A true story from Ireland

Pat meets up with a bunch of old friends in the pub. One, let's call him John, introduces Pat to his wife, a woman of rather large proportions. Pat says hello, then rejoins his other buddies. Mick leans over to Pat and says,

"Sure now, you've heard John's been having trouble with his wife?"

Pat says no, ready to hear a story about the usual marital issues - fighting, adultery, etc.

"Well, the other day, she was going down the stairs and didn't she get stuck between the bannister and the wall. They had to call the fire department to get her out."

New York - opening scene

Jessica and I are visiting my sister Amanda in New York this weekend. It all started off well, with Jess and I arriving at Penn Station at 5pm on Saturday. We emerged to the surface, me toting my coffin-sized wheelie bag, only to find that the weekend holiday revelers had beat us there and we (my bag, that is) didn't fit on the sidewalk. A friendly Irish gentleman asked me (unsolicited, because the Irish are like that) if I needed any help. I thanked him, but said no. He then warned me to look out for police officers because they were likely to arrest me for having a bag so large in this part of town. Ha Ha.

I can blame Eliza for my torment since my bag is only so large because I'm transporting necessary goods to her in Ireland.

We called Amanda to verify which subway train to take to her neighborhood. Unfortunately, the choices were "E" "D" or "3", and my cell phone connection was poor. So, Jess and I walked down the block to a hotel and had the hotel person hail us a cab.

Federal Court Cites Ludacris

United States v. Murphy, 406 F.3d 857

On the evening of May 29, 2003, Hayden was smoking crack with three other folks at a trailer park home on Chain of Rocks Road in Granite City, Illinois. Murphy, Sr., who had sold drugs to Hayden several years earlier, showed up later that night. He was friendly at first, but he soon called Hayden a "snitch bitch hoe" n1 and hit her in the head with the back of his hand. He said he saw her name in discovery materials from his son's criminal case and that she was responsible for putting him in jail. He put a gun -- a small chrome-plated one -- to her head and said he was going to kill her for putting his son in jail. He said this would be her last night and her body would be found in a ditch. Murphy then placed several calls, telling Hayden he was calling his people to get someone to dispose of her car.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - Footnotes - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


n1 The trial transcript quotes Ms. Hayden as saying Murphy called her a snitch bitch "hoe." A "hoe," of course, is a tool used for weeding and gardening. We think the court reporter, unfamiliar with rap music (perhaps thankfully so), misunderstood Hayden's response. We have taken the liberty of changing "hoe" to "ho," a staple of rap music vernacular as, for example, when Ludacris raps "You doin' ho activities with ho tendencies."

Happiness

Tee Hee Hee

Today I saw a little person. He was getting into his Mini.

Lily

This morning I asked Lily how she was going to be at school today.
"Difficult."

Very Low Food Security

The USDA has decided to drop the term "hungry" from its report measuring American's access to food. Instead, people who have trouble putting food on the table (for financial reasons - not due to physical difficulties/ergonomics; e.g., short person trying to put food on a very tall table) will now be referred to as having very low food security.

I think that will clear things up.

Tiptoes

I recently purchased a stuffed animal as a gift for my new nephew, Jamie. I'm usually a giver of books, but this toy was so soft and cuddly that I couldn't resist. It happened to be a beaver wearing ballet slippers, named "Tiptoes".

Tiptoes has not yet made it into the arms of my nephew because everyone in my family likes Tiptoes so much. Unfortunately, no one refers to Tiptoes by name.

Everyone comments on it: "Wow, this beaver is so soft and squishy!"
My girls fight over it: "It's MY beaver!" "No, it's MY beaver!"
Even Gramma Susan likes it: "I'm going to grab your beaver!"

I personally can't take the commentary any more and am going to send the beaver off to Ireland post haste.

Bingo Bugle

This weekend I came across the East Bay publication, Bingo Bugle. Thirty-two news pages of pure Bingo-related items. I had no idea...

Accidents do happen...

