An Apple, a Thief, and Two Writers

Hi World:

I had a dream last night.  More of a nightmare, really.  Let's play a game.  You in? 

I will bet that with just a few random clues you can guess what I dreamed about and who the villain was.  Ready?  Okay, here are your clues:

iWallStreet
iWalmart
iToyota
iPresident
iNBC
iNPR
iPBS
iHarvard
iDisney
iStork

iGet it?

and then...

TO THE BABY RUBBER BAND BALL THIEF (BRBB):

Dear Person Who STOLE My Baby Rubber Band Ball:

While this might not seem like a big deal to you, you should know that I worked hard to get that Baby Rubber Band Ball started, and I had great hopes for its future girth.  The BRBB and I were going to be featured in many publications including, but not limited to, the National Enquirer, Ripley's Believe It or Not, and that book about inane world records that nobody over the age of 12 would ever buy, but still, we wanted to be in there. 

Why do you want my BRBB, anyway?  Do you plan to disband it?  Did you need it for some industrial purpose, such as binding your mail or making a ponytail?  I would gladly have offered you an alternative, such as a very nice hair band , which is much healthier for your hair, or a binder clip for your mail, which would have been a more professional looking option.  Had you only asked.

I hope that you do not intend to profit from my BRBB in some manner.  Please tell me that you are not planning to sell it on E-Bay.  Please don't be so heinous a person as to steal another person's BRBB in order to pit it against other rubber band balls in a fight to the death.  It is just a baby and small for its age.

What would you say if I told you that there is a micro-chip implanted into that BRBB.  And that I am tracking you; that even now, I am watching you. Sadly, this is not true.  But what if it were?  You would not be so smug then, would you?

I will find you BRBB thief, and do not even think about crossing state lines.  I've already called in a Rubber Alert. 

Have you seen this Baby Rubber Band Ball?  Please call Chicken. 
Justice will be mine.

and then....

LIZ SMITH:

Do you know of Liz Smith?  The 'Grande Dame of the Dish'?  She is the famous gossip columnist who, for many decades, has provided the dirt on the rich and famous.  Her autobiography was published in 2000.  I'm reading it and enjoying it very much, although I haven't gotten to the really juicy parts yet-who slept with who, or who was nasty (or nice) behind closed doors.  I did learn that Kirk Douglas was originally named Issur Danielovitch.  This made me think that his children are probably very grateful that he became Kirk Douglas.  Can you imagine Catherine Zeta Jones married to Michael Danielovitch?  Then again.  Zeta?  But I digress.  What I meant to say is that I am reading a great book called "Natural Blonde" by Liz Smith, who is well into her 80's by now, and boy she has some great stories to tell. 


I wasn't even sure if she was still alive.  Naturally, I googled it.  I typed in "Is Liz Smith still alive" and learned that someone else had already googled, "Is Liz Smith dead".  I like to think of the glass as half full, unlike some other Debbie Downer Googlers.  Anyway.  Then I found out there was also an actress named Liz Smith, so I had to go back and google, "Is Liz Smith THE GOSSIP COLUMNIST still alive.  Like the capital letters would help.  I'm happy to report that it appears Liz Smith THE GOSSIP COLUMNIST is still alive and still working.  In fact, after seeing this photo of her, I'm pretty sure she is going to outlive me.

(respectfully borrowed from Chron.com)

This is very good news because I may want to write her a fan letter when I am finished with her book.  This time, it will not be after several glasses of wine like when I wrote Stephen King recently.  If his next book is about a famous author from Maine and involves a shady (but disarming) character who sends self-important emails to the main character about being from Maine, and knowing everything about the part of Maine, where "Under the Dome" took place, and congratulating him on getting the details right, and if words are spelled wrong, there are multiple exclamation points, and the salutation starts with Yo, Dude, I will know that Mr. King did indeed receive my letter!!!  I hope he also enjoyed the youtube link I sent of my favorite song.  It would have been nice if he had written back personally, but whatever.  If he wants to make it up to me, he can cast me in his next movie. I just do not want to have to break anyone's ankles with a sledgehammer.  I like to maintain that I am not crazy or violent, since I very much enjoy writing letters to people I do not really know and do not want things like restraining orders harshing my mellow.  Mr. King, Dude, if you are reading this and you like what you read, call me.  We can flesh out my character a bit more.  And I can give you some more tips about rural Maine.   People there do not wear house dresses as often as you think.

I have spent the better part of the evening writing this ridiculous post and googling stupid things.  Could this be what BigB means when infers that I am shallow?

I prefer disarming.

