Every time I'm home -- that is, back in Michigan -- I can't help but think it's a conspiracy.
You see, the roads here suck. There's no other word for it, although there's a slew of adjectives you could put in front of it. They just plain suck: Cement, not black top; full of potholes that look like they were left by dinosaur-extincting meteors. They're worse in the winter, but they're bad all year round.
My theory is, the roads are like this on purpose. It's the Michigan politicians' way of keeping the auto industry in business by ensuring a consistent, continuous need for vehicle parts and repairs, if not entire new cars altogether. Forget the hubcaps or shredded rubber you see on the side of most major highways.
Yesterday, during a trip up I-75 North and I-96 West, I passed not one, but two front ends. Not a piece of body -- the entire front end, like the ones that pop on and off my son's Megablocks r/c racer.
It seems like every other building you pass out here has a sign that reads Ford, GM, Daimler. It's a testament to exactly how important the auto industry is to MI. Absolutely everything is tied to it. Even the potholes.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Pondering the bailout
I've started posts about the auto industry bailout a couple of times, but my thoughts were always incomplete. You know, with Detroit roots, but Yankee sensibilities, I'm still undecided on the issue.
I know that the people who are against it are right about one thing regarding the Detroit Automakers: they need a legitimate, new 21st Century business plan. And there's nothing wrong with Congress asking for that. From the dawn of time, or at least the dawn of horseless carriage time, GM, Ford and Chrysler have resisted change (back in the day it was seat belts and windshield wipers) because they could make more money by doing the same old, same old.
I know that when I take my Escape to the dealer on Wednesday, my oil change will be $54.95 plus tax; when Midas can do it for $19.99. Too bad the twerp at Midas makes it condescendingly clear that he doesn't think girls understand gears.
I also know that, having grown up in Detroit, my conscience won't let me buy Honda or Toyota and I still love my cars.
And finally, I know that this Letter to the Editor by a Ford dealer in PA makes some terrific points in a very direct and eloquent way. He definitely gives you something to think about.
By Jim Jackson, Elkins Ford, PA
Editor: As I watch the coverage of the fate of the U.S. auto industry, one alarming and frustrating fact hits me right between the eyes. The fate of our nation's economic survival is in the hands of some congressmen who are completely out of touch and act without knowledge of an industry that affects almost every person in our nation. The same lack of knowledge is shared with many journalists whom are irresponsible when influencing the opinion of millions of viewers.
Sen. Richard Shelby of Alabama has doomed the industry, calling it a dinosaur. No Mr. Shelby, you are the dinosaur, with ideas stuck in the '70s, '80s and '90s. You and the uninformed journalist and senators that hold onto myths that are not relevant in today's world.
When you say that the Big Three build vehicles nobody wants to buy, you must have overlooked that GM outsold Toyota by about 1.2 million vehicles in the U.S. and Ford outsold Honda by 850,000 and Nissan by 1.2 million in the U.S. GM was the world's No. 1 automaker beating Toyota by 3,000 units.
When you claim inferior quality comes from the Big Three, did you realize that Chevy makes the Malibu and Ford makes the Fusion that were both rated over the Camry and Accord by J.D. Power independent survey on initial quality? Did you bother to read the Consumer Report that rated Ford on par with good Japanese automakers.
Did you realize Big Three's gas guzzlers include the 33 mpg Malibu that beats the Accord. And for '09 Ford introduces the Hybrid Fusion whose 39 mpg is the best midsize, beating the Camry Hybrid. Ford's Focus beats the Corolla and Chevy's Cobalt beats the Civic.
When you ask how many times are we going to bail them out you must be referring to 1980. The only Big Three bailout was Chrysler, who paid back $1 billion, plus interest. GM and Ford have never received government aid.
When you criticize the Big Three for building so many pickups, surely you've noticed the attempts Toyota and Nissan have made spending billions to try to get a piece of that pie. Perhaps it bothers you that for 31 straight years Ford's F-Series has been the best selling vehicle. Ford and GM have dominated this market and when you see the new '09 F-150 you'll agree this won't change soon.
Did you realize that both GM and Ford offer more hybrid models than Nissan or Honda. Between 2005 and 2007, Ford alone has invested more than $22 billion in research and development of technologies such as Eco Boost, flex fuel, clean diesel, hybrids, plug in hybrids and hydrogen cars.
It's 2008 and the quality of the vehicles coming out of Detroit are once again the best in the world.
Perhaps Sen. Shelby isn't really that blind. Maybe he realizes the quality shift to American. Maybe it's the fact that his state of Alabama has given so much to land factories from Honda, Hyundai and Mercedes Benz that he is more concerned about their continued growth than he is about the people of our country. Sen. Shelby's disdain for "government subsidies" is very hypocritical. In the early '90s he was the driving force behind a $253 million incentive package to Mercedes. Plus, Alabama agreed to purchase 2,500 vehicles from Mercedes. While the bridge loan the Big Three is requesting will be paid back, Alabama's $180,000-plus per job was pure incentive. Sen. Shelby, not only are you out of touch, you are a self-serving hypocrite, who is prepared to ruin our nation because of lack of knowledge and lack of due diligence in making your opinions and decisions.
After 9/11, the Detroit Three and Harley Davidson gave $40 million-plus emergency vehicles to the recovery efforts. What was given to the 9/11 relief effort by the Asian and European Auto Manufactures? $0 Nada. Zip!
We live in a world of free trade, world economy and we have not been able to produce products as cost efficiently. While the governments of other auto producing nations subsidize their automakers, our government may be ready to force its demise. While our automakers have paid union wages, benefits and legacy debt, our Asian competitors employ cheap labor. We are at an extreme disadvantage in production cost. Although many UAW concessions begin in 2010, many lawmakers think it's not enough.
Some point the blame to corporate management. I would like to speak of Ford Motor Co. The company has streamlined by reducing our workforce by 51,000 since 2005, closing 17 plants and cutting expenses. Product and future product is excellent and the company is focused on one Ford. This is a company poised for success. Ford product quality and corporate management have improved light years since the nightmare of Jacques Nasser. Thank you Alan Mulally and the best auto company management team in the business.
The financial collapse caused by the secondary mortgage fiasco and the greed of Wall Street has led to a $700 billion bailout of the industry that created the problem. AIG spent nearly $1 million on three company excursions to lavish resorts and hunting destinations. Paulson is saying no to $250 billion foreclosure relief and the whole thing is a mess. So when the Big Three ask for 4 percent of that of the $700 billion, $25 billion to save the country's largest industry, there is obviously oppositions. But does it make sense to reward the culprits of the problem with $700 billion unconditionally, and ignore the victims?
As a Ford dealer, I feel our portion of the $25 billion will never be touched and is not necessary. Ford currently has $29 billion of liquidity. However, the effect of a bankruptcy by GM will hurt the suppliers we all do business with. A Chapter 11 bankruptcy by any manufacture would cost retirees their health care and retirements. Chances are GM would recover from Chapter 11 with a better business plan with much less expense. So who foots the bill if GM or all three go Chapter 11? All that extra health care, unemployment, loss of tax base and some forgiven debt goes back to the taxpayer, us. With no chance of repayment, this would be much worse than a loan with the intent of repayment.
So while it is debatable whether a loan or Chapter 11 is better for the Big Three, a $25 billion loan is definitely better for the taxpayers and the economy of our country.
So I'll end where I began on the quality of the products of Detroit. Before you, Mr. or Ms. Journalist continue to misinform the American public and turn them against one of the great industries that helped build this nation, I must ask you one question. Before you, Mr. or Madam Congressman vote to end health care and retirement benefits for 1 million retirees, eliminate 2.5 million of our nation's jobs, lose the technology that will lead us in the future and create an economic disaster including hundreds of billions of tax dollars lost, I ask this question not in the rhetorical sense. I ask it in the sincere, literal way. Can you tell me, have you driven a Ford lately?
I know that the people who are against it are right about one thing regarding the Detroit Automakers: they need a legitimate, new 21st Century business plan. And there's nothing wrong with Congress asking for that. From the dawn of time, or at least the dawn of horseless carriage time, GM, Ford and Chrysler have resisted change (back in the day it was seat belts and windshield wipers) because they could make more money by doing the same old, same old.
I know that when I take my Escape to the dealer on Wednesday, my oil change will be $54.95 plus tax; when Midas can do it for $19.99. Too bad the twerp at Midas makes it condescendingly clear that he doesn't think girls understand gears.
I also know that, having grown up in Detroit, my conscience won't let me buy Honda or Toyota and I still love my cars.
And finally, I know that this Letter to the Editor by a Ford dealer in PA makes some terrific points in a very direct and eloquent way. He definitely gives you something to think about.
By Jim Jackson, Elkins Ford, PA
Editor: As I watch the coverage of the fate of the U.S. auto industry, one alarming and frustrating fact hits me right between the eyes. The fate of our nation's economic survival is in the hands of some congressmen who are completely out of touch and act without knowledge of an industry that affects almost every person in our nation. The same lack of knowledge is shared with many journalists whom are irresponsible when influencing the opinion of millions of viewers.
Sen. Richard Shelby of Alabama has doomed the industry, calling it a dinosaur. No Mr. Shelby, you are the dinosaur, with ideas stuck in the '70s, '80s and '90s. You and the uninformed journalist and senators that hold onto myths that are not relevant in today's world.
When you say that the Big Three build vehicles nobody wants to buy, you must have overlooked that GM outsold Toyota by about 1.2 million vehicles in the U.S. and Ford outsold Honda by 850,000 and Nissan by 1.2 million in the U.S. GM was the world's No. 1 automaker beating Toyota by 3,000 units.