I recently read a case concerning a member of the military who was convicted of murdering his wife. They had an argument and as she was driving away, he shot her using a sniper rifle from a distance of about 200 yards. He claimed it was an accident. Apparently, the jury didn't believe him.

More, please?

Lily was wondering why parents need to work when spending time at home with the family is the clearly better option. I tried to explain to her that parents need to work to earn money to pay for the house, etc. I liked Lily's solution to the problem:

"When you go to work, just say, 'please, may I have some more money for my house?' and then you can come home."

I don't get it

Bloomingdales opened in San Francisco this week. I only know this because I passed it on my way to school and people had lined up around a city block, waiting for the store to open. Hundreds of people. It's just another store selling shit people don't need. The shit will still be there after opening day. There will be future sales on the shit. I just don't get it. Is shopping for entertainment even more entertaining when one does it with hordes of people who storm the building en masse, like ants on a piece of turkey?

Geek Alert?

I asked Molly, my almost-eight-year-old, who she's been playing with at school.

"Andrea, but our games are getting kind of boring and she never just wants to hang out and talk. So today I talked to Clare."

"Oh, and what did you talk about?"

"Dental care."

I'll admit it, this advice will work for just about any problem.

I write the diary of a 13 year old girl for a website. Each week she asks the readers for advice. Once in a while, she gets a gem:

You can Talk to a cat about your problem then strangle it so it wont tell anybody then throw it in a lake for safe keeping just in case. Send me 100 bucks while you're at it because you got to admit that's good advice. Box face.

Jessica, age 11

Silent Scream

AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!

Sugar and Spice

Lily came up and gave me a snuggle and a kiss the other morning, and I told her she was a nice little girl. She responded in a sing-song, "I'm nice. But not for lo-ong."

Fall is Here

The weather changed over night. Cool air, strong breeze, warm sun set low in the sky. I love fall.

Lawn Update

It looks like my neighbor has decided to be a bit more proactive about growing his lawn. He added several additional clumps of crab grass around the new patch. I estimate that this will reduce the completion time by at least a year, maybe two.

Lawn in the 'Hood

For four years now, I have been watching my neighbor slowly grow his lawn. I laughed when I first noticed he had planted a small clump of crab grass in the center of a square of dirt on one side of his walkway. But he watered it diligently through the summers, and even ran his electric mower over that little patch every week to keep it nice and trim. Now, four years later, it has spread almost completely to the edges. By the end of next summer, he will have a solid bit of lawn.

This summer, after killing off the weeds and carefully turning the soil, he planted a single clump of crab grass on the other side of his walkway. In another five years (assuming the other side doesn't die off before then) he should have a beautiful lawn spanning the front of his home.

I've reasoned that he chose this method for economic reasons, or perhaps convenience. He could have procured the clump from a friend, or maybe from his back yard. I've never planted a lawn myself -- maybe seeds are expensive? Or hard to come by?

What I really want to know is why he didn't plant both sides at the same time. Ten years seems like an awfully long time to wait for a lawn.

Irritating Magnets

My children really like to be near me. I guess that's generally a good thing, but there are times when their insistent proximity begins to feel claustrophobic. Take for instance this summer when we went camping alongside the Consumnes river. I was sitting happily in my lawn chair, enjoying the sunshine except for the fact that Molly and Lily were fighting over my lap. Wishing for a bit of peace, I suggested they fill a big bucket with wet sand and build a castle. The girls dragged the bucket down the bank to the river, filled it with water and wet sand, and with herculean effort, dragged the bucket all the way back up the sandy bank and placed it about six inches from my right leg. Then they climbed in and started jumping, splashing mud all over me.

"Ah, Molly?"
"Yeah?"
"We have an entire beach to ourselves. Why don't you move that somewhere else."
"Oh. Sorry."

She moved it. About two feet behind me. An improvement, yes, but I don't think my point got across.

Happy Gilmore was more dumber

"'Big Daddy" is one of Adam Sandler's more smarter movies."
--Lynn, online movie reviewer

I'm back

Really.

