Unwritten Rules are Still Rules

People used to share a body of unwritten rules, most of which were based on common courtesy, such as a group on a sidewalk reformatting to make room for others to use the walkway at the same time, rather than having to step off the curb and into the roadway to avoid the inconsiderate pack of sidewalk hogs. People who accidentally banged into other people standing in line, perhaps in a full restaurant, apologized and tried to be more careful while waiting for their table. People whose bodily functions performed at inappropriate times/places said a quiet "excuse me," and we all moved on, usually without a single "F word" voiced.

The most important unwritten rule currently impacting my life is that the
one who brings the dog to the dog park picks up that dog's poop. Because of extreme vandalism at the newer, bigger, better dog park in the valley, many more dogs are showing up at the smaller park in the Civic Center, which means a whole lot more poop is being deposited on the grass. The displaced dog owners from the bigger park, however, instead of watching their dogs and/or interacting with them, spend their time talking/texting. Because they do not pay attention to their dogs doing their duty, the piles of poop create a hazardous waste disposal site for the rest of us.

Yesterday, one of the older dog owners walked up to the sweet young thing who was talking on her phone and told her that her dog pooped, so she needed to go clean it up. SYT looked around the park and said, "There's a man who's paid to do that," and kept talking.

"No," the older lady responded, "there is a man who is scooping poop because no one is picking up their dogs' poop, but he's just one of the dog owners, not someone who is paid to pick up poop."

"Oh," SYT responded, sounding irritated. "Well, since he's doing it anyway, I'll thank him after I finish this call."

Had she been the only dog owner getting away with this, perhaps it could have been chalked up to selfishness, but we older folks noticed quite quickly that it's generational: we feel obligated to pick up after our dogs because it's the unwritten rule of the dog park, while the younger generation believe that "someone," preferably a paid employee, should do that for them.

While many of the older dog owners have mixed breed dogs and enjoy watching them play with the other dogs, the younger owners appear to have pedigreed dogs that they bring to the dog park the same way that their pedigreed children go to child care: drop off/pick up. I surmise that if the dog is special, so is its owner, and that means that you don't watch your dog, or play with your dog, or scoop poop.

Let's hope that the city finds the funds to repair the extensive damage to the newer, bigger, better dog park, the one with a full-time employee who scoops poop!

AH-HA, My Computer: I Fixed U

There are no short stories in my life, just really, really long ones that I try to abbreviate with limited success. That being said, one day I turned on my mini laptop and up popped a window that asked me a series of questions, to which I of course responded with agree until I finished with all the options. I have no idea what the questions were, why I responded to them, or why I ended up with a new network controlling my wi-fi, but that's what happened. I no longer could use my big laptop, nor access the internet on my TV, but I could use the mini to my heart's content.

Since that happened, I've asked everyone with proximity to a computer (1) what did I do and (2) how do I undo it? No positive responses, so life continued with me no longer able to use my big laptop because it required some kind of identification number about which I had no conscious knowledge. And then came today, when one of my international students came down to wish me a happy birthday and go out to lunch. He brought along his laptop, and after he logged onto my wi-fi, we now had a new network -- this one with his name and no idea how to either delete it or deal with it.

After a couple of hours of fretting and fussing, we went to lunch so we could ponder what had happened and what we were going to do about it. Nothing came to mind, so when we returned to my home, I suggested that I use the straightened paperclip and reset the router. AH-HA indeed: with all of the computers turned off, I reset the router and voila! I could once again log onto the wi-fi with the big laptop and access the internet on my TV, which meant the daily weather in my designated sites, as well as Netflix. We no longer saw the newest wi-fi network Yucheng created, and he was logged onto the same one as my computers.

My determination is that I no longer need to know what I did to cause the problem as long as I never power up the mini at my home. I'm sure that if I ever make that mistake again, I will have to deal with Yucheng's new network, rather than the former new one I inadvertently created, so I'm taping a note to the mini to remind me never to turn it on within range of my wi-fi.

