Seriously,
My kids have finally retired their worn out VCR tapes of Blue's Clues. (Only the shows with Steve, because Joe wasn't anywhere near the same thing.)
They now have a new flavor of television viewing obsessage. They like to watch Yo, Gabba, Gabba.
If you don't know what this show is like, the only way I can describe it is like the Teletubbies got into Mommies "special stash" of Flintstones vitamins, and ended up crashing the rave with Deee-lite.
Not kidding. It's some wild-ass, crazy pre-school fun. But, what do you expect from folks who hang out with Paul Frank. And if you love Paul Frank, they way we do, then check this show out. It's a wild ride.
For starters the demographic for the show is, I believe, pre-schoolers, you know, like Blue's Clues was. But my girls now ages 8 and 12 can't get enough of this thing.
Seriously, they'll watch it and laugh, and laugh for hours. They make everyone coming over to the house watch it with them, explaining to them using their own strange language surrounding Yo Gabba Gabba, only "as seen by them."
I'll attempt to dictate to you the logic behind their love of this show, but it's a challenge.
First of all, each one of the colorful little characters has name on the show. However, my kids have decided to renamed the characters all after people from their own life.
Doing this, for some bizarre reason, gives them hours of hysterical giggling fits.
So, the names of the Yo Gabba Gabba characters are now this:
The Little Green Man given the name"Brobee" on the show, is now, "David Archuleta." because "he looks just like him."
Next, the Red character went from screen name, "Muno," to their name "Mr. Platt, our middle school Learning Specialist."
I asked why and was told "because we had to pick the most random name for him."
Then the pink one, "Foofa" was renamed by girls into "Max" because that character had to go to someone they know who is entirely obsessed with his appearance, and "Max" just seemed to fit that with his constant flipping of his long bangs all the time.
And then there's, "Toodee," who I've renamed "Jack" (Not even close to his real name , I do not use real names here.) I asked why a fellow GATE student in Yellow's class was assigned this character to be his and her answer was because "he is this boy who is really annoying and seems like a typical mysogynist because he always calls girls "Bitches, Lesbians and Whore-magnets."
"Well, isn't a whore-magnet a boy?"
"No! No way. It's a dirty lesbian [according to the boy in her class]."
"I never heard that before," I mused, but she just said, "Well, you'll hear it from him. That's all he says!"
I'm still not sure I get it.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Thursday, June 25, 2009
June 25th, 2009. A Day In The Life.
Or, in the cases of Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson, The (Final) Day In The Life.
I read the news today, oh boy.
'bout two unlucky stars who once made the grade,
And though the news was rather sad,
I just had to laugh...
Actually, no I did not laugh. When I heard the news today I so didn't laugh.
I cringed.
First, the biggest sex symbol of my 1970's childhood has to go and die of "anal cancer," but then gets her own death sniped by an even bigger star from that same time period dying the same day, as well?
Wow, what did that Charlie's Angel do to deserve all that?
Back to how she died.
I'm not proud to admit this, because I know it speaks to how shallow I suppose I must be, but when I heard what kind of cancer she specifically had, I seriously cringed. Can't it just be "death by cancer?"
Does it really have to be "she died of anal cancer?"
So, I decided that I needed to find a prayer for not getting this, since it bothered me so much.
Note to God:
Dear God:
When my number comes up, can it please just not be anal cancer?
Listen, if it has to be the big "C" I will face up to this with as much bravery as I can possibly muster. And I really do promise to always fight the good fight and deal with whatever you dish out.
I promise that I will always go obediently into that good night whenever the Grim Reaper tells me to, but please. Please, please, dear God, in Heaven, just do not let it be that kind of cancer.
(Thank you.)
*Update: I think I should add that I just asked my daughter to read this over, which she did and then, in a matter-of-fact tone sternly warned me about the other Beatle's song,"Instant Karma."
Actually, yesterday I posted a much, much rougher draft of this...but my conscience bothered me.
Then, last night, something odd happened.
It was dusk and as we were driving home we slowed to approach an intersection.
As we idled at a red light a big old Cadillac approached from the left sailing past us like a hot knife through butter, except that as it passed by it suddenly, randomly, lost a hubcap.
Inexplicably, this one shiny hubcap peeled off the cruiser and spun frantically out into the intersection into wild, crazy arcs on the cement while we sat watching, transfixed by this unexpected spectacle.
Meanwhile the driver, oblivious to any loss, just kept on driving out of view.
The spinning hubcap came to it's final, spastic stop directly in front of us.
My daughter leaned forward and said just said one word.
"Karma," she said.
And I knew she just what she meant.
Karma, indeed.
So, I came home and rewrote this piece.
In a kinder, gentler way.
I read the news today, oh boy.
'bout two unlucky stars who once made the grade,
And though the news was rather sad,
I just had to laugh...
Actually, no I did not laugh. When I heard the news today I so didn't laugh.
I cringed.
First, the biggest sex symbol of my 1970's childhood has to go and die of "anal cancer," but then gets her own death sniped by an even bigger star from that same time period dying the same day, as well?
Wow, what did that Charlie's Angel do to deserve all that?
Back to how she died.
I'm not proud to admit this, because I know it speaks to how shallow I suppose I must be, but when I heard what kind of cancer she specifically had, I seriously cringed. Can't it just be "death by cancer?"
Does it really have to be "she died of anal cancer?"
So, I decided that I needed to find a prayer for not getting this, since it bothered me so much.
Note to God:
Dear God:
When my number comes up, can it please just not be anal cancer?
Listen, if it has to be the big "C" I will face up to this with as much bravery as I can possibly muster. And I really do promise to always fight the good fight and deal with whatever you dish out.
I promise that I will always go obediently into that good night whenever the Grim Reaper tells me to, but please. Please, please, dear God, in Heaven, just do not let it be that kind of cancer.
(Thank you.)
*Update: I think I should add that I just asked my daughter to read this over, which she did and then, in a matter-of-fact tone sternly warned me about the other Beatle's song,"Instant Karma."
Actually, yesterday I posted a much, much rougher draft of this...but my conscience bothered me.
Then, last night, something odd happened.
It was dusk and as we were driving home we slowed to approach an intersection.
As we idled at a red light a big old Cadillac approached from the left sailing past us like a hot knife through butter, except that as it passed by it suddenly, randomly, lost a hubcap.
Inexplicably, this one shiny hubcap peeled off the cruiser and spun frantically out into the intersection into wild, crazy arcs on the cement while we sat watching, transfixed by this unexpected spectacle.
Meanwhile the driver, oblivious to any loss, just kept on driving out of view.
The spinning hubcap came to it's final, spastic stop directly in front of us.
My daughter leaned forward and said just said one word.
"Karma," she said.
And I knew she just what she meant.
Karma, indeed.
So, I came home and rewrote this piece.
In a kinder, gentler way.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
How Lyndon LaRouche stole $150 from a Trader Joe's...
It's true. LaRouchepac.Org actually cost my local Trader Joe's roughly $150.00 of my dollars last week.
Granted, I'm small potatoes, but in this economy, losing any business should matter. But, apparently, to Trader Joe's, it doesn't. To be honest, they seemed insultingly laid back about how just how their loyal customers felt about being confronted with racist images at their store. Which seems, I don't know, wrong. I'd have done more to get my right to do business needs met, if I were them...but, I'm getting ahead of myself, here.
Apparently if you are a member of an annoying cult looking to set up shop in a busy marketplace to, apparently the front of Trader Joe's is the place to be. -- Who knew?
So, just how does LaRouchepac.Org get away with comparing Obama to Hitler? Because they have the right to free speech, that's how. Even if it gets racist, they can do this. And I do get that this is America and we do that here, but, somehow, the way they did this seemed pretty antagonistic and unAmerican, at the time. And that bothers me.
Here's what I don't get: Why did the store just ask them to get off the property? Isn't that a no-brainer?
How complicated is this? Just shoo the jerks off the doorstep, guys. It's not rocket science.
Ask yourself this: If these same people set up shop in front of the Bada Bing, what would Tony do?
Perhaps the laid-back strategy that Trader Joe's management is currently using should be crafted into more of a Tony-like approach, is all I'm saying. In this economy isn't having something of a muscular version of non-violence, better than throwing up one's hands and doing nothing?
Anyone who reads my blog knows that doing nothing is rarely the road I choose.
Free speech is free speech, but business is business.
But, what do I know? I'm just a typical stay at home mom.
Okay, here's what happened.
Last Thursday, about 3-4 in the afternoon. I picked up my kids from school and we were headed to Seal Beach to do our weekly family grocery shopping at local Trader Joe's. At least, I thought that's what I thought we'd be doing.
But, this time something was different.
As my girls and I got close to the store we noticed (kind of impossible not to) a big booth set up with two college age "nice young men" handing out literature from it.
I assumed it was just your average signature collector, you know, the kind hired from via the classified of LA/OCWeekly. I strolled by without much thought, but then I saw the sign.
Poster, actually. A color poster that boldly suggested our president was in league with Hitler.
NOTE: this is another image from their website and was not the exact they used, which at the time of writing this I couldn't find on the web. But, thanks to Bill Maher and others, it's now easily found just about everywhere, but I still find this image pretty jaw-dropping.
Say, what? Is this a joke?
Seriously. Right out front of the exit doors there was the inexplicable, large color poster of Obama sporting a Hitler mustache painted on his upper lip along with a sharpie scrawled headline stating "Obama's Health Plan Approved By Nazi Doctors!"
My daughters looked up at me, then back at the two young men pushing brochures into the hands of every customer exiting Trader Joe's or even walking by the store. Was this an Ashton moment, or a serious protest of some sort?
