Monthly Archive for July, 2008
I just spent the past hour crying because I’m a wimp.
I re-watched Randy Pausch’s Last Lecture.
(For those of you who missed out on the wildly viral YouTube of his Last Lecture, his subsequent book, ABC special, and numerous media reports, here is his homepage. He died last week of pancreatic cancer.)
He gave an inspirational speech about his childhood dreams, his life, and his influences, knowing he was about to die in a few months.
This was my list growing up. I may not have achieved them all, but I think I nailed the most important one.
Be a champion ice-skater or ballerina.
Live in a caravan.
Create a secret society with a secret password that my friends had to whisper to get into my tree house.
Meet Hercule Poirot Sherlock Holmes.
Write a book with a typewriter while smoking a thin cigarette, in a black-and-white world where I voiceover my struggle to produce my magnum opus.
Wander the English moors and milk a cow.
Be a mommy.
I am defeated.
I really am.
Is my name being circulated among PC makers and designers looking for a little fun?
We all know I struggled briefly with the laptop a few weeks ago, but today, I met my match in the unopenable, bomb proof Vista packaging.
I don’t know what it says when this is the first result that appears when I type the words Microsoft, Vista, packaging, and difficult to open into a search engine.
Really? You guys knew people would struggle with the packaging so you have an ACTUAL HELP PAGE WITH OPENING INSTRUCTIONS?
Alas, I grunted, yanked, and pried my way into my Vista.
If only I searched for online instructions before opening my Vista!
Am I such a techno-idiot?
Help.
There are people in this world who are serious about things.
Like this man.
Who takes his Medieval Fighting Sundays at Gas Works Park very seriously.
He gets together with like-minded friends who dress up every Sunday and practice medieval fighting techniques in the park.
I know that because he told me that.
He also told me that he made his own suit of armor and someone else made his helmet and weapon.
His name is Benjamin. I forget his character’s name, which he carefully pronounced for me THREE TIMES to make sure I got it right.
Jay and I first noticed his helmet, which was really cool in a Darth Vader Storm Trooper sort of way.
So I was psyched when I “accidentally” got to talk to him.
“Hey, someone watch out for that lady over there!” one of the warriors shouted and Benjamin came over.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to get in the way,” I said.
“That’s why I asked him to protect you in case we don’t see you when we’re fighting,” the gallant knight replied.
Are they for real?
And that’s how I met Benjamin.
Here’s our Little Eatin’ Warrior, Sir Spoonalot.
Why, yes, Dot, yes you can.
Postscript: Do you remember the day that you became the person who answered your own question? And it dawned on you that you could do whatever you wanted? Whenever? Were you 10? 16? 21? 34?
Long, long ago (well, actually four nights ago), two parents set out to give their five-month-old solid food.
No one could tell the parents why the term “solid food” was used even though the item in question was flaky rice cereal mixed with breast milk. Not that you needed that detail. It wasn’t very solid, unless by “solid,” scientists meant, like, “awesome.”
The parents, aware of the much feared gag reflex, laid out a large towel and placed their baby girl on her chair.
Uncannily, she seemed to know something was up and waited expectantly.
As she waited, she got a little impatient.
And proceeded to lick her brand new bib.
She was skeptical of the very first bite, but did not gag. In fact, she licked, slurped, and possibly swallowed.
Tired of her slow parents, she soon took control of the feeding and grabbed the spoon to lick it, even though it was her first time seeing one!
She was such a natural “solid fooder” that by her second rice cereal experience, she was eager and ready for more!
The Solid Food Experiment continued successfully into Day Four and the little baby girl ate every scrap of rice cereal her parents fed her.
“It’s like she has been watching us all this time and knew exactly what to do,” proud Papa said.
Mama replied, “I love the little pooper.”
The End.
When you think of fashionable decades, the 90s never come to mind.
No one ever “revives” the 90s. The 80s, yes; the 70s, yes; even the minis of the 60s are chic cuts of today.
But you don’t care. You are asking, “Dot, why are my eyes tingling right now?”
You can blame Ruby.
A few mornings ago, I got up at 2:30 am to feed the Rubes. I couldn’t go back to sleep so I turned on the TV.
Bad idea.
(Though not as bad as that day in 1992 when I decided to perm my fringe.)
There is nothing on TV at 2:30 am except re-runs of Beverly Hills 90210. Have you ever noticed WHAT they wore on that hugely successful 90s series?
I offer Exhibit A. That’s me in 1991.
I wore a men’s jacket, a tucked in plaid shirt, ill-fitting jeans, and running shoes.
You may excuse yourself to stab your eyeballs now. It’ll hurt less.
However, the 80s were rockin’.
The decade may have been excessive at the time, but look at any vintage store now: People are PAYING to bring back the gaudy goodness of, say, matching colored velour track suits, shown here as Exhibit B.
I wasn’t exercising, folks. I was just wearing this.
But if you really want to know, I think I looked coolest in the 70s.
See Exhibit C (left).
That polyester dress is more fashion forward than anything I own now.
With apologies to Em and Kev for dragging their old images up.
Whoa there, Rubes! Don’t go all gangsta on yo mama!
Wasn’t she channeling Marshall Bruce Mathers III in 8 Mile at last night’s dinner?
That’s better, Ruby. Parlay that look into Badass Cuteness!
For today’s hike, she threw on another hoodie, although this time she looked more like Obi-Wan (or an Ewok, give or take some facial hair).
And yes, you heard me right. A hike.
As we all know, Dot hikes as well as a fish hikes — which is to say — poorly, and in its own imagination.
Which may explain Ruby’s highly suspicious expression.
“What’s that, mom? We’re going where? In a what? Uh-huh. Sure I believe you. We’re going to have a swell time, mom. Awe. Some.”
Well, well, what do we have here? A happy Ruby on her first hike!
For you naysayers, I wish to inform you there is ONE trail in Seattle traversable via stroller, a stroller without them fancy big jogging wheels, no less.
We got a few curious stares along the way, a kindly couple redirected me onto a safer path, and someone offered me huckleberries.
I did not know Mark Twain’s book was edible.
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