Becky-dot-blog

Happy Anniversary

2007-10-02T07:31:00.000-04:00

Look how cute and skinny we were! Nine years... it's gone fast.

Weight Watchers Update

2007-02-24T11:58:00.000-05:00

5.6 pounds down so far! Can I get a "woot" up in here?

I Did It

2007-01-31T14:58:00.000-05:00

I got really tired of looking at my fat butt so... I joined Weight Watchers today. Seriously. It feels really good to have done something about it, you know? With my family history, I have absolutely no business being overweight. Period.

Good-bye, Greg

2006-12-01T09:30:00.000-05:00

If you haven't heard the news yet, Greg Page (the Yellow Wiggle), is leaving because a chronic condition has made it impossible to keep performing.

How on earth am I supposed to explain this to Sam-the-man? He LOVES the Wiggles. *sigh*

Good luck, Greg -- we wish you well!

Raggedy Ann Looking Pretty Raggedy...

2006-11-17T08:06:00.000-05:00

Something really sad happened last night at my house, and I'm having a hard time not letting it get to me. We had lots of rain all night Wednesday night into Thursday morning. So when hubby got home yesterday, he ran downstairs to start a load of laundry (the basement)... and found that the cover on one of the windows had been blown off in all the rain. End result... a Raggedy Ann doll my grandmother made for my mother is completely ruined. I can't replace it, and I feel absolutely awful about it.

What makes it worse is, Granny had made a Raggedy Ann doll for my first birthday that has long since disappeared (I think my dad's second wife, from whom he is now divorced, took it with her -- she ruined a bunch of his stuff and stole random things from our attic when she moved out). So when Mom died in 2004, I asked my brother and sister if I could have Mom's Raggedy Ann, since they both still had theirs. I think what's killing me is the guilt. I feel like somehow I should have known better than for that doll to be in the basement or that I should have gone downstairs myself before hubby came home. Nothing else appears to be ruined at all... just Ann. It feels like I allowed a piece of Mom and Granny to be ruined. I know I'm being very silly -- things can't take the place of memories, and all that, but... when hubby came up the stairs and told me what happened, I just couldn't help but cry. And my sister's supposed to come to visit for Thanksgiving... I can't tell her about this right now. Maybe later. But not right now. *sigh*

Thank a Veteran!

2006-11-13T09:30:00.000-05:00

Dad, Pop, Marty and Tony... you guys rock.

A City in Mourning

2006-08-29T15:03:00.000-04:00

In all seriousness, I just wanted to express my sadness and condolences, after the crash of Flight 5191 at Blue Grass Field in Lexington, KY.

My hometown is one of those places that has retained a small-town feel, even though it's grown a lot and now is home to more than a quarter-million people. If you didn't know someone on that plane, odds are you know someone who did. For myself, fortunately, the connection is only slight -- I had interviewed one of the passengers a long time ago when I worked as a reporter at the NPR affiliate in Lexington, WUKY.

We may never fully understand the whys or the hows, but I know that Lexington is filled with a wonderful sense of community, and the city will move forward together.

Pregnant Man?

2006-08-29T14:00:00.000-04:00

Mutant twin alert! How on earth did no one notice this man was carrying around his undigested, mutated twin!

No Thanks, I'm Not Hungry

2006-08-11T17:21:00.000-04:00

It turns out English is really trendy in Japan, whether it makes sense or not.

I am Bored!

2006-07-20T18:02:00.000-04:00

You Are Ernie

Playful and childlike, you are everyone's favorite friend - even if your goofy antics get annoying at times.

You are usually feeling: Amused - you are very easily entertained

You are famous for: Always making people smile. From your silly songs to your wild pranks, you keep things fun.

How you life your life: With ease. Life is only difficult when your friends won't play with you!

The Sesame Street Personality Quiz

Welcome Back, Charlie!

2006-07-17T12:00:00.000-04:00

What an adventure!

The people who've been helping me with the yard work this month must have left the gate open last night, because I realized around 10:30 that I needed to give Charlie the Beagle his medicine (anti-histamines, if you can believe it!)... and Charlie was nowhere to be found.

Now, if you know anything at all about beagles, you know at this point I was in panic-mode. I just knew he'd been hit by a car or was wandering through the woods chasing a rabbit. I thought I would never see him again. In fact, it's a known characteristic of the breed: "Beagles have a tendency to follow their own noses. They may take off on their own exploration if let off their leash in an unfenced area."

To make a case in point, most of the dogs in the local pound here right now are beagles or beagle/hound mixes. I know, because I was looking for Charlie.

Complicating my panic attack, was that I knew I had just taken Charlie's collar off for the night. Since he's got those darn allergies, he scratches and when he has the collar on, it jingles and keeps me awake. So I just knew he was far, far from home, with no identification and no way to get back.

I packed up a pajama-clad toddler and Charlie's collar and leash and fired up the van. Drove all over the neighborhood, out to the main roads, all the while with my head out the window, yelling. "Charlie! Charlie!"

No luck. I finally had to admit defeat and head back home. I put the boy back to bed, and let myself think about the unthinkable. Charlie was probably dead and it was my fault for not checking the gate behind the yard people.

I got online and put lost pet notices on the local SPCA and pound websites, and arranged to have a classified ad in the paper. Lost, neutered male beagle. Textbook tri-color markings, with a white tip of his tail and a white belly, brown head and ears, and black back. The pigment of one eye "bleeds" over into the white part. Answers to the name of Charlie Brown.

It was nearly midnight as I finished this, and suddenly there was a funny noise at the back door. "Bowwwwwwwwwww!"

There he was, covered in mud and shaking with excitement to be home! I don't know how he managed to find us again, but he did. He gulped down all the water in his bowl, twice. Then he hopped up on the bed, turned around three times, and curled up right in the middle.

I didn't even mind that he snored.

Careful What You Wish For

2006-07-14T17:24:00.000-04:00

I'd been lamenting the lack of news here in the backwoods of Virginia.

Then we had a monkey escape from the zoo, a break-in at the police academy, a five hour police standoff, and a carbon monoxide poisoning scare at the local college -- all in the span of eight days.

Maybe I shouldn't have been complaining!

Where's Bob Vila When You Need Him?

2006-06-29T06:34:00.000-04:00

So, a week ago today, we started remodeling our bathroom. We removed the tub, thinking foolishly that we would only be sans shower for, oh, a day or two at the most.

Wrong.

Got the tub out only to discover that the previous owners of our house had not properly sealed the tub, thereby causing the walls behind to be warped and moldy. Had to cut them out and hang new drywall.

Went to replace the tub faucet and found that the previous owners had messed up the pipes such that our new faucet wouldn't fit without the assistance of an actual, licensed plumber.

And so it goes. The first plumber we hired was supposed to show up Monday for the roughly 20 minute job, but he busted his ankle doing an emergency flooded basement and had to cancel. (Not that he actually called us to tell us that -- by 1 pm when he hadn't shown for the 9 am appointment, we had to call the service to find out what was going on.) And since Virginia's been literally deluged this week by tropical rain, ever freakin' plumber in the mid-Atlantic is booked up dealing with flooded basements. The plumber who was supposed to show up Tuesday didn't show, and neither did the one Wednesday.

So here's knocking on some serious wood that the plumber who we scheduled to come in today will actually show up. I'm getting really tired of washing my hair in the sink!

Paging Mister Travel

2006-06-26T15:27:00.000-04:00

So, speaking of my blonde staff...

I asked a reporter the other day to interview a local travel agency. I specifically said, "Call up Martin Travel and see how the new airline is faring."

So she looks up the number, calls, and this is the conversation I overhear:

"Hello, this is 'Wendy' (not her real name) from ________ radio... can I talk to Mister Travel?"

Pause...

"Mister... Martin Travel?"

Pause...

I only have three words: God help me.

All Right, All Right!

