Theodore supposedly has plenty to say. He has a little catching up to do on his posts, but expect a little bit of political commentary, lewd behavior, and general ranting. I have no idea what Theodore is up to, but I do know that the smile painted on his face is just a ruse. He is a bitter little bear.
Archive for May, 2008
I know I’ve written about this before, but I have to mention it again. I just watched a preview for Catch and Release and I got a glimpse of The Kiss again.
If you haven’t watched the movie yet, watch it. You will know The Kiss when you see it. It is absolutely perfect. Not perfect in the traditional sense of the word. Perfect in that it sends chills down my spine. Perfect in that it sends tears streaming down my face. Perfect in that I think I need to buy the movie, just so that I can watch this scene over and over again.
It is an amazing kiss. Words will never give it justice.
Thanks to Shel for finding it on YouTube:
It seems we have a primary coming up. And when California offered if I’d like to always vote by mail, I said YES! So easy. I actually read through all the material while I was voting. And I won’t actually mail it in, but I will drop it off at the polling place.
I think what I like most is that I can actually take time and think about it. What has happened in the past is that I get to the polling place—if I go at all—and then hastily make decisions about an election I never read up about. I was an uninformed voter. I voted based on name recognition, or the words they used on the ballot.
Today, I read all the statements. Today, I educated myself before I voted. Today, is the day that I really became a citizen!
Hopefully I remember to drop it off next week…
Curious George helped me lick the envelope.
Who wants to open a Bed & Breakfast with me? Although now that I have a photo, it might be better as a Youth Hostel. Ski lodge in winter, hunting in fall, water sports in the summer, “Boot camp” in spring. Who’s in?
Maine jail for sale for $200,000. Staff photo by David Leaming
Growing up in Maine was a pure wilderness experience. We didn’t quite live in the middle of nowhere, but you could certainly see it from our doorstep. I walked into the kitchen one morning to find Panda, our Saint Bernard, touching noses with a moose right outside the window. So it wasn’t a surprise the evening that I opened the front door and stepped onto the porch to find a family of skunks had taken up residence. This began The Great Relocation.
Dad was in charge of the operation. Each of us was responsible for devising a way of catching and moving a skunk. I had a brilliant plan. Simple, easy, and effective. Just takes time.
In the part of the yard that we mowed—in Maine, people choose the percentage of yard they are willing to maintain and leave the rest to nature—I laid down a small piece of plywood. On top of that, I propped up a cardboard box with a stick. I placed two saltines with peanut butter under the back of the box. I tied a kite string to the bottom of the stick. I unrolled the string until I was sitting on the back of the Jitterbug. I held the string taut. Then I waited.
I waited and I waited.
Mom brought me dinner and I waited some more. I’d been sitting there for what seemed an eternity. For the last hour, one of the baby skunks had been circling the box. Every time I thought it would go inside the box, it circled again. I was on edge. I was going to succeed, I just had to be patient. My heart was pounding. I tried to will the skunk into the box as I sat silently, waiting to pounce. Another lap, another pause, another lap.
Then it happened. A fawn jumped out of the woods. It trotted right up to the baby skunk. Out of fear, the baby skunk ran under the box. I pulled the string. As the box was coming down, the fawn’s mother jumped out of the woods. Scolding the fawn, she chased him back into the forest. And my skunk was safely inside the box.
Of course no one believes me.
Dad, Brother K, and I loaded the skunk into the back of the truck. We drove down the road to the field Dad had chosen for The Great Relocation. We set the skunk free and wished it luck finding the rest of its family. On the way back to the truck, Brother K carried the box on top of his head.
The baby skunk hadn’t really sprayed the box, but the odor of sitting inside it for half an hour had permeated the cardboard. And now it rubbed off onto my brother’s hair. Only Brother K knows why he thought putting the box on his head was a good idea, but if he had been the dog, we would have left him outside until the odor went away. Instead, Mom washed his head with milk and some other home solutions for removing skunk perfume. It took a few days for the smell to dissipate completely. By then, the skunk family was safely in their new home.
I’ve decided to write down some of my old stories so that I don’t lose them. Blogs are always about the here and now, but what about the past? What will happen to everything from my childhood? The likelihood of me having children and grandchildren to pass these stories is looking slimmer every day. Many of these stories you have heard already over a pint of beer. I do like to tell stories. I’m not sure when that started, but I do it even more lately and I’ve been having a hard time stopping.
So I hope that you enjoy the occasional post that steps into the past to reveal a little about how I became who I am today.
I didn't get an action shot, but Mitsy started playing a new game. She
would sneak up on Perl and then try to strike Perl with her claws.
Mitsy seems quite pleased with herself. Pablo was playing the same
game with Perl last night. I might have to start putting Perl in her
kennel when I'm out just to protect her from the cats. Who knows how
the cats torture her when I'm not around!
I was out tonight with two of The 2000. Why “The 2000″? Well, when I was teaching, my absolutely favorite class was the class of 2000. They were incredible. Funny thing is, many of my favorite people at work seem to be from the class of 2000. It is more bizarre than you know. But maybe I’ll explain that all later.
So we were at the Tied House in Mountain View. Our marsupial-loving bartender told us when we left to please come back again. This was because every time he stopped by our little spot at the bar, I managed to say something taken completely out of context. The one I remember best was when I said
How many people are caught with their pants down during an earthquake?
I had been telling the guys about my unnatural fear of being naked during an earthquake. Well, unnatural because my fear is actually about being naked at work during an earthquake. And thinking about this always makes me wonder how many people are on the toilet, or in the shower, or having sex when a natural disaster strikes.
Personally, I can’t seem to sleep naked because of this. However, I do occasionally take naked afternoon naps. I don’t want to get pet hair on my clothes and I’m too tired to find my pjs. And I figure I won’t sleep as deeply as I do at night, so I might be able to get dressed faster.
Back to the point of the story, our bartender was shit faced during the Loma Prieta earthquake and was actually on the toilet. Finally, confirmation that it does happen! My fear is not unfounded!
Yesterday, someone told a joke.
Women are like parking spaces. The good ones are taken or handicapped.
I wrote back. “You are talking about my golf handicap, right? Right?”
I was going to write all my handicaps down here. But there are too many, and I don’t have the time. Feel free to write them all in the comments though. ;-)