Thursday, December 27, 2007
Monday, December 24, 2007
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
A 10 year old girl was arrested at school for using a steak knife to cut up her lunch. That's right. She brought the knife in her lunch bag to cut up a piece of steak she brought with her for lunch. School officials state that she did not use the knife inappropriately and she didn't threaten anyone with it. She simply used it to cut up her lunch. A couple of teachers who saw her, took the knife and then called the sheriff. The teachers said anytime time there is a "weapon" on campus they are charged to report it to the police. The sheriff tried to contact the parents and were unable to reach them so they proceeded to arrest her and take her to juvenile hall. They said that it is the school's policy and if they are called they have to take some kind of action.
The girl now faces a felony charge for possession of a weapon and has been suspended from school for ten days.
If eating utensils are weapons, has anyone considered how deadly a fork could be? Maybe we should just ask children to eat with their hands. That is what we are talking about here folks.....children! Fifth graders! Just the fact that the school officials told the sheriff that she was simply eating her food and going about her business is in itself laughable. A ten year old girl now faces a felony charge for using a eating utensil.
Have we lost our minds?
Saturday, December 15, 2007
In other words, I've caved. Angst or not.
Just minutes before I went home sick on Monday, the art director and I formed an anti-team-holiday-luncheon alliance which she pledged to maintain should the topic come up at that afternoon's team meeting. Apparently my absence effectively derailed the agenda and the topic didn't come up. We were on track for success!
We're not a bitter, scroogish bunch, really. Just a bit overworked and trying valiantly to hire three new people. We're admittedly picky eaters, with vegetarian, low-carb and nothing too spicy representing just a few of our well-stated requirements. More than one of us is a bit quirky. Some of us are more adept at small talk than others. And did I mention we're all women?
Our most recent effort at festive lunching was a farewell potluck for our admin who moved up and on to another post in the organization. I reminded the art director of this as we formed our alliance and you could tell the second recollection of that hour came to her mind.
We just don't 'jell' as a fun lunch group. In pairs, with a third or even half the team present, we do fine. But throw us all together, and unless the goal is deliver on a deadline or execute a project, we flounder. Big time. It's so obviously painful that other teams feel sorry for us.
So I returned on Wednesday, just as the other teams were hitting full-on holiday luncheon mode thinking, te he, we won't have to do that again this year. We'll devote our goodwill to the adopt-a-family effort and gorge ourselves on the goodies various vendors drop by. (Printer-dude -- those candy coated pretzels rock!)
Then, in a meeting with three of us to discuss what to do with some new research, our v.p., who is usually the last person to suggest such things, asks when we think we can fit lunch in before the holiday, her treat. I look around the office in a panic. No art director. Just Suzy Sunshine A, and Suzy Sunshine B who is 1) a new hire of Suzy Sunshine A that we don't want to taint, yet, and 2) is positively beaming at the praise she's just received for this project.
Crap. I'm trapped.
I coughed. Mumbled something about it maybe being tough to find time to get us all together and tried to not look horrified. Or fearful. Suzy Sunshine B offered to check calendars and schedule us all. Suzy Sunshine A smiled, and I'm sure was mentally patting herself on the back for making such a good hire.
Five minutes later, the art director is in my doorway, a look of horror on her face that no doubt matched my own.
We'd been ambushed.
Monday, we'll lunch. Together. Happy holidays...
Sunday, December 09, 2007
(Sorry vegetarians. I tried it in the 80s, it didn't take.)
All I wanted to do today was tie my hair back, roll up my sleeves and put the ridiculous number of kitchen tools I've accumulated to use. Is that really asking so much?
But no. I forgot to take the beef out of the freezer in time to thaw last night. So much for domestic therapy. I've been bitchy and restless all day.
Yes, I know that's giving a hunk of beef way too much power. But it's either that or give the season too much power over me.
This blogs owner and I couldn't be more different in that regard. She's been known to sing carols in July, and yes, that was her skipping down the aisle at Macy's yesterday when a certain tune came across the store speaker.