2006-06-13T10:53:00.000-04:00

You guilted me into it. I've been away too long, and now I am back.

What have you missed?

Only several examples of the blondest reporting team in southwestern Virginia. But that can wait.

The Corner Office

2006-04-21T22:09:00.000-04:00

So, to let you know why I've been so scarce lately, I got a promotion. It's a nice move for me and I finally get an office -- you know, with a door and everything. No longer in the land of the cubes! But it means I am much busier than I was before. Nothing personal -- unless you count that BO. Man, you should take a shower.

My Dog Can Still Moo

2006-04-20T17:05:00.000-04:00

The boys went camping for spring break, so it was just me and the beagle the last few days. Pretty nice -- work has been hectic, so coming home to a quiet house and getting to eat whatever I want, watch whatever I want and let's not forget I didn't have to do any potty training -- definitely nice. Not for always, mind you, just for a few days. I was ready for them to come home when they got back.

But it just confirmed what I already knew. My dog is the laziest dog on the face of the planet. He is a big wimp.

He slept in my husband's spot on the bed the whole time he was gone. Hubby, for those who didn't know, hogs the middle of the bed. I wasn't about to tolerate this from Charlie the Beagle, who doesn't smell nearly as nice as my hubby.

Tried to move the dog. He wouldn't budge. Tried to move him again. "Moooooo," he grunted, as he reluctantly shifted a mere centimeter.

I swear, he must have been a cow in his previous life.

Why Does This Bother Me So Much?

2006-04-14T05:16:00.000-04:00

I despise the Easter Bunny.

What do I have against him?

Well, I guess it's more like, what do I have against the early Church?

It really bugs me that we have a wonderful Christian holiday that goes hand-in-hand with obvious, blatant symbols of fertility rituals from the ancient world. I just can't get behind the idea of a church hosting an egg hunt, for instance.

I don't want my little boy to grow up thinking Jesus has anything to do with paying homage to fertility goddesses by celebrating the rabbit or the egg.

But the catch-22 is... I guarantee you when we get to church Sunday morning, some well-meaning older person that doesn't think before they speak is going to ask Sam what the Easter Bunny brought him. So should I feel obligated to put a basket together for the kid, all the while feeling like I'm perpetuating something I detest? Or stick to my guns, and risk that the kid will find out he's missing out on a lot of candy?

*Sigh*

This Really Works

2006-03-31T14:38:00.000-05:00

http://www.dr-joe.net/quiz.html

How Rude!

2006-03-30T15:27:00.000-05:00

So I'm in the breakroom this morning, and someone overhears me saying how I'm planning to give my dad tickets to the first and second rounds of the NCAA tournament for his birthday next year, because I found out some of the games are going to be played at Rupp Arena. You know, where the Kentucky Wildcats play.

So this chick goes, "Oh, I've been to Kentucky!" and proceeds to say how she took a tour of Rupp and got to see Churchill Downs and all this other stuff.

Then she says, "I was really surprised what a small town Churchill Downs is in."

And I said, "HUH? Churchill Downs is in Louisville. That's a million people."

She says, "No, it was on this little two-lane road."

And right there, I know she's not talking about Churchill Downs. Because the joint is *right off freaking interstate 65 in the middle of busy, bustling freaking Louisville.*

So I say, still in a puzzled but polite tone of voice, "But Churchill Downs is on I-65."

And she goes, as if this somehow makes her the expert, "But honey, I've been there."

And I say, "I used to live and work in Louisville."

And she says -- get this -- all huffy, "I'm not going to argue with you," and walks off practically with steam coming out of her ears.

OK, I'm not claiming to be a racing industry expert or anything, but I think someone who was born and raised somewhere probably knows the geography a little better than someone who drove through there once.

Lessons Learned

2006-03-27T11:20:00.000-05:00

So I'm working on this series about MySpace and local teens, and I've come to a few startling conclusions.

1) Wow. Kids are having sex and drinking serious hard liquor with a lot more frequency and way younger than I would have believed!

2) Kids have absolutely no problem posting incriminating pictures of themselves (with beer, for instance, or chugging Jack).

3) I cAn'T sTaNd pEoPlE wHo TyPe LiKe ThIs... which is practically everyone under the age of 20, evidently.

Here He Is... Eneman!

2006-03-21T12:51:00.000-05:00

If Only It Weren't True

2006-03-20T17:12:00.000-05:00

I know, I know -- it's been awhile. But we've all had the flu at our house, and then the subsequent catching up from having had to take off work... so, not much time for blogging the last few weeks.

But I couldn't let this one go. I got a news release from our minor league hockey team today. They're doing some kind of colon cancer awareness event later this month, sponsored by -- I am not making this up -- Fleet. As in, the Fleet enema.

But that's not all.

Fleet is bringing its MASCOT to the hockey game -- EneMan.

I kid you not, it's like a giant walking... well, enema. Only with hands and eyes. Oh, if only I could say it weren't true. If attendance weren't already dwindling at the hockey games, I can personally guarantee that EneMan is going to squelch it!

Pictures coming...

Feeling Bored?

2006-02-27T12:11:00.000-05:00

I thank Steve for this game.

That's It... I Drink Only From My Own Hip Flask From Now On

2006-02-23T13:15:00.000-05:00

You scored as Poison. Your death will be by poison, probably because you are a glutton and are around so many people that it would be easy to get away with it. Several important people in history share your fate.

Posion

67%

Gunshot

67%

Suicide

67%

Bomb

60%

Natural Causes

60%

Stabbed

53%

Accident

47%

Disease

47%

Cut Throat

33%

Eaten

20%

Drowning

20%

Disappear

13%

Suffocated

13%

How Will You Die??
created with QuizFarm.com

I Should've Known

2006-02-13T18:02:00.000-05:00

You're a Beagle! You're small, athletic, and

intelligent, but easily distracted.

What kind of dog are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

I have a beagle... and it turns out, I am a beagle.

Child of Grace

2006-02-13T10:42:00.000-05:00

Went sledding with the boys this weekend... had a blast, until I betrayed my birthright as a Tuesday's child. (You know, Monday's child is fair of face, Tuesday's child is full of grace...)

Hit a bump, went flying, rolled end over end and landed on my hand. A couple of x-rays and a splint later, I'm on the mend, but meantime I've endured countless jokes at my expense from DH. Not least of was, "Gee, they must have run out of grace on that Tuesday, eh honey?"

So... what have we learned?

Inflatable sled... $30

Obnoxious co-pay plus x-ray fees... $35

Getting to rib Mommy all weekend about her broken middle finger... Priceless!

Bork Bork!

2006-02-09T14:20:00.000-05:00

I have a new favorite website, and it is http://www.rinkworks.com/dialect/ -- you can type in any website, and see it instantly translated to a number of dialects, including:

Swedish Chef (my personal favorite)
Redneck
Elmer Fudd
Cockney
Moron

And more.

To give you a taste, this is how the top of my website would read in Swedish Chef:

Becky-dut-blug
She-a rembles a leettle-a, runts a leettle-a, und oozeerveese-a chruneecles deeely leeffe-a in suoothvestern Furgeenia.

And my post from Tuesday looked like this:

Tooesdey, Febrooery 07, 2006
Lurd, Help Us. Um gesh dee bork, bork! Help Us Ell.

Call me the world's biggest dork if you want, but I haven't laughed this hard in a week. I've been dialectizing websites for local government, the newspaper and even my husband's first grade class. Too much fun! Bork bork, hurty flurty schnipp schnipp!

Lord, Help Us. Help Us All.

2006-02-07T13:22:00.000-05:00

Stoop-erman!

2006-01-25T16:27:00.000-05:00

Let me bring you up to speed on the antics of Sam-the-Man. The boy, who just turned three last Tuesday, has now moved officially into the "SuperHero" phase of development, clearly delineated by Piaget.