When you claim inferior quality comes from the Big Three, did you realize that Chevy makes the Malibu and Ford makes the Fusion that were both rated over the Camry and Accord by J.D. Power independent survey on initial quality? Did you bother to read the Consumer Report that rated Ford on par with good Japanese automakers.
Did you realize Big Three's gas guzzlers include the 33 mpg Malibu that beats the Accord. And for '09 Ford introduces the Hybrid Fusion whose 39 mpg is the best midsize, beating the Camry Hybrid. Ford's Focus beats the Corolla and Chevy's Cobalt beats the Civic.
When you ask how many times are we going to bail them out you must be referring to 1980. The only Big Three bailout was Chrysler, who paid back $1 billion, plus interest. GM and Ford have never received government aid.
When you criticize the Big Three for building so many pickups, surely you've noticed the attempts Toyota and Nissan have made spending billions to try to get a piece of that pie. Perhaps it bothers you that for 31 straight years Ford's F-Series has been the best selling vehicle. Ford and GM have dominated this market and when you see the new '09 F-150 you'll agree this won't change soon.
Did you realize that both GM and Ford offer more hybrid models than Nissan or Honda. Between 2005 and 2007, Ford alone has invested more than $22 billion in research and development of technologies such as Eco Boost, flex fuel, clean diesel, hybrids, plug in hybrids and hydrogen cars.
It's 2008 and the quality of the vehicles coming out of Detroit are once again the best in the world.
Perhaps Sen. Shelby isn't really that blind. Maybe he realizes the quality shift to American. Maybe it's the fact that his state of Alabama has given so much to land factories from Honda, Hyundai and Mercedes Benz that he is more concerned about their continued growth than he is about the people of our country. Sen. Shelby's disdain for "government subsidies" is very hypocritical. In the early '90s he was the driving force behind a $253 million incentive package to Mercedes. Plus, Alabama agreed to purchase 2,500 vehicles from Mercedes. While the bridge loan the Big Three is requesting will be paid back, Alabama's $180,000-plus per job was pure incentive. Sen. Shelby, not only are you out of touch, you are a self-serving hypocrite, who is prepared to ruin our nation because of lack of knowledge and lack of due diligence in making your opinions and decisions.
After 9/11, the Detroit Three and Harley Davidson gave $40 million-plus emergency vehicles to the recovery efforts. What was given to the 9/11 relief effort by the Asian and European Auto Manufactures? $0 Nada. Zip!
We live in a world of free trade, world economy and we have not been able to produce products as cost efficiently. While the governments of other auto producing nations subsidize their automakers, our government may be ready to force its demise. While our automakers have paid union wages, benefits and legacy debt, our Asian competitors employ cheap labor. We are at an extreme disadvantage in production cost. Although many UAW concessions begin in 2010, many lawmakers think it's not enough.
Some point the blame to corporate management. I would like to speak of Ford Motor Co. The company has streamlined by reducing our workforce by 51,000 since 2005, closing 17 plants and cutting expenses. Product and future product is excellent and the company is focused on one Ford. This is a company poised for success. Ford product quality and corporate management have improved light years since the nightmare of Jacques Nasser. Thank you Alan Mulally and the best auto company management team in the business.
The financial collapse caused by the secondary mortgage fiasco and the greed of Wall Street has led to a $700 billion bailout of the industry that created the problem. AIG spent nearly $1 million on three company excursions to lavish resorts and hunting destinations. Paulson is saying no to $250 billion foreclosure relief and the whole thing is a mess. So when the Big Three ask for 4 percent of that of the $700 billion, $25 billion to save the country's largest industry, there is obviously oppositions. But does it make sense to reward the culprits of the problem with $700 billion unconditionally, and ignore the victims?
As a Ford dealer, I feel our portion of the $25 billion will never be touched and is not necessary. Ford currently has $29 billion of liquidity. However, the effect of a bankruptcy by GM will hurt the suppliers we all do business with. A Chapter 11 bankruptcy by any manufacture would cost retirees their health care and retirements. Chances are GM would recover from Chapter 11 with a better business plan with much less expense. So who foots the bill if GM or all three go Chapter 11? All that extra health care, unemployment, loss of tax base and some forgiven debt goes back to the taxpayer, us. With no chance of repayment, this would be much worse than a loan with the intent of repayment.
So while it is debatable whether a loan or Chapter 11 is better for the Big Three, a $25 billion loan is definitely better for the taxpayers and the economy of our country.
So I'll end where I began on the quality of the products of Detroit. Before you, Mr. or Ms. Journalist continue to misinform the American public and turn them against one of the great industries that helped build this nation, I must ask you one question. Before you, Mr. or Madam Congressman vote to end health care and retirement benefits for 1 million retirees, eliminate 2.5 million of our nation's jobs, lose the technology that will lead us in the future and create an economic disaster including hundreds of billions of tax dollars lost, I ask this question not in the rhetorical sense. I ask it in the sincere, literal way. Can you tell me, have you driven a Ford lately?
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Bear With Me
So it's been awhile, but I'm back.
Did you see the news today? Oh boy. The Berlin Zoo may have to give up Knut, the polar bear. What will the Berliners do? And did I just call them jelly donuts? My German is not good. Or existent.
Anyway, two things about this that I found particularly funny.
First, bear keeper Heiner Kloes' quote in the story: "The survival of the species is more important than any individual. I won't hang on to Knut if it means keeping him with an old lady."
How many times have we heard that ladies?
Second, there was a story on msn.com earlier in the week along the lines of "How to tell the difference between a boy polar bear and a girl polar bear." I didn't read it, but it stuck with me.
So of course my first thought when I saw the Knut story today was that headline. My second thought was, look for his Knuts.
Did you see the news today? Oh boy. The Berlin Zoo may have to give up Knut, the polar bear. What will the Berliners do? And did I just call them jelly donuts? My German is not good. Or existent.
Anyway, two things about this that I found particularly funny.
First, bear keeper Heiner Kloes' quote in the story: "The survival of the species is more important than any individual. I won't hang on to Knut if it means keeping him with an old lady."
How many times have we heard that ladies?
Second, there was a story on msn.com earlier in the week along the lines of "How to tell the difference between a boy polar bear and a girl polar bear." I didn't read it, but it stuck with me.
So of course my first thought when I saw the Knut story today was that headline. My second thought was, look for his Knuts.
Monday, November 10, 2008
That's My Girl, Part ii
Lessons in DNAWe all -- and by all I mean my fellow females (and BTW, is that an oxymoron? fellow females) -- Anyway, we all have that Oh-My-God-I've-Become-My-Mother moment. Hopefully, someone else is driving at the time. Hopefully, we're not holding anything sharp. Hopefully, the moment passes.
Sometimes that moment comes looking in the mirror, finding a wrinkle or yet another gray hair. Often it comes when some particular sentence jettisons itself from your mouth, , usually starting with "If you don't cut that out I'll ...," "Wait 'til your father ... " or "Just wait until you have kids ..."
I think that moment came at least two decades too early for my daughter this week. I showed her the pictures posted here, one taken in 2004, the other in 1971.
All she could say was "Mom, put it away. That's really freakin' me out." At least she wasn't holding anything sharp.
Monday, November 3, 2008
Just a thought
So I'm wondering -- Is Obama's grandmother dying the night before the election for president of these United States anything like Bo Schembechler dying right before Michigan played Ohio State for No. 1 almost exactly two years ago?
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Grosse Pointe (Blank)
Even I don't have words for this. I guess what makes America great is that even idiots can express their opinions. And then the rest of us can ridicule them. It's just too bad that none of the trick-or-treaters were dressed as Dorothy. It would have been great to see a bucket of water make this witch melt away.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Vote!
OK, two of my friends -- who are nothing alike and have never met -- sent me this video. A week apart. What are you people trying to tell me? And what on earth makes you think I wouldn't? I will admit, the headline is pretty cool. But it's not the first time an old, er, older person has spoken to me like that.
The point is, vote on Tuesday dammit. Don't end up a CNN exclusive. And don't let McPalin win by a vote.
The point is, vote on Tuesday dammit. Don't end up a CNN exclusive. And don't let McPalin win by a vote.
Monday, October 27, 2008
That's My Girl
I knocked on my daughter's door to wake her up around 7:30 one morning last week and there she stood, already dressed, complete with baseball glove on her hand.
A few days before, we had been watching the Red Sox during dinner and somebody slid hard into second. My son said, "He should watch it. He could hurt somebody."
Nina said, "Yeah, like Ty Cobb used to," and went on to explain that Cobb used to sharpen his spikes for just that reason -- to discourage a play when he was stealing a base.
That's my girl.
Sometimes, it's like living with Mini Me. I backed off a little early on, when at age 2 or so she spent as much time arranging her crayons in a very precise, very straight line as she did coloring. I must not have tried hard enough.
Nina's as cynical and sarcastic as they come. Which is saying a lot since she's not quite 10. She constantly rides her brother, correcting and challenging almost every sentence out of the poor kid's mouth. She loves sports and books and animals and exploring. She's fascinated by finding things out, always wanting to learn something new and she gets distracted halfway through a project and moves on to what's next. She'll finish it eventually. She likes games and competing, though she's more interested in beating her brother or her parents than, say, the other soccer team.
