So, sidewalk chalk can be dangerous. I was just reminded of that by a friend's facebook post, which reminded me of this story, which happened years ago. My sister sent her little girls out with sidewalk chalk to play with the neighbors. About an hour or so later, she heard her daughters and their little friends loudly chanting "Bum and peanuts!"
She found this a little odd, of course, and decided to investigate. Out on her driveway she discovered crude drawings of body parts, one like a curvy w and the other decidedly phallic. There was one little boy in the neighborhood, and in what I can only imagine was a clumsy attempt at asserting his maleness, he began to draw self portraits that the girls didn't understand. When they questioned him about what he had drawn, they misheard his reply, and finding the phrase delightfully absurd, began chanting "bum and peanuts."
Ah, sidewalk chalk. It can be a window to the soul.
And, if you are ever in need of a faux swear word, may I suggest "bum and peanuts."
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
What would make the world better today? Foursquare!
I read over the last three post titles and realized they betrayed my current state of confusion and insecurity. I don't like to feel confused and insecure, certainly, but more importantly, I don't want to appear confused and insecure. So I'm totally going to pretend I'm over it and change the subject in hopes of deflecting your attention from my woesome failings.
I've been keeping a list in my head of all the abandoned practices from elementary school that I think we should consider employing in adult life. Here's what I've come up with so far:
A. Four square
Admit it, you miss this game. Four square was the best game ever. You could make up utterly stupid rules, and as long as you were winning and called rules fair and square, you were good--double hits, slams, around-the-world. I love that red rubber ball. I think every workplace should have a hallway big enough for a four square and a red bouncy ball tucked away. Then, when everybody's stressed out and sick of each other and nothing is budging no matter how hard we try, everybody gets in line and we play four square and everybody gangs up and slams the boss. Or maybe if we scheduled 15 minutes in the morning and fifteen minutes in the afternoon. I might suggest this at our next staff meeting.
B. On a related note: Tetherball
C. Art projects: When was the last time you shaved crayons between two sheets of waxed paper, applied a hot iron to melt it, allowed it to cool, and cut shapes out the hang in your window? If you are anything like me, it's been too long. Too damn long.
D. Chorus. Did you have a chorus at your elementary school? Did you join in the early morning shout of patriotic jubilation? I totally did. And we were always singing something like "I'm Proud to Be an American" or "The Candy Man" or "The World is a Rainbow."
Sidenote: When was the last time you saw a rainbow made up of yellow, black and white and brown? That would be the worst rainbow in the history of the light spectrum.
I'm pretty sure my mom just liked getting us out the door a half hour earlier than usual. We also had a children's choir in my ward when I was a kid, and we were delightful, singing such classics as "Where is Heaven?" I'm fairly certain, though, that we all attended practice after Primary anxiously awaiting the strains of "Sing your way home" followed by a treat on the way out the door. Still, I will say this, a resounding declarative statement: We do not sing nearly enough as adults.
E. Carnival/Field day: Every fall and every spring, someone should throw a big party where all we have to do is show up, square dance, and eat at the bake sale. Foot races are optional. I call I'm not in charge of planning anything.
F. Reading time: After lunch, every day, someone should read to us for fifteen minutes. It should be a law of nature, like gravity or the water cycle. It just should happen.
G. Summer break: Totally self-explanatory.
Now, don't think I'm glossing over the indignities of childhood--I remember cafeteria lunches and mean girls and not having control over anything from my wardrobe to my schedule. I just don't know why we threw the baby out with the bathwater. There was some good stuff there that perhaps we should have held on to.
Update: Also, I want to make one of those Valentine's Day mailboxes out out of a shoe box. I don't care about the Valentines, I just want to decoupage a shoe box. Yellow conversation hearts, though, will be happily accepted anytime.
I've been keeping a list in my head of all the abandoned practices from elementary school that I think we should consider employing in adult life. Here's what I've come up with so far:
A. Four square
Admit it, you miss this game. Four square was the best game ever. You could make up utterly stupid rules, and as long as you were winning and called rules fair and square, you were good--double hits, slams, around-the-world. I love that red rubber ball. I think every workplace should have a hallway big enough for a four square and a red bouncy ball tucked away. Then, when everybody's stressed out and sick of each other and nothing is budging no matter how hard we try, everybody gets in line and we play four square and everybody gangs up and slams the boss. Or maybe if we scheduled 15 minutes in the morning and fifteen minutes in the afternoon. I might suggest this at our next staff meeting.
B. On a related note: Tetherball
C. Art projects: When was the last time you shaved crayons between two sheets of waxed paper, applied a hot iron to melt it, allowed it to cool, and cut shapes out the hang in your window? If you are anything like me, it's been too long. Too damn long.
D. Chorus. Did you have a chorus at your elementary school? Did you join in the early morning shout of patriotic jubilation? I totally did. And we were always singing something like "I'm Proud to Be an American" or "The Candy Man" or "The World is a Rainbow."