My kids look at me for some explanation, but I had nothing for them.
Their message was as bizarre as it was illogical.
Wasn't Hitler racist?
So, isn't calling Obama a racist, racist?
And aren't most of the original Nazis dead now, anyway? Are they talking about some really, really old Nazis? Is Obama a neo-Nazi? Does Michelle know? Now I'm really confused.
Obama's health care program a branch of the Third Reich?
I scrutinized the laminated color poster of Obama sporting a Hitler mustache tried not to laugh. It looked funny, until I realized they wanted it to look funny, which, actually then hit me really wasn't so funny at all.
Racists, Obama-haters, anti-government, Leisure World residents, Holocaust...why were these messages in my head as having been recently a subject of debate in the news, recently? Wait!
Then, tried to remember why the subject of Obama and Racism had the holocaust had recently been in headlines Wasn't something similar to this image in the news recently?
Oh, yeah. The Holocaust Museum that was shot up by a geriatric whack-job. That's why it was in my mind, right now.
A nut-job like these idiots took a gun to a Holocaust museum and murdered people because he was crazy and angry. It made no sense then, either. Didn't anyone notice this old guy was upset? Why didn't they do anything to stop it? Did he have any hate literature on him? Like what, this stuff?
A mixed up, old geriatric who hated government and Obama decided to "fight back" by killing people.
An racist, angry, hating geezer just like the ones leaving Trader Joe's, mumbling "I never liked the guy, anyway," some random senior citizen who one day just up and killed innocent people for no good reason other than he didn't like jews and blacks. Because he believed crazy things like Obama was like Hitler. Some nutcase, just like the ones taking handouts from Young Male #1 and Young Male #2, the boys from LaRouchePAC.Org.
This bothered me.
Nobody sane kills other people.
Not that everybody who is crazy is a killer, still, most of the time killers are crazy. And so why let them spew opinions clearly designed to just upset people? And why, of all places, do these guys want to upset the Trader Joe's crowd?
These were the things going through my head last week in the parking lot at Seal Beach. Especially since I had my two daughters were with me, because for at least one or two more years what I do actually has an impact on them.
A few days before this shopping trip I struggled to help my second grader finish her book report on Susan B. Anthony.
Little did I know, till last week, that Susan B. Anthony was brought up an avid Quaker who was raised to put her money where her mouth was for reasons both ethical and moral. Susan B. Anthony changed the Constitution and gave women the right to vote which was not an easy thing to do. It took a stubborn determination to stand up for what was fair to do this, and there was a great deal of resistance to her goals.
So, I decided not to ignore these guys after all.
I decided that today would be a lesson in standing up for doing the right thing and not ignoring things that was know were wrong. I wanted to show my girls how the actions of people, people just like Susan B. Anthony, can actually help create a positive changes . Today. But, before you decide to protest what's wrong, you have to notice it first.
Should we just smile and pass by and get into our cars and go merrily about our way while jerks convince reactive right-wingers that Obama is Hitler? Or just let someone else deal with it?
Well, I decided to attempt to model how to stand up for what I thought was right in as sane and reasonable a way possible. (Key word: "Attempt.")
I wanted to channel the ghosts of Susan B. Anthony's MOTHER to guide me, here. I wanted those kind, but staunch Quaker spirits to help me educate the few future citizens I was actually in charge of raising: My daughters.
but I wanted my kids to say "Mommy stood up for what was right" and not, "Mommy went crazy at Trader Joe's."
And so, even though I was running out of time and had two tired kids and a long grocery list, I decided to revise my afternoon game plan.
I went into Trader Joe's to speak politely with the manager. Did they know what was going on outside? Yes.
Not only did they, but they begged me to get involved and call the cops for them since Trader Joe's stated their hands were tied.
By the time we'd had this much of a conversation, other fights were breaking out in the front of the store with the LaRouchePAC dudes.
Three more citizen/Trader Joe's shoppers had requested to phone the cops to complain.
See? I was hardly the only one.
There outside the front of the store was not just your average card table, but a big honkin' podium thing with a big color, laminated poster of Obama sporting a Hitler moustache. There was an equally big post facing the exit of Trader Joes stating that "The Obama Health Plan Approved by Nazi Doctors."
I was very calm. I asked the management at Trader Joe's "why don't you tell them to move?"
Trader Joe's said their hands were tied, and that they, too, were genuinely irritated and fatigued by the LaRouchePAC drama on their doorstep and they were happy to provide a phone for us to phone the police to request they remove them from their doorway.
So, I called the cops.
During this exchange with the manager at Trader Joe's three other strangers also wanted to know why nothing was being done about the LaRouchPAC guys, as well.
Then, the Larouchpac dudes, (college age, white guys somewhere between age 19 and 27) got really hostile with us, around this time, too. Gee, it was like they were waiting for us to call the police. They called the police, too. They claimed we were oppressing them. They made a scene, too. And they seemed very comfortable with being victims in public.
I began to see what the objective was, for the whack-jobs, it was to prove a point that they were being oppressed by liberals who were too busy buying hormone-free milk to see that they savior, Obama, was going to send us to the ovens where the new healthcare plan was presumably offered.
Then another woman felt she had really had it with them got so utterly pissed off she told the cops there was "going to be a riot" in front of Trader Joe's and that a mob was about to rip their signs down and what would they think of that?
Hey! Don't look at me. I didn't go there. That was another person, not me. See? I told you people were not happy about these dudes. It was getting ugly in front of Trader Joe's.
I had my two daughters with me, I was being very mindful of how one should conduct themselves when engaging in public demonstrations. And, as much as I wanted to make a strong statement about protest, this was going South, fast. I started backing up a bit.
I asked the men why they were saying Obama was a Nazi. They scoffed at me. After all, I could have read my literature first! I could have been wise and informed at looked past the obviousness of the sign, their sign, and educated myself before addressing them first.
Young White Male #1 and Young White Male #2 informed me that it was beneath them to answer this question when I could taken their literature and read it myself. Actually, what Young White Male #1 said to me in front of my daughters was "Well, why don't read about this instead of fucking running your mouth off, lady."
Actually, I believe he actually used the word "lady" to me, but he used "Ma'am" with the other woman who was, frankly, very upset with the two men by now. And that's what set me off.
Note to liturature waving young men: Don't ever call someone like me "Ma'am." Ever. Don't even go there.
Ever. You racist, hate mongering little shit heads, because if you do, women like me will "Ma'am" your ass back so fast your heads will spin.
So, I was in, now. I joined the other woman who was standing in front of their dopey Anti-Obama poster, I joined the Iraqi man (No "Ma'am, there. Believe me.) who said this was incredulously wrong and that in his country these two guys would be beaten and in jail by now, and I then I asked my girls, again, if they wouldn't mind continuing to stand aside for a few minutes while Mommy showed them what non-violent protest against hate looked like.
The girls didn't mind in the slightest.
But, I sort-of did mind, actually. Because, the truth was I was tired and hungry and really needing the groceries, and these two LaRouchePAC dudes were really irritating and messing up the plan.
Finally, the police showed up. The LaRouchePAC babies called for the cops, too, since they were now loudly whining that they were being oppressed. They were suddenly young male victims of "Ma'am" and Co.
The police talk to people. Try to figure it out. They'd been there several times that day, already and seem genuinely confused, as well. The police finally say that they will not be doing to do a thing to move the protest to the side, or somewhere else and that this is all "out of their hands."
Okay. Free speech. I get that.
The cops didn't care that people are threatening to rip up other people's private property.
The Ma'am lady was upset that the Young men were jabbing elbows into her when she was blocking his sign. It was getting messy.
People were yelling at each other that they were being racist.
So, I shake my head and ask the police "So, bottom line is, will you be doing anything to stop what's going on here?" He says tells us he is not able to prevent free speech. And I say, "fine, then, I'm going to finish my shopping, now. By shopping somewhere else."
The protesters seemed to view my throwing in the towel as giving up, but I put it like this: Vote with your wallet, folks.
Forget making a fuss. Vote with your wallet. Just take your business elsewhere and tell Trader Joe's why, that's all. Seems simple to me.
Trader Joe's has a legit point to make with their property company they rent space from that not enough was done to keep these wackos off their doorsteps. By them not doing more to protect Trader Joe's, this store lost valuable business. Not good.
And as for my girls? They didn't mind the history lesson.
I asked them if my non-violent protest was embarrassing to them.
Now, safely back in our van they said they were proud to have a mom who says things like "You're an idiot and should be ashamed of yourself for engaging in activity that induces hate."
Or "Oh, wow. You (That would be "young man #1) just dropped the f-bomb in my face. Is this supposed to make me leave now?"
They state they were proud of me, for some crazy reason, even though I didn't make the commotion stop, or even move.
But they did mention they were worried I would get punched in the face.
Something about that didn't seem right.
Should my kids have to worry that mommy will get punched in the face on a seemingly normal day in Seal Beach, CA?
Probably not.
Will this mean I'll behave more like my reasonable, high-minded husband in the future?
-- Hell, no.
Granted, I'm small potatoes, but in this economy, losing any business should matter. But, apparently, to Trader Joe's, it doesn't. To be honest, they seemed insultingly laid back about how just how their loyal customers felt about being confronted with racist images at their store. Which seems, I don't know, wrong. I'd have done more to get my right to do business needs met, if I were them...but, I'm getting ahead of myself, here.
Apparently if you are a member of an annoying cult looking to set up shop in a busy marketplace to, apparently the front of Trader Joe's is the place to be. -- Who knew?
