Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Monday, December 24, 2007
In a recent interview, after being asked whether Indiana has an illegal immigrant problem, Not My Man Mitch discusssed his compassionate, global, forward-thinking idea to "make certain" that English is the official language of Indiana.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Today's Top Text*
Me: It is colder than balls out here.
T: Let's don't go there...
Me: No worries, I haven't gone there in a VERY long time...
*Potentially noteworthy text messages between me and T.
Me (to my 16 year old daughter, for whom "Santa" has brought presents well into her teens): Did Santa come to our house last year? I can't remember.
T: I don't think he did.
T (after a pause): Is he coming this year?
Me: Well, if he didn't come last year I don't know why he would come this year...
T: Maybe he just forgot last year.
Friday, December 21, 2007
I'm sending waves of strength and support to my dear friend Manda today. You should, too. She deserves and can use the positive energy, and it's likely to result in good karma for you.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
More Primary Questions
Speaking of questions for the candidates, last night someone asked Hillary what decorating plans she has for the White House should she get elected President. And she simply answered the question, diplomatically complimenting some things Mrs. Bush has done, and referring to some things she changed herself when she was there with Slick Willy.
Um, hello? Why are they asking her that and why is she answering? If she's our President will people expect her to be both the President and fill the role of the President's wife? Why am I capitalizing President? Why don't they ask Bill what decorating changes he plans to make (other than to blue dresses)? Are they asking the male presidential candidates the same question?
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
We watch the CBS Evening News on weeknights that we are home. (A habit I picked up from my folks when I was little). I still haven't decided if I'm a fan of Katie Couric as my evening news anchor, but we are (well, I am) on a first name basis after all these evenings together.
They're running a series of segments (called Primary Questions, I think, with a subtitle that is completely unnecessary and annoying) in which they've asked each of the gazillion presidential candidates a bunch of the same questions. They show one question per broadcast, followed by the videotaped answer of every candidate, one after the other. It's a nice format, actually, allowing you to instantly compare the responses of all the candidates on a variety of topics.
The other night they asked when was the last time the candidates lost their temper and why. Some had playful answers, some more serious, most seemed genuine. Barack, however, said he almost never gets mad and when pressed, he reported recently getting mad at President Bush over some political issue or another. Now, if I was more versed in politics perhaps I'd be mad at Bush, too, or even be able to repeat whatever the issue was - I have zero recollection of it. And I love the guy's passion in general, so perhaps it was an honest response. But all I could think was, "really, Barack? That's all you've got?" Katie asked for a more pedestrian example, I believe, but I don't think he gave one; he'd already lost me.
Don't get me wrong, most of you know I'm a fan, but this got me wondering. If he really almost never gets upset, is this healthy, or is he lacking necessary coping mechanisms for dealing with the incredible stresses of being our President? I suppose I'm mostly just suspicious; I think he also said his children were perfect, so he has no reason to get mad at them. Handsome and intelligent guy, lovely and intelligent wife, perfect children, never a cross word ... it all seems a little hard to believe. If true, good for him. But I have to admit my b.s.-o-meter kicked in.
All Eyes on You
Despite the bad weather, we ventured out late in the day on Saturday for eye exams. Much to T's disappointment, she does not need eyeglasses. She did ask for a pair of rockin' frames for Christmas, though. A word of warning: if you ask your teenage daughter to help you pick out some new frames, you will come home with these:
Bad picture, they are better seen here. Yes, I have red glasses. The things we do for love.
Monday, December 17, 2007
Practice tip: Exhibit stickers are no joke. Put one on the corner of your desk "for a minute" and it will not come off in one whole piece - and the furniture gods will frown upon you.
Neighborhood associations: God bless mine, and the man with the snowplow who plowed our driveway today and will "invoice" me later.
Office politics: They suck.
Friday, December 14, 2007
If You Are So Inclined...
It's "Reveal Your Blog Crush Day."
Have a ball.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
I've got an issue about which I would like to rant. It's been bugging me for some time, but I haven't found the time or the proper inspiration to do justice to the extent of my outrage, so I've abstained. I've now given up hopes of finding the time and wherewithal to appropriately address the topic and its potential broader implications, so I'm just gonna give you the quick and dirty.
I need new eyeglasses because my lenses are all scratched. I've been putting this off for many months, waiting for the time and money to get them. The year is almost over and I recently realized I haven't spent any of the money I allocated to my "flexible spending account" for medical expenses in 2007. I can use that money to get glasses, so one day several weeks ago when T and I were at the mall, I hustled us into LensCrafters, where I was determined to pick out a new pair of specs.
The woman who offered to help us immediately asked if I had my prescription with me. No, I informed her, but LensCrafters should have my prescription in their records. Well, she smarmed, perhaps they did, but if it was over 2 years old they would require a new prescription. Guess what? It was over 2 years old. I ranted. I raved. And she lectured me that some organization or another is trying to pass a law saying that optome... opthamol... eye doctors can't fill prescriptions more than one year old.
Ridiculous. Inconceivable. My prescription has not changed in well over a dozen years and I am tired of paying for an eye exam when all I need is new glasses. But, but, but, eye exams assess more than just corrective prescription needs, she protested. She had the gall to claim the AOA or whoever is simply worried about my eye health.
