharing with me her disgust at having to take orders, and in this case, produce a web design that may or may not be what she would personally like, she stopped everything to demonstrate how our friend and her former boss, Greg, gets home from work.

She stepped out into the garage, and then re-entered, quite dramatically, and half-trudged/half-stomped to me (pretending to be her) and she (pretending to be Greg) thundered, "Vicky, whatever you do, work at something you love!!!"

It's like that credit card commercial:

hourly wage: $9.00
hours worked: 30
state and federal taxes withheld: obscene
reality: priceless

Welcome to the world of work. Study hard, sweetie, so you can be the boss.

Rednecks trump George Clooney every time

So tonight, George Clooney, feeling generous (remember that bank account) and desiring to give me a break, takes me and the Boy to dinner at our favorite Mexican restaurant. It's like dinner theater there. We sit outside on the sidewalk and watch the moving exhibits.

I don't ever recall an evening when there wasn't some freakshow for entertainment. Mostly, it's the drunks, but every once in a while we'll get a real winner. Tonight we hit the jackpot, not once but twice. Well, maybe it was once, but with a bonus.

There was a group of young men who joined the festivities outside. I couldn't see them, but I sure heard them. Sooooouuuuuthern as southern can get. I mean, fried green tomatoes southern. They were drinking and smoking and trash-talking, but generally not being bothersome. Suddenly, an old Crown Victoria pulls across the parking lot and double parks right in front of them (and us) with a gigantic fat lady dressed inapproapriately too revealing (please, just don't ask how I know she was in a too-tight sundress) in the driver's seat, and an equally huge and very intoxicated man hanging out of the back seat window yells at the guys. "Hey Playahs, I'm riding in the backseat of the Po-Po."

Wow. I have no response to that. I was trying to figure out if he was in the backseat of a real police cruiser, or if they were just making fun of the Crown Vic. I think, maybe, he was serious that they bought it from the Police auction. Um. Wow, and aren't there open container laws? He was drinking the very cliche Colt 45 out of a can. I couldn't make this up.

They said their goodbyes, which included a brief exchange on their real experiences riding in the back of the Po-Po's cars, police cars for those of you lacking the urban vocabulary.

Which of course brings me to the next point. Those good ole boys were dressed in the finest Fubu fashions. They looked ridiculous and somehow wrong. I mean, I think overalls and camouflage fit better with their accents and lifestyle choices. Face it, the cool urban blacks I know drink Hennesey, not Colt 45. It's about the image, man.

Well, they were just a gigantic ball of southern cliche when their dates show up. I'm embarrassed to say, the "ladies" completed the picture. I really resent, being on the plus side myself, how some women dress to accentuate what they really don't need to be showing. We were assaulted by the white trash ensemble that would have been trashy on Britney Spears. Yech.

Proof that you can take the boy out of the country, but you can't take the redneck out of the boy.

What do these three men have in common?

My honey, here on the right, suffers from the insane delusion that he looks like George Clooney. We let him believe it. After all, he WAS really really hot when I met him almost 30 years ago. Yeah, he was a cutie. I wouldn't trade him in though, because his bank account is a whole lot better at 50.

On the other hand, this fine gentleman on my left is George C. Scott. Another George, verily, but not as attractive, at least, not now. (actually, isn't he dead?). Anyway, today at lunch at that venerable eatery, Casa de Waffles, the waitress approaches Clooney Wannabe, and says, "You remind me of somebody famous. Yeah. George...." and she draws a blank. Vic, naturally, goes into an apoplectic coma, mortified at the idea that this woman might possibly say George Clooney, but my child is rescued--spared the emergency resuscitation machines when the waitress says, "George C. Scott."

Huh?

"Patton, " The Father deadpans. What? Whatever. There's no accounting for what people think.
I'll just cleanse my visual palate with the real eye-candy.

At last, The Tribute (Part I)

The weeks leading up to the graduation were somewhat insane, and very busy. Evidently I have taxed the blogger server with too many pictures, so today you can see just a sampling of what went on around here, and how very little I've managed to recover from it all.