So, just how does LaRouchepac.Org get away with comparing Obama to Hitler? Because they have the right to free speech, that's how. Even if it gets racist, they can do this. And I do get that this is America and we do that here, but, somehow, the way they did this seemed pretty antagonistic and unAmerican, at the time. And that bothers me.
Here's what I don't get: Why did the store just ask them to get off the property? Isn't that a no-brainer?
How complicated is this? Just shoo the jerks off the doorstep, guys. It's not rocket science.
Ask yourself this: If these same people set up shop in front of the Bada Bing, what would Tony do?
Perhaps the laid-back strategy that Trader Joe's management is currently using should be crafted into more of a Tony-like approach, is all I'm saying. In this economy isn't having something of a muscular version of non-violence, better than throwing up one's hands and doing nothing?
Anyone who reads my blog knows that doing nothing is rarely the road I choose.
Free speech is free speech, but business is business.
But, what do I know? I'm just a typical stay at home mom.
Okay, here's what happened.
Last Thursday, about 3-4 in the afternoon. I picked up my kids from school and we were headed to Seal Beach to do our weekly family grocery shopping at local Trader Joe's. At least, I thought that's what I thought we'd be doing.
But, this time something was different.
As my girls and I got close to the store we noticed (kind of impossible not to) a big booth set up with two college age "nice young men" handing out literature from it.
I assumed it was just your average signature collector, you know, the kind hired from via the classified of LA/OCWeekly. I strolled by without much thought, but then I saw the sign.
Poster, actually. A color poster that boldly suggested our president was in league with Hitler.
NOTE: this is another image from their website and was not the exact they used, which at the time of writing this I couldn't find on the web. But, thanks to Bill Maher and others, it's now easily found just about everywhere, but I still find this image pretty jaw-dropping.
Say, what? Is this a joke?
Seriously. Right out front of the exit doors there was the inexplicable, large color poster of Obama sporting a Hitler mustache painted on his upper lip along with a sharpie scrawled headline stating "Obama's Health Plan Approved By Nazi Doctors!"
My daughters looked up at me, then back at the two young men pushing brochures into the hands of every customer exiting Trader Joe's or even walking by the store. Was this an Ashton moment, or a serious protest of some sort?
My kids look at me for some explanation, but I had nothing for them.
Their message was as bizarre as it was illogical.
Wasn't Hitler racist?
So, isn't calling Obama a racist, racist?
And aren't most of the original Nazis dead now, anyway? Are they talking about some really, really old Nazis? Is Obama a neo-Nazi? Does Michelle know? Now I'm really confused.
Obama's health care program a branch of the Third Reich?
I scrutinized the laminated color poster of Obama sporting a Hitler mustache tried not to laugh. It looked funny, until I realized they wanted it to look funny, which, actually then hit me really wasn't so funny at all.
Racists, Obama-haters, anti-government, Leisure World residents, Holocaust...why were these messages in my head as having been recently a subject of debate in the news, recently? Wait!
Then, tried to remember why the subject of Obama and Racism had the holocaust had recently been in headlines Wasn't something similar to this image in the news recently?
Oh, yeah. The Holocaust Museum that was shot up by a geriatric whack-job. That's why it was in my mind, right now.
A nut-job like these idiots took a gun to a Holocaust museum and murdered people because he was crazy and angry. It made no sense then, either. Didn't anyone notice this old guy was upset? Why didn't they do anything to stop it? Did he have any hate literature on him? Like what, this stuff?
A mixed up, old geriatric who hated government and Obama decided to "fight back" by killing people.
An racist, angry, hating geezer just like the ones leaving Trader Joe's, mumbling "I never liked the guy, anyway," some random senior citizen who one day just up and killed innocent people for no good reason other than he didn't like jews and blacks. Because he believed crazy things like Obama was like Hitler. Some nutcase, just like the ones taking handouts from Young Male #1 and Young Male #2, the boys from LaRouchePAC.Org.
This bothered me.
Nobody sane kills other people.
Not that everybody who is crazy is a killer, still, most of the time killers are crazy. And so why let them spew opinions clearly designed to just upset people? And why, of all places, do these guys want to upset the Trader Joe's crowd?
These were the things going through my head last week in the parking lot at Seal Beach. Especially since I had my two daughters were with me, because for at least one or two more years what I do actually has an impact on them.
A few days before this shopping trip I struggled to help my second grader finish her book report on Susan B. Anthony.
Little did I know, till last week, that Susan B. Anthony was brought up an avid Quaker who was raised to put her money where her mouth was for reasons both ethical and moral. Susan B. Anthony changed the Constitution and gave women the right to vote which was not an easy thing to do. It took a stubborn determination to stand up for what was fair to do this, and there was a great deal of resistance to her goals.
So, I decided not to ignore these guys after all.
I decided that today would be a lesson in standing up for doing the right thing and not ignoring things that was know were wrong. I wanted to show my girls how the actions of people, people just like Susan B. Anthony, can actually help create a positive changes . Today. But, before you decide to protest what's wrong, you have to notice it first.
Should we just smile and pass by and get into our cars and go merrily about our way while jerks convince reactive right-wingers that Obama is Hitler? Or just let someone else deal with it?
Well, I decided to attempt to model how to stand up for what I thought was right in as sane and reasonable a way possible. (Key word: "Attempt.")
I wanted to channel the ghosts of Susan B. Anthony's MOTHER to guide me, here. I wanted those kind, but staunch Quaker spirits to help me educate the few future citizens I was actually in charge of raising: My daughters.
but I wanted my kids to say "Mommy stood up for what was right" and not, "Mommy went crazy at Trader Joe's."
And so, even though I was running out of time and had two tired kids and a long grocery list, I decided to revise my afternoon game plan.
I went into Trader Joe's to speak politely with the manager. Did they know what was going on outside? Yes.
Not only did they, but they begged me to get involved and call the cops for them since Trader Joe's stated their hands were tied.
By the time we'd had this much of a conversation, other fights were breaking out in the front of the store with the LaRouchePAC dudes.
Three more citizen/Trader Joe's shoppers had requested to phone the cops to complain.
See? I was hardly the only one.
There outside the front of the store was not just your average card table, but a big honkin' podium thing with a big color, laminated poster of Obama sporting a Hitler moustache. There was an equally big post facing the exit of Trader Joes stating that "The Obama Health Plan Approved by Nazi Doctors."
I was very calm. I asked the management at Trader Joe's "why don't you tell them to move?"
Trader Joe's said their hands were tied, and that they, too, were genuinely irritated and fatigued by the LaRouchePAC drama on their doorstep and they were happy to provide a phone for us to phone the police to request they remove them from their doorway.
So, I called the cops.
During this exchange with the manager at Trader Joe's three other strangers also wanted to know why nothing was being done about the LaRouchPAC guys, as well.
Then, the Larouchpac dudes, (college age, white guys somewhere between age 19 and 27) got really hostile with us, around this time, too. Gee, it was like they were waiting for us to call the police. They called the police, too. They claimed we were oppressing them. They made a scene, too. And they seemed very comfortable with being victims in public.
I began to see what the objective was, for the whack-jobs, it was to prove a point that they were being oppressed by liberals who were too busy buying hormone-free milk to see that they savior, Obama, was going to send us to the ovens where the new healthcare plan was presumably offered.
Then another woman felt she had really had it with them got so utterly pissed off she told the cops there was "going to be a riot" in front of Trader Joe's and that a mob was about to rip their signs down and what would they think of that?
Hey! Don't look at me. I didn't go there. That was another person, not me. See? I told you people were not happy about these dudes. It was getting ugly in front of Trader Joe's.
I had my two daughters with me, I was being very mindful of how one should conduct themselves when engaging in public demonstrations. And, as much as I wanted to make a strong statement about protest, this was going South, fast. I started backing up a bit.
I asked the men why they were saying Obama was a Nazi. They scoffed at me. After all, I could have read my literature first! I could have been wise and informed at looked past the obviousness of the sign, their sign, and educated myself before addressing them first.
Young White Male #1 and Young White Male #2 informed me that it was beneath them to answer this question when I could taken their literature and read it myself. Actually, what Young White Male #1 said to me in front of my daughters was "Well, why don't read about this instead of fucking running your mouth off, lady."
Actually, I believe he actually used the word "lady" to me, but he used "Ma'am" with the other woman who was, frankly, very upset with the two men by now. And that's what set me off.
Note to liturature waving young men: Don't ever call someone like me "Ma'am." Ever. Don't even go there.
Ever. You racist, hate mongering little shit heads, because if you do, women like me will "Ma'am" your ass back so fast your heads will spin.
So, I was in, now. I joined the other woman who was standing in front of their dopey Anti-Obama poster, I joined the Iraqi man (No "Ma'am, there. Believe me.) who said this was incredulously wrong and that in his country these two guys would be beaten and in jail by now, and I then I asked my girls, again, if they wouldn't mind continuing to stand aside for a few minutes while Mommy showed them what non-violent protest against hate looked like.
The girls didn't mind in the slightest.
But, I sort-of did mind, actually. Because, the truth was I was tired and hungry and really needing the groceries, and these two LaRouchePAC dudes were really irritating and messing up the plan.
Finally, the police showed up. The LaRouchePAC babies called for the cops, too, since they were now loudly whining that they were being oppressed. They were suddenly young male victims of "Ma'am" and Co.
The police talk to people. Try to figure it out. They'd been there several times that day, already and seem genuinely confused, as well. The police finally say that they will not be doing to do a thing to move the protest to the side, or somewhere else and that this is all "out of their hands."
Okay. Free speech. I get that.
The cops didn't care that people are threatening to rip up other people's private property.