This phase appears somewhere between the "sensory motor period" (0 to 24 months) and the "preoperational period" (2 to 7 years). What happens, according to this researcher (me), is that somewhere between two and three years of age, a small boy discovers that it is immensely funny to jump from increasingly higher objects.

Then he discovers that it is even funnier to do so while wearing nothing except training pants and a towel around the neck (as a cape).

Then he discovers that if one jumps, so attired, and also yells, "Stooperman!", his parents dissolve into giggling fits.

And as Skinner would tell you, that's reward enough to encourage the behavior. *sigh*

Where is the Karma?

2006-01-19T14:02:00.000-05:00

How is it that good, honest, hard-working, decent people (me and my husband) have to work our sticky buns off trying to make a buck and do things like pay for my son's birthday cake, and yet... Marcus. Vick. can. still. enter. the. NFL. draft?!?!

Let's recap: the former Virginia Tech quarterback was canned by the school earlier this month, after he was spotted stomping on another player's leg (no accident) in the Gator Bowl and was pulled over for speeding and didn't have a valid driver's license. This, after Tech had virtually given him several second chances already. (His reinstatement after a pot/speeding bust and a conviction involving an underage drinking party was contingent on him keeping out of trouble.)

But the younger, dumber brother of Michael Vick (not that he's a saint either) is still going to make more money than I'll ever see in a lifetime, all because he can throw a freakin' ball.

The deadbeat declared his eligibility for the NFL draft after his dismissal from Tech. Today, the NFL approved his bid to enter the draft. What really stinks is, I guarantee you there's some team out there that will take him.

Still, this made me feel better.

Corrupt Local Government Officials Update

2006-01-18T15:19:00.000-05:00

I got a couple of responses. The upshot is I pretty much can't do anything except make them sound bad on the air and incite citizens to keep a sharp eye on activities. That said...

My stories and concerns did prompt a citizens' group to form, request city council e-mails through a FOIA request, and as a result at least one meeting has had to be rescheduled because it lacked proper legal notice under state law.

I Will Only Say This Once

2006-01-11T15:31:00.000-05:00

You know you're really looking bad on the basketball court when a five foot tall white girl is sitting on her couch telling you to pass. the. dag. gone. ball!

My beloved Cats have sunk to a new low.

First there was this, a mediocre Kansas team that blew out my boys in blue and looked bored doing it.

My jaw felt permanently attached to the floor as I watched, in horror. The guys didn't pass. They didn't dribble. They were barely there at all.

I wrote it off as a fluke.

I can't write it off as a fluke anymore. Vandy beat us at Rupp. VANDY! BEAT! THE! UNIVERSITY! OF! KENTUCKY! AT! FREAKIN! RUPP! FREAKIN! ARENA!

Do you know that's never happened before? The last time Vanderbilt won in Lexington was two years before Rupp Arena even existed, in the early 70's, before I was born.

I officially declare my beloved team kaput.

Somebody please offer Tubby Smith a job somewhere else.

Silence Not Always Golden

2006-01-04T16:51:00.000-05:00

I've waited most of the day to post on this, because I really wanted to sort out what I thought. Most of us watched, all day Monday and Tuesday, as the tragedy unfolded in West Virginia. We hoped, against all hope, there would be survivors.

Sometime around midnight Wednesday morning, family members got a phone call that brought them great joy: they were told 12 miners had been found, all alive. This came just a few hours after one miner was discovered dead. It isn't immediately clear who made the phone call, but what happened after is clear: the families poured out of the Sago Baptist Church, dancing for joy and ringing the church bell and spreading the word to anyone who would listen.

Why didn't the mining company stop them sooner to correct the misinformation? They were left celebrating for three full hours before anyone said otherwise to them.

What's more, because most east coast newspapers go to the press at around three a.m., the mining company's delayed response inadvertantly caused hundreds of newspapers nationwide to print a horrifyingly, sadly wrong headline, proclaiming "They're Alive".

Don't get me wrong, I believe it was irresponsible for many in the media to run with the story unattributed - that is, taking the word of family members as official. At the least, it should have been qualified as unofficial. But I think the real tragedy came at the hands of mining company officials, who not only delayed the heartbreak but magnified it by staying silent.

There's No Place Like Home for the Holidays

2006-01-04T16:01:00.000-05:00

Fresh off a trip to Home, Sweet Home... and rejuvenated and energized for 2006! Wishing everyone a wonderful new year and showers of blessings.

Free Speech Update

2005-12-27T12:54:00.000-05:00

I've gotten a lot of support from y'all, and boy has it been appreciated. I guess I knew I would do something, I just wanted some encouragement.

At any rate, I did send e-mails to the Virginia Coalition for Open Government and the Virginia Association of Broadcasters, seeking assistance. Hopefully I'll hear something soon -- I expect a small delay because of the holidays, of course.

Thanks again to all who offered help!

Free Speech If You Can Get It

2005-12-23T10:51:00.000-05:00

As a reporter, I've mostly enjoyed pretty open access to our government leaders on the local level, and even to a small extent on the state and national level.

Until now.

For the first time ever, I am seriously considering having to file a complaint about First Amendment violations that have inhibited my role as a member of the fourth estate.

When the mayor first took office a year and a half ago, he held a "surprise" news conference with three other council members to announce a fifth member's appointment to council. This was not a vote, but since they knew they had the votes, they went ahead and announced it. They did not invite the two remaining council members, they did not one of our television stations, and they did not invite the public.

At the time, I was seriously concerned that this was a breach of the open meetings law because the four of them could constitute a quorum. However, no vote was actually taken, and the excluded TV station didn't plan to file a complaint, so I let it go.

It did not occur to me until this week, when I really started to re-examine some other things that have happened in recent weeks, that this press conference in late June or early July 2004, may actually have been the first of many violations of the open meetings rules, and a much bigger breach than I had first thought.

Strictly speaking, anyone can call a press conference and invite whoever they want to invite. BUT in Virginia, if the people who call the conference are elected officials, and IF what they discuss can be construed as official business... that's a meeting. You can't invite the press without the public to an open meeting, and you can't invite the public without the press. In other words, once you have what appears to be an official meeting, it has to be open to all, not just some. There has to be advance, written, printed notice of this type of meeting. (There wasn't.)

Add this to a few other infractions along the way (most notably, restrictions on public comment at two public meetings, one in November and again this week). The more I think about the big picture of all of this, the more concerned I am about the state of free speech, open government, and free press in our area.

Am I going to complain to the ACLU? The Jefferson Center? The open government coalition? I'm not sure.

On the one hand, I feel an obligation to do... something.

On the other hand, I feel an equal obligation not to get involved as doing so propels me from being an objective observer who can accurately report on the events into being more an active participant. Then I would feel compelled to "recuse" myself from any future reporting on the players involved... which would in effect mean I could not cover city council until more than half of it has been replaced. Not to mention what a complaint would do to my relationship with most of the city council members, with whom at this point I have been amicable and whom I consider good sources for story material.

So you see I have quite a quandary.

What I have done so far, is to report the truth, which is my first and foremost obligation. I did interview a representative from VCOG about some of this. I aired the concerns of one of the council members who was concerned over the limits on public comment. I also aired the "justification" for those limits from the council members in the majority position.

I see my job as more than a job. It's a calling. People who do what I do have a precious gift from the founders of our country: constitutional protection. No other job in the country can claim that. It's a beautiful freedom; it also comes with great responsibility. I would be lying if I said all reporters feel that way -- I know better. But I can't speak for them, I can only speak for me. I view all of these through the tinted lenses of what I view as my responsibility and calling as a journalist.

Will I do something? Probably. But what? When? And how?

In Other News...

2005-12-20T13:07:00.000-05:00

Brace yourself. Make sure you're sitting down. Double-check to ensure that you really are, in fact, sitting down, and it is not in a rocking chair or a chair with wheels.

Feet firmly planted? Chair legs on floor? Butt in chair?

OK, now check this out: the Bungles are bungling no more!