When I can't fix a problem, I often find a work-around, and thankfully, I found one today that worked.

Second Season TV

Without question, my favorite TV season is the second season, the one that spans the summer months, especially on the "off-network" channels. The programs are smarter, more well-written, often better acted, and more engaging than the Fall season, which seems to be a far-too-often formulaic presentation of unreal reality shows, lame game shows, totally uncomedic sit coms, and themes that hold absolutely no interest for me, including anything with housewives, unique/dysfunctional families, teenagers, and vampires.

Last night, the third full day and night of unrelenting, powerful winds that have me totally on edge, I taped CHAOS, which is supposed to portray a unique CIA special operative group. I've tried to come up with even one redeeming quality about the show, and it's simply not there. The basic premise is faulty, the writing is sophomoric, the acting is pedantic, and the action scenes are a woefully off-kilter rip-off of Get Smart!

Get Smart featured a savvy suit, an agent with the ability to ponder, then pontificate in a way that was hilarious. Agent Smart could think his way out of any situation, either deliberately or inadvertently, but he was clever in the process. In the new cast, the Agent Smart character totally lacks the charisma necessary to either be serious or be funny, which leaves him falling flat and a meaningless distraction. The token Hispanic minority male character loses his credability when he hits on his stereotypical blonde female boss, who plays him like a violin, which very few women do in today's workplace because jobs are too hard to find after one is fired and sued for sexual harassment. The macho agent, Eric Close, was much, much better as a cop on one of the major network "law" franchises. If he gave up that job for this one, it's a career killer.

The scripts appear to be the semester end-product of a college screenwriting class, wherein each class member is told to create a character that could function within a common setting, with the operative word being "could," rather than "can." The magic words, cohesion, coherence, and significance, are woefully lacking, perhaps in part because the mediocre cast lacks the acting chops to pull off a really mediocre script. The two back-to-back episodes I watched featured faulty scripts from the setting to the situation to the conflict to the dialog. The smarmy asides, as well as the contrived smart talk, creates caricatures, rather than developing characters, a device used by inexperienced, immature writers to cover their inability to write well.

And, when it comes to 21st century action scenes, who sends in a team of CIA operatives, all dressed in suits/ties/tie-on shoes, to a foreign country in a crisis situation -- and expects them to carpool? Agents who purchase their hi-tech equipment at a Chinese "adult toy store?" Agents who fight the bad guys with high kicks and karate chops, enemies who fire real guns with real bullets back at them? When the most engaging fight scene is a staged lover's spat based on a two-year relationship way back when, you know this show is not going to be back for another shot at making it.

I'm going to remain optimistic that there will be a few good shows over the summer, so I'll keep DVRing and previewing before I set up for recording any new season. CHAOS will not be on my second season TV viewing list.

A Miss is as Good as a Mile

I love my backyard and enjoy spending time outside when (a) the wind isn't howling and (2) the sun is not directly overhead. Each year, I do a clean-up that includes painting some of the outdoor furniture and adding other pieces. This year, I wanted to add a "coffee table" in front of the wrought iron bench, but could not find what I wanted in one piece, so settled for 2 small matching tables. I checked the box for assembly, saw the "no tools required," and figured why pay the big box store clerk $10 per table to snap something together?

Great plan; poor execution. The directions are ... a snap: cross the two sets of legs, snap them into the leg receptacle, right table, and use. Done, done, and cannot do!!

Legs crossed, in position, two sides into the receptacles, two more to go. How hard can it be to push the other two legs into the plastic leg receptacles? Very, very hard because there is no "give" in the legs: none. Additionally, the plastic leg receptacles don't come out of the tracks or move past the curve of the design. Two legs in, but two that won't go in one way or another!!

As this photo makes clear, the legs are a full 1-1/2" longer than the inside rim of the table. Not only do the legs have to be inside the rim, but they also have to pull back far enough to slide into the plastic receptacles. Ain't gonna happen no way!! I have read the easy-to-follow picture directions and even done the stupid "maybe if I exchange the identical legs" routine, but the legs are too long to fit behind the rim and into the plastic receptacle. It looks so simple, but it defies my ability to complete the snap together process.

