Halloween 2007

(More Notes: First, yes, I'm going to keep appending to this post. I like having my 31st post be on Halloween. Now: Helicopters are still flying over Franklin street (about 2 miles north of my house). Halloween on Franklin Street has just gotten utterly crazy: Virtually no one is actually from Chapel Hill, lots of people don't dress up, they just go to people watch, there's NO creativity anymore, and there are Park-n-Ride buses to shuttle you there. NO fun anymore.)

(Ed.Note -- after I published this the first time I realized it was my 31st post in October. How serendipitous!)

I LOVE HALLOWEEN!!!! Don't get me wrong, Christmas is very special, as is Easter, and Thanksgiving is great. Birthdays, Mother's Day, Earth Day, all good. Memorial Day, Veteran's Day, Labor Day, Presidents Day, MLK Day, all very important.

But I LOVE Halloween. The decorating, the dressing up, the candy, all of it.

So, without further ado, some images from Halloween 2007:

The Before Picture (gotta love bones and tombstones in the den)


Count Elvis-cula and The Mad Scientist:


The Haunted Battlefield


Pottery Barn says skeletons are VERY big this year


The Graveyard, with fog from my new fog machine!


Count Elvis-cula with the haunted car (and y'all thought Velvet Elvises were scary)


The Mad Scientist with the haunted car


Who ARE those two?


Hmm, looks like someone lost his head. And his hand.....


The Haunted Battlefield by Night


DON'T try to break into my grave. I'll cut your stinkin' hand off, I will....


And now, of course, it's my favorite part of Halloween: Unwinding on the stoop with a glass of red wine while I pick out my favorites from the Candy Cauldron. Heath Bars and red wine ROCK.

Hope everyone had a happy and haunted Halloween!

Oh, man! How far away is March?

Call me slow, but it's only just sunk in that baseball is over! I was so excited that Boston won the World Series that I didn't even think about the fact that baseball is over!

Now, don't get the idea that I'm some idealist viewing the sporting world through rose-colored glasses. Professional baseball has done itself major damage over the past couple of decades, what with strikes, angry players, angry managers, steroids, etc. I have no illusions about the sport or the atheletes. You won't catch me saying "Say it ain't so, Joe!" because, sadly, I'm just not that surprised by anything that atheletes do or say. They've typically been over paid and under-disciplined most of their lives.

But.

I love baseball. I LOVE baseball. I love the way the gloves smell when you put neet oil on them in the fall. I love going to the stadium on a warm summer night, sipping a beer and watching a game. I love watching 6-year-olds play with the grass instead of fielding the ball when they play right field. I love it when the 8 year olds you've been coaching for months finally, FINALLY get their glove on the ground, scoop up the ball, and without thinking throw to first for the out. I love the way the bat (wooden or aluminium) sounds on a good hit. And I miss it when it's gone.

For the record, my baseball year goes something like this:

February/March -- start throwing with my kids, getting ready for their rec-league seasons
March -- Rec League baseball starts; I coach my daughter's team and watch my son's. The college season has started, too, so I get to watch Carolina when I can.
April -- fantasize about taking my son to Fenway for Opening Day as a combined birthday present one year.
May -- Rec League is winding down, as is the college game. Final UNC games, ACC Tournament, NCAAs, all leading to:
June -- the College World Series! One of the greatest sports events of all time. Another fantasy is to take a month off of work, drive my kids to Omaha, watch as many games as we can, then drive back.
July -- Catch some farm league games (with above-mentioned beer) or USA baseball. Cheap tickets, great seats, and the players love to sign autographs.
August -- the Little League World Series! Another of the greatest sports events of all times, and another fantasy-destination. 11 and 12 year old boys playing baseball with all the passion and intensity that kids that age can muster (which is a lot). And with a heck of a lot of skill, too!

And then I kind of go on hiatus, until the playoffs. It's not that I don't like pro baseball, but it's significantly more complicated than the Rec League, Little League or college game. There are personalities, salaries and scandals to deal with. I like it....but still.

Plus, in August school starts, football starts, and life gets busier. Baseball is definitely a lazy, summertime sport.

Then October rolls around, and the World Series, and I pick back up, for a few-weeks-long last gasp. And now it's over, and I'll have to wait around till March.

Good thing basketball season is coming up and the Heels are a pre-season favorite!

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

GO RED SOX!!!!!!

Why do I do this?