In other ways, she is as unlike me as she could possibly be. Not particularly organized. Much more, um, relaxed in the neatness department. She's built like a Russian tennis player. She has her own pace, own agenda, and I'm not quite sure what color the sun is in her world, but I believe it's a happy, girly color like cotton candy pink or a luscious lilac.
Admittedly, these things often want to make me want to scream loudly and rip my hair out. But I know if I did, I'd hear Nina's voice saying, "You know Mom, that's really not a good look for you. But at least it's not gray anymore."
A few days before, we had been watching the Red Sox during dinner and somebody slid hard into second. My son said, "He should watch it. He could hurt somebody."
Nina said, "Yeah, like Ty Cobb used to," and went on to explain that Cobb used to sharpen his spikes for just that reason -- to discourage a play when he was stealing a base.
That's my girl.
Sometimes, it's like living with Mini Me. I backed off a little early on, when at age 2 or so she spent as much time arranging her crayons in a very precise, very straight line as she did coloring. I must not have tried hard enough.
Nina's as cynical and sarcastic as they come. Which is saying a lot since she's not quite 10. She constantly rides her brother, correcting and challenging almost every sentence out of the poor kid's mouth. She loves sports and books and animals and exploring. She's fascinated by finding things out, always wanting to learn something new and she gets distracted halfway through a project and moves on to what's next. She'll finish it eventually. She likes games and competing, though she's more interested in beating her brother or her parents than, say, the other soccer team.
In other ways, she is as unlike me as she could possibly be. Not particularly organized. Much more, um, relaxed in the neatness department. She's built like a Russian tennis player. She has her own pace, own agenda, and I'm not quite sure what color the sun is in her world, but I believe it's a happy, girly color like cotton candy pink or a luscious lilac.
Admittedly, these things often want to make me want to scream loudly and rip my hair out. But I know if I did, I'd hear Nina's voice saying, "You know Mom, that's really not a good look for you. But at least it's not gray anymore."
Friday, October 24, 2008
Read Between the Lines, Pt. II
Apparently, although reading before bed is as good as melatonin, blogging for bed is more like adrenaline.
Almost got up to post this at 2:23 a.m., but thought I'd have a better chance of getting some rest without all the lights and sounds and stimulation.
Never really happened. Instead of relaxing, unwinding and drifting off, couldn't stop thinking about all the writing assignments looming (professional and recreational) and how to approach them. Not. Conducive. To. Sleep.
Rats.
Unfortunately, I should have gotten up in the wee hours to jot down some thoughts, because 9 hours later, I don't really care. I will care again. Eventually. I'll interview a wonderful woman who will talk about her cause, it will be like getting hopped up on sugar and caffeine from a lovely non-fat cinnamon latte and I'll get some writing done.
Then I'll crash. And hopefully sleep.
Soundly.
Almost got up to post this at 2:23 a.m., but thought I'd have a better chance of getting some rest without all the lights and sounds and stimulation.
Never really happened. Instead of relaxing, unwinding and drifting off, couldn't stop thinking about all the writing assignments looming (professional and recreational) and how to approach them. Not. Conducive. To. Sleep.
Rats.
Unfortunately, I should have gotten up in the wee hours to jot down some thoughts, because 9 hours later, I don't really care. I will care again. Eventually. I'll interview a wonderful woman who will talk about her cause, it will be like getting hopped up on sugar and caffeine from a lovely non-fat cinnamon latte and I'll get some writing done.
Then I'll crash. And hopefully sleep.
Soundly.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Read Between the Lines
I am, at the moment, between books and quite honestly, I feel a little naked.
You could say I read a lot. Probably four or five books a month (although the behemoth "Pillars Of The Earth" took almost a month itself). And I'm not one of those people who can read several things at the same time. A book is like a nice, hot bubble bath. You wouldn't put the shower on as well. I like to fully immerse myself in one read at a time.
I'm a little obsessive-compulsive, er, thorough when it comes to what I read too. I'll consume as much as I can on a certain subject (art -- "Michelangelo and the Pope's Ceiling," "Strapless: John Singer Sargent and the Fall of Madam X;" Mormons -- "The Poet and the Murderer," "The Biography of Joseph Smith" "Shattered Dreams," "Under the Banner of Heaven") or by a particular author (Margaret Atwood, Elmore Leonard, Jon Krakauer).
Sometimes I'll pick up those "shoulda" books -- classics we shoulda read in high school or college ("The Iliad," "The Odyssey," "The House of Seven Gables").
When I start to feel a little soft in the head, I go non-fiction ("The Beak of the Finch: The Story of Evolution in Our Time," "The Peabody Sisters: Three Women who Ignited Romanticism"). And when it's time for a mindless escape, Anita Shreve has been popping up a lot lately.
Some might call it escapism. I prefer "quest for knowledge." It also helps me get to sleep at night.
But I just finished "Here If You Need Me," by Kate Braestrup, and the two titles I have on hold at the library haven't come in yet. So here I am, caught with my dustcover down.
It's almost time for Harry Potter again, from the beginning and consecutively, but not quite yet. And sadly, there's nothing in the pile of 14 books next to my bed that really interests me at the moment.
In need of some sort of mental fig leaf, tonight I'm going to give "The Last Expedition" a shot. And hope the library calls soon to say my books are in.
You could say I read a lot. Probably four or five books a month (although the behemoth "Pillars Of The Earth" took almost a month itself). And I'm not one of those people who can read several things at the same time. A book is like a nice, hot bubble bath. You wouldn't put the shower on as well. I like to fully immerse myself in one read at a time.
I'm a little obsessive-compulsive, er, thorough when it comes to what I read too. I'll consume as much as I can on a certain subject (art -- "Michelangelo and the Pope's Ceiling," "Strapless: John Singer Sargent and the Fall of Madam X;" Mormons -- "The Poet and the Murderer," "The Biography of Joseph Smith" "Shattered Dreams," "Under the Banner of Heaven") or by a particular author (Margaret Atwood, Elmore Leonard, Jon Krakauer).
Sometimes I'll pick up those "shoulda" books -- classics we shoulda read in high school or college ("The Iliad," "The Odyssey," "The House of Seven Gables").
When I start to feel a little soft in the head, I go non-fiction ("The Beak of the Finch: The Story of Evolution in Our Time," "The Peabody Sisters: Three Women who Ignited Romanticism"). And when it's time for a mindless escape, Anita Shreve has been popping up a lot lately.
Some might call it escapism. I prefer "quest for knowledge." It also helps me get to sleep at night.
But I just finished "Here If You Need Me," by Kate Braestrup, and the two titles I have on hold at the library haven't come in yet. So here I am, caught with my dustcover down.
It's almost time for Harry Potter again, from the beginning and consecutively, but not quite yet. And sadly, there's nothing in the pile of 14 books next to my bed that really interests me at the moment.
In need of some sort of mental fig leaf, tonight I'm going to give "The Last Expedition" a shot. And hope the library calls soon to say my books are in.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Hello, My Name Is ...
Maybe we don't need Dale Carnegie's tips on how to win friends and influence people. Maybe we just need a name. And heck, I got one of those!
I got a notification last weekend that Michelle McKenzie had added me as a friend. No, it wasn't some pseudo-psycho way of learning to love myself. It was from a chick with the same name whom I had never heard of before Saturday. Of course, because I practice safe text, I did ask her first if it was a legitimate friend request or something randomly generated.
Turns out, Michelle McKenzie sent friend requests to seven of the 141 Michelle McKenzies you get if you search Facebook. She said she thought it would be funny to see status updates like "Michelle McKenzie is now friends with Michelle McKenzie, Michelle McKenzie and Michelle McKenzie." I and three others accepted the requests.
It was a little disconcerting at first. I logged on Saturday afternoon and my news feed said "Michelle McKenzie is home after a Mt. Diablo hike and is now zeroing in on the subject of this year's NaNoWriMo novel."
My first thought was, "I am? Did I enjoy it?"
My second thought was, "Rats, the little voices are back and now they're coming out my fingers."
My third thought was, "Oh yeah, it's my new friend in California."
Now it's pretty entertaining to scroll through status updates or live feeds and see "Michelle McKenzie is climbing the PathWords ladder" or "Michelle McKenzie has joined the Word Challenge Club," and catch myself thinking "I am?" Then I think, we'll, maybe I should. (But not PathWords because it drives me crazy to see the message "So and so is improving their vocabulary in PathWords." Argh.)
You can learn a lot about yourself by searching your own name on Facebook, or at least get good background material for making stuff up. It looks like there are MMs in almost every state and several other countries. We are ethnically diverse and span a couple generations, me being at the far end of that spectrum. One of us is apparently a serving wench and another is a pirate. Some of us think we look good in bikinis.
Michelle California and I probably have a little more in common than some of the others. We think Yellowstone is one of the most amazing places on this planet. We both write, have a love of language (even if I refuse to climb the PathWords ladder) and are pretty damn funny, sometimes in a twisted sort of way.
Michelle McKenzie is now friends with Michelle McKenzie. And for the record, there are about 17 Dale Carnegies on Facebook.
I got a notification last weekend that Michelle McKenzie had added me as a friend. No, it wasn't some pseudo-psycho way of learning to love myself. It was from a chick with the same name whom I had never heard of before Saturday. Of course, because I practice safe text, I did ask her first if it was a legitimate friend request or something randomly generated.
Turns out, Michelle McKenzie sent friend requests to seven of the 141 Michelle McKenzies you get if you search Facebook. She said she thought it would be funny to see status updates like "Michelle McKenzie is now friends with Michelle McKenzie, Michelle McKenzie and Michelle McKenzie." I and three others accepted the requests.
