Merry Christmas from a Hospital Bed

Sorry, I have been distracted this week.

Have you ever visited a relative in a hospital around the holidays? To see a niece or nephew, lying in a sterile hospital bed, looking pitiful, is a bad feeling. At Christmas time, being in a hospital is double-bad, because there are charities who come into hospitals at Christmastime and sing to the children. The music is beautiful, but it reminds you that this child is laying in a hospital bed, not participating in Christmas-type activities.

This child, anyone's child, doesn't feel well. Not a life-threatening illness, but an illness bad enough for a hospitalization and a few nights sleeping in a foreign bed.

I know, some will say that Christmas should be like other times of the year. You should love your neighbor all through the year. Yeah, I get that. But you know, at different times of the year, you can be more passionate about redemption (Easter), more passionate about re-birth (Christmas), and more about giving thanks (harvest celebrations, Thanksgiving).

So in a week of re-births, in anticipation for Christmas, I don't feel like writing. Actually, I am going to take off from work a bit early and sneak into a hospital room, and read my nephew a story. Or two. Or twelve.

Merry Christmas!

Holiday Parties

I went to my first holiday party on Friday.

When I look at old Christmas movies, holiday parties seemed catered, the boss seems to have a secretary on his lap, and everyone is drinking some type of spirits. That's not really how my holiday parties are – oh, any my parties are in vibrant colors, not black-white-and-grays.

Oh, and I am not bashing black-white-and-grays. They are classic colors, and these colors can move one to tears (It’s A Wonderful Life), one to laughter (The Bishop's Wife), and one to confusion (The Horn Blows at Midnight). Okay, I have never seen The Horn Blows at Midnight, but since it is about big band trumpeter who falls asleep and dreams he is an archangel, sent to destroy earth, I figure it would confuse the heck out of me.

I wanted to say a few things about holiday parties.

Putluck
Most of the holiday parties I am involved in are potluck, which is German for "bring too much damn food." If you think about it, you should just bring as much as food as you can eat, because if everybody brings what they can eat, then there would be no wasted food. Okay, bad suggestion because some people bring unpopular foods. Those people should volunteer to pick up something at a bakery.

Most of the food at a potluck is (1) high fat, (2) contains cheese, and (3) contains mayonnaise. What bothers me is that, at least at my parties, there are no fresh veggies, no other healthy alternatives – not just to snack on, but to cut the fat on the other goodies.

Oh, I also want to just suggest that if something is loaded with calories, it needs to taste wonderful. That means, please leave the partially hydrogenated cookies at home, or at least mark them so I can avoid them. If I am going to have to spend an extra two hours on a Stairmaster®, I want it to be for some wholesome, mouth-watering fat.

Small Talk
You know, I am not really interested in my company's potluck. I mean, I see these people all year long, and I don't want to think of what to say, to engage in small talk.

I sort of enjoy small talk at other people's work. By other people, I mean my husband, but it would be cool to just crash a party. Can you imagine crashing a party with the following?

Leesa: Holy crap, where is my husband. He is gone.

Woman: Who would that be?

Leesa: You know him. He is the only man who is not here.

Woman: Oh, you mean Fred.

Leesa: (thinking to self, poor Fred, you missed the party) Has he screwed you yet? That SOB.

Woman: Fred is sixty-something years old. You can't be forty.

Leesa: And yet we are married.

Woman: Oh, I had no idea.

Leesa: I ask again, has he nailed you yet?

Woman: Pardon?

Leesa: Has he fucked you?

Woman: I think not. I am his boss.

Leesa: That has never stopped him before.

Then I walk off.

You see, I can't make a scene at work. It is frowned on.

Short Leesa Christmas Letter

Wednesday, I wrote about Christmas (or holiday) letters. The blog entry was a bit snide, but I think it is worth a read if you have the time.

Today I would like to post a letter that I would like to receive.

Dear Family,

It is another year. I am sending this out a little early to tell you that you need to send Jed's presents to the state penetention. They picked him up again. He is completely innocent; he is just a little bit too trusting. He was holding a package for a friend, and it turned out to be marijuana. He told them it was not his, but you know, they did a drug test and he turned out positive. To date, I no longer make my famous poppy seed muffins. It was Jed's undoing and all.

With Jed being taken care of on the government's dime, I have had a lot more time to pursue some of my interests.

My primary interest is in wine-tasting. I have actually been interested in box wines for some time, and although I have my personal favorites (Black Box Wine), I have tried so many of them. The top shelf of my 'fridge is only wine now.

Little Jimmy, poor Jimmy, I have had to displace his milk. At first, he missed his milk. But you know, wine is just old grape juice, right? Jimmy has been doing a bit poorer in school – with his times tables and reading and stuff, but you know, he has less behavioral issues. So I call that a win.

