Thursday, December 30, 2010

Rabid's Greatest Hits

I'm in the process of transferring every last one of my CDs into MP3 format.  This has turned out to be quite the ordeal.  More of an ordeal than I thought.  After I've transferred these CDs, I plan to box said CDs, and stuff 'em away for all time and infinity.  Or at least all time and when the Yahoos check us into a rest home.  Save yer money Yahoos!  It's gonna be expensive to put us away!  Cackle, cackle.

Just now, I experienced an unnatural, fiendishly-evil joy over the thought of our beloved Yahoos forking over, prolly like $10,000 a month, to sideswipe the ritual of changing our senior diapers.  Cackle, cackle.

Anyway, as I was rummaging through each CD, importing and categorizing, I stumbled upon one titled "Rabid's Greatest Hits." This title is scribbled with Stepmonster Moe's handwritting.  Hmmmm, I thought.  I vaguely remember the gifting of this little gem, but can't quite remember what was on it.  I imported it right directly.  So, here's Rabid's Greatest Hits according to Moe. Incidentally, this took me down a serious lane of memories.

Swedish Chef cooks with Chocolate - Swedish Chef:  I was a big fan of the Muppets.  Still am, actually.  The Chef was one of my favorite characters.  Chocolate's my thing too.  But you all knew that.

Beat It - Michael Jackson:  Loved, lurved, loved Michael.  Still do.  In fifth grade, I made a complete ASS out of myself by dressing as Mr. Jackson, and performing the Billy Jean dance in front of EVERYONE.  I'm pretty sure people still make fun of me for this.

Right Now - Van Halen:  Prolly some reference to my lack of patience.  Give it to me RIGHT NOW, damnit.

Girls Just Want To Have Fun - Cindi Lauper:  Every girl needs this one on their greatest hits.

Break On Through - The Doors: After my Michael phase, I jumped right into the Jim Morrison phase.  Oh how The Doors made me feel all happy and groovy.  I believe my high school bedroom was decorated with three or four Doors/Jim Morrison posters.  And all my little folders fer school had that nifty doodling of the Doors' logo.  It was a Bad A logo, wasn't it?  No one's yet to touch it.  Come on, come on, come on now touch me babe!  Can't you see that I am not afraid!  What was that promise that you made?  Why don't you tell me what she said!  Jimmy, babe?  Gonna love you til the heavens stop the rain too!

The Wonderful Thing About Tiggers - Tee, Eye, Double Ghu, Er:  Do you think Moe is insinuating that I'm a spazz?  I think he is.

25 Or 6 To 4 - Chicago: Not sure what Moe meant by this one, so I gave it a listen.  Was I 25 when he gave this CD to me?  I might have been.  Could you even burn CDs back then?  After looking at the lyrics, however, it totally fits.  Although there is some allusion to drug use, don't you think?  What are you trying to say, Moe?  Huh?!

Waiting for the break of day
Searching for something to say
Flashing lights against the sky
Giving up I close my eyes
Sitting cross-legged on the floor
Twenty-five or six to four

Staring blindly into space
Getting up to splash my face
Wanting just to stay awake
Wond'ring how much I can take
Should I try to do some more
Twenty-five or six to four

Feeling like I ought to sleep
Spinning room is sinking deep
Searching for something to say
Waiting for the break of day
Twenty-five or six to four
Twenty-five or six to four

A Little Bit Country-A Little Bit Rock 'n Roll - Donny and Marie:  Donny was my heart throb before kindergarten.  I watched the Donny and Marie show every week.  I've also been known to spastically gift D and M songs to people out of the blue.  What?!  You haven't gotten one from me yet?  Oh, you just wait.

Scooby Doo Theme:  Um? Rooby, Rooby Doo?

Can't Touch This - M.C. Hammer:  When I was 16, I took the little sister to the Hammer concert.  I could drive, she couldn't, and that's why I went.  Back then I wouldn't admit that I enjoyed myself, you know, what with my trying to be a hippie and such.  Now, however?  I'll admit it.  'Twas a great time.

Rondo alla Turca - Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart:  The hardest song I ever mastered on the piano was this Rondo alla Turca tune.  It was so much work to learn, that I've promised myself that I wouldn't unlearn it.  For this reason, it's THE song I play whenever I visit the place I grew up.  They are so very tired of me playing that song.  The funny thing about the particular arrangement he put on the CD, is that it's all brass instruments and no piano.  Moe is funny.

One Bad Apple - The Osmonds:  Yip. You guessed it.  I'm The Bad Apple, The Black Sheep, the One with a Screw Loose.