OK, someone tell my why at age 40 I haven't managed to stop over-scheduling myself? On tap for today:

• 7:45 am: Get to church for rehearsal before the early service (my handbell choir was ringing). We did OK during rehearsal, outstanding in the early service, which, of course, meant we screwed up the second service. Sigh. No one else seemed to notice, though, which is good. I did manage to eat breakfast and read the Sunday N&O between services.
• 12:30 pm: Get home from church. This gives me an hour before I need to be anywhere else, and meant that I could watch the first 30 minutes of the Panthers-Indianapolis game. However, I spend that hour trying to get my VPN to play nicely with my router, which he is absolutely bound and determined NOT to do . I rebooted my computer, reset the router, stopped and started the modem, then repeated. Several times. Finally, at
• 1:20 pm: I ran to my office to do the first part of what I needed to do there. It (of course) took me longer than I expected, but ifnally I was able to leave at
• 1:45 pm: so that I could scoot up the road to Playmakers where I had a ticket to Crimes of the Heart (excellent performance!). Luckily I had my ticket, and I even managed to have 2 minutes or so to go to the bathroom and was still able to get to my seat in plenty of time.

There's nothing like a 2.5 hour play to let you catch your breath. By the time I got out the Panthers had gotten decimated by Indianapolis (nearly literally -- 30 something to 7), and my blood pressure was back down to it's normal range. I got home and a quick search on google told me that I probably needed to upgrade the firmware for my router. So I did that while I ate dinner (and let me just say, upgrading firmware is nowhere NEAR as much fun as it sounds!), and was FINALLY able to get to my work computer and finish up all my work stuff.

Yay. But, oh, my word, should a Sunday REALLY be this jam packed? It's my fault -- I knew I was ringing this Sunday, but still got Playmakers tickets. I could've done this work yesterday, but put it off until today. When am I going to learn to spread the fun out?!?

Was Vernon Misunderstood?

WARNING!!!!! SPOILER INFO!!!!! IF YOU HAVEN'T READ ALL 7 HARRY POTTER BOOKS, AND YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW ANY SECRETS, STOP READING NOW!!!!!!



OK, don't say I didn't warn you.....


This is something that's been percolating in my brain for quite sometime. And, yes, this is my third post of the day, and yes, the other two are on VASTLY different subjects. I can't help if if I have catholic (with a little c) interests.

So, having finished all 7 Harry Potter books, and having had, now, several months to ruminate on them, I'm beginning to think that perhaps Vernon Dursley may be the second, or at least third, most misunderstood character in the series (Snape is obviously the first, I'd not fight too hard if anyone wanted to say Neville was second).

What? you say? But you HATE Vernon! We ALL hate Vernon! He's just downright mean, and ENJOYS being mean! Look at what he did to Harry! Look at what he did to his own son!

Yes, I know. And I admit that one of my fondest HP fantasies is that at some point in the post-You-Know-Who world Petunia finally tells Vernon to shove it up his You-Know-Where, and she and Dudley actually form a relationship of sorts with Harry. I love the mental image of Petunia, Dudley, Teddy Tonks, Victoire, and Harry,Ginny and clan all pulling Christmas-crackers around a huge table in a Burrow-like house!

But back to Vernon. I'm not so sure that the man got a fair shake. Let's think about this from his point of view for a moment.

At some point in his life, probably in his mid to late 20s, he meets Petunia, and they go through whatever courtship they go through. Given what we've seen of him, I'd guess it was a fairly traditional type deal. He was probably bluff and hearty, and she probably twittered a lot. Even assuming that the elder Evanses were already dead, at some point Vernon and Petunia would've had to have talked about their families. He would've introduced her to Marge (and Ripper!) and she would've told him....She would've told him what about Lily?

I think the hurt that Petunia suffered was still too fresh for her to have been objective when she initally met Vernon. After all, she was only a few years older than Lily, so assuming that she and Vernon met, courted, married and had Dudley during her late teens/early twenties (as they had to, for Dudley to be the same age as Harry), Lily might very well have still been at Hogwarts. I believe that the seve years Lily spent at Hogwarts were an unbearable burden to Petunia. She'd had to watch Lily perform her (somewhat) unintentional magic when they were younger, she'd seen Lily be invited to Hogwarts, she'd been REFUSED by Dumbledore (DUMBLEDORE! Who let almost ANYONE in....provided they had promise), and then she had to watch for seven years as Lily learned everything that Lily had been denied.

I don't think Petunia could possibly remain objective during that. I love my sister, and I delight in our complementary selves (she cooks, I bake) but I have to admit, if she went to the Culinary Institute to learn to be a pastry chef, the jealousy would eat at me. Even at 40 -- at 11, it would've killed me. And if I had to eat all her delightful little pastries when she came home on holiday, it would be unbearable.

So, I think that by the time Vernon met Petunia, she was nearly mad with jealousy, and it had festered to the point that she couldn't even remember the relationship she had once had with her sister.

OK, fine, you say, but how does that absolve Vernon? Stick with me for a moment longer...