Bidet

I've been house-sitting at my dad's beautful home. This evening, Lily learned about bidets. I had told her not to use it as a toilet because it was "a little bath." Intrigued, she snuck upstairs while I was making dinner, determined to take a little bath on her own. Her screams got me running. She had turned the faucet on full blast so the water shot straight up onto the ceiling, showering the walls and flooding the bathroom floor (sorry, Dad). I don't know much about bidet use, but I can't imagine how a human being could require (or enjoy)the potential power wash a bidet seems to offer.

Judges Do It Too

June 30 2006 at 09:59PM

Bristow, Oklahoma - A US jury has sentenced an
Oklahoma judge to one year in prison for using a penis
pump on the bench during three murder trials and a
civil case in 2002 and 2003.

Donald D Thompson, 59, was convicted on Thursday and
fined $10 000 (about R130 000) for each count.
Thompson told the jury he would also lose his $90
000-a-year pension.

The verdict, which exposed the judge's
behind-the-bench secrets, capped a bizarre and awkward
chapter in the state's judicial history.

Thompson's longtime court reporter, Lisa Foster, wept
on the stand as she recalled how she discovered the
source of a "sh-sh" sound in the courtroom. She said
she spied Thompson's penis inside the pump through a
small gap between a drawer and a door.

'I should have thrown it away, but I didn't'
Foster said she later saw Thompson's penis 15 to 20
times over the course of three years. She also saw him
shave his scrotum and urinate into a trashcan behind
the bench.

"I was really shocked and kind of scared, because it
was so bizarre," Foster said. "I didn't know what to
do."

The defence maintained that the charges were part of a
vendetta by local police to overthrow Thompson.

The judge denied ever using the pump - a device used
in the hope of enlarging the penis or combating
erectile dysfunction - saying it was a joke gift from
his best friend in 2001.

He said he moved the pump back and forth between his
bench and chambers but never used it on his penis.

"Twenty-twenty hindsight: I should have thrown it
away, but I didn't," Thompson said.

The white-handled pump sat on an evidence table in
front of the jury throughout the trial, and both the
prosecution and defence at times picked it up and
squeezed the handle for effect.

Jurors also heard court reporter's tapes from each
trial, and a rhythmic, high-pitched whoosh of air
punctuated emotional witness testimony in the murder
trials.

Testimony in the judge's trial drew giggles and
embarrassed glances from jurors and the gallery in
this conservative Oklahoma hamlet, 96km north-east of
Oklahoma City.

Several witnesses said Thompson often made himself at
home behind the bench, removing his shoes to shine
them and clip his toenails, spitting tobacco into a
cup and fidgeting with an electronic organiser. - Sapa-AFP

Good Man, You

I'm really proud of Warren Buffett for giving 31 billion dollars to the Gates Foundation. When I first read the headline, I was flabbergasted by the idea of having an extra 31 billion dollars to donate. But then I learned that it constitutes 85% of his wealth. He'll still have billions (I think. Damn math. Where's my calculator?) left over, so I suppose it is extra money anyway. But that was really generous. Thank you, Mr. Buffett. I hope it does much good.

The 'Hood

My neighbor Roland recently bought a brand new Land-N-Sea cruiser. It's a cross between a 30 foot motor home and a catamaran. I know this because he has parked it outside his ramshackle house. He had to put it half-way on the side walk so it wouldn't block the street. I suppose that was considerate, at least to the cars. The boat is called a "Lil' Hobo," but he spent the other afternoon carefully removing the "b" and the "o." I suppose "Lil' Ho" does blend in better with the neighborhood.

Signs of Dependence

My vicodin instruction sheet told me to watch for signs of dependence. Apparently those signs include "feeling that you cannot live without this medicine." A most helpful example.

The Toe

I broke my big toe the other morning...Lily had "watered" the stairs. Luckily it didn't happen on 6/6/06 or else I might have become suspicious that she was the Omen child.