It was a little disconcerting at first. I logged on Saturday afternoon and my news feed said "Michelle McKenzie is home after a Mt. Diablo hike and is now zeroing in on the subject of this year's NaNoWriMo novel."
My first thought was, "I am? Did I enjoy it?"
My second thought was, "Rats, the little voices are back and now they're coming out my fingers."
My third thought was, "Oh yeah, it's my new friend in California."
Now it's pretty entertaining to scroll through status updates or live feeds and see "Michelle McKenzie is climbing the PathWords ladder" or "Michelle McKenzie has joined the Word Challenge Club," and catch myself thinking "I am?" Then I think, we'll, maybe I should. (But not PathWords because it drives me crazy to see the message "So and so is improving their vocabulary in PathWords." Argh.)
You can learn a lot about yourself by searching your own name on Facebook, or at least get good background material for making stuff up. It looks like there are MMs in almost every state and several other countries. We are ethnically diverse and span a couple generations, me being at the far end of that spectrum. One of us is apparently a serving wench and another is a pirate. Some of us think we look good in bikinis.
Michelle California and I probably have a little more in common than some of the others. We think Yellowstone is one of the most amazing places on this planet. We both write, have a love of language (even if I refuse to climb the PathWords ladder) and are pretty damn funny, sometimes in a twisted sort of way.
Michelle McKenzie is now friends with Michelle McKenzie. And for the record, there are about 17 Dale Carnegies on Facebook.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Mental push ups
Saw this article on improving brain function and thought it was interesting.
According to Dr. Bernard Croisile, there are five daily activities you can do to sharpen your cognitive skills. To my female readers, keep in mind it's on the Askmen.com website, so you'll probably need to do two sets of the suggested exercises.
I and just about everyone I know have brain farts. (Sorry, not ready to call them senior moments yet. Besides, I have a 7-year-old boy -- our world is six degrees of separation from farts.) And we'll take all the help we can get to improve memory, attention and ... um, whatever else we use our brains for.
Most of these things I do already, like math in my head while driving. Apparently, it helps strengthen your attention span. It keeps me awake at the wheel.
Of course, it may all be a crock -- one part of the article suggests that these exercises help maintain efficiency when multitasking and it's written for men ...
'Nuf said.
But we could all use some mental push ups or sit ups or pull ups now and then. And if occasionally rearranging my desk, reading a story a day in the science or business section or kicking ass and taking names in the Webkinz World arcade keeps me sharp enough to wear my shirt right side out or give my kids milk money, then I'm all for it.
According to Dr. Bernard Croisile, there are five daily activities you can do to sharpen your cognitive skills. To my female readers, keep in mind it's on the Askmen.com website, so you'll probably need to do two sets of the suggested exercises.
I and just about everyone I know have brain farts. (Sorry, not ready to call them senior moments yet. Besides, I have a 7-year-old boy -- our world is six degrees of separation from farts.) And we'll take all the help we can get to improve memory, attention and ... um, whatever else we use our brains for.
Most of these things I do already, like math in my head while driving. Apparently, it helps strengthen your attention span. It keeps me awake at the wheel.
Of course, it may all be a crock -- one part of the article suggests that these exercises help maintain efficiency when multitasking and it's written for men ...
'Nuf said.
But we could all use some mental push ups or sit ups or pull ups now and then. And if occasionally rearranging my desk, reading a story a day in the science or business section or kicking ass and taking names in the Webkinz World arcade keeps me sharp enough to wear my shirt right side out or give my kids milk money, then I'm all for it.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Shhh! The Crashing Economy is Really a Secret
A Tom Edsall column on Politico caught my eye this morning (hat tip Mike Allen's Playbook). It questions whether Barack Obama's campaign will be hurt more if he starts changing his upbeat tone to "prepare the electorate for tough times" or fails "to prepare voters for what's coming."
Do these guys really think voters don't know what's coming? And for those who haven't known for oh, say the last year that the economy is sinking faster than a Tim Wakefield knuckle ball, the last 7 to 10 days have made it pretty damn clear. Whether it's via the Internet, the TV news, the newspapers or the big lightboards in Times Square, we been inundated with the image of the U.S. and global economies as gigantic flushing toilets giving all of us one helluva big financial swirly.
We drive less because we have to choose whether to put gas in the car or food on the table. The one thing we do buy is a couple of extra sweaters or sweatshirts because we sure aren't going to put the heat up this winter. Just about everybody is worried about losing his or her job, knowing that golden parachutes are only for those who created this mess in the first place.
Do the pundits and the experts and the candidates themselves really think the people voting for them aren't aware of how bad it's going to get?
Maybe it's because I live in a Blue State and we're better informed. Maybe it's because I live in Taxachusetts, so talk of tax cuts just elicit a knowing nod, the kind you give to the elderly aunt in the nursing home you won't be able to afford next who tells you she once slept with Elvis or the 2-year-old who says she just caught a leprechaun in the back yard. That's a nice story, hon.
The truth is, we're not voting to change the tide, we're voting to stem it. We're voting for the lesser of two evils, for who won't make it worse. Neither man is going to make it better, at least not in the next four years.
And most of us already know that.
Do these guys really think voters don't know what's coming? And for those who haven't known for oh, say the last year that the economy is sinking faster than a Tim Wakefield knuckle ball, the last 7 to 10 days have made it pretty damn clear. Whether it's via the Internet, the TV news, the newspapers or the big lightboards in Times Square, we been inundated with the image of the U.S. and global economies as gigantic flushing toilets giving all of us one helluva big financial swirly.
We drive less because we have to choose whether to put gas in the car or food on the table. The one thing we do buy is a couple of extra sweaters or sweatshirts because we sure aren't going to put the heat up this winter. Just about everybody is worried about losing his or her job, knowing that golden parachutes are only for those who created this mess in the first place.
Do the pundits and the experts and the candidates themselves really think the people voting for them aren't aware of how bad it's going to get?
Maybe it's because I live in a Blue State and we're better informed. Maybe it's because I live in Taxachusetts, so talk of tax cuts just elicit a knowing nod, the kind you give to the elderly aunt in the nursing home you won't be able to afford next who tells you she once slept with Elvis or the 2-year-old who says she just caught a leprechaun in the back yard. That's a nice story, hon.
The truth is, we're not voting to change the tide, we're voting to stem it. We're voting for the lesser of two evils, for who won't make it worse. Neither man is going to make it better, at least not in the next four years.
And most of us already know that.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
From the Mouths of Babes
So, should you worry when your 8-year-old starts a sentence with: "Mom, I don't mean this in a bad way, but ..."
My daughter, now nearly 10, has actually started a few sentences in such a way. I guess it's good that she's curious. She's also a cynical little thing. She may have been H.L. Mencken in a previous life.
That particular instance was, "Mom, I don't mean this in a bad way, but isn't it a little weird for a grownup to be playing on Webkinz World?"
This came the same day my son logged on to WW and said: "Mom, you didn't win me any money last night. Don't you know it's your job?"
Welcome to my damned if you do, damned if you don't life. I gently explained to my daughter that grownups like playing video games (at least that's what they were called back in the day) as much as kids. And while it may be a little unusual, I like to play games to clear my mind ... or better yet, to not have to think about anything at all ... And because I like to win.
In short, it's how I veg out.
I also explained to my son that winning him money on Webkinz world is not in the official Mom Job Description, however it is one of my special skills from which he benefits. He didn't buy it, so I'm off for some Color Storm. Or maybe Get Eleven Solitaire. After all, I've got a job to do, even if it's weird.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Breast Case Scenario is Worst Case
OK, believe it or not, I started out writing a mini defense of Sarah Palin. Actually, it was more a defense of women, of which I think Palin is one. Trouble is, as I was writing things I firmly believe, I started thinking about some of the stuff she is doing and wow -- just blew my own arguments right out of the water. So what follows below is what I started writing, blended into the conclusions I reached. Hey, just call me Sybil ...
What I had started to say is that while I am not a Sarah Palin supporter, I am getting a little tired of the Palin bashing. Not because it’s not deserved – she’s inexperienced, and stands for a whole host of things for which I have no patience and less respect.
But here’s the thing – it’s starting to feel way too much like the underlying current of the criticism is because she’s a woman. Just like the immediate knee-jerk reaction to her nomination was that women will vote for her because we are all of one uterus, the criticism seems to be genetically based as well.
Now, here’s a thing I’ve learned – as much as men think we’re critical of them, nobody’s tougher on women than other women. From the start, and by start I mean dawn of time, we have been each others’ biggest competition for many things – most prominently guys and jobs, both of which are limited resources if you want a good one with unlimited potential.
At the same time, as much as we may criticize, judge or challenge the way another female wears her hair, does her job, raises her kids, drives, cooks, eats, drinks, shops, talks, sings, votes, leads or follows – we can also find something to defend.
I think I learned that a little later in life than most women do, mostly because I spent so many years operating in a so-called “man’s” world as a sportswriter and editor. I was often the only woman in the pack or one of two or three and the majority of people about whom I was writing were men. It’s still where I’m most comfortable because sports is something I know and love and men are truly less judgmental than women (probably because they’re not quite as smart).
But as I’ve grown closer to my female friends and made new ones, it’s become more and more clear that there’s no one whose going to support you more than another woman. We don’t have to agree or believe the same things, but there is a unique bond based on what we’ve experienced, and if you start to get in that kitchen, we'll circle the wagons.