Without supporting Jed's gambling habit, I have been able to put away a few bucks. It has been actually a bit nice. And you know, putting a few dollars in the purse brings more responsibility. I got Jimmy a WII – for educational reasons. Next year we will see if his grades will improve.

Me, I have had several nice men with which to spend time. And on an unrelated issue, I have been buying lots of pretty underwear.

Oh, and remember the box wines. I have started writing a book on the subject. The working title, is "Wine Appreciation Guide: Box Wines and You."

Hugz,
Leesa

Christmas Letters

It’s that time of year again, and I received my first Christmas letter today.

Yeah, Ho Ho Ho.

I am not a big fan of Christmas letters. Okay, the idea is nice. People who love you enough to send out a card also send information also send a Christmas letter, and if it is a well-written letter, everything is wonderful. But not many letters are well-written. By well-written, I am not talking about grammar, spelling, subject-verb agreement. I speak to content.

The typical letter I get from those who love me is filled with their yearly accomplishments. "Hey, we had a good year – bought me and my wife matching Lexuses." The first thing that pisses me off is that people should not be rich enough to ever need to pluralize the word "Lexus." Class envy aside, I really need to know that it was a really good year financially for someone.

Only slightly less annoyingly, are the letters that tout the kids. I love, kids, I really do. And I think kids do great just learning how to read, write, and deal with irrational numbers. But either the authors of these Christmas letters are exaggerating their accomplishments, or my relatives and friends' children are going to cure Cancer, the Riemann hypothesis, and discover that there was a second gunman behind the grassy knoll. Oh, and I know these kids. Yeah, they consume oxygen like the rest of us and convert it to carbon dioxide. That does not make them a chemistry wiz.

Next are the letters that laud other accomplishments. I am not going to put an award won at work on my resume' and you probably should not include it on your Christmas letter. Well, if you have won a Nobel Prize, don't brag about the prize. Just mention that you took a trip to Stockholm this year, posed for some pictures for a local event, and went next door to the Netherlands to hook up with a bunch of prostitutes (window shopping) and visiting the pot bars. That would be both entertaining, and informative (and we already know you won the Nobel Prize anyway).

Oh, then there are the wonderful Baptists that send their Christmas letters. Sorry, I know lots of good Baptists outside of my family. There is one, in particular, who think that all Catholic priests are pedophiles, and that I cannot go to heaven because I am not following in Christ's path (simply because I am Catholic). Their letters talk about all of their charity work, reminding us to tithe to a local Baptist church. Funny thing is that the father is racist, and I cannot reconcile racism with Christianity. The Baptist Letter, as it is known in my household, is special each year. We circle the misspellings and comma faults. Anything over twelve and we celebrate. We have gone out because of the letter three years running.

Next is the letter that explains how to have a more "Christ-ful" Christmas. It is along the same lines as the previous letter, though these two families don't automatically condemn one to hell because of their particular brand of Christianity they practice. How Christian of them. I have tried quantifying the contents of these letters, seeing if they are less boastful, more meek, but I just can't figure out how to do it.

Perhaps one of their brilliant children can come up with an expression to do this. It would surely make my Christmas a merrier one.

Uncomfortable Christmas Tidings

Christmas time means different things to different people. Long before I was born, people talked about the commercialization of Christmas. No one has really said anything about the commercialization of Thanksgiving. I mean, people aren't upset about turkey farmers making a few extra bucks in November. Or how cranberry bog farmers make most of their money in one week of the year. But on the fat man's holiday, people are concerned about commercialization.

When I think of Christmas, I often wonder about Mary, the mother of Christ. We don't know exactly how young she was, but she was probably a teenager. Joseph was a great deal older than she was, and here she is scared, pregnant and wondering, perhaps, if Joseph will stick around. I mean, really, how many guys would stand by their woman if they said they did not have sex and were pregnant? So when I think of Christmas, I often think about Mary. And Linus talking about Christmas.

Well, several years ago, I was talking to a friend between Thanksgiving and Christmas, and she recalled a very difficult time in her life.

You see, she was pregnant, a few weeks from her delivery date, and "complications arose." She went to see her doctor when the baby stopped moving. Well, the baby died – which she tells everyone, was a good thing because the baby would have had multiple physical problems after delivery. Still, understandably, she was crushed.

But that was not the worse part of the story. No, my dear readers, she still had to deliver the stillborn. So over the next few days, in the shopping malls, at the grocery store, wherever she went, people would comment on her baby and ask excitingly, "How many days?" or "Boy or girl?" or some other question about the baby. These were innocent strangers, happy to see an expectant mother, and their questions reminded my friend about her loss.

She stayed inside four days before the procedure, and the baby was buried by himself. Yes, some family-members questioned her. "After all, it was not really a baby." "She did not love it like one loves a baby." To this day, she will tell you she had three children, two a married with kids of their own, and her little boy Joshua is with the Lord. She chose Joshua because she had to be reminded that God is her salvation. She anticipated that she would have doubts, already cursing God after hearing the original news.

