Sometimes my job is funny.

Take today. I'm working on state assessment preparation for New York, Georgia, Pennsylvania, and Texas. I'm editing passages and test items designed to practice and review specific elementary reading and writing skills as outlined by each state. Let me tell you, this is some dry, dry, dry stuff. But most of the writers I edit are outstanding. They can write quality passages and valid item within parameters that would paralyze most mortals. But every now and again they start to lose it.

Today has been one of those days.

This morning a writer submitted a 6th grade fable in which a rooster character was named "Cock." Thankfully, the cat character was named "Cat."

A few hours later, I received this gem of a passage:

Last week we held a meeting. As the unlikely leader of the group, I was in charge of getting the volunteers back on track. I prepared this speech before the meeting, and then read it to the group of volunteers.
“I know I don’t need to remind you again. Forming this group is likely very important to you. If we don’t follow the rules exactly, we risk being intermingled with those other groups. Now, I know there are a lot of boxes to unwrap. But if you get started now, it shouldn’t take too long. Once the boxes are open, you’ll be able to move on to the next task. You have to comb through the papers inside to find out if there are any preexisting groups like ours. You know, likeminded groups that have already been approved.”

I understand all the words, but I can't even begin to fathom what the writer was thinking about when composing this piece.

I think it's time to turn off the computer and call it a day.

EVOL

To shoot this short film, the director had the two lead actors do their roles in reverse. Then he reversed the film so the main characters are moving one way and the whole rest of the world is moving backwards. I think it's beautiful, even though I can't quite get my head around it.

I'm so happy there are people in this world who can surprise me with this kind of whimsy. It's like a poem on film. I love it. (Which means I must have a mushy sentimental side after all. . .)

Are you listening "Super" delegates?

My die-hard conservative daddy--the one who, to the best of my knowledge, has voted Republican since he voted for Reagan when I way yea' high--told me something interesting today. He's worked out his voting plan.

If McCain gets the Republican nomination (which seems inevitable at this point) and Obama gets the Democratic nomination, he's voting Dem.

However, McCain is the Republican and if Hillary Clinton takes the Democratic nomination, he'll vote Pub.

Interesting, no?

A Stupid Vent--feel free to skip this one

Those of you who know me well know that I love to give gifts. I truly enjoy choosing gifts for people I care about, and I'll often see something perfect for someone and have to wait months for the appropriate opportunity to give it to them. Maybe I do it because it's so hard for me to say how I feel--and this is an easier way to show people they're important to me and that I care enough about them to think about what they would really enjoy, or what would make them laugh, or what they need and don't even know it.

I *KNOW* that not everyone sees gift giving the same way I do. In fact many of the people I know and love actually find it to be an unwelcome obligation.

So, these are my disclaimers. I get that I'm a freak, and I get that you might not derive as much pleasure from choosing a gift for me as I do for you. I'm cool with that. I really, truly am.

But what I'm NOT cool with is somebody asking me what I would like for, let's say, an upcoming birthday. And asking me again. And asking me again, more insistently. And then, once I've finally come up with something out of sheer guilt, deriding me because what I suggest isn't something they would want or because it's not "special" enough. Are you kidding me? They why the hell not just get me what YOU want to get me? Or get me nothing. Or donate some money to a charity in my name and be done with it. Really! Any of those options are PERFECTLY fine with me! But don't freaking put me down after you've been on my ass for a month just so you can check me off your to-do list.

It occurred to me today. What I *really* want for my 40th birthday is for you to stop riding me about what I want for my birthday. Just be nice to me. THAT's what I want for my birthday.

Now, if only I could figure out how to get that message out to the right person.

Heavy sigh.

News Flash

One of the hardest things about freelancing is forcing yourself to work when you just don't wanna.

And in other breaking news. . .
Working out isn't fun.

These earth-shattering revelations are being brought to you by cedar and heavy winds. Because they have apparently sapped me of the will to get off my ass and do anything.

Martin Luther King, Jr.
by Mia

For homework (which she conveniently forgot to tell me about until after dinner the night before it was due), Mia had to write a short essay about a famous American. Mia selected MLK and wrote her "essay" based on her prior knowlege.

Martin Luther King jr. is a vayery good man. He died in 1968. He was a good man because he led many marches. And his bigist one was the march for the colerd peple and the wight peple to have pece!

How sweet is that?

(Editing to add--"1968" was not part of Mia's prior knowledge. She asked Davy for the year MLK died.)

What Would YOU Do?

I need to learn how to do a poll. I'm sure blogger has a tool for it, but I don't know where to find it.