(It's about time! Long-suffering fans are finally able to cheer the team on with pride. And I can finally admit to you I grew up an hour south of Cincinnati without shame.)

'K then... off to get the orange and black clothes out of the attic.

Dingle Bells

2005-12-20T10:53:00.000-05:00

My son, Sam-the-Man, has learned to sing "Jingle Bells."

Only he doesn't say it right. It comes out like "Dingle Bells."

Really, that doesn't bother me - I think it's pretty cute. But the saturation point for the song has LOOOONG since been passed. I think if I have to sing along one more time, steam might actually come out of my ears. Or I might grow antlers. Or both.

So, as Sam says, Many Twismas to you!

Thought for the Day

2005-12-16T10:29:00.000-05:00

What haircolor do they put on the driver's license of a bald man?

Merry Chrismaholikwanzkkah, Part Two

2005-12-08T16:11:00.000-05:00

From my buddy, Ranger Tom:

Please accept with no obligation, implied or implicit, my best wishes for an environmentally conscious, socially responsible, low stress, non-addictive, gender neutral, celebration of the winter solstice holiday, practiced within the most enjoyable traditions of the religious persuasion of your choice, or secular practices of your choice, with respect for the religious/secular persuasions and/or traditions of others, or their choice not to practice religious or secular traditions at all... and a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling, and medically uncomplicated recognition of the onset of the generally accepted calendar year 2006, but not without due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures whose contributions to society have helped make America great, (not to imply that America is necessarily greater than any other country), and without regard to the race, creed, color, age, physical ability, religious faith, or sexual preference of the wishee.***

*** (By accepting this greeting, you are accepting these terms. This greeting is subject to clarification or withdrawal. It is freely transferable with no alteration to the original greeting. It implies no promise by the wisher to actually implement any of the wishes for her/himself or others, and is void where prohibited by law, and is revocable at the sole discretion of the wisher. This wish is warranted to perform as expected within the usual application of good tidings for a period of one year, or until the issuance of a subsequent holiday greeting, whichever comes first, and warranty is limited to replacement of this wish or issuance of a new wish at the sole discretion of the wisher.)

O Holiday Tree, O Holiday Tree...

2005-12-06T14:02:00.000-05:00

I hadn't made a big deal out of this yet here because it's been such a big deal at work... to make a long story short, my city actually has a "Holiday Tree Lighting" every year, not a Christmas Tree Lighting.

But ya know... sensitivity can go just so far. If there was such a thing as a Hannukkah tree or a Kwanzaa tree, I'd be all for going with "holiday tree," so as to be nice and generic.

But there's not. It *is* a Christmas tree. Let's move on, now. Besides... isn't this a little too far?

The Black Cloud

2005-12-05T13:58:00.000-05:00

You ever see a cartoon character with a black cloud over her head? That's me!

In the course of about a week and a half: the dishwasher quit working, the basement flooded, and the roof started leaking.

Today, I locked myself out of the house, I got a flat tire on the way to meet the dishwasher delivery crew, and the new dishwasher couldn't be hooked up because of some kind of needed connection we didn't have.

Now, my cell phone has a low battery and it's snowing. Any takers on whether I'm going to have some mishap on the way home, since I'm virtually guaranteed not to have a way to call for help?

Whatever I did, God... I'm sorry!

Hard At Work

2005-12-01T16:11:00.000-05:00

I'm not ignoring you... it's just been really busy at work. See?

(Yes, that's really me. Yes, I'm really on the air. Yes, the camera adds ten pounds.)

Counting My Blessings

2005-11-25T11:34:00.000-05:00

I'm thankful...

For the happiest kid ever, Sam-the-Man
For good health
For living indoors
For the smartest husband in the world
For gainful employment
For good friends and a loving church family
For the mountains and the blue skies
For a fenced-in back yard to keep the boy and the dog safe!
For chocolate
For my sister, my best friend of all
For my brother, who makes me laugh
For the nieces and nephews - Hannah, Erin, Jocelyn, Tucker and Robert
For a fuel-efficient car
For wildflowers that pop up in unexpected places
For indoor plumbing
For smiles from strangers
For music
For love
For electric lights and gas heat

Most of all... for Jesus, who loved me even when I wasn't lovable at all.

It's Snowing!

2005-11-23T17:32:00.000-05:00

I love snow. (And yes, I know what a dork I sound like. But I don't care. Nyah, nyah, nyah.)

Career Move

2005-11-19T22:13:00.000-05:00

I've had something sort of gnawing at the back of my mind, and I finally decided it's time to put it out there and let the chips fall where they may.

I am contemplating going back to school for my master's degree.

There are a few things keeping me from going ahead and signing up right now: 1) the money (DH is working on his master's so two of us doing it at the same time would be a burden), 2) our present location - no program in my field within a half-hour's drive, and 3) the possibility that I might want to branch out into something else.

Do I want to get a master's in education or communications and try to teach college? Do I want to get the master's in communications or journalism and stay put, hoping that it will eventually translate into a promotion locally? Do I want to chuck it all and try something completely different?

What's making that third option seem a little more attractive is, to be honest, Sam-the-Man. I work pretty long days, and I always have to work on holidays, not to mention the occasional weekend. Plus, even teachers make more money than journalists, believe it or not -- I actually picked a field that pays worse than education.

On the other hand, I really do like what I do, and the company I'm with now is spectacular. I know from having worked for Big Brother, at one locally-owned shop that was run by a serious tight-wad, and for public radio, that I have it really good where I am.

I suspect the answer is not going to come quickly, and I'm not sure I want it to. I'm going to be spending some time over the next weeks and months really thinking this over seriously, praying, thinking and praying some more, and maybe thinking or even praying about it.

Before and After

2005-11-17T17:24:00.000-05:00

Now I've officially heard it all. There is apparently a huge controversy brewing over the children's book, Goodnight Moon, a personal favorite of my son's, Sam-the-Man. Why?

Because the picture of the illustrator on the back, Clement Hurd, showed him holding a cigarette. So the powers-that-be decided they needed to PhotoShop it out.

Don't get me wrong, I think smoking is a nasty, abhorrent habit and people who smoke are just asking for an early death.

But. Can. We. Just. Get. Over. Our. Political. Correctness?!?!

I thought it was bad when Steven Spielberg saw fit to edit all the guns out of E.T. Now I can't decide which is worse. Can't we just leave well enough alone? Yes, there's a man smoking on the back. You know what, I am fully capable of telling my son smoking is evil. And trust me, that guy's not making it look too cool so I'm really not worried. OK?

Caution: Genius At Work

2005-11-15T14:45:00.000-05:00

Space: The Final Frontier

2005-11-15T08:43:00.000-05:00

Strong Bad has answered a new e-mail... check it out!

And, uh, while you're at it, live long and prosper.

The Laptop LIVES! It LIIIIIIIIIVES!

2005-11-14T17:28:00.000-05:00

OK, Frankenstein joking aside, I am back. Not even the Blue Screen of Death could keep me from my blog for long.

But let me back up. The laptop has been suffering from a severe bout of crashalotitis. I would be right in the middle of something important when the Blue Screen of Death would pop up, then the system would reboot itself without warning. (For those of you unfamiliar with the BSoD, there are actually two types of them... this kind is the more evil of the two.)

Turns out I had a spyware problem. Curse you, evil spyware! But now that I've upgraded my security system... it's all good and the BSoD is gone.

A Borrowed Thought for Veteran's Day

2005-11-11T15:26:00.000-05:00

IT IS THE SOLDIER...

It is the soldier, not the reporter,
Who has given us freedom of the press.

It is the soldier, not the poet,
Who has given us freedom of speech.

It is the soldier, not the campus organizer,
Who has given us the freedom to demonstrate.

It is the soldier, Who salutes the flag,
Who serves beneath the flag,
and whose coffin is draped by the flag,
Who allows the protester to burn the flag."

