As yet unpublished

Birthday parties

My kids are 12 and soon to be 15.  You'd think that we were done with birthday parties.  The same as you'd think that we have been lifted from the shackles of kid-dom and with two intelligent, independent minded and relatively sensible young boys you could now leave the boys at home and go out every now and again.  But, as is with most of parenting ... wrong again.

This weekend, Nick had a birthday party for 10 of his friends.  Sounds okay, right?  They came over at 6pm on Saturday and ate pizza, ate chips, drank soda, ate ice cream, ate anything we had ... and played video games and watched PG-13 movies and generally kept the house at a dull roar (complete with a full hour of banging on the drums) until about 2am.  Somehow, they all popped their little heads out of sleeping bags at around 7:30am and the same dull roar was in full blaze by 8am.  I made bacon, eggs and pancakes for an army ... twice.  And shuffled them all into their clothes and into some level of clean up mode and then ... I took them all paintballing.

Paintball.  What an interesting concept.  Sport?  Many call it a sport ... much the same way that playing golf and shooting ducks and little clay things in the air seem to qualify as a sport.  I guess that pretending like you are killing your friends for a few hours in the morning is now a sport.  If you do it on the streets, though, it's a crime.  But never you mind that ... there I was with 10 kids at a paintball warehouse at 10am on a Sunday morning. 

On the way over to the venue, the kids were all talking about strategies.  And teams. And who was going to be the best and who was going to be the worst and how many times they were going to shoot whatever.  And the strategies were astounding enough to hope that none of them ever consider a career in the military.  I suppose those games they all play may not be as real as we all think ...

We get every kid gunned up, aired up, loaded up and goggled up and they proceed to shoot the shit out of whatever for the next two hours.  They'd swagger in, all high-fiving and full of bravado, recount the last skirmish and challenge the birthday party next door to yet another shunned invitation to skirmish.  And they'd come in with this pale blue oily stuff all over them that looked like they'd been attacked by a very flatulent group of seagulls. 

There were two other moms in the room.  There were probably about 50 other boys and men in the room.  This is clearly a male dominated sport; it felt a little bit like I'd entered a hunting lodge by accident.  Somehow, I'd made the mistake of being the parent-in-charge because I'm pretty sure that just one or two women throw off the full testosterone effect.

The kids had fun.  They were tired tired tired.  And they were full of great stories loudly recounted to each other on the way home.  And in the end, I survived.  Nick turned 12 and the rest of my day could be alotted to ... the antics of my 15 year old.

Don't let anyone fool you into the thinking that once they get older ... you can take a breather, take a break, not worry any more about child-proofing the house.  Because, while you no longer have to worry about the kids literally sticking their fingers into an electrical outlet, now you have to worry about them sticking their fingers into the figurative light-socket of life. 

Frey, Oprah and ... no Sharon!

So, James Frey and Oprah Winfrey definitely stole the cover page for news ... as did the Hamas elections and more news about why it's okay for our personal lives and interactions to be investigated with impunity but ... still no Sharon!

I gather he's in a coma and nothing has changed.  I guess I should stop obsessing but the silence is just deafening.

I think I've read more about Brokback Mountain and our fearless leader's lack of comfort with this movie than about Sharon.  Heck, I know I have!

Back to entering calendar entries for the websites. 

So, if anyone else wants to play "where's Sharon" and has some tidbits to share ... pass them along!

Hamas

Lots and lots and lots on Hamas ... dead silence on Sharon. 

I'm baffled. 

Sharon?

Last I checked, Ariel Sharon was gravely ill -- although, who knows?  There has been no real coverage of this news for ... days.  Days!  Every day I wake up and wonder how the man is?  There's a lot of power in that part of the world -- and he is a pivotal power player.  How's it going?  Is he alive?  Recovering?  In a coma or not? 

There's some nice negative reporting on who should or should not be allowed to vote in Palestine and what the rest of the world may do if the vote doesn't have the desired outcome ... but no news about a key power player in this political hot pot of a world.

If Bush were in a coma ... we'd get not just a daily but an up-to-the-second report.  Heck, we heard more about Terry Shiavo than we are about Ariel. 

If we were talking about ... China we'd be screaming that there was suppression of news and a right to free speech and a propoganda machine at work.

So, anyone know the status of Mr. Sharon?

New websites

So, I've been working with a developer to create new web presences for Just Books and Arcadia.  The requirement being that I had to be able to touch all the content myself so that I could keep things updated and current without having to wait for someone to do it for me.