So, now what do I do? Do I drive all the way back across the freeway to the big box store, find a friendly clerk, and then pay him/her $10 each to push the legs into the receptacles? The positive outcome of this plan is that if the clerk snaps the glass top, s/he replaces it; the negative is, of course, that the tables were already twice as much as I wanted to pay, so adding another $20 makes this a foolish purchase.

Maks'd Out

DWTS is always fun, but it's not always fair. For instance, Kirstie going the distance and standing there as one of the final two? You have to be kidding! She was out-danced so many times, by so many performers, that the question arises whether the outcome is pre-determined. Week after week, I've wondered how Kirstie survived elimination, but last night, I was stunned that she "beat out" Chelsey, who consistently danced rings around the competition, including Hines Ward, this season's winner, and most especially Kirstie -- but came in third.

At least Kirstie is a good sport: Maks again made his displeasure known when "he" did not win his 10th competition. Perhaps, if the public voted on the best professional partner, Maks would win, but the voting is supposed to reflect the "star" performance, not the professional's. Week after week, season after season, it's been all about Maks, and his attitude takes away from the star's performance. Last night, Maks let the world know that "he" won this year, using his own criteria for winning/losing, but is again denied the first-place finish. In the past, Maks disparaged Derek, but Derek wasn't there this season to steal the trophy from Maks -- and still Maks didn't win. Perhaps, if this is his 10th season of discontent, it is time for Maks to find another venue for his performance skills.

Yes, Kirstie finished the show looking a whole lot better physically than when she began, but this was not another weight-loss competition, it was a dance competition. Kirstie's dancing was adequate, but not amazing. Last night, in particular, I was shocked when Kirstie received all 10s because her performance was average and should have been 7s. Kirstie was not one of the best dancers of the season, and her performance last night did not deserve top honors.

I did enjoy the variety of performers showcased as part of the season finale, but we could have wrapped up the whole season in a half-hour show that concentrated on the finalists, rather than prolonging the announcement of the winners and jamming it into the final five minutes, almost as an after-thought.

From My Corner of the World

WHEW: thank God we're going to have another go at the Rapture in October. I missed it last week, but I think that the people in Joplin believe it happened in their neighborhood. All those fanatics who gave away their life savings could have better spent their funds helping out those in the path of the tornadoes in Mississippi.

Watching Hines in his drum major costume toss around his dance partner, Kim, in her cheerleader costume was akin to watching a weird adult porn movie without the porn. Imagine my surprise when they scored such high marks because I totally thought they both missed the mark completely.

Nice to hear on Sirius that the rest of the world is catching up with me in thinking that the live-in household staff is on the hook for her role of the 'negger scandal, as well as acknowledging that Arnold is now, and always has been, a poon dawg. Just as Tiger's entourage of high-priced hookers had their day in the media glare, so will the Govenator's side dish, Patty, and perhaps her fellow slumber party-goers, who are out there and praying that no one connects them to this scandal. The media will find Patty, one way or another, and it's going to get ugly when the spotlight focuses on her, beginning with, "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING??"

And someone must have read son's blog about PEDs because yesterday, on the Barbara Walters Sirius radio program, Bill echoed my son's thoughts: who cares? Everyone is using them, so everyone has the same opportunity to benefit from performance enhancing drugs, so what is the problem? He also echoed son's sentiment that a person who's going to hit the ball out of the park while using steroids could also hit it out of the park without using PEDs, but the person who isn't able to hit the ball out of the park won't hit it out of the park no matter what he takes. They are performance enhancing drugs, not performance inducing drugs.

Akin to this issue is the reason why students cheat: because everyone else is cheating. If they don't cheat, too, they end up with lower grades than the cheaters, and if everyone is doing it, everyone wants to be doing it! Same with sexual experimentation, drugs, horrendous fights with the parents, running away, on-line instant friendships: everyone's doing it, so I'm going to do it too because I want to be an everyone, NOT a nobody.