Bullshit. Anyone see a little conflict of interest in eye doctors, who pocket profit when they perform eye exams, lobbying for corrective lens prescriptions to expire after just one year? I was thrown for a loop earlier this year when I could not find a dentist to just clean T's teeth (we were both long overdue for a cleaning; I still am) without forcing her to submit to a "full workup." I took it in stride, after joining a new dentist, and shelled out the big bucks.
But this is too much. Prescriptions for drugs that expire? Yes. But the government (federal? state?) telling me I should have an eye exam every year in order to purchase glasses??? Too damn much. Seriously, is eyeglass prescription abuse a problem that needed to be addressed? Is it rampant? Ruining lives? Reaching epic proportions? Some decisions should be left up to the individual. If I want to cavalierly purchase glasses without an eye exam, that should be my prerogative - I know that's really living on the edge, but let an old lady live a little.
Sigh. I give. I've promised T we'll get eye exams before the year is out, perhaps this weekend if the weather isn't prohibitive. I've got to spend that dough in the flexible spending account, anyway. Eye doctors, 1; Me, 0.
So much for quick and dirty.
Saturday, December 08, 2007
I definitively decided today that I need a vacation. I need sun and sand. In January. About 10 minutes and several internet searches later, I realized I am not going to get it. Tickets alone to all warm and sunny spots are over $400 each. Sigh.
Winter hasn't even officially begun and I'm already trying to escape and facing the reality that there is no escape to be had.
Work It Out
T and I were trying hard to be productive last weekend. We both find it difficult to concentrate and get our work done while we're at home. We hit the library's quiet room for a while, where I studied for the bar and find it relatively easy to focus. Unfortunately, it closes early on the weekend - 5pm.
We moved from there to the Au Bon Pain near the IUPUI campus. The quick meal was good, but we didn't stay long. We both needed internet connections for the things we were working on - the signal was weak and I couldn't log on. They didn't have outlets handy, anyway, so that wasn't a good choice.
Then, as a last resort, I drove us to a relatively new Starbucks just north of downtown. It's never a first choice for me because I don't drink coffee or tea, and Starbucks are typically crowded. This location was a good choice, though, because it's spacious and wasn't at all crowded. I bought a peppermint hot chocolate and we settled in next to the warm fire to get a little more work done before calling it a night. And that's when I discovered that the wireless at Starbucks stores isn't free. SO disappointing. I guess I'd been picking up other free signals on previous occasions at other Starbucks stores. As much as they charge for coffee, tea, and other crap, the least they could do is supply free wireless!
We'll be back at it tomorrow, looking for the perfect spot to work and study together. Wish us better luck than we had last weekend.
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
T has been driving herself to school and back for a few months. Based on the weather reports, I gave her plenty of advance notice that I would likely have to take her to school this morning - our first snow was predicted, and she's never driven in the snow. She grumbled and whined and complained but was generally stuck with my decision.
This morning, we'd had our first snowfall of the season and there were approximately 3 inches of snow and slush on the roads. We left the house just before 7am, T at the wheel of our "new car," me supervising from the passenger seat. She turned the car around nicely in the driveway, and executed a lovely left turn from our street onto the next street on our route.
The next left turn resulted in a 180 degree turnabout, and we were suddenly facing the direction from which we had just come. We calmly exited the middle of the street and its oncoming cars. T said she was okay, but admitted that she now realized that all my concern and caution was perhaps warranted.
I emailed a partner from my blackjack at 7:11am:
K: I'll see you when I get in...T's first time driving in the snow, we've already done a 180. She needs to learn, though.
Partner: Please don't die.
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
The Effects of Too Much CSI
When walking back to the office in the dark after a local bar association holiday function, you decide not to don gloves despite that it is 31 degrees outside and windy...because if you get attacked, you want there to be trace evidence under you fingernails...and you think that if the criminals also watch CSI, they'll favor glove-wearing victims over those with frost-bitten but evidence-catching bare fingers.
Saturday, December 01, 2007
Well I'm Not Paralyzed But I Seem To Be Struck By You
I like that song, but, as with most "popular" songs, they play it way too much on the radio. Don't even tell me you gave up on the radio long ago because it's so uncool, commercial, etc... I know. I don't care. I like to be "connected" when I'm in the car. That is, if our leader is assassinated or some other horrible tragedy occurs, no one is going to break and tell me in if I'm listening to a CD or an iPod. I want to know before I get to my destination. That's just how I am.
Also, I'm oddly relieved that the name of the group who sings the title lyric is "Finger Eleven" and not "Finger Lovin'," as I'd previously thought.
Unclear on the Concept
I am sitting in the Quiet Room of a local library branch. The cell phone of another library "guest" just rang - loud enough for all of us to hear. A forgivable, though avoidable, transgression. Less forgivable was her reaction: she answered the phone and held a conversation. At the library. In the Quiet Room.
Approaching Middle Age
Dabbling in Blogdom
Tear Down The Walls
Today's Song Lyric
All you do is call me, I'll be anything you need
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Taking Down Words
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