-Father Denis Edward O'Brien, USMC

Reunion Wrap-Up

2005-11-08T14:04:00.000-05:00

Just to re-cap:

I was *not* the fattest or ugliest girl there.

"Dressy casual" turned out to be date-night-wear -- I picked a pair of black slacks, put on heels instead of flats, and a pink blouse and considered myself ready to go. I was neither over- nor under-dressed.

Everyone loved my hair.

People I never expected to say two words to me in a million years actually hugged me.

The first boy I ever had a crush on is gay and managing a book store.

The first boy I ever danced with, oddly enough, has a nearly parallel career to mine.

My best friend, "Scarlett"* from days of yore didn't make it to the shin-dig. *not her real name*

Sam-the-Man was by far, the cutest offspring of the class.

Most important of all, I finally got closure on a relationship that ended horribly and was able to part on friendly terms with both the guy and his adorable wife, which was really nice.

Is It Just Me?

2005-11-06T22:12:00.000-05:00

...or when you see one of these word verification things, do you try to pronounce it in your head, too?

Dressy Casual?

2005-11-04T13:29:00.000-05:00

So I've got this 10-year High School reunion this weekend, and the attire is "dressy casual."

What the heck does that mean? The only thing I'm gathering from that for sure is that a prom dress would be too much.

I Must Be NUTS!

2005-11-02T08:41:00.000-05:00

Signed up for National Novel Writing Month. I am clearly out of my mind... but after the first 600 words, I'm still feeling good about the decision. Here's to the next 49,400!

No Wonder...

2005-10-31T12:44:00.000-05:00

...I'm the only one who can spell in my office. Apparently, everyone else suffers from typoglycemia:

"I cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd what I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid. Aoccdrnig to a rscheearch taem at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn’t mttaer in what oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Such a cdonition is arppoiately cllaed Typoglycemia."

What Kind Are You?

2005-10-28T17:21:00.000-04:00

You are a freeform writer. Individualistic with a
sense for the different and challenging, Walt
Whitman and his poetry lacking meter and rhyme
is just what the doctor ordered. You're quick
to write something that the rest of the world
doesn't accept as poetry, quick to separate
yourself from the average joe. An author with a
true sense of self, you have confidence in your
abilities and aren't afraid to show it. :) GO
YOU!

What's YOUR Writing Style?
brought to you by Quizilla

Twinkle, Twinkle

2005-10-28T17:05:00.000-04:00

Here's a question for you... which came first, the Star City, or its giant freakin' neon mountaintop star?

If you've never been to Roanoke (and what are the odds, really?), let me introduce you to the Star City's lone landmark: the Mill Mountain Star.

Now, the Star is pretty cool, don't get me wrong. You can drive up and get a pretty nice view of the city...

... so it's become a tradition. We have family or friends come in, we take them up to the Star. They oooh and ahh, then we go eat and go home. But it got me thinking. Is Roanoke the Star City because we have a giant neon star, or did we get a giant neon star in honor of our being the Star City?

Hmmmm.

Role Reversal

2005-10-27T17:29:00.000-04:00

It's official. I am the man of my house.

Was fighting over the thermostat with the hubby this week. He's too cold.

Isn't that backward? I'm the one telling him to add a layer. Meantime, he's burning me up and I'm wandering around the house in shorts and a t-shirt at night.

Then again... he works with mostly women and I work with mostly men... so maybe we've just got everything backwards at our house. I wonder what other stereotypes we buck...

No worries, though. I have no plans to wear boxer briefs.

This Is What We Call a Bad Idea!

2005-10-26T17:03:00.000-04:00

I love the Muppets as much as anyone else, and probably more. In fact, I own all but one of their movies.

But. Then. I. Saw. This.

70-some-odd Things You Didn't Know About Me

2005-10-25T17:19:00.000-04:00

1. I am a reporter/anchor for a news/talk radio station by day, and I do freelance copyediting and proofreading at night.

2. Most of my underwear is either purple or blue.

3. I love jazz, especially seriously old school stuff like Dizzy Gillespie or Duke Ellington.

4. I ate chocolate cake for lunch today.

5. I don't believe in wishing on stars.

6. I don't have a favorite color.

7. I especially love fall weather.

8. I can't call my sister unless I block out at least two hours or more for the conversation. :)

9. I am REAAAAALLLY afraid of scary movies.

0. My birthday is September 20.

11. I have a big weakness for General Foods International Coffees. (Jean Luc!)

12. I will never give up my love for my Kentucky Wildcats.

13. I colored my hair for the first time ever a month ago. Reddish highlights.

14. My eyes actually got better after I gave birth to my son - I was farsighted before and now I have 20/20 vision.

15. My dog sleeps on my bed.

16. I can't stand coconut anything.

17. My favorite food is peanut butter and jelly.

18. I went to see "Elizabethtown" this weekend, enjoyed myself immensely, and recognized a number of the places filmed as being either around the corner from one of my first apartments or down the street from it. And yes, I know what Ale8-1 is... and no, I don't drink it.

19. I am ashamed to admit I have recently become addicted to Desperate Housewives.

20. I yell when I am angry.

21. Sometimes I throw things.

22. I am horrible with things that grow. I could kill a plastic plant.

23. I am a hugger, not a hand-shaker.

24. If forced to make a choice, I'll pick raspberry over blueberry every time.

25. I have self-esteem problems.

26. I am a proud graduate of the Kentucky public schools. They're better than you think.

27. I can roller skate, but I don't understand football at all.

28. My dining room table doubles as an art studio and writing desk.

29. I cry at the drop of a hat... especially when it involves weddings, Christmas or happy endings. I cry every time I watch "It's a Wonderful Life."

30. I can't close my closet all the way because of all the junk on the floor of it.

31. I met my husband in junior high. (But no, I didn't date him then.)

32. I don't celebrate Halloween.

34. I love to sing.

35. The idea of losing my little boy in a crowd terrifies me silly.

36. The best hamburger in the whole world used to be at a place called Banana's on Richmond Road in Lexington, KY. Sadly... Banana's is no more. A moment of silence, if you will.

37. I drive a ten-year-old Chevy Cavalier.

38. I think poodles are mutants and an abomination against dogkind.

39. I have no less than ten keys, six key-cards and my work I.D. card on my key chain.

40. I got my first real radio job (not college radio) six months before I graduated.

41. I think Tuesdays rock, and I don't know why.

42. I went to four different elementary schools and two high schools.

43. My husband and I have spent Christmas in a different place every year of the seven that we've been married.

44. I don't like to sleep with my head under a window.

45. I get up at 6:45 every day.

46. Given the choice, I'd pick pearls over diamonds.

47. I am addicted to Law and Order: SVU.

48. I think reality shows are contrived and dull.

49. I usually don't eat breakfast.

50. My middle name is Rose.

51. I am a huge closet Lisa Loeb fan.

52. I am the baby sister.

53. I don't like sour cream potato chips at all.

54. I love the Mary Tyler Moore show. Thank you, TV Land!

55. The turkey reuben at Macado's is to-die-for.

56. I detest snobbiness.

57. I also detest low-riders.

58. I hope one day to visit Scotland.

59. I originally majored in music and attended the University of Kentucky on a piano scholarship for two years before changing my major.

60. I don't like to be too hot.

61. I think I'd like to retire to the mountains. I'm already here, so I know how pretty it is.

62. My favorite time of day is before my son wakes up!

63. I have a sister, a brother, two step-sisters and one step-brother.

64. My son is a miracle baby - I wasn't supposed to be able to have him.

65. I prefer RC Cola, generally, though it's hard to come by anymore.

66. My feet are really small.

67. I was born blonde. (I am decidedly NOT blonde now.)

68. I briefly lived in Winston-Salem, North Carolina as a child.

69. My earliest memory is my third birthday party.

70. My worst habit is probably that I eat chocolate rather than cope with stress.

71. My best childhood memory is riding a toboggan with my older brother down a snow-covered slope behind our old house.

72. The crappiest job I have ever held was working as a Kroger deli clerk.

73. I play six musical instruments - seven if you count the guitar I got for Christmas. But you probably shouldn't!

74. My dad used to call me "Boodles."

75. I have pierced ears.

76. My eyes are hazel.

77. When I was young, I wanted to BE my sister when I grew up.

78. I once spent a whopping two hours in Canada.

79. I flunked my driver's test the first time.

If I Ever Throw My Dog a Party...