I was chatting with a woman in the UK named jeepster, who had a similar experience. In her own words, much more powerful than mine, follow:

I knew my baby had died long before I did anything about it. I went to see the nurse and told her that I hadn't felt the baby move and she listened for a heart beat, couldn't find one but told me not to worry!!! WTF!!!

I went home and kept it together in front of my husband and at work and all that was going through my mind was: If I tell someone, they will take my baby away from me. I was 7 months pregnant. Eventually, and It must have been 3/4 weeks later I just couldn't do it emotionally anymore. When she was born, she was all curled up in a ball. Like a baby bird that had fallen from the nest.

I had 4 miscarriages after Tegan and now I have two kids but I say I have three. She was very real, she had a beating heart, I held her, I had a funeral she is still with me.

Christmas is a joyous time, but there is also, for many, reminders of tragic events. And it can be a lonely time as well. I know so many people who have lost relatives around Christmas.

So when you are elbowing the pushy brunette while getting that last toy, elbow with care. She may be packing heat. No, no, that's not what I wanted to write. Be compassionate, think of others, and watch sappy Christmas movies.

Being True to . . . One's Restaurant

A few weeks ago, I was in a nearby city, and we were looking for a restaurant. Have you ever traveled to a city, where you were looking for a restaurant and you had no clue where to go?

Well, we were looking for a restaurant, and happened into an Italian restaurant. Well, the restaurant said so-and-so's Italian Restaurant. I had a picture of a guy throwing up a pizza to clue in those who could not read the words. There were red and white checkered curtains in the windows, matching table-cloths on the tables. It seemed like an Italian Restaurant.

We sat down, hubbie and I, expecting Italian food, and then opened the menus.

Here are some of the items on the menu:

Seafood – and not just calamari (Italian), but fried flounder, shrimp and other things;

Fried chicken – the least Italian food I can think of;

Quesadilla, and other Mexican dishes – er, not really Italian;

Gyros – yeah, Gyros, Souvlaki and the like;

Hot Subs and something called Hoagies (I think hoagies are a man's sub sandwich);

Wraps – I really don't know where wraps came from, but I don't think they are Italian.

I had a bruschetta appetizer, eggplant parmesan, a small (Greek, I think) salad, and some (American) red wine.

The point of this is not to tell you exactly what I ate that evening; that's just and added bonus. This Italian restaurant is not doing what it is supposed to be doing. I don't want to be able to get won tons at an Italian restaurant – a restaurant needs to be true to itself. A good restaurant, at least.

People are the same way. People need to be true to themselves. Let's say, for instance, I am an extravert, that I enjoy being around people. That I really like going out in public, chatting to people, doing my little social butterfly pollination by flitting from table to table.

I can't just not want to go out and have fun. Now, reading a good book is wonderful, especially if I am surrounded by a warm bath with bubbles. But for an extravert, people get charged with groups.

In high school, part of the ritual was to fit in. And in doing so, we were doing things that were not true to ourselves. We pretended to like movies we don't like, like people who were popular, like music that others like as well. But more than that, we kept secret parts of our lives that weren't so "cool". We kept secret . . . .

I kept secret the fact that I love reading, that I enjoy classical music, that I like corny movies.

Many people remember the good ol' days, when they were in high school. Yeah, I miss them too, but I enjoy so much about being an adult. One of the things I love the most is that I can be me, that I enjoy being me, and I don't really care who finds out that I love to read, that I love reading, that I like corny music.

Ranking Hot Girls . . . and Football Teams

Monday, I talked about decisions. I really enjoy the decision-making process. And not to beat a dead horse, but I want to continue talking about decisions. Oh, and if I was not clear on Monday, I am going to try and post on Monday-Wednesday-Friday. We will see if this schedule is more conducive.

Looks like it will be Ohio State and LSU playing for the national championship in January. The big BCS super computer algorithm thingie pumps out a couple of names and they play for the national championship. But it is not the best way – I mean, the ranking of teams is not the best way.

For such a complex analysis (20 to 30 teams that legitimately compete for the national championship, and most of them don't play but a few of the teams each year), a rank analysis is not the best approach to take, but we do it anyway. A better approach is to use the decision making technique known as paired comparison analysis.

Let me explain about paired comparison analysis, not using football.

Let's say we want to rank hot women. We have four contestants: Shakira, ~Deb, Britney Spears and Drew Barrymore. Our goal here is to rank these ladies from one to four in terms of sexiness. This example simplifies what I am writing about – with only four women, ranking may be easy enough because some people perform paired comparison analysis with small sets of data anyway. But I am just trying to illustrate the point.