Born To Be Wild - Ozzy Osbourne and Miss Piggy:  Again, love the Muppets, and love Ozzy.  What could be better than the two of them singing Born To Be Wild?  The pig was my favorite animal growing up.  Mostly because the folks took me to a pig farm when I was just two-ish.  I couldn't say "piggies" so I called 'em "kibbies."  Kibby is my knick name.  Sometimes the mom still calls me that.  It's totally embarrassing.

Barber's Adagio For Strings (Ferry Corsten Remix) - William Orbit:  Classical meets techno.  Nice, yes?  I suppose that sums up my music taste?  Everything meets everything!  It's all good!  Except whiney country.  Whiney country is not good!

Rainbow Connection - Kermit:  More Muppet Madness.  The little sister bawled uncontrollably during our viewing of The Great Muppet Caper.  We still give her crap for that.

The Polka Dot Door: Huh?  Don't get the connection there.  I don't remember watching that show.  I was into the Romper Room and Miss Jullie's Magic Mirror (hullo?  alliteration?)  Romper Bomper Stomper Boo!  Tell me, tell me, tell me doo!

Too Much Booty - Soundmaster T:  What the hell are you saying there, Moe?  Are you saying my ass is big?  It is a good song, however. I'll give him that.

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Monday, December 27, 2010

Tuesday Tune, vol 67 - December's Departed

Christmas is crazy!  So many directions, so many activities, so little time.  Sigh.  Anyway, here's your final Departed Playlist, featuring those who've departed in December.  Being as the year is almost over, this is it for the Departed Playlists.  Sigh again. What theme, pray tell, should we establish for next year?  Any ideas?

Thanks again to Vera.  Without Vera, we'd never know which musicians died in what month.  Just think of the emptiness you'd feel if you didn't know which musicians died in what month.  Incidentally, Vera's other half Stu Christmas-gifted a giant hiking trip to Machu Picchu.  Whore.  Kidding.  Er, not.

Baby Please Don't Go - Big Joe Williams (unknown)
Humpty's Blues - The Guess Who (RIP guitarist Kurt Winter, kidney failure)
I Love Lucy - RIP Desi Arnaz (lung cancer)
I'd Cry Like A Baby - Dean Martin (emphysema and lung cancer)
In Dreams - Roy Orbison (heart attack)
It Isn't Fair - Dinah Washington (accidental overdose on diet pills)
Julie Ann Johnson - Leadbelly (Lou Gehrig's disease)
Kaddish - RIP Maurice Ravel (unsuccessful surgery)
My Lover's Prayer - Otis Redding (plane crash)
Nutbush City Limits - Ike and Tina Turner (RIP Ike Turner, heroine overdose)
Piano Concerto No.23 in A, K.488: II. Adagio - Mozart (fever)
Post Toastee - Tommy Bolin (overdose)
Rhythm Of The Rain - Dan Fogelberg (cancer)
Spooky - Classics IV (RIP Dennis Yost, respiratory failure after a fall)
Stink Foot - Frank Zappa (cancer)
All Keyed Up - Floyd Cramer (lung cancer)
A White Sport Coat And A Pink Carnation - Marty Robbins (surgical complications)
Working Class Hero - John Lennon (shot by Mark Chapman)
This Love - Pantera (RIP Dime Bag Darrell, shot by a fan)
Your Love Is Like A Cancer - Son Seals (diabetes)
Bad Luck - Albert King (heart attack)
Salt Lake City - The Beach Boys (RIP Dennis Wilson, drowned)
The Boss - James Brown (heart failure)

p.s. I was sneaky and back-dated this post.  Sneaky!

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Friday, December 24, 2010

A Christmas Miracle

I believe that there's a miracle each and every Christmas.  Some years we must look harder to find our Christmas Miracles than in other years.  This year, however, we had a slap-us-in-the-face Christmas Miracle.

To me, Christmas is all in the cards.  I love Christmas cards.  I love to get them, I love to send them.  I love to send them to people I haven't seen in years, I love to send them to people I see every day, I love to send them to people I just met, and I love to send them to people who will never send us one in return.  If you send us a card, no matter what it is, what you do or do not write, I will adhere the bounteous beauty of your blessed beneficence to a door (two doors if necessary,) and leave it there for months.*

I freaking love Christmas cards.

(*Unless your name is Jason Chaffetz.  I don't get why he sends a card every year.  We can't even vote for him, due to the fact that we do not live in his district.)

The photo we send out each year is attended to with great detail.  We think of the concept all year, we plan out the specifics, then we hem and haw, and hem some more.  Why do I go to great lengths for the silly Christmas Card?  Simply put, it's all Bryan Niven's fault.  I took a photography class from this creative genius Bryan Niven about four years ago, and ever since, I've vouched and vowed that our family portraits will forever and ever tell a story.  Isn't that what these pictures are for?  So that fifty years from now your offspray can learn a thing or two of you?  I guarantee your heritage is more interested in your story and less interested in whether you look like Jennifer Aniston (or whoever the "it" chick and dude are these days.)