So, criticize Sarah Palin for believing that we’re carrying out God’s mission in Iraq, for allowing the Wasilla police chief to bill victims for their rape kits, for supporting Ted Stevens and the Bridge to Nowhere, for dodging Troopergate, for only having started paying attention to international affairs in the last five weeks, for not understanding global warming or believing that polar bears are not an endangered species ...
Here is where I was going to list a couple of things about Sarah Palin to defend. We're both moms, both with careers.
I was thinking what courage it takes each day to get up and face the hordes of critics ... but on further review, it's probably ignorance. Really, who has she faced? She's done three interviews, is constantly and consistently shielded from the media, has press restricted almost from the same zip code in which she's meeting heads of state.
I was thinking that all of us have been in situations where we were put on the spot or asked something we were unprepared to answer and have probably said something stupid (for me, "Mazel tov Cocktail" is up there). But we also know that it's better to just stop talking rather than putting together a lot of unrelated words for several minutes ... outloud ... with thousands of people recording these words for millions to watch or read.
And I was thinking that it takes determination and strength to get where she is. The truth is, she's the last best gimmick the Republicans could put out there to draw attention to their dog and pony show. And whether it's lipstick on a pit bull or a Paso Fino, no self-respecting woman -- and certainly none of the women I know -- would allow herself to be trotted out day after day simply because she is a woman.
What I had started to say is that while I am not a Sarah Palin supporter, I am getting a little tired of the Palin bashing. Not because it’s not deserved – she’s inexperienced, and stands for a whole host of things for which I have no patience and less respect.
But here’s the thing – it’s starting to feel way too much like the underlying current of the criticism is because she’s a woman. Just like the immediate knee-jerk reaction to her nomination was that women will vote for her because we are all of one uterus, the criticism seems to be genetically based as well.
Now, here’s a thing I’ve learned – as much as men think we’re critical of them, nobody’s tougher on women than other women. From the start, and by start I mean dawn of time, we have been each others’ biggest competition for many things – most prominently guys and jobs, both of which are limited resources if you want a good one with unlimited potential.
At the same time, as much as we may criticize, judge or challenge the way another female wears her hair, does her job, raises her kids, drives, cooks, eats, drinks, shops, talks, sings, votes, leads or follows – we can also find something to defend.
I think I learned that a little later in life than most women do, mostly because I spent so many years operating in a so-called “man’s” world as a sportswriter and editor. I was often the only woman in the pack or one of two or three and the majority of people about whom I was writing were men. It’s still where I’m most comfortable because sports is something I know and love and men are truly less judgmental than women (probably because they’re not quite as smart).
But as I’ve grown closer to my female friends and made new ones, it’s become more and more clear that there’s no one whose going to support you more than another woman. We don’t have to agree or believe the same things, but there is a unique bond based on what we’ve experienced, and if you start to get in that kitchen, we'll circle the wagons.
So, criticize Sarah Palin for believing that we’re carrying out God’s mission in Iraq, for allowing the Wasilla police chief to bill victims for their rape kits, for supporting Ted Stevens and the Bridge to Nowhere, for dodging Troopergate, for only having started paying attention to international affairs in the last five weeks, for not understanding global warming or believing that polar bears are not an endangered species ...
Here is where I was going to list a couple of things about Sarah Palin to defend. We're both moms, both with careers.
I was thinking what courage it takes each day to get up and face the hordes of critics ... but on further review, it's probably ignorance. Really, who has she faced? She's done three interviews, is constantly and consistently shielded from the media, has press restricted almost from the same zip code in which she's meeting heads of state.
I was thinking that all of us have been in situations where we were put on the spot or asked something we were unprepared to answer and have probably said something stupid (for me, "Mazel tov Cocktail" is up there). But we also know that it's better to just stop talking rather than putting together a lot of unrelated words for several minutes ... outloud ... with thousands of people recording these words for millions to watch or read.
And I was thinking that it takes determination and strength to get where she is. The truth is, she's the last best gimmick the Republicans could put out there to draw attention to their dog and pony show. And whether it's lipstick on a pit bull or a Paso Fino, no self-respecting woman -- and certainly none of the women I know -- would allow herself to be trotted out day after day simply because she is a woman.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Memo to Josh Howard: Shut up and play
I interrupt this blog silence for this important commercial message: Dallas Mavericks forward Josh Howard apologized for dissing the national anthem because people didn't like him any more.
First of all, Howard is just an idiot. If he was stupid enough to insult America in the first place, he's stupid enough to think that we'll believe his apology is sincere. He apparently needs to listen to more Timbaland. It's too late to apologize.
Second of all, I thank him for opening the door for late rant. There was plenty that bothered me about the Olympics -- don't get me started on China. But right up near the top is the fact that there wasn't a flag to be seen when the United States men's basketball team won the gold medal.
There were plenty of symbols, the Nike swoosh most obvious among them. But for Lebron James or Kobe Bryant or Carmelo Anthony to tell us that he's playing for America? Please. That's like Josh Howard saying he really does respect the national anthem.
After the final against Australia, yup, no question the so-called Redeem Team deserved gold. And a Redeem Team they were. But they weren't trying to re-establish the United States as a world basketball power. They were playing to redeem themselves, polish their bronzed and bruised egos.
Maybe I had too many pictures of Jim Craig taped up around my room in high school, but if they had won it for America, there would have been a flag. Maybe carried by Dwayne Wade in a victory lap around the arena. Or maybe wrapped around Jason Kidd's shoulders on the medal stand as the Star-Spangled Banner was played.
But that's a little much to expect from an NBA posse. Doesn't matter who they playing for, it's only about claiming the reward.
First of all, Howard is just an idiot. If he was stupid enough to insult America in the first place, he's stupid enough to think that we'll believe his apology is sincere. He apparently needs to listen to more Timbaland. It's too late to apologize.
Second of all, I thank him for opening the door for late rant. There was plenty that bothered me about the Olympics -- don't get me started on China. But right up near the top is the fact that there wasn't a flag to be seen when the United States men's basketball team won the gold medal.
There were plenty of symbols, the Nike swoosh most obvious among them. But for Lebron James or Kobe Bryant or Carmelo Anthony to tell us that he's playing for America? Please. That's like Josh Howard saying he really does respect the national anthem.
After the final against Australia, yup, no question the so-called Redeem Team deserved gold. And a Redeem Team they were. But they weren't trying to re-establish the United States as a world basketball power. They were playing to redeem themselves, polish their bronzed and bruised egos.
Maybe I had too many pictures of Jim Craig taped up around my room in high school, but if they had won it for America, there would have been a flag. Maybe carried by Dwayne Wade in a victory lap around the arena. Or maybe wrapped around Jason Kidd's shoulders on the medal stand as the Star-Spangled Banner was played.
But that's a little much to expect from an NBA posse. Doesn't matter who they playing for, it's only about claiming the reward.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
I Coulda Been A Contendah!
One of my friends always asks "Where do you find these things?" The answer, of course, is the Internet. In this case, courtesy Yglesias. I'm not sure if it's sad or just plain scary, but this could have been me. Thankfully I went the word route instead of the on-camera talent route. Mostly because I can't go that long without blinking and rarely look like a deer caught in headlights.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Sensitivity training for AP
The news business today isn't what it was when I started back in the day, but I'm still pretty old school when it comes to some things. Like not victimizing the victim. The AP has a exclusive today about how Olympic swimmer Margaret Hoelzer was molested as a child.
Now, among the things we should be taking from this story are enlightenment about assault on children and how some kids don't even realize what was done to them until years later; a deep appreciation for the sorrow, anger and frustration this young woman has borne for nearly 20 years and also for her strength to succeed so spectacularly in spite of it; but mostly for her courage to share the story in the first place.
Then the writer -- the version I linked to didn't have a byline -- says: "Her message will be so much more poignant now that she's come clean about her past."
Comes clean.
You come clean about stealing hubcaps or throwing rocks at cats. You come clean about using HGH. You come clean about things you did wrong, not wrongs done to you.
Yes, I'm nitpicking. It's one sentence buried near the bottom where most people won't read it. But I did. Margaret Hoelzer probably will. And her friends and family. And other victims. And what they see is the slightest implication -- wholly unintended of course -- of fault.
The last thing anyone who knows me well would call me is PC. This is more about the decline of language or at least the awareness of the meaning of the words being written. More and more, the emphasis is getting the story, getting the story, getting the story and once it's out there, the story suffers because nobody paid attention to what it says.
Margaret Hoelzer will undoubtedly inspire other young victims to unburden themselves and confide their stories. Let's hope none of them will think twice because of something they read in the newspaper or online.
Now, among the things we should be taking from this story are enlightenment about assault on children and how some kids don't even realize what was done to them until years later; a deep appreciation for the sorrow, anger and frustration this young woman has borne for nearly 20 years and also for her strength to succeed so spectacularly in spite of it; but mostly for her courage to share the story in the first place.
Then the writer -- the version I linked to didn't have a byline -- says: "Her message will be so much more poignant now that she's come clean about her past."
Comes clean.
You come clean about stealing hubcaps or throwing rocks at cats. You come clean about using HGH. You come clean about things you did wrong, not wrongs done to you.
Yes, I'm nitpicking. It's one sentence buried near the bottom where most people won't read it. But I did. Margaret Hoelzer probably will. And her friends and family. And other victims. And what they see is the slightest implication -- wholly unintended of course -- of fault.
The last thing anyone who knows me well would call me is PC. This is more about the decline of language or at least the awareness of the meaning of the words being written. More and more, the emphasis is getting the story, getting the story, getting the story and once it's out there, the story suffers because nobody paid attention to what it says.