Ditto: flash mobs. Makes a great YouTube video, which, for some people, becomes their only claim to fame: yeah, I was in that mob. Wow, that was totally awesome. Uh, I'm not sure which one of the thousand people is me, but I was there, dude! I was there! Herd mentality used to be something we tried to avoid, not emulate. It was better to be an outstanding individual than a faceless member of a huge crowd caught up in the moment.

Over the weekend, I cleaned up the backyard, repainted the sand-damaged furniture, washed off the layers of grit from every conceivable surface, put up the sun shades, and finished just in time for the gale winds to blow again. I love sitting outside, especially in the early morning, but it's still not doable in the desert due to the constant high winds. Yeah, I'll be complaining when it's in triple digits and not a breath of wind to be found, but the opposite end of the spectrum is just as frustrating in my corner of the world.

Making Hay While the Sun Shines

AP published a story (found on yahoo.com) on the uproar over CA lifeguard salaries, hoping to clarify the public perception that lifeguards make a boatload of money for not doing too much. The head of the lifeguard union, however, made if perfectly clear that ...

"Unfortunately, there's a lot of disinformation out there. People get this idea that we're talking about 17-year-old kids in lifeguard towers making $200,000 and that's not correct," he said. "We're professional level. Lifeguarding here is different than any other place in the entire world."

Base salaries for Newport Beach lifeguards range from $58,000 for the lowest-paid officer to $108,492 for the top-paid battalion chief, according to a 2010 city report on lifeguard pay. Adding in overtime, special compensation, pension, medical benefits, life insurance and other pay, two battalion chiefs cleared more than $200,000 in 2010, while the lowest-paid officer made more than $98,000.

All lifeguards received $400 in sunscreen allowance and two cleared $28,000 apiece in overtime and night duty pay."

Wow, the lifeguards are totally correct: they are so not over-paid for the professional job they do. Why, I've worked as a classroom teacher for 35 years, earning a BA, an MS, and accruing 78 post-graduate credits by taking courses required to keep current. I've worked extra-curricular assignments that often kept me on-site until from 7 am until 10 pm, and, sometimes, much, much later for duties such as prom. However, the highest salary I earned was $75,000, with no over-time pay, no stipend for classroom supplies or sunscreen, and I, too, am on a professional level.

I also well know that teaching here is very different from teaching anywhere else in the world because, unlike the lifeguards, who do not need to teach every individual beach attendee how to swim before allowing them to go into the water, a CA teacher has to assure that every single student graduates from high school, one way or another -- or lose their job.

If I am the well-educated, well-trained professional in the classroom, my "overtime, special compensation, pension, medical benefits, life insurance and other pay" should at least be commensurate with the professional ranks of a lifeguard: Base salaries for Newport Beach lifeguards range from $58,000 for the lowest-paid officer to $108,492.

Add to that all the extra-duty pay and sunscreen allowance and even I'd stay on the job for a few more years.

Right/Wrong or Somewhere Between?

It's hard to tell the difference between right and wrong these days as it's defined by so many variables: race, religion, cultural customs, sexual orientation, political preferences, age. Oh, the list is endless, and the list is being publicized like crazy this week. There is no single, solid ethical code of conduct, just the parade of situational ethics, and those encompass all of the other variables of life, such as one's perception being that person's reality, to the exclusion of anyone else's perception and/or reality, which forces all people to live by one person's perception.

For instance, high school refs wore pink whistles with their black and white striped ensemble, without asking the ref king for permission beforehand. Now, they didn't wear pink whistles on a whim, but to show support for breast cancer awareness -- 7 months ago. They were chastised at the time, but now they are being hammered because they didn't go through channels prior to wearing the whistles (channels being the ref king). So, although the refs thought they had been forgiven with the warning not to let this egregious action happen again, they are now going to lose play-off jobs for two (yes, 2) full seasons because the ref king is worried about the message being sent to young people by the refs who took it upon themselves to wear the pink whistles without first clearing it with the ref king.