I really enjoyed the four hours I spent in the emergency room. Seriously. I knew it would take a while so I brought my book, and essentially viewed it as much needed quiet time. It was also really slow in the ER - aside from my toe, there was just one woman having a heart attack, so I didn't mind waiting patiently for my turn.

The hospital chaplain came to visit me. "So, are you The Toe?"
"Yes, I suppose I am"
He asked me how I was doing and if I needed to talk about it.
"You mean talk about my toe? Well, it hurts, but I think I'll make it through this"
"I'm sure you will."

Narration

Perhaps because they are so thrilled with the new things they can do – or because they want to make full use of their expanding verbal skills, 3 year olds tend to narrate their every move. They don’t just run, for example they do so while screaming, "I’m running!!!"

Lily and I were at a local pizza joint recently when she announced (loudly, holding her self front and back) that she had to go to the bathroom (really badly!). We entered one of the several stalls in the women’s bathroom and her narration began at full volume.

"Mom, I have to poop.....I’m going to push really hard......unnnnnnnnnnngh......unnnnnnnngh..... (her face turns bright red. I start to giggle, as do the several women in the adjoining stalls).
"It’s coming, mommy!!........Oh wow, I got a really big one out!!!....... Am I making you laugh, mommy?..... No, I’m not done, a got a lot more poop in me......I’m going to push really, really hard again......oh, I need to rest a little bit (big sigh)..... okay now I’m going to push again.....there’s another poop, mommy!......Why are you laughing, mommy?....Okay, I’m all done.....You can wipe my butt.

Now why didn't I think of that?

I wonder if they come in rugged/sport style for outdoorsy, country dogs, cause those little wheels won't work well on dirt roads or trails, or across a meadow for that matter.

And they should make a jog stroller version for dogs who like to go running.

If your dog needs one, you can purchase it here.

Me Allotting the Ordinary

I don't normally read spam mail, but I was intrigued by the title of this one (now the title of this blog). I can't remember what was being solicited, but I did find this below the advertisement. I am suspicious that Jon Sadler wrote it. Note the inclusion of his name below. It may be a clue.


...Here among pillows enough for six I soon fell asleep in a blissful condition
Why you see we wasnt aware sir returned the waiter still apologetically as
demeanour He never made a suggestion but once and on that occasion I dont know what put
as he can look at me out of his two eyes Is he indeed said Mr Wilkins
What a delightful and trichinella entertainment Sadler My bellwether young Davy
proposal so very ungraciously that he never ventured on a second but ever afterwards confined...

Mendocino

Today

I walked on the beach (in the rain)
Did yoga (and only fell over a few times)
Soaked in a hot bath (while watching wind blow through the garden, listening to cello concertos)
Slept for three hours (on a really soft mattress, under a thick poofy comforter, with fresh sheets)
Walked on the headlands (as waves crashed below)
Ate dinner with friends (good friends)

That was my whole day.
It was simple and good.

Real Problems

I write an advice column for young girls. Today I came across this.

Dear Auntie Em,
I am absolutley drop dead gorgeouse and I know it but everyone tells me that it's not a good thing to know i'm pretty. But how is that not a good thing when I'm just telling the truth? I can't help that everyone thinks I'm beautiful but I think my friends are getting mad at me but I don't understand why. I think they are just jealouse. Should I just find new friends?? please help ~Makayla~ <<< even my name is beutiful!! :D

Interesting

More than 60 percent of Britons use items such as screwdrivers, scissors and earrings to remove food from between their teeth, according to a survey published Friday.

The National Dental Survey found that, when it came to oral hygiene, people used whatever was close to hand to pick their teeth.

More than 60 percent questioned by the British Dental Health Foundation said they used makeshift items, including knives, keys, needles and forks.

The survey also found that 23 percent of people chose to leave food stuck between their teeth, increasing the risk of gum disease and bad breath, according to the foundation which promotes oral health.