Margaret Hoelzer will undoubtedly inspire other young victims to unburden themselves and confide their stories. Let's hope none of them will think twice because of something they read in the newspaper or online.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Music calms the savage b(r)east
I love the music on my iPod. Yup, that's the news of the day because I haven't listened to it in so long that I forgot just how good it is. I pretty much stopped using it when I had to stop running. D'oh.
So my soundtrack today started with Death Cab for Cutie's "Plans", included some Eminem, Five for Fighting, Sia, Black Eyed Peas, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Foo Fighters, Killers, Dropkick Murphys and a playlist I made for a road trip to NYC with the girls.
I have come to the conclusion that I must listen to my music more and that we all need a soundtrack. I know mine will have to include "Breathe Me" (Sia) and "Learn to Fly" (Foo Fighters), "The Impression That I Get" Mighty Mighty Bosstones, "Driving With One Hand on the Wheel" (Aimee Mann). Probably half the songs from "Garden State." That's for starters. What's your soundtrack include? And how many songs does a life soundtrack get to have anyway?
Leave a comment, I'd love to know.
So my soundtrack today started with Death Cab for Cutie's "Plans", included some Eminem, Five for Fighting, Sia, Black Eyed Peas, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Foo Fighters, Killers, Dropkick Murphys and a playlist I made for a road trip to NYC with the girls.
I have come to the conclusion that I must listen to my music more and that we all need a soundtrack. I know mine will have to include "Breathe Me" (Sia) and "Learn to Fly" (Foo Fighters), "The Impression That I Get" Mighty Mighty Bosstones, "Driving With One Hand on the Wheel" (Aimee Mann). Probably half the songs from "Garden State." That's for starters. What's your soundtrack include? And how many songs does a life soundtrack get to have anyway?
Leave a comment, I'd love to know.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Bippity Boppity Boo
I found out Wednesday that wishes do come true! Comiserating (OK, whining) to a friend about work and everything else that sucked on Tuesday via email, I wrote to her that we needed fairy godmothers.
Lo and behold on Wednesday I got one! This pic popped into my inbox Wednesday night from one of my longest-running and best friends who I haven't spoken to in far too long, apparently. I had no idea that Sarah, aka Glinda the Good Witch, had discovered her inner fairy, but as usual, she showed up right when I needed her.
LOL
I haven't laughed much this week, but this morning I laughed for most of the 20-minute walk to work. I know I looked like one of those people you see coming toward you in downtown Boston who immediately makes you cross the street.
The intercom on my train wasn't working great today, so there was a lot of static in the speakers as the conductor announced South Station and reminded us to take all our belongings, so I wasn't sure I heard him right:
"Thank you for shopping Wal-Mart."
I asked him on the way out today if I had heard him right and he smiled and said "yeah, if you can't laugh about it, why bother?" He also said that someone on the train would probably call and complain and get him pulled off service.
That would be too bad because we all need somebody to remind us each day to take a minute and laugh. Even a stranger on a train.
The intercom on my train wasn't working great today, so there was a lot of static in the speakers as the conductor announced South Station and reminded us to take all our belongings, so I wasn't sure I heard him right:
"Thank you for shopping Wal-Mart."
I asked him on the way out today if I had heard him right and he smiled and said "yeah, if you can't laugh about it, why bother?" He also said that someone on the train would probably call and complain and get him pulled off service.
That would be too bad because we all need somebody to remind us each day to take a minute and laugh. Even a stranger on a train.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
A post a day
The idea here when I started this baby, was to have an outlet to write, react, vent, praise, ponder and sometimes shout from the proverbial (and virtual) rooftop. Doesn't matter if anyone's listening. It's a way to stay sharp, be creative. Have my say.
Dang that takes a lot of energy. Or maybe it just takes time. I don't know what goes faster -- 24 hours or a paycheck. The principle's really the same -- you have X amount of minutes, just like you have X amount of dollars. Once you deduct all the daily responsibilities: showering, feeding the masses, getting the kids off to school, work, feeding the masses again, cleaning up, wrestling SpongeBob for a few minutes of quality time, getting ready for bed, reading stories, finishing the work you brought home .... The day's about spent. And when the day has really sucked, like today, and yesterday and last week ... There's not always a whole helluva a lot to say -- well, OK there is, but nobody wants to read it over and over again.
So the stories I want to write are still simmering in my head. My dear friend Kelly, whose heart is as big as her metabolism is slow (I'm just workin' with information you gave me sistah), always manages to leave me with little sayings that stick in your head like bad songs on the radio.
One is "If you want to make God laugh, make a plan." Being a planner, that is especially appreciated.
The one that's been kicking my ass lately (thanks Kel) is "Any idiot can write a page a day." I have pages and pages to write and can't manage a post a day. So this is my woe-is-me moment. I'll wake up tomorrow, start again and hope there's some change left at the end of the day. How long can it take to fill a page?
Dang that takes a lot of energy. Or maybe it just takes time. I don't know what goes faster -- 24 hours or a paycheck. The principle's really the same -- you have X amount of minutes, just like you have X amount of dollars. Once you deduct all the daily responsibilities: showering, feeding the masses, getting the kids off to school, work, feeding the masses again, cleaning up, wrestling SpongeBob for a few minutes of quality time, getting ready for bed, reading stories, finishing the work you brought home .... The day's about spent. And when the day has really sucked, like today, and yesterday and last week ... There's not always a whole helluva a lot to say -- well, OK there is, but nobody wants to read it over and over again.
So the stories I want to write are still simmering in my head. My dear friend Kelly, whose heart is as big as her metabolism is slow (I'm just workin' with information you gave me sistah), always manages to leave me with little sayings that stick in your head like bad songs on the radio.
One is "If you want to make God laugh, make a plan." Being a planner, that is especially appreciated.
The one that's been kicking my ass lately (thanks Kel) is "Any idiot can write a page a day." I have pages and pages to write and can't manage a post a day. So this is my woe-is-me moment. I'll wake up tomorrow, start again and hope there's some change left at the end of the day. How long can it take to fill a page?
Monday, September 8, 2008
Never hold The Onion(s)
I love onions. My favorite grilled cheese has cheddar, feta, tomato and onions. Can't have a Coney without. Hold the pickles, hold the lettuce, but don't ever hold the onions.
I even start my day with onions -- The Onion to be exact. And I don't know if it's because it's Monday, the start of a long week or because I had beef last night, but this post about cows made me laugh out loud. If you can't navigate by the North Star, just bet on the bovine, go with the Guernsey. That's no bull.
And if you didn't find that amusing (or better yet, if you did), wait 'til tomorrow and read this. A shout out to Phil for sharing it a long time ago. It still holds true at least once a week.
I even start my day with onions -- The Onion to be exact. And I don't know if it's because it's Monday, the start of a long week or because I had beef last night, but this post about cows made me laugh out loud. If you can't navigate by the North Star, just bet on the bovine, go with the Guernsey. That's no bull.
And if you didn't find that amusing (or better yet, if you did), wait 'til tomorrow and read this. A shout out to Phil for sharing it a long time ago. It still holds true at least once a week.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
A Daffy Duck Stamp Story
This just quacked me up today.
Apparently, people calling a phone number printed on card issued by the government to order Duck Stamps -- you know, the license issued by the Fish and Wildlife Service you have to buy if you want to legally go out and shoot things with feathers -- instead get a phone sex line because of a typo on the card.
KUSA in Denver first reported the error on Wednesday. The phone number to order a Duck Stamp is 800-782-6724 or 800-STAMP24. The number on the card is 800-872-6724 or 800-TRAMP24.
According to the AP story, if you call the second number, you are "enticed by a husky female voice to 'talk only to the girls that turn you on,' for $1.99 a minute."
What the story doesn't say is that if you dial the right number, you are enticed by Daffy Duck to talk to only the Looney Tunes characters you want for $1.99 minute. Let me tell you, if you pick Elmer Fudd, it's gonna get costly.
Apparently, people calling a phone number printed on card issued by the government to order Duck Stamps -- you know, the license issued by the Fish and Wildlife Service you have to buy if you want to legally go out and shoot things with feathers -- instead get a phone sex line because of a typo on the card.
KUSA in Denver first reported the error on Wednesday. The phone number to order a Duck Stamp is 800-782-6724 or 800-STAMP24. The number on the card is 800-872-6724 or 800-TRAMP24.
According to the AP story, if you call the second number, you are "enticed by a husky female voice to 'talk only to the girls that turn you on,' for $1.99 a minute."
What the story doesn't say is that if you dial the right number, you are enticed by Daffy Duck to talk to only the Looney Tunes characters you want for $1.99 minute. Let me tell you, if you pick Elmer Fudd, it's gonna get costly.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Random GOP thoughts
To those of you who have been checking for new posts, thanks for reading. It's been awhile. Many reasons, none valid other than sheer laziness.
Nothing jump starts the creative juices quite like a total and mindbogglingly unbelievable meltdown like that of the Republican party. File under truth is stranger than fiction, not to mention a helluva lot more entertaining. Hour by hour it gets more bizarre, almost to the point where it's hard to find the words ... by I'll try.
Nothing jump starts the creative juices quite like a total and mindbogglingly unbelievable meltdown like that of the Republican party. File under truth is stranger than fiction, not to mention a helluva lot more entertaining. Hour by hour it gets more bizarre, almost to the point where it's hard to find the words ... by I'll try.