Vernon never knew Lily, until after he saw her through Petunia's eyes. I think that the inital description and impression of Lily that Petunia gave to Vernon colored the entirety of his feelings towards Lily, and by extension towards Harry. I think that the initial impression he was given was of a girl who'd been given everything, who was, perhaps, a little arrogant, and who had hurt Petunia immeasurably.

Now, if I were Vernon, and I were a young, twenty-something male who'd just fallen in love with with a young lady, I know how I'd react to someone who had hurt her to such a degree. I'd hate them. Flat out. No questions asked, no holds barred. I'd consider it my duty to shield the object of my affection from the hurt.

Now, that being said, I do think that Vernon was, shall we say, a bit simple. Once he had hold of an idea ("The Potters are odd, and we must ignore them"), he never re-examined it to see if there was a flaw. In this, I don't think we can cut him much slack. We all make snap judgements, but hopefully most of us can go back and re-form those judgements if further evidence holds them to be wrong. I don't think Vernon had that capacity, and I'll not try to.

But I still think that he's gotten a bit of a raw deal. Keep in mind, this was Petunia's family. Vernon was an outsider, taking his cues from Petunia. No, for the record, I think that Petunia began re-working her feelings towards Lily adn Harry at some point, probably after the dementors attacked Dudley, but possibly beforehand. But regardless of what Petunia might've felt after Lily died, regardless of what she might've felt after Voldemort came back, regardless of what she might have felt seeing Harry every day for 10 or 15 or 17 years; Harry, who looked just like his father....except he had his mother's eyes, she never, NEVER expressed those feelings to Vernon. The closest she got was once in Order of the Phoenix, when she insisted that Harry would have to stay, and briefly in Deathly Hallows, when she seems to want to say something more to Harry before the Dursleys leave Number 4 Privet Drive.

Now, it would take a whole 'nother post to think about WHY she didn't talk to Vernon about her feelings, whether they were changing or not. But, I think it's safe to say that she didn't. If we accept that, then I don't know that we can necessarily blame Vernon. You can't deal with what you don't know.

Now, again, I'm not saying Vernon ought to be getting the Muggle-Wizard Relations award. He's still a simple, shallow person who really only wants to deal with what he can comprehend, and magic is SO far beyond his comprehension it's not even funny. But I don't think we know the entire story of Vernon, and I think it's possible that he's been cut a raw deal.

Comments from my fellow Harry Potter geeks out there?

Like mother like daughter.....

One of the downsides of 3 days of rain is that it makes tile floors very, VERY slippery.

Grace was running for the elevator in her father's office Friday night, slipped on the tile, and cracked her chin open.

They started out towards the hospital, but her Dad decided to call the pediatrician on the way, and luckily they have urgent care hours. A little glue later (no lie) and all was well.

The funny thing is that I used to crack my chin open all the time. I still have scars on my chin from the stiches (no skin-glue in my day). Today Grace spent the afternoon with me, so we got to compare chins --- she was impressed with my scars!

Oh, puh-LEASE!

OK, Michelle Porter, are you listening to yourself? I mean REALLY listening to yourself? (disclaimer: I typically don't use my blog for either public outing or flogging; it's just not fair. So, if Michelle Porter happens to be reading this at some point and wants to respond, by all means do so.)

Who is Michelle Porter, you ask? She, according to today's N&O, serves on the landscape committee of a local (Raleigh) homeowner's association. A resident in that neighborhood asked permission to (gasp) plant Bermuda grass rather than fescue. For the record, fescue requires a lot of watering in hot weather (roughly an inch per month), while Bermuda doesn't. While theoretically fescue is an annual, because of the summer's here, it's essentially treated as a perrennial; re-seeding is encouraged, if not required. The homeowner in question was tired of a. having high water bills during the summer watering season, b. tired of his grass dying during droughts, and c. felt like he wasn't exactly making the best use of a limited resource.

The response from the Homeowner's Association? A resounding NO. As Ms. Porter put it, "In a subdivision with 1,100 homes, you have to make a call to have one [type of grass] or the other. You can't have both both because of the cross-contamination with the seeds."

Again, for the record, Bermuda is a fairly aggressive grass -- it spreads easily, and will, in fact, spread into an area of fescue.

OK, fine. Here's my question: WHY IN GOD'S NAME DO WE CARE ABOUT THIS?!?!?!?!? It's GRASS for heaven's sake! It's supposed to be there to keep our front yards from washing away in the rain (not that we've had any), to play on, to pull out leaves and make whistles from them, to lie on and watch the stars, to run barefoot through. Grass should not be a status symbol.

If you're so emotionally bound up with your landscaping (LANDSCAPING!) that you can't allow it to go play with the neighbor's grass there may be something wrong.