I'll bet nobody calls Liz Smith shallow.  If you would like to join me in writing (sober) emails to Liz Smith, you can read her column here

Chicken out

Chicken follows: Favourite Things Fridays

Hi World,

Mrs P. from Quilting in My Pyjamas has started a new Friday thing called Favourite Things Fridays.  As you may have surmised, we are all called upon to reflect upon our favorite things.  Or rather, Favourite Things, as Mrs. P would say.  She's an Aussie.  She eats vegemite for real.  I know.  High ick factor.  But I still like her:-)

One of my favorite things is speeches.  I love them.  My very favorite speech of all time is the Gettysburg Address.  Let me tell you why:

Way back in the eighth grade, my fifth favorite teacher ever, Mr. Robertson (my first favorite teacher being Mrs. Maxwell from the first grade, followed by Mrs. Yates from the second grade, followed by Mrs. True from the third grade, followed by Mr. Robertson's wife, Mrs. Robertson, from the fifth grade, which means we won't be talking about Chicken's fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Barnes, and we'll skip the whole sixth and seventh grade), challenged us to memorize the Gettysburg Address for extra credit.

I should explain here that Mr. Robertson was way cute.  Like middle-school major crush cute.  And I just had to impress him somehow.  So I memorized it and recited it and got my extra credit.  I didn't get to marry Mr. Robertson, however, because apparently Mrs. Robertson knew more speeches by heart plus all the capitals of all the states, which I had forgotten by the time I got to eighth grade. 

But I never forgot that speech. 

The Gettysburg Address is beautiful.  It is short and so honest.  I do not know if Abraham Lincoln wrote it himself, but I like to think that he did, and that the words he spoke that day, on that battlefield, were from his own heart. 

I recited this speech as a bedtime story to all of my kids before they got old enough to talk and demand "Goodnight Moon".  It is my way of remembering it. I have a lot of kids so I know it really, really well.  Maybe when they are older they will get a warm feeling in their hearts whenever they hear the Gettysburg Address.  They may not know why, of course.   It would be more of a subliminal thing.  A Pavlovian thing.  It is not like I go around reciting the Gettysburg Address before meals.  I don't.  Hardly ever.

Well.  Once, I did recite it at a company retreat.  But that was an emergency.  The electricity went out, there was nothing to do, I felt a need to entertain, and I can't sing or dance.  If you have ever watched "The Office", it was probably something like that.  Picture an "Office Retreat", a lot of semi-drunk people playing pool, and suddenly the lights go out.  What should we do?  It is too quiet!  So I recited the Gettysburg Address.  Someone fell over backwards in their chair.  Probably overwhelmed.  Yes.  I am a tool.  Call me Michael.  Thank you.  Whatever.  Anyway. 

So thank you, Mr. Robertson, for introducing me to the Gettysburg Address.  Here it is.  Please pay attention  If you memorize it by Monday, I'll give you extra credit:

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.


Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.


But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate -- we can not consecrate -- we can not hallow -- this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -- that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

What do you think?  Nice, right? 

And now I realize that I've missed Friday and we are in to Saturday, so I guess it is a Favorite Things Saturday post.

It is September 11, so I think it is still fitting. 

Where were you? 

Here are some more good words:

I know Jesus and I talk to God and I remember this from when I was young...
Faith, Hope, and Love are some good things he gave us
And the greatest is Love...

alan jackson

Wishing you well,

Chicken out

What Oreos and Danny DeVito Have in Common....

After dinner last night, littleb was engaging in one of his favorite activities: Negotiating dessert with his father.


littleb: I want Oreos, I want Oreos.  I want THREE Oreos, 'cause I'm THREE

BigB: You can have an apple

littleb: I don’t like apples. I want three Oreos

BigB: No Oreos. They are not good for you.

littleB: Pleaaaase give me Oreos

BigB: How about a D’animals yogurt drink first?

littleb: Okaaayyyyy.

BigB: (Gets him the D’animals yogurt drink. He is smug because he’s convinced him to eat one more healthy thing. He’s won the nutrition battle for another day)

littleb: (drinks it)

littleb: I’m done with my d’animals. Can I have Oreos now?

BigB: Okay (and gets him Oreos).

This, I thought to myself, is a teachable moment.

I took the container of d’animals out of the fridge, and the packet of Oreos. I showed BigB the nutrition labels on both. Three oreos have the same amount of sugar as 4 oz of d’animals-14 grams. Essentially, I told him, littleb has just conned you out of twice as much sugar as he originally wanted. You should have just given him the Oreos, Dude.

BigB, who doesn’t really pay attention to nutritional labels, is not to blame. He just wants littleb to eat less sugar. He thinks the yogurt drinks, and the cereal bars, and the fiber bars, etc. are all healthy. They claim to be healthy.

He doesn't realize that those tricky food items are just sitting around waiting for a sucker like BigB to come along and see their slick, colorful labels announcing, “Low Fat”, “No Transfat”, “Calcium added” or, my personal favorite, “Made With Whole Wheat”.

That is why I love Oreos.

Oreos don’t try to be anything but what they are-Little, round wafers of yumminess stuffed with a sweet cream center. They are classic, they are sweet, they are a little bit naughty and they will make you smile. Just like Danny DeVito.

You know, if you wanted to dunk Danny DeVito in a glass of milk, I don't think he would object.

Chicken out