2005-10-20T15:33:00.000-04:00

...beat me senseless... or else beat some sense into me, OK?

Of course, when you see the picture of the dog who got the Bark Mitzvah, it sort of makes sense. Thank God I've got a beagle.

Didn't See That Coming

2005-10-17T14:23:00.000-04:00

If you'd asked me to predict which movie I am most like, I probably would have said "It's a Wonderful Life" or "The Muppet Movie." But whatever... the test was fun, so go check it out.

What Classic Movie Are You?
personality tests by similarminds.com

Feeling Sheepish

2005-10-17T10:31:00.000-04:00

It's almost time for animal sitting for the church's live nativity. Sheep provided a real object lesson about how God thinks about people the last time we had to watch the animals.

In case you didn't know, sheep are incredibly dumb.

Two years ago, DH and I had to untangle them (let's not get into why in the world someone thought staking and leashing the poor things was a good idea - that's another issue) -- they had gotten wrapped around each other and the stakes so well that they couldn't move. Took us an hour to get them undone, because they didn't want to let us help them.

Fifteen minutes later, we did our rounds to check on all the animals, and sure enough... sheep were tangled.

Just think... we're His flock. Humbling, ain't it?

La la, la la la la... KABOOM!

2005-10-12T11:54:00.000-04:00

You have to see this to believe it. The Smurfs are making a comeback... in an ad campaign against child warriors in Burundi!

That Poor Sheep

2005-10-10T15:17:00.000-04:00

I cringe every time I think about this. I have a coworker who, twice in the last week, has written a story about a prison inmate "on the lamb."

As opposed to... on the calf?

Geez.

I Have a New Hobby

2005-10-06T13:57:00.000-04:00

Not that I really have spare time, but...

I have taken up sewing.

Do you know how wrong that looks on my computer screen? I am Betty Crocker's nemesis. Martha Stewart yells, "It's not a good thing!" when she sees me coming. I have no idea what the difference between braise, broil or burn is. (Just ask my family!)

But I decided to remedy my lack of domestic knowledge after my mom died last summer. Mom always promised to teach me to sew, but between us we kept putting it off and I never learned. One of the things I inherited was her sewing machine, and now I have learned how to use it. I'm far from good - in fact, I'm rather bad, but I enjoy it immensely and I did manage to make a rather crude train-patterned blanket for my engineer - oops, I mean, my son, Sam-the-Man.

Who knows? Maybe I'll even learn to cook next.

No Seven Year Itch Here

2005-10-03T12:22:00.000-04:00

Happy anniversary, hon. Here's to 77 more!

Tony and Becky
10-2-98

Only in the South

2005-09-28T16:57:00.000-04:00

Quite possibly the strangest thing to ever happen to me... happened to me today.

Had to drive to the big city for a story (actually, a feature on gas price gouging). On the way back to the NewsMobile, the security guard has me sign out, thanks me for visiting, and...

And...

...and offers me a bite of his fried shrimp.

No, I say, that's all right, I don't want to take your lunch. I don't say that I don't like shrimp and that I've been fighting a stomach bug which makes fried food especially abhorrent at the moment. The nice little man with the badge doesn't need to know that.

Then he insists. No really, take one!

No thanks, I say.

No... really, he says, getting pushy now, take one.

To make a long story short, I took his shrimp. But I didn't eat it. (It is currently in a grassy median somewhere between my town and our state capitol along interstate 64.)

Over the Hill and Gaining Speed

2005-09-25T21:35:00.000-04:00

We don't need to get into exactly how old or young I am, but my annual brush with my own mortality came and went this past week. And boy do I feel old.

I have two new part-time reporters working with me, both under the age of 23, which is a daily reminder of my mortality and lack of youth in itself. But.

I said something about Pat Benatar to one, and she said, "Who's he?"

I might as well retire now. Pushing 30 is evidently akin to pushing 80... to someone who's only just turned 21.

Now This Is More Like It

2005-09-23T12:03:00.000-04:00

Tony Campolo got it right.

Too Smart!

2005-09-23T11:19:00.000-04:00

What I am about to reveal does NOT leave this page.

My boy, the toddler, Sam-the-Man... has already outsmarted his mother.

Sam spotted something he shouldn't have on the table last night. Oh, he wanted it so bad... the shiny CD that Mommy and Daddy didn't think he should have. "No, Sam," I told him, over and over, patiently pushing his fat little fingers away and explaining that if he touched the disc it wouldn't play anymore.

"Mama, look!" he exclaimed, pointing behind me.

I looked.

And Sam picked up the CD.

*sigh*

He's not even three yet. What the heck am I going to do with this kid when he's 15?

Yes, I Am a Christian...

2005-09-22T21:36:00.000-04:00

...and no, these people do NOT represent my views.

Just to set the record straight: Do I believe God will one day judge the earth? Yes. Do I believe God sent the hurricane to destroy New Orleans as punishment? No.

Please tell me these people aren't making the rest of us look like wackos.

Job Satisfaction Day

2005-09-20T15:01:00.000-04:00

Hate your job? Here are a few reasons to choke back the complaints and be grateful for gainful employment:

1) You're not a grave digger.
2) You don't clean teeth.
3) You don't muck out stalls.
4) You don't get crank calls at work from Pagan Man. (Don't ask. I'm sure if you can imagine what crank calls to radio stations are like, that's description enough.)
5) You're not this guy:

Southwestern Virginia: The Cat's Meow?

2005-09-19T15:49:00.000-04:00

A feral freakin' cat task force.

I am not making this up. My local government has commissioned a feral cat *task force*.

They can't do anything about the gangs (What gangs?). They can't do anything about the drugs (What drugs?).

A feral cat task force.

Apparently the wild kitties have been picking up AK-47's and terrorizing the neighborhood kids, getting them to sell crack for them. I must have missed that part.

Never mind the creepy man I've called police on at least twice who is always hanging out at the park down the street, making me feel extremely uncomfortable taking my son there. Never mind the exploding abuse of street drugs and manufacture of methamphetamines in the mountains. We have to spend our money on stray cats.

Good grief.

You Have to Do This

2005-09-16T12:58:00.000-04:00

Go check out the new "Cheat Commandos" short on Homestar Runner. I laughed until I nearly fell off my chair.

Ode to Duct Tape

2005-09-12T21:36:00.000-04:00

Oh, Duct Tape. How I love you. You are strong, versatile... sure, a little sticky. But still, who could begrudge you a little stickiness when you accomplish so much?

I saw a picture this week of the Discovery crew and the wall of gadgets and gizmos and buttons behind them. Amidst all that was something oddly familiar... a little shiny... was that?... it IS! It's duct tape! I wish I could find the picture to show you, but it proves what I've known for years:

"Duct tape is like the force: It has a dark side and a light side and it holds the universe together." - Carl Zwanzig

It Would Almost Be Funny...

2005-09-08T13:31:00.000-04:00

Now That Was Just Uncalled For

2005-09-01T21:33:00.000-04:00

I had to go delete a comment from someone just now.

You try and do something nice in the world like post a link to a reputable, good cause... and spammers come along and post obscene comments on the freakin' blog! Way to nullify the good deed and cheapen the whole effect, evil-spammer-person.

To keep that from happening again, I've changed the settings so people who make comments on my blog have to sign in and do a word verification. I hate having to do that, but... since I don't particularly care to have my blog associated with obscene spamming, that's just the way it'll have to be.