Let me re-iterate for those of you who may not live in the Triangle. The entire state of North Carolina is in the worst drought since weather records have been kept. Precipitation levels are about 8 inches below where we normally are (and that's AFTER 3 straight days of rain). Durham will run out of water by Christmas. Water rates may go up to 8, 10, 20 dollars per thousand gallons, depending on one's consumption (mine are now about 4 bucks per thousand gallons). WE ARE RUNNING OUT OF WATER.

But we can't plant a drought-resistant, low-maintence, cheap grass in our yards, 'cause it might go visit the neighbors.

Yeah, that makes sense.

It's the little things

Recap of my week: On Monday I got tossed no less than three projects that needed to be completed by, oh, let's see, TODAY! All of which required interacting with other groups. Now let me just say, my managment chain is incredibly flexible and easy to work with, and they have a VERY realistic view of what's required in our work. And all the groups I had to work with are good groups too. But anytime there's a tight deadline, life gets stressful, and anytime a project requires more than one person, it gets more complicated. So, work was a frazzly sort of place this week.

Last night was the celebrations for the people at the hospital celebrating either a 5 or 10 year anniversary. I actually hit 10 years last December, but because of how the state calculates retiment, they consider that I started in January of '97, so this was my 10 year anniversary. Kathy and I went to the party last night, and it was a blast -- there was wine, beer, heavy hors d'ouevres, music, disco balls, and glow-necklaces! Plus, I got a cool little 10 year badge decoration doo-hickey that fit's on my badge holder, AND a $50 gift certificate from the Chapel Hill-Carrboro Chamber of Commerce, so it's good nearly anywhere in Chapel Hill.

Now, that certainly didn't make my unexpected projects go away, but boy did it help me maintain a sense of perspective! Oh, and because those other groups I mentioned jumped in, I got everything done today, it'll all go into production by Sunday evening, so I got to leave work on time tonight, and got my toes done and then had a lovely dinner with Kathy!

It's always nice when a week that seems to be starting off on the wrong foot (if weeks can have feet) turns out nicely after all!

Ouch.....

I just got a hair caught behind my contact. Not a little piece of fuzz, mind you, but a full blown hair. And not just in my eye, but BEHIND MY CONTACT.

Ouch. Or, as Grace would say, "OWIEEEE! OWIEE OWIEE OWIEE!"

Adrianne at this point would tell me to go get Lasik surgery, but I think the only thing that oogs me out more than having to pull a hair out from behind my contact is the thought of people cutting on my eye, no matter what they're using!

I love my bells

And what I love best about my bells is that they're BIG!

Well, actually I love the tone and the sound of them. But it cracks me up when people come up to me after we ring somewhere and say "How do you lift those things!" or, "How much do those weigh!"

I'm getting my callouses back -- I get them on the first knuckles of my thumbs and index fingers, and sometimes on the second.

For the record, my bells weigh anywhere from 8 pounds, 4 ounces to 3 pounds, so it's not like I'm getting callouses from dinky little 8 oz bells......

Rain part 2

OK, lest y'all out in Blog-Land think I'm nuts, since my last post (rhapsodizing about rain):

• My Dad sent out an email letting everyone know that it's raining at his place
• The hallways of my office are full of people talking about rain, finding a window to look at the rain, or hoping that the rain won't stop
• People are singing about the rain (though not Singing In the Rain yet...)

It's not just me! This drought stinks, and we're all terribly excited about the rain.

It's Raining, It's Pouring...

And no, I'm not snoring.

But it's raining!!!!! Actual rain! Honest-to-God drops of moisture falling from the sky! The leaves are wet, there are raindrops on my window, IT'S RAINING!!!!!

And before you think I'm a total nutcase, the entire state of North Carolina is in the middle of the worst drought since....well, pretty much since anyone can remember. We haven't had significant rain since about June; many lakes are at less than half full, and some cities have less than a three month supply of water left. They've already banned outdoor watering pretty much everywhere, including for new sod, lots of people are taking "ship showers" (get wet, turn off the water, wash, rinse) and they're talking about other, more drastic measures. Like, pick what you want to wash today, your body or your dishes? Do you REALLY need to flush that toilet? So, yeah, the rain is a really good thing.

Now, the rain today won't end the drought -- it would take a couple of decent sized tropical storms to do that (we're about 10 inches down for the year). But to get a nice little rainfall as we're moving into the dry season gives an awful lot of people hope.

Plus, it means that the humidity, which was at approximately 900% this morning, should break!

Don't Be Stupid!

It's been awhile since I've been on a rant about sportcasters; usually I save it for college basketball season (give me Woody over Vitale any day of the week, don't even get me STARTED on Billy Packer, and if I have to hear Clark Kellogg say "you can't coach tall" again I'll just cry). But every now and then you have to just look at the television and scream, "HEY! DON'T BE STUPID!"