One looks at Shakira and ~Deb, first, then asks the question, "which woman is hotter?" Winner gets a point. Let's say the answer is Shakira. After all, Shakira is the only women I know that have lots of men and women lusting after her. I wrote about it a long time ago. Shakira and ~Deb are both sexy and smart, but the edge goes to Shakira. Shakira also beats Drew Barrymore – she has a sexier voice, can dance better and is way smarter. Also, Drew looses points because of her association with Cameron Diaz, a woman who just looks goofy, while dancing or otherwise. I really don't know why men find Ms. Diaz attractive. Well, all beat Britney Spears. Some hypothesize that Al-Qaeda is trying to obtain a pap smear from Britney in their efforts to obtain a new biological weapon. Not saying it is true. Just a rumor at this point.

So the scoring may be as follows:
Shakira – 3 points
~Deb – 2 points
Britney – 0 points
Drew – 1 point

You rearrange to get the ranking: Shakira, ~Deb, Drew, Britney. So that is paired comparisons.

The last time I wrote about football, I went to the ESPN website, and ESPN started asking me questions: Which team is better, A or B. And it kept on asking me. Paired comparisons.

Well, they did this to basketball. Problem is, I knew/know nothing about NCAA basketball. Ohio State lost to an SEC school last year. That's about all I know. Well, okay, the ACC is really good, but since I don't like basketball (even though Georgia Tech is good), I don't follow it.

I know why they don't use paired comparisons in the coach's polls: coach's don't have the time to answer a bunch of questions. Plus, I think there is a lot of manipulations going on.

Me, I don't really care who wins the national championship: Georgia Tech is out of the running. The coach is gone. Boo hoo. Besides, another Big Ten team will loose to some SEC team again. Right? Isn't that's what's going to happen. Notice the three contractions in a row – I did that on purpose.

Perhaps something better would be to take the hottest women in the world, and have them pick a winner. Paired comparisons. I believe that these women are familiar with this type of analysis. After all, I have heard many men say, "Nice pair." I assume the comment has to do with this topic.

Decisions, Decisions

Have you ever heard someone say something like, "I have a decision to make. Do I continue in this marriage and try and work it out, or do I smother him with a pillow in his sleep." This is an example of one type of argument fallacy. I can't remember the name of the type of fallacy, but it is because the question has only two options: (1) work it out, and (2) smother by pillow. Well, we know that there are other options: (1) poison, (2) shot by firearm, and (3) defenestration (to throw him out a window, preferably a high one with alligators at the bottom of the building).

All joking aside, when someone looks at merely two choices, one necessarily limits one's choices. And having limited choices is not always bad. I mean, if I am crossing the road and an 18-wheeler is bearing down on me, I would rather only examine the first option that gets me out of the truck's way. Time is of the essence, and all.

But for many of life's choices, there are more than two options.

I had been thinking about quitting this blog, because I was looking at two choices, (1) continuing to write crap five days per week, and (2) quitting my blog.

You see, I have noticed that writing every day, every work day, is difficult. And, being difficult is not necessarily a bad thing. But it is difficult, and the end product is not so good. I mean, every once in a while, an entry is really good, but on the whole, the words are average. Vanilla.

Someone recently said that their ex called her vanilla, and she was pissed, angry. Vanilla is supposed to be such a bad word, but I enjoy vanilla ice cream. Eating ice cream with fruit does not hide the taste of the fruit or the ice cream. To be described as a person who is themselves but lets others be themselves too seems to be is good flavor. I sort of want to be vanilla.

Oh, back to me.

I was thinking of either quitting my blog or not blogging. Yeah, sort of tired of it, actually. Notice, dear readers that both choices were essentially the same? Well, if the choice was to quit blogging or to continue as is, I don't know what my choice would be. Both choices, to me, are not good choices. Not today.

But there is another option. Several other options. I could continue writing and smother my husband. That would be another choice. An even better choice (hey, I love him most of the time) might be to write three times per week, on Monday, Wednesday and Friday.

Me, I want to find some really good vanilla ice cream.

Bizarre Lying

I called into work this morning, and I lied. Funny thing is that I was sick, but I lied about it.

I said that I was "under the weather", meaning I had a cold, but that was a lie. Let me explain what really happened.

Yesterday, I was working out in the early evening. I normally work out a few days per week, on the ellipticals. I used to call them stair-steppers, but that is so 1990s.

I normally listen to my iPod, but I did not get a chance to charge the battery, so I used the ear buds to listen to what was on the tube. Well, some movie came on, and I started watching it. My elipticals last 30 minutes, but the 1/2-hour workout was not enough time to watch the movie. So I continued to use the machine and watch.

And I continued and continued. Well, during the workout, I had to grab my cell phone and call hubbie, explaining that I was watching a movie. He sort of laughed at me. I mean, it is sort of pitiful, us without cable, me watching some lame movie.

Well, I went home later than I wanted to go home, had eaten something on the way, and went to bed a little earlier than normal.

I woke up the next morning, and I could not move my legs. The alarm went off, and I could not move my legs.