Dang it.

Help Hurricane Victims

2005-09-01T17:58:00.000-04:00

Check out one of my station's sister-stations, K-92, for a unique way to help the people left homeless by Hurricane Katrina.

Doctor Toenails; Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Tantrum

2005-08-24T08:51:00.000-04:00

"You can’t fight in here, this is the War Room!" – President Merkin Muffley (Peter Sellers)

Do you know how impossible it is to get a 2.575 year old to sit still so you can trim his finger- and toenails?

Freakin' impossible.

You might as well join Peter Sellers and the gang in Kubrick's classic Dr. Strangelove in trying to prevent nuclear holocaust as get Sam the Man to let you come near him with the clippers.

Fine. It's not worth my time. Let his fingernails get black with icky dirt. Let his toenails get long enough that his shoes don't fit. I give up.

Next time, it's Daddy's turn to deal with it! I'll be out mowing the yard.

Is There a Dog?

2005-08-15T22:06:00.000-04:00

If you've never heard of the dyslexic atheist insomniac, the title of this update won't have any meaning for you. Think about it... but don't think too hard.

Life is never dull at my house.

I told DH when we first installed the doggy door there was a real possibility critters might come in. No problem, he said... the door he installed has a cover that you can put on it when you want it to be closed. We'll close it at night.

No sooner had he installed the doggy door than the toddler figured out he could get through the doggy door. "Outside!" he yells triumphantly from the other side, his little bottom and legs the only part visible from the computer desk.

The novelty of the door has finally worn off for the boy, but apparently not for the neighbor's dog. Tonight, we came home and discovered not one, but TWO dogs in our house. The beagle was ours, but the large golden thing that was drooling and had obviously torn our house up was not.

The dog, Houdini (name changed to protect my anonymity in the neighborhood), is an escape artist. He figured out how to get out of the neighbor's yard a long time ago. Now, he can not only jump OUT of their yard, but he can also jump INTO ours... and find his way down the back steps and into the doggy door, where he and Charlie are best buddies and they lick and sniff themselves silly.

And then Houdini, probably because he's really just a big puppy, found his way to Charlie's food, ate the heck out of it, pooped on our floor, knocked things over, and so on and so forth, until we discovered the whole blasted mess.

If the neighbors can't keep Houdini in their yard now, I hate to see what happens when the thing's finished growing. Some people should have to fill out a questionnaire before they take a dog home. Answer vital questions like, "Will you have enough room for this dog to stretch his legs?" and "How will you keep this dog from annoying the crap out of your neighbors?" and "Are you actually smarter than the dog?"

Which reminds me of my grandfather's advice about dog training. The first thing is, he said, you have to be smarter than the dog.

Nuff said.

Before and After

2005-08-11T22:03:00.000-04:00

How is this even the same person?!

Highly Recommend...

2005-08-11T21:43:00.000-04:00

...if you aren't familiar with it yet, this website.

Click on "come on in," then the little circle that asks, "First time here?" to get initiated. Then surf around. I like Strong Bad's E-mails the best. But there are plenty of pretty funny little shorts (Like the Cheat Commando's O's -- Ridiculous Breakfast) in the Toons section, too.

Enjoy!

EDIT: My personal favorite Strong Bad E-mail, of course: http://www.homestarrunner.com/sbemail120.html

The End of an Era

2005-08-08T15:51:00.000-04:00

As a reporter myself, I can't let the passing of Peter Jennings go without comment.

The man was an inspiration to people like me, proof that you didn't have to know someone or have big bucks to hit the big time. What you have to have is guts and determination, and a talent for storytelling.

As recently as this past year, I was referring would-be reporters who interned under me to Jennings' newscasts as the best of the "big three" in terms of delivery style. The man typed with two fingers and was a high school drop out, but it didn't matter. He was smart and articulate and good on his feet.

It's a sad testament against smoking... but a good chance to point to one of the last great men in the golden era of broadcasting. There will never be anyone else like him, and for that, I am sad. The McNews that passes for content is just not the same.

Who Invited the Griswolds?

2005-08-05T08:30:00.000-04:00

The last time DH and I were in D.C., we were getting ready to get on a Metro train to go somewhere (can't remember exactly where we were headed) and up comes this gaggle of middle school kids.

Great, I remember thinking. This ought to be a fun ride. Not.

The kids had no idea what they were doing and otherwise made nuisances of themselves, all a hundred or so of them. We finally got on the train, DH and I boarding last, just in time to hear the driver mutter under his breath, "Looks like we got a whole d--- train of Griswolds."

It became a catch-phrase for the hubby and I, whenever we were away from home witnessing stupidity and rudeness and so on firsthand.

This week on the beach, our hotel apparently had been headquarters for the Griswold reunion and we didn't know it ahead of time. Still had a great time... you either have to laugh or get frustrated. We chose to laugh.

I Can't Make This Stuff Up!

2005-07-27T08:29:00.000-04:00

Paging Doctor Freud! Paging Doctor Freud!

2005-07-26T12:57:00.000-04:00

I didn't have a midnight snack... so I really can't blame this one on food.

Woke myself up by yelling, "Becky! Wake up!"

Why was I yelling at myself like Alice in Wonderland?

I was dreaming about alien abductions, of all things.

In the dream, I was at the beach, browsing through a fabric/arts and crafts store for curtains material (why I would be doing that on my vacation, I don't know) when I bumped into Julia Roberts. Then I spied I lady from church, and we started browsing fabrics together. We got to the door of the store and looked up to see kind of a greenish glow and the outline of *something*, probably an airplane, just made scarier or obscured by the clouds in the night sky.

No sooner had we made a joke about our UFO than the thing flipped, showed itself to be completely unlike any human-made aircraft, and landed on the beach.

Then it started shooting green beams of light out, with which it snatched up groups of people. At first it missed the church lady and I, but on about the third beam, we were sucked in.

I found myself standing in front of a large square of metal, in a metal room -- not unlike the inside of a bank vault. On the square in front of me were two lines of text and two levers. The first lever moved, and the text of the top line spun until it read, "Keep" (I think it had at first said "Return," then "Trash"). Then the second lever moved, and the bottom line spun. "Operate" was passed up in favor of something else - I can't remember what - and finally it came to rest on "Kickboxing."

At this point, I decided I needed to wake up, because the vault door was about to open and I didn't want to see what a kickboxing alien looked like.

Now, I ask you... why the heck did this scare the crap out of me? I don't know... but I do know I'm not listening to any more George Norry anytime soon. I obviously don't need any help coming up with weird stuff for my dreams!

It's So Hot...

2005-07-25T14:20:00.000-04:00

...the birds have to use potholders to pull the worms out of the ground.

...the chickens are laying hard-boiled eggs.

...cows are giving evaporated milk.

...you can make instant sun tea.

...hot water now comes out of both taps.

...you realize that asphalt has a liquid state.

...I saw a dog chasing a cat and they were both walking.

...trees are creeping around looking for shade.

...when and if it does rain, you can see the steam rising up off the pavement.

...the state bird is now fried chicken.

No Slave to Fashion Here

2005-07-22T17:54:00.000-04:00

Can I be a hundred percent honest?

I despise flip-flops. I don't just dislike them. I don't merely hate them. I despise them.

Ditto for the low riding pants, belly button rings, crop tops, and tank tops. And don't even get me started on the whole "wear a tank top with spaghetti straps and it's okay to let your fuzzy, icky-looking bra strap show" thing.

Have we lost our minds?

Don't get me wrong, I'm not advocating chastity belts. (By the way, don't google that. It's not pretty.) But I do miss the days of the plain old t-shirts, jeans and sneakers look. Leisure time has become increasingly uncomfortable for me. I feel overdressed.

I know I'm not the only one.

I Am Really Blessed

2005-07-19T17:58:00.000-04:00

Got home last night to be greeted by cheers and applause and barking and other signs that a small boy and his dog missed me much during the day.