This year, I had some sad news.  "Spouse," said I, "there's no money in the budget for Christmas Cards this year.  We won't be doing Christmas cards."  Spouse got kind of mopey.  I think he's just as much into the card thing as I am, but won't admit it.  "How much is it going to cost?" He asked.  I told him a dollar figure and Spouse moped some more.

(For some reason, I find the amount of cash I spend on the Christmas Card to be highly sensitive -- as sensitive, even, as my social security number.  That's why I'm not telling you all the dollar figure.  Even though I do the photo each year myself, there's the printing price, and the envelope expenditure, and the setback from the stamps -- it adds up.)

The next day, Spouse came home from work and fetched the mail.  He opened an envelope, grinned, then asked, "How much did you say we needed for the Christmas Card this year?"  I told him how much, he grinned even more, and handed me the newly-opened piece of mail.

Wouldn't you know, the overpaid escrow from our house situation was returned to us.  And it was $3 more than what I needed for cards.

That, friends, is a true Christmas Miracle.  An exhausted economy handed us some extra Christmas Card Cash.  Here's hoping that this exhausted economy hands you something as well.

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Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Tuesday Tune, vol 66 - Ganesh is Fresh

Today's Tuesday Tune is Ganesh is Fresh by M.C. Yogi.  It's brought to you by Megan, who let me know of its existence late Sunday night after I posted that one thing on Obstacles and Beginnings.   Give it a listen, and perhaps you'll learn more about Ganesh.  Just in time for Christmas.

(Honestly I'm Christian, but I find other religions and rituals extremely fascinating.)

Here are the lyrics, just in case you too are fascinated:

Ganesh is so fresh chillin on his throne / surrounded by incense fruit and gold / with a heap of sweets piled in his bowl / he guards the gate and protects the threshold / when your blessed by Ganesh than you can travel / on a sacred journey to an inner temple / he paves the path that leads to the soul / and he’s known for removing all obstacles / now some may think it’s illogical / a myth or it’s just philosophical / but Ganesh makes everything possible / because elephant power’s unstoppable /


chorus
Jaya Ganesha Jaya Ganesha Jaya Ganesha Om


Ganesh is the god of wisdom loved by children / known for blessing homes that we live in / the lord of all creatures with divine features / inspiring the minds of yogi’s and truth seekers / he’s the son of Shiva and Parvati / he’s got an elephants head and a fat belly / with a snake for a belt to hold up his pants / he rides on a mouse and he loves to dance / with a lotus unfolding inside one of his of his hands / and an ax to attack all ignorance / a broom to remove any hindrance / and a noose to reduce all selfishness / he writes the pages that the sages chant / dropping ancient vedic science so we can comprehend / all the many ways that we can transcend / jai to Ganesh he’s a yogi’s best friend /
Find More lyrics at www.sweetslyrics.com


chorus
Jaya Ganesha Jaya Ganesha Jaya Ganesha Om


I pray to Ganesh to take away the stress / and pave the way into a place that’s blessed / centered in the chest where the breath is felt / when your blessed by Ganesh than the stress can melt / he destroys the knots that confine your thoughts / he dissolves the walls and he breaks the blocks / he unlocks the door to the sacred core / & he guards the gate at the pelvic floor / the benevolent elephant wise and intelligent / at the base of the spine he’s the earth element / he’s the ruler of the muladhara chakra / his brother rides a peacock and his names is Skanda / he’s the son of Uma and Mahadeva / I offer this puja to my homie Ganesha / to the son of Parvati and Mahesh / dedicated to Ganesh cuz he’s so Fresh /


chorus
Jaya Ganesha Jaya Ganesha Jaya Ganesha Om

Sunday, December 19, 2010

Obstacles and Beginnings

Friday was a strange, strange day.  A day right out of the Twilight Zone.

Funny thing is, I knew it was going to be a strange one at 5:45am when the yoga festivities began. I don't normally frequent the early morning yoga because I am a stiff and crumbly cookie.  It usually takes me a few hours of walking around before I can even think about an Adho Mukha Svanasana let alone put myself in one. We Westerners know this as the downward-facing dog, by the way.

I'm stiffer than most.  That alone keeps me from frequenting early morning yoga.