The Ma'am lady was upset that the Young men were jabbing elbows into her when she was blocking his sign. It was getting messy.
People were yelling at each other that they were being racist.
So, I shake my head and ask the police "So, bottom line is, will you be doing anything to stop what's going on here?" He says tells us he is not able to prevent free speech. And I say, "fine, then, I'm going to finish my shopping, now. By shopping somewhere else."
The protesters seemed to view my throwing in the towel as giving up, but I put it like this: Vote with your wallet, folks.
Forget making a fuss. Vote with your wallet. Just take your business elsewhere and tell Trader Joe's why, that's all. Seems simple to me.
Trader Joe's has a legit point to make with their property company they rent space from that not enough was done to keep these wackos off their doorsteps. By them not doing more to protect Trader Joe's, this store lost valuable business. Not good.
And as for my girls? They didn't mind the history lesson.
I asked them if my non-violent protest was embarrassing to them.
Now, safely back in our van they said they were proud to have a mom who says things like "You're an idiot and should be ashamed of yourself for engaging in activity that induces hate."
Or "Oh, wow. You (That would be "young man #1) just dropped the f-bomb in my face. Is this supposed to make me leave now?"
They state they were proud of me, for some crazy reason, even though I didn't make the commotion stop, or even move.
But they did mention they were worried I would get punched in the face.
Something about that didn't seem right.
Should my kids have to worry that mommy will get punched in the face on a seemingly normal day in Seal Beach, CA?
Probably not.
Will this mean I'll behave more like my reasonable, high-minded husband in the future?
-- Hell, no.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Okay, the last and final episode of Eric Schaeffer's "I Cant' Believe I'm Still Single," Part Two.
Well, the great journey has commenced and after all the interviews, the driving, the meetings the deep thoughts from Eric, Mark and Em, we followed the merry trio back to the home of all great art, Los Angeles.
Here in LA, Mr. Schaeffer had a screening of all his dates in Los Angeles to get a democratic perspective, aka, votes from his friends, to modify what he was going to do anyway.
But, not before the following:
Remember the woman, Erin, from our last segment? The woman he improvised an interview with on his way to meet with his Colorado date, Lauren? You know, the one I said was interesting and complex?
Yeah, apparently Eric remembered Erin, from his previous segment, too.
And before he could even get out of Colorado Eric inexplicably begins to spew a gross, lurid sex-fantasy ramble about, not the he was on a date with that night, but "a dream" about her girl friend, who did nothing at all but answer a few questions of Eric on his way into the date. It was bizarre, to say the least.
Instead of taking a bit of responsibility for perhaps being too optimistic about his ability to charm the pants off a confirmed Bible-thumper, he apparently projected his frustration about bombing out with Lauren onto the subject of poor Erin, who really didn't deserve to be dragged into this show at all.
Huh?
But, and I guess I will revisit the past episode a bit more, in how it ties into to my feelings about this one.
Why was he still so tormented by the way the date turned out? In this last episode it is clear he is still completely shocked, which I don't get.
He's into some very kinky stuff and is certainly quite upfront about that. She's into Jesus and isn't shy about this, either.
So, how was this supposed to work, exactly?
She didn't seem to expect anyone to adhere to the same beliefs, she simply stated her own expectations for marriage which also included seeking a husband who felt the same way that she did.
But, Eric pressed further, seeking details on how her Christian principles might affect his own sexual future with her, say, for this date. Or the possibly the next one.
He apparently did not hear the chat Lauren had earlier with Mark and Em outside the restaurant.
"So, do you think homosexuality is wrong?" asks Eric?
She does not hesitate -- she does.
Eric presses on presumably trying to put words in her mouth since this will be the only thing he gets in there: "...And that they are sinners and that all sinners deserve to to to hell because they don't repent?"
-- Lauren snaps back "-- I didn't say that!"
"But that what the Bible says," counters Eric.
In a rapid-fire response, Lauren, justifies her stance on camera: "The Bible says the judgment is 'reserved to God.' Are you surprised by any of this?" She seems genuinely rattled by things by now.
He sits back with a sigh and says quite seriously "Uhm. I'm really surprised. I'm really surprised..."
Once again, I find myself thinking "Well, you're the only here who is surprised, Eric."
So, what my question is at this stage of the entire show is was this 'date' real at all? Or just a film opportunity? How the hell could he have serious thought this date would work? Surely even on the internet these two must have learned that they were not good date material, no?
These were the questions I had. How much of this was sincerely about his seeking a wife?
How much of it was merely audience freak show material that was thinly disguised as reality television?
Was this whole "reality series" just an improvised comedy act that we are led to believe was real all along? I guess I'm skeptical at this point.
Or does Eric Schaeffer really and truly so overestimate his ability to charm the pants off anything that he believes he can reason anyone into evolving? Regardless how far out of mainstream his beliefs are?
There is a naive core to him that actually seems to think that being friendly and explanatory about how his outlook is that if he just states his case long enough it will be enough to change the mind of, well, whoever he is talking to.
Well, just watch the nature of our last three presidental elections to see how easy it is to state the obvious to the world and expect the world in return to evolve.
Nope. Doesn't happen like that.
People have deep, ingrained beliefs and as frustrating as it is, people don't seem to always evolve just because the evidence for evolution is staring them in the face. Sometimes wisdom is knowing when to walk away and pick a different person to engage in discussion. Clearly, this seems like an obvious characteristic to develop when searching for wife. On national television. But, what do I know?
Here's what I see as an interesting thematic link in the final two episodes: Eric over estimates his charm. And he loses the race in doing so. Twice.
While arguing in the car with his van-mates Mark ends up challenging Eric to a duel. Or visa versa. You have two guys in a van both of which think they are the alpha male, but one is actually a juvenile male who only thinks they're alpha because they have the camera.
Okay, well, Eric and Mark start to compete.
After telling Eric that Mark considers himself a better skier Mark goes one further by suggesting they "double down on any sport involving fighting, punching, fighting, kicking. Any one of those."
They decide upon swimming. Eric declares he could never be beat in any swimming contest. That he can do this sort of thing hands down.
And thus, Eric Schaeffer with his hubris alive and kicking drags his reputation once again to the mat by betting $12,ooo that he will kick his friend, Mark's ass in a swimming race once they get to Los Angeles.
Eventually, the said sporting event takes place.
Which, I have to say was quite a sight to see. I mean for two "mid-century" guys who have spent numerous hours on and off camera judging every detail of women's physiques it was almost worth making it this far to watch them both squirm in the naked light of day as they disrobe prior to hitting the water.
In case you missed it, they are both, portly, to say the least. Ebner sports a beer belly and a large face of a dog inexplicably tattooed on his upper arm. And then there was the formerly confident Eric Schaeffer suddenly quite camera shy, finally summoning all his courage just to remove his trademark v-neck t-shirt. And now we know why. For a guy seeking a wife, I would have suggested he remain clothed. He has rather unimpressive balding man boobs separated by a narrow strip of chest that resembles hair cleavage. And, not that this should surprise anyone, he sports the kind of spare tire anyone would have after this particular trek across North America in a mommy van.
But, this scene is worth it to every woman he ever judges or demeans sexually during his personal quest for perfection.
Witnessing the collective discomfort with the baring of their own bulges and bellies acquired on their a road trip fueled by Applebees and Nemo's bars in the harsh Los Angeles poolside light was pretty entertaining. And, as I said, just revenge for every single judgment they made of women along the way.
Not only are they both exposed in every sense of the word, but Eric is finally and ultimately faced with losing the race. Both of them.
And he has to accept what this means.
Hubris gets us into some pretty tight spots, and this is why -- it is best to leave the camera home when filming your real life.
Earier his friends had voted for who his friends liked the best, and Eric agreed with their choices.
He ultimately chose the following as the final three who were lucky enough to get the "nemo bar phone call." Actually a total of five of the 10 got a nemo bar phone call, but this is how they were finally ranked:
First Place: Lauren -- From NEW YORK, not Colorado.
Second Place: Alison, the woman from Burlington, Vermont. (Who his mother said she liked before hand.)
Third Place: Samantha, a pretty brunette he hooked up with at the end of the trip in a restaurant in Los Angeles. She did seem genuinely sweet, but also a bit dazed and, well, young.
His second string consisted of: Emily the DJ from Kansas and Ashli.
Then in a flurry of subtitles we learn the final outcomes of the nemo-bar date calls.
It sort-of looks like they all pretty much dumped him, except the woman, Samantha, that he meets in Los Angeles who is pretty, and very young, and a bit too lost to be terribly opinionated at this stage of her life.
Who knows what happened really. I don't.
Whew.
--- So, that's it folks!
Here in LA, Mr. Schaeffer had a screening of all his dates in Los Angeles to get a democratic perspective, aka, votes from his friends, to modify what he was going to do anyway.
But, not before the following:
Remember the woman, Erin, from our last segment? The woman he improvised an interview with on his way to meet with his Colorado date, Lauren? You know, the one I said was interesting and complex?
Yeah, apparently Eric remembered Erin, from his previous segment, too.
And before he could even get out of Colorado Eric inexplicably begins to spew a gross, lurid sex-fantasy ramble about, not the he was on a date with that night, but "a dream" about her girl friend, who did nothing at all but answer a few questions of Eric on his way into the date. It was bizarre, to say the least.
Instead of taking a bit of responsibility for perhaps being too optimistic about his ability to charm the pants off a confirmed Bible-thumper, he apparently projected his frustration about bombing out with Lauren onto the subject of poor Erin, who really didn't deserve to be dragged into this show at all.
Huh?
But, and I guess I will revisit the past episode a bit more, in how it ties into to my feelings about this one.