Sidenote: When was the last time you saw a rainbow made up of yellow, black and white and brown? That would be the worst rainbow in the history of the light spectrum.
I'm pretty sure my mom just liked getting us out the door a half hour earlier than usual. We also had a children's choir in my ward when I was a kid, and we were delightful, singing such classics as "Where is Heaven?" I'm fairly certain, though, that we all attended practice after Primary anxiously awaiting the strains of "Sing your way home" followed by a treat on the way out the door. Still, I will say this, a resounding declarative statement: We do not sing nearly enough as adults.
E. Carnival/Field day: Every fall and every spring, someone should throw a big party where all we have to do is show up, square dance, and eat at the bake sale. Foot races are optional. I call I'm not in charge of planning anything.
F. Reading time: After lunch, every day, someone should read to us for fifteen minutes. It should be a law of nature, like gravity or the water cycle. It just should happen.
G. Summer break: Totally self-explanatory.
Now, don't think I'm glossing over the indignities of childhood--I remember cafeteria lunches and mean girls and not having control over anything from my wardrobe to my schedule. I just don't know why we threw the baby out with the bathwater. There was some good stuff there that perhaps we should have held on to.
Update: Also, I want to make one of those Valentine's Day mailboxes out out of a shoe box. I don't care about the Valentines, I just want to decoupage a shoe box. Yellow conversation hearts, though, will be happily accepted anytime.
Saturday, September 15, 2012
I think I just got adopted by a cat?
She snuck right in and made herself at home, and now she's snoozing on the barstool next to me. Huh. Do I want a cat? Can I handle a cat? Can I possibly turn away this warm little thing who apparently thinks I'm fairly cool in a month during which every other event has nearly convinced me that I'm a rat who perhaps should go dig a hole and pull the dirt in over me? Huh.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Will I be ridden out of Utah county by an angry mob with torches and pitchforks if I write a blog post containing my true feelings about the Republican National Convention?
I hate politics. I tend to mistrust the motives of pretty much anyone who would want to be president. I'm neither a Democrat or a Republican, and honestly, that is because both parties have ideas with which I fundamentally disagree. When I both search my soul and apply all of my critical thinking skills (which, I freely admit are not stellar, but it's what I got) to the communication on both sides of the political divide, I find myself deeply uneasy. I may have mentioned this before. I preface what I'm about to write with this because I don't want anyone to assume that because I'm criticizing the Republican National Convention, I am casting my lot with the Democrats. I have no doubt I'll have some problems with their pep rally in Charlotte, as well. I just wanted to air out the discomfort I felt this week.
I only watched Ann Romney's speech. I did read Mitt's speech after the fact, and was disappointed. He made a lot of promises (some of which I didn't like at all--his stance on energy concerns me) but not a lot of ideas on how he would accomplish them. That's a problem, I think. He also insinuated that because I have spent my career in public education and a municipal library I am unfit for government. My experience in small business, the realm that apparently is more important than any other human pursuit (except maybe parenthood--gee, I'm SOL on that one too. Do I even have a right to exist?), was demoralizing. Greed and status was the motivating factor in everything my employers did, and I withered while I worked there. Many small businesses do wonderful, productive things for our society. Others don't. Private v. public does not equal good v. evil, and the fact that current Republicans are unable to have a more nuanced conversation about it is more than a little disappointing.
I watched so little of the RNC because I didn't have all that much time to devote to something I find so pointless, especially since every one of Utah's electoral votes will always go to whomever the Republican nominee is. I'd much rather devote my political attention to local government, where it might actually matter. But I made a point of listening to Ann Romney. I didn't love Mrs. Romney's speech. Pretty much everyone I know will disown me for admitting that, but it's absolutely the truth. The part that bothered me the most(at least the one I'm willing to write about publicly) was this: She said "Mitt doesn't like to talk about how he has helped others because he sees it as a privilege, not a political talking point." That sentence stopped me in my tracks. 'Dear Sister Romney,' I thought, 'he may not like to make his service and generosity a political talking point, but you just did.' I don't doubt that Mitt Romney has helped people, and served and given of his abundance. But you don't get to have it both ways. It was a boast, and a boast used strategically to boost a political career. Do it or don't, I don't care. But call a spade a spade.
Here's the other thing, and I might just be infected by "class warfare" that the Republicans like to accuse their opponents of fomenting, but every time it comes up how generous the Romneys are, I can't help but think of the New Testament, in Luke, when Christ explains to his disciples how He interprets the scene they are watching at the temple:
1 And he looked up, and saw the rich men casting their gifts into the treasury.
2 And he saw also a certain poor widow casting in thither two mites.
3 And he said, Of a truth I say unto you, that this poor widow hath cast in more than they all:
4 For all these have of their abundance cast in unto the offerings of God: but she of her penury hath cast in all the living that she had. (Luke 21, KJV)
It just comes to mind over and over again during this entire campaign, on both sides of the aisle.