History

In an effort to soothe the savage beasts in the back seat of the car (I was afraid that strapping them down was insufficient), I put on a Cat Stevens tape. It's a home made tape I made in high school, which if you know how old I am, means it's really old (and perhaps indicates my need for high sound quality and my... ah... conservationist nature). Anyway, as the music played, I heard the tell-tale sound of intermittent static - the result of an overly dusty needle playing over a vinyl record. And it hit me - I had made this tape recording from a Cat Stevens record my mom had bought in the 1970s. I liked that. I didn't mention it to the kids though. It would have involved a long explanation about what vinyl records were, and they were quietly listening to the music.

Done

No more lessons, no more books, no more teachers' dirty looks.

Until August.

Equality

I've been thinking about this gate thing between the U.S. and Mexico. It occured to me that it could be a great equalizing factor for the United States, because then we would ALL be living in a gated community.

Finals

I started this blog last semester when I should have been studying for finals.

I'm studying for finals again. Maybe if I blog more and study less I'll do as well as I did last time.

Good Intentions Gone Awry

I went to my law school prom the other weekend. I haven't been to a prom since 1988, so I was prepared to make up for all the years I have suffered through without formal dancing. People don't look very formal at formal dances. I think alcohol has something to do with it.

Shaun had to leave early (1am) so that one of us could be a responsible parent and come home to the kids. Being the ever protective husband, he asked a young man named Blake to keep an eye out for me in his absence. This is a photo of that man around the time when Shaun made that request. Although, in Shaun's favor, I doubt Blake was wearing his drinks at that exact moment.

Law School Fall

I'd heard about the law school fall. It has a lot to do with a heavy backpack full of law books. This morning I experienced it. What should have been a minor trip off the curb, turned into a spectacular roll into the street as my heavy backpack gained momentum while still attached to my back, and hurled me to the ground. I suffered skinned knees, elbows, and hands, and not a little embarassment as people ran to my side, asking if I was alright.

I learned that it takes a really long time to fall to the ground when you're old. Long enough for me to think "oh, I twisted my ankle... no, I really tripped ... hey, wait a minute, I'm falling on the ground.... wow, I just rolled on my back."

Or maybe I'm just a really quick thinker.

Me Too

Last night, Lily whispered in my ear that she needs thousands of dollars.

The Summer Day

I don't know exactly what prayer is.

I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down

into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,

how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,

which is what I have been doing all day.

Tell me, what else should I have done?

Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?

Tell me, what is it you plan to do

with your one wild and precious life?

-- Mary Oliver

I will miss you, Jessica. But I won't forget.

Aspiration, age 3

"Lily, what do you want to be when you grow up?"

"A chicken."

Chocolate

I learned recently that (some) prisons have gift shops and, apparently, at least two of them sell custom tins of chocolate with the prison (logo?) printed on the lid. I know this because my sister Jane sold them the chocolate. That's her job, selling chocolate. Her clients include hotels, wineries, restaurants, and most recently, prisons. She's really good at her job. I think she may be the first chocolatier to break into the prison niche market.

I suggested that she look into the mental hospital market too. She could do custom tins with googly eyes. Jane liked that idea, calling them "looney tins."

So the next time you're in a prison or a mental hospital gift shop and see custom tins of chocolate, you won't have to wonder, "who the heck thought of this?" You'll already know the answer. Jane.

Dating Advice to Boys

Sage advice from a 14 year old girl named Tibby:

I think boys are hot....but I have had my heart broken ALOT of times and here is a tip for boys: when you get asked out by someone you dont like, dont like say: "Gross!" and act like you are throwing up, ok? To actually act like a guy or a MAN then at least say it nicely like: "Well I'm really sorry but I just like you as a friend".....because you don't know how doing that can stick to a girl FOREVER. And don't just like her for her looks, like her for her personalty too.

State of Mind

"Wouldn't it be nice to be a pigeon" flashed through my mind today. I think I am unwell.

Although context for the thought was that I was trying to force myself to read Torts, while the pigeon was taking a bird bath.