I'm watching Indianapolis beat up on Jacksonville; supposedly The Who was the halftime show. I say supposedly because The sportscasters never actually SHOWED us The Who, they just told us they were the halftime show. Unfortunately, the music that we could hear in the background was......Tom Petty. Yep, Tom Petty, "Running Down a Dream".

Now I like Mr. Petty as much as the next guy, maybe even better, and I'm no Who fanatic, despite the fact that they've appeared in my Blog twice in the past month or so. But if you're going to make the halftime show part of your schtick, it might be a good idea to make sure that they're actually playing at that point.

Hmph. The world would be SUCH a better place if they'd just put me in charge.

But, on a brighter note, Jacksonville is now in scoring position. Doubt they'll come back to win, but perhaps they'll score.....

Oh, go take a hike

Peter, Grace and I took a hike today on the Piedmont Nature Trails at the NC Botanical Garden. It's a nice little nature trail -- there's a short loop, with a self-guided nature walk, and a longer loop. If you hike the two together, which we did, it's a smidge over a mile.

The kids basically had a good time, except for the spur we took that overlooks a water treatment plant. They weren't fond of the smell!

On the second half of the hike, Grace turned into a tour-guide extrordinairre. She took the lead, and pointed out every single root and rock, lest Peter or I trip over them. She also turned around periodically and admonished us to stay on the trail (unless we needed to use the bathroom), and that anything we picked up along the way would have to stay in the Botanical Gardens.

After our hike, we went into the gardens briefly to use the restroom (Peter and I were both too scared of Grace to go off the trail!), then meandered through the herb garden. It's the Sculpture At the Garden show right now (local sculptors exhibit in the Garden), which I wanted to see, but Peter and Grace were "STARVING", so we came home for snacks. Maybe next weekend......

ALCS Update

Boston now leads 10-1 in the top of the 5th. For the record, here's my prediction, which I actually made BEFORE game 5. Honest. You can ask Peter. Anyway, I say the ALCS will go to 7 games, but the Rockies will sweep whoever wins.

Peter says the ALCS will go to 7 games, Boston will win and then will win the World Series in 6 games.

A Busy Saturday

A busy Saturday today. First of all, we were all a little slow to get going this morning, due to a VERY late night at the State Fair last night. We finally got going, though, and were in plenty of time to get Peter to the football field by 9:15 (for a 10:30 game, mind you). It was a great game: Peter was one of the captains for the game, so he got to go out for the coin flip. He played Tight End, and did well, but I had to leave early to take Grace to her "skills evaluation" for basketball, which was at noon back near our house, and, incidentally, about as far away from Peter's football game as you can get. After I dropped her off, I scooted back to Peter's game just in time to see the final 11 seconds, but missing the tremendous block he made in the 2nd half. Hmph.

When Peter's game was over he and I stuck around a little bit so he could hang out with his friends Blake and Anna Grace, while Anna Grace's little brothers played THEIR football game. Then we scooted BACK across town to get Grace, stopping off to get lunch at Wendy's on the way. I felt a little like the guy in the Volvo commercial a few years ago driving back and forth between a swim meet and a soccer game.....

Anyway, after Grace's skills evaluation was done, we went home, ate a quick lunch, Peter changed out of his pads, then we left AGAIN to go try to catch part of the Carolina Field Hockey game. One of Peter and Grace's babysitters this summer is a senior on the team, so we've been meaning to go see her play. This was their last home game, so it was pretty much now or never. The team was giving a free clinic after the game; Peter and Grace got their own private clinic with Xan!

Then, we went to the grocery store (avoiding the Walk for Education, also this weekend, which we were blowing off), then finally made it home and got the groceries unloaded about 4:30. At which point I found the Miami-Florida State game on TV, kicked off my shoes, and crashed on the couch for an hour!

Now Grace is in bed and Peter and I are watching the Boston-Cleveland game. Boston leads 5-1. GO RED SOX!!!!!

2007 State Fair

Tonight was the night that Peter, Grace and I went to the 2007 State Fair. We've been every year since Peter was 18 months, including the year Grace was born when she and I spent most of the Fair finding quiet places to sit so that I could nurse her.

This year I took a half day off of work, and had the kids take the bus home. We got on the road about 3:30, and after fighting Friday rush hour traffic got to the Fair about 4:30.

They were predicting rain Friday night; it wound up being a beautiful night, and remarkably uncrowded. The weather must've scared away the faint of heart!