And don't even get me started on Paul Ryan. I don't care how smart your are or how knowledgeable about the budget. Anyone who has ever listed Ayn Rand as a serious philosophical influence is dangerous.
Ugh. I may be writing another critical post soon decrying the Democrats. I may not, though, but only because I don't know if my heart can take it anymore. Today was a bad day in my personal life, and I'm tempted to just dig a hole and pull the dirt over me for good. And the wider world--at least the political one--well, I hold out little hope there for increasing peace and happiness. Here I am again: All that's left for me is on my knees, pleading for something that may not even be within my grasp in this mortal spere.
My mission president's favorite hymn was "Come O Thou King of Kings." I didn't get it then. I do now.
Hope your week was better than mine. Peace.
I only watched Ann Romney's speech. I did read Mitt's speech after the fact, and was disappointed. He made a lot of promises (some of which I didn't like at all--his stance on energy concerns me) but not a lot of ideas on how he would accomplish them. That's a problem, I think. He also insinuated that because I have spent my career in public education and a municipal library I am unfit for government. My experience in small business, the realm that apparently is more important than any other human pursuit (except maybe parenthood--gee, I'm SOL on that one too. Do I even have a right to exist?), was demoralizing. Greed and status was the motivating factor in everything my employers did, and I withered while I worked there. Many small businesses do wonderful, productive things for our society. Others don't. Private v. public does not equal good v. evil, and the fact that current Republicans are unable to have a more nuanced conversation about it is more than a little disappointing.
I watched so little of the RNC because I didn't have all that much time to devote to something I find so pointless, especially since every one of Utah's electoral votes will always go to whomever the Republican nominee is. I'd much rather devote my political attention to local government, where it might actually matter. But I made a point of listening to Ann Romney. I didn't love Mrs. Romney's speech. Pretty much everyone I know will disown me for admitting that, but it's absolutely the truth. The part that bothered me the most(at least the one I'm willing to write about publicly) was this: She said "Mitt doesn't like to talk about how he has helped others because he sees it as a privilege, not a political talking point." That sentence stopped me in my tracks. 'Dear Sister Romney,' I thought, 'he may not like to make his service and generosity a political talking point, but you just did.' I don't doubt that Mitt Romney has helped people, and served and given of his abundance. But you don't get to have it both ways. It was a boast, and a boast used strategically to boost a political career. Do it or don't, I don't care. But call a spade a spade.
Here's the other thing, and I might just be infected by "class warfare" that the Republicans like to accuse their opponents of fomenting, but every time it comes up how generous the Romneys are, I can't help but think of the New Testament, in Luke, when Christ explains to his disciples how He interprets the scene they are watching at the temple:
1 And he looked up, and saw the rich men casting their gifts into the treasury.
2 And he saw also a certain poor widow casting in thither two mites.
3 And he said, Of a truth I say unto you, that this poor widow hath cast in more than they all:
4 For all these have of their abundance cast in unto the offerings of God: but she of her penury hath cast in all the living that she had. (Luke 21, KJV)
It just comes to mind over and over again during this entire campaign, on both sides of the aisle.
And don't even get me started on Paul Ryan. I don't care how smart your are or how knowledgeable about the budget. Anyone who has ever listed Ayn Rand as a serious philosophical influence is dangerous.
Ugh. I may be writing another critical post soon decrying the Democrats. I may not, though, but only because I don't know if my heart can take it anymore. Today was a bad day in my personal life, and I'm tempted to just dig a hole and pull the dirt over me for good. And the wider world--at least the political one--well, I hold out little hope there for increasing peace and happiness. Here I am again: All that's left for me is on my knees, pleading for something that may not even be within my grasp in this mortal spere.
My mission president's favorite hymn was "Come O Thou King of Kings." I didn't get it then. I do now.
Hope your week was better than mine. Peace.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
I am the anti-cupid
Natasha, though, was a bit reticent. She didn't want to be caught and may have been a bit annoyed with Boris. I find squirrel flirting very difficult to interpret. Suddenly, she darted out in front of my wheels, crossed the road, and didn't look back. Boris was just far enough behind to have to stop in order to save his own lusty life. He sat up on his hind legs, looked longingly toward Natasha bounding up the stream then, I kid you not, gave me the stink eye.
I got news for him, though. Natasha was having none of it. He needs to slow his roll and let her really get to know him, stop pressuring her and let the relationship develop organically.
I may be anthropomorphizing here.
Last, sort of related thing. As I was searching for illustrations to accompany this post (which, by the way, I think probably actually show squirrels fighting or something, but whatever), I found this little dollop of awesomeness:
And now, it is time for me to go to sleep because I have to be to work in 6 and a half hours. And I'm so tired, I just wrote a short paragraph about squirrel porn. Blurgh. 'Night.
Monday, August 20, 2012
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