It's worse than the air in LA during rush hour. It's worse than the air below the most polluting coal-fired powerplant. It's worse than the air next to Sam's bum when he toots (and he's been doing this a lot lately because he has discovered potty humor and can't stop the hilarity)
The newspeople warned us that it might cause burning eyes, scratching thoats, coughing and that you should keep your children inside and not go jogging.
Hehe. I love how they assume that I'm going to be *jogging.* As if.
He takes pictures of the kids crying or whatever. I always hate these pictures and wonder why Steve does it. (Maybe you can tell us, Steve?) My theory is that he finds that there's more artistic integrity involved with taking pictures of people that aren't always smiling and posing. Here's one he took recently of Lily:
Sam noticed that his fish was missing. He got a stricken look on his face and asked, "Mommy, what happened to my pet?"
If I had done what I thought I should have done, I would have already bought another identical fish and replaced it before he noticed his fish was gone. But because everyone seemed to think I should tell him about death, I explained, "I'm sorry honey, but your fish died. We can get you another one when you're ready."
Eyes get wider. Face gets even more stricken. "He's dead?"
Steve says, "Yes. He's in fish heaven now."
I say, "Do you want another fish?"
Sam shakes his head. Then his eyes well up. And he starts to cry.
When we drive up to my in-laws house for Sunday dinner every week, we pass a graveyard. Yesterday as we were driving by, we realized something: Every single time we pass the graveyard, Lily starts to sing (unprompted), "Ashes, ashes, ashes, ashes."
Here's what I need. I need creative ways that the (fictional) director of a high school band could go about trying to get fired. Let's say his pension is at stake. Let's say he's got four months to be given the axe or he loses the bulk of his retirement benefits. What should he do?
And remember, he doesn't want to get arrested, just fired.
I am very resistant to the idea that a character simply cannot be sarcastic and likable at the same time. (Not just because that would invalidate, like, my whole personal persona, though that is obviously a factor! ;-))
So I'm trying to figure out: what makes you like a character? When you're reading a book, what makes you decide to care about what happens to the protagonist? What character traits make you want to throw the book into your nearest toilet?
You don't actually have to be a literature person to answer this. I'm asking anyone who's ever read a book.
Because the Utah Republicans have decided that they will NOT ALLOW any NON-REPUBLICANs to vote in their precious, precious primary, I (non-partisian me)* was handed a Democratic ballot today. Thus, I got to consider the fascinating (no sarcasm intended; I find this entire presidential primary race utterly fascinating) questions relating to the problems of racism versus the problems of sexism.
The radio news dudes have been considering it a lot, too. The other day, there was an entire program on racism and the speaker on the program said, "When you walk into a room, race is the very first thing that you notice."
Which made me think, well, let's consider this idea.
One: you walk into a room and meet a man, but you can't tell what race he is.
Two: you walk into a room and you meet someone, but you can't tell what gender they are.
Which scenario are you going to obsess about?!
However far we have to go with our racism, at least we're aware of it. Dunno if the same thing can be said about our sexism.
*who is pretty happy with whoever anyone votes for as long as it's NOT FRIGGIN HUCKABEE
I've been sitting in on a Stats 221 class. Most of it is just new terminology for stuff I already knew. But today's lecture blew my mind a bit.
It has to do with probability. We played the game that you can find on this website.
I think I sort of understand. But when I tried to explain the reasons that I thought I understood to the professor, he said I was "prettymuch *mostly* right." But not *totally* right?! And he never really bothered to explain the real reason.
So if you can explain this to me, I will send you a virtual kiss.
Sam started primary (or as he calls it, "kid church") in January. He's not quite used to going yet, so I've been going with him. Thoroughly enjoyable, BTW.
primary leader: "If Jesus were here, what would you want to ask him?" boy 1: "How can you kill people with just a slingshot?" boy 2: "What's it like to not have a single gun?" boy 3: "And do you really make swords by yourself? And they *work*?"
Then a boy got up to give his testimony. "I know," he says, "That Gordon B. Hinkley" [pause; this is normally where he would have said, "is a prophet"][deep breath] "is dead." [pause again.] "And I know that Heavenly Father" [pause] "is also dead." [pause] "for me." [I think he meant to say that Jesus died for me, but, yanno, whatever.]