My children whole-heartedly embrace tradition, particularly at the Fair. We always park in the same (free) parking lot. We always enter the Fair by the same gate. And this year, when we were walking in and I asked them what they wanted to do first, Peter looked at me as if I were insane and said, "HUSHPUPPIES!!! Are you crazy, woman!?!?! HUSHPUPPIES!!!!" Which of course, translates to, "Oh, Mother, you darling woman who gave birth to me, how can you have forgotten that we always get hushpuppies from the mill by the entrance?" So, for the first couple of hours at the Fair, we did the following:

• Free Hushpuppies


• Trip to the bathroom (a tradition, according to Peter. Common sense, according to me)


• A pony ride (even though Peter's legs are getting so long that they nearly drag the ground


• Ate Roasted Corn (and had lemonade)


• Saw the prize veggies, prize livestock, and honey bee exhibits


• Milked a cow and drank NCSU milk. Or at least Grace did. Peter asked for Carolina milk


• Rode rides


• Bought Mt. Olive pickles and got Pickle Stickers and Democrat Stickers


• Weighed Peter and Grace on an official NC Department of Standards scale (Peter weighs 71.3 pounds, Grace 51.6)

By this time, Peter's friend Blake and his Dad had arrived at the Fair. We'd made plans to meet up with them, so we found them, and then proceeded to do all THEIR Fair traditions, some of which we'll happily take on as our own. We did the Scavenger Hunt in the Agriculture building and got free T-Shirts, looked at the craft and hobby exhibits, got more stickers (Highway Patrol, Wake Co. Sherrif) rode more rides, played games, and ate! Peter and I got Ham Biscuits from the Cary Methodist Church kiosk, we had Fried Candy Bars (Three Musketeers for Peter, Milky Way for Grace), and Grace got a Caramel Apple. Peter actually won at a Fair Game, so he came home with a stuffed animal.

By the time the fireworks ended it was after 10 and we were about done. After a quick stop for a corn dog (Grace) and Tractor Ice Cream (churned in a machine run by a tractor engine....) we made a final bathroom stop (also a tradition) and then headed for home.

One thing that I love about the Fair is that you can see things that you just don't see everywhere, so I'll leave with these pictures:

• Horse Statues painted with Fair scenes


• A gaggle of piglets fast asleep


• NCAA licensed milk


• Goats playing King of the Mountain


• A likeness of Abraham Lincoln and a Chinese Dragon, made from apples



• A pot-bellied pig who paints (and SELLS his artwork!)



• A nativity scene made from beeswax

The Voices are Talking (in the ether)

but they're using a foreign language!!!!!

Last night I had some stuff for work to do at home, so when I left work, I left my work computer, including my IM sessions, running. As it turns out, my VPN and remote desktop tool were being annoying and difficult last night, so I never was able to get my work done, nor was I able to connect to my work computer at home.

When I got back in to work this morning, I found this Instant Message waiting for me:

[08:07] duydung3: ko vao duoc hom thu [Offline Message (Fri Oct 19 04:11:05 2007)]

Not only do I not know who duydung3 is, I have no idea what "ko vao duoc hom thu" means, or even what language it is! Though, I'd guess Southeast Asian -- Vietnamese, Cambodian, etc.

OK, memo to the voices in the ether: If you're going to communicate with me, PLEASE use a language that I can speak, or at least identify so I can use babelfish to interpret it!

Silly Boy!

Background to this story: When Peter outgrows his clothes, we pass them down to my friend Cindi, who has two boys younger than Peter. On the one hand, Peter really enjoys this and likes looking in the boys' closets when we visit and seeing what clothes used to be his. On the other hand, I periodically have to lay down the law when a favorite gets too small, and force him to give it away. We usually have a bag of clothes in Peter's room, and when we discover something that's too small, we fold it up and put it in the bag.

OK, so Cindi was visiting last weekend, so she was going to take the current bag home with her. I remembered that there was a pair of Carolina wind pants in the dirty clothes that are at least 2 inches too short for Peter -- as a matter of fact, they're quickly becoming capris! They were supposed to go last winter, but Peter loves them and wouldn't let them go. Cindi said she didn't mind having to wash them, and I figured that with Peter out of the house, it was a perfect time to sneak the pants out! So they went in the bag, and we went off to the UNC-USC game.

When we got home from the game, Cindi and my other friend Lynn scooted on off to Charlotte. I was puttering around the house, and suddenly noticed the Carolina pants on my sewing box. I thought to myself, "Why on earth did Cindi put these on my sewing box? And now she's forgotten them!" Then I noticed the note: "Please don't give these away -- Peter." The kids had come over with Jeff to get church clothes, and Peter had seen the pants in the bag, pulled them out and hidden them.

All of which would be silly enough on its own. This morning, though, Grace was wearing her "It's my brother's fault!" shirt. The clothes bag has the "I didn't do it!" shirt that Peter had, so I teased Grace and told her she'd have to send her shirt to Cindi's younger son. She agreed, but pouted a bit. At which point her loving brother, the boy who dug out his man-pris and hid them, piped up, "Grace! It's just a shirt for goodness sakes!"