Why was he still so tormented by the way the date turned out? In this last episode it is clear he is still completely shocked, which I don't get.
He's into some very kinky stuff and is certainly quite upfront about that. She's into Jesus and isn't shy about this, either.
So, how was this supposed to work, exactly?
She didn't seem to expect anyone to adhere to the same beliefs, she simply stated her own expectations for marriage which also included seeking a husband who felt the same way that she did.
But, Eric pressed further, seeking details on how her Christian principles might affect his own sexual future with her, say, for this date. Or the possibly the next one.
He apparently did not hear the chat Lauren had earlier with Mark and Em outside the restaurant.
"So, do you think homosexuality is wrong?" asks Eric?
She does not hesitate -- she does.
Eric presses on presumably trying to put words in her mouth since this will be the only thing he gets in there: "...And that they are sinners and that all sinners deserve to to to hell because they don't repent?"
-- Lauren snaps back "-- I didn't say that!"
"But that what the Bible says," counters Eric.
In a rapid-fire response, Lauren, justifies her stance on camera: "The Bible says the judgment is 'reserved to God.' Are you surprised by any of this?" She seems genuinely rattled by things by now.
He sits back with a sigh and says quite seriously "Uhm. I'm really surprised. I'm really surprised..."
Once again, I find myself thinking "Well, you're the only here who is surprised, Eric."
So, what my question is at this stage of the entire show is was this 'date' real at all? Or just a film opportunity? How the hell could he have serious thought this date would work? Surely even on the internet these two must have learned that they were not good date material, no?
These were the questions I had. How much of this was sincerely about his seeking a wife?
How much of it was merely audience freak show material that was thinly disguised as reality television?
Was this whole "reality series" just an improvised comedy act that we are led to believe was real all along? I guess I'm skeptical at this point.
Or does Eric Schaeffer really and truly so overestimate his ability to charm the pants off anything that he believes he can reason anyone into evolving? Regardless how far out of mainstream his beliefs are?
There is a naive core to him that actually seems to think that being friendly and explanatory about how his outlook is that if he just states his case long enough it will be enough to change the mind of, well, whoever he is talking to.
Well, just watch the nature of our last three presidental elections to see how easy it is to state the obvious to the world and expect the world in return to evolve.
Nope. Doesn't happen like that.
People have deep, ingrained beliefs and as frustrating as it is, people don't seem to always evolve just because the evidence for evolution is staring them in the face. Sometimes wisdom is knowing when to walk away and pick a different person to engage in discussion. Clearly, this seems like an obvious characteristic to develop when searching for wife. On national television. But, what do I know?
Here's what I see as an interesting thematic link in the final two episodes: Eric over estimates his charm. And he loses the race in doing so. Twice.
While arguing in the car with his van-mates Mark ends up challenging Eric to a duel. Or visa versa. You have two guys in a van both of which think they are the alpha male, but one is actually a juvenile male who only thinks they're alpha because they have the camera.
Okay, well, Eric and Mark start to compete.
After telling Eric that Mark considers himself a better skier Mark goes one further by suggesting they "double down on any sport involving fighting, punching, fighting, kicking. Any one of those."
They decide upon swimming. Eric declares he could never be beat in any swimming contest. That he can do this sort of thing hands down.
And thus, Eric Schaeffer with his hubris alive and kicking drags his reputation once again to the mat by betting $12,ooo that he will kick his friend, Mark's ass in a swimming race once they get to Los Angeles.
Eventually, the said sporting event takes place.
Which, I have to say was quite a sight to see. I mean for two "mid-century" guys who have spent numerous hours on and off camera judging every detail of women's physiques it was almost worth making it this far to watch them both squirm in the naked light of day as they disrobe prior to hitting the water.
In case you missed it, they are both, portly, to say the least. Ebner sports a beer belly and a large face of a dog inexplicably tattooed on his upper arm. And then there was the formerly confident Eric Schaeffer suddenly quite camera shy, finally summoning all his courage just to remove his trademark v-neck t-shirt. And now we know why. For a guy seeking a wife, I would have suggested he remain clothed. He has rather unimpressive balding man boobs separated by a narrow strip of chest that resembles hair cleavage. And, not that this should surprise anyone, he sports the kind of spare tire anyone would have after this particular trek across North America in a mommy van.
But, this scene is worth it to every woman he ever judges or demeans sexually during his personal quest for perfection.
Witnessing the collective discomfort with the baring of their own bulges and bellies acquired on their a road trip fueled by Applebees and Nemo's bars in the harsh Los Angeles poolside light was pretty entertaining. And, as I said, just revenge for every single judgment they made of women along the way.
Not only are they both exposed in every sense of the word, but Eric is finally and ultimately faced with losing the race. Both of them.
And he has to accept what this means.
Hubris gets us into some pretty tight spots, and this is why -- it is best to leave the camera home when filming your real life.
Earier his friends had voted for who his friends liked the best, and Eric agreed with their choices.
He ultimately chose the following as the final three who were lucky enough to get the "nemo bar phone call." Actually a total of five of the 10 got a nemo bar phone call, but this is how they were finally ranked:
First Place: Lauren -- From NEW YORK, not Colorado.
Second Place: Alison, the woman from Burlington, Vermont. (Who his mother said she liked before hand.)
Third Place: Samantha, a pretty brunette he hooked up with at the end of the trip in a restaurant in Los Angeles. She did seem genuinely sweet, but also a bit dazed and, well, young.
His second string consisted of: Emily the DJ from Kansas and Ashli.
Then in a flurry of subtitles we learn the final outcomes of the nemo-bar date calls.
It sort-of looks like they all pretty much dumped him, except the woman, Samantha, that he meets in Los Angeles who is pretty, and very young, and a bit too lost to be terribly opinionated at this stage of her life.
Who knows what happened really. I don't.
Whew.
--- So, that's it folks!
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Part Two: More Middle School Family Life Human Sexuality Unit fun, fun, fun...
Yes, folks: Yesterday began the final week of public school sex education for my sixth grader.
Note: This is a continuation of my former post I started regarding a class my daughter is taking in their final two weeks of sixth grade.
For the record, I asked my daughter (known in this blog as "Yellow") to be sure to let me know how week two of this "unit" went.
She has.
And so, as per her fine note taking skills from the second and final week of Middle School Family Life Unit here are her collection of both questions, comments and answers as relayed to me by a sixth grader, known here only as "Yellow."
Yellow said that she and her girl friend ("Lavender") had submitted a question that their science teacher, (known here as "Mr. Blue") that Mr. Blue was absolutely convinced the boys in the back of the room wrote as a prank. Apparently, Mr. Blue was having none of it, and gave these guys a hard time about their submission of the following question: (which not only isn't a bad question, but I can't see why a 12 year old boy would submit it.)
"Why do women have cravings when they're pregnant. Please be specific about why they have cravings and don't leave anything out."
I don't even know what Mr. Blue's answer was but it must have been amusing to see a bunch of dudes get nailed for something they didn't even care about, let alone do.
Q: "If a man is hit hard enough in the testicles, can they split open?"
A: "Anything is possible, but I wouldn't wanna be there if it happens."
Q: Can anyone wear more than one condom at a time for protection?
A: No, don't wear more than one at a time. Not meant for that."
Here's another question. No, actually it's a statement only thinly disguised as a question, which I'm hoping was submitted very anonymously.
Q: "Since you said it only takes one sperm cell (to fertilize...) what happens if the penis keeps shooting semen and won't stop for a long time?"
A: Not sure there was an answer, yet.
To be continued...
I seriously have no idea where she gets this from.
It's not my fault.
Monday, June 15, 2009
The "Lauren or My Jesus Loves Gays" episode of Eric Schaeffer's "I Can't Believe I'm Still Single"
Okay, it's almost done, these recaps of this show that I, so foolishly, committed myself to doing.
But, here it is...My second to last recap of this Showtime series:
Okay, so Eric and his crew are in Denver, this time, in order for Eric to have his "first date" with a yoga instructor there who he had high hopes about.
Here's the thing. Why didn't they know this would be a bust?
It was obviously not gonna work from the start. That's a lot of driving to waste on something inevitably that isn't going to end up butterflies and roses, you know?
To begin with in the first 30 seconds of the show we hear the date "Lauren" (from Colorado) tell us proudly,
"I love Jesus.
I believe in the Bible and so I live my life based on the principles that I find there."
So, then good old 'Em quickly pounds Lauren with a gunshot of a query:
"Given that you're a Jesus lover and believe in God how does Eric's sort-of homosexual tendencies affect you?"
(And this wasn't scripted, before hand?)
Even Mark seemed caught off guard by Em's swift left hook.
To which, to make a long story short, Lauren admitted that she knew this may be an issue and that for the record she didn't want a man who slept with other men.
(So, nobody knew this before hand?)
Well, before I go further with this "recap" I want to say that this one particular episode has one of the richest unscripted moments in the entire series. What's interesting is that it comes from a seemingly random stranger to his storyline revealing that in spite of his narrow focus on himself and his future Mrs. Schaeffers that it was a stranger who graces the show with a rare moment of down-to-earth honesty and wisdom.
In his last series (towards the end of Part One of this same show, Eric Schaeffer's "I Can't Believe I'm Still Single") towards the end of his series he shows an interview with a New Jersey fire fighter which was also lovely and unexpectedly candid and I remember thinking, "Eric, this guy has something important to teach you, if you are listening."
But, in both of these instances Eric simply bounces past both people, with a Tigger-like joie de vivre. With not so much as a "Namaste" for having been offered a rare, unscripted, moment of ego-free sharing.
I digress.
