Note to self:

When attending an outdoor event in Seattle, if there is even the tiniest chance of rain, wear waterproof shoes.  Vans are not appropriate as rainy day shoes.  And don't leave your Gore-tex jacket in the car.

Dear Politicians and Groups Trying to Gain My Vote

Stop it.  Stop it.  Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.

Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.

Stop it. Stop it.

Stop it.

Your negative ads are not only a logical fallacy but they are making my ears bleed.  You killed too many trees while clogging my mail box telling me to think of the children.  Stop it.

Stop!

Intent, part 2

The more I write for this blog, the more blogs I read out there in the blogosphere.  (Somewhere, there are the Ghosts of Professors Past doing their best Mr. Burns' impressions.  Excellent!)  And, gracious, there is a crapton of blogs out there.  I guess everyone with a computer is a writer.  (Reminds me of a Family Guy quote: Every hot girl who can aim a camera thinks she's a photographer.)  I'm not belittling any one's contribution to the blogosphere nor am I being a writing snob.  Here's what I've noticed.

1.  The majority of blogs have a specific focus.  Mommy blogs, daddy blogs, fashion blogs, rage blogs, and so on and so on.  (I claim in my info that I will not be pigeonholed into one blogging category.  I just like to ramble about anything.)  And, the reason these blogs have a specific focus is to do the next item.

2.  The majority of blogs want/try to build a fan base.  Please repost this to your awkward social network.  You like me, you really like me.  And so on and so on.  The reason these blogs have a fan base is to do the next item.

3.  The majority of blogs are trying to make money.  Maybe I'm just naive, but this one surprised me. I've had to wade through so many advertising side bars and pitches for my latest book and come here me lecture at the College of Kalamazoo.  Blogging in and of itself is a job?  Really??  I can understand if one works for a publication to have a blog make money.  I can also understand if a famous person starts a blog after the celebrity is established.  (I believe that is why I follow Steve Martin on Twitter.  He's that damn funny.)  But, gaining popularity/celebrity BECAUSE you have a blog seems backwards to me.  It's like being famous for being famous (I'm looking at your Ms. Hilton).  Then again, I do love The Oatmeal.  I guess it's all about intent.  If you want to make money in your pajamas, you can do it.  Just send me $49.95 and I'll send you my instructional DVD.

Speaking of intent, I would like to address the people who leave comments on these bazillion blogs out there.  Stop promoting your own blog in the comments (it's like spamming).  And stop trolling.  Have you nothing better to do with your time than correct other people's mistakes?  If you really get your ya-yas by trashing the grammar of others, then become an English teacher.  (I know you really do it to make yourself feel powerful and mightier.  Having low self-esteem can be so socially crippling.)

An Experiment

I'm writing this from my Kindle. How freaking awesome is that! It's a little awkward to type a whole lot. Now I don't need to get a smartphone. Let's be honest; I really just wanted a smartphone to play Angry Birds. Take that, overpriced data plans!

Curse you, Madison Avenue

I am grateful that the shows the boys enjoy watching are on PBS.  No freaking commercials.  When they do watch a show on the networks, I'm starting to hear, "Mommy, we need to go get that!"  Ugh!  But, sadly, it isn't just the commercials anymore that influence Drake's brain.  Here are a few examples:

D: Mommy, we need to go buy M&Ms at Albertson's.
Whaaaa...?  I get the candy part, but Albertson's?  What the heck?  We were watching the NASCAR race, and sure enough, on the #18 M&Ms car was a teeny tiny sticker for Albertson's.  Wow, is he ever paying attention.

The boys were watching Curious George.  Popcorn is featured prominently in one episode.  I turned the TV off after the show for dinner time and I hear, "Mommy, we need to get some popcorn."  He threw quite a fit when I told him we can't have popcorn for dinner.  (When I was in college, sure, popcorn for dinner was fair game.)

Yesterday's CG episode was "Juicy George."  The monkey gets a hold of a juicer.  Chaos ensues.  The resulting juice is quite tasty.  I turned the TV off.
D:  Mommy, we need to juice something.
Me:  We don't have a juicer, honey.
D: Oh, OK, let's go buy a juicer RIGHT NOW.
Me: No, Drake, we are not going to buy a juicer.
D:  WAAAAAHHHHH!
Me:  We do have a blender.
D: *pause in hissy fit*  What do blenders do?
Me: They blend things.  Should we go to the store tomorrow and buy some fruit to make juice in the blender?
D:  Oh!  Let's go RIGHT NOW.
Me:  It's dinner time.  We'll go to the store tomorrow.
D:  WAAAAAAHHHHHH!
We did go to the store today to buy juice-making ingredients.  Drake picked them out.  Here is the recipe:
               1 mango
               2 black plums
               1 lemon
               1 1/2 cup 7-up
               Remove skin from fruit and chop into little bits.  Put little bits in blender with liquid.  Blend.
The result didn't completely suck.  Drake wasn't a huge fan of our recipe.  He decided we are going to try again on Sunday afternoon.  (I think we went horribly wrong with the lemon.)  More importantly, we had a really good time with the process, even if the result was less than tasty.

My/Not My Drake

My Drake

Not my Drake

My Drake

Not my Drake

My Drake

Not my Drake

My Drake

So not my Drake

Chicken wings

It's no secret that I have very little upper body strength.  As a kid, it was a source of ridicule from my family.  I was shaky carrying the gallon of milk to the dinner table.  I never could climb the rope in gym class.  Tim makes a clucking sound whenever I bring him a bottle/jar that I cannot open.  I've tried most of the jar opening devices to no avail (they all really, really suck).  Then, this past Father's Day, my jar-opening savior arrived in an unexpected place.  While in the Craftsman department of Sears, Drake picked out an unusual tool to give Tim for the holiday: a strap wrench.  Let's just say that it never found it's way into the man cave/workshop.  It works!  I don't know if it was intended for use in the kitchen, but it's never leaving the room now.  Tim knows where to find it, should he need it.

Where have you been all my life?