Still. Couldn't I have looked beyond the pigeon? Couldn't I have wished I were a tree blowing in the wind? Or at least, perhaps, a finch?

Tigger

As a parent, one of the first things you must learn to do is let go. It starts as early as pregnancy when you have to let go of the idea that you have any control over your body, and culminates in the ultimate letting your child go off on her own into the world. Fortunately, there are many small steps along the way.

For example, when Molly was two, I had to let go of the idea that I could dress her in cute outfits. Apparently, though she had only existed for a matter of months, Molly had developed a clear, independent and wild sense of style that had no room for my humdrum ideas of complementary or matching colors, or belief that one should only wear one outfit at a time.

Molly's fashion heyday was kindled in no small part by an innocent three-dollar purchase of an hideously ugly Tigger-suit (thank you, Auntie Eliza), and a hand-me-down Little Mermaid bathing suit complete with stains and a tattered skirt. Every day, for a year or so, Molly insisted on wearing at least one of the two items. By "insisted" I mean I had a choice of a daily screaming, kicking, crying battle to get her into different clothes that she would rip off as soon as my back was turned, or I could just 'let go' of my feeling that the way she dressed somehow reflected upon me, and let her dress as she liked. She was the freak in the tigger suit, not me.

When Molly started nursery school, she made a new friend, Ivy. Ivy's parents and I arranged a first play date for the girls at the beach. Molly had grown out of both the tigger and mermaid suits by this time and had moved on to princess dress up clothes which included plastic high heels, purses, feather boas, and sparkly jewels. Per usual, I could not convince her to wear a sundress and sandals to the beach and tried to let go of feeling embarrassed by her most impractical get-up for the first play date of her life. Imagine my relief when Ivy stepped from her car in a matching outfit, and they tripped (literally) along together down to the beach.

Though Molly and Ivy were clearly soul mates, I did come to realize that the fashion plague is prevalent among the young set. They are short, but they have strong sense of style that has not yet been diluted by society's expectations and peer pressure. Molly still occasionally puts on an outfit that defies description, but the influence of elementary school style has (sadly? happily?)toned down her fashion statements.

Happy Anniversary

My friends, Jess and Marvin recently celebrated their first wedding anniversary. They got engaged only three months after they started going out. That was about 15 years ago. So though they only have one official year under their marriage belt, it counts for a lot more than that.

The first time I remember hanging out with Jess was at a party, long, long ago. She was drunk. She was also feeling sad (a dangerous combination) because (she cried, repeatedly) Marvin could never love her as much as she loved him. It turned out she was wrong. Although her lamentations were on the sloppy side of sweet, I think of that evening as my introduction to the largeness of her heart.

Thoughtful, quiet (except when drunk), strong, sweet, honorable, determined, safe, appreciative of the perverse, insightful, strong as can be, loyal, delicate, good. Words that jump to my mind when I think of Jess. When I was asked at my job to find another writer to work with, I knew it would be Jess. "She's my angel friend" was my recommendation. Not the usual criteria for hiring, but it seemed to work for my boss. I guess we were in need of an angel.

Jess has been sick for a while and through our discussions about life and death I know that she (like anyone) wants her life to be meaningful, to affect the lives of others. She has. Jess has taught me about goodness, about quiet strength, about true love. When I want to be a less selfish and more honorable person, I think about what Jess would do in the same situation. Admittedly, sometimes I've had to call her to find that out.

I wish Marvin and Jess many more years of happiness and count myself lucky to be a continuing part of their lives.

George

George swept up around the bar where I worked in exchange for sodas and company. He lived down the street in a residence home where he was irregularly medicated for his mental instability (which came first, I wonder).

I'd chat with George when business was slow, and over the years gathered bits and pieces of his story as they fell through the cracks of his dementia.

George was as unsure of the details as I am now, but he did kill a man when he was in his teens or early twenties. Angry (high on speed?), he pushed an old man who fell and hit his head and died.