Friday was different.  Spouse wanted me to do some cross-country skiing with him during his lunch hour.  I wasn't sure if I was going to go.  I mean, really.  I don't have time or money for another hobby, one with a whole new set of gear.  If I ski once with Spouse, I'll want to go all the time, and I can't go all the time, so I might as well not go once. (How's that for self-defeating logic.)  If I decide to ski with Spouse, I miss yoga, but I need yoga to keep my back happy, so I decided to try this 5:45 class for the first time, just in case I changed my mind and decided to ski with Spouse.  (Obviously not 100% self-defeating logic.)

The name of this Friday at 5:45 teacher is Jess.  And let me tell you, Jess is the real yogi deal.  She's not one of those bendy-dancer-cheerleader types, who've gone yogini, and babble the "metaphysical bullshit*".  Not that the bendy-dancer-cheerler types cannot be the real yogi deal, but this Jess, this Eastern Spirit trapped in a Westerner's body, is the real freakin' deal.  She teaches yoga in more Sanskrit than English.  If I want to keep up in her class, I'll have to start learning some Sanskrit.


*My favorite yoginita Megan coined that one.  And where on earth do I put the period in that there sentence?

First thing Jess did, was wax poetic about the upcoming Winter Solstice.  "And then there's Ganesh," she added, "Ganesh does not like the Winter Solstice.  Not at all.  So we will begin our class today by doing a Ganesha Sahasranama."  Jess followed that announcement with about two minutes of chanting directly to this Ganesh, in Sanskrit.  Or was in Hindi?  Who knows.  Either way, I was totally digging it.  Decided then and there that today would be a day that I talk to Ganesh.  It was going to be an all day, me and Ganesh day.

Wondering about this Ganesh?  Ganesh is a Hindu God known for being the "Remover of Obstacles," and the "Lord of Beginnings."  Clearly, you can see why this Ganesh guy can't get jiggy with the Winter Solstice.  The Winter Solstice is pretty much the beginning of doom, which really isn't a beginining.  As far as obstacles are concerned, winter brings many, therefore making Winter loads of work for this poor Ganesh.  Winter can be a big fat downer.  There's darkness, and cold, and the tax season.  I have no doubt that Ganesh knew of this tax season when he fashioned his opinion of the Winter Solstice.

Ganesh is easy to spot and whatnot because he's the God with the elephant head.

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Anyway, Ganesh and I were conversing back 'n forth on the way home.  After I arrived to produce breakfast and whip the Yahoos into school-time readiness, I pulled up the facebook.  This facebook proves better than the news for current events, so it's a good way to see what's happening.

Friday was a sad day on this facebook.  First thing I saw was Vera, who said something about missing the Provo Tabernacle.  In the which I asked her what was up with this Tabernacle.  Did she tell me?  No!  Dang her.  She told me to turn on the television.  (So much for facebook giving me the news.) I turned on the television.  And bawled.  Well not really bawled, but I think a tear or two dropped.

The Provo Tabernacle was on fire.  It was completely and totally engulfed in flame.  The ceiling had collapsed and the building was toast.

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Photo taken from Kansas City Star, of all places.

So what's the big deal about this Tabernacle building?  Well first it's historic, and most likely the oldest building in Provo, Utah.  It's a place where music is played beautifully and often.  It's home of the Utah Valley Symphony.  It's also the place where my Mom and Stepmonster Moe met, prolly 29 years ago, while both were members of this Utah Valley Symphony. 

The Provo Tabernacle is a symbol of a new beginning for them.  This Tabernacle is also a symbol of a new beginning to me, because Stepmoster Moe proved to be a heck of nice guy, the kind you want to keep around for, like, ever.  (Even though he's an old washed up hippie and won't eat broccoli.  Poor Moe.  Trust me, you don't want me as your stepdaughter.  Poor, poor Moe.

"Ganesh!" I hollered.  "The Tabernacle is no obstacle in need of removal!  PUT IT BACK!  Dang you.  PUT IT BACK! I say. BE KIND REWIND!"  

Then I had one of those spastically-deep and breath-taking moments.  Get this:  New beginnings come when, and only when, an obstacle is removed.  Isn't Ganesh pure freakin' genius!?  

I'm still mad at Ganesh for taking our precious Tabernacle.  And I'll wait impatiently to see what new beginning comes as a result.  Incidentally, when I think of new beginnings, I think of a new start, or a new birth, or a new baby with fresh, new skin.  Am I the only one that finds it strangely coincidental that the NuSkin building is right next door?

Oh!  And speaking of babies, the Yahoo's piano teacher is expecting one soon.  She also plays violin in the Utah Valley Symphony.

See?  I told you it was Twilight Zone material.  