Me, too.

It's clear that the young athletes are being sent a strong message, but I'm not thinking about the crime of wearing the whistle, but the strong-arm tactics from a control freak who negates the pride of supporting cancer awareness with his meglomania! Yes, the refs wore pink whistles to support breast cancer awareness, but it's clear to me that the more offensive action was failing to ask the ref king's permission. I totally hope everyone gets the real message: Do NOT leave the ref king out of the loop.

Moving on, is Patty, the Govenator's baby mama, going down with Arnold for fraud? She covered up his paternity throughout her pregnancy, birth, and infancy of the child before confronting Arnold with a toddler who bears an uncanny resemblance to him. She not only falsified the birth certificate, but lied to her husband, her employers, and her son, too. However, last January, she threatened/blackmailed the 'negger family into going public with the dirty laundry because Arnold's pissed-off wife fired her when she found out that the last 14 years of her life have been a fraud. What, really, did Patty expect, other than what she's already been given, that is.

Arnold is still an ass, but his housekeeper has gone from committing adultery with her employer to being a criminal. Arnold did not just kick her to the curb when she revealed his paternity about a decade ago: he bought her a very nice house far from the scene of the crime; he's paid her monthly child support; he kept her on the payroll for a dozen years after she told him her child is his; and now he's taking very public responsibility for what he -- and she -- did that has resulted in the destruction of his life as he's always known it, along with his wife and his other four children.

What more does she want?

This is another case of be careful what you wish for: you try to blackmail the really rich and famous, and you end up being dragged through the mud with them. Hope you enjoy reaping the rewards of the blackmail, Patty. Didn't turn out quite the way you envisioned it? Better check your immigration status while you're at it. You've shamed Arnold, but you've pissed off his wife, and you don't mess with a however distant Kennedy!!

And, the head of the IMF came out of the shower naked and sporting wood, saw the maid bent over her housecleaning tasks, and decided that was a come on? That she wanted him; she really, really wanted him ... to physically attack her and have sex? Really? That's all it takes, being in proximity to a rich, powerful, old man with a hard-on? Guess I'm all the more happy that I live in an unremarkable house in a marginal neighborhood, and don't clean motel rooms for a living.

Life used to be so much easier. If you went to church, you learned 10 simple rules for living life: The Ten Commandments. If that was too hard, society boiled it down to one rule: The Golden Rule. And, much later, we all realized that we learned everything we needed to know in kindergarten, and almost everyone made it at least that far in the public education system! Either obey the ten "thou shalt nots" or the one "do unto," or read the book about kindergarten, but for God's sake, at least have some sort of moral compass or ethical platform for living life. Today, we're just all behaving badly, pointing the fingers of blame anywhere but at ourselves, and bullying our way through anyone in our way, probably prefacing our rampage with a string of profanity in the process.

Two wrongs don't make a right, nor does doing the right thing for the wrong reasons, or the wrong thing for all the right reasons, or any of that other nonsense. Life is not all about me, it's all about all of us, but you'd never know it from the way people are living life this week.

Well, Whaddya Know?

Arnold fathered a child with a member of the household staff 10 years ago, but he chose to withhold that information until after he completed his second term as The Govenator. Power of the Press trumps the Wife is the Last to Know. Arnold got what he wanted, in many more ways than the obvious, while his wife gets to live with his betrayal. Arnold is publicly proclaiming that "we love each other very much," while his soon-to-be ex-wife raises her chin, looks the cameras straight into the aperture, and keeps her mouth shut. See ya in court, Arnold.

And when it comes to media coverage, why is it that a person who is homosexual and pushes the "it's all about me" boundaries with the rest of the world is simply claiming his/her rights, while a person who is heterosexual and challenges the homosexual's commitment to changing the world to accommodate his/her lifestyle, is denying the homosexual's rights? If your rights end where my rights begin, then why cannot I say that I do not think the front page coverage of a lesbian high school couple attending prom together is ... appropriate? Young people try everything at least once, but sometimes find themselves living one of life's choices forever, perhaps with an unplanned pregnancy and, sometimes, with a sexuality label.