But we can still do a poll without the fancy graphics, right? We're all well educated here. We can add up the 3-4 votes in our heads and interpret the results on our own. Yeah. That's right. We don't need no stinking automatic poll thingy.

So here's the question. . .

Assume you are having an instant message chat with a friend. Someone you know-in real life, not just online. Let's say this person is a good friend with a questionable sense of humor. So, in the middle of said IM chat, good friend sends you a hyperlink. Then, in the next line, good friend says "Don't click that link." Next line: "Really. I mean it. Don't click that link."

What do you do? Do you click the link? Be honest now. And if you're reading this but you don't ever comment for some reason or other, tell me in person. I need a good statistical representation. Because, well, I just do.

I Don't Know About This

According to a report on KXAN, Austin is one of the 20 most romantic cities in the United States. Based on what, you ask? Well, apparently Amazon.com compiled the list based on the sale of romance novels and relationship books. Austin is #18 on a list that includes Cambridge, Irvine, and Ann Arbor.

It doesn't take much in the way of critical thinking skills to see that they've drawn the wrong conclusion. If these cities were so damn romantic, why would people be buying romance novels and relationship books?

Seems to me, at least based on Amazon's criteria, this would indicate that Austin is actually one of the LEAST romantic cities in America, or one of the least romantically successful.

Or--and I'm going out on a limb here-- MAYBE people who live in Austin (and Cambridge, Irvine, and Ann Arbor) buy a lot of books from Amazon.com in general. But that doesn't make for a very sexy headline. . .

LOL!

So, I'm proof reading a work-related document for the husband, which is kind of funny, because I understand very little in it. But lo! Here's something I didn't know!! My very own brilliant husband is the GeT SME in the IBM GNA.

Who knew?

Also Interesting

Me: Why don't you ever read my blog?
Husband: You never sent me the URL.
Me: You never asked for it.
Husband: I figured if you wanted me to read it, you'd send me a link.
Me: I figured if you were interested, you'd ask.

Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

Interesting. . .

This afternoon I ran my dad, a moderate-to-conservative Republican, through the questions of the candidate matching quiz that I posted a few days ago. As I asked the questions, I realized that the survey is very, very biased toward Democrats. In many cases there was no answer he could get behind at all and the "Republican" answer was almost always phrased in a way that was blatantly negative. But Daddy did his best, and came out with an 81% match with Hillary Clinton.

Believe me when I tell you---if there is one candidate that my father would NEVER, EVER, EVER vote for, it is Hillary Clinton.

He had a good sense of humor about it though. And he surprised me with a few of his answers--most specifically his support of the legalization of marijuana. I read the question twice because I thought he had misunderstood the answer choices. But no.

So now I'm asking myself: Who was that man in my house this afternoon?

Andrew Olmstead

This is the last post of a U.S. soldier who kept a blog for the Rocky Mountain News. He wrote this entry and asked a friend to post it in the case of his death.

It's worth the five minutes it will take you to read it.

Wow.

www.andrewolmstead.com

Who the Hell is Chris Dodd?

I answered a few questions about current issues at gotoquiz.com 2008 Presidential Candidate Matching Quiz. The answers matched me up with the following candidates according to how I feel about the issues.

I'm stunned to see Giuliani at the top of my list of Republicans. I'm not sure how that can be. Other than that, and the fact that I have no idea who Chris Dodd is, these results make sense.

P.S. Sorry about the blue font. It imported that way and I'm too lazy to figure out how to make it more readable.

84% Chris Dodd
84% Barack Obama
82% Hillary Clinton
81% John Edwards
78% Joe Biden
77% Bill Richardson
74% Mike Gravel
73% Dennis Kucinich
52% Rudy Giuliani
45% John McCain
35% Mitt Romney
34% Mike Huckabee
29% Tom Tancredo
27% Ron Paul
23% Fred Thompson

My family is CRAZEEEEEE

The following is an excerpt from an e-mail I got from a near relative. Believe it or not, it was part of a Christmas greeting. I love said relative, but let's just say we stand on very different sides of the political fence. He frequently regails me with new ideas and theories he has picked up from talk radio. Sometimes I'll take the bait and rebut, but more often I just let it go.

But I don't even know what to make of this one. For what it's worth, I've changed the names of his wife and daughters. "Alice" is the wife, "Suzi" is the 15-year-old daughter, and "Monica" is the 22-year-old daughter.