I did not want to call work and say, "I am sorry, I cannot go to work this morning because I cannot move my legs." The translation is normally "I had hot sex all last night and my legs don't work." And that was just not the case. I mean, I was watching a movie, not having sex.

So I lied.

I am told that the only way to feel better is to work my legs. Holy crap, this is a bizarre and topsy-turvy world.

Polls

I have noticed that I am being asked a lot about myself, about my opinion. Sometimes the polls are telephone polls – and I always make time to answer them. The reason is that I have unusual opinions, and I like being outside of the normal range. I don't have cable, I don't drink coffee, I don't watch sports. Oh, and I do not affiliate myself with either the Republican or Democratic parties. So since they interrupt my dinner or book, I am going to be an outlier in their data. Dewey defeats Truman and all.

One think I have noticed, as well, is that a boatload of websites ask you to take polls. Most of the time, I don't take the polls – they are not scientific, and well, they sometimes are poorly written. Something in the pit of my stomach sometimes wonders if they change their cookies to say, "Don't let Leesa read the really interesting content because she did not complete our poll or questionnaire."

One site in particular asks about printers. I have gone to answering correctly to making up bizarre answers. So if Hewlett Packard has a bad quarter, I think they did it because they were trying to capture the Leesa blogger segment. Having completed a dozen or so questionnaires, I think I deserve being my own market segment.

So the next time you are faced with a questionnaire, perhaps you should make a game of it. I have taken different tactics, to answers these questions.

Making Patterns
My first foray into answering questionnaires was to answer all of a particular letter. But that is sort of predictable, boring. Then I would do the A-B-C-D-C-B-A type of patterns. And eventually, I would hum a tune and try to answer as the questions in the order of the tune. The answers would be a bit more random, well, not really random (tunes are not random notes, well most tunes).

Pretending
My actually favorite tactic for answering questionnaires is to pretend I am someone else. Not people I know, but famous people. I have pretended to be Shakira, Ivana Trump, Elizabeth Bayley Seton (sue me, I am Catholic), George Eliot (aka Mary Ann Evans), and Britney Spears (I needed a shot after pretending to be Britney). It has the allure of fantasy, as well as the mental efforts of pre-supposing how they would answer such questions. Oh, and by the way, I believe the George Eliot would vote for Mike Huckabee, though she lived in an age where she could not vote.

Well, the next time you hear of a Gallop Poll saying that were the election held today, Americans would vote for Meatloaf, don't believe it. Just consider who wastes their time answering the polls, and their true intentions.

On ex-boyfriends and beer sluts

I had a dream last night, and although it was not about my college days, it reminded me of a particular experience when I was in college.

When I was in college, I was in loooooove. Not my first love, but a love. Let's call him Robert. He would say his name was Rob, but I always called him Robert. He was handsome, fit, and his family had money. We dated for a while, and we broke it off. Well, he mostly broke it off.

It was my first break-up in college. Now high school break-ups can be traumatic, but in high school, there seemed to be more of a social network to catch one's broken heart. There were girlfriends to talk with, mothers to bake goods to comfort me, and Ben and Jerry's.

In college, the social network is a bit more spotty. Not as many girlfriends, but girlfriends nonetheless. Parents are further from home, meals are not home-cooked – and more importantly, the sit-down dinner does not exist.

So after Robert and I broke up, I eventually got over him. I will admit now that part of the hard part of getting over him was that he was "marriage material." The first man I ever thought was "marriage material."

Well, time past and I dated other men.

Then one day, a friend ushered me into her room one night with news. Her eyes were wide, she was grinning, and she had to tell me something. From looking at her face, it was either that she was engaged or some juicy piece of gossip. It turned out to be gossip.

My ex-Robert, known to all as Rob, had a drunken encounter with someone else in the dorm. No one I knew real well, but she was non-affectionately called a beer slut. She was a nice enough girl, but when she would get a few beers in her, she was a temptress. Okay, that seems to be a lot more romantic than calling her a slut.

Anyway, she and Rob had sex, and apparently Rob was sort of wasted as well. Not surprising. Well, that is Rob. What was surprising to Beer Slut is that Rob passed out. Been there.

Well, Beer Slut – I need to give her a better name, perhaps Veronica – did not like the passing out, and she was a little pissed. Let's just say that Veronica left that night but had deposited a little something on Rob's chest. Not sure Veronica thought this through, because the story had legs and made its way to my ears.

Oh, and not that I am proud of this, but I loved Veronica's exit that evening.

So the moral of the story is that you should not drink or some beer slut may poop on your chest.

Christmas Shows and Movies

As Thanksgiving gives way to Christmas, the networks and I am assuming cable companies are giving us a parade of Christmas specials. Now, don't get me wrong, I like technology, but it sort of takes away from what I remember as Christmas specials.

Let us review.

Before cable¹, the networks would air various Christmas specials throughout the season. They would start the week after Thanksgiving, and they were played exactly one time.