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Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Tuesday Tune, vol 65 - November's Departed

We're two weeks into December and I'm just now getting you the departed for November.  Did anyone even notice?  I mean, am I doing all this departed Tuesday Tune business for naught?  Even if it is for naught, I'm doing it for me.  And Vera.  And anyone else who isn't naught.  Eee.  (Yuk, yuk.)  So for all of you out there, that are naught-eee or nice (or both -- yuk, yuk), I present (with the help of Vera) tunes from those who departed in November.

The Chicken - "Mississippi" John Hurt
Time Is A Healer - Eva Cassidy (melanoma)
The Battle Of New Orleans - Johnny Horton (car crash)
Soul And Inspiration - The Righteous Brothers (RIP Bobby Lee Hatfield, cocaine induced heart attack)
Nutcracker: Dance of the Reed Pipes - Peter Tchaikovasky (cholera)
This Is Ridiculous  - New York Dolls (RIP Billy Murcia, choked on coffee)
Freakin' At The Freaker's Ball - Dr. Hook and The Medicine Show (RIP Jance Garfat, motorcycle accident)
It's Not My Cross To Bear - The Allman Brothers Band (RIP bassist Berry Oakley, motorcycle accident at same place as Duane Allman, one year later)
Love Is All Around - The Troggs (RIP Ronne Bond, unknown)
Cross-Eyed Mary - Jethro Tull (RIP bassist John Clascock, heart failure)
Teardrops From My Eyes - Ruth Brown (stroke and heart attack)
You Gotta Ho-De-Ho (To Get Along With Me) - Cab Galloway (stroke)
Bang Your Head (Metal Health) - Quiet Riot (RIP Kevin Dubrow, cocaine overdose)
Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah - Allan Sherman (emphysema)

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Sunday, December 12, 2010

Parenting Pockmarks

Some time ago, prolly like three or four months, Spouse and I were talking.  We do a lot of that, you know, this talking.  These little audible discourses are something I look forward to.  Mostly because he uses big words and I can look 'em up on the mePhone dictionary.  "Hold that thought dear," I'd say.  "Lemme look that one up.  Now, how do you spell it again?"

I tell you what, he wouldn't be all that fun to argue with.  He could throw an insult my way and I wouldn't even know it.  By the way, that sentence was structured as such, in the future tense, because we never argue.  Ever.  Except for maybe that common marital squabble over the division of household labors.  These so-called "arguments" aren't vocabulary builders because there aren't many glossarial alternatives for "Why didn't you take out the effing garbage?!"  

After some careful research, I sit here corrected. There are many alternatives for both "effing" and "garbage."  I won't go into effing, because that one lacks creativity.  Garbage on the other hand has many opportunities.  There's debri, detritus, drek, dregs, dross, filth, junk, offal, rubble, slop, and waste. Expand on it a bit and you get, "Why didn't you take out that odorous potpourri of slop?!"

We should argue more.  That was fun.

ANYWAY (insert big sigh here), the point of this post is a little conversation Spouse and I had and then perhaps a visual aid that our clever little Yahoo #1 provided earlier today.  So Spouse and I are talking about the Yahoos three or four months ago.  Specifically, we were talking about what they were good at and maybe some stuff they need help with.  During this discussion, Spouse said something along the lines of, "I think I've scarred the Yahoos for life."

You wanna hear my home-run, sock-it-to-em, kung-pow response?  "Well isn't that the point?  To scar our kids into being adults?"

It's totally the point folks.  Scar 'em into being adults.  Scar them into saying please and thank you.  Scar them into learning that money, talents, and resources come only with hard work.  Scar away entitlement.  Scar them into considering others.  Scar away abusive actions.  Scar them into respecting themselves and others.  Scar away the self-absorbed.  Scar them into helping others.

While we're scarring our Yahoos into being adults, we'll do some scarring on ourselves as well.  After all, we're still becoming adults, right?  We learn from our scars.

Evidently Yahoo #1 has figured out our diabolical design.  He was reading one of his many Calvin and Hobbes books, and decided to show me this one:


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Wednesday, December 08, 2010

Car/Pedestrian Feud

Folks, things are shifting.  There was a time, once upon, that drivers of vehicles had their eyes open for pedestrians and whatnot -- the whatnot being living obstacles that are walking, running, or riding without the protective bubble of a vehicle.  That was once upon a time.  In regards to right now, or more specifically, the last few months, I'm going to say that the time whence drivers actually had their eyes open for pedestrians has passed.

Seriously, since it began to get dark again, we early morning runners have had far too many vehicular close-calls.  We run on the defensive, against traffic, and assume we are not being seen (a requirement of course) but people driving cars are just not looking. 'Tis a pity, because, like, your life'll change forever, and not for the good, if you hit one of us.

Notice how I made that all about the driver.  I'm thinking that in order to get the word out and across, I'll need to dish it out in a self-serving manner, directed at the self-absorbed driver.  Forget about who you might hit, let's talk about YOU! And your precious vehicle!