Taxi driver in San Diego yesterday morning was a "Political refugee" from some "Small Shad-Like country" Elytra?? in Africa,
He is one of the thousands that I question , worry about and let Suzi know she needs to worry when in large cities. He has been here since 1986 and before the priest signed his U S Immigration documents he had been in the "War' of that nation since 1970" had both parents and siblings murdered and burned; joined the "Rebel forces' and was a "Killing Machine" my interpretation of 50 questions he answered for me killing anyone his rebel leaders told him to kill prior to him being 20 years old. Back in his day there was no DOPE just guns and blood!
He was the third African, one Eithopian, one Sudanese and him all have been allow in the country since 1986, two from "Rebel armies"
That is one very simple reason I pick up my "Concealed weapon permit" tomorrow cause I have already done the first coarse, as Monica and Alice have, and plan to do 8 courses!

What the hell is that supposed to mean? Lordy. Methinks he forgot to take his crazy meds. . . Best I can tell, he's using an African immigrant taxi driver, who has apparently been in this country legally since 1986, as his justification for needing to carry a concealed weapon. But I can't be entirely sure.

And what, exactly, does "DOPE" have to do with any of it?

God help us all.

Fuck you, Rubik. And your damn cube.

Davy and I had a great time in Chicago. The weather was unseasonably warm while we were there and our hotel accomodations were AMAZING. I simply can't recommend the Palmer House Hilton highly enough--especially the executive level in the towers. It was fantastic!

My mom stayed in Austin to take care of the girls while we were gone, and they seem to have had a great time with minimal meltdowns, although that is surprising considering how much they did while we were gone.

Unfortunately, Mom took them to see Santa while we were away, which is always a disaster in the making after wishes have already been communicated and accomodated. But, well, what are you going to do?

Both girls had previously asked for Nintendo DS's and a couple of other small items, all of which had been purchased and prepared for Christmas Eve. But, as always happens when you let a child talk to Santa right before Christmas, they came up with some new ideas on Santa's lap.

In addition to the Nintendo DS, a certain Webkinz, and a skateboard, Mia suddenly developed a desperate need for a "real" magic wand. Can you imagine the havok that would be wrought if Santa were to go around giving out real magic wands? Oy ve. We pointed out that it could be very dangerous if a magic wand were to fall into the wrong hands. Mia agreed with this idea, but she pointed out that she was only planning to use it for two things: to get a cell phone and to fly.

She didn't get a real magic wand. . .

And then there was Zoe. Zoe wants to play the double bass (aka bass fiddle or string bass) and she's wanted to for years. Trouble is, the bass is an enormous instrument and miniature versions (1/8 scale) are relatively rare and quite expensive. Plus, kids outgrow them pretty quickly and have to move up to 1/4 scale and then 1/2 scale in a matter of a few years. So, with her agreement, we've put it off until she's a little bigger. However, while sitting on Santa's lap, she came up with a brilliant idea. "Santa," she said "I know it's kind of late notice, but I was thinking since miniature bass fiddles are so hard to find, maybe your elves could make me one."

Luckily, we were able to find a *really* miniature wooden bass in Chicago--two inches tall. . . We put it in her stocking and she thought it was very funny. She's not sure if Santa misunderstood or if he has a really good sense of humor. But she admitted that she got "exactly" what she asked for.

At least they didn't ask for a pony. . .

Experience is a strange word.

Think about it for awhile. Say it a few times. I think you'll see what I mean.

That's what it's like inside my head. . .

Ridiculous!

To my ever-growing list of things that drive me NUTS, I'd like to add the following: catsup.

I don't care if it IS a valid spelling. It's ridiculous. Ketchup is also a valid spelling, and much less ridiculous.

Use it.

Dumb Kids

I often forget how fortunate I am. All the children in my immediate circle of friends are very, very bright. They are, without exception, charming and fun kids with whom I enjoy spending time. However, they've spoiled me for "regular" kids. And I'm always stunned when I'm forced to face the reality of a child who is, um, not so smart.

For those of you who think every child is gifted, well, perhaps you should stop reading now. Or you and I could agree to disagree. Because I'm going to be blunt .

My daughter (and I'm not going to tell which one at the risk of outing the child in question) has a friend who is not smart. In fact, she's just plain dumb. I'd say she's dumb as a rock, but frankly, that would be giving her far too much credit and the rock far too little. This child is not developmentally delayed. Apparently she's perfectly average at school. She's hitting her benchmarks, blah, blah, blah. But she doesn't have the sense God gave an earthworm. Critical thinking skills? They must be banned at her house. Along with curiosity, humor, and books. She's perfectly nice, and I can take her in small doses, but after a few hours she tries the absolute limits of my patience.

Man. I love my kids. And if you're reading this and you have kids, I love yours too. But the dumb ones?

Not so much.

There's. A. Dead. Rat. In. Front. Of. My. House.

Legs up in the air.

Dead.

I'm afraid I have to move.