20 April 2007
Now, the car and me.
Also, please note the new link to a feed, over there on your right. How convenient!
New stuff up at Linkateria for your weekend internetting pleasure.
19 April 2007
No, seriously
Not having a TV is the most excellent thing.
When I moved here 18 months ago, I did not bring a TV. I decided that I was too cheap to pay for cable and that I spent enough time on the internet that I didn't need another addiction...so I went cold turkey.
It has been a breeze, really. Don't miss it. I rented the Office and the Sopranos on DVD and haven't even had a Real World/Road Rules craving even once, despite my love for All Things Reality.
The times I appreciate it most are times like this week, when the real bad news hits. News about kids dying and parents left bereft and madmen and guns and "Why, God, why?"
It is so much easier to take in print and on the radio. I still get all the details, but it isn't so raw and in my face. And I didn't have to see those tapes the madman made and NBC aired. The madman knew they would, too, because he understood the news, at least.
I stop at my parents' house twice a day and it is playing in an endless loop, the madness.
The newscasters say "Tonight, more questions about why he did it and more on the continuing investigation."
I yell at the TV "He was MENTALLY ILL and now everyone is DEAD. End of story."
But I know they won't stop until every emotion is wrung from every pore. I worked in news. I was one of those idiots asking idiotic questions that everyone wants to hear but no one admits they want to hear.
If you want to be happy, if you want your family to be happier and saner, toss your TV. Or at least cancel the cable. I'm not joking. It sounds impossible, but it is easy and healthy and fun. And a side benefit is that you'll never have tape of a madman playing in your living room unless you decide that is what YOU want.
When I moved here 18 months ago, I did not bring a TV. I decided that I was too cheap to pay for cable and that I spent enough time on the internet that I didn't need another addiction...so I went cold turkey.
It has been a breeze, really. Don't miss it. I rented the Office and the Sopranos on DVD and haven't even had a Real World/Road Rules craving even once, despite my love for All Things Reality.
The times I appreciate it most are times like this week, when the real bad news hits. News about kids dying and parents left bereft and madmen and guns and "Why, God, why?"
It is so much easier to take in print and on the radio. I still get all the details, but it isn't so raw and in my face. And I didn't have to see those tapes the madman made and NBC aired. The madman knew they would, too, because he understood the news, at least.
I stop at my parents' house twice a day and it is playing in an endless loop, the madness.
The newscasters say "Tonight, more questions about why he did it and more on the continuing investigation."
I yell at the TV "He was MENTALLY ILL and now everyone is DEAD. End of story."
But I know they won't stop until every emotion is wrung from every pore. I worked in news. I was one of those idiots asking idiotic questions that everyone wants to hear but no one admits they want to hear.
If you want to be happy, if you want your family to be happier and saner, toss your TV. Or at least cancel the cable. I'm not joking. It sounds impossible, but it is easy and healthy and fun. And a side benefit is that you'll never have tape of a madman playing in your living room unless you decide that is what YOU want.
16 April 2007
The way I think
One of my favorite bloggers, Fluid Pudding, admits to a bit of a crush on Zach Braff who apparently professes to being a bit of a blogger himself. Who knew?
I can see her point, almost. I mean, he's cute, but he's no Adrien Brody, Craig Ferguson, or even Andy Hampsten (ok that last one was from 20 years ago, but I bet he still looks good in bike shorts).
Anyway, this Sunday's LA Times magazine had a fashion feature on Zach baby.
Because I am so utterly cool and thoughtful, I emailed Angela to ask her if she wanted me to mail the article to her. Sure, she replied.
I am sure she was wondering what kind of weirdo I am to remember that she likes ZB when I can't remember to take laundry out of the washer for 4 days or to pee before I take the dog for a long walk.
The only problem was that, my memory being like it is, I promptly forgot, between emailing her the offer and getting her email back, that I needed to save the magazine in case she did want it. I couldn't find it anywhere.
"I bet I recycled it when I was cleaning house," I said. I get the urge to clean house so rarely that when I do it, I am likely to throw the baby out with the bathwater.
I took my flashlight out to the recycling bin and pawed through all the recycled Sunday papers, about 5000 wrinkly pages worth. Nope.
"What an iiiiii-d-iiiiot," I muttered.
Maybe I filed it, I thought. In the 8 inch high pile with all the other "to be filed" stuff. I dug around in that for a while. Nada.
I am not one to give up easily. I hit the recycling bin one more time. Flashlight. Tiptoes. Leaning way over in that sucker. Dark. Yogurt cups, empty cans, junk mail. No. No. No.
Then I decided to just stagger around the house and lift up random piles of junk.
Voila. Behind the closet door, right where it belonged.
My life. Welcome to it.
I can see her point, almost. I mean, he's cute, but he's no Adrien Brody, Craig Ferguson, or even Andy Hampsten (ok that last one was from 20 years ago, but I bet he still looks good in bike shorts).
Anyway, this Sunday's LA Times magazine had a fashion feature on Zach baby.
Because I am so utterly cool and thoughtful, I emailed Angela to ask her if she wanted me to mail the article to her. Sure, she replied.
I am sure she was wondering what kind of weirdo I am to remember that she likes ZB when I can't remember to take laundry out of the washer for 4 days or to pee before I take the dog for a long walk.
The only problem was that, my memory being like it is, I promptly forgot, between emailing her the offer and getting her email back, that I needed to save the magazine in case she did want it. I couldn't find it anywhere.
"I bet I recycled it when I was cleaning house," I said. I get the urge to clean house so rarely that when I do it, I am likely to throw the baby out with the bathwater.