Long time ago I was in the business of "doing" websites and then some so I know the process.  Not much has changed since the years when I was active ... still just as boring and involved and tedious as before.

In the past, I would have made sure that every living last typo was hunted down and put to bed and all the pieces were moving together and all worked as it should.  This time around, I was so anxious to get the updated content online because my old websites were so out of date and I just didn't feel like doing the parallel work.

Long way to introduce the nearly-ready-for-primetime websites; there are typos; there are things that don't totally work; there are some entries without a lot of data; and there is content that needs to be entered but it's largely here and it's way more updated than what was there last night!

http://www.justbooks.org or http://www.arcadiacoffee.com to take a twirl around. 

For geeks only

Okay, I'm not a Star Wars fan.  I'm not event that much of a geek -- I'm reformed.  I do gentler things like ... read and drink cappuccinos now. True, I'm working on new websites that are Movable Type based and true I'm in the midst of bringing wireless to the Coffee Shop and ... anyway, I'm not a true geek.

But this is way too good to keep to myself ... telnet://towel.blinkenlights.nl

Don't give up right away ... give yourself a good 8 minutes to really soak it in ... and, may the force be with you (someone used up all of their force on this exercise)

I hate midterms ...

I hate midterms.  This is new.  Because, before this year, I didn't have to deal with midterms.

I don't remember having a week of midterms in high school.  Our high school seems to have a big midterm schedule -- a whole week of them.  And each day, you get to take one ... maybe two ... tests.  And then -- voila, you have the rest of the day free.  The bus comes at 11:40 and the town is overrun with teens lunching and hanging and most certainly not making use of that time to *gasp* study.

So, it's been a real struggle to work on the concept of studying for exams.  For one, there is waaaay too much time given to this exercise.  I don't recall having this much time to study for finals in college.  For two, the midterms don't count for a large part of the grade so ... one could beg the question.  And, for three, it's really nice out on the days that the trees aren't blowing over so who wouldn't rather walk around town, eat lunch with your friends and generally act like a teen?

Now, my son wants to go to school for his two midterms tomorrow (I actually doubt he wants to do this ... but he has to so that's what he plans on doing in the morning) and then go to lunch with a friend, come home for a few minutes, go to crew, come home for a shower, go to the Avenue and I assume eat dinner, hang out and watch a movie and then he wants to get up the next day and go to New York City come home for an hour and go to the Teen Center for a concert and ... study on Sunday?

Yikes.  I try not to interfere.  I just try to suggest maybe an hour ... 90 minutes? ... a day may be better than waiting until Sunday because getting up on Sunday means something like noon or 1pm not 10am or some morning time that leaves you more than a few hours in the day to do something.

I may prefer midterms, though, to the essay that compares and contrasts the book of Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry to the movie ...

Tom DeLay Denies All Charges (As Told by Dr. Suess)

From "The WitList" at http://witlist.blogspot.com

That Abramoff!
That Abramoff!
I do not like that Abramoff!

"Would you like to play some golf?"

I do not want to play some golf.
I do not want to, Abramoff.

"We could fly you there for free.
Off to Scotland, by the sea."

I do not want to fly for free.
I don't like Scotland by the sea.
I do not want to play some golf.
I do not want to, Abramoff.

"Would you, could you, take this bribe?
Could you, would you, for the tribe?"

I would not, could not, take this bribe.
I could not, would not, for the tribe.

"If we strong armed corporations
Into giving you donations?
They'd be funnelled to your PAC.
Would you then cut us some slack?"

I would not, could not, cut you slack.
I do not care about my PAC.
I do not want to play some golf.
I do not want to, Abramoff.

"A plane! A plane! A plane! A plane!
Would you, could you, for a plane?"

I could not, would not, for a plane.
Not for a bribe, not for the tribe.
Not for donations from corporations.
Not for my PAC, not for some slack.
Not from any schmoe named Jack.

"Would you help us buy some ships
Perfect for quick gambling trips?
Talk to people in the know
For a little quid pro quo?
Oh come now, don't be a snob.
Let us give your wife a job."

I will not help you buy some ships.
I do not wish for gambling trips.
My wife does not need a job
Even if she is a snob.
We do not like bribes, can't you see?
Why won't you just let me be?

"You do not like bribes, so you say.
Try them, try them, and you may.
Try them and you may, I say."

Jack. If you will let me be
I will try them, then you'll see.