Homosexuals have made the Palm Springs area "theirs" to the exclusion of any other social/cultural/ethnic group, so the support for the lesbian high school couple is strong, while anyone who questions the front page photos and story is wrong. If I live in PS, shop in PS, eat in PS, vacation in PS, the assumption is made that I am gay! I'd rather simply be another resident, another visitor, another diner, another shopper, rather than be labeled by what someone thinks my sexual orientation may be. And, if I am a high school prom attendee, I'm not sure that I want the front page coverage of my current sexuality to be who I am for the rest of my life.

On another news front, someone inside a local home shot and killed a pit bull; police are investigating, but the media is sensationalizing. What possibly could have happened? Oh, let's think about that for a minute: perhaps the pit bull turned on someone living in the house. No one stops a pit bull on a rampage, so pulling a gun and shooting it might be the only alternative to save the lives of anyone inside the house. How come, within the huge circus of media coverage, no one hypothesized that scenario? How come the reporters on the scene were, instead, going with all kinds of Law & Order scenarios that included gangs, criminal activity, love triangles, and any other recent TV script possibilities. It is often true that the simplest reason is the correct reason, but that doesn't sell papers, as we used to say.

Last on the list this fine day is publicly flagellating the design idiot who not only decided, but then convinced the city to accept, a redesign of the streets wherein a triangle of cement borders for streetside planters jut into the traffic lanes!! The idea of adding the sidewalk foliage is okay, but designing diamond-shaped planters that cut off available street usage, as well as limit parking access, is sheer folly. Many, many local people have complained, especially after causing damage to their vehicles, but the city claims that "residents like" the upgrades and appearance of the recently-finished project.

Just because the local newspaper does not cover the controversy does not mean the controversy does not exist: it's simply ignored because huge amounts of redevelopment money were spent on another project that failed. These design elements channel storm water into the driving lanes, as well as into businesses that have never been bothered by the elements in the past. And, upon completion of this project, which drove shoppers from the construction zone for almost a year, there are empty businesses where thriving businesses used to be because no one can figure out how to park between the diamond-shaped dividers.

Progress? Perhaps, but the reality is that people who have money spend money, and the people who want money can come up with the most egregious ways to get the money that other people have to spend. Consultants designed the redevelopment plan -- and then took their money and ran. Residents, who were accused of not supporting "progress," are left to live with the aftermath, including the empty buildings wherein businesses used to thrive.

And isn't that what all of life is: learning how to live with the aftermath?

Granny Squares

To make a granny square, combine the bits 'n pieces found in a large stash of yarn to make a colorful, interesting square. Because I have no large thoughts coursing through my head this week, I'm going to construct granny squares from all the little thoughts crowding my mind.

First, I did not realize that Japan moved so much during the last earthquake that many areas may never recover from the devastation because the earth upon which they live is 9 feet lower than previously. If that were to happen to the coastline of CA, the waves would be lapping on the other side of San Gorgonio! Looking at the USGS earthquake map shows that the huge ring from Japan's side of the Pacific Ocean to the coast of California is shaking, so there may be more massive movement in the future throughout the Pacific Ocean that results in more far-reaching devastation.

Rosie O'Donnell was not one of my favorite TV personalities, but I enjoy listening to her on Sirius radio. Rather than being distracted by her facial expressions and body language, I get to listen to what she says -- and find her to be articulate, interesting, challenging, and delightful. Yesterday, she was talking with her cohorts about Bill O'Reilly's latest "left wing" slam, this time aimed at Rosie's question: can we talk about how we went about taking out Bin Laden and the street celebrations that followed? She is not complaining that Bin Laden is dead, but simply questioning the mercenary way the mission was planned and executed. After all the yammering about how the US conducts interrogation, Rosie's question seems to follow naturally: we cannot water board to get information, but we can ... do whatever it takes to kill Bin Laden? I don't agree or disagree, but I like that Rosie asks the questions and then discusses the deeper issues surrounding them. There was more closure when Saddam Hussein was captured, interviewed, then executed, but perhaps that was not an option with Bin Laden. What's done is done, and asking questions does not take anything away from the SEALs mission, but just helps bring another form of closure for those who need it.