I struggle to put on a brave face throughout the holiday month. By January 2, I'm more than over it. And this isn't a mid-life moment I'm having.
It is, I suspect, an only child moment.
When I was a kid we always went to my grandparents' house for Christmas. It wasn't the promise of a lovely drive south along I-75 that got us moving at sunrise on X-mas eve -- it was the need to surround the only child with three, four, six or more cousins. And I loved every moment of it. Going home a day or so after Christmas I'd sit in the back seat, leaf through a book and sigh.
The older I got the louder the sighs, the bigger the pile of books. It became simpler just to keep the surly kid home and invite the local relatives over for dinner.
In high school I formed a support system of friends, who, looking back, I realize were always around on Christmas Eve, even Christmas Day, because they were rebelling against having to split their holiday between divorced parents.
In college I worked retail and spent my day off sleeping. (Except for the year I came out and had HIVES at Christmas... but that's another post.)
Settled for several years in a steady relationship, my home with my ex became a stop on the holiday tour for both our families. I liked the entertaining itself more than the forced family fun. Rita would never believe it, but I spent days obsessing about where the stockings were hung and creating a unique centerpiece for the buffet table.
This year, like the last couple, I'm navigating the holiday season best I can. I'm tempering Rita's joy with the occasional bah humbug. I've finished shopping. I'll eventually crack open a bottle of cheap wine and wrap the presents.
And I'll have my roast beast. For breakfast. Tomorrow.
Saturday, December 08, 2007
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Since we come as a pair at Working the Room (bogo) Rita's items will appear in italic; Lynt's not.
1) Mimes. Need I say more?
2) Salespeople. All varieties.
3) Half-price donuts.
4) My boss.
5) Smelling smoke, seeing no fire.
6) Cats. I know. Take away my toaster oven.
7) Giddy girlfriends.
8) Bleu cheese.
9) Optimistic head football coaches -- aka Marvin Lewis, anytime in July.
10) Nancy Grace.
11) Things in brown paper bags.
12) Decaf coffee.
13) All you can eat Chinese buffets. Especially anything labeled chicken.
14) Dated elevator inspection certificates.
15) Feet tapping in a public restroom stall. (Thank you, Idaho Statesman)
16) Anything 'she who is not mentioned here' says.
17) Ex-es bearing gifts.
18) Loose sushi.
19) 'It will only hurt for a second'.
20) Garden gnomes.
I must say that this was an extremely fun little exercise. I think Lyn and I could have gone on for about another twenty minutes if we didn't have cats begging for attention and a little dog begging for another rice cake. Thank you for passing it along DP!
Sunday, December 02, 2007
As we talked about the crappy real estate market, our kids, lack there of, or procuring sperm for creating future kids, the conversation turned to retirement. Some of us are closer than others, and some of us are pretty sure we'll never be able to afford to retire. We're quite confident we've come up with a marketable proposition to help us all ease comfortably into our gay old age.
It won't be your traditional lesbian retirement community -- money alone won't buy you a spot and weekly bingo. We're planning something a bit more exclusive.
We think about 10 acres somewhere here in the Tri-state would get us started. A nice, tree-filled space, long, winding driveway, perhaps a small pasture or two for goats, alpaca, a few horses.
A retinal scanner at the gate will ensure proper identity and security. And the moat, of course, will be the perfect final deterrent to prevent the bevy of those-whose-names-will-not-be-spoken here from gaining entry and disturbing our golden years.
Then there'll be a lengthy application process conducted by the admissions office,(okay, actually that's D and myself; I won't speak for her, but I have trust issues that require my involvement!). We'll start with a psychological screening, perhaps administer a personality type test or two, conduct a credit report analysis, do an astrological chart, and conclude with an intensive survey of how involved the individual has been in the more damaging activities on the local lesbian scene.
We think we can meet most daily living needs via careful marketing to those around today's table and a handful of others -- a couple of nurses, a massage therapist or three, a professor/organic gardener, accountant, one or two IT types to keep us web-connected.
Aside from deciding what limits to set on the cat population, the plan is coming together nicely.
Champagne punch in a snowman cup is quite the thing...