Charlie Brown Christmas special, played exactly once. If you missed the airing, you would not hear Charlie Brown shout in desperation, "Isn't there anyone out there who can tell me what Christmas is all about?" Or Linus call for lights and illuminate Charlie Brown on the true meaning of Christmas.

One of the best, of course, is The Grinch Who Stole Christmas. And not the Jim Carey version. I can still hear Boris Karloff say: "The Grinch hated Christmas - the whole Christmas season. Oh, please don't ask why, no one quite knows the reason. It could be, perhaps, that his shoes were too tight. Or maybe his head wasn't screwed on just right. But I think that the best reason of all may have been that his heart was two sizes too small."

One little known fact is that the actress² that was the voice for Cindy Lou Who also was the voice for Grandmother Fa.

You know, I have lots of DVDs of favorite Christmas specials, and it sort of ruins it, in a way. It makes it less special because I can place the The Bishop's Wife DVD in the player anytime and watch Cary Grant be his suave self as the angel, putting everyone's priorities back in order. On demand movies, TV shows and the like make these productions less special. Especially during the most wonderful time of the year.

It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year
With the kids jingle belling
And everyone telling you "Be of good cheer"
It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year
It's the hap -happiest season of all
With those holiday greetings and gay happy meetings
When friends come to call
It's the hap - happiest season of all ³

---

¹Okay cable was out there but we did not have it. Still don't.
²Her name is June Foray; she was in lots of movies, TV shows and other acting stuff. Her most famous voice role was the Bullwinkle's Rocky the Squirrel.
³It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year, by Eddie Pola and George Wyle.

All Things Football

SEC discussion – not really important
Okay, my Georgia Tech Yellow Jackets lost to Georgia this weekend. Okay, I am bummed. But we will not talk about how Georgia Tech lost the game. Let's talk about the BCS for a moment. After another shake-up with the two top teams, here is how several teams are now ranked in the BCS system:

1. Missouri
2. West Virginia
3. Ohio State
4. Georgia
7. LSU
12. Hawaii
14. Tennessee

Now, I don't know a lot about football, but I can read the top rankings. Here is what is weird: next week LSU (#7 in the BCS) will play Tennessee ($14 in the BCS) for the SEC championship.

Yeah, I know, I know. The SEC is not the ACC. (Slight jab at the SEC.) But next week, someone will be crowned the SEC champion, and there is a chance, if Missouri and West Virginia both loose next week, that Georgia could be playing Ohio State for the national championship. So there is a chance that someone who is third in the SEC could be the national champion.

Now, except that I hate Georgia, that would be fine with me. That will show that the whole BCS national champion business is flawed.

Hawaii's woes
I don't know who is better, but here is something that is really weird. Hawaii is the only NCAA 1A school without a loss, and they are ranked #12 in the BCS. Yeah, Yeah, strength of schedule. But here is the weird part: Ohio State is ranked #3 with one loss, and they only beat – let me look it up – zero teams that were ranked in the top 20 (not sure what the poll is, but it is the one that they use to hype games – AP poll, I think). And the 11-0 Hawaii, with their easy-breezy schedule, played one team in the top 20. So Hawaii had one more victory over a top 20 team and one fewer loss, and they are ranked 9 places below Ohio State.

Thanksgiving Holiday

Travel Day
Today is the busiest travel day of the year. I heard this every year I traveled back home when I was in college. And as a busy day, it was a deadly day. Now I hear that the President is making the holiday travel better. Our president.

"Our enemies are innovative and resourceful, and so are we. They never stop thinking about new ways to harm our country and our people, and neither do we." - President George W. Bush, Washington, D.C., Aug. 5, 2004

I have traveled by plane on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, and it is sort of thrilling. As long as you don't care if you actually make it to our destination.

Thanksgiving Day
I love going to other relatives for Thanksgiving. I enjoy the food, of course, but it is more than that. It is that all of us are spending time together, to pull together a meal that lasts for hours.

I don't know how your relatives do this, but we eat about 1:00 PM, and the initial dinner lasts a couple of hours, more or less. But it does not really end. After dessert, and having the men retire to football (yes, both the Detroit and Dallas games), we clean up and do a bit of catching up. This is the good conversations. Not the stiff beginning conversation.

We talk about relatives that are not there, about past Thanksgivings, about our plans from "Dark Friday" to New Years. And it is a lot of fun. And by the time the dinner is put away, it seems that we are informally eating dinner. Not that we stopped eating when putting dinner away.

Thanksgiving is great. And after the chemicals from the turkey kick in, we take little naps throughout the rest of the visit. Being relatives, it is nice to be talking to someone, and then dozing off to sleep on the couch. A wonderful feeling.

Black Friday
Black Friday, one of the busiest shopping days of the year, is an adventure. Now, I don't normally participate in the events. I love going shopping the day after Christmas. That was the shopping day when I was growing up. I love Christmas ornaments, and that is the best time to shop for them.

