11.21.9

Today I got to thinking that I just may be a bit more stubborn than I previously thought. Only on principle though.

Thanksgiving's coming up. I can't look at a pre-cooked turkey with out getting really sad. Once it's golden brown and crispy with bacon on it's breast though, all bets are off.

Sometimes I imagine how much better the world would be if everyone walked around with a solid 3 beer buzz.

Basha's is going out of business because it sucks. The prices are too high, and the expiration dates are almost always tomorrow.

Working for half of my Saturday really makes me appreciate the rest of my weekend.

Finding new music is awesome.

Making new music is awesomer.

I'm finally getting over the fact that my kids will consider the Jim Carrey version of "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" the "real" one. I'm almost even ready to let them see it.

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Kindergarten

Today marks the end to the second week of Kindergarten for Keira. Here is a short examination of some of the differences between her kindergarten experience and my own.

On the eve of the first day my mom cried in disbelief at how big I'd gotten so quickly. I neither cried the same, nor any, tears for Keira.

Keira wore an adorable brightly colored sparkley shirt with jean shorts and sparkley shoes. I wore a grey dress that had a few pink flowers on it.

My first day of Kindergarten was the first day I set foot in a classroom. Keira had completed 2 years of education before her first day of Kindergarten.

On my first day I was ahead of the game because I knew my letters. Keira has been reading since she was 3 and a half.

My kindergarten teacher played the piano in the classroom. Keira's does not.

I peed my pants in kindergarten. Time will tell on this one for Keira.

In my kindergarten class everyone was a white kid. In her class, Keira is a minority.

We both smiled for our first day pictures. Keira's was one of confident accomplishment, mine was one of enthusiastic inexperience.

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So Much for Progress

The Harvard professor who got harassed by the cops when they responded to a 911 call about a possible break in shouldn't be pissed at the cops. He should be pissed at his neighbor who didn't recognize him and called the cops. The cops were just responding. Maybe they were jerky to him when they got there (which I do not condone), but they wouldn't be there if someone else didn't call in thinking he was up to no good. And it's not like the neighbor called the cops because he was sitting on his porch relaxing and reading a book. He was trying to wedge open a door. Which looks a hell of a lot like breaking in to a spying neighbor who lacks the balls to hollar across the street, "Hey Henry...is that you?"

I'm gonna go on a limb and say it doesn't really matter though because if the cops didn't respond to the call and someone did in fact break in to the professors home, he would probably say that cops are racist because they wouldn't respond to a call in a black neighborhood.

The further we come, the longer we have to go.

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Why I Love My Husband

A few months back my husband was able to figure out how to fix a $600 wall mountable TV for about 39 cents. He hung the TV proudly, and rightfully so, in the den/computer room. Ever since then he's been talking about adding a DVD player to the setup. I have, on multiple occasions reminded him that we don't need a DVD player in the den. As proof, I asked him to recall a time that he wanted to watch a DVD, and was not able to do so on the main living room TV. Of course he couldn't name a single time.

When he came home from work today, he began adding the DVD player to the den TV. He was walking in and out of the garage, drilling holes in the wall, and the whole 9 yards. As he crawled under the desk I was trying to work at for the third time, here's how our conversation went:

ME: (Seeing the DVD player and knowing full well what he was doing) What the hell are you doing under there anyway?

HIM: (Pointing to the wires hanging from the TV to the DVD player that sits below) That is ugly, I'm running the wires through the wall from here to there so you can't seem them. Whaddaya think of that?

ME: I think it's riddiculous and uneccesary.

HIM: (In an honest and playful tone) Yes. But it's not ugly.

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The Eyes of A Cynic

For the past several years, every time I've left the Sam's Club I've wondered if the little lady checking the receipts as you leave has ever actually busted anyone for stealing something. A few bulk shopping trips ago, thinking I'd get a good story, I asked in a playful tone, "So, have you ever really busted anyone for trying to steal something?" She looked at me seriously with a stern face and said, "No, just once in a while we'll find something that a checker forgot to ring up." As I headed to my car I tried to remember the point in my life at which an honest mistake became an impossibility.

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Damn you msn.com!

Here I am having, a decent time on a Friday night. Listening to music, making a birthday cake. I jump on line, check my email, log out and then....

The story in the middle of the page reads: "A Final Look Up for a Little Girl: Pixar fulfills dying wish for 10 year old."

Decent time over.

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Pictures

I've recently started taking pictures again. I'm not sure why I ever stopped. It's not as though one day I said, "Screw you pictures I quit you." I think it's quite simply, taking pictures requires a certain level of commitment that often eludes me. All of the "Low Battery" and "Memory Card Full" jibber jabber is super demotivating. Consider:

MOCK SCENARIO 1: What? Something cute is happening? Oh hold on, let me get my camera. Ah shit where did I put it? "Bren, where's the camera? On fridge...okay got it." Hold on kids! Keep doing that cute thing you're doing! I'm almost there! Oh man hold on, the batteries are dead. Let me change them quick. Keep holding that pose. Triple A, Triple A, 9 Volt, C...."Damnit! Bren do we have any more double A batteries?"

MOCK SCENARIO 2: What? Something cute is happening? Oh hold on, let me get my camera. Ah shit where did I put it? "Bren, where's the camera? On fridge...okay got it." Hold on kids! Keep doing that cute thing you're doing! I'm almost there! Sweet! Full battery! "Okay, say cheese" "Sonofabitch! What do you mean Memory Card Full?!" Ahh, let me see (reviews pics in play mode). Should I delete the one of the girls holding hands on the swing, or the blue sky with a cumulonimbus formation?

Despite the inevitability of the above scenarios, I've pushed forth in the face of adversity and I have to tell you, I'm happier. Over the past 3 weeks I've taken more pictures than I have in the past 2 years and it's fantastic. Our 10 day, 2 state family vacation was better than I had imagined and I've got over 150 pretty damn decent pics to look back on. Yippee, hooray, good for you one might say, but what is the point? Precisely this: Life is better when you take pictures of it. People can experience wonderful things, almost anything they want to, backpacking through Europe, watching the sun set from a mountain top, witnessing the birth of a child, whatever. But I ask you, what good is an experience without an embrace? Actively taking pictures requires an engagement that validates the moment. It's the affectionate acceptance of a memory.

And so, I encourage you to hug your memories - take more pictures!

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