So, yes, in this episode the friend of the date, the lovely young woman, "Erin," is pressed for more information about Eric, presumably because Eric wants to hear what's been said about him by Lauren.
However, what Erin says to Eric was, for me, precisely the words I would use to sum up how I feel about Eric Schaeffer based on his show so far.
Here's what Erin said:
"I might have certain opinions (of you) already, yet they're not necessarily very informed by personal experience with you."
Well put, Erin, I thought. Couldn't have said it better myself.
Then, Eric, as could be predicted, pressed her for more details of what had been said about him by his date du jour, Colorado, Lauren.
Again, I loved her answer:
"Well, let me think about how to say this in a kind way (she softly laughs)...I think that you are searching for something and I don't necessarily know if you are looking in the right place to find that."
(This is where I would put the music in the soundtrack. This is the 'violins' moment, for me.)
Let me just state what she said, again, because I think it sums up how I've felt about this show all along --
"...I think that you are searching for something and I don't necessarily know if you are looking in the right place to find that."
"Ding, ding, ding...Hello? Paging Eric Schaeffer?
This is your Higher Self speaking: We were wondering if you actually listened to the playback of this scene in this show you are filming about your very own life? You know, the one you've compulsively focused on instead of sharing your sensitive "puppy" side, or saving the baby elephants?
Right. Well, we, here in Higher-Selfville, are concerned that your one, clear epiphany-moment in the entire show just slid by without any of the appropriate fanfare. And that bothers us.
We would like to just like to let you know that, sadly, we consider you just way too self involved to have noticed what A. A. Milne would term " A Very Important Moment." and, well, we've phoned to say that we mourn your loss of opportunity for growth.
And so we're going to have to kill you.
Just kidding, but next time, judge not the messenger, but the message. -- Namaste."
Okay. I digress, again.
But, you get my drift.
---------------------------------------
Actually, I wrote a lot more about this one episode, but I chose to cut it because although I thought a lot of interesting topics were brought up about religion and morality and sex and God...all very juicy topics, to be sure, that in the end, it was Erin's interview on Eric's way into his date which I found to be profound enough to stand on it's own.
It deserved to be the focal point of this posting.
(And also much of what Erin said that didn't make it into this posting, as well. She had a very rich inner life and refreshing ability to articulate some complexity with regard to her thoughts and struggles. I didn't identify with Erin or Lauren's path, but I did very much respect their candor and commitment to something outside of themselves.)
Not that I don't have more opinions on this...'cause you know I do...
But, here it is...My second to last recap of this Showtime series:
Okay, so Eric and his crew are in Denver, this time, in order for Eric to have his "first date" with a yoga instructor there who he had high hopes about.
Here's the thing. Why didn't they know this would be a bust?
It was obviously not gonna work from the start. That's a lot of driving to waste on something inevitably that isn't going to end up butterflies and roses, you know?
To begin with in the first 30 seconds of the show we hear the date "Lauren" (from Colorado) tell us proudly,
"I love Jesus.
I believe in the Bible and so I live my life based on the principles that I find there."
So, then good old 'Em quickly pounds Lauren with a gunshot of a query:
"Given that you're a Jesus lover and believe in God how does Eric's sort-of homosexual tendencies affect you?"
(And this wasn't scripted, before hand?)
Even Mark seemed caught off guard by Em's swift left hook.
To which, to make a long story short, Lauren admitted that she knew this may be an issue and that for the record she didn't want a man who slept with other men.
(So, nobody knew this before hand?)
Well, before I go further with this "recap" I want to say that this one particular episode has one of the richest unscripted moments in the entire series. What's interesting is that it comes from a seemingly random stranger to his storyline revealing that in spite of his narrow focus on himself and his future Mrs. Schaeffers that it was a stranger who graces the show with a rare moment of down-to-earth honesty and wisdom.
In his last series (towards the end of Part One of this same show, Eric Schaeffer's "I Can't Believe I'm Still Single") towards the end of his series he shows an interview with a New Jersey fire fighter which was also lovely and unexpectedly candid and I remember thinking, "Eric, this guy has something important to teach you, if you are listening."
But, in both of these instances Eric simply bounces past both people, with a Tigger-like joie de vivre. With not so much as a "Namaste" for having been offered a rare, unscripted, moment of ego-free sharing.
I digress.
So, yes, in this episode the friend of the date, the lovely young woman, "Erin," is pressed for more information about Eric, presumably because Eric wants to hear what's been said about him by Lauren.
However, what Erin says to Eric was, for me, precisely the words I would use to sum up how I feel about Eric Schaeffer based on his show so far.
Here's what Erin said:
"I might have certain opinions (of you) already, yet they're not necessarily very informed by personal experience with you."
Well put, Erin, I thought. Couldn't have said it better myself.
Then, Eric, as could be predicted, pressed her for more details of what had been said about him by his date du jour, Colorado, Lauren.
Again, I loved her answer:
"Well, let me think about how to say this in a kind way (she softly laughs)...I think that you are searching for something and I don't necessarily know if you are looking in the right place to find that."
(This is where I would put the music in the soundtrack. This is the 'violins' moment, for me.)
Let me just state what she said, again, because I think it sums up how I've felt about this show all along --
"...I think that you are searching for something and I don't necessarily know if you are looking in the right place to find that."
"Ding, ding, ding...Hello? Paging Eric Schaeffer?
This is your Higher Self speaking: We were wondering if you actually listened to the playback of this scene in this show you are filming about your very own life? You know, the one you've compulsively focused on instead of sharing your sensitive "puppy" side, or saving the baby elephants?
Right. Well, we, here in Higher-Selfville, are concerned that your one, clear epiphany-moment in the entire show just slid by without any of the appropriate fanfare. And that bothers us.
We would like to just like to let you know that, sadly, we consider you just way too self involved to have noticed what A. A. Milne would term " A Very Important Moment." and, well, we've phoned to say that we mourn your loss of opportunity for growth.
And so we're going to have to kill you.
Just kidding, but next time, judge not the messenger, but the message. -- Namaste."
Okay. I digress, again.
But, you get my drift.
---------------------------------------
Actually, I wrote a lot more about this one episode, but I chose to cut it because although I thought a lot of interesting topics were brought up about religion and morality and sex and God...all very juicy topics, to be sure, that in the end, it was Erin's interview on Eric's way into his date which I found to be profound enough to stand on it's own.
It deserved to be the focal point of this posting.
(And also much of what Erin said that didn't make it into this posting, as well. She had a very rich inner life and refreshing ability to articulate some complexity with regard to her thoughts and struggles. I didn't identify with Erin or Lauren's path, but I did very much respect their candor and commitment to something outside of themselves.)
Not that I don't have more opinions on this...'cause you know I do...
Friday, June 12, 2009
Middle School Family Life and Human Sexuality Unit
I looked it up first.
For the record, I want to categorically state that tried to do research first.
I wanted to know what to expect from the final two weeks of my daughter's sixth grade Middle School Family Life and Human Sexuality Unit.
There were rumors abroad that the final two weeks of their public sixth grade education would cover this topic, and the school alerted us that we might care to know what would be covered.
Here's a description I found of what we might expect:
A typical sixth grade "unit" of Middle School Family Life and Human Sexuality could include --
- ..Understand growth and development during puberty and promote self- awareness. Establishes class ground rules that promote open and honest discussion of family life and human sexuality...stage of human development...identifies physical and nonphysical changes that occur during puberty...anatomy of the human reproductive system...physiology of the human reproductive system, ,,,describe fertilization and how it relates to the menstrual cycle.
Yeah, so, I'm down with all that. Schools have to review human sexuality at this age. It's part of life. Education is a good. It all sounded reasonable and fair enough to me. I was jiggy with the idea of it all, and did next what all concerned parents do, I forgot about it.
-- For the purposes of anonymity for the rest of this post I assign the name of colors to people, instead of using their real names. Therefore the male, middle school science teacher will now simply be referred to as "Mr. Blue." And my precocious 6th grade daughter will simply be known as "Yellow." --
And, so after picking up "Yellow" (my 12 year old) from school, naturally I inquired how the special "Family Life Unit" went.
Our conversation, taking place entirely in our van, went something like this:
Me: "So, how'd Family Life Unit go for you this week?"
She said it was funny.
"Funny, how?" I venture.
She said the teacher asked all the kids to hand in "any questions they wanted to ask about."
"Mr. Blue said that the school board has guidelines and rules about what can or can't be answered to our questions and that he can't answer anything about personal experiences or personal opinions about sex."
Seems reasonable to me. So far, so good.
I asked her if she had handed in her own question. (I was a bit smug knowing I'd covered pretty much everything there was for any 12 year old to know by now. What questions could she possibly have?)
She informed me she had asked a question.
(At this point I realize anything I hear today, I will deserve.)
I take the bait.
"Really? So, what was your question?"
"Questions, Mom. I had more than one. But, I did ask him the usual question, you know, about sea horses."I asked her if she had handed in her own question. (I was a bit smug knowing I'd covered pretty much everything there was for any 12 year old to know by now. What questions could she possibly have?)
She informed me she had asked a question.
(At this point I realize anything I hear today, I will deserve.)
I take the bait.
"Really? So, what was your question?"
"Which question was that again?" I ask, sincerely having no idea what she meant by "usual." I try to hide any hurt look on my face there were any questions at all given what I'd felt had been up to this point a fearless parental openness to discussing all things taboo. Or, so I thought.
"Oh, you know. Uh, yeah. Uh, 'Why do male sea horses carry babies in their special pouches? Except this time (exploding into furious giggles) except THIS time I added 'in their special pouches,' and he actually read that!"
(Copious amount of furious giggling.)
