Showing posts from April, 2013

Day-off Triathlon

Once a month, I get this one day. A weekday when I don't have to work, because I'm working during the weekend. It's a day where I have no work and Boy is at school and I can do whatever I want. I used to make sure to do something fun on That Day, either going hiking up on the bluffs or to the Botanical Gardens, a massage, photography excursion or retail therapy or just some quality coffeehouse time... something fun, a mental health day. Yeah. That doesn't happen anymore. • Awaken to phone call from new client whose stuff I'll be selling online on consignment. This is my latest part-time gig, trying to raise money for Ze Wedding. I've been doing it for charity for quite some time; now I'm also doing it for money. Because if we don't find a way to raise more money soon, we have to postpone our wedding. Do not want. • Receive email that someone wants to buy our old washer. Immediately assist Jimmy with removal of our back door, so we will be able to

I am angry.

I AM ANGRY.  I am the Relay for Life team captain for St. Andrew's Episcopal Church, and I do this because each and every one of us has known someone with cancer. Some of our team members have even fought the battle themselves. When you sit down and think about it, is there anyone who DOESN'T know a cancer survivor, or has lost someone to this disease? I AM ANGRY.  I watch as this disease carries off brilliant artists, actors, musicians and writers without pause. I see grieving families and I know that none of it has to happen. When my team began walking, one of us was a cancer survivor. Eight years later nearly half of us are survivors. What does that tell us about the pervasiveness of this disease? Some time ago, I lost a dear friend after ten years of battle against the cancer that invaded her, and she was my age. She deserved more life than she got. It isn't right, or fair. I miss her, and I wish she had more time with us. And I AM ANGRY. Canc

For the love of Edward R. Murrow...

...I beg you all to stop it. • The Sandy Hook principal's photo is not being re-used in Boston. She really died at Sandy Hook and you're looking at photo manipulation. • The young man bent over the woman's body in Boston was not mourning his dead fiancee. They were strangers and he was comforting the victim. • There was no little girl running in honor of Sandy Hook killed in the blast; the Boston Marathon does not allow children to run. • Race organizers are not donating money for retweets; that was some cretin's idea of a prank. • The Facebook page in memory of the bombing was not created in advance of the blasts. • The so-called "fake" victim who lost his legs in Afghanistan is not the same person as the man seen wheeled to an ambulance with severe leg trauma. They are two different men, and both have lost their legs, and neither of them is "fake." • They didn't shut down the cell network; there is no cell "kill switch."

In which the author has the mentality of a twelve-year-old

SCENE: Eville Writers write-in. Jimmy is, as usual, struggling with Microsoft Word. JIMMY: *frowns at laptop* ME: What's wrong? JIMMY: Can you help me get my thing back up? ME: ... OTHER WRITERS: ... ME: *snorfle* OTHER WRITERS: *knowing glances* ME: *cover mouth with hands* JIMMY: *looks at me* Oh.... hush. You know what I mean. ME: Rarely. *smirk* JIMMY: The... thing. With the fonts. ME: The formatting palette. Look under "View." JIMMY: Thank you. *taptaptap* ME: *smirk* JIMMY: (under his breath) Devil woman. What I should have said: "Honey, I can help you, but we want to be allowed back here someday..."

Chief Cook and Bottle Washer

In order to understand this, you should know that our kitchen has a portable dishwasher that has a short. If you hook it up, it will shock you. We do not use it, though it makes for nice countertop space until we can afford a new cabinet. You should also know that we have a great division of labor in the house. I cook the food. Man washes the dishes. Boy dries and puts them away. Rinse, repeat. ME: Okay, time for dishes! BOY: *deepsigh* ME: Oh please. BOY: We should use the dishwasher. ME: No way. It'll kill you dead. BOY: It'd be worth it! ME: What, to die? BOY: Yes! ME: *eyeroll* MAN: It doesn't work anyway. I tried. ME: Are you kidding? MAN: When we first moved in! ME: Thank God. Because the electrician was so horrified by that thing he wanted to get rid of it just so we wouldn't sue him if we used it and we died. BOY: I hate the dishes. ME: Besides, we have a dishwasher. And he's cute. *wolf whistle* MAN: *eyeroll* BOY: Let's get a new one.