George was sent to a mental hospital instead of prison, and years of drug and shock 'therapy' brought him through to his present condition of a state-mandated medicated existence.

Some days he'd be lucid, crack jokes, tell me he loved me with his gummy smile, and ask for my hand in marriage. I always demurred, "you're too old for me, George" and he'd laugh.

Other days he'd show up agitated, grinding his jaw, incoherent, and I'd send him home. "George, you're too crazy today, you can't stay here. Come back tomorrow. " He'd acquiesce and stumble back down the street.

Once I asked him if he'd pose for a portrait. I had been taking photographs of family and friends and was intrigued by the way people responded to the camera. Most people were self-conscious when being photographed, and often preferred to look away as though I weren't standing right in front of them. I wondered what it would be like to photograph George.

George, of course, was different. He had no self-consciousness. Maybe the drugs had taken care of that. He stared straight into the lens, not posing, just staring. He wasn't looking at the camera, but looking through it. At me. It made me feel self-conscious. I hadn't expected that.

He died several years ago. His condition had deteriorated so much that we couldn't allow him in the bar anymore. He insisted his caretakers were trying to kill him by overmedicating him. Our bar manager went down to the home to see what was going on and tried to help. I don't think it did much good.

He died alone and I don't know whether he expected anyone to remember him. I haven't thought about George in years, but he popped into my head for some reason the other night. So I dug up these photos and remembered him here.

Truth

"In a world congested with falsity, the anus becomes the final unimpeded outlet to truth, the last bastion of rebelllion where life force is stored and preserved. "

-- Han Shaogong, A Dictionary of Maqiao

Lazy Parents

Lily didn't get what she wanted the other day (gum for breakfast? Molly's special toy?) and had commenced her strategy of parental torture, hoping we'd give in. This entailed lying on her back in her pink fleece nightgown, whining as she scooted herself in circles around us on the floor. Shaun turned to me.
"Shall I put her in her room?"
"I don't know. She's not whining that loudly, and she is cleaning the floor."
"True."
"Although it would work a lot better if she were wet."

We didn't get to hose her down. I guess Lily picked up from our conversation that her tactics had backfired. She stopped whining and wandered off to play in her room.

Blind?

While I was in a movie theater, a blind woman walked past me down the aisle. I assumed she was blind because she had to use her white cane to find a seat. I found it rather odd. I had difficulty concentrating on the film (Syriana, which did require some concentration), because I kept wondering what she was experiencing. I left after the first two hours because I got bored with the film. She didn't.

Milk

We got lost in Chicago. We rented a car downtown and hit the road with a thumbnail map of the area around the rental car place and vague directions to the freeway. It didn’t take us long to drive off the map, miss an important turn, and end up in some distant neighborhood. If we didn’t live in the ‘hood at home, we might have been nervous. We stopped at a drive-through ‘restaurant’ for some edibles. Shaun ordered milk for the girls.
“Do you want white milk or black milk?” asked the (black) lady behind the counter.
“Excuse me?”
“Do you want white milk or black milk?”
“Uh… white milk, please.”
“We’re all out of white milk.”

I don’t think we passed her test. But we did get our food. And eventually found the freeway.

Resolutions

I didn't make any resolutions this year. I'm just going to keep on truckin'.

Ruby Canyon

Our train was ten hours late coming in to Chicago. One of our unscheduled stops was in Ruby Canyon next to an abandoned freight train.

Galesburg, Illinois

My family and I recently took the train from the Bay Area to Chicago. We passed through Galesburg, Illinois at night.

Sexy Trees

I thought tree faces would go the way of the haircutting umbrella – something you find in a catalog full of equally odd items that never reach mainstream. I was wrong. It seems to be catching on. Just google “tree face” and you’ll see. At first I was worried, you know, about where America was heading and all that. But then it occurred to me that this could be the answer to our deforestation problems. If the trees looked more like people, then maybe people wouldn’t cut them down. But it would probably work better if the faces were more attractive. And female. And sexy. That would give tree-hugging a whole new dimension.