I took my flashlight out to the recycling bin and pawed through all the recycled Sunday papers, about 5000 wrinkly pages worth. Nope.
"What an iiiiii-d-iiiiot," I muttered.
Maybe I filed it, I thought. In the 8 inch high pile with all the other "to be filed" stuff. I dug around in that for a while. Nada.
I am not one to give up easily. I hit the recycling bin one more time. Flashlight. Tiptoes. Leaning way over in that sucker. Dark. Yogurt cups, empty cans, junk mail. No. No. No.
Then I decided to just stagger around the house and lift up random piles of junk.
Voila. Behind the closet door, right where it belonged.
My life. Welcome to it.
15 April 2007
What, me, a church lady?
Looking back at my last few posts, I realize I talk about church a lot. I hope that doesn't freak you out. It would freak ME out, if I were a reader.
I would be thinking, hey, Suebob seems pretty nice, what is SHE doing going to church?
I grew up prejudiced against church people. Yes, I grew up in an aggressively agnostic family.
People who went to church were looked upon as being somewhat defective, as if they were just simpletons or dupes or people who couldn't keep it together on their own, so they adopted God as a fall-back to cover up their own failings.
I know it may seem weird to those of you who grew up in religious families and who were taught that the "unchurched" were to be scorned and pitied.
But believe me, we weren't going to be scorned and pitied without doing some scorning back. We don't go down easy in my family.
I'm not joking. When I was about 20, I began dating a Catholic young man. I went over to his house, saw the crucifix on the wall, and almost fled. I thought "But he seemed so nice!" Obviously I had been mistaken. He wasn't nice, he was religious.
It took me a while to realize one could be both, because, until that point, I hadn't seen much evidence of that.
The first church I fell into was the one I still belong to. They hooked me in with their new age bookstore and kept me with the singing.
I don't think I would have stayed - strike that, I know I wouldn't have stayed - if they weren't liberal, gay-friendly, and not so much on the Bible.
Over the years, I have drifted in and out of my church. Some years more, some years less. But in my sect, there's no guilt about that. Or about anything else. If you show up, they love you. If you don't, they love you from afar.
Why did I get so involved this time and become a full-fledged Church Lady, someone who teaches Sunday school, brings snacks, and is secretary of the Board?
Is it because of an overweening need for the Lord in my life? No.
Is it because I am holier than others? No.
I had 2 good reasons for becoming a Church Lady.
1) I needed more people on my team. Joining my church expanded my family in a way. I feel like the people there are really pulling for me and I am doing the same for them. I feel like we are part of a web of caring and have a mutual, unspoken agreement to be there for each other.
2) I wanted to be of more service. Church is an instant outlet for that because they always need help. And helping gives me a happy feeling.
I hope you don't think I am a freak because I am a Church Lady. I can see where that judgement would come from, given that many religious people act like complete and total asshats a lot of the time.
But so do many other people, right?
All I can do to reassure you or the other people that question my involvement is to promise that I'm not judging you and won't try to persuade you to do anything you don't want to do.
I don't care if you're my religion or another religion or any religion at all. I think we are all ok in the sight of God (providing there is a God).
But if you ever want to show up on Sunday morning, I promise to save a cookie for you if it is my snack day.
I would be thinking, hey, Suebob seems pretty nice, what is SHE doing going to church?
I grew up prejudiced against church people. Yes, I grew up in an aggressively agnostic family.
People who went to church were looked upon as being somewhat defective, as if they were just simpletons or dupes or people who couldn't keep it together on their own, so they adopted God as a fall-back to cover up their own failings.
I know it may seem weird to those of you who grew up in religious families and who were taught that the "unchurched" were to be scorned and pitied.
But believe me, we weren't going to be scorned and pitied without doing some scorning back. We don't go down easy in my family.
I'm not joking. When I was about 20, I began dating a Catholic young man. I went over to his house, saw the crucifix on the wall, and almost fled. I thought "But he seemed so nice!" Obviously I had been mistaken. He wasn't nice, he was religious.
It took me a while to realize one could be both, because, until that point, I hadn't seen much evidence of that.
The first church I fell into was the one I still belong to. They hooked me in with their new age bookstore and kept me with the singing.
I don't think I would have stayed - strike that, I know I wouldn't have stayed - if they weren't liberal, gay-friendly, and not so much on the Bible.
Over the years, I have drifted in and out of my church. Some years more, some years less. But in my sect, there's no guilt about that. Or about anything else. If you show up, they love you. If you don't, they love you from afar.
Why did I get so involved this time and become a full-fledged Church Lady, someone who teaches Sunday school, brings snacks, and is secretary of the Board?
Is it because of an overweening need for the Lord in my life? No.
Is it because I am holier than others? No.
I had 2 good reasons for becoming a Church Lady.
1) I needed more people on my team. Joining my church expanded my family in a way. I feel like the people there are really pulling for me and I am doing the same for them. I feel like we are part of a web of caring and have a mutual, unspoken agreement to be there for each other.
2) I wanted to be of more service. Church is an instant outlet for that because they always need help. And helping gives me a happy feeling.
I hope you don't think I am a freak because I am a Church Lady. I can see where that judgement would come from, given that many religious people act like complete and total asshats a lot of the time.
But so do many other people, right?
All I can do to reassure you or the other people that question my involvement is to promise that I'm not judging you and won't try to persuade you to do anything you don't want to do.
I don't care if you're my religion or another religion or any religion at all. I think we are all ok in the sight of God (providing there is a God).
But if you ever want to show up on Sunday morning, I promise to save a cookie for you if it is my snack day.
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