Now, I like shopping, and I really like Christmas shopping, but Black Friday is not my kind of day. I like strolling, watching people, as well as shopping, and I like doing it on sporadic days during December.

Well, I don't thing I will be posting Thursday or Friday since I will be taking the days off. Happy Thanksgiving!

Economics 301

I took one business class in college. It was a general business class for non-majors and "not so bright" business majors that have rich daddies. And in this business class, we received a taste for accounting (the Brussels sprouts of business, good for you but no one really like it), business law (tofu, no one really understands what tofu is, but they know they have to eat it), marketing (pizza, easy to understand and everyone likes it), finance (spinich, tastes good, but you really don't know why) and economics (white rice, a lot of starch, not a lot of nutritional value).

Okay, that's what I thought until recently.

My husband and I went to a lecture by an economist. Not my cup-o-tea, but I had to attend the lecture. When I think of economics, I think of supply side, I think of "butter and guns", I think of voodoo economics (thanks to Bush without the W – remember he charged Reagan with that). But this lecture was different.

This man talked about economics in a different way – he made it seem interesting, made it seem more real. And it was not about money. He made economics about incentives. And that makes sense to me. I mean, money makes transactions easier, but most people do not buy and sell things because of the money. They do so because of what money represents.

For instance, I have ten dollars in my purse, and if I pass a coffee shop (not Starbucks), I can enter and purchase a fived dollar cup of flavored coffee if the value of the coffee exceeds the five dollars in my purse.

Oh, that example is not about incentives. Try this one.

Lets say I make $35,000/year doing a fairly trivial job. It is 40 hours per week, with no overtime, and no real mental stress. I am offered a "managerial job" that pays $40,000/year, with potential for me working an additional 20 hours per week, with more mental stress. Well, that's about 1,000 hours. So I would be working for $5/hour for the extra hours, and my job would be tougher. So for me, the incentive is just not there.

In college, I was always unsure of buying guns or butter, especially since I had little experience with either. I was part of the Parkay® generation (butter-Parkay®). Me, I am liking this new economics.

Tapped Out Monday

I have writer's block. I don't want to write for NaNo, and I can't think of anything to write about today. On Friday, I wrote a blog entry, and I thought it was pretty good. But I doubt many people even read it.

And the kicker was that I was on a writing role, having taken the day off, and my husband came home early. Son-of-a-bitch. I probably would have written two additional blog entries, plus another 3,000 words for NaNo. Son-of-a-bitch.

There are times when I just want to sit at home and write. And it got ruined.

Part of the reason I was a bit bummed is that I have been a bit depressed lately, and my writing has suffered. It seemed, on Friday, that this changed. But after the interruption – okay, there were a couple of very pleasant orgasms as a part of the interruption – I could not write again. At the time, I sort of didn't care, but here it is Monday and I have nothing to write about.

Someone told me to write about football. Like I can contribute to a conversation about football. I don't really watch football. When I was in high school, I attended games, and the games were more of a social event than a spectator sport. That's the great thing about football. It has something for everyone. I like the social aspects – the getting food, the talking to "neighbors", the watching the sidelines. High school football is intimate. Now, I don't know much about football – I do know that you want to get the football into the endzone – but the positions. There is a quarterback, a half-back, a fullback. Now there is always a quarterback, but not always a half-back or fullback. That sort of doesn't make sense.

But it does not have to make sense as long as they sell nachos dripping with fake cheese. Have you ever noticed that everything goes better with cheese? And if not cheese, perhaps chocolate. Chocolate and whipped cream. Yeah, my lunch sort of sucked today. No cheese, chocolate or whipped cream.

So today, I have not much to say. Were I you, I would re-read Friday's post. It might be random, but at least I wrote something worth reading.

Random Friday #11

Link Exchange
I don't get why people ask me to exchange links. Not on this blog anymore, but on another one I maintain. I mean, you should link to a blog if you believe it is of interest to you or your readers. Conversely, the other blogger should link to back your blog if she believes it's good for her readers. Linking should be about quality, about fit, not reciprocation.

When someone asks to trade links, what they are really saying is "I don't really like your site enough to link to it. If I did, I'd already have your link up. But, even though your site isn’t worth linking to, I’ll do it anyway if you’ll link back."

Reminds me a little like exchanging oral sex offers. If the guy really doesn't want to do it, the oral sex isn't all that great. The same is true of link exchanges.

College Football
I follow one team in college football, and thankfully for me, they are not in the hunt for the national championship. Unlike most sports, there is no tournament for the national championship. This is not the case because of "academic integrity"; that the players need to study. Even NCAA I-AA football has a championship, and one could argue that their schools are more interested in players needing an education.