We should all be so missed by someone during the day, eh?

Nice to feel needed.

Look what a lazy bum my dog is...

2005-07-15T14:10:00.000-04:00

Not only is my dog completely spoiled rotten and given to cow-like grunting noises... he's also a wimp when it comes to the A/C. Nobody covered Charlie up... he actually buried himself under the pillows on the couch to get warm. Good grief.

You Can't Keep a Good Toddler Down (For Long)

2005-07-14T13:07:00.000-04:00

I've seen my boy chasing a robot with his cousins while suffering with undiagnosed pneumonia... running circles around Mommy and Daddy with an ear infection... jumping off the back of the couch (fortunately onto the seat rather than the floor) with a bad cold... but I know now what it takes to make him sit still.

103 degrees.

Sam's only had a fever that high twice now - once when he was just under a year old, during a bout with a stomach bug that landed him in the doctor's office with an IV to rehydrate him. The second time was yesterday.

You know something's wrong with a small boy when he climbs up into your lap and stays there. "Hold, Mama," he told me, in the most pitiful voice. He was burning up. So of course I held him for what seemed like ages, and complied with all of his demands - things like "E-I-0, Mama" (translation = Mother Dearest, please sing Old MacDonald Had a Farm") and "Mo malk, Mama" (translation = "I would really appreciate another cup of milk").

This morning, he was up and at 'em before the sun, and back to his usual bouncy self. I was awakened to him jumping up and down more or less on top of the dog, which you can imagine my bovine little Beagle didn't appreciate. "Mooooo," said Charlie. So I separated the boy and the canine, and life is back to normal.

Nothing more pitiful than a toddler that doesn't feel like pestering the dog, even. So in that sense, it was kind of good to see him recover so quick. Unfortunately, I'm not recovered yet! Too bad I can't climb on someone's lap and demand they wait on me hand and foot, eh?

Why Ask Why?

2005-07-11T17:00:00.000-04:00

A welcome reminder today in the most unlikely of places.

Attended the funeral of a friend's baby. I expected it to be pretty depressing for the obvious reasons. But my pastor offered hope in a place I didn't expect to find it. He reminded me that comfort doesn't come in knowing the answer to the question, "Why?"

It comes in trusting that the One who made us all knows best.

I don't believe that baloney about God never giving us more than we can bear or that all things happen for a reason. They're cold comfort at a time like this. But it helps to remember that even in pain, even in heartache and hardship, God holds us close to his own heart.

What a great place to rest.

I'm Like a One-Legged Fella...

2005-07-06T12:20:00.000-04:00

...in a butt-kicking contest! Things are really hopping around here today! Got to remember to slow down and take a deep breath and a moment for myself now and then.

Sam's no help. But of course, he's two. All the child-rearing folks tell you it's good to give toddlers choices (as long as you limit them - you can't take a little guy to a candy store and ask "What do you want?" He'll want it all. But you can say, "Would you like the blue or the red lollipop?") Sam's latest thing is to make a liar out of Dr. Sears. How? Lemme give you a for-instance:

Me: Sam, are you hungry?

Sam: Hungy! Hungy!

Me: Would you like oatmeal or toast for breakfast?

Sam: Toast!

(Mommy puts the bread in the toaster.)

Sam: Oat-meal!

Me: Sam, do you want oatmeal?

Sam: Oat-meal!

(Mommy takes bread out of toaster and starts making oatmeal.)

Sam: No, Mama. Toast!

Ditto for the milk vs. juice debate... the "Nemo" shoes vs. sneakers debacle... and the jeans vs. khakis dilemma. As soon as he tells me what he wants, and I get it half-way done... he decides he wants the opposite.

Can you believe this? Not even quite two-and-a-half and the kid is already mastering mind games!

Let the Sun Shine!

2005-07-04T17:16:00.000-04:00

Leeeeeeet the sun shiiine!

Leeeeeeet the sun shine in - the su-uuun shine iiiiiin!

Everybody now!

Can I just say how refreshing it is not to be living like a vampire anymore? My son didn't get up until 7:30 a.m. or a little after this morning, so even though I woke up before my alarm did at 6:50, I still had not only QUIET time before he got up... I also had DAYLIGHT greeting me! I don't have to get up at the butt-crack of dawn anymore! It's not dark and early when I get up anymore!

Let the sun shine in, my friend!

Oh, yeah. Happy fourth! Hug a veteran and remember what was sacrificed so you could have the freedom to work and play and worship the way you think is right. Most of the men who signed the Declaration of Independence lost both their property and their lives for the cause of liberty. Would you do the same?

Cabin Fever

2005-06-30T07:59:00.000-04:00

I am so ready for a vacation.

I can't wait to take a few days and have no plans or hurries or worries or phone calls or scanner traffic or keyboards or pagers beeping or faxes printing or newscasts or... you get the idea.

True, I can't exactly escape (nor would I want to) my little boy. But the rest of it? I'm ready to leave it all behind and re-charge my duracells.

Sometimes, I just have to see the ocean. I know that sounds nutty, but let me explain. I do not believe in past lives... but had I lived a century or more ago, and been a man... I think I might have been a sailor. The sea actually calls to me. I just itch to feel its spray on my face and smell the salty fragrance of unhatched dreams, imagine the possibilities on the distant shores and think about where the wind may take me.

As a child, I discovered this poem that sums up exactly what I mean:

Sea-Fever
by John Masefield

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face and a grey dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.

Bring on the Nap, Please!

2005-06-29T08:05:00.000-04:00

Two full months after agreeing to do mornings, I am now officially suffering from chronic sleep deprivation. I don't make any sense... I start dreaming the second I fall asleep... and I have a hard time staying awake and with it during the day.

It's a lot like boot camp. I'm falling asleep standing up... at my desk.

Three more days. If I can just make it three more days... I get to go back to day shift!

It Was Inevitable

2005-06-27T08:30:00.000-04:00

Got to see my grandmother this weekend. I have two grandparents still living (out of a total, actually, of six - I had two step-grandparents who have now passed on). The two who are left - my dad's mother and my mom's father - have both been healthy as long as I could remember. It seems nothing could possibly knock them down, not diabetes ("Mother," as we call her, fights the blood sugar disorder), not colon or prostate cancer (Granddaddy), not hard times or the divorces of their children or the destruction of the houses they grew up in by fire or even outliving a total of five children between them.

Until now. I think I had written before about my grandfather's failing health. The prostate cancer he fought well - but it left him with a suppressed immune system, and he wound up with a staph infection that sapped his energy, depleted his will to fight and brought to the surface what had long been hidden - a probable case of Alzheimer's.

Mother has been fighting Alzheimer's for a few years now, and her deterioration has been much slower than I would have expected. She was merely forgetful at first, then forgetful and suspicious (common in early Alzheimer's), then forgetful, suspicious and prone to do things out of order or in an odd way (for example, boiling eggs without any water or trying to prune a tree in the middle winter, using kitchen scissors).

Through it all, though, she's never confused me for anyone else, even on the phone - when it must be more difficult to keep things straight.

Until this visit. She did pretty good, but toward the end of my visit, turned to my dad and asked, "How's little Becky?"

Dad said, "Why don't you ask her yourself?"

She instantly realized her mistake, confessing to me with a giggle, "I thought you were your mother." It's true as I've gotten older I've resembled my mother more and more - as a kid, I was nothing like her and everything like my dad. But after two hours of my having been there, she not only forgot I was there, she mixed me up.

I have to wonder how much longer she will do this sort of slow-motion free-fall. It would almost be easier to watch if it was quicker... if it wasn't so much like pouring molasses from a bowl into a bottle.

I take comfort in knowing she is still reasonably lucid, and knows me most of the time. And I'm glad I went to see her... because I fear it won't be long before she really won't know me at all. That is the day I dread most.