"Oh." I answer, unclear as to why this was so freakishly funny, yet not wanting to block the flow.
"And, this is funny, again, why?"
"Oh, well, I guess it isn't really funny except that now I've decided every time we have to ask questions I'm only going to ask about sea horses."
I try to absorb this while driving.
She went on, "In fact, this Monday I'm going to ask him 'Do seahorses have visible reproductive organs? It's kind of hard to tell from the pictures I have up in my room.'
"Oh." I say, flatly. ('What have I done?' I wonder not for first time, today.)
"Okay." I drive on.
I should note that at this point, I'm feeling some sympathy for "Mr. Blue."
Standing in front of a room filled with sixth graders discussing penises and vaginas has got to make one feel pretty exposed. All those middle school eyes on you. This guy just earned his year's paycheck this past week alone, I think.
I drive on. Turn signal here. Turn-y, turn, there. Drivety, drive, drive.
"So," I inquire, again, "were there any other questions you kids had for your teacher, today?""Oh." I answer, unclear as to why this was so freakishly funny, yet not wanting to block the flow.
"And, this is funny, again, why?"
"Oh, well, I guess it isn't really funny except that now I've decided every time we have to ask questions I'm only going to ask about sea horses."
I try to absorb this while driving.
She went on, "In fact, this Monday I'm going to ask him 'Do seahorses have visible reproductive organs? It's kind of hard to tell from the pictures I have up in my room.'
"Oh." I say, flatly. ('What have I done?' I wonder not for first time, today.)
"Okay." I drive on.
I should note that at this point, I'm feeling some sympathy for "Mr. Blue."
Standing in front of a room filled with sixth graders discussing penises and vaginas has got to make one feel pretty exposed. All those middle school eyes on you. This guy just earned his year's paycheck this past week alone, I think.
I drive on. Turn signal here. Turn-y, turn, there. Drivety, drive, drive.
"Oh, yeah! I had some more. I asked him that thing about sea horses. Then I asked him 'How do llamas make babies? Do mama llamas have cravings?'"
"What did he say?"
"Uh, I forget. But, then I asked him this other question, too."
"What question would that be?" (We were rolling right along, so far so good.)
I asked him "Has there ever been a case in which semen has been brightly colored? If so, is there something seriously wrong?"
"YOU REALLY ASKED THAT? WHY ON EARTH WOULD YOU ASK THAT?!" I try not to yell into the rear view mirror.
More choking laughter from the back seat.
"Seriously? You asked this?! Come on. You did not!"
"Yeah, I did."
"Why?!"
"I don't know."
"Oh, that's great. Let me get this clear, that is precisely what you asked your teacher for real?"
Yellow, laughing. "Yeah."
"Oh, great. Thank you so much. Why on earth of all the things to ask would you ask that?! I'm just so confused why this is the question you felt you should you ask him. What was going through your head when you wrote that down? Seriously, what made you ask that?"
-- Silence.
"That was a question, Yellow, why would you ever ask that?"
More muffled giggling from the back seat and I realize this is my punishment. This is my punishment for being "an occasionally inappropriate kind-of mommy," but still I want to know why.
No reason given. And I chose not press it further.
The truth is, we both know I'm getting off easy. Things could be so much worse.
"What did he say?"
"He hasn't answered, yet." (thank you Mr. Blue, thank you thank you thank you)
Silence. Drivety, drive, drive.
"What were some of the other questions the kids asked that got answered."
One question was "What happens to the sperm when you kick someone in the testicles?"
He said, "Nothing really happens. It just stays there." (More giggles.)
I asked what some of the other questions were.
She gave up telling me and ended up just writing them all down as well as his specific answers to them.
Here's what I read.
Q: "I heard about a guy with three testicles! How can this happen?"
A: "Well, when you form from a cell then sometimes the cells under or over develop so that's how you get three testes."
A: "No, because, well, you guys know what 'erect' means, right? I don't have to go through that with you, do I? Okay, well the answer is 'no' because the penis is connected to the bladder and the opening to the bladder is closed off when it's erect."
A: "The vagina is a strong and flexible muscle which can contract and expand as needed just like all the other muscles."
A: "The number one reason is to have a family and to have babies and some people want to experience the pleasurable feelings that come from it."
A: "I don't know, but I know some of you are fishing experts, so ask them."
And then, there was this final question:
-- Apparently this has yet to be answered.
And this is only the first week of a two week unit before school's officially out for "summer."
Can't wait.
Monday, June 8, 2009
The Emily/Hailey date in Part two of "I Can't Believe I'm Still Single"
Okay, look, I said I would do this, that I would actually take the time to comment on each and every episode of this show but, trust me, this is getting to be a tougher promise to deliver on as each week goes by.
And to be honest, if I didn't have TiVo to help me out, then the truth is I'd never be able to do this at all. The show is becoming such a blur to me without having good digital memory assistance.
So, my point is I'm behind my episode recaps, however here is my next highly sought after "episode-re-cap" of Eric Schaeffer's smokin' hot cable show, I Can't Believe I'm Still Single, Part Two.
This show, which is almost the last show (she asked, hopefully) was his Kansas date, the episode in which Mr. Schaeffer journeys from Colorado to Wichita, Kansas to meet with the lovely Emily aka DJ "Hailey Jones."
Emily/Hailey actually seemed quite good-natured and friendly, and held up very well, I thought, to his off-putting antics.
She had courage meeting this guy on air, and she had her wits about her for the entire time, which is so much more than one can say for the other women.
Mark bagged on her for being young and probably wanting to ride Eric's coat tails out of the country into the big city with him (which I think to be a wildly dubious presumption on Mark's part. And Eric wouldn't be riding on the coat tails of her youth and goodness?)
She was less petite than the other women may have been, but she had lovely hair, a supple wit and a nice speaking voice, which certainly are not traits 'Miss Florida' can lay claim to.
Gosh, I don't know if it's me that's losing interest in this show or if Eric was losing interest in his own show which may account for my having SO much trouble remembering what the hell happened in it.
I think Emily/Hailey and Eric didn't have much chemistry.
Their date appeared to be played out on a bleak, empty, expanse of white nothingness. In an empty, giant, ill-serviced health club in the middle of all a barren, winter wasteland. Gee, what's more romantic than a "table for two" in that, right? I mean, call me crazy (Or just Anne Heche) but I'll take a candlelit meal at Applebee's over that date's ambiance any day. (I've never been to Applebee's, actually. Can any restaurant really be that awful?)
We got to watch Eric show off mediocre basketball skills. (My 12 year old could easily top his skills on the court.)
And we got to watch Mark and Eric phone sleazy people for even sleazier reasons on their cell phones. Which was so different from last time we saw this sort of thing. Poor crew members they must have felt filthy be the time they got to their hotel rooms every day.
Speaking of "Road Trip," what's a road trip without a soundtrack?! Seriously? No radio?
Here's what I want to know about Eric Schaeffer's road trips: What music are they listening to? Sorry, but this is a very defining part of my road trips. Music becomes a part of the moving landscape.
Any Fountains of Wayne's Traffic and Weather? Springsteen? Beck? Beth Orton? Or simply some country or hip hop radio stations from any of the towns they're passing through? What music is playing in the background of this road trip? Nada? -- Boring.
You can tell more about what relationship someone has to the part of the world they are in by the music they choose to listen to while in that part of the world.
Back to the show.
We got to hear way too much about crappy food chains. Even a blind man could read Eric's lips for this segment that he had gastrointestinal issues with Applebee's.
Then he proved his claim the food was bad as well as his continuing charm by "passing wind" in the foyer of the Kansas radio station, then suggesting to the poor receptionist she help him out of his gastrointestinal discomfort by servicing him "orally." (seriously) He explained to her in a hopeful tone of voice that this is what has helped him in the past with his upset tummy before.
Wow. Who does he think he is? Aerosmith? God, he must think he's really famous for this line to work.
I know, so charming. Then he cut one for all to experience, witness, smell, notice etc. Terrific.
For me this was a "deal breaker moment"#4032, if there ever was one.
Okay, well. Genuinely funny moments: There were two.
Eric yelling at the "God hates Fags" protesters in Chicago, as well as the very funniest moment which was when Eric whacked Mark with with a riding crop when he starts snoring in the van.
Those moments genuinely made me laugh.
Sincerest moment in this episode? Schaeffer's early morning parking lot epiphany scene.
This was when Eric is standing in an office somewhere and gazing out of an expanse of windows looking out into a white, frozen parking lot which so bleak and drained of all color that it seemed like a big white curtain, but then he says the following line, in a voice that, for me, for once actually sounded real. He said,
"...Where are we? What are we doing? Can't we go home? Honestly, I can't continue to just be a circus freak on display for American women to feed on."
Well, sorry, Mr. clown, but you asked for this. I mean, this is the reality you created for yourself, isn't it? So, own it.
Oh, and how many women would that be really? 12? 12.7?
In any event, for me this was this particular episode's most revelatory moment.
Oh, and I will also post here (thanks to my DVR) Eric Schaeffer's Famous Cookie Recipe since I am running out of impressions to comment on.
ERIC SCHAEFFER'S COOKIE RECIPE.
I cup whole wheat pastry flour
1 cup minute oats
2 over ripe bananas
2 tbs vanilla extract (alcohol free)
Mash together
Becomes base of cookies/brownies
3/4 "___" (mystery scribble) add chocolate chips, vegan or otherwise
Bake at 375 degrees for 15 minutes for cookies
Bake for 30 minutes if baking in brownie pan.
Okay...that's my current "I Can't Believe I'm Not Single" episode re-cap of his Part Two, "Kansas date."