If my team were in the running, I would not be able to explain changes in the rankings. Hawaii, not my team but a proven underdog, has slipped in the rankings by winning. Now, I know they have no quality wins, but neither did Ohio State. Not really.

I don't know enough about football to be able to tell which team is better. All I know is that when looking at who beats whom, both Ohio State and Hawaii have not beaten a top twenty team this season. Even if Ohio State beats Michigan, well, Michigan is not a top twenty team. Oh, and if Hawaii beats Boise State, they will have beaten a top twenty team. Now, that does not mean that Hawaii is better than Ohio State, but there are lots of teams who have beaten several top twenty (and even top ten) teams.

I would sort of hate to root for Hawaii. Sort of like being an Auburn alum a few years ago. Perfect season, and did not get to play for the national championship. I am so glad that I don't take football seriously.

Great Hair
David Krumholtz has the nicest hair. Why isn't he all over the tabloids. I mean, if you are going to make someone popular, make someone popular with yummy hair.

The Great Bra Chase
Every time I find a new, wonderful bra, the company who manufactures the bra changes the design. I believe that this is some sort of male bra manufacturer conspiracy. My latest find is the Wacoal iBra. Expensive but nice. I bet by this time next year, Apple Computer will have filed an injunction against Wacoal and the iBra will be no more. Then off to hunt a new favorite bra. I don't want to be a hunter; I want to be a gatherer with support.

Double Standards

I don't normally watch the news.

I learned about the wildfires in California two days after they started. This morning I heard about some upticks in the economy, and George W. Bush was reelected president. Okay, I am not that bad (with regard to the president).

But over the last few days, I have heard two stories that are sort of connected, by theme at least.

In one story, some 13-year-old boy¹, an illegal alien, ran off with his 25-year-old teacher to Mexico. Well, turns out they found her and are bringing her back on statutory rape charges. She met him in sixth grade, and they ran off together while he was in eighth grade. Sad thing is that she has another child, currently staying with her parents.

There was another piece of news where a Wisconsin mother who told her children a little too much about sex. Apparently she was charged with exposing children to improper instruction – I forget the proper legal terms. She told her two boys, 11 and 15, about oral sex and showed them a sex toy. The older boy was troubled with this and told a school counselor. Me, I don't want people to imply that my parents ever had sex. I just don't want to be scarred by the image.

In the first story, there is a bit of snickering. Actually, some say that not only is the boy lucky, but that he may be able to come back to the US legally, with a 4-year-VISA. No public outcry, really.

The second story was a bit more tragic. Maybe the mother was a little misguided, but it did not seem criminal. It was criminal, since she pled guilty, there was a court date, judge and all. But you know what I mean.

There is a double-standard regarding exposing children to sex. And these are children.

A boy has sex with an older woman, and there are grins all around. A girl has sex with an older man and people are calling for the removal of his testicles. And I am as guilty as the next person. I have suggested gardening shears be used.

And I may have figured it out after all this time. When I was sixteen years old, if you took a naked picture of me and compared me to 18 or 21, my appearance – sans hairstyle – would have been nearly identical. Physically, I was an adult at sixteen.

Emotionally, however, I was still a child – an adolescent, but still not really a grown-up. I may have thought I was a young woman, but after becoming one, I realized that I was an adolescent when in high school. I almost typed "just an adolescent", but you know adolescence can be quite wonderful.

I think statutory rape laws protect children against themselves. I still don't know why we snicker when talking about boys in that way. I guess I don't have all of the answers today.

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¹Some reports say he is a bit older.

Veteran's Day

Yesterday, I hit the stores because, after all, it was Veterans Day.

I believe it is a sad state of affairs that Veterans Day's most visible signs happen to be "20% Off Sales" signs. I watched the morning news, and their comment was about Veterans Day is that "traffic would be light in the morning."

I heard a quote by George Washington that said something about caring for the veterans. That a nation needs to care for their veterans in order to be secure. I have looked and looked for the quote, but can't find it at this time.

One would think that there would be more associated with Veterans Day. More since we have more than 100,000 soldiers, sailors and airmen in harm's way. More since we have a president who puts them in harm's way.

I am not one for big public celebrations. I mean, for me, a drive to St. John the Baptist Cathedral to light candles for the veterans I knew is the way I prefer to mark the day. I mean, in a couple of weeks, who is going to remember that new sweater? But the veterans' sacrifices should be remembered for all times.

You Said "What?"

The other day, someone at work said, "I don't mean to be an ass, but . . . " and before thinking, I said, "yeah, you did."

When people say, "I don't want to butt in, but . . . " or "I am not racist, but . . .", I figure they are signaling me that they are what they say they aren't.

I am typing up a storm for that freakin' NaNo-crap thing, so I am all spent for the week, but this just occurred to me.

I also wonder why the price of gas goes up right after crude oil prices go up, but it takes so much time to transport, refine, etc. But when crude oil goes down, the price of oil doesn't go down the same week. Weird, huh?