The band banquet was lovely, albeit wrought with technical difficulties in showing the seniors in the DVD. Not a loss, as we bought it in January and can see it in the comfort of the big cozy bed/home theater whenever we want. Vicky snagged a pretty little award, and Vichka nabbed the big one. Am I the only one to see the delightful irony in this? Incidentally, she's the very short one in the ROTC pic below. She's really very tiny--everybody else was ducking for the picture.The pass in review (passing review? passion review?) was equally lovely. A bit of a tearjerker for the retiring Top, but very nicely executed. Note the graduation cords for graduating seniors, and the clearly missing ones for Vic. See the later graduation pictures for a way better and funny solution to this childish debacle instigated by the Captain.

My lovely child has grown to be a striking woman. In one shot, looking all sophisticated and mature.

Which moved to giddy and silly after a while. Here Dion finally makes it after getting a bit lost.

Vicky trying on the burka look. Not a fan of it, I think.

Graduation morning was beautiful. It stayed cooler longer than I expected, but it was still a scorcher. Check out the special appearance by the Lady Chablis. It's quite a drive from Savannah.
The happy crowd awaiting the arrival of the grads. I think the club selling concessions made a killing with the cold drinks.

There she is, waiting for her favorite Chucko to announce her name to her admiring throngs. Still looking giddy, doncha think?

Where's Waldo? Guess who smuggled a digital camera in the Mortarboard? HA! Brilliant!

Food. Food. And turtle pie. Yummy. (I think there's a piece left).

And finally, the very last senior activity at church, with a special blessing for the grads, a roast, and some more goofing off before they are off to young adult programs. I was glad to hear of their interest in continuing their involvement with ministries while at college.

reading suggestion

There's an interesting article over at Whispers today that you guys might be interested in reading. It's about the church (what else!), with a link to the actual article. An interesting commentary on the perception of the church as a political structure, but Rocco points out the truth, that the Church is the people. Check it out.

As an aside, I'll share that I was accosted by the family last night and brought to task about my own writing, um, incomplete writing. There will be no excuses forthcoming, although I won't guarantee there will be any finished products, either. Alas, the angst of a writer.

birthday weekend recap

So, just some pictures from the weekend jaunt over to the covered bridge. Dinner at the Big Haired Lady delicious, and a little walking to get the digestion going (HA!) finished up a nice family outing. Note the traditional spitting off of the bridge. That would be the headless shot.

Happy B-day, Boy!

Happy birthday, son. This is an example of how at 14, boys still make forts.


Gotta love this kid.
I'll reserve comment on the sign.

What? No update?

Am I the only one that ever keeps up with this? Hmmm. How ironic that I have nothing to say. It was just a typical (wait--do we have typical days? just askin') day doing typical things. Christy finally got her schedule figured out; Jonathan got back from Ga Tech and has been banned from future field trips. HA! Ok, anyway, the usual stuff around here.

Except, that I do have some juicy stuff to share. A fight at school. Um, a fight between girls. A fight, between girls, IN COLLEGE.


Did they not get the memo about adult behavior? Oh, wait, one of their mothers got into the fight. Yeah. She jumped the Dean. HA. Evidently she didn't get the memo either.

Anyway, a good time was had by all. There were extensions loosed, and somehow a missing shoe. I think one of the girls used it to beat on the other girl. BWAHAHAHA. Lamentably, there are no sound effects here. I'd have to enjoy myself by creating BLEEPS and other feral sounds.

The only thing missing was the soundtrack, "I FOOOOUUUUUND YOU...."

Sum-Sum-Summertime

Summer vacation is here. I know this because there is no traffic in the morning. I zipped to work in almost half the time because there were no school zones, and definitely no Cheese Wagons--the big yellow school buses.

The kids are lining up their summer activities, with work and conferences, and of course sleeping in and not doing the chores I list for them. That's about par for the course.

Things are winding down at the college, too. The term ends in less than 10 days, so I am seeing the effects of poor study habits and lack of preparation. Students who were barely making it are dropping like flies.

I don't get it. Why stick out 90% of the course, only to lose steam at the end and bail. I could never take an "F" so casually. Of course, they make things easy for me this way, but I'd really like to see them have some success.

Maybe it's the weather. The oppressive heat has arrived and that just makes me lethargic. At some point I've got to tackle the mess in the back yard. At some point....

In the meantime, I'll embrace my favorite Southern icon, Scarlett O'Hara, for "tomorrow is another day."