Let's play Car/Pedestrian Fued, shall we?  First I have to tell you that this reminds me of my fourth grade teacher, Mr. Robbins (real name.)  Mr. Robbins missed school one day to be a contenstant on the Family Feud.  And later, we students got to watch it!  He gave a shout out to all his fourth grade students back home, then pulled a Louis Lamour book from his back pocket.  Mr. Robbins expressed his love for Louis Lamour books, and told how he encourages his fourth graders to read.  I'll never forget that for some reason.  Another thing I won't forget about Mr. Robbins, is that one time that Mr. Robbins wouldn't give me a hall pass for the bathroom, and I... uh... wet my pants.  Totally humiliating consequence that could have been avoided altogether.  If I were able to do it again, I'd cop some attitude and say, "Mr. Robbins!  I pee in your general direction!" Mama would have been so proud... Just look at Rabid.  Quoting some Monty Python.

Anyway, let's get on with this Car/Pedestrian Feud, shall we?

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My dear Rabid Reading family, here's your question:


Why don't drivers see pedestrians and other living obstacles?


TOP SIX ANSWERS ON THE BOARD!  
SURVEY SAYS!

1) Driver is applying makeup.
2) It's dark and early, traffic is null, so driver blows through stop signs and other lawful amenities.
3) Driver owns the whole damn road.
4) Windows are not scraped, except for eyeglass-sized view on front windshield. Can't even see the road, let alone a pedestrian.
5) Driver is a paper person (that is, a person delivering papers.)
6) Driver is oblivious.  Wha?  People in an intersection?  On the shoulder of a road?  Wha?  Why would they do that?  Wha?  Oh.  

You know that the car always wins this feud, right?  And it ain't pretty.  Am I seeing this change all by myself?  Or have you pedestrians out there seen something similar?

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Tuesday, December 07, 2010

Tuesday Tune, vol 64 - Eat Right 'n Exercise

Vera gifted this playlist to me a while ago.  I thought I'd pay if forward.  Enjoy.

Tunafish Every Day - Southern Culture On The Skids
Chocolate Jesus - Tom Waits
Maneater - Nelly Furtado
Candy Shop - 50 Cent and Olivia
Brown Sugar - The Rolling Stones
Green Onions - Booker T. & The MG's
Too Much Pork For Just One Fork - Southern Culture On The Skids
On the Road Again - Canned Heat
Run, Baby, Run - Sheryl Crow
Milk Shake - Kelis
I'm Not Running Anymore - John Mellencamp
Lollipop - Mika
Popcorn (Techno Mix) - Hot Butter
Spill The Wine - War
Take It On The Run - REO Speedwagon
8 Piece Box - Southern Culture On The Skids
Oreo Cookie Blues - Lonnie Mack
Bananas and Blow - Ween
Sugar Sugar - Archies
Run Like Hell - Pink Floyd
She Was Always Chewing Gum - Stringbean
Runnin' With The Pack - Bad Company
Cherry Pie - Warrant
I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles) - Proclaimers
Hot Dog - Led Zeppelin
Walkin' The Dog - Aerosmith
Candi - Ween
Black Coffee - Everlast
Back On The Road Again - REO Speedwagon
Runnin' Shoes - The Fabulous Thunderbirds
Whiskey, Beer and Reefer - Billy Boy Arnold
Jambalaya (On The Bayou) - Hank Williams
Toast -Tori Amos

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Monday, December 06, 2010

Portland by Number

Hey, did you know we dropped everything and drove to Portland?  It's true, we did.  Dropped everything and drove by the seat of our pants.  And we had a ball driving by the seat of our pants.  The focus of the trip was to see the American Fork boys cross country team compete at the Nike Cross Nationals.

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Other stuff happened too.  Here's Portland by Number.

Days after we decided fer sure: 2; decided fer sure on Wednesday 12/1, booked a hotel, and left on 12/3.
Days gone: 3; 2 nights in Portland, 2 full days of travel.
Hours travelled each way: 14; includes stops.
Miles travelled:  1600+.
Transformer movies watched: 2 too many.
E-mail updates to Jessica and Megan: 11ish.
Songs listened to: 253; via mePod on shuffle, some listed to entirely, others not-so-much.
Songs skipped due to language: 8 or 9.
Conference addresses: 4; almost enough to make up for the 8 or 9 with bad words.
Liters of Mountain Dew: 3; drunk by Spouse.
Lil' Debbie cream pies: 9.

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Hats made: 6 via crochet; 4 going, 2 coming back, in American Fork's black, red, and white colors.

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Minutes of Oblivion played: Couple hundred?