Meeting Haiku

meetings. circular
discussions, going nowhere.
why must I be here?

I may be in love.....

I just have the BEST chocolate I've had in a long time. Vosges Haut Chocolate, I had their mini Naga Bar -- milk chocolate with sweet Indian curry powder and coconut flakes.

Oh, my God, I'm ready to move to wherever these people are, and stay for the rest of my life. Forget job, forget kids, I have found Chocolate Nirvana.

By the way, I hope everyone likes chocolate, because this may be what y'all are getting for Christmas!

Game Day

Cindi and Lynn (friends from college) drove up from Charlotte today to go to the South Carolina game. It was a fun day. They got in around 11, and we headed up to Franklin Street where, apparently, EVERY available parking space was taken. There should be a rule that the opposing team doesn't get to park until two hours before game time. We had to drive around a bit, but eventually we got a spot.

We went to Carolina Brewery to get a beer, and wound up ordering Nachos since Chapel Hill's open container laws don't allow you to order a drink at at sidewalk table without ordering food, too. Then we strolled down Franklin Street so that Cindi and Lynn could get Carolina goodies and I could get cash. Then to Top of the Hill for more beer!

Then, once Cindi got her Vanilla Coke from Suttons, it was time to head to Kenan. A brief stop at the Old Well for a photo op, then we joined the throngs heading towards the stadium.

When we got to the Old Well, Outback Steakhouse was giving away free chicken and steak, so we got that for our lunch! But no forks or napkins, for some reason. And we could never snag any cheesecake.

The game was OK; if Carolina had played in the first half the way they did in the second half, they might've won. Cindi and Lynn had to get on the road home, so we left as the 4th quarter was starting, but we were able to listen to it on the radio, and got back to my house in time to see the tail end. Carolina almost pulled out a win, but just couldn't quite do it.

A fun day with two old friends!

I'm famous!!!!

Well, OK, not really.

But I sat somewhere a famous person did!!!

Well, OK, not really.

But I sat somewhere, and then a famous person sat at a replica of the place I sat!!!

I hear the great collective "What the heck are you talking about, woman?!?!?!"

I've been back on my CSI kick, and I'm watching season six currently. At the end of the episode Kiss, Kiss, Bye, Bye, Catherine Willows has finally come to terms with her mother's current relationship (long story, but the man in question is Willow's father, and not a totally savory character).

Anyway, Willow has come around, and she meets her mother at the Bellagio, on the patio. At the EXACT table where Dick, Trina, Kathy and I sat for Dick's Birthday! How cool is that!

Except, of course, that CSI is filmed in LA, they come in every couple of years or so to get footage, but the actors never show up. So they were actually sitting at a table that was made to look like the exact table we sat at.

Still. Kinda cool.

She did WHAT?!?!?!?!?

A story from the local news channel today reports that police in a Philadelphia suburb found a "weapons cache" in the home of a 14-year-old boy, including guns, knives and explosive materials. The boy was apparently the victim of bullying, to the point that he left school after middle school and was home schooled. While there seemed to be no immediate plans for a school shooting, apparently the kid had tried to recruit others to help him attack a local high school.

OK, terribly sad story. I have no patience with bullies, mental or physical, and I hope neither of my children are ever victimized by them.

But the line that stopped me dead (so to speak) in the article was this one: "The weapons found during the search...included a 9mm assault rifle that the teenager's mother had recently bought for him..."

Um, excuse me? A 9mm assault rifle? For someone who can't drink, drive, vote, and probably doesn't even shave that much yet? And who's possibly emotionally fragile because of bullying? An ASSAULT rifle????

What in God's name was that mother thinking? That it would give him confidence? Assurance? Help him stand up to the bullies? Well, yeah, it might do that last, but with potentially disastrous consequences.

Now I have no particularly strong feelings one way or another regarding guns. I neither hunt, collect, nor feel a need for a gun as protection, but I have friends who do. I don't think that guns will, or should, be eradicated from our society, but I also thing that no one has a "right" to buy and own as many of any type of gun that they want. With ownership comes responsibility, and the primary responsibility of gun owners, imo, is to realize that a gun has one purpose: to kill things. Yeah, they're cool. Yeah, they can be collectible. But when you boil it down to it's essence, it's a very efficient tool for killing things. If you're going to own one, you need to accept that. They are not tools for increasing self-confidence, self-image, or to prove one's man (or woman) hood. If you're going to buy a gun, and particularlky if a child is going to have access to that, you've GOT to have a good grasp of that.

When are they going to put ME in charge of the world? :)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY A

Adrianne's boyfriend Ricky planned a surprise birthday party at Maggiano's!