Say.... I do like playing golf!
I like it, I do, Abramoff!
I do like Scotland by the sea.
It's such a thrilling place to be!
And I will take this bribe.
And I will help the tribe.
And I will take donations
From big corporations.
And I will help you buy some ships.
And I will take quick gambling trips.
Say, I'll give anyone the shaft
As long as it involves some graft!

I do so like playing golf!
Thank you! Thank you,
Abramoff!

Another freaky day

I got up at 1:30 am to let the dogs out and ... the wind was just whipping around.  And then I got up at 6 to  get the kids ready for school and it was like 60 degrees outside ... balmy and very windy. 

I ignored the weather.  The last time it was like this it was a very bad weather night and 40% of the power was out in town ... and we didn't have school which is the bane of just about any school-aged parent's existence. 

I kept assuring Thomas that the school buses run during midterms week and ... just watch out for falling trees on your way.  I didn't feel so confident about Nick getting there without a tree coming down so I drove him to school.  Is this for real?  People worried about trees falling on them before 7 in the morning? 

So, I get the kids to school and my car is kind of wind surfed to work.  So, I sit down and have my coffee and muffin and try to ignore the wind whipping about ... but it's hard because the roof in Arcadia seems to have a few leaks and the doors keep being blown open and slammed shut.  And when our web developer arrived to review his recent work he told me that a tree had fallen across my street and into my front yard.  Heck, just 30 minutes before that I was in that yard!

So, it was another day of sirens, trees down all over the place, wind whipping around and the temperature going from 60 to 30. 

And school?  Totally whacked out.  At least 3 schools didn't have power but kept kids at school ... and the high school so screwed up release (mid terms mean you can leave once you take your test) that the kids were just going nutzo and my cell phone nearly melted with the idignity of the concept of being kept in school.

I hope tomorrow is clear and sunny and that a massive tidal wave doesn't take us out in the middle of the night ... or another tree.

Dysfunctional Memoirs

We've been hearing a lot about A Million Little Pieces lately which has caused a lot of lively debate and discussion with customers in both the bookstore and the coffee shop.  Which is great!  How great to have the general populace debating a book! 

James Frey's A Million Little Pieces (Anchor; $14.95) is a harrowing tale of Frey's journey from a hopeless addict to a sober person.  There is a lot in the book that gives the reader something real to reflect on and really think about.  The story is compelling; chilling; scary; worrisome; arresting and then some.  While there is a lot swirling around about the accuracy of some of the details -- the story is still a true one.  It is -- first and foremost -- James Frey's reality.  And the controversy around it is a good example of how things look through different colored lenses and how one person's reality may be another person's fairy tale.  You just never know when you tell your story if your memory is a little or a lot distorted.  Keep in mind that eye-witnesses are the least reliable part of a court case.

That said, there are other books out today that tell equally dysfunctional stories without quite the same level of distortion or controversy.  J R Moehringer's The Tender Bar is the story of J. R.'s life growing up in Manhasset, Long Island and being essentially raised by the regulars at Publicans, the legendary and local, watering hole.  J. R. never knew his DJ father but spends a lifetime waiting to hear his fleeting broadcasts; his mother is loving and caring but hopeless and dreamy and his uncles and grandparents are a family ... but just.  That J. R. makes it through grade school, let alone high school and then Yale and Harvard is nothing short of a miracle.  J. R. is a lyrical writer; a fantastic storyteller and his life -- though sad, pathetic and dysfunctional -- is an inspiration.  How much of this is fabricated?  Is seen through the gauze of collective and recalled memory?  Hard to say -- but it rings more than true-enough and should satisfy the soul.

A very favorite dysfunctional family memoir of mine at the moment is Jeannette Wall's The Glass Castle.  I'd like to think that some of what she writes is mis-remembered or inaccurately recalled or ... tainted by the viewpoint of a child ... but sadly I think her memoir is super-strengh, 100%, over-the-top bonafide.  And that is what makes her memoir so searing and endearing and heartbreaking to read.  The Walls are an intelligent but quirky family; or that's how the story starts.  But the bigger they grow, the older they get the more terrifying and surreal their world becomes.  After moving all around the United States the Walls' land in the very depths of the hauntingly beautiful but terribly poor and abused hollers of West Virginia and this is where Jeannette's world starts to unravel and collapse.  Through sheer determination, the Walls' kids survival instincts kick into high gear and pull them out of their almost acid trip like existence and deliver them into a much more normal and mainstream life.  The very best part of The Glass Castle is the sheer honesty and love and respect shown by Jeannette for her parents and her siblings.