- There are not truth to the rumors that the GOP is changing the convention slogan to "What Happens in St. Paul, stays in St. Paul.
- There are some hilarious, satirical (and yes, probably highly offensive) photos here. I wish Time or Newsweek ran a column similar to Sports Illustrated's "Signs the Apocalypse is Upon Us." The winner would have to be the report that Bristol Palin's Baby Daddy was joining the Palins at the convention.
- Is it me or does Palin look like Agent 99 (my apologies to Barbara Feldon)? And you know, it's really no stretch to picture John McCain as Maxwell Smart.
- And hey, if Gov. Palin can be vice president, do ya think there's a Cabinet position for Lynne Spears? Department of Labor? How about Health and Human Services?
The Women's Vote
Ladies, in case you didn't know, when the Republicans announced that the governor of Alaska, Sarah Palin, would be the vice presidential candidate, they pretty much locked up the women's vote. Game over for Obama. He shoulda picked Hillary.
At least that's what the cashier in my local Stop & Shop was saying late Friday afternoon ... "Well, he's got the women's vote now ..."
Not quite sure what he said after that because, true to my X chromosome, everything above my shoulders just stopped working. Good thing too, because the readers who know me well can't believe that I didn't say anything to the guy ... smiling sweetly and mentioning that I heard one of the southern contingents would be wearing bright orange Virginia for Vaginas T-shirts at the convention this week.
Judging from the words and self-assured ignorant smile of the 40-something white male running the 12-items-or-less lane around 5 p.m. on Friday afternoon of a holiday weekend, we vote with our tits, not with our brains.
We will vote for McCain/Palin because we share issues like motherhood and PMS and do-these-pants-make-me-look-fat. It doesn't matter if we agree on issues like the economy, health care, education, the war in Iraq. We will unite because we understand bad hair days and bloating and that creepy soft handshake men give us so we won't be intimidated or hurt ...
And that's really OK because when I use my brain these days, it starts to hurt. It has to process information like there probably being a lot more men out there with the same thoughts and perceptions of that cashier (and I was in a blue state Stop & Shop, not a Piggly Wiggly or Winn Dixie!).
So unite ladies. The election has been decided for us. We can get back to our knitting circles and sip our cosmopolitans and talk about the stuff that really matters. Like that brownie recipe.
At least that's what the cashier in my local Stop & Shop was saying late Friday afternoon ... "Well, he's got the women's vote now ..."
Not quite sure what he said after that because, true to my X chromosome, everything above my shoulders just stopped working. Good thing too, because the readers who know me well can't believe that I didn't say anything to the guy ... smiling sweetly and mentioning that I heard one of the southern contingents would be wearing bright orange Virginia for Vaginas T-shirts at the convention this week.
Judging from the words and self-assured ignorant smile of the 40-something white male running the 12-items-or-less lane around 5 p.m. on Friday afternoon of a holiday weekend, we vote with our tits, not with our brains.
We will vote for McCain/Palin because we share issues like motherhood and PMS and do-these-pants-make-me-look-fat. It doesn't matter if we agree on issues like the economy, health care, education, the war in Iraq. We will unite because we understand bad hair days and bloating and that creepy soft handshake men give us so we won't be intimidated or hurt ...
And that's really OK because when I use my brain these days, it starts to hurt. It has to process information like there probably being a lot more men out there with the same thoughts and perceptions of that cashier (and I was in a blue state Stop & Shop, not a Piggly Wiggly or Winn Dixie!).
So unite ladies. The election has been decided for us. We can get back to our knitting circles and sip our cosmopolitans and talk about the stuff that really matters. Like that brownie recipe.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Save Tiger Stadium?
The City of Detroit is not known for making good decisions. Apparently, it has started (via contractor) the demolition of Tiger Stadium. Part of the fallout is a sappy column by Mitch Albom in the Detroit Free Press -- it's so cliche and formulaic that I'm not even giving you the link -- and a rush by a group called savetigerstadium.org to raise nearly $400,000 by Aug. 1.
Should Tiger Stadium be saved? I'm not sure. Detroit is full of vacant, crumbling buildings that are never turned into anything. It's also overrun with vacant, overgrown lots filled with rusty Stroh's cans and discarded tires. One person who not only makes a great case for saving the old park at the corner of Michigan and Trumbull is ladyinblue, but calls out the City Council. It's one of the best posts I've ever read about any subject and shows that there are people in Detroit who are intelligent, logical and care about the city. Refreshing after the headlines and youtube videos about the Roman circus that is Kwame and his council.
I don't know if I'll donate to save Tiger Stadium, but I know this person should run for mayor. Wow.
Should Tiger Stadium be saved? I'm not sure. Detroit is full of vacant, crumbling buildings that are never turned into anything. It's also overrun with vacant, overgrown lots filled with rusty Stroh's cans and discarded tires. One person who not only makes a great case for saving the old park at the corner of Michigan and Trumbull is ladyinblue, but calls out the City Council. It's one of the best posts I've ever read about any subject and shows that there are people in Detroit who are intelligent, logical and care about the city. Refreshing after the headlines and youtube videos about the Roman circus that is Kwame and his council.
I don't know if I'll donate to save Tiger Stadium, but I know this person should run for mayor. Wow.
Silent Statement, Loud and Clear
Just taking a minute to send you to a great article in the Los Angeles Times on John Carlos and Tommie Smith, the American sprinters more renowned for their Black Power raised fist statement on race than for the race they ran. (Smith won the 200 meters, Carlos was third).
I was 2 when they made their statement in Mexico City in 1968, so no, I didn't see it. But as a sports fan, a runner and eventually a sportswriter, I've been aware of it and parts of the story behind it for as long as I can remember.
In the story, writer David Davis quotes Sociologist Harry Edwards as saying "One hundred years from now, what will matter was that their gesture became the iconic image of a phenomenal era, when people from Muhammad Ali to Curt Flood changed the face, the image and the dynamics of American sport."
In a way, their fearlessness and courage was also part of an era that changed America. Sports have become such an integral part of our society. Smith and Carlos were among the men and women who paved the way for Michael Jordan and Tiger Woods, two men who not only transcend sports but also race.
At the same time, I hope Davis' article reminds readers of the fear and outrage that spread like a California wildfire 40 years ago, sparked by that simple, silent gesture. It's unimaginable today, but that doesn't mean the race for equality and justice is over. Too many people are still running.
What I ask is that readers remember the struggle, learn the history and teach the future. It's the only way we'll get any closer to the finish line.
I was 2 when they made their statement in Mexico City in 1968, so no, I didn't see it. But as a sports fan, a runner and eventually a sportswriter, I've been aware of it and parts of the story behind it for as long as I can remember.
In the story, writer David Davis quotes Sociologist Harry Edwards as saying "One hundred years from now, what will matter was that their gesture became the iconic image of a phenomenal era, when people from Muhammad Ali to Curt Flood changed the face, the image and the dynamics of American sport."
In a way, their fearlessness and courage was also part of an era that changed America. Sports have become such an integral part of our society. Smith and Carlos were among the men and women who paved the way for Michael Jordan and Tiger Woods, two men who not only transcend sports but also race.
At the same time, I hope Davis' article reminds readers of the fear and outrage that spread like a California wildfire 40 years ago, sparked by that simple, silent gesture. It's unimaginable today, but that doesn't mean the race for equality and justice is over. Too many people are still running.
What I ask is that readers remember the struggle, learn the history and teach the future. It's the only way we'll get any closer to the finish line.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Football, by George
The passing of George Carlin came much too soon. Reports say it was his heart, but I think there was so much genius pent up in that wiry little frame that his head just exploded. Just about everything he did was brilliant and almost always hysterically funny. This skit isn't necessarily his most amusing or even groundbreaking, as was the "7 words you can't say on TV." But it's my favorite. I learned football Saturday mornings in Michigan Stadium, or listening to the games on the radio. Each season, before the first kickoff, WJR radio 760 AM in Detroit played Carlin. Or was it CKLW? And yeah, you can listen to it in mixed company.
Cheers, George.
Cheers, George.
Monday, June 16, 2008
By the way ... pt. 1
- To answer a couple of questions, I found the keys the next day in my bag that I intentionally left at the office. No, it was never worth getting upset. By that point, it was out of my hands. Some days are like that.
- If you haven't done it yet, celebrate the 20th anniversary of Bull Durham (June 15, 1988). Drink a beer. Grow fungus in your shower shoes. Dance with a clown. Or just go to espn The Magazine. I linked to the first page, an interview with Ron Shelton. Day 2 is Tim Robbins and Day 3 (today) is Kevin Costner. I was three weeks out of college, had two weeks as a fulltime sportswriter under my (garter) belt. Annie Savoy was -- and still is -- inspiring. There were at least a half-dozen times this youth baseball season I was telling my daughter "Don't think, just pitch." (She would have thought I was nuts if I told her she was breathing out of the wrong eyelid). And at the batting cages on Friday, I wasn't pulling my hips out, but I was turning my hands over.
- Crash's answer to Annie's question "Well what DO you believe?" is still my favorite movie line(s), but "I Believe in the Church of Baseball" is right up there. In part because I can still remember the first time I went to Fenway Park -- walking up the ramp into the bleachers at twilight carrying the book (Sartre) I had to study for the next day's French 201 final. You exit that dingy walkway and the field just bursts into view, green and bright and beautiful. A true church of baseball.
- Finally, not everything I write will touch on Bull Durham. Honest. I just wanted to get something up tonight, meet my goal of posting at least once a week and hey, an anniversary's an anniversary. Check back soon.