THIS IS CRAZY

Trying to get out of Anderson Park at 5:30 on a day when there's a x-coumtry meet, 3 football practices and dog walkerr

Choir Bowling

Grace's choir bowling party was Friday night; it was loud, racous, and generally a blast (if you were under 10). I went to The Weathervane to have dinner with my Dad!

Here are some pictures:

You say Toe-may-toe, I say toe-mah-toe

It's interesting how two people, when given the same idea, will take it in two totally different directions. Trina blogged recently about wondering who was reading her blog, and why. She titled her entry "Who are You....." and the subtitle was "...said the caterpillar". A nice, lovely reference to Alice in Wonderland.

Now, if I were wondering that about my blog, I might also title the entry "Who are you", but the subtitle would be "I really wanna know!" A nice, lovely reference to The Who!

It's not that I don't get the Alice in Wonderland reference (especially with the clip art provided), and I imagine Trina knows the Who song (who doesn't). But I'm sure it says something essential about each of our personalities that Trina gravitates towards Alice and I lean towards The Who!

In the Cave

This is an unfinished beginning of a story that Peter wrote for his fourth-grade class. I think it's a great first chapter, but he has to finish it up to make it a story!

In the Cave

The rocks crumbled beneath my feet as I climbed higher and higher up the mountain I was exploring in Ancient Greece. Suddenly, I saw a cave, and as curiousity overwhelmed me, I stepped inside.

A strong smell swirled around me, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Oh, well, I thought. I'd better get back to exploring the cave. I went deeper into the cave and Inoticed the walls were lined with moss. Something caught my eye, and I saw a trunk.

I crept towards the trunk, but as I came closer it seemed to be going farther away. My hands clinched up in anger an dI broke into a sprint. Suddenly a tree root loomed out of nowhere. I tripped and landed in front of the trunk. It was a deep chocolate brown and it had gold plates and one of them had an inscription. "Hippo-cry-tees" I sounded out aloud. Suddenly it came to me. Hipocrites!" I exclaimed. And then I saw the skeleton.

Understanding washed over me. I was in Ancient Greece. This trunk must be Hippocrates' and that was his skeleton watching over it. For the first time I got a good look at the skeleton. He was wearing a tattered and torn robe, and sandels. Pin pricks covered his arms and legs. I thought he had died smiling because he was wearing a big grin. I don't know why I was standing there because my brain was yelling at me to get out, but I was still standing there. The smell came back and this time I knew what it was! It was Medicine.

"So." A voice came out of nowhere. "Enjoying yourself?"

"Oh, yes, " I replied in a voice dripping with sarcasm, "this cave is very lovely." the skeleton walked towards me. He was still wearing that rove, and my brain was telling me to show some respecdt and that this skeleton was the skeleton of the father of medicine, but I still was cautious of it.

I backed away slowly and tripped on the tree root again. The trunk opened and I peered inside. To one man it would be junk, but to me it was a treasure. Scrolls and bottles filled it up, and, with my hand quivering with excitement, I reached inside.

"Go ahead, choose one." The skeleton urged me on.

"Okay, " I replied. I took a deep, shuddering breath and chose one. "Depressed: " I read aloud, "Mix Hot Chocolate, orange juice, and a plant. Dosage: every 3 hours. Does this really work?" I asked the skeleton.

"Oh, of course, " he replied in his gravely voice. "You don't think I would tell you something if it didn't work, do you?" he inquired forcefully.

"N-No, sir!" I stuttered.

"Didn't think so." he muttered.

Finally I had to ask the question. "Are you the skeleton of Hippocrates?"

His malicious grin got bigger, but I was getting impatient. He must have sensed that becuase he said, "OK. Sit down, and I'll tell you."

Sleep...must have sleep

Do you remember the old Driver's Ed movies (or maybe Mythbusters episode) that showed normally sane adults performing normal day-to-day activities, then taking a drink and doing them again, and so on. The point was to show impressionable young people the dangers of drink.

I've determined a much cheaper, equally effective way of indicating the loss of motor skills. Go without sleep.

The older I get, the less I can do without sleep, and the longer it takes me to get over it. Sunday I had to stay up till midnight-ish for work; not a big deal, and there are times I stay up that late reading. But, Monday I was a little sluggish. Today fine, but a smidge sleepy, but I have to stay up again for work. At this point, it's 1:30 am and counting, but I should be able to stop soon.

However, what I've noticed is that my typing skills are deteriorating with the lateness of the hour. So far, in this single post, I've misspelled:

• sane
• normal
• young
• drink (twice)
• equally
• up
• a (my personal favorite -- anyone can misspell antidisestablishmentarianism, but it takes an artist to misspell a one-letter word)

I'll keep track of further loss of motor skills as the night progrezzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Where There's Smoke part 2

Kathy found this story.