Why is anyone shocked that Arnold and Maria have acknowledged their marital split? They've been apart for about a decade, but Kennedy women know how to do the job they were hired to do. Maria signed on to give Arnold legitimacy 25 years ago because he's a hound dawg and has no idea how to be faithful to one woman at a time, much less forsaking all others forever. She's stood by his side for the more public sexual misconduct of his past, and probably for the discrete activity that has been kept out of the press while he's been the Govenator, but Arnold is going back into show biz and he simply cannot keep his hands (or other body parts) to himself. Maria is smart to step aside, pick up her own career once again, and let Arnold flame out on his own.

Regarding the concern parents and school districts have about cyber bullying, take the damned phones away from the kids while they're at school. No kid needs anything more than a 30-minute calls-only phone in case of emergency: no texting, no Facebook, no making movies, no surfing the net, no on-line shopping, no game playing, no cheating on tests while claiming to be answering a text from good ole Mom -- and no cyberbullying while the kids are at school. Kids are not mature enough to make adult decisions, but adults think that their kids only use the phone in case of emergency. All the parent has to do is look at his/her own phone usage to realize that what kids see, kids do. If you want the kids to have a phone in case of emergency, then get them a phone that meets that need and nothing more. If you give them a state-of-the-art phone just like yours, they are going to use it -- just like you.

The dog park is a great idea!! My friend invited me to bring Daisy to the nearby (to her) dog park, so we went last week. Daisy loved it: she played appropriately with other dogs, ran like a recently discharged psycho dog, and slept more soundly that night than any night since she moved in. Yesterday, I decided to take Mia with us as I think that Daisy may have been rubbing it in a bit that she got to go to this cool place while Mia stayed home and sulked. Daisy again had a great time; Mia, not so much. You have to separate the dogs by size, so Daisy went with the smaller dogs, while Mia went to the larger dog area -- and stood next to the chain link fence and barked at me the whole time. Mia refused to engage with the other dogs, even though a couple of them sniffed her. Daisy kept going over to the fence where Mia stood barking, probably wondering why Mia wasn't in the yard with her, romping and stomping with all the other dogs.

As I began to get ready for bed, I found Daisy snuggled underneath the pile of pillows on my bed, sound asleep. Dog park is the only thing I've found that unwinds her enough so that I get to sleep through the night.

Okay, saving the worst for the last, this Saturday morning is the funeral.

A Teachable Moment

Since taking the new Friday class after Spring Break, I’ve found Jane Pratt on my Sirius XM radio. Jane is the living definition of “quirky,” that spontaneous, sometimes inane, but always hilarious ditz who lives life in the moment and enjoys every single minute of it. Today, she and her friend Cynthia were sharing “Bad Mommy” stories with listeners, joined by a long string of callers who also share the dubious distinction of never even being considered in anyone’s wildest dreams for Mother of the Year recognition. Sometimes, our hearts are in the right place, but the execution leaves much to be desired, and other times, well, shit happens.

Jane and Cynthia took their daughters to the piercing pagoda at the mall a week ago because the 8-year-old girls wanted their ears pierced. Cynthia’s mom prepared her daughter for some discomfort, if not a bit of pain, while Jane just let it happen. Of course, Jane’s daughter was shocked by the piercing pain, which then caused Jane to feel bad and proclaim herself a Bad Mommy who wishes she had realized that maybe she should have said something beforehand to her daughter. Shit not only happens, but Jane seems to get more than her share, especially while engaging in mothering activities.