-Michelle
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
The Smart One
There's this story by Judith Viorst you might have heard of -- "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day." At the end, the mother knowingly tells Alexander, "Some days are like that ..."
And it's true. Some days are like that. Fortunately, the older you get, the easier it is to laugh at things. It is for me anyway.
So this is dedicated to my brother and sister, who have for years had to hear about how how I am the ________. (Smart, logical, steady, stable, sensible) -- pick one and fill in the blank. When we were kids, and my girlfriends played "Charlie's Angels," I had to be Sabrina.
Every.
Freakin'.
Time.
My day just goes to show that Abraham Lincoln was right: "You can fool some of the people all of the time, and all of the people some of the time, but you can not fool all of the people all of the time."
Here's the rundown:
Morning: Got the kids to the bus on time, even remember the suntan lotion since they would be outside all day. As we're applying the foul stuff, my daughter says "I see London, I see France. I see Mommy's underpants. They have polka dots." Which apparently is pretty damn funny to a 9-year-old. Fortunately the four neighbor boys who share the stop weren't there yet.
So the kids get on the bus and I go home and change my underpants to something less obvious through off-white pants, gather my bags and walk out the door to catch a train. Except as soon as the door closed, I realized I didn't have my keys. And I couldn't get to the spare. And all the doors and windows were locked, except for one.
I get the window open, try to move the things I'll have to climb over and proceed to fold my 5-foot, 7-inch frame through a 26x17 inch opening. I'll tell you this: I ain't as flexible as I used to be. Back in the house, I have to change my pants, which did not fair well whilst caressing the dirty window frame, grab the keys and make the train with a couple of minutes to spare.
Noon (Actually, late afternoon): Three current and two former co-workers are going to grab a refreshing beverage and catch up for a bit before I have to catch the outbound train, which is a brisk 17-minute walk from the office. I check my friend's watch at 6, and figure I have about 20 minutes before I have to head out for the 6:35 Greenbush. It's about 5 minutes fast she says. So at 6:20 watch-time, I gather my bag, give the ladies some money and check my phone. No messages. No missed calls. But it's 6:27. I lost 12 minutes in 30 seconds. So now I've basically missed my train and the last two innings of a Little League game. But hey, I missed my train, which is as good a reason as any to have another sangria and hang with the ladies for an hour.
Night: Didn't have any problem making the 8:25, and there was my car in the almost-empty, not-very-well-lit parking lot. But whether it was karma, the circle of life or just because some days are like that, my keys were nowhere to be found. No car keys. No house keys. No window to climb through and mess up my pants.
I'm hoping they're in the bag I left at work. Or on my desk under the piles of ad schedules and media kits. Can't find out until tomorrow because my key to the office is also among the missing.
And yup, it's an inconvenience, a pain in the ass and basically pretty stupid, especially from someone known for doing things right and being somewhat top heavy when it comes to common sense.
At the same time, taken all together in one day, it's pretty dang funny. Especially when you realize some days are like that.
And it's true. Some days are like that. Fortunately, the older you get, the easier it is to laugh at things. It is for me anyway.
So this is dedicated to my brother and sister, who have for years had to hear about how how I am the ________. (Smart, logical, steady, stable, sensible) -- pick one and fill in the blank. When we were kids, and my girlfriends played "Charlie's Angels," I had to be Sabrina.
Every.
Freakin'.
Time.
My day just goes to show that Abraham Lincoln was right: "You can fool some of the people all of the time, and all of the people some of the time, but you can not fool all of the people all of the time."
Here's the rundown:
Morning: Got the kids to the bus on time, even remember the suntan lotion since they would be outside all day. As we're applying the foul stuff, my daughter says "I see London, I see France. I see Mommy's underpants. They have polka dots." Which apparently is pretty damn funny to a 9-year-old. Fortunately the four neighbor boys who share the stop weren't there yet.
So the kids get on the bus and I go home and change my underpants to something less obvious through off-white pants, gather my bags and walk out the door to catch a train. Except as soon as the door closed, I realized I didn't have my keys. And I couldn't get to the spare. And all the doors and windows were locked, except for one.
I get the window open, try to move the things I'll have to climb over and proceed to fold my 5-foot, 7-inch frame through a 26x17 inch opening. I'll tell you this: I ain't as flexible as I used to be. Back in the house, I have to change my pants, which did not fair well whilst caressing the dirty window frame, grab the keys and make the train with a couple of minutes to spare.
Noon (Actually, late afternoon): Three current and two former co-workers are going to grab a refreshing beverage and catch up for a bit before I have to catch the outbound train, which is a brisk 17-minute walk from the office. I check my friend's watch at 6, and figure I have about 20 minutes before I have to head out for the 6:35 Greenbush. It's about 5 minutes fast she says. So at 6:20 watch-time, I gather my bag, give the ladies some money and check my phone. No messages. No missed calls. But it's 6:27. I lost 12 minutes in 30 seconds. So now I've basically missed my train and the last two innings of a Little League game. But hey, I missed my train, which is as good a reason as any to have another sangria and hang with the ladies for an hour.
Night: Didn't have any problem making the 8:25, and there was my car in the almost-empty, not-very-well-lit parking lot. But whether it was karma, the circle of life or just because some days are like that, my keys were nowhere to be found. No car keys. No house keys. No window to climb through and mess up my pants.
I'm hoping they're in the bag I left at work. Or on my desk under the piles of ad schedules and media kits. Can't find out until tomorrow because my key to the office is also among the missing.
And yup, it's an inconvenience, a pain in the ass and basically pretty stupid, especially from someone known for doing things right and being somewhat top heavy when it comes to common sense.
At the same time, taken all together in one day, it's pretty dang funny. Especially when you realize some days are like that.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Sing the Body Electric
Maybe that should be Sing the Body Digital -- But Walt Whitman was way before digital. For that matter, electricity was pretty new in his day. Uh, let's just say the man was way before his time.
"What position did he play?" "You could say he pitched for the Cosmic All-Stars."
I have found that I can link just about any thought or any situation back to the movie "Bull Durham." (Try me! Or try it yourself!) And of course, early on, when Annie asks Eppie Calvin to stay the night, it's so she can read him poetry. Whitman. "I sing the body electric ..." The next morning, his nickname's Nuke, because reading poetry is more tiring than, well, you know. And if you read the poem, you know why. It's 19th century erotica.
You could look it up.
But I digress. In my house, we sing -- electric, digital, a capella, too loud, whether or not we know the words. In my car alone, I could give the Solid Gold Dancers a run for their lame (read: la-may). And now and then, it's caught on tape. My kids make me laugh every day and today I'm sharing. It's one of those things they'll point to in therapy in a few years, but I like it. In this video, they pay homage to the Go-Betweens with "Surfin' Magazines."
"What position did he play?" "You could say he pitched for the Cosmic All-Stars."
I have found that I can link just about any thought or any situation back to the movie "Bull Durham." (Try me! Or try it yourself!) And of course, early on, when Annie asks Eppie Calvin to stay the night, it's so she can read him poetry. Whitman. "I sing the body electric ..." The next morning, his nickname's Nuke, because reading poetry is more tiring than, well, you know. And if you read the poem, you know why. It's 19th century erotica.
You could look it up.
But I digress. In my house, we sing -- electric, digital, a capella, too loud, whether or not we know the words. In my car alone, I could give the Solid Gold Dancers a run for their lame (read: la-may). And now and then, it's caught on tape. My kids make me laugh every day and today I'm sharing. It's one of those things they'll point to in therapy in a few years, but I like it. In this video, they pay homage to the Go-Betweens with "Surfin' Magazines."
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Debate as Sport
Once upon a time ...
Back in the day ...
In a previous life ...
However you want to say it I used to officially be a journalist. Made a little career change, but I still have a lot to say, whether anyone wants to hear it or not. And as I'm finding out, being a reporter (or, to the chagrin of my third-grader, an editor) something that stays in your blood probably until you're dead and gone. (This is currently an assumption on my part and not a theory I'm quite ready to test.)
I like to debate. I have a lot to say and I still want to write. Oh, and there's that competition thing -- whether it's running a race, playing Scrabble, or my opinion vs. yours. I've been meaning to do this for months and months, but freeplaysolitaire kept getting in the way. So I finally got off my ass and started this blog.
So when I have something to say -- whether or not a Big Brown triple crown should have an asterisk next to it, why college football in New England is a farce, how McCain, Clinton and Obama all make me want to move to Canada, career changes at age 40 or just things that make me laugh -- you'll find it here.
That is, when I can pull myself away from freeplaysolitaire.
-Michelle
Back in the day ...
In a previous life ...
However you want to say it I used to officially be a journalist. Made a little career change, but I still have a lot to say, whether anyone wants to hear it or not. And as I'm finding out, being a reporter (or, to the chagrin of my third-grader, an editor) something that stays in your blood probably until you're dead and gone. (This is currently an assumption on my part and not a theory I'm quite ready to test.)
I like to debate. I have a lot to say and I still want to write. Oh, and there's that competition thing -- whether it's running a race, playing Scrabble, or my opinion vs. yours. I've been meaning to do this for months and months, but freeplaysolitaire kept getting in the way. So I finally got off my ass and started this blog.
So when I have something to say -- whether or not a Big Brown triple crown should have an asterisk next to it, why college football in New England is a farce, how McCain, Clinton and Obama all make me want to move to Canada, career changes at age 40 or just things that make me laugh -- you'll find it here.
That is, when I can pull myself away from freeplaysolitaire.
-Michelle
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