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Snow storms: 1; a big and long one.
Semi trucks jack-knifed or tipped over: 9; one fatality.
Miles in the densest fog ever: 100+; from Treemonton to Lehi, I was driving.  Slowly. And with giant eyes.

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Columbia Rivers seen:  The one and only.
Downtown homeless persons: 10-12; Yahoos had their first taste of a real "downtown" when we walked by the Salvation Army to get to a restaurant.
F-Words heard:  Hundreds; by homeless guy yelling at empty space.  Now I can say they didn't hear that one from me for reals.
"I'm scared" expressions heard by Yahoo #1: At least 5; Yahoos don't like "the city."
Oysters eaten: 3; at Dan and Louis Oyster bar.
Jokes told to Yahoos by waiter: 3; mostly juvenile.
Jokes told to waiter by Yahoos: 3; mostly potty-humor knock-knock.
Riddles relayed by waiter: 3; mostly from Lord of the Rings, stumped all but Spouse.

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Voodoo Doughnuts eaten: 12, but we wish it were more; might make a trip just for the Voodoo.  "Good things come in pink boxes" and "The magic is in the hole."

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GPS used on mePhone: Always.
Pro Cyclists seen in Elevator: 4; one being Teal Stetson-Lee.
Cyclocross races watched: 0; overlapped the cross country situation.
Photos taken: Hundreds.

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Photos you'll get to see: To be determined.
Cross Country Races: 3; one community, one national girls, and one national boys.
Boys' race duration: 15:59 to 20:17 for a 5k in the mud and muck, across whoopdeedos and hay bails, through horse and goose dung.

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Runners finished: The fastest 199 in the nation.
Neighbors racing: 1; a total rock star in our eyes. Same with his family.

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American Fork team placing: 8 of 22.
BYU cross country alumni reunion: 2; Spouse and coach of American Fork's cross country team.

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Chair sits: 2; one for Spouse, one for me.  Done while waiting for kids to finish playing at the Children's Museum.

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Fourth grade best-friend reunions: 1; had dinner with Spouse's best friend from Pullman, WA.  Spouse moved at age 9, and has seen best friend only once since, at best friend's wedding 20+ years ago.  They told stories about mixing chemicals in a basement in the hopes of creating an explosion.  Spouse and friend are both engineers working in computer industry, both have a dog with the same name, both are eerily similar.  Spouse wishes he would have stayed in Pullman his whole life!

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Times we yelled at the Yahoos: ZERO.  Believe it or not it's true.
"I love being locked in the car with my family!"s said by Rabidrunner:  50, at least; loved being locked in the car with my family. And in the hotel, not that we were in the hotel for anything but sleep.

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Notice the clock, we were in the car at 4:00am.
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Friday, December 03, 2010

Cyclosniper

A while back, November 20th to be exact, we discovered that the Clammy Cross was coming to our hood.  We had never seen a cyclocross race in person and figured we'd wander up to watch.  They were also having a kiddie race, so we forced the Yahoos to participate.  We didn't really "force" them, actually.  I think the proper word was "bribe."

Anyway, they liked the race, and we stayed an hour or two to watch.  It turned out to be great fun -- the kind of spectator fun I'd do again.  While we were watching the racers do their mad laps through the forest, Yahoo #2 had chosen a proper stick for a rifle, and was using the racers as targets.  It was pretty funny until I had a brief glimpse at what he might be when he grows up...

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Thursday, December 02, 2010

My Name Is Rabid. And I Am A Runner.

I love, love, love to run.  I do, I do.  Not only is running my ticket to fitness, entertainment, and some semblance of a social life, running has turned into a necessity.  I manage chaos with a run, my many psychological demons are caged on a run, I solve problems during a run, and I get that much needed dose o' dopamine after a run.  The Winder once hit the runner on the rabid by saying, "If you don't beat yourself up first with a run, your mind will get the best of you later," and another friend once said, "There isn't a single problem around that can't be fixed by a 5-mile run."

Running, or any exercise for that matter, is great medicine -- a necessary aid for starting a day off right.  However, the urgent necessity of anything brings to light (or dark) a certain word.  That word is addiction.  

Is running -- my running -- an addiction?  That was the topic of this morning's 10-miler, which, in its minuscule 19 degrees and yack-it-up pollution, might prove all by itself that my little habit of pounding-the-pavement is indeed an addiction.

So is it? Let's invistigate that a bit. The on-line dictionary at www.dictionary.com defines addiction as "the state of being enslaved to a habit or practice or to something that is psychologically or physically habit-forming, as narcotics, to such an extent that its cessation causes severe trauma."

We might as well just stop there.  If I were to quit this running stuff, it would undoubtedly cause "severe trauma."  Case closed.  I'm addicted.