This week, Jane and Cynthia took the daughters to the park to play together, as well as with the new puppy, and again neither Mommy wracked up Mother of the Year points. They not only did not shadow their daughters to protect them from the plethora of pedophiles who, according to the media, lurk in every single shadow wherever children gather, but they allowed the girls to send the puppy down the slide, much to the dismay of a SuperDad, a well-dressed park model wearing bright yellow Crocs. HE did NOT approve of that dog getting doggie DNA all over the slide his child was waiting to use, and he made it well-known that he did NOT approve of the parenting taking place with these two little girls. Jane and Cynthia were so busy talking, laughing, and gossiping that they were not aware of what the girls were doing or the man's reaction to the fun they were having doing it. Bad Mommies.

All of this commentary led to the moment that had me laughing like a maniac and in danger of flooding my Poise pantyliners.

The talk turned to the SuperMoms, the ones for whom every single one of life’s moments is a teachable moment. Examples included Jane pushing and shoving her way through the SuperMoms in the grocery store, the women who turn shopping into an impromptu academic aisle lesson. Jane, always in a hurry, just wants them to get out of her way and conduct the lesson at home, rather than cause a cart pile-up by discussing the health benefits of a pomegranate with a one-year-old. Cynthia chimed in with her favorite SuperMom’s teachable moment, which is conducted in an elevator filled with busy people who must wait for the little child to recognize the 3 on the floor button, then push it and be rewarded with appropriate SuperMom praise and the affirmation to the captive audience that "We're working on our numbers this week." As Jane so aptly concluded, if the elevator makers wanted little children to push the buttons, they would have put the f-ing buttons closer to the floor!

At that point, I lost it, laughing so hard I pulled over until I regained control. Honest to pete, we’ve all thought that, but probably have never had the guts to actually say, “Oh, my God! Will you just push the f-ing floor button and save the numbers lesson for another time/place!”

Which, of course, led to the profound insight that not every moment is a teachable moment, a good way to end the work week and an even better way to celebrate the weekend, and motherhood, by just being in the moment and enjoying the hell out it, whether there’s something to be learned or just life to be lived.

Disability Diversion

During my time on the couch, I've been trying to use up some of the yarn stash that has been accumulating during the past decade. Some women buy shoes, but I either buy cars or yarn, especially when either is on sale. I ordered the yarn by color into individual boxes that make quite a stack in the guest room closet. Slowly, but surely, the boxes are emptying, and I've been much, much better about not making new purchases because I finally realized that I will never live long enough to use up what's already here, much less additional yarn.

After far too many scarves, hats, and fingerless gloves have been made and given away, I decided to make a unique afghan for each of my youngest brother's children -- all 5 of them. When my brother turned 50, I presented him with the first of the left-over project, a huge, huge granny square afghan that weighed a ton, but did actually fit his king-sized bed. After it was finished, I liked it, but I have often wondered how the heck to toss it in the washing machine, as I do with all my other creations. Daisy's blankie goes in once a week, Mia's sometimes twice a week, and the shared afghan on the couch chaise is changed with the seasons. I mix them with smaller items so the tub won't go wonky, which works well.

Anyhoo, I made one granny square afghan in colorful mixed squares bordered in black, then another granny square afghan bordered in white, and then a knit concoction also bordered in white, and now am half-way through a crocheted striped blanket alternating white, yellow and blue bands with some fuzzy yarn thrown in for texture. The final afghan is going to be for the only son, khaki background with 3 squares traveling up the body: one red, one white, and one blue for his tenure at the CA Maritime Academy.

I may call it quits when I finish this disability diversion and find somewhere to donate what's left in the boxes. While I've enjoyed keeping busy, and I like to create original designs for the person I have in mind for the finished project, I'm tired of being on the couch. My knees and my back are not going to get better because I did not receive either adequate or appropriate care at the time I needed it. I cannot change the past, but I am going to have to live with the after-effects of it, so that's what I'm going to do. And I'm not going to do it on the couch!

I'm not going to continue to create projects to take my mind off how pissed off I am at being treated badly by the medical profession. It's time for all of this to get behind me, and the best way for that to happen is for ME to move on and not take the boxes of yarn with me!!