And to be honest, if I didn't have TiVo to help me out, then the truth is I'd never be able to do this at all. The show is becoming such a blur to me without having good digital memory assistance.
So, my point is I'm behind my episode recaps, however here is my next highly sought after "episode-re-cap" of Eric Schaeffer's smokin' hot cable show, I Can't Believe I'm Still Single, Part Two.
This show, which is almost the last show (she asked, hopefully) was his Kansas date, the episode in which Mr. Schaeffer journeys from Colorado to Wichita, Kansas to meet with the lovely Emily aka DJ "Hailey Jones."
Emily/Hailey actually seemed quite good-natured and friendly, and held up very well, I thought, to his off-putting antics.
She had courage meeting this guy on air, and she had her wits about her for the entire time, which is so much more than one can say for the other women.
Mark bagged on her for being young and probably wanting to ride Eric's coat tails out of the country into the big city with him (which I think to be a wildly dubious presumption on Mark's part. And Eric wouldn't be riding on the coat tails of her youth and goodness?)
She was less petite than the other women may have been, but she had lovely hair, a supple wit and a nice speaking voice, which certainly are not traits 'Miss Florida' can lay claim to.
Gosh, I don't know if it's me that's losing interest in this show or if Eric was losing interest in his own show which may account for my having SO much trouble remembering what the hell happened in it.
I think Emily/Hailey and Eric didn't have much chemistry.
Their date appeared to be played out on a bleak, empty, expanse of white nothingness. In an empty, giant, ill-serviced health club in the middle of all a barren, winter wasteland. Gee, what's more romantic than a "table for two" in that, right? I mean, call me crazy (Or just Anne Heche) but I'll take a candlelit meal at Applebee's over that date's ambiance any day. (I've never been to Applebee's, actually. Can any restaurant really be that awful?)
We got to watch Eric show off mediocre basketball skills. (My 12 year old could easily top his skills on the court.)
And we got to watch Mark and Eric phone sleazy people for even sleazier reasons on their cell phones. Which was so different from last time we saw this sort of thing. Poor crew members they must have felt filthy be the time they got to their hotel rooms every day.
Speaking of "Road Trip," what's a road trip without a soundtrack?! Seriously? No radio?
Here's what I want to know about Eric Schaeffer's road trips: What music are they listening to? Sorry, but this is a very defining part of my road trips. Music becomes a part of the moving landscape.
Any Fountains of Wayne's Traffic and Weather? Springsteen? Beck? Beth Orton? Or simply some country or hip hop radio stations from any of the towns they're passing through? What music is playing in the background of this road trip? Nada? -- Boring.
You can tell more about what relationship someone has to the part of the world they are in by the music they choose to listen to while in that part of the world.
Back to the show.
We got to hear way too much about crappy food chains. Even a blind man could read Eric's lips for this segment that he had gastrointestinal issues with Applebee's.
Then he proved his claim the food was bad as well as his continuing charm by "passing wind" in the foyer of the Kansas radio station, then suggesting to the poor receptionist she help him out of his gastrointestinal discomfort by servicing him "orally." (seriously) He explained to her in a hopeful tone of voice that this is what has helped him in the past with his upset tummy before.
Wow. Who does he think he is? Aerosmith? God, he must think he's really famous for this line to work.
I know, so charming. Then he cut one for all to experience, witness, smell, notice etc. Terrific.
For me this was a "deal breaker moment"#4032, if there ever was one.
Okay, well. Genuinely funny moments: There were two.
Eric yelling at the "God hates Fags" protesters in Chicago, as well as the very funniest moment which was when Eric whacked Mark with with a riding crop when he starts snoring in the van.
Those moments genuinely made me laugh.
Sincerest moment in this episode? Schaeffer's early morning parking lot epiphany scene.
This was when Eric is standing in an office somewhere and gazing out of an expanse of windows looking out into a white, frozen parking lot which so bleak and drained of all color that it seemed like a big white curtain, but then he says the following line, in a voice that, for me, for once actually sounded real. He said,
"...Where are we? What are we doing? Can't we go home? Honestly, I can't continue to just be a circus freak on display for American women to feed on."
Well, sorry, Mr. clown, but you asked for this. I mean, this is the reality you created for yourself, isn't it? So, own it.
Oh, and how many women would that be really? 12? 12.7?
In any event, for me this was this particular episode's most revelatory moment.
Oh, and I will also post here (thanks to my DVR) Eric Schaeffer's Famous Cookie Recipe since I am running out of impressions to comment on.
ERIC SCHAEFFER'S COOKIE RECIPE.
I cup whole wheat pastry flour
1 cup minute oats
2 over ripe bananas
2 tbs vanilla extract (alcohol free)
Mash together
Becomes base of cookies/brownies
3/4 "___" (mystery scribble) add chocolate chips, vegan or otherwise
- *Important 'Louise' note. If planning to share the cookies with strangers, read the labels to make sure your chocolate chips are peanut-free.
- Schaeffer isn't a parent yet, so he doesn't realize how many kids born since 1990 have severe peanut allergies which can be lethal.
- *Important 'Louise' note Again, if planning to share these with strangers, please substitute soynut butter for peanut butter. It tastes just like peanut butter, but is, in fact, 100% peanut-free. The best tasting soynut butter is from Trader Joes. Works for substitutions in Thai cooking, as well.
Bake at 375 degrees for 15 minutes for cookies
Bake for 30 minutes if baking in brownie pan.
Okay...that's my current "I Can't Believe I'm Not Single" episode re-cap of his Part Two, "Kansas date."
Saturday, June 6, 2009
When in Brattleboro for 48 hours, you can...
...Stay awake after flying into the Manchester, N.H. in after flying the "red eye" from Los Angeles by drinking many cups of ice coffee.
...Set your car radio station WRSI, "The River" found at 93.9 FM or 101.5 FM
In fact, anywhere near Southern Vermont or Western Mass. border there is a magic FM station where you can hear precisely what music your subconscious absolute requires hearing at just the right moment.
The folks who create these play lists are completely psychic and will read your mind to feed your ears precisely what will become the perfect soundtrack to whatever your personal journey is at that moment. How great is that?
I mean, whatever the circumstances. From dropping in unexpectedly for a parent's birthday, to high school reunions to watching cows parade down Main Street. Whatever the reason. It will work.
Tune in. Leave it on. Listen. You'll thank me later.
When in Brattleboro for 48 hours, you can do any of the following.
-- Load up on very strong coffee at Mocha Joes on Main Street.
-- Pick up a bag of free freshly made popcorn at Sam's Army Navy Store, also on Main Street.
-- You can look at the stone angel that once took her place outside the railroad station which is now safely on display inside the Brattleboro Public Library.
-- Gaze at the first mountain anyone really sees once they cross into Vermont. The mountain that's looking over the small town nestled under it's protective gaze by the banks of the Connecticut River.
-- You can avoid terrible coffee at Dunkin' Donuts.
-- You can park on Flat Street across from where that horrible disco used to be and head into one of the best thrift stores on the planet, "Experienced Goods."
-- You can wander the aisles of Bakers Book Store and still smell the ink and look at the pens and pencils.
-- You can walk across the wonderful, industrial bridge from Vermont to New Hampshire (just past The River View Restaurant) and stare down into the same dark water and marvel that almost a century ago (1920) D. W. Griffith shot a Hollywood movie (Way Down East, starring Lillian Gish) out there in that water. The icy, cold, dark, river water.
Gish. The river in Brattleboro. 1920.
Check this out. That's Lillian Gish. On a slab of ice. In the middle of the Connecticut River. Spring, in Vt. Early spring, pre-mud season. For those who know how violent the ice breaking up on the river can be, it's astonishing to consider that any actress would agree to this shot. That's dedication.
A melodrama. Of course.You can turn down any street and check out some very wonderful architecture from pre-WWII and before.
-- You can look at the Memorial Park hill where some of us first learned to ski and think "What? That's not so steep after all."
-- You can eat a nice meal at a restaurant oddly called "The Backside." I recommend the tarragon eggs. The oil prints on the walls are very mesmerizing in an industrial, fantastical, Dali-esque way. Very good spot to people-watch the crazies in Harmony Lot just outside back door of Book store.
-- You can buy a uniquely opinionated bumper sticker at the book store just under Common Ground called "Everyone's Books."
-- You can go to downtown Brattleboro on Saturday, June 6th to see 100 cows strut their stuff down Main Street. A dairy festival follows the the cow parade. Apparently this event is always held during the first weekend in June. (Which I plan to do next year, since I missed it this one.)
-- You can stroll down to the Co-Op to eat a delicious meal prepared by local folk who know how to cook. (Almost as good as Common Ground used to be.)
-- You can look at the old BCPA and pray someone restores it to the fine theater facility it used to be.
-- You can walk with your mother up a dirt road and marvel how time changes almost everything, but mercifully not that which really matters.
For my mother's 70th birthday, I joined her for her daily stroll with her beloved dogs.
And then, almost as quickly as I arrived, I returned back to California.
Here today, gone tomorrow, and all because of that pesky thing called "life."
Important lessons learned from this particular trip home:
1. Tell everyone that you love, that you do.
2. Treasure the people who have been loyal to you through all the years.
3. Grab life at every opportunity to do that which you wish you had, but did not do before.
If there is a phrase more specific than 'Carpe diem' for this, I do not know what it is.
1. Tell everyone that you love, that you do.
2. Treasure the people who have been loyal to you through all the years.
3. Grab life at every opportunity to do that which you wish you had, but did not do before.
If there is a phrase more specific than 'Carpe diem' for this, I do not know what it is.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)