Certain literary pizzazz guidelines would say I should stop there, with a gut-wrenching actualization and a heart-felt confession.  Let the reader stew over that, the guideline would say.  Let the reader internalize your brave and ferocious announcement.  Let them feel the "poig" in "nant."   Okay, so that's just a bunch a bull that I made up.  Great isn't it?  What do I know about literary guidelines, anyways?  Nothing, that's what.  But I do know a thing or two about pizzazz -- it's just like pizza only the "a" is moved up a notch, and two more "z"s are added for spice, just like jalapenos or red paper flakes are added to pizza for spice.

Here's what I want to say next, so I'm just going to say it: I love the Spouse.  I love, love, love the Spouse. I do, I do.  Not only is he my ticket to ride (hehehe), best friend, and man of my dreams, but he understands that running is a necessity.  He understands that I manage chaos with a run, he understands that my many psychological demons are caged on a run, he understands that I solve problems during a run, and he also understands that I get that much needed dose o' dopamine after a run.

Spouse gets running.  He doesn't compete with it.  He doesn't complain about it coming first. (For the record he does come first, it's just that the run happens first.  Ooooh, I just felt the need to drop a dirty joke on you all, but decided against it.  But maybe you can guess?)

Spouse doesn't fight the running addiction, he embraces it.  Mostly because he knows the hell-on-earth he'd be living in if I were to give up the running.

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Wednesday, December 01, 2010

Poop On Coupons

I dislike coupons.  I dislike coupons so much that one might say that I hate them.  I dislike/hate coupons for one reason:  Time.  Coupons take time and organization and a general "like" of coupons.

As an aside, I wonder if you can "like" coupons in facebook?  Please hold.... Nope, there isn't a group called "coupon" but there are all sorts of coupon groups with other words added to "like."  I did not (nor will I ever) choose to "like" any group in the facebook with "coupon" in its sobriquet.

I also dislike grocery shopping.  It's the reason I don't really cook any more.  Shopping for food is time consuming, expensive, and laboriously boring.  And as if grocery shopping isn't difficult enough, as if spending thousands of dollars on stuff -- that's only discharged -- isn't wasteful enough, as if the agony of ornery people and screaming kids is not annoying enough, the grocery store and grocery product people have to throw the coupon game into it.

I've always said poop-on-the-coupon and it's because of two scenarios.  The first scenario, I like to call the Save-It-Til-It-Expires scenario, and it goes like this:  I find a coupon worth using.  I save it in the coupon folder for a while, and eventually forget about it.  Then, when I'm out shopping, I remember the coupon, whip it out, and hand it to the cashier.  The cashier returns the coupon to me with that "it's expired ma'am" pucker.  I sheepishly purchase the product anyway because my pride keeps me from saying, "I don't want it if I hafta pay full price." Now I've just purchased something that perhaps I didn't intend to purchase, AND I paid full price for it.

The second scenario is the most frustrating.  I like to call this one the No-Time-For-Your-Damn-Mistakes scenario, and it goes like this:  I need something, and I'm in a hurry.  Just this last time I needed a two-liter bottle for Yahoo #1's bottle rocket scout situation.  We don't buy pop (insert my smug-high-horse-holier-than-thou-we-don't-buy-pop face), so I need to run to the store all quick-like for pop or something in a two-liter bottle.  While looking about, I see a "Free Minute Maid Lemonade with Watermelon Purchase" coupon draped about a lemonade bottle -- it looked just like a large do-not-disturb sign, a total hind-sight-warning if you ask me.  So I think, "Hey! I would love a watermelon today," put the lemonade in my basket and stroll on over to the watermelons.  At check out, the lady is gabbing about whatever it is I'm cooking for dinner -- like they always do, why do they do that? -- and rings me up.  Just as I picked up the bagged goods, I looked at the receipt, in the which I discover that I paid $1.18 (or something like that) for that "free" lemonade.  Hey!" says I.  "That lemonade should have been free."  The lady then responds with "You'll have to go through customer service to get your money back."  I'm in a hurry, and it's not worth that buck eighteen to stand in line for ten minutes.  I walk out with lemonade and a watermelon, both of which I paid full price.

The coupon people hand out coupons because of people like me.

I really don't like coupons and I say poop on the coupons.  But last weekend something magical happened.  I was able to use and abuse this coupon system without it abusing me.  Costco does this coupon mailer thing -- you know, where they send coupons in the mail -- and I noticed that there were about seven or eight items in that mailer that we use on a regular basis.  So I clipped those coupons, headed to Costco and bought only items with coupons.  I saved $25.50!

In coupon dollars, that's a lot of dollars.

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