Back to craving ice cream...

No no no. Perhaps I should have said "hankering for" or even "desiring." Never never never craving. It suggests the unsuggestable.

Anyway, here I am sitting in my breakroom/office/cubicle/I don't know what to call it anymore space. It has a door with my schedule posted on it, a lock for said door, a filing cabinet that is mine, a phone, a 'puter, a printer, a shelf, a shredder (I could do without that) and a coffee pot (I could never do without that). Home sweet home indefinitely, or so they tell me. Evidently I haven't annoyed the Powers that Be sufficiently. I dropped the not-so-subtle hint that if they got rid of the shredder and the security staff's phone recharger that I would be happy to move in permanently and they could find another place to drop their junk.

No dice. I'm thinking of decorating a little bit. Squatter's Rights and all that. Possession is nine-tenths of the law, isn't it? Yeah, tomorrow I'm bringing in some pictures and a plant. That'll show 'em.

Meanwhile, back to the pressing issue at hand. There's something about this office that makes me want ice cream. Very weird. By the time I get home I'm not interested anymore.

WAIT!!! There's still some Turtle Pie left in the freezer. The locusts didn't get all of it this weekend. Mmmmmmm.

Redundancy

So, from not posting to multiple posts in a day. What a treat for you loyal readers!

I remember when the kids were small, especially Vicky, and then Christy, that in their experience, they really hadn't accomplished anything unless they had the T-shirt authenticating it. In fact, I think that in several instances, all they wanted was the T-Shirt.

I confess that I wouldn't mind owning a coveted Peachtree Road Race T-shirt, but I'll forgo running the 10k to get it.

Today's version is the blog update in real time. Anyway, yesterday at Stone Mountain every time I turned around, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum were taking pictures on the camera phones. Their wives were snapping away on the digital cameras.

Where was I? It's a reasonable question. After all, I have a digital camera, too.

Who do you think was taking pictures of the shutterbugs?

They're Gone!!! Peace and Quiet...

It's so lonely around here now. [tear]

And now, the adventure begins...cleaning up weird little spills (they were eating ice pops), gathering stray game pieces and unmatched socks. Nobody ever leaves anything cool behind, like the nifty mp3 player Danny makes. No, nothing really cool. Not even a kid.



Oh, and I need to clean the bathrooms. Sixteen people, two bathrooms. Not a recipe for regularity, but we all survived.

My Proud Grad

Presenting:

Victoria Maria Albert. Note that she is able to stand up straight in spite of the awards hanging from her neck. Special note: observe the rappelling rope, tied in a knot at the ends. In the world of things that make her happy, walking down down the side of a building Australian style does it for this kid. Vicky Sola!

"Are you my baby's Daddy?"

I usually carry my camera around with me, letting it sit between the seats and all the other accumulated garbage that lives in my car. It's convenient, and after so many years of wishing that I had a camera when I encountered something photo-worthy, I finally took my own advice and started carrying it in case I ran into something so amazing and newsworthy that I would be able to sell it to the papers for millions and retire. Or, at least be able to mock it here.

With so many activities this week, lamentably, I didn't have my camera when I stopped at the red light after leaving work. I was fiddling with the radio dial and happened to look casually out my window at a small sign posted in the median. It was one of those illegal signs that my father likes removing (he's a Code Enforcement Officer).

Remember the post I made earlier about demographics, and how we feed into stereotypes and lifestyle choices by promoting negative behavior as moral? You don't? It doesn't matter, I'll repeat myself. It was the bail bonds business called "Free at Last."

Anyway, today's moment of unbelievable bad taste and unquestionably horrid morals, I saw a sign advertising a DNA testing service called, yep, "Who' your baby's Daddy?" I am flabbergasted.

Among the services they provide is a list of lawyers that can help with paternity suits once the parentage has been established. I have nothing to add.

finally, an update

This blogging thing is way worse than jogging. It's awesome when you are in form and go do it every day, but just let one day slip by....BAM! who wants to run, uh, blog anymore?

My apologies to those who care. For the rest of you...whatever.

So here I am, in of all places, the breakroom at the college, trying to put my jumbled thoughts on paper before class. I still don't have an office. The Powers That Be are getting a bit annoyed by my presence, and tonight, the security guard that regularly hides in here was put off by my arrival. She had a tiny bit of an attitude. Ha! It would have been more fun if she had a BIG attitude, but she wisely huffed off, mumbling under her breath. I'm sorry there was no explosion. It would have been fun, doncha think? Maybe it would have worked in my favor.

Nevertheless, here I am putting in my hours. What a pain. Nobody comes to visit. Nobody wants any help. I'm giving a lot of F's this term. I wonder why? I don't bite.

Anyway, it's been a very wild week of activity around here. It started of course, with Christy's confirmation, but then moved quickly to Vicky's graduation activities and end of year programs bla bla bla. I shall post a tear jerker of an entry later. Tonight I'm just limbering up my fingers and trying to get back into the discipline of writing daily.

In random thoughts, I have a hankering for a banana split. It's rather warm in here, and dinner was rather unsatisfying. A banana split would do the trick--fill me up AND cool me off a bit. And it's yummy.

Yeah, that would be the ticket. Except, where would I find a banana split around here? I'm going to have to settle for a burned cup of coffee.

just pics...you figure it out

An exciting couple of days...

A long post today, to catch up with all the cool things that have been happening around here. For starters, my parents and Isa arrived on Monday for Christy’s confirmation (last night). It became a mad dash to get them settled in, and then to the church for the rehearsal. Dinner was on the fly--sub sandwiches from Publix (aren't they awesome?) and something my mother whipped up for my father because he is on a special diet.

Then, Tuesday morning we took a little field trip to the monastery. It was a lovely morning--cool and refreshing, but the old folks and Isa were freezing. What a bunch of lightweights. As John would say, "Their hearts pump Kool-Aid."

Another mad dash home--this time for Pop to eat and take his medicine, and me to get ready to teach an afternoon class. I would have cancelled, but I just took over for another teacher so I didn't want the disservice to the students. Isa sat in to watch. She fell asleep. Am I that boring? Sheesh.

Yet another mad dash to pick up Christy to get her nails done, and then flying home to get ready. Somehow with only two bathrooms in the house 8 people took their showers, got dressed, and made it to the church on time. There are large and small miracles every day.

The Confirmation was absolutely awesome! The Holy Spirit always comes through. I will publicly thank Linda, Michael and Jules for such a well-organized and lovely event. Truly magnificent. Captain Astonishing, as always, made an appearance--one that in the big picture was not a big deal, but hey, it's kinda hard to take up the gifts when they weren't set out by the sacristan. Oh, yeah. Captain A, whose job is that? HA!!! A little bit of organized chaos ensued (like that Christy?—a little maternal plagiarism from a yearbook theme?). It didn’t help that Jonathan left so quickly that he wasn't wearing his contacts. A nearsighted cross bearer made for some excitement during that little crisis. Way to go, boy!

Anyway, Archbishop Wilton Gregory rocks! That was the BEST confirmation I’ve ever been to. Ever. He was so engaging, so connected to the kids, and a wonderful homilist to boot. He is very much a people person.

So in spite of the inconvenience of a sacrament on a Tuesday evening (is it proper to complain? I think not) the Mass was wonderful-you'll be relieved to know there was communion after all.

Afterwards, again props to Linda. There was a reception that had lots of food. Iris, you are my hero. You can imagine that by 8:30 when Mass was over we were all starving, and there were mountains of sandwiches from Schlotzsky’s and Publix and chips and fruit salad, and of course the obligatory cake. It was delightful. There was time to sit down at a table and stuff our faces and then visit with good friends. (Incidentally, Jeff looking very good, like himself again).

It was close to 10 when we got home, and Jules and Baker joined the kids to wind down (or up!) but us old folks had other plans. Bedtime for the old folks, as John and I were out of the house by 6:45 this morning. There will be time enough for parties next weekend when the rest of the party animals get here.

I’m posting text only from work, but check out the blog later today for a photo recap of Christy’s big day.

Happy Mother's Day

My love and appreciation for all the mommy's I know, especially mine!!!

The mugging for the camera seems to be genetic, passed on for generations. Hmmm.

It occurs to me that this should be my bonus Self Portrait for 12 on 12. Yeah